"Here". He said passing the mug of tea over to the prisoner, casually propped against the cell wall, although she was eyeing him suspiciously.
"Ta" the woman replied, taking the cup off him, breathing in the warm steam that drifted towards her.
"I've telephoned one of the midwives. She'll be here soon". The prisoner did not respond to him, Peter quite often being used to the uncommunicative nature of those that found themselves in these cells, even though she had been less than contrite for her reasons for being arrested little more than half an hour ago. The cell was small, cramped and with so little space, his presence loomed over her.
"You got a kid Constable?" she asked as he was about to step away.
"No" he replied, adding 'not yet' quickly.
"Missus?" she asked again, taking a sip of the tea. Police Station tea was generally so ridiculously boiling hot and he saw the grimace cross her face.
"Yes" he replied.
"She must be best pleased wiv you".
"Why?"
"Tea, even vo it's like dishwater" she replied, gesturing with the cup. In reality he felt quite sorry for her. His head had sprung up the moment she was bundled through the door of the Police Station, mostly by the hellish noise she was making, screaming and swearing at the two young Constables almost hauling her across the corridor. If she was pregnant as she said and in labour, as she later said, then whilst he would not have the first inclination what to do other than telephone Nonnatus, a cell was not a place for a baby to spend its first moments.
He was about to respond to her when he heard "Constable!" shouted down the cell corridor. Quietly he closed the door, locking it and walked back where he had come from to find the Sergeant, a new officer who had only been in Poplar for little more than a week, and his wife.
"If you could take the Nurse down to the cell". The Sergeant did not know his Constable's personal arrangements quite yet and he could see that she nodded politely and respectfully at his presence; so entirely unlike the wide smiles that she usually gave him.
"Yes, Sir. Come this way Nurse".
Chummy followed him down the corridor.
"Who's that?" she whispered as she walked a pace behind him.
"Sergeant Graves. Been here a week from Southwark".
"So that's why you refer to me as 'Nurse' then?" she asked.
"Yes and it feels very odd" he whispered in response. "I'd be straight into being disciplined if I called you Camilla!". Away in the distance they could hear muffled cursing and a fist very clearly hit the inside of the cell door.
"So what is she saying?" Chummy asked as they found the cell and he retrieved the keys from his belt. A kick of foot against wood was heard from inside.
"Just that she's in labour. Sergeant says she might be feigning but I'm on cell duty and delivering babies is your job" he said, as she heard the key twist in the lock. "Do you want me to stay outside?" He had not quite opened the door yet.
"No. I'll be fine", she said giving his arm a discreet squeeze as she moved around him towards the door. It worried him though that the prisoner was clearly violent.
"I'll leave the cell door open; if she makes a run for it she'll have to come back straight past me anyway".
"She's probably in no fit state to run!" Chummy commented, before stopping again. "By the way. I told Bob about the baby. He and Ronnie are back".
"Help me! Will someun' come 'n bloody well help me!"
"What's her name?" Chummy asked quickly sensing the agitation from the other side of the door and their conversation about her brother was lost.
"Ivy" he replied quickly before he departed leaving them both be but keeping his ears well and truly open to the slightest disruption from the final cell in that corridor.
"Hello Ivy, I'm Nurse Noakes" Chummy said, introducing herself before kneeling on the floor; the only space to be had.
"Noakes? You got the same name as tha' copper", she replied, eyeing up the form of the midwife in front of her. She had seen Nurse Noakes before in Clinic.
"He's my husband", she replied. As much as she was being polite, if this woman was in labour she would have to be removed from the Police Station to somewhere far more comfortable immediately. "The officer that arrested you said you were in pain", Chummy continued.
"I was. I fink me babba's on its way", she replied, proudly washing her hand over her not so prominent abdomen. Chummy noticed there was a tatty wedding ring.
"So how many weeks are you?" Chummy asked, opening up her bag to take out a pinard. She did worry for a moment that it might be somewhat useless in comparison to this ladies' girth and she was not convinced she might be able to hear Baby anyway.
"Firty eight nearly or vat's least wot you lot say".
"Can I examine you?" The woman saw the pinard and open bag with all kinds of horrific looking instruments on display.
"Do you 'ave to Nurse? Dun't like being messed wiv".
"Well if I'm to get you out of here if you are in labour, then yes I do" she replied firmly, seeing that she would have to ensure that her patient toed the line .
"If you 'ave to then". She started to unbutton her dress.
Chummy gently palpated the woman's stomach, only just behind able to locate Baby's anatomy. Peter had been right that the lady in question could not be described as 'slim' and she could not feel how far baby's head was down to even estimate whether it might be engaged. It certainly did not feel free but there was no way of telling otherwise without a full internal examination and this was certainly not the place.
"How far apart are your pains?" Chummy asked, gently crossing the woman's dress back over her.
"Dunno" was the helpful response.
"Well are they coming slowly or quickly after each other?" Chummy asked, always knowing that she should be patient if needs be.
"Not a long time".
"Well tell me if one happens soon", Chummy said quietly, still trying to see if she could locate the baby's head. Half a minute or so later as Chummy lay her hands on the woman's abdomen she heard 'ver's one comin' nurse!'. She let the contraction ride its way out gently palpating the woman's abdomen as it passed. Chummy knew by instinct all was not well; but not in the sense of her patient was in labour or anywhere near to being so though. Despite her patient's report her abdomen remained soft and pliable all through the 'contraction' and immediately she was suspicious of motive.
"Are you warm enough?" she asked.
"Yeah. Fink so" came the non-committal response.
"Right," Chummy said, standing back up, using the wall to lever herself, "I'll be back in a moment".
"Well is she?" he asked as she reappeared at the custody desk.
"Pregnant yes, in labour, no. She might be telling you she's in pain but there's no sign of labour at all. One would say your new Sergeant is quite correct and she is feigning. Possibly to see if she can get out of here; or just for the attention of the whole blessed thing. Do you want me to speak to her?"
"I'd be inclined to say no and just leave her there" he replied, as she heard the frustration in his voice. "But yes, I do suppose you must"
"Ivy?" Chummy asked as she knelt back down."Any more pains?" She had only been gone less than two minutes.
"Yeah", she replied. "Jus' before you come back".
"Good", Chummy replied, kneeling back down again, knowing her suspicions had been right. If this lady was having contractions less than a minute or two apart she would not be quite so relaxed as to still be sipping the remainder of her cold tea. "Ivy, there haven't been any have there?"
"Ver was!"
"Well, when I was in here before you were saying you were having a pain, but when I held your belly it didn't go hard. When you have a real pain your belly goes hard because the muscles are so tight".
She received a sullen look. She had thought that Ivy was perhaps a little older, but that look suggested she was little more than teenager. "Orrite Nurse. No, I jus' wann to go 'ome. I didn't pinch nuffink". Chummy had no idea what the woman (girl?) had or had not done so she refrained from comment.
"You do realise if you do go into labour properly no-one might believe you?"
"Tell ve bluebottle I'll 'ave anuther cuppa if he's makin' one" came the response to her question. Chummy bit her tongue as she stood up. Bluebottles - another term of abuse for her husband's profession that she could not bear.
"Want me to collect you to go home?" he asked as she found herself back at the custody desk.
"You don't have to. It is the opposite direction" she replied, doing up her gabardine.
"I will collect you at 8".
He went to kiss her, until he realised he was in his place or work and not particularly fancying the ticking off he would get if it was witnessed. She had pulled back from him anyway when she had realised too.
"Save it for later" she said quietly as she turned tail out of the Police Station.