The Midwife's Here!: The Enchanting True Story of One of Britain's Longest Serving Midwives by Linda Fairley

Author:Linda Fairley [Fairley, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0007446306
Amazon: B006I1J54W
Publisher: Harper Element
Published: 2012-05-09T23:00:00+00:00

When the day of my interview finally arrived I tried to play it cool, even though I was flapping around the house more than Billy Buckley in his cage.

‘Are you nervous?’ Graham asked as I fixed and re-fixed my hair in a bun and charged up and down the stairs with different coats, seeing which one looked best over my smart navy-blue skirt, pressed blouse and fine-knit cardigan.

‘Not really,’ I fibbed. ‘I know I stand a good chance of getting this post. I’ve got the right qualifications and there’s a place for me if they think I can do it. It’s not as if hundreds of people are fighting over the job.’

All this was true, but of course there were no guarantees. I still had to impress Miss Sefton. She had the power to end my dream this very day. I had to prove I was right for this role, and that I wanted it with all my heart.

In the event, my interview turned out to be a breeze, after Mrs Ingham appeared unexpectedly and introduced me enthusiastically to the interview panel as ‘my little obstetric nurse’. I discovered Mrs Ingham was an occasional visiting tutor at Ashton’s Maternity Unit, giving lectures to pupil midwives. I really hoped I’d be in her class one day.

To my relief, Miss Sefton, Head of Midwifery, and Miss O’Neil, Deputy Head of Midwifery, both followed Mrs Ingham’s lead, welcoming me so warmly I felt as if I were practically one of the family.

Miss Sefton was small and smartly dressed in a burgundy dress with a mandarin collar. She pursed her lips as she spoke, which made her look strict and posh, but she was also very friendly, even congratulating me on my marriage. Miss O’Neil was younger and dressed in a grey uniform, and she too seemed very pleasant. Compared to meeting Miss Morgan at the MRI, it was as easy as pie.

Despite the convivial atmosphere, I still sat bolt upright throughout the interview and took care to speak clearly and give sensible, considered answers. It wasn’t difficult, as most questions were about whether or not I was happy to do shift work, attend lectures outside working hours and do night duty – all of which I expected and was perfectly willing to agree to.

At the end of the questioning Miss Sefton announced that she would like to offer me a position as a pupil midwife, and that a letter would be in the post. She then went on to give details of pay, holidays and so forth, which I was too overwhelmed to take in fully.

‘Thank you!’ I beamed as all three women bid me a cheerful goodbye.

I could scarcely believe it, and I don’t think I really did until a formal letter arrived in the post a week later, officially offering me the position of pupil midwife. To say it was a dream come true is an understatement; I was beside myself with happiness and brimming with anticipation. I was actually going to train as a midwife.

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