Page 33 of The Irish Gypsy
The first hour of the working day was spentin a dull, silent stupor, but then everyone would thaw and the funbegan. The girls were a laughing, joking, happy group. They playedjokes on each other and had a bit of fun. While the machines weregoing, it was too noisy for a lot of talk, but they had worked outa system of winks, nods and gestures that conveyed a welter ofmeanings. The mill workers were vulgar and convulsed each otherwith rude stories. Kitty soon learned that birth, death and sexwere spoken of openly and treated as normal, everyday occurrences,which, after all, they were. She learned to laugh at the coarsejokes and sometimes told them herself. They were protective of oneanother, and the first day she was warned never to go behind thetent frames with the overseer, no matter how he tried to maneuverher back there.
As Kitty stood by the loom watching for thefirst empty shuttle, the overseer came up to her with a note in hishand. "Kitty Blakely, you're needed at home," he announced withdistaste and dropped the paper as if it were contaminated. Kittyrealized he knew she had to go home because another baby was beingborn, and everybody knew the Irish produced too many babies.
She found Ada huddled over on a chair,clutching her black shawl about her with one hand and the otherdoubled into a fist and pressed into her side.
"Why isn't there any fire?" Kitty asked.
"There's no wood."
Kitty went into the back kitchen and broughtback the ax. She picked up a chair, but put it down again becausethey had only two. Then she remembered the back panel of thedresser was hanging loose, so she used it to light the fire. Thenshe ran for the midwife. She didn't have to go far, as midwiveswere almost as plentiful as pubs in that neighborhood.
Mother Byrum was a little, round woman. Shealways had her bag ready by the door and came along with Kittywithout delay.
"Why isn't there a bed set up down here?"Mother Byrum demanded.
Kitty said, "They were all born on thekitchen door, Ada says."
"Oh, yes, I remember now. Well, give me ahand, girl. Don't stand there like a dressmaker's dummy."
They unhinged the door and set it up with afairly clean sheet over it.
"Now I want hot water, girl. Put the kettleon the hob. The first thing I want is a cup of tea!" She hung upher shawl and pulled a chair up to the fire. "Who's got your otherkids?"
"Big Florrie across the street is keepingthem until tomorrow," Ada answered weakly from the makeshiftbed.
"Not Mrs. Piece-out-of-her-nose?" askedMother Byrum, scandalized.
"Why does she have a piece out of her nose?"Kitty asked.
The midwife shot a significant look at thewoman in labor. "The bad disorder! Mind you, it's not her fault.Her husband's the doorman at the Music Hall and he knocks aboutwith the chorus girls."
Ada could hold back no longer, but MotherByrum finished her tea before she proceeded.
"I won't need any help with the delivery, sostay clear, but you'll have to clean up afterward. That's not myjob."
Kitty nodded her understanding and sat gazinginto the fire. She blocked out the screams of hard labor byconcentrating on the crickets chirping behind the fireplace. Shecould imagine it was a pet bird and the fireguard was its cage. Avoice cut into her reflections. "I think there's more thanone--yes, it's twins!"
"Oh, my God," protested a weak voice.
In a remarkably short time the midwife wassaying, "There now, it's all over. There's one of each. Which doyou want to keep?"
"The lad, every time," answered Ada.
"What abouther?” whispered MotherByrum, gesturing toward Kitty.
"She won't say nothing," came the lowanswer.
Kitty wondered wildly if they meant what shethought they meant. There was a sharp slap and a frail cry, and themidwife placed the boy child with its mother. "Here, wash this."She handed Kitty the dead baby, and she took the pitiful bundleinto the kitchen. She saw it and felt it, but her mind was numbed,and she automatically carried out the task of cleansing it. Shedressed it in a nightie she had made the week before, and notreally knowing what to do with the lifeless little creature, laidit on the kitchen shelf. She went back into the other room and themidwife pushed an enamel bowl into her hands. "Empty this and washthese blood-soaked things. I'm off now. By the way, remind himselfI haven't been paid for the last one yet!"
To Kitty's relief the older children came infrom school and she kept busy feeding them, and then to make surethey wouldn't wander into the kitchen, she shooed them out to playin the front street. She made Ada a cup of tea and then timidlycrept into the kitchen to see if there really was a baby on theshelf. Its face looked waxen and she decided it looked like a doll."It's only a wax doll," she whispered.
After she washed the blood-stained linen andcleaned up, the kids came in from their play. "You're staying atBig Florrie's tonight," Kitty told them, so they trooped across thestreet.
"Kitty, will you go over and give Big Florriesome help? Jack will move me upstairs when he comes in fromwork."
Kitty not only put Ada's kids to bed, butalso looked after Big Florrie's brood. When it began to go dark,Kitty said, "I'd better go back now. It's getting late and Jackwill be home."
She walked slowly back across the street.Jack Blakely met her at the door and handed her a parcel done upwith newspaper and string.
