The Midwife: A Memoir of Birth, Joy, and Hard Times by Jennifer Worth

I says. Them poor little kids. They didn’t ask to be born, did they, now? I always says it’s a ... ”
    I cut her short. “That paraffin heater is a death-trap. I’m going to inform the police. We’ve got to get in there.”
    Her eyes gleamed, and she sucked her teeth. She clutched my arm and said: “You going to call the police, then? Cor!”
    She dashed off down the balcony and knocked on another door. I imagined her bearing the news all around Baffin Buildings, even if it took her the entire night. Tiredness had left me, and I sped down the stairs to street level, and just about ran to the nearest phone box. The police listened with concern to my story and said they would come at once. Marjorie had to be informed, I decided, so my next call was Ontario Buildings.
    Poor woman. When I told her she crumpled, as though I had hit her in the stomach.
    “Oh no, I can’t bear any more,” she moaned. “I guessed as much. She’s gone on the game, then.”
    So innocent was I, that I didn’t know what she meant.
    “What game?” I said, thinking she meant darts or billiards or gambling in a local pub.
    Marjorie looked at me compassionately. “Never you mind, ducky. You don’t need to know about that sort of thing. I must go and see after them kiddies.”
    We went together in silence. The police were already at the door working on the lock. I had thought that they would bring a locksmith with them, but no - most policemen are expert at picking locks. Do they learn it in College? I wondered.
    A crowd had gathered on the balcony. No one wanted to miss a thing. Marjorie stepped forward saying that she was the grandmother, and when the door was opened she was the first to enter. The police and I followed.
    The room was suffocatingly hot, and the stench putrid. The children were not to be seen, apart from the baby, who was blissfully asleep. I went over to her, and she looked surprisingly well cared for, clean and well fed. The rest of the room was indescribable. It was full of flies to begin with, and a heap of excrement and dirty nappies in a corner was crawling with maggots.
    Marjorie went into the bedroom, gently calling the boys’ names. They were behind the chair. She took them in her arms, tears streaming down her face.
    “Never mind, my luvvies. Nanna’s got you.”
    The police were taking notes, and I thought perhaps I should leave, as the grandmother would now take charge. But at that moment, there was a commotion outside, and Dick appeared in the doorway. Obviously he had not known that the police were in his flat. As soon as he saw them he turned to run, but his path was barred by the onlookers. They had let him in, but they were not going to let him out again. Perhaps there were several scores to be settled between Dick and his neighbours. He was told that he would be cautioned about the neglect of three children under the age of five.
    He swore, spat, and said, “What’s wrong with ’em? Kids are all right. Nothing wrong, far as I can see.”
    “It’s a very good thing for you that there is nothing wrong. Leaving them alone with a paraffin heater alight and unguarded would have caused a fire if one of the children had knocked it over.”
    Dick started to whine. “That’s not my fault. I didn’t put the heater on. The missus did. I didn’t know she’d gone out and left it. The lazy slut. I’ll give her what for when I sees her.”
    The policeman said: “Where is your wife?”
    “’Ow should I know?”
    Marjorie shouted at him. “Yer villain. Yer know where she is. An’ you made her go, didn’t you. Yer swine.”
    Dick was all innocence. “What’s the old cow on about now?”
    Marjorie was about to scream a reply, but the policeman stopped her. “You can settle your differences when we have gone. We have put it on record that you have been cautioned about leaving your children unattended, and in a dangerous situation. If it occurs again, you will be charged.”
    Dick was all wheedling