by Pat Bourke
A sudden choking sound erupted in the back hall. Meredith tugged her mask up as she rushed to Mrs. Butters’ side. She tried to lean the cook forward while at the same time pounding her on the back to help clear her lungs. Mrs. Butters gagged and choked and sputtered.
Maggie hovered uncertainly in the doorway from the kitchen, her hand over her mouth. She flinched and turned her face away when Mrs. Butters began spewing wads of greenish-yellow phlegm onto the blanket that covered her. When the spasm eased, Mrs. Butters’ face was deep purple and wet with sweat.
Meredith helped Mrs. Butters lie back against the pillows propped on the settee. She fished a cloth out of the basin of water on the floor and wiped Mrs. Butters’ face, then used it to gather up the mess on the blanket.
“Is it always that bad?” Maggie’s voice was shaky as she followed Meredith into the kitchen.
Meredith was too angry to answer. Mrs. Butters could have died right there and Maggie would have stood by and watched like some helpless princess.
“Do you think she’ll get better?” Maggie asked.
Meredith tossed the wadded-up cloth and its contents into the firebox of the range where it hissed and sent up clouds of steam. Meredith watched through the firebox opening until the edge of the cloth blackened and a small yellow flame licked along the edge.
“I don’t know,” she replied, closing the firebox door. There was no point in being angry at Maggie. It certainly wouldn’t change anything. “I hope so.”
“I know Parker’s not as sick as Mrs. Butters,” Maggie said, “but what happens if he gets like that—or worse?”
Meredith looked up and studied the other girl’s anxious face. “We’ll just do the best we can,” she said, “and then pray that it’s enough.”
Later that evening, Meredith read the newspaper with mounting horror: half the nursing staff of the Grace Hospital had come down with the Spanish Flu. The Toronto Western Hospital and St. Michaels’ Hospital were full and had stopped accepting patients. City workers had removed the carpets, sterilized the beds, and disinfected the mattresses in two former hotels to turn them into makeshift hospitals. The newspaper said readers shouldn’t worry if they were taking precautions, but Parker had been taking precautions, and he’d sickened in spite of them.
“Can you come upstairs?”
Meredith looked up from the paper to see Harry Waterton standing at the bottom of the back stairs, shifting from one foot to the other. She glanced at the kitchen clock.
“It’s after eight,” she said, crossing the kitchen to stand beside him. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“Jack said I had to get you.”
“What was Mr. Jack doing in your room?” Where was Maggie? Jack should have been upstairs with Parker.
“I wanted him to play a game with me, but—” Harry leaned closer, “he threw up. And then he told me to get you.”
“Oh, no!” Meredith grabbed Harry’s hand and started up the stairs. She told herself it couldn’t be the Spanish Flu: Jack was probably overtired, they all were, or maybe the ham had gone off.
But when she reached Harry’s room, she found Jack sprawled in the rocking chair beside Harry’s bed. His mask was bunched around his neck, streaked with vomit.
Harry held his nose. “It stinks in here.”
Meredith tugged her mask up as Jack’s eyes turned to her.
“Sorry,” he whispered, but Meredith wasn’t in the mood for apologies. Now he’d have to be sponged and watched like the others.
And where was Maggie? Not here with her sick brother, and not up with Parker either, Meredith was certain. She stalked out of the room and down the hall to Maggie’s bedroom, Harry at her heels. She knocked on the closed door but didn’t wait for an answer before pushing it open.
Maggie Waterton was sitting at the dressing table, holding a set of long, sparkly earrings on either side of her face, admiring herself in the mirror. She startled at the intrusion and got quickly to her feet. “You can’t just barge in here like that!” she exclaimed.
For a moment, Meredith was too angry to speak. “Your brother’s sick!” Meredith declared. “I need your help.”
“What are you talking about? Harry’s fine,” Maggie said. “See for yourself. He’s standing behind you.”
“No, not him. It’s—”
“Jack? He can’t be.”
When Meredith didn’t answer, the earrings dropped from Maggie’s hand. Then Maggie rushed past her and ran down the hall.
Chapter 23
“We’ll have to take him to the hospital,” Maggie announced a few moments later, scowling at Meredith as if Jack being sick was something Meredith had cooked up to annoy her.
“No,” Jack mumbled. “Father…better here.”
Maggie turned on him, her hands on her hips. “You don’t get a say. I’m in charge now.”
“Then can we take Mrs. Butters, too?” Meredith asked eagerly. “She’s much sicker than—” she paused, realizing Maggie might not see the situation the way she did. “She’s just so sick,” she amended, hoping the memory of Mrs. Butters struggling to breathe would change Maggie’s mind.
“Oh, all right,” Maggie said to Meredith’s relief. “Parker, too, I suppose. But we’ll take Jack first. I’m going to telephone the hospital and tell them to send Forrest immediately. And I’m going to keep on phoning until they send him.”
She turned toward the door, but Harry blocked her way. “Move, Harry.”
“Is Papa coming home?” Harry looked up at his sister.
“I’m going to telephone him now.” Maggie tried hustling him aside, but he was determined to stay put.
“Can I talk to him?”
“No, you can’t! This is serious, Harry.” Maggie sidled past him into the hallway.
Harry’s face crumpled. “I hate you!” he wailed. “I want Papa!”
Meredith bent down and tried to take Harry’s hands, but he snatched them out of her grasp. He stiffened when she put her arm around him, but after a moment he let himself relax into her side.
“Hush now, Mr. Harry,” Meredith said. “It’s serious, just as she said, but you’re a brave boy, and I’m going to tell your father that when he comes home.”
Harry drew away from her and looked into her eyes. “Really?”
“Really, truly,” Meredith said. “But right now I need your help.”
“I’m a good helper!”
“I know you are. I need you to stay with your brother while your sister and I work out what to do. Can you do that?”
Harry nodded.
“Good boy. Come and find me if he gets sick again or starts coughing.” She gave him a hug and then sped along the hall toward the front stairs.
“Miss Margaret,” she called over the railing. She could see Maggie sitting in the telephone alcove near the front door. “Wait!”
“You’re right about taking them to the hospital,” Meredith said, panting, when she reached the alcove. Maggie was searching through the pages of the small, leather-bound book that sat on the shelf beside the telephone. “But what if you can’t get through to someone who will listen? The nurses wouldn’t help Parker or your brother.”
Maggie frowned. “Then I’ll telephone for a cab,” she said. “That’s what Mama used to do when Forrest was out.”
“A cab mightn’t come,” Meredith stepped gingerly through the minefield of Maggie’s words, “not if you tell them it’s to take someone to the hospital. And even if you don’t tell them, as soon as the driver sees your brother, he’ll know.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Maggie sighed. “Then I’ll tell the hospital it’s an emergency—it is one now—and that I must speak to my father right away.” She looked down at the little book. “Here it is: Toronto City Hospital.”
The Waterton’s telephone looked like a tall black candlestick with a bell-shaped earpiece hanging from a hook on the side. In Port Stuart, Meredith had only ever seen the wooden box type that hung on the wall. She wondered how you alerted the operator on this one, since there was no crank.
Maggie steadied the base of the telephone with one hand. She lifted the earpiece with the other and then put it to her ear.
“It’s too bad Jack doesn’t share a room with Harry,” she said as she jiggled the hook up and down. “Two in one room would be easier.”
“Miss Margaret, that’s brilliant!”
Maggie lowered the earpiece. “What’s brilliant?”
“Two in one room!”
“You mean Jack and Harry?”
“Yes!” Meredith said, eagerly. “And we could put Parker and Mrs. Butters in there, too, if we can manage the stairs. Then we could keep an eye on everyone at once, and take proper turns with nursing and sleeping and—”
“We can’t put Mrs. Butters and Parker in with my brothers!” Maggie looked as scandalized as if Meredith had suggested they go on holiday together.
“But—”
“But I suppose we could move Jack’s mattress into Harry’s room,” Maggie said slowly, nodding. “Then we wouldn’t have to move Jack. And I could stay with them both.”
“But there’d still be Mrs. Butters downstairs and Parker upstairs,” Meredith said. Maggie had seen how sick Mrs. Butters was. Maggie had even wondered what they’d do if Parker got sicker. Surely she understood how hard it would be to run up and down stairs all night?
Maggie shrugged. “We’ll each have two. That’s fair.”
Meredith grabbed at another idea. “Could we move Parker downstairs, then?”
“You can move him if you like,” Maggie said. “I’m not going up there ever again.” She shuddered.
Meredith gritted her teeth. “I can’t move him on my own,” she said. “You know I can’t.”
Maggie turned back to the telephone. “We shouldn’t be wasting time talking. I’m going to tell the hospital to send Forrest home. You start moving Jack’s mattress.” She put the earpiece in position without another glance at Meredith.
“Operator?” Maggie said loudly into the mouthpiece as she jiggled the hook. “Hello?”
Meredith trudged back up the stairs. Why did Jack have to go and get sick? It wasn’t his fault, of course, but now he was one more worry when they had been stretched so thin already.
And Maggie wasn’t going to listen to her. Meredith wondered whether Maggie would be any help at all.
Chapter 24
When Meredith reached Harry’s room, she found the little boy arranging his lead soldiers into two lines on the floor beside his bed. “I stayed right here like you told me to,” he said, puffing out his chest.
“You’re a good helper,” Meredith replied.
Jack appeared to be sleeping. She gently untied the soiled mask from around his neck and then used a towel she’d taken from the linen closet to remove the mess from his sweater. Being so close to him made her clumsy, however, and she dropped the towel onto his lap. As she snatched it up again, his eyes flew open much too close to hers. She swiped at the mess that had fallen on the floor, her face burning. She could feel Jack’s eyes following her as she crossed the room.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to reassure both boys. She chucked the soiled towel onto the floor in the bathroom as she passed by. She’d put it in the laundry hamper later.
The walls of Jack’s bedroom were papered with pictures of airplanes, their jaunty pilots wearing leather jackets and goggles. On a tall oak dresser, the biplane that Harry had snatched the day she arrived sat among a jumble of coins, playing cards, and wadded-up bits of paper. Other airplane models swung suspended from the ceiling. Meredith was certain Jack must have spent hours carefully cutting and neatly gluing the tiny pieces of wood.
His bed, however, looked as if a giant spoon had stirred the covers together. Meredith stripped its navy coverlet and white sheets, and bundled them onto the window seat.
“Why are you doing that?” Harry had followed her down the hall, a lead soldier in each fist.
“Oh, Mr. Harry! You need to stay with your brother.”
“Maggie’s there. I don’t want her. I came to find you. Why are you doing that?”
“We’re going to move the mattress so your brother can sleep in your room.”
“Truly? In my room?” Harry asked, bouncing on his toes. “Why?”
“That way we can keep an eye on you both more easily.”
“You’ll have to be careful with that mattress,” Maggie said crossly, appearing behind Harry. “Watch you don’t hit the lamp.”
“Maggie, Jack’s going to sleep in my room!” Harry announced, pulling at Maggie’s sleeve.
“You’re in the way, Harry,” Maggie said, shoving him aside.
“Ow!” Harry clutched his shoulder, and sudden tears threatened to spill over.
“You don’t have to be so rough with him!” Meredith exclaimed, her heart beating double-time even though she had every right to stand up to Maggie. “He’s only little, for heaven’s sake, and he’s still not feeling well.”
Maggie opened her mouth, and then closed it again.
“His father’s not here,” Meredith went on, indignant on Harry’s behalf, “and all he’s got is you and your brother. Think about him for a minute!”
“You’re not to talk to me…” Maggie began, but then she looked away. After a moment, she turned toward Harry. “Sorry,” she said.
Harry edged away from his sister. “I wasn’t in the way.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Harry looked at her solemnly, but he moved toward Meredith.
“Did you reach the doctor?” Meredith asked, hardly daring to believe Maggie might have succeeded where Parker and Jack had failed.
Maggie shook her head. “I couldn’t get through to an operator. I’ll try again later.”
Meredith surveyed the path to the door. “If you take that side, Miss Margaret, we can slide the mattress onto the floor.”
“You’re not expecting me to help move that mattress?”
“I can’t do it on my own.” Meredith looked steadily at the other girl.
“You can’t do anything on your own, according to you,” Maggie said. “You haven’t even tried.”
Meredith wanted to grab Maggie’s arm and pinch it hard—she’d sure do that on her own—but it wouldn’t get the mattress moved. She tried to keep her voice even. “I need your help with it, Miss Margaret.”
“I can help!” Harry exclaimed from beside her.
Maggie ignored him. She narrowed her eyes at Meredith.
“Can’t we just work together?” Meredith asked. She didn’t want to beg, but she needed Maggie’s help.
“I can work together.” Harry hopped up and down beside Meredith. “I’m strong.”
Maggie turned on him. “Don’t be silly—” she began sharply, then she glanced at Meredith and sighed. “That’s good, Harry. We can use your help.” She turned to Meredith. “I’ll pull, you push. Harry, you come beside me.”
Harry scrambled into place and grabbed hold of the corded edge of the mattress. He and Maggie pulled, Meredith pushed, and the mattress slid several inches toward Maggie and Harry.
“On three this time.” Maggie braced her foot against the bed frame and counted. This time the mattress slid so far that she and Harry had to hop backward. Harry toppled onto the floor, laughing.
On the next try, the mattress whumped onto the floor. Harry cheered and even Maggie looked pleased.
Between them, the girls wrestled the floppy mattress onto its side and out the door. Harry scampered ahead as it lurche
d along the thick carpet, Maggie issuing instructions that Meredith mostly ignored.
It was like herding a large and balky cow, and Meredith was sweating by the time they propped the mattress against the doorframe of Harry’s room to catch their breath. She pushed the curls that had come loose behind her ear.
Jack seemed to be asleep, but the rank smell in his room told them he’d been sick again. Meredith could see fresh vomit on his sweater. She hoped Mrs. Butters was all right downstairs. She’d need to check on her soon. Parker, too. What a mess it all was!
“Ready?” Maggie said. “We’ll put it over by the window.”
After they dragged the mattress into the room, Meredith stumbled over a small hooked rug at the foot of the bed and the edge of the mattress slipped out of her grasp. She figured they’d left enough space to move around the mattress, so she let it fall.
Maggie staggered as the weight of the mattress shifted toward her. “Over by the window, I said.”
“It’s far enough.”
“I said put it by the window!”
“And I said it’s far enough!” Meredith replied. Maggie didn’t have to have it all her own way all the time.
“Oh, all right!” Maggie let the mattress drop onto the floor.
Chapter 25
All that remained was to move Jack onto the mattress.
“It will take both of us to get him there,” Meredith said.
“But he’s covered in…” Maggie screwed up her face. “I can’t.”
Meredith shoved her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Then I’m going downstairs. Mrs. Butters has been alone too long.”
“You can’t!” Maggie’s anxious voice followed Meredith as she left the bedroom. “I’m in charge,” Maggie said, running to catch up with Meredith in the hallway. “You have to do what I say. You can’t just leave him there like that.”
