Patchwork Society by Sharon Johnston

Patchwork Society by Sharon Johnston

Author:Sharon Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario;Second World War;historical novels;Northern Ontario;bootlegging;courage;divorce;strong women;stories based on true story;single mothers;Indian Act;racism;residential schools;immigrants;nursing;nurse;Depression;the Soo;David Johnston's wife;Canadian novel;Canadian literature
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2020-03-28T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 28

Madame Pelletier, known as Marta to the nursing students, managed their incoming and outgoing mail. Ivy had been back at Royal Victoria for three weeks when her watch showed 4:00 p.m., the time most mail would be sorted by Marta. She hustled to the mailroom, hoping for news from Red. From Ivy’s pigeonhole, Madame Pelletier pulled a large packet of letters she had tied with string and placed it on the oak counter. “Vous êtes comblé des lettres, mademoiselle.”

Ivy responded, “Oui, oui, madame,” understanding “You have a lot of mail.” She did a quick scan, noting a return address at Wycliffe College, the university residence where Red boarded. Ivy returned to her room, tossed the packet on her bed, and rushed down the long corridor to the hospital. She relished the thought of having mail at the end of an exhausting day and had a light step and broad smile when she reached her patients. Her second year in nursing school had begun in the maternity ward. She showed the same concern and warmth for mothers with complaints as she had for the elderly patients the previous year.

Dr. Pierre Lavoie arrived on the ward to “check on his moms” while Ivy was administering perineal care to Monique Seguin, a haggard-looking mother from St. Henri, a poor district in the southwest corner of Montreal. This was her ninth birth but only the first time she had delivered in a hospital. Ivy drew up the bedsheet as the doctor approached and then moved aside so the doctor could speak privately with the patient. He spoke in a colloquial French that Ivy didn’t understand.

“He’s telling her she must say no!” Miss Hobbs said with an earthy laugh.

Mademoiselle Seguin made a sign of resignation with her upturned hands before Dr. Lavoie and Miss Hobbs walked on to another patient in a private room.

The director gestured for Ivy to follow, and they remained in the corridor outside the patient’s room. “Deirdre MacKay grew up in the Square Mile,” Miss Hobbs observed. “She’s suffering from the post-baby blues, according to a psychiatrist from Allan Memorial Institute.”

Ivy was struck by the skepticism in Miss Hobbs’s voice. “For a short time, I lived with a family in Calgary who adopted a baby named Florence. My mother arranged the adoption. I don’t know the whole story, but Florence’s mother suffered from the baby blues when she lived in England. I was too young to realize exactly what happened, but the mother — her name was Annabel — committed suicide.”

“Yes. I remember the little girl lived at the Galt Hospital for a short time until she was taken away,” Miss Hobbs interjected. “We probationers were told the mother had died on a ship.”

“She jumped overboard,” Ivy said quietly. “I don’t remember much other than my mother’s crying. I do remember seeing Annabel struggling in the water.”

“Miss Durling, the patients named you La Poupée because you brought them comfort, like their dolls in childhood.”

“They must be recalling my blanket blitz,” Ivy said modestly.



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