Ice Hazard: Navigating Treacherous Winter Conditions

I still recall the bitter cold that lay over the little market town of Whitby that winter, the way the frost turned the cobbles into a sheet of black ice. I was already pulling on my nurses coat when the handset on the wards old landline rang.

Grace, called out my colleague, you promised to be here half an hour earlier today. Can you make it?

Of course, I replied, go ahead and see the dentist, Ill be out in a minute.

I hurried down the narrow stairwell and pushed open the door onto the street. The nights chill had left the lane slick with a thin glaze of ice, and the path that led from the back garden to the road was a treacherous ribbon of silver.

Not going to be quick, I muttered, stepping cautiously onto the slippery surface and making my way toward the bus stop.

Halfway along, the groundsmanknown to everyone as Mr. Carter, though his full surname was a mouthfulwas apologising to passersby.

No sand today, the delivery never came, he said, and the crowd merely smiled, No matter, Mr. Carter, well get through it!

When I finally emerged onto the pavement, the early morning mud and the remnants of a light snowfall made a slushy, grey carpet. The walkers who had passed earlier had left their footprints, turning the fresh snow into a dark, slushfilled mess. I pressed on, my mind drifting between the two patients waiting for me one a new mother in Ward5, the other a young girl in Ward7.

Then, without warning, the ice gave way beneath my boots. I slipped, landing hard on the ground, my hands clawing at the filthy slush to steady myself. I grimaced at the muck that swarmed around my fingers, when suddenly a firm grip lifted me by the armpits and steadied me.

Thank you, I said, turning to see a tall man with a warm smile.

Dont mention it, he replied, but youll need to wash this off once youre home.

Im in a hurry, I said.

Then best of luck at work, he said, and walked off down the narrow lane.

Back inside the hospital, I slipped my muddy coat into the laundry basket and handed it to the orderly, asking him to hang it up. The nightshift sister was already at the nurses station, murmuring about the new admissions.

The oncall doctor is still here, keeping an eye on the fresh case. Shes a young thing, terrified of giving birth, but shes decided to keep the baby. Her parents live up north; she came to stay with her aunt for the delivery, then shell go back home.

Which ward?

Seventh.

A sigh escaped me as the day truly began. I entered Ward7 and met the oncall doctor, who gave me a quick briefing before I slipped into the room where the patient lay turned toward the wall. I touched her shoulder; she turned, her eyes wide.

Are you a doctor?

Yes, Im Grace Evans, I said. And you are?

Emily, she whispered. I already know what I want to do. Ill have an abortion.

Is that your decision alone?

Its a family decision.

Does the father know?

Not yet. I think he doesnt want a child.

I tried to make her see a different path. You have a responsibility to tell him. A child isnt a toy. You still have your own parents. Why deny him love?

She looked frightened, as if a storm were about to break within her.

Im still young, I need to study, she replied.

Then think ahead, dear. Every action carries weight. It isnt right to shirk responsibility for a tiny life that will need its mother from the first breath. I paused, feeling her tremble, and added, Imagine being in a train carriage, snug and warm, then suddenly being thrown out into the cold. Thats what a newborn faces without a mothers care.

How can you help him? she snapped.

You are the help he needs.

I dont want to.

Theres still time to think, to call the father. Do not fear childbirth; it will be alright.

I squeezed her hand and smiled gently. In Emilys eyes I saw pain, confusion, and a flickering hope that perhaps, like in childhood, her troubles would melt away.

All day I thought of Emily and of myself. I was thirtyfour, yet a family had slipped through my fingers. At university I had been engaged to a fellow student, Thomas, but a drunken driver took his life on our fourth year. Grief held me for months; later I told myself that dating again would betray Thomass memory. Time passed, my peers married, but I never found a suitable partner.

My dear, dont sit at home on weekends. Perhaps a walk will bring you a husband, my mother would chide.

Mother, youre dreaming, I would laugh. Yet when I watched husbands greet their wives from the ward windows, tears would well in my eyes. I longed to hold a child in my arms as those women did.

Now, standing by the window, the sky was grey and a wet snow fell. Evening promised another frosty night, the streets would be slick again. I remembered I had to tidy my coat, so I went to the staffroom where the cloakroom and mess were.

The day passed calmly, without emergencies. I decided to visit Emily again in Ward7. She was only eighteen, from a nearby market town, embarrassed to give birth here where everyone knew each other. She still had time to weigh her options, though her fathers signature was still required.

I wondered why Id once avoided such cases. Now Emilys plight struck a chord deep within me, and I found myself poring over her chart more than any other.

When I left the ward, I slipped againthis time onto my knee, unable to rise. A woman behind me tried to help, but she lacked the strength. Suddenly my arms were once more caught under a firm grip, and a widegrinned stranger lifted me.

Thank you, I said.

Im George, he replied, waiting for my name.

Earlier I might have brushed him off, but his repeated kindness left me with no excuse. Perhaps you need a doctors care? I asked.

No, just a sprained knee, he answered. Shall I walk you home?

He was talkative, telling me he worked as a mechanical engineer at the nearby steelworks, and that he raised his younger brother and sister alone. He spoke of his golden girl Lottie, and of a brother who had fallen out with a girl and kept his troubles to himself.

He helped me up the stairs to my flat, then introduced himself to my mother, Lotties mother, who invited him in for tea, which he declined, saying his children awaited him.

Mrs. Beatrice, my mother, sighed, What a fine gentleman, and yet marriedwhat a pity.

I corrected her gently; George was single, merely looking after his siblings.

Soon Ill be alone, youll have no one but me, she warned, wiping the table. Besides my sister Mary, who is two years younger, you have no kin.

I embraced her softly, Then we must go on living. Im exhausted now; I must sleep. Tomorrow Ill be up early, fearing for that one girl.

At six oclock the next morning I called the ward, Hows Emily in Ward7?

Contractions have started; youll still have time for breakfast, the nurse replied.

All morning my thoughts drifted to George, and I imagined him holding Emilys newborn. Have I fallen in love at my age? I wondered, smiling at the memory of his warm grin. I dressed carefully, yearning to see him again that day.

He did not appear, but as I entered the hospitals lobby I spotted two men; one was George, unmistakable, and the other his brother, Henry. I approached.

Good morning, what can I do for you? I asked.

Im here about my sister, George said. Shes only twelve. I hope she wont end up like that foolhes still trying to dodge responsibility. He called her twenty times yesterday. Hell have to marry, I suppose.

Emily is planning to give up her child, Henry interjected.

Grace Evans, get to the delivery ward quickly, the call came from the seventh ward.

Emilys fear tangled with denial; she saw a smug Vicky in her mind, felt the pain, and the anger rose within her.

Where is Grace? someone asked. Shes not coming.

Emilys face softened, Do not be afraid; everything will be alright.

The day ended unexpectedly fast. A junior nurse showed Emily a tiny baby and whisked him away to her department.

Will you name the boy Yuri? Vicky asked Henry.

Why? he replied.

As a thankyou for your care. Emilys fine.

George, watching from the doorway, broke into a smile. First well ask Emily; shes the one who gave birth.

A week later the whole family gathered for the infants christening. Lottie set the table for a celebratory lunch, and Emilys aunt, who had been in the county hospital, stayed to help. George often claimed he would stay with a friend, but everyone saw the bright look on his face whenever he looked at me.

The younger George was presented to Emilys parents, and soon after the christening, Grace acted as godmother, George as godfather. Two months later they were married, their joy brightening the whole household. Lottie, now at peace, looked forward to grandchildren, knowing that life moves at its own pace.