warmth between us suddenly slipped away. I did not accompany her to the door of my
consulting room. ‘Miss Stansfield?’
She turned towards me, coolly enquiring.
‘Do you intend to keep the baby?’
She considered me briefly and then smiled – a secret smile which I am convinced only
pregnant women know. ‘Oh yes,’ she said, and let herself out.
By the end of that day I had treated identical twins for identical cases of poison ivy,
lanced a boil, removed a hook of metal from a sheet-welder’s eye, and had referred one of
my oldest patients to White Memorial for what was surely cancer. I had forgotten all
about Sandra Stansfield by then. Ella Davidson recalled her to my mind by saying:
‘Perhaps she’s not a chippie after all.’
I looked up from my last patient’s folder. I had been looking at it, feeling that useless
disgust most doctors feel when they know they have been rendered completely helpless,
and thinking I ought to have a rubber stamp made up for such files – only instead of
saying ACCOUNT RECEIVABLE or PAID IN FULL or PATIENT MOVED, it would
simply say DEATH-WARRANT. Perhaps with a skull and crossbones above, like those
on bottles of poison.
‘Pardon me?’
‘Your Miss Jane Smith. She did a most peculiar thing after her appointment this
morning.’ The set of Mrs Davidson’s head and mouth made it clear that this was the sort
of peculiar thing of which she approved.
‘And what was that?’
‘When I gave her her appointment card, she asked me to tot up her expenses. All of her
expenses. Delivery and hospital stay included.’
That was a peculiar thing, all right. This was 1935, remember, and Miss Stansfield
gave every impression of being a woman on her own. Was she well off, even comfortably
off? I didn’t think so. Her dress, shoes, and gloves had all been smart, but she had worn
no jewellery -not even costume jewellery. And then there was her hat, that decidedly out-
of-date cloche.
‘Did you do it?’ I asked.
Mrs Davidson looked at me as though I might have lost my senses. ‘Did I? Of course I did! And she paid the entire amount. In cash.’
The last, which apparently had surprised Mrs Davidson the most (in an extremely
pleasant way, of course), surprised me not at all. One thing which the Jane Smiths of the
world can’t do is write cheques.
Took a bank-book out of her purse, opened it, and counted the money right out onto
my desk,’ Mrs Davidson was continuing. Then she put her receipt in where the cash had
been, put the bank-book into her purse again, and said good day. Not half bad, when you
think of the way we’ve had to chase some of these so-called “respectable” people to make them pay their bills!’
I felt chagrined for some reason. I was not happy with the Stansfield woman for having
done such a thing, with Mrs Davidson for being so pleased and complacent with the
arrangement, and with myself, for some reason I couldn’t define then and can’t now.
Something about it made me feel small.
‘But she couldn’t very well pay for a hospital stay now, could she?’ I asked – it was a
ridiculously small thing to seize on, but it was all I could find at that moment on which to
express my pique and half-amused frustration. ‘After all, none of us know how long shell
have to remain there. Or are you reading the crystal now, Ella?’
‘I told her that very thing, and she asked what the average stay was following an
uncomplicated birth. I told her three days. Wasn’t that right, Dr McCarron?’
I had to admit it was.
‘She said that she would pay for three days, then, and if it was longer, she would pay
the difference, and if-‘
‘- if it was shorter, we could issue her a refund,’ I finished wearily. I thought: Damn the
woman, anyway! – and then I laughed. She had guts. One couldn’t deny that All kinds of
guts.
Mrs Davidson allowed herself a smile … and if I am ever tempted, now that I am in my
dotage, to believe I know all there is to know about one of my fellow creatures, I try to
remember that smile. Before that day I would have staked my iife that I would never see
Mrs Davidson, one of the most ‘proper’ women I have ever known, smile fondly as she
thought about a girl who was pregnant out of wedlock.
‘Guts? I don’t know, Doctor. But she knows her own mind, that one. She certainly
does.’
A month passed, and Miss Stansfield showed up promptly for her appointment, simply
appearing out of that wide, amazing flow of humanity that was New York then and is
New York now. She wore a fresh-looking blue dress to which she managed to
communicate a feeling of originality, of one-of-a-kind-ness, despite the fact that it had
been quite obviously picked from a rack of dozens just like it. Her pumps did not match
it; they were the same brown ones in which I had seen her last time.
I checked her over carefully and found her normal in every way. I told her so and she
was pleased. ‘I found the pre-natal vitamins, Dr McCarron.’
‘Did you? That’s good.’
Her eyes sparkled impishly. “The druggist advised me against them.’
‘God save me from pestle-pounders,’ I said, and she giggled against the heel of her
palm – it was a childlike gesture, winning in its unselfconsciousness. ‘I never met a
druggist that wasn’t a frustrated doctor. And a Republican. Pre-natal vitamins are new, so
they’re regarded with suspicion. Did you take his advice?’
‘No, I took yours. You’re my doctor.’
Thank you.’
‘Not at all.’ She looked at me straightforwardly, not giggling now. ‘Dr McCarron, when
will I begin to show?’
‘Not until August, I should guess. September, if you choose garments which are … uh,
voluminous.’
Thank you.’ She picked up her purse but did not rise immediately to go. I thought that
she wanted to talk … and didn’t know where or how to begin.
‘You’re a working woman, I take it?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I work.’
‘Might I ask where? If you’d rather I didn’t -‘
She laughed – a brittle, humourless laugh, as different from that giggle as day is from
dark. ‘In a department store. Where else does an unmarried woman work in the city? I sell
perfume to fat ladies who rinse their hair and then have it done up in tiny finger-waves.’
‘How long will you continue?’
‘Until my delicate condition is noticed. I suppose then I’ll be asked to leave, lest I upset
any of the fat ladies. The shock of being waited on by a pregnant woman with no
wedding-band might cause their hair to straighten.’
Quite suddenly her eyes were bright with tears. Her lips began to tremble, and I groped
for a handkerchief. But the tears didn’t fall – not so much as a single one. Her eyes
brimmed for a moment and then she blinked them back. Her lips tightened … and then
smoothed out. She simply decided she was not going to lose control of her emotions …
and she did not. It was a remarkable thing to watch.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very kind to me. I won’t repay your kindness with
what would be a very common story.’
She rose to go, and I rose with her.
‘I’m not a bad listener,’ I said, ‘and I have some time. My next patient cancelled.’
‘No,’ she said. Thank you, but no.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘But there’s something else.’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s not my policy to make my patients – any of my patients – pay for services in
advance of those services being rendered. I hope if you … that is, if you feel you’d like to
… or have to …’ I fumbled my way into silence.
I’ve been in New York four years, Dr McCarron, and I’m thrifty by nature. After
August – or September – I’ll have to live on what’s in my savings account until I can go
back to work again. It’s not a great amount and sometimes, during the nights, mostly, I
become frightened.’
She looked at me steadily with those wonderful hazel eyes.
‘It seemed better to me – safer – to pay for the baby first. Ahead of everything. Because
that is where the baby is in my thoughts, and because, later on, the temptation to spend
that money might become very great’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘But please remember that I see it as having been paid before
accounts. If you need it, say so.’
‘And bring out the dragon in Mrs Davidson again?’ The impish light was back in her
eyes. ‘I don’t think so. And now, Doctor-‘
‘You intend to work as long as possible? Absolutely as long as possible?’