The Bristle Merchant's Daughter

January 20^th 1902.  Last year Queen Victoria died.. Today my mother will be born in an old saggy double bed in a not very nice terrace house in a not quite slum area of the City of L.  Rachel has felt some sporadic pains for several days now but suddenly they come on more sharply and last for longer. Jacob is out at work but her friend Elsie James, next door, will go for the midwife who lives not far away. When the pain gives her a respite, she puts on her coat and hat and hurries next door to knock up Mrs James. Elsie puts on her coat and says she will run for the midwife. So Rachel who can feel another pain coming on goes home to wait. Jacob will be home for his tea soon so she thinks about doing some cooking but another pain, stronger before makes her sigh and sit down instead.

    Fanny Briggs, the midwife, has seen it all before and is reassuring. These new people are a bit strange and not everyone likes them with their funny accents that you can hardly understand. But the women are made just the same as we are even if they do get a bit hysterical in labour. And they are very grateful for her services. She finds the stove and puts on some water to boil; assembles as many towels and cloths as she can; makes Rachel undress for bed and examines her. The head is down now, she notes with satisfaction. Should be fine if she doesn’t bleed or get a fever. Rachel smiles nervously at her helper who offers her a cup of tea. I ought to get my husband his tea, she says. Don’t worry about him, retorts Briggs. He’ll be so pleased with the baby he’ll go and have a few drinks with his mates instead. Except being one of the Newcomers he probably won’t. They didn’t go to the pubs much which was in their favour. Except it meant they didn’t get to know any one but each other. Keep to themselves. Have their own special churches and so on. Well, live and let live. Another contraction. Rachel submits to an examination from Mrs Briggs’s professional hands. Dilating nicely. Soon be time to push, she tells her patient. Rachel nods and smiles. Inside she is afraid but also filled with a dream-like wonder.

   An hour later, labour is progressing. Then there are footsteps and the front door creaks open. A male voice says something in a foreign tongue which must mean ‘I’m home!’ Mrs Briggs runs down the stairs with her finger to her lips and hisses: Shush Mister, your wife is in labour and I am attending to her.  She is doing well. But this is women’s business. Sit yourself down here and I’ll tell you when you have a child. Not long now. The husband is a strong good-looking young fellow with a moustache but no beard and no ringlets. He has a goodish suit not one of those long coats that some of them wear.

    She is pleased that he seems to accept her authority and her competence. He’s not getting agitated or wanting a doctor sent for, like some of them will.  Of course a doctor is sometimes needed and Mrs Briggs knows who to send for if it comes to it. If he’s around today that is, but we’ll worry about that if it happens. A cry from Rachel sends her hurrying back and its time to push! I won’t do the whole stage two of labour because you’ve heard it before and seen it on the screen in all its gory glory. The blood smeared hair, the crumpled little face emerging etc etc. Let’s cut to the point where rapt Rachel receives the wrapped little bundle in her arms and smiles with delight at the sight of her blue-eyed little girl. Now Jacob is allowed in too and he grins with happiness and relief. Of course he needs a son to help with the business in due course, but a duaghter will be fine to begin with. They decide to call her Freydel, which means Joy. Her English name will be Florrie.