Chapter One
A light flickered in the upper window of a blackened brick row house on Thurlow Street. Minutes later, the front door opened and a man emerged, recoiling as a gust of wind cut through his threadbare coat and pelted his face with sleet. With one hand holding the brim of his bowler, the other clutching the iron railing that separated his house from the one next door, he made his way down the slippery path and out the gate. The gas-lit streets of Salford were deserted. Earlier in the evening an icy gale, vicious even for February, had come howling through the town, ripping slates from roofs, slicking cobblestones, sending people scurrying home to their firesides. He paused under a street lamp to take off his spectacles, already coated with sleet. His bad eye felt like a ball of ice in its socket. And he'd rushed out without his gloves.
"Sod it!" he muttered, "Sod every bloody thing." Even the stray cats that prowled the backyard walls and chimney pots had more sense than to venture out in this lot. Pulling up his collar, he plodded, head down against the buffeting wind until he reached the midwifes house, where he found the brass doorknocker locked stiff from the cold. He ham-
hammered the door with his fist.
"Hold your horses!" The door opened a crack. The midwife raised a candle, squinting up at him. "Mr. Hancock? Good God, man, you look perished. Come in."
"Sorry to drag you out of bed at this hour, Nurse." He stamped his boots and removed his hat to shake off the sleet. The nurse pulled her scruffy flannel dressing gown closed, and pressed against the wall of the lobby to let him pass.
"Is it Sally? Shes not due for another six weeks. "
"Aye. The pains are coming fast; we thought it best to get you right away. "
"You're sure she's in labor?"
"Shed not send me out in weather like this for nothing. "
The midwife set the candle down on the hall table while she fastened the cord of her dressing gown.
"You better get back to her, then. Ill come on my bike, soon as I'm dressed. "
"You'll never make it on your bike, love. The roads are slick as butter, and the winds enough to bowl you over. Ill walk you back.
Nurse Walmsley took the candle and lit the gas-mantles on the wall, lighting up a large, oval-framed photograph of a bride. "Me, thirty years ago," she said.
William nodded. "Very nice. "
"You'll have to give me a minute." She headed for the stairs.
William studied the photograph. Poor old girl was plain as a suet pudding even then, in spite of the bridal getup. Sally had turned up at the registry office lovely enough to take your breath away, her black curls pushed under her cap and just a bunch of violets pinned to her WAAC uniform. She was lovely still, after eight years and three children. There'd be four when he got back home at the rate it was taking that midwife to get dressed.
He paced the lobby blowing on his hands. A grandfather clock in a nook by the stairs read quarter to two. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the hall stand mirror: he looked a bloody sight soaking wet, unshaven, blue in the face. He rummaged in his waistcoat pocket for a comb, but before he could make himself presentable, Nurse Walmsley reappeared. She'd donned a navy blue uniform, and pinned back her grey hair in a neat bun. She thrust a bundle of papers into his hands.
"Shove these under your coat, Mr. Hancock, love, while I fetch my bag o tricks."
"Newspapers?"
"The mattress-- you don't want it ruined, do you?"
She darted through a doorway and came back with a black bag and a bottle of red liquid. "Rose-hip syrup best thing for the mother's blood. Have you a drop of gin or whiskey in the house? "
"No. Sally doesnt drink. She signed the pledge when she was just a lass. "
"Well have to manage without it then." Nurse Walmsley lifted a dark wool cape from the hall stand and fitted it around her shoulders. "Is anyone with her?"
"Just the youngsters. They've been down with scarlet fever, as you know. They're better now, except the little un. Sally wants you to take a look at her, if you will. "
"I delivered twins over at the Rourkess a couple of weeks ago. The poor devils lost three of theirs to scarlet fever just before Christmas." She stepped closer to the mirror and adjusted the dark veil of her nurse cap.
"Terrible business," William said. "I don't believe I know them." Why was this woman wasting time fiddling with her damned headdress?
"Irish lot too many mouths to feed." She pulled a pair of knitted gloves from the hall stand drawer and wriggled her fingers into them. "A terrible year, 1925-- pneumonia, diphtheria, scarlet fever, galloping consumption. Lets hope this year will be better."
William picked up his hat. "I think wed best get a move on. "
The nurse handed William her bag, turned the gas flame low and cocked a woolly grey thumb towards the front door.
"Lead on, MacDuff."
chapter1
