by Lyn Andrews
He nodded; he was fond of Kate. ‘Of course, luv,’ he promised. It was probably just rheumatism, aggravated by the weather. His own mam had had to give up her job because of it but he could see Iris was worried. It would at least set her mind at rest if Kate saw the doctor.
Iris took the opportunity to raise the subject when Kate came home at dinnertime, looking cold and obviously in pain. They both closed for lunch and the pawnbroker’s shop was only at the other end of the street. Iris had insisted that Tom stay and have some soup before setting off for Goodison Park. She’d made it with the vegetables she’d been unable to sell.
‘You look as though a bowl of this soup wouldn’t go amiss, Mrs M.,’ Tom greeted her affably. ‘Mam always says you can’t beat it this weather.’
Kate nodded slowly, sitting down at the table after taking off her coat. ‘She’s right, Tom.’
Iris placed a bowl down in front of her. ‘Mam, you don’t look a bit well and it isn’t just the cold.’
Kate was about to brush aside her daughter’s comments but Tom looked at her with concern.
‘She’s right, Mrs M. I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while now. Why don’t you go and see the doctor? You don’t have to suffer in silence. Mam doesn’t. Our doctor gives her some powders to take; they seem to ease the pain a bit and help with the swelling in her joints.’
‘You see, Mam, it’s not just me who is worried about you. Maybe Dr Mackenzie can give you some of those powders,’ Iris urged, flashing a grateful look at Tom.
‘No sense in doing nothing, is there? Not when it might help,’ Tom added.
Kate still wasn’t happy about the idea. ‘Do you think your mam would let me try one of those powders, Tom? Just to see if it works? There’s no sense in bothering the doctor or paying out good money if it doesn’t.’
Iris wasn’t going to let her off the hook like this. ‘Mam, you can’t do things like that! What is good for one person may not be good for another. Only a doctor can make that decision. You might be doing more harm than good. No, go and see Dr Mackenzie on Monday.’
Kate shook her head. ‘You know I can’t go on Monday, I’m too busy.’
Iris had forgotten that Monday was when everyone brought in their Sunday clothes to pledge until Friday. ‘Then you can go on Tuesday,’ she said firmly. ‘Honestly, Mam, sometimes I just don’t understand you at all! You never thought twice about either calling him in or taking us to the surgery when Charlie, Rose or I were poorly and you know how often that was with our Rose.’
Kate could see she wasn’t going to get any peace until she agreed. She sighed heavily. ‘All right. I’ll go and see him on Tuesday morning if it will keep you happy.’
Iris smiled at Tom, feeling relieved. ‘Good. Now, get that soup down you while it’s still hot.’
Tom winked at her as he got to his feet. ‘I’d best be off or I’ll not get a decent enough speck and end up with a stiff neck.’
Kate managed a smile. ‘It’s a good job Bill’s not here to see an Evertonian sitting at his kitchen table.’
Tom nodded and grinned at her. The rivalry between the fans of Liverpool’s two football teams ran deep.
Iris too smiled. ‘Mam, my da wasn’t that bad about football! It’s only a game, after all.’
Tom adopted an expression of mock horror. ‘Shame on you, Iris Mundy! Wash your mouth out! To some people it means more than their religion.’
Kate laughed. ‘Get out of here with your blasphemous views, Tom Morrissey!’ He was a good lad, she thought. She was sure he would make Iris an equally good husband.
Kate went to see Dr Mackenzie on Tuesday morning as she’d promised. She had to admit that she really wasn’t feeling well. She’d closed the shop a bit early on Saturday and had sat beside the range with the stone hot-water bottle wedged behind her. She’d not slept well that night either and had been very grateful when Iris had offered to cook on Sunday. There had just been the two of them as Charlie was at Florence’s house and Tom wasn’t calling until the afternoon when he and Iris were going to give the greengrocery a fresh coat of limewash.
She’d dozed in the armchair that afternoon, glad of the respite for Monday was always a busy day.
She’d informed the doctor of her symptoms and how long she’d had them, he’d examined her and asked some questions, and then she’d mentioned the powders Mrs Morrissey took for her rheumatism.
‘I do indeed know of them, Mrs Mundy, and they can help, but I’m not at all sure that it is rheumatism,’ he replied, writing something down.
Kate felt a frisson of anxiety run through her. ‘Then what is it, doctor?’
‘I’m not totally sure but I’ve been reading a great deal lately, medical papers and the like, and I know there is a doctor who is similarly interested and so I want you to go to see him for some tests – at the hospital.’
‘Hospital!’ Kate cried in horror. She’d never been in hospital in her life. In fact the only time she had been inside one was when Bill had been knocked down and had died.
‘Now, Mrs Mundy, don’t be alarmed. There’s nothing sinister about these tests. They are a minor procedure, I assure you. They will help to diagnose what’s causing the pain and then once we know we can do something about it.’ He tried to sound reassuring for he knew many of his patients viewed hospitals in the same light as the workhouse. In fact the Royal, where he was sending her, had started out as just such an institution. ‘Modern medicine has moved on a great deal. Any association between a hospital and a workhouse is best forgotten. Now, I want you to rest as much as you can and take aspirin to help relieve the pain. They’ll send for you.’
Despite his words Kate was filled with a terrible foreboding. In her experience hospitals were places which you usually left feet first – in a box.
‘They’re just tests, nothing to get excited about,’ she repeated firmly to herself as she walked home but she decided that she wouldn’t tell either Iris or Charlie about them. Although in her heart she was far from certain that there was nothing to worry about she wasn’t going to have them fretting about her. No, she’d say it was just rheumatism and that the doctor had said it would get better as the weather got warmer and she was to take aspirin tablets for the pain. At least that wasn’t a lie.
Chapter Eighteen
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE rare late February days when pale winter sunlight bathed the grounds of Plas Idris and Rose decided that she would spend her afternoon off sitting in the gardens reading. The air smelled moist and damp but it was much milder than it had been of late and the first spiky leaves of the daffodils were beginning to appear. Under the trees in the pasture there were snowdrops and beneath the yews that bordered the drive purple and yellow crocuses were just appearing. As she walked along the path towards the rose garden, which was protected by the wall of the kitchen garden, she smiled to herself. Spring was definitely on its way.
There was a rustic bench at the far end of the path, which was sheltered and in direct sunlight; she would be warm enough there, she thought, she was well wrapped up. She settled herself on the bench, listening to the birdsong and thinking that next month the bare branches of both the trees and the rose bushes would begin to shows signs of new growth. In summer the roses would be glorious but even now it was a tranquil, pleasant spot.
She became so engrossed in her book that she didn’t see or hear David Rhys-Pritchard approaching. Glancing up she was surprised to see him.
‘Oh, you startled me, sir! I didn’t hear you,’ she cried, jumping to her feet.
‘I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean to intrude. Do sit down. I was tempted out of doors by the mild weather. Is it your afternoon off?’ He manoeuvred the wheelchair around until he was sitting beside her.
‘It is, sir, and I decided that I’d stay here as it’s such a lovely day.’ Reluctantly she closed the book and laid it on the bench beside her.
He smiled at her. ‘You are an avid reader.’
‘I do enjoy reading, sir. Do you read much?�
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‘I used to read a lot but now … now I don’t seem to have the same interest or … concentration,’ he confided. She was quite unlike any of the servants he’d known. She was quiet and seemed a little reserved – or maybe she was just shy. She’d looked so content and at ease sitting here reading, her dark hair tucked underneath a red tam-o’-shanter, she obviously enjoyed being out in the garden and seemed to have settled well, despite being a city girl.
Rose nodded, thinking she understood. It would be hard to concentrate if you were in pain and she knew he frequently was. ‘What kind of books did you used to enjoy, sir?’
‘Oh, travel, adventure, exploration, things like that,’ he replied with a note of bitterness in his voice. Travel and exploration were things that were denied him now. He’d thought that going to war would be the greatest adventure of all but he’d quickly learned that it wasn’t.
Rose hadn’t missed the harsh note and thought that it was no wonder he didn’t want to read such books now. ‘What about murder mysteries, sir? Agatha Christie’s book is becoming very popular although I don’t know if I’d like it and I’m not clever enough to try to work out who would be the guilty person.’
He smiled at her kindly. ‘I wouldn’t say that, Rose.’
There was a brief silence and then he spoke again. ‘Tell me about your life in Liverpool, Rose.’
‘It was very … ordinary, sir.’
‘You have a brother and a sister or so I remember you telling me.’
Rose nodded. ‘Charlie and Iris, they’re both older than me. Our Charlie is a clerk in a shipping office and Iris runs the greengrocery for Mam. Charlie is the eldest, he’s the same age as you, sir.’
He frowned. ‘Did he … fight?’
Rose nodded, not really wanting to talk about the war, feeling it would only bring back memories she was certain he wanted to forget. ‘He doesn’t talk about it though. He was in the King’s Liverpool Regiment.’
‘I was in the Welsh Guards and I can understand why he doesn’t want to speak about it, Rose. It … it was sheer … hell!’
She twisted her hands nervously in her lap. ‘I … know, sir, I’m sorry I said anything …’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Rose. I brought the subject up.’
‘Shall we change it then, sir?’
‘Yes, it’s too lovely a day for such dark thoughts. Don’t you miss Liverpool at all? It’s a fine city and a great port. I would have thought that at times you must find it rather too quiet here.’
Rose brightened. ‘Oh, no! I don’t find that at all. I always loved the river and all the ships and there are many grand buildings in Liverpool but … but there is a lot of unemployment and poverty too. Where … where my Mam lives people are really poor and the houses are terrible, the streets are narrow and crowded and very noisy. I’d much sooner live in the country. I love this house and especially the gardens, even in winter, and it is so good of you to let me borrow books. You have so many, almost as many as they do in the library at Denbigh.’
‘But sadly nothing by Agatha Christie,’ he said, smiling wryly.
‘I wouldn’t mind bringing you one from Denbigh, if you think you’d enjoy it,’ Rose offered, thinking it was the least she could do and if it would help to give him a little enjoyment then she would be glad to. He seemed to be seriously considering it.
‘Would you read it to me, Rose? As I said, I seem to lack the concentration these days.’
She was very taken aback and became flustered. ‘Me, sir? I … I don’t know if I could. I mean, my reading might not be … well …’
‘You could try. It might take my mind off … things and help to pass the hours. They can be long and rather … bleak.’
Slowly she nodded. She felt sorry for him and it was little enough to ask ‘I … I’ll try, sir.’
‘Thank you. Don’t worry about making a special trip into the library in Denbigh, Livvie often goes in in the car. I’ll ask her to get one of Mrs Christie’s novels from the bookshop.’
Rose nodded. It looked as though she was committed now. She didn’t know what else to say and felt a little relieved when he said he mustn’t take up any more of her free time and made his way slowly back down the path towards the house. As he reached the stone archway she caught sight of Olivia Rhys-Pritchard coming towards him and hoped she wasn’t coming looking for her. But Miss Olivia stopped and seemed to be in conversation with her brother, so Rose picked up her book again.
‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Dai,’ Olivia informed her brother with some irritation.
‘I decided to take advantage of the mild weather. I’ve been talking to Rose,’ he said as she took the chair handles and began to push him back towards the house. That irritated him for he was quite capable now of propelling himself and he valued what little independence he still had. In fact he had started to make some enquiries about a motorised chair, a new invention that Mr Sandford, his consultant, had mentioned on his last visit. It would make life easier and would tire him less.
‘Of course, it’s her afternoon off although she usually goes into the village,’ Olivia replied offhandedly. She had more serious matters on her mind.
‘Today, like me, she is enjoying the weather. Or I was. What is so urgent that you came looking for me, Livvie?’
‘Ellie is what is so urgent,’ Olivia replied grimly.
David sighed. ‘What’s she neglected to do now?’
‘It’s what she has done that’s the problem. I wanted to speak to you alone, away from the house and any possibility of … eavesdropping.’
‘Then why don’t we sit on the terrace?’ he suggested, wondering what it was that his slightly woolly-minded sister had done now. Elinore resisted all Olivia’s attempts to ‘organise’ her, she had always been what he termed a ‘free spirit’ and since their parents’ death had become more so.
Olivia sat down on one of the stone benches set at the edge of the wide paved terrace. ‘She appears to have embarked upon an unwise and quite unacceptable liaison. I only found out about it because I came upon her reading a letter aloud to herself and with obvious pleasure. When I asked her who it was from she said, “My very dear friend Ernest Williams.”’
‘And who is Ernest Williams?’ David asked curiously.
‘Apparently he’s some kind of farmer over near Pentrefoelas. She met him last year at the Denbigh Show and, unbeknown to me, they’ve been corresponding ever since.’ Olivia was outraged that this had been going on under her very nose and she’d only just learned of it.
David frowned. He had a duty of responsibility towards both his sisters. ‘Have you met him?’
‘Of course not – well, I may have done at the show, but I don’t remember. It’s not as though he moves within the same circles as us.’
‘And she called him her “friend”?’ David persisted.
‘Her “very dear friend”. The Lord above only knows what kind of letters they’ve been exchanging, Dai!’
‘I doubt she would say anything inappropriate. Do you know anything about him?’
Olivia frowned. ‘Not really. Just that he has a large farm, which she says he owns – not rents – and employs people and that he’s in his forties. Dai, she’s far too young and impressionable …’
David sighed heavily. Elinore wasn’t that young, he thought. ‘Well, Livvie, I suggest we ask him over for dinner. At least that way we can see what kind of a man he is.’
‘I don’t think we should encourage him at all,’ Olivia said firmly.
At least if we meet him, Livvie, we can judge just how … involved Ellie is. She’s not a child, you know.’
Olivia was shaking her head. ‘I don’t know about that, Dai, you know what she’s like. She’s very scatterbrained at times and can be stubborn and personally I think he’s far too old.’
‘I’ll tell her to write and ask him over for lunch next Sunday,’ he said firmly. ‘Lunch would suit me better than dinner and I can’t r
emember the last time we entertained.’
Olivia pursed her lips. She did not approve of inviting this stranger to lunch and he certainly wasn’t of a class she considered suitable as a friend for her sister. She didn’t want to entertain him at all and it would mean extra work for the servants. She shivered for the sun was now falling lower in the sky and it was turning chilly. ‘I think we’d both better go indoors now. Neither of us wants to catch a chill.’
David assented but as they reached the French doors that led into his drawing room he stopped. ‘Livvie, could you do something for me? Next time you go into Denbigh, would you call into Parry’s and purchase one of Agatha Christie’s crime novels, please?’
Olivia looked at him curiously. He’d never expressed any desire to read since he’d returned home.
‘Rose informed me Mrs Christie is becoming very popular and she’s promised to read to me. My concentration just isn’t up to it these days,’ he said as he propelled himself into the room.
Olivia stood staring after him, wondering had everyone suddenly gone mad. First Ellie dropping the bombshell of her clandestine friendship with this Mr Williams and now Dai telling her that Rose – of all people! – was going to read a crime novel to him. Kate was very apprehensive when she next visited Dr Mackenzie after having had the required tests.
‘Do they say what’s the matter with me?’ she asked tentatively as he studied the notes on his desk.
‘They at least concur with me. Dr Redding is an eminent man in his field. He’s had an interest in this condition for years, stemming from the fact that his own mother suffered from it. It has a long and complicated name but in lay terms it means that your bones are becoming very brittle and it’s possible that one of the small vertebrae – bones – in your back has a hairline fracture, which would account for the considerable and continuing pain.’
Kate digested this is silence. It sounded ominous.
‘I’m afraid it is something to do with your age and probably started some time ago. In the early stages there are no definite symptoms, so you wouldn’t be aware you are suffering from it. Later there might be pain and tenderness in the bones and the likelihood of serious fractures.’
