Alone Beneath The Heaven

by Bradshaw, Rita

  ‘How long has she been like this?’ The doctor was less interested in the whys and wherefores than he was in Maggie herself.

  ‘An hour and a half maybe, two at the most. Miss Shawe’- he indicated Florrie with a wave of his hand - ‘left two hours ago.’

  The doctor’s prognosis on Maggie was brief and to the point. ‘She shouldn’t really be moved, but it’s imperative we get her to hospital immediately.’

  And of the Matron, after a cursory examination which nevertheless called on all his professional detachment, ‘Massive stroke. I’m afraid it’s hospital, not the cells, gentlemen.’

  Maggie lay, slipping in and out of unconsciousness, for just over twenty-four hours, and during that time the doctors were unable to ascertain to what degree the shock of her encounter with Matron Cox would affect her recovery.

  Sarah responded immediately Florrie called her with news of the attack, but on reaching her destination, her loyalties were split by Rebecca going into premature labour some three weeks early, on hearing the circumstances of Maggie’s sudden admittance into the hospital.

  Florrie was waiting for her when she reached the Sunderland infirmary, and after a few brief moments at Maggie’s bedside, she left Florrie there and went along to Rebecca’s ward, where she found her friend lying curled up on her side with her back to the room and her head under the pillow, which she had pulled tight across her face.

  ‘Rebecca?’

  ‘Sarah?’ The pillow was tossed aside, and Sarah was amazed when Rebecca pulled herself into a kneeling position on the bed, and, flinging her arms round Sarah’s neck, burst into a torrent of weeping.

  ‘Rebecca, don’t, don’t. Come on now, you mustn’t cry like this, it isn’t good for you or the baby.’

  ‘She’s dead, isn’t she? Maggie’s dead.’

  ‘Of course Maggie isn’t dead, whoever told you such a thing?’

  ‘We have been telling her that Mrs McLevy is as well as can be expected, Miss Brown, but she won’t believe us.’ The nurse who had been sitting by the side of Rebecca’s bed had clearly had more than enough of this latest development. ‘She feels we are merely jollying her along, don’t you, Mrs Dalton? You tell her, Miss Brown. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.’

  ‘You swear Maggie’s all right, Sarah?’ Rebecca leaned back and shook Sarah slightly as she said again, ‘You swear it?’

  ‘I do, I swear it. I’ve just left there and she’s very poorly but not as bad as you were when you were brought in, Rebecca.’

  ‘I thought . . . I thought she . . . Oh!’ The last was a soft grunt as another contraction took hold, cutting off Rebecca’s voice as the pain intensified, and now both Sarah and the nurse, one on each side, pushed her back down into the bed, bringing the coverlet up over her straining body once she was propped against the pillows.

  ‘I couldn’t bear it if Maggie died.’ Rebecca was gasping now, relaxing back as the contraction diminished. ‘She only said to me yesterday that she was looking forward to the baby being born like it was her own grandchild.’

  ‘She’s not going to die, Rebecca, get that into your head.’ She hoped she wasn’t, pray God she wouldn’t.

  ‘You’ll stay with me, Sarah?’ Rebecca’s grip on her hand was making Sarah’s fingers white. ‘You won’t go?’

  ‘Of course I’ll stay, and listen to me. Matron Cox tried to finish Maggie and she failed, right? Maggie’s going to get better and you are going to present her with that grandchild. We’re going to get through this, Rebecca, and you concentrate for now on all the people who love you. Me, Maggie, Florrie . . .’

  ‘All right.’ It was a tiny whisper. ‘And you won’t let them send you out? They’ll try, I know they will, but I want you here. Oh, Sarah.’ Rebecca’s grip tightened, her voice shaking as she said, ‘I’m scared, petrified. Not so much about the birth itself but about what . . . what the baby might be like. I know they think it might have been damaged. No one’s said, but I know all right. They do, don’t they?’

  Sarah didn’t answer this directly, but said instead, her voice soft, ‘Rebecca, you’re strong inside, where it counts, you had to be to get over that awful night when you nearly died. I’ll always remember the sister saying, when you began to come out of the coma, that you were fighting back. And this baby will be like you. I’ve never thought of Willie as having any part of this child; strange that, isn’t it, but it’s true. It’s yours, all yours, and we’re all going to love it - boy or girl, pretty or ugly, we’ll love it, and that’s all that counts. I promised you I would take care of things and I will.’

  ‘But your job and everything . . .’

  ‘I’ve an idea about that, so just trust me. It’ll all work out. All you’ve got to do is think about this baby being born and do the necessary work.’ She grinned encouragingly. ‘And I’m afraid that’s one area where, apart from holding your hand, it’s all down to you.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah.’ Rebecca smiled weakly back, but already her voice was calmer, and when the next contraction took hold she concentrated on her breathing, holding on to Sarah’s hand as Sarah willed her on.

  The baby was born at seven o’clock the next morning after a tiring but not unduly difficult labour, and it was a perfectly formed little girl, with strong limbs and a loud lusty voice that told her exhausted mother all was well.

  Against all hospital etiquette, and mainly due to the fact that Rebecca and Sarah were both adamant Sarah wasn’t going to leave, Sarah was present at the birth. When the midwife cut the cord and, after wrapping the child in a thin blanket, handed her to Sarah while they continued to attend to Rebecca, Sarah stared down at the tiny screwed-up face with wonder. So small, so perfect. Oh thank you, God, thank you.

  She continued to look at Rebecca’s daughter as she wondered how her own mother had reacted to the miracle of new life. Had she searched her baby’s features like this, or, knowing what she intended to do, had she barely glanced at her so she didn’t have to remember what she looked like? How could her mother have gone through what Rebecca had just gone through, and not felt something for her?

  There were tears on Sarah’s eyelashes as she looked at her friend and said, ‘She’s beautiful, she’s so so beautiful, Rebecca,’ and then, as the midwife finished her ministrations, she placed the tiny bundle in Rebecca’s limp arms, keeping hold of the baby in fear that Rebecca, in her exhausted state, might let her roll off the bed. And so it was that the three of them were joined in a moment that would be unforgettable: the child blinking milky blue eyes in the bright lights as it mewed softly and grasped the air with tiny delicate fingers, the two women smiling down at new precious life through their tears.

  ‘Look at her hair, and her eyelashes.’ They continued to gaze entranced as Sarah noted each tiny feature. ‘It’s amazing, just amazing, that only an hour ago she was still inside you. What are you going to call her?’

  ‘Lucy-Ann.’ Rebecca smiled shakily before adding, ‘It was my mam’s name.’

  Sarah willed her face not to change, she didn’t want anything to spoil these moments for Rebecca, and her voice was soft as she said, ‘Was it? You’ve never said. That’s a lovely name.’

  ‘Lucy-Ann Sarah Dalton,’ Rebecca grimaced as she laughed, ‘Bit of a mouthful but she won’t mind when I tell her why.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that.’

  It was the evening of that same day when Sarah made a telephone call to Rodney to let him know she couldn’t make their dinner engagement. She had spent the afternoon sitting at Maggie’s side, Florrie having gone home to rest. The old warrior was in a lot of pain, and the painkillers were making her lightheaded and drowsy, but the doctors had satisfied themselves her injuries, although severe for a woman of Maggie’s age, were not life-threatening. It had been the concussion Maggie had sustained when her head had hit the wooden floor that had worried them the most, but now that was clearing and all the signs were positive.

  When Sarah had told her about little Lucy-Ann she wasn’t su
re if the news had permeated the fog, but then Maggie had smiled, her face lighting up, and her hands going out either side of the bed to Sarah and Florrie, as Florrie had said, ‘A little lassie, Maggie, a little lassie, isn’t that grand? Oh, there’s good days ahead, lass. You just think on about them, eh?’

  Once Florrie had gone home, Sarah had sat quietly without speaking and let Maggie sleep, as she herself had dozed on and off for most of the afternoon.

  Before calling Rodney that evening, Sarah spoke to Lady Harris and informed her employer of Maggie’s condition, and the birth of Rebecca’s child, her voice mirroring her emotions, which were mixed.

  ‘Be resolute, child, be resolute.’ It was the sort of thing Lady Harris liked to say, and Sarah could picture the old suffragette as she had been in her heyday. ‘What will Rebecca do now her child is born?’

  ‘That’s something I need to talk to you about, Lady Harris.’ Sarah took a deep breath as she continued. ‘Until the baby was born we weren’t sure how much circumstances would need to change, but now she is here, and she’s healthy and well, Rebecca can’t go back immediately to the sort of work she did before she got married, but of course she needs a roof over her head and employment nevertheless.’

  ‘Yes?’ It wasn’t particularly encouraging.

  ‘Lady Margaret is getting more and more involved with the business of the estate at Fenwick, and your other properties’ - another deep breath - ‘which means Constance, and William to a certain extent even though he’s now started boarding school as there’ll be the holidays, will need extra supervision from a third party; a nanny, in fact. Rebecca is more than qualified to fill such a role.’

  There was a long pause. ‘You are suggesting that I employ your friend as a nanny for my grandchildren?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ The butterflies in her stomach were rife. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for some time, and I think it would benefit everyone, Lady Harris.’ Well, she had told her to be resolute.

  ‘Do you now.’ Another pause and then, ‘I would need to discuss this in some depth with Lady Margaret, and if she feels the suggestion has some merit, we can perhaps consider it further. That is all I can say for now.’

  It was as much as she’d dared to hope for. Sarah tried to stop her elation from sounding in her voice as she said, ‘Thank you, Lady Harris.’ She felt sure Lady Margaret would be prepared to give her idea a try, it had been Lady Harris she hadn’t been sure about.

  ‘And you will be returning on Saturday?’

  ‘Yes, Lady Harris.’

  ‘I will discuss this with Lady Margaret before then, and we can speak again. Please give my good wishes, and those of Lady Margaret, to both Rebecca and Maggie.’

  ‘Yes, I will, and thank you again, Lady Harris.’

  The telephone call to Rodney proved less satisfactory. It was Richard’s voice that answered her call, his professional tone mellowing when he realized who it was. ‘Sarah, I’m sorry, you’ve just missed him I’m afraid, he’s been called out.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ What on earth was Richard doing visiting Rodney’s house? she asked herself silently. She would have thought that in the circumstances Rodney was the last person his brother would want to be with. Or had Richard gone there to sort out some of the more unpleasant legal connotations arising from the divorce, maybe even to pick a fight?

  Her thoughts made her voice flustered when she said, ‘Do you know when Rodney will be back?’

  ‘Not really.’ There was an awkward pause, and then Richard said, ‘I can get him to phone you when he comes in if you like. I’m staying with him at the moment.’

  ‘Are you?’

  She was too surprised to be tactful, and her voice must have expressed her bewilderment, because Richard answered, ‘Yes, well it isn’t general knowledge at the moment, so I would appreciate you keeping it under your hat, but Vanessa and I have parted. I’ve put the house on the market, I never liked living there from day one, and when Rod suggested I move in with him while I look for something smaller, a flat maybe, I took him up on the offer.’

  She didn’t believe this. Was it one of those modern arrangements she had read about in the papers where everyone was terribly civilized, and adulteress, lover and wronged spouse were the best of friends? No wonder the divorce rate was rocketing.

  In view of the fact that Richard had intimated his marriage breakdown was still something of a secret, she didn’t like to say his wife had been round to see her with all the discretion of a charging bull elephant, but neither could she pretend she hadn’t known either, so her voice was stilted as she said, ‘I’m very sorry, Richard.’

  ‘These things happen.’

  Yes, but the other point of the triangle isn’t usually your own brother. Even if their marriage had been floundering for some time, surely present circumstances made it doubly hard for Richard? ‘You needn’t get Rodney to call me, but I’d be grateful if you could give him a message?’ She gave Richard the bare bones of what had happened, hearing his astonished ‘Good grief!’ as she thought wryly that his own life was only slightly less surprising, and concluding with the promise that she would call Rodney after the weekend when she was sure she would be back in London.

  ‘And you say this woman who attacked your friend can do no more harm?’ Richard asked somewhat bemusedly.

  ‘No, she’s had a major stroke and is completely paralysed. She’s in the same hospital as Maggie and Rebecca, actually.’

  Richard said again, ‘Good grief,’ but there was no disbelief in his tone, just sheer unadulterated amazement.

  Sarah stood for some moments by the pay phone in the hospital as she tried to make head or tail of the conversation with Rodney’s brother, but after a while she shook her head slowly. It was nothing to do with her if they all wanted to behave like that, but she found the whole thing . . . astonishing. It was a weak word for what she was feeling, but she didn’t want to examine the way she felt at the moment, not when she needed to be strong.

  The last sentence or two of her conversation with Richard had clarified something in her head. She was going to see Matron Cox. She didn’t want to, in fact she would have given the world to avoid looking at the monster from her childhood, but somehow, especially after this last outrage, she felt she would never be free of her fear of this woman until she did.

  It took her three attempts before she could force herself to knock on the door of the little room off one of the main wards where Matron Cox had been taken. She had checked with the sister on that ward first, explaining who she was and that she needed to see for herself that this woman could do Maggie no more harm, and after checking with the nurse who was detailed to Matron Cox, the sister had indicated for her to go along to the room.

  Sarah entered slowly, nodding at the nurse who was sitting by the bed, before walking round to the far side and gazing down at the sleeping figure who seemed skeletal under the hospital blankets. ‘How is she?’ She barely recognized the frail, pathetic old woman in front of her as the formidable ogre of former years, but the fact that right up to twenty-four hours ago or so Matron Cox had still had the power and determination to corner Maggie in her own home and attack her in a mad frenzy couldn’t be ignored.

  ‘Very poorly.’ The nurse was uneasy. She had been told most of the facts about the patient under her care, and the police had been in and out of the room all day like yo-yos, but she still found it difficult to reconcile the fiend they were talking about with the helpless old woman who had been like a lamb under her ministrations, and who had lost control of all her bodily functions as well as her speech and movement. ‘It’s only a matter of hours.’

  A matter of hours.

  Sarah looked at what frustrated hate and rage had done to a human spirit and felt a moment’s sadness and regret that a life had been so wasted. Maggie was alive, and she and Florrie would go on being happy in this, the autumn of their years. Rebecca had her child now, a healthy bonny daughter who would be a comfort to her after the misery of
her years with Willie, and a blessing to Maggie and Florrie to boot. And she . . . she would continue to forge her own destiny and one day root out her beginnings, follow that dream to its conclusion along with others. And she would go into nursing. It was what she wanted to do, and she would do it.

  She turned from the bed, nodding her thanks to the nurse and leaving the room with unhurried, measured steps. The Matron couldn’t hurt them any more, she had lost and they had won, but oh . . . She gazed ahead down the long straight hospital corridor as the sense of sadness gripped her again; the waste of it.

  And then her steps quickened as she made her way to Rebecca’s ward to say good night before she left the hospital for the night, and there was already a smile on her lips as she entered the room and saw Rebecca, her face bright, cradling her baby daughter in her arms.