Читать книгу A Rare Find: Ethel Ayres Bullymore - Donna Mann - Страница 7

3. Looking Ahead

“Mum, I have to talk to you.” Ethel walked into the kitchen, interrupting Elizabeth Kemp’s humming as she sat at the table peeling potatoes. Elsie ran to play with Evie, her little auntie.

“What is it? You’re all right to travel, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but…it’s not me, Mum. It’s Elsie. I’ve got bad news from the doctor.” Ethel turned her head and began to sob. “She’s developed a heart problem…the doctor suspects from the scarlet fever. She can’t come to Canada with me.”

“There, there, dear.” Mum laid her potato and knife on the oilcloth-covered surface and walked over to Ethel. Wrapping her arms around Ethel, she said, “How can that be possible? Are you sure you heard him right?”

“That’s what he said,” Ethel said, leaning into her mum. “And he won’t change his mind. He won’t even consider me waiting for another year until Elsie’s stronger. He says I should go now and help Tom prepare a home for all of us.”

The kitchen with its familiar shiny cupboard tops and organized dishes and pans reminded Ethel of the many good meals and conversations and the love shared in this room. Today, it seemed like a haven away from the cruel choices of life.

Mum stepped back and placed wrinkled hands on her hips. “Then, my dear, that’s exactly what you must do. Elsie will stay with us. Your father and I will take good care of her. It won’t be forever.”

Ethel looked at her mother’s favourite pose. She’d seen this other times whenever Mum was serious about doing something difficult.

“It seems like it.” Ethel wiped her nose with her handkerchief. “Anyway, it’s just too much to ask of you, with your young ones and all. Why, you’d have both Evie and Elsie at almost the same age. That’d be enough to drive you down the road.” Ethel shook her head.

“The other children can help,” Mum said. “We can handle it.”

“I can’t bear to think of it.” Ethel slumped down in a chair beside the kitchen table. “I don’t know what I’d do without Elsie. And I’m so afraid. What if—”

“Now, now, enough of that,” Mum said. “You’ve plenty to think about without the what ifs in life.”

“You know how it hurts.” Ethel wiped a tear away. “I remember like it was yesterday when our Will died with a weak heart—and him so young.”

“I remember too, lass…our firstborn,” Mum said. “But this is different. You’ll see Elsie again.” Her voice softened. “I know it won’t be easy for you, but think how complicated it would be if you had to cope with Elsie’s health during the crossing, and then all the settling once you arrive, never mind getting her away to school in the next year or so.” She placed a loaf of bread on the table. “And you don’t know how Tom’s going to be when you get there.”

“Tom’s all right, Mum,” Ethel countered. “I can tell by his letters. We’d manage.” Ethel folded her handkerchief. “I just can’t bear to go on without her. Maybe there’ll be more organized care in Canada and—”

“Ethel, rest assured we’ll work out things for Elsie right here at home. Your pa and I, we’ll get along fine.” Mum turned and faced Ethel. “Now Canada’s another story; it’s a colony. Don’t count on better ways. I know you’re very taken with all the Canadian propaganda, but you have to realize the country isn’t established like England.” She leaned over and held Ethel’s hand. “But we’ll talk about that later. Your father is going to be home for supper, and the table won’t be laid if I don’t get to it.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “You go wash up.”

After Mum cleared the supper dishes, Pa and the younger children played on the floor in front of the cook-stove. “Come on, lass,” she said, “sit down and have your tea. I think we’d better talk about Canada, a wee bit.” She put the teapot on the table. “There are lots of things you will find the same over there. For instance, a church will be as important to you in Canada as it has been here. Friends will be a grand support for you. Family will be of the utmost importance. Learning about life in general will hold as many surprises as it did for you here. And that’s only a few similarities. But, there’s another side that you will discover.” Mum picked up the salt and pepper shakers and placed them on the cupboard shelf. “I’ve read about Canada being the Wild West, a frontier land. Guns, bears, Indians, buffaloes and tar-paper, even sod houses. It sounds like another world.”

“I know, I’ve read that too,” Ethel said. “But I don’t think that’s Edmonton.”

“Edmonton’s a young city, still developing in many ways. You’re not going to find the shops and fashions like you see in London. The variety of food and available supplies for your family may be quite different, as well as medical resources and information. You have to realize you’ll be stepping into a completely new situation.”

“In spite of all that, Tom and I could cope with Elsie’s condition,” Ethel argued.

“I don’t doubt that for a minute, luv, but you have to get used to the fact that Edmonton won’t be like here. You’ll see lots of poverty, sickness and violence over there.”

“I’ve seen all that here, Mum. Goodness, I’ve worked in both the hospital and street clinic. I’ve walked around. I’ve been in London. I’ve seen the worst side of life.”

“But there’s a difference. We have more support here to match the difficulties we encounter.”

“Not always, Mum.” Ethel remembered patients who had left the clinic clutching fevered children, heading for cold flats. “Anyway, from everything I’ve read, Canada is very inviting. You make it sound depressing.”

“Reality is what I’m suggesting. And there’s something else you should think about besides facilities and professions. Attitudes can be very different. I’ve read where women are encouraged to stay at home and look after their husband and family. We do that too, but it’s more acceptable here for our class of women to work outside the home.”

“What are you saying, Mum? That I won’t be able to nurse?”

Mum cleared her throat. “I’m not saying that, dear. But I do know that attitudes will be different. A woman might be expected to encourage her man and work alongside him; certainly in the country I would think that’d be the case. You have to remember, here in England we can’t even vote or own property. And if that isn’t enough, the government can’t quite decide if we’ve got a mind. I hear they’re going to vote if we’re even persons, and that probably won’t happen for decades.”

“How could that be? Women are women wherever they are. A country can’t dictate a person’s worth or declare how a woman should live her life. Surely, women’s needs are the same, regardless of where they live.” Uncertainty crept through Ethel like a cold chill. She wished she’d thought about these things before, yet still hoping she could share her opinions openly in Canada. Contradictory understandings about issues affecting the home and community had never limited her voice, and she didn’t want it to begin now.

“I have my nursing certificate, and I’ve worked alongside the best.” Ethel centred a wooden bowl on the table, running her fingers over her father’s carefully hand-hewn edges. “I remember hearing about England’s Midwives Act of 1902, long before I thought it possible for me to train as a practical nurse. Surely there’ll be something in Canada by now.”

“I’m only telling you what I read about the West, right in their posters and advertisements.” Mum tapped a flyer lying on the table. “Nursing has definitely taken great strides, but you have to remember it’s only been the last few years that nurses could care for men, look after them, and that’s thanks to Miss Nightingale.”

“I know, Mum, but it’s different now. This is the 1900s.” Ethel sighed. Her immediate concerns were for Elsie and Tom, but she also wanted to nurse in the future. All through the planning with Tom, the conversations at the clinic and with the doctor, Ethel had never thought once that attitudes towards women might be different in Canada. In London, women had a voice, although not a terribly strong one. Still, they did speak out.

Several days later, Ethel set out to talk to the doctor again. She boarded the train to London, flopped onto a seat and rested her head against the back. The noise of the great iron beast filled her senses, and the clanging and banging echoed her confused feelings. Engine fumes saturated the air, leaving a putrid taste in her mouth, reminding her that some things in life aren’t pleasant. She sighed and wondered about the advertisements for Canadian domestic servants. She’d worked in a big house caring for three children after grade school. No! She was a practical nurse. It was her calling.

Doctor Austin welcomed Ethel on her arrival to his office and invited her to sit. He promptly asked if she were there to talk further about Elsie.

“I am beginning to come to terms with your instruction, Doctor, although I think it will be the most difficult experience I will ever have in my entire life.”

“I do not doubt that, Miss Kemp. I do hope it will not be for long.”

Doctor Austin responded to Ethel’s questions about Canadian employment and attitude by reminding her of Alberta’s recently formed Canadian National Association of Trained Nurses, suggesting she find out about it and register with them.

She would have liked to obtain her British midwifery registration before leaving England, but that opportunity wouldn’t happen for another year.

“Do you think the medical association will license midwives in Canada too?” Ethel asked.

The doctor responded, “Licensing is needed, as it regulates the practice and makes the midwives more accountable to a governing body beyond themselves.” Straightening his tie, he appeared certain. “The other side of that argument is that it limits the freedom midwives have to help other women.”

Ethel knew there were many women that shouldn’t be attending births. Midwifery was such an old art—handed down from one generation to another.

“In the beginning,” the doctor continued, “it was the most natural and expected service: women helping women. Over time, the church tried to take charge, and then the civil authorities.”

“Midwives encourage women to labour more openly, don’t you think? As their bodies demand, you know. And many doctors, like yourself, have learned the value in that,” Ethel said without waiting for the doctor to respond. Shifting her position and raising her eyebrows, she continued rather boldly, “In the future, midwifery will be a natural part of nursing—without additional training. They should go hand in hand. It’s just instinct. Even in the time of Moses, God commended the midwives. I think this age or place is no different—just the laws and some countries. One day, nurses will be midwives with pride, and again, God—and country—will commend them. It’s just a matter of time. I hope I’m around to see it.”

Doctor Austin laughed, appearing to enjoy her forthrightness and wit. “I hope so too. You just keep that grit and vigour. It’ll fit in fine over there. They need your kind in the cities and on the prairies. You’ll see.” He lifted his hand to shake hers. “I believe in you, Miss Kemp. You’ll probably change some attitudes. You know, women have been doing that a lot lately, both here and in Canada. When you get over there, listen hard. Keep in line with what’s expected of you, but look for opportunities to speak your mind. You’ll be fine.”

Later in the afternoon, the train moved out of the station, hissing and chugging, giving Ethel an exceptionally rough ride home. She settled into the corner of the seat, hoping to brace her body for the jolting. Women came to her mind who had fostered her independent spirit, ones who had answered needs in communities by founding private nursing homes and opening clinics. She wanted that kind of opportunity too. She wanted to help other women labour, raise their children, make decisions and provide good homes. Someday she’d have her own clinic in Canada. When she arrived, she’d see about her nursing status as soon as possible, find other work in the meantime and take one day at a time.

For now, Ethel vowed to spend extra time with Elsie and explain that the doctor wanted her to stay with her grandparents until she was completely healed. This would be a special time. Today she would tell Elsie that her mummy must go to Canada to find her pa, and together they would prepare a home where she would come as soon as possible. Ethel would promise her lots of letters and clippings of pictures from the local newspaper. In all of this, Ethel prayed that God would bridge the space between them and keep them bonded.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she felt more peaceful—at least about some things. Pleasant scenes of gardens and cottages sped quickly by, and soon the gliding of the train along the tracks eased her into a restful sleep.

Ethel and Mum planned the farewell meal; they organized games and a few gifts for the family gathering. After checking to be sure the loo, attached to the back of the house, had fresh tissue paper, Ethel watched Mum walk past her geraniums and climbing rosebushes, tilting her head, obviously enjoying their familiar fragrance. Pa had tidied the garden and set out a few chairs in case anyone wanted to sit there. Everything was prepared.

The small house on Goat Lane filled to overflowing onto the front step. The sun warmed the air after a fresh rain, giving a comfortable temperature for the children to run in and out. Mum moved to and from the scullery, bringing food to the main living room to place on the big table. All nine of Ethel’s siblings, from five years of age to mid twenties, bantered back and forth, making entertaining conversation, finishing each other’s statements and sometimes overlapping their voices—chaos, but so like home at the best of times.

A couple of Ethel’s sisters had asked to speak on behalf of the rest of the family, promising lots of laughter and tears to fill the afternoon. Ethel rehearsed the words she’d say, but she couldn’t even practice them without crying. Squaring her shoulders, acknowledging that the task ahead would be difficult, she took a deep breath.

“You’ll be sure to write to us, Etty,” Ethel’s sister Florence insisted. “I’m soon going into service, but I’ll get home to read your letters.”

“I will,” Ethel said. “I’ll write to all of you, and you can pass the letters around. And somebody please write and tell me all about Mabel’s wedding. She’ll be too busy being married to write…” The family’s laughter rose above the rest of the words.

Mabel stood and bowed gracefully. “And that big day will happen on October 25th at the register office. I wish you were going to be here, Ethel, but I’ll excuse you, only because I’ll have my namesake here to carry the rings.” Everybody looked over at Elsie, who smiled back. “Remember,” Mabel continued, “my full name is Mabel Elsie Kemp. But folks, we’re here because of Ethel, so let’s ask her for a word.”

All eyes turned towards Ethel. She took a deep breath and looked toward Mum and Pa and then across her siblings’ faces one at a time as if savouring each expression. Moving closer to Elsie, she said, “The time has come for me to leave for Canada, and Elsie will stay here with Mum and the rest of you.” She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “I can hardly bear it.”

“I cannot imagine how heartbroken you are, having to go alone,” Mabel said, reaching out to take Ethel’s hand.

“Maybe when she can travel, one of us’ll get to take her over,” Ethel’s 17-year-old brother, Ernie, added.

“We’ll hold you to that, son,” Pa said. “Even though it makes me sad at the thought, I know there will be great opportunity for you in Canada.” He moved over and made room for the little girls to stand in front of him. “In the meantime, Horace’ll take good care of you, Etty. He’ll put you on the ship and give you a fine send-off.”

Ethel smiled over at Horace, who looked back with a comical grin, and said, “And for you, dear brother, I’ll be eternally grateful. I didn’t relish walking those Liverpool docks on my own.” She looked back at Pa and then to Ernie adding, “Nothing will please me more than getting Elsie over and seeing whoever brings her.” Ethel put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “And, you’ve got a bed however long you want to stay.” She held her breath to keep from sobbing. Silence filled the room.

“We love you, big sister,” Edith said. “We’re going to miss you,”

“Come on now, everybody. I know you’ve all shed a river of tears, and there’s time for more later,” Mum said, “but right now, the food’s hot and waiting. Let’s make this a feast to remember.” Turning, she continued, “Pa, please ask God to bless the food, Ethel, her journey…and to sanction all these tears.”

Silence fell around them as if hemming them in. The children moved in beside their parents, and some of them held hands. Ethel felt the preciousness of the moment as she gripped her mother’s arm with one hand and laid the other on top of Elsie’s soft curls. Pa cleared his voice and began to speak softly. Ethel could hear the love he had for his family woven through each word. The hum of voices in the final amen brought closure to more than the prayer.

The next morning Ethel looked across the breakfast table at Elsie turning her spoon around and around in her porridge. How discerning this child was—perhaps not capable of putting her feelings into words but showing them in her actions. Life over the last month had left Ethel feeling as if she too were turning in circles from one emotion to another.

She fixed her eyes on Elsie’s face and thought how people always remarked on their likeness. She wasn’t surprised at their comments, because those same people had said for years that Ethel was a mirror image of her mother. She knew it to be true as she looked over at Mum and smiled. Those beautiful facial features framed by her lovely soft dark hair resembled Ethel’s own countenance in many ways. Three generations, and so much alike.

There was a lot to say in these last few minutes before Ethel would leave for the train station, yet the silence allowed these deep thoughts to penetrate her mind. Looking at Elsie and then back to her mother, Ethel knew she’d see Elsie again, but the awful truth surfaced that leaving Mum was different. Saying goodbye to Pa earlier when he went to work had almost crushed Ethel, and now the same turmoil between what she wanted and what she must do divided her loyalties again. She doubted if she’d ever get back to England in her parents’ lifetime, and she knew they wouldn’t make the trip to Canada.

Breaking the silence, Ethel looked for words to move her past this moment of despair. “I’ll write letters to you both while I’m still on the boat and post them as soon as I land.”

“That will be lovely, dear,” Mum said. “The whole family will gather to read them.” Tears ran down her reddened cheeks.

“And you, luv.” Ethel reached over to Elsie, lifted her from the chair and drew her close. “Come and sit on your mummy’s knee.” She turned her face towards her own. “What shall I send you when I get to Canada?”

“Can you send me kisses?” Elsie asked.

“Do you mean those chocolate candy kisses?” Ethel laughed. “For your sweet tooth?”

“Yes, ’n some of these,” Elsie said quietly and placed her fingers on Ethel’s lips.

Ethel pushed her face into Elsie’s hair, more to hide her own tears than to whisper. “I’ll find a way to send you something special, sweetheart, with Mummy’s kisses all over it.”

She straightened and glanced at the kitchen clock ticking away precious minutes and then looked at Mum. Ethel’s bottom lip trembled. She wanted to bawl—just rest her head on the table as if she were alone and cry until there were no tears left.

Just then, Horace came into the living room, twirling his peak cap between his fingers. “We’ve got a bit of a trip ahead of us, Etty. Are you ready to go?”

“I think I am,” Ethel replied. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Ethel,” Mum said, “you know I support you in this decision, and I’ll follow you all the way to the dock in my heart, through my thoughts and in my prayers. When I close my eyes over the long hours to come, I’ll see you with your shoulders straight and holding your head high.” She paused to brush a tear from her cheek and said softly, “We’ll all be with you in spirit, lass. Know that you are loved, and no miles, no distance, absolutely nothing can change that.”

“Oh Mum.” Ethel sighed. “What will I do without you and your words of wisdom? Is there anything that will make this easier?”

“Nothing is going to help, my dear, unless you decide to bring your luggage back from the train station, unpack your clothes and stay put here in Enfield.” Mum attempted a weak smile while wiping her eyes. “And that’s not going to happen. So we just have to get through this.”

Mum stood and linked her fingers around Horace’s elbow. “In the meantime, Horace will look after you until you board the ship.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “That’ll settle my mind, some.”

Elsie squirmed in Ethel’s arms, and Ethel tightened her grip as she listened to Mum.

“Once you get on the boat, you’ll start thinking of the immediate and of Tom, you’ll see. I’ve heard others say the same thing. It’s just getting you to the dock and onto that ship.” She bent over and placed her hand on Ethel’s face. “And keep the faith, lass. Remember the Scripture you were raised with.”

“I will, Mum. I’ll always remember that.”

Reluctantly, Ethel let Elsie down. She stood and leaned over to embrace Mum, resting her head on Mum’s shoulder as she did when a child. She knew to which Scripture Mum alluded. There’d be no problem loving her neighbour as herself, but she didn’t know if she could love God today with all her heart and soul and might. She’d prayed so much about Elsie’s health, and it had only worsened. Indeed, she would have to talk to God more about that.

Ethel turned to Elsie, knelt and lowered her face into her little girl’s neck. She recalled the long and difficult struggle of giving birth and then holding Elsie’s sweet stirring body, bundled up in soft flannelette.

She drank in the sight and familiar scent of her little girl and looked into her pleading eyes. Cupping Elsie’s face in her hand, she kissed her forehead with a long, lingering touch. “Goodbye, my dearest, for now.”

Nurse Rankin’s words about good things coming from labour pains flashed through her mind. What could possibly come out of this pain except more of the same?

With that, Ethel kissed Elsie again and turned her toward Mum. She picked up her purse and said, “Let’s go, Horace. You and me, we’ll make good use of our extra time together. You can tell Mum all about it when you return.” She grabbed her satchel by the handles, pushed the kitchen door with her free hand and walked out into the sunshine. Glancing back for one more look, Ethel saw Mum in the doorway holding Elsie, who was eagerly waving a white handkerchief. “I’m wavin’ it like they do on boats, Mummy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ethel said as she swallowed her tears. “I’ll think of this when I board the ship.”