The Mason's Wife

The Mason's Wife

Julie Isard-Brown


GBP 17,50

Format: 13.5 x 21.5 cm
Number of Pages: 406
ISBN: 978-3-99048-116-5
Release Date: 21.06.2016
Read Sarah McWilliam’s story as she tells her family. From Tranmere, she and her mother, Mary, a midwife, help Agnes, wife of Robert McWilliam, deliver her third child. When Agnes dies Sarah looks after the children. See what future has in store for Sarah, Robert and the children.
Preface

This story is based in fact. My grandfather knew nothing of his family as he lost both his parents shortly after he turned four. He was taken into the workhouse and adopted out by the Aspley Guise Committee to a family in Bow Brickhill. His sister, Lily was also sent out to Bow Brickhill but she was never adopted, just in service. Their brother, Walter Alexander Brown stayed in the workhouse as he was much older. He soon enlisted in the army and became a musician in the 1st battalion of the Royal West Kent Regiment. Walter was the only one of the three siblings to never marry and died with my grandfather at his side in 1961.
After my grandfather and father died I took it upon myself to find out what I could about their and my other ancestors. It was this line of my family, however, that interested me most.
I have spent many years researching the family and visited Scotland frequently. There were many more records for the family in Scotland than I ever found in the English archives. I have built the story up around these facts and interspersed it with events of the time. Over the years I feel I have come to know this family almost like they were alive and living with me.
I dedicate this story to my father, Reginald James Brown, and my grandfather, James Lumbard Brown. I know they would have loved to have been alive when I found out the details.


CHAPTER 1
Starting out

Young Walter turned to his grandmother, and asked, “Granny, where were you born?”
It was Friday, 21 July 1865 and Walter and his granny, Sarah McWilliam, were in her kitchen, in a two roomed cottage in Lesmahagow. The inside of the cottage was basic. The bricks on the inside had been whitewashed and you could see up into the low roof arch. The roof supports were clearly visible, however, the cottage was divided into two at the roof apex, so half of the supports were in one room and the other half were in the other room. The cottage had a stone floor made up of tiles. They were nearly always cold, even in the summer.
There was a big open fireplace in the centre of the wall adjoining the next cottage and there was a range of sorts in the centre of the fireplace. In reality, it was a metal frame following the shape of the fireplace, which reached up to almost head-height, from which chains with hooks dangled for pots to be hung from for cooking. There was also a small metal stove at one end of the fireplace – a modern contraption, which was used more often than the original construction.
A cupboard stood against the wall to the other room, furthest away from the window. It held the crockery on its shelves and cups hanging from hooks. A table and chairs were next. They weren’t fancy, but adequate for the family’s needs. On the table was a vase of f lowers, to add a bit of colour to the room. A wellused rocking chair, that had seen better days, was over by the window, and it was here that Sarah was sitting.
Two beds were built into the wall in the front room, by the front door. Makeshift curtain frames had been put around them to distance them from the main living area, so they looked like primitive four-poster beds, without the wooden frame. Both of the beds had been made up with simple patterned blankets, although one appeared more used than the other.
Sarah was 52 years old, and looked tired. She looked about 7 years older than her age, and had grey hair that was once mousey brown, tied back in a bun. She stood about 5 feet 4 inches tall and was slightly plump, almost the image of her mother at that age. She had a jovial face, but one that looked like it had seen much misery. She wore a simple black dress with long, straight sleeves and a high neck line with a small white collar that buttoned at the front. The dress had a natural waist and came down to just below her ankles. It was flatter at the front but had a bit of a bustle at the back. She wore a pair of neat black lace up shoes.
Three boys of varying ages sat at the table; Sarah’s son, Nathaniel, whose tenth birthday was that day, sat quietly reading. To his left, his nephew, Walter, who had turned 6 years old just three weeks earlier, was carefully learning his letters, whilst Alexander, Walter’s younger brother at 2½ years, happily scribbled a picture. As it was Nathaniel’s birthday, Sarah was taking some time out to sit with the boys. The two older boys were dressed in a cream shirt and grey trousers with long socks and the youngest one was in a navy check dress of the period, with mid length sleeves and coming to just below the knees, from which protruded pantalettes of the same colour. All the clothes were less than new, and in the case of the children, most of them were hand-me-downs.
Sarah looked at Walter and smiled. She replied, “Hmm, now tha’s somethin’ I’ve no’ been asked for a while. It almost seems a lifetime away now. Do you really want tae know?”
“Aye, Granny,” replied Walter, then, turning to his uncle, he asked, “Do you know the story?”
Nathaniel stopped what he was doing and looked at Walter. “I knew ma’ was from England,” he replied, “but I’ve no’ really asked.”
Turning to his mother he said, “Aye, I’d like tae know as well.”
Sarah looked at the boys. “Well, if you must, and as it’s your birthday, Nat…”
Sarah began to relate the story. “I was born in a wee village called Tranmere, in Cheshire. Tranmere sits on the river Mersey and my father was a ferryman, travelling back and forth across the river. His name was Thomas, and my mother was Mary. I was one of eight bairns – I had three sisters and four brothers. Hannah was two years older than me, John was three years younger than me, then came Mary two years later, Robert one year after that, Jane nine years later, and then came Thomas five years later. There was also another, Joseph, born two years after Thomas, but he only survived a few months. Father made sure we learned to read and write. He taught us in his few days off, and made sure we kept it up.
“I never thought I’d move sae far away way back then, hmm, s’funny how life changes.” Sarah stopped talking, and recalled in her mind the days of her youth. She woke out of her reverie and continued.
“I had lots of friends my own age, too – all wee ones of the boatmen. There were six farms – I knew the families on three o’ them.” She smiled as she thought of them. “There was also a butcher, a brewer, a couple o’ blacksmiths and a couple o’ carpenters. And then there were three ale houses and two shops.
“My childhood was nothing different. The fun started a few years later, when I was in my teens. Things started to get a wee bit busy. There were people coming in to build the new houses in Birkenhead, just a wee bit up from Tranmere. There was space in some o’ the cottages, so the villagers took in incomers before they found somewhere in the new town.
“That’s where I met Robert and his wife Agnes –” Walter suddenly interrupted her. “You mean gran’fer? He was a’ready married?”
Sarah nodded and continued. “Aye, well he was then. They came tae the village when I was about 23. They had their two bairns, Agnes and William – your Uncle and Auntie, and Agnes was expecting another. She was nearly due tae have the bairn when they came tae the village. There was an empty cottage on the French’s farm, up in Holt Hill, so they rented that for a while.”
“I dinnae remember Agnes and William,” said Nathaniel, surprised.
“They didnae come tae Scotland wi’ us,” answered Sarah. Her eyes glazed over as she thought fondly of the last time she ever saw either of them. Walter and Nathaniel had stopped what they were doing and sat enthralled as Sarah continued to relate the story. Alexander had gotten bored with his scribbling, and was now sitting on the floor, playing with his wooden farm animals, looking up from time to time, but not really listening.
“I was helping my ma’ wi’ her job. She was the local midwife and was teaching me how tae help her. We’d just come from the Reverend Martindale’s house – they’d just had a wee daughter born, and I’d been really excited, because ma had let me deliver the bairn by myself. I’d been working with her a while, and I’d watched, and helped, but this was the first one I’d done alone. It was so easy and I thought I was doin’ sae well. Ma had said that it was the first one, but I was still learning. How right she was, too…”

*****

It was Friday, 7 July 1837. The day dawned warm and fair. The sun was shining and there were a few clouds in the sky, with a gentle breeze. Mother and daughter left a house on the west side of Church Road, in a plot on Garner’s Field, almost in Holt Hill. The mother, Mary Foulkes, was 51 years old, but energetic. She looked about 5 years older than her age, and had greying hair that was once mousey brown, tied back in a bun. She stood about 5 feet 4 inches tall and was slightly plump. The daughter, Sarah, was 23 years old. She had mousey brown hair, also, and looked very much like a younger version of Mary. She stood about 5 feet 7 inches tall and was very slim by comparison. They both wore similar clothes – drab colours, long sleeved, high neck dresses, with a natural waistline that buttoned up at the back, finishing just below the ankles, but not so close to the ground that they dragged. Mary’s dress was grey, whilst Sarah’s dress was mid brown. They both wore caps, shawls and well-worn black lace up shoes. Mary carried a wicker basket with a lid which held the women’s aprons and other birthing equipment.
Sarah was talking excitedly to her mother as they hurried away from the Manse. Agnes McWilliam had just gone into labour – her next door neighbour had come there to tell them that Agnes was in great pain, and she had called in to see her, asking what to do. Susanna Martin, the neighbour, had told Agnes to go back home and wait. Susanna then went to the Foulkes cottage and Hannah, the eldest daughter, had told her where her mother was. Susanna had knocked at the big house and asked to see the pair. Sarah listened to what Susanna had to say and she told Susanna they would come as soon as they were able. Mary had heard them talking and joined her daughter. Mary told Susanna they’d be there presently, so she asked for Susanna to go back and stay with Agnes until they arrived – about a half hour.
Mother and daughter turned left along the road and up towards the junction. There were fields as far as the eye could see, interspersed with cottages. They took the left fork in the road, to Holt Hill, and walked along to the third cottage on the left. Mary knocked on the door and after a moment Susanna opened it. She let them in and they immediately saw poor Agnes, a heavily pregnant woman, who was struggling to stand upright. She was wearing a similar brown-coloured dress, but ill-fitting, due to her condition.
Agnes was a very pretty woman – would have been tall and slender, had it not been for her current predicament – with dark brown hair, tied back in a bun. There were two small children standing at her skirt. The children were both in dresses, the older one wearing cream and the younger one wearing brown. They were both similar to the adults’ dresses, except that they finished just below the knee, with pantalettes. The older child was a girl, aged 3½ years, and her dark brown hair hung loose, coming down to be just about shoulder-length. The younger child was a boy, aged 2 years, and his hair was black, about 2 inches long.
Mary explained, “I’m the midwife, come to help you. How far gone are you?”
Agnes told her that she was in a lot of pain. She’d been in labour for what seemed an eternity, so Mary told her they would see what needed to be done. This was a two roomed cottage, stone built with a thatched roof. The brick walls looked the same inside as they did on the outside, and the thatch was visible from the inside, too. The room to the road was the kitchen-cum-living-room and it was full of both living and cooking furniture.
There was a large fireplace with an open fire, with a metal frame to hold the hooks for the pots to hang from. A large pot was hanging from one of the hooks and water was bubbling away in it. Against the wall was a table and four chairs that were well used. In a corner, away from the cooking area was a rocking chair, which appeared to be the only new item of furniture in the room. The stone floor had some grass matting on it, which made it warmer to walk on and for the children to sit on.
Susanna helped Agnes through to the bedroom, which was through a door off the kitchen. There were two beds in this room, one for the parents and one for the children. The children’s bed was tucked away in a recess and was made up so the children slept at opposite ends to each other. The other bed was free-standing and by its side was a simple wooden cradle. Susanna sat Agnes down on the bed and said, “Now the midwife is here, I’ll be going.” Agnes nodded. Mary turned to Susanna. “Thank you kindly for staying with Agnes until we could get here. She’ll be fine, now.” Susanna nodded and left the cottage. Mother and daughter prepared for the birth. Agnes lay down on the bed and Mary felt her belly. “So, Agnes, is your husband at work?” Mary asked.
“Aye,” replied Agnes. He’s a stonemason, working in Birkenhead.”
“Does he know you’re in labour?” Mary asked.
“I’d no’ bothered tae tell him,” Agnes replied. “Mind, this time seems worse than the others.”
“You’ll be fine,” replied Mary. She then turned to her daughter, and in a quiet voice, so as not to worry Agnes, she said, “You need to go fetch Annie Prieson. I’m thinking we’re going to need the doctor, and she’s got a cart we can use to fetch him. I’ve a feeling something’s not quite right. I’ll make a start here while you go and get her.”
“Right, ma’,” replied Sarah. She walked out of the house, trying not to appear nervous, turned right and ran back down the road, in the direction they had just come, to a cottage opposite the church, part of one of the local farms. Five minutes later she knocked on the door and a woman, dressed in a green skirt and yellow blouse, appeared at the door.
“Mrs. Prieson, ma’ wants you to come.”
“Why Sarah,” Annie started, “Whatever’s the matter?”
“It’s the new lady – she’s in labour, and ma’s worried about her.” Sarah replied.
“Right, give me a few minutes to get myself sorted and I’ll be with you,” Annie answered, turning to go back into her house. Sarah waited on the doorstep until Annie re-emerged a few minutes later with a cap and a shawl on. “Let’s go get the horse and cart,” she said.
They went to a barn further down the farmyard and Annie brought out a simple cart. She then brought out a bay horse and harnessed it to the cart. Both women jumped up on the cart and they galloped off back up the road to Agnes’ cottage. Annie stopped outside and she and Sarah jumped off. Annie tied the horse to the post outside, and they went indoors. Agnes was lying on the bed. Her contractions were coming thick and fast, but the baby was not. With each contraction Agnes was getting more and more agitated and her screams could be clearly heard outside of the cottage. Once inside, Annie stood beside Agnes to offer her support. She wasn’t a proper midwife, like Mary was.
Mary called to her, “Agnes, the baby is coming, so you have to push now.”
As she tried to push, Agnes said, “I’m pushing as hard as I can. There’s something wrong. I know it. My other two bairns weren’t this hard.”
Mary tried to reassure her. “You’re doing grand.” Inside, Mary knew Agnes was right. Mary told Agnes she could see the baby’s head. “Come on Agnes, you can do it,” she added.
Sarah began to panic. She’d never seen a difficult birth. She knew the waters had to break before the baby was born but she’d never seen bleeding before the baby had been born.
“Ma’,” said Sarah, in a whisper, “she’s bleeding really bad. What’s wrong?” “Shush Sarah,” said Annie Prieson, “we don’t want Agnes to panic.”
Mary called out, “Here it comes!” The baby slithered out but not very far. “Oh, but the cord is around its neck,” said Mary.
“Where are those scissors? We need to get it cut as quickly as we can.” Sarah handed them to her. The older women tied off both ends of the cord with twine and Mary cut the cord.
“Done!” said Mary. She gently cleared the cord from around the baby’s neck and pulled it free of Agnes’ body. “Here, Sarah, you see to baby while we try to help Agnes.” Mary handed the baby to Sarah and as she did so the baby made a cry. Sarah took the baby into the other room and began to clean the blood off it.
Agnes, barely conscious, asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a girl Mrs. McWilliam”, said Annie, as she tried to make the woman more comfortable. “Sarah’s just taken her to clean her up. She’ll be back in a minute.”
“It’s you we’ve to concern ourselves with at the moment,” added Mary.
As she said this, Sarah came back into the room and handed the crying baby to Agnes, who was very pale and still, but she managed to take the baby from Sarah. Agnes looked lovingly at the baby. “Jane. Tell Robert. Jane.”
“You can tell him yourself Mrs. McWilliam. He’ll be home soon,” said Sarah. But, Agnes was very weak from her labour and she lost consciousness, so Sarah took the baby back. “Ma’,” Sarah asked, “what’s happening?”
“She’s lost a lot of blood, Sarah,” said her mother. “They don’t normally happen like this. It won’t stop.”
Annie had been waiting for the final stage to be over. She now came over to Mary, who had cleaned up and was checking on the baby. “I’ve got the afterbirth,” said Annie. “She should stop bleeding in a bit. Just look at it – see how it’s torn…” Mary looked at it and nodded. “That’s why there’s so much bleeding. Annie, you’ll have to go get the doctor. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Good job you sent for me”, said Annie. “I’ll not be long.”
Annie wiped her hands and rushed out of the cottage, leaving Mary and Sarah to tend to their patients. They listened as the horse and cart disappeared down the road to Bebington to go for help. Mary had found some baby things to dress the infant in and had taken them in the kitchen. Sarah began to dress the infant as she sat in the kitchen, unsure of what else to do. The children stood around Sarah looking at the baby. Agnes, the older child, said “She’s so tiny…”
“You were that size once”, said Sarah, smiling. She was glad of the children’s company at that moment. It took her mind of the difficult childbirth she had just witnessed. Agnes asked, "Can I touch her?”
“Yes, but gently,” Sarah replied. Agnes stroked her arm for a Moment.
5 Stars
Great - 16.02.2023
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