Mark betrayed no surprise at the unusual gesture, pumping her hand in return. “I hear you are Ellen’s friend and colleague.”
Amelia looked at Ellen. “Isthis…?”
Ellen sighed. “My husband unexpectedly retired from the Navy. He insisted I show him where I spend most of my time.”
Amelia’s eyebrows twitched. “I see.”
The baby in Mrs. Daugherty’s arms fell to whimpering, exhausted by his own screaming. Ellen’s ears rang in the semi-quiet.
“Ellen told me about the work you do here.” Mark looked around the plain waiting room, with the wall full of medicines and herbs behind the counter, the bare wooden floor, and the faded wallpaper.
Ellen prepared herself for an insult. Instead, Mark shook his head. “I worked with men of all backgrounds in the Navy, but I had no idea the troubles doctors faced here in London.”
Amelia gave a hesitant smile. Ellen knew she was used to men who looked down at her and laughed when she told them she’d gone to medical school. “It certainly keeps us on our toes.”
Mark opened his mouth to say more, but the next group of patients walked into the building. A few were still hungover, while the others loudly argued about the timing of their appointment. Ellen counted the seven people crowding the room, cataloguing quickly who'd the worst illness or injury. She took the sleeping baby from Mrs. Daugherty so the woman could do her job assessing needs and checking the appointment ledger, then slipped into the semi-quiet of the exam room.
“Do you still need some boxes moved?” Ellen heard Mark ask, and she sighed in relief. She needed to get away from him for a few moments to settle her nerves.
Amelia ducked into the exam room with her. “What ishedoing here?” she hissed, shutting the thin door.
Ellen gave an elaborate one-shoulder shrug, careful not to jostle the sleeping child. “It was a condition to move back in with him.”
“You’re moving in with your husband?” Amelia’s eyes widened. “I thought we hated him!” Before she could interrogateEllen, the door swung open and a patient walked in, clutching his stomach.
“Hurts real bad, doc,” the adolescent boy mumbled.
Ellen took that opportunity to escape Amelia’s questions, sitting at Amelia’s stool, one hand cradling the baby, and opened the rolltop desk to scratch out a list of duties for the day. She needed the routine to calm her mind.
Amelia sometimes knew people who donated items to the dispensary or the patients, and she’d mentioned a new quilting group interested in what Ellen did.
The Patel twins were doing well so far, though they certainly weren’t out of the woods yet. She needed to spend two hours there by midafternoon to check for cyanotic spells and give the exhausted parents a rest.
Tina O’Malley was pregnant again and wasting away from all the pregnancies back-to-back. Ellen wanted to check on her, even though pregnancy didn’t fall under her scope.
Little John Peele, the baby with the bad jaundice, should be looked in on also, if just for a few moments.
Then there were the Baggins and Lorde babies, thankfully neighbors, who were both still two weeks from being full-term.
Elke Heinrich was nearly two months old, and her grandmother was struggling to feed her after the baby’s mother had died of puerperal fever two weeks ago.
Precious Mwangi was grieving her premature baby who died from a cyanotic spell a month ago, and Ellen didn’t want to look in on her but knew not many other people would.
There were others to see. There were always others. The pregnant women could contact midwives, and if there was an emergency, there were hospitals the women could go to. Ellen ignored the growing weight in her arms and the complaining teenager behind her, mapping out her route for the rest of the day.I still need to gather my belongings and move. And let my parents know.She sighed, then held her breath in fear she’d wake the baby boy. He shifted, whimpering in his sleep, and she kissed his head. “You’ll be fed soon, my sweet.” She stood, moving around the adolescent’s gangly legs hanging off the end of the examining table, to reach her cabinet of supplies. Ellen packed her large wicker basket one handed, then slipped back to the waiting room.
After a few more moments, the baby’s too-young mother entered the crowded room, weaving between waiting people and looking not nearly as close to tears.
Ellen met her in the middle of the room with a smile. “Perfect timing.” She glanced down at the glass bottles shaped like bananas in the girl’s hands. “Mrs. Daugherty is behind the counter there. If you’ve never done artificial feeding before, it can be an adjustment. She can show you how to do it. She can also show you how to hand express, if you like, and we might even have a hand pump to help.”
The girl bit her lip, looking down at her sleeping, skinny child. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confided in a whisper.
Ellen’s heart twisted. “You’re a wonderful mother. I can see how much you love your little boy, and Mrs. Daugherty is just going to give a little help to make sure you two have what you need to put some fat on those cheeks.”
She nodded bravely and took her son back, juggling him and the bottles, and turned to find Mrs. Daugherty.
Ellen followed the girl to let the older woman know she was leaving and probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. “Did the lieutenant leave?”
“No, he’s just pulling some supplies down from Amelia’s flat upstairs and bringing them to me.”