Ambitious Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘Right, that’s the plan, then. You both come round about half past ten, and I’ll make sure we’re ready.’

  When Fern appeared next morning she was on her own and she explained that she wasn’t going to be able to go out for the day because her mother wasn’t at all well.

  ‘I heard what you said, cariad, but what’s the matter with her?’ Alwyn asked as she followed Glanmor to the door.

  ‘I don’t know, she says she aches all over and she’s so cold that she can’t stop shivering, yet her forehead is burning hot. She insisted I come and let you know how sorry she is that we can’t come. I’ve left her huddled under the bedclothes trying to get warm.’

  ‘Well, you hurry back home, cariad, and make her a hot drink.’ Alwyn advised.

  ‘I asked Bertha to listen for her in case she called out and Bertha said she thought it might be the three-day flu that Mam’s got,’ Fern went on worriedly.

  ‘Oh, don’t say that,’ Alwyn gasped. ‘I thought the epidemic was supposed to be over.’

  ‘Bryson said there’s a second wave of it. This time it only lasts three days, but it is even worse.’

  ‘It sounds to me, from the state your mother’s in, as though Bertha might be right.’ Alwyn agreed, ‘so I certainly think you should call a doctor.’

  ‘Would you like me to go for the doctor so that you can get back home?’ Glanmor suggested.

  The doctor confirmed their worst fears; it was the flu and there was very little he could do for Wynne. Fern sat up with her all night, repeatedly bathing her face and forehead and spooning tepid water on to her parched lips.

  By next morning Wynne was delirious and Fern was so frightened that she even asked her uncle to come and see if there was anything he could do to help.

  ‘You stay well away from that room,’ Bertha told him, wagging her forefinger at him in warning. ‘The last thing we want is for one of us catching the flu, and if you go anywhere near either of them then the chances are we will.’

  Bryson nodded in agreement. ‘It seems to be very easy to catch and there’s no cure, so there’s no point in taking silly risks,’ he agreed.

  ‘I don’t want you coming down here into my kitchen either,’ Bertha told Fern. ‘I’ll put some food and stuff out on the stairs for you and you can take it back upstairs to your own room and eat it. Like I’ve said, if you get too near to one of us, then we might end up with the flu so make sure you stay well away from us.’

  Fern felt too worried about leaving her mother alone to stand there and argue with them or even to tell them how heartless she thought they both were.

  When she went back into the bedroom her mother didn’t seem to be aware of anything and she didn’t respond at all when she spoke to her or touched her. She didn’t even appear to be breathing.

  In desperation, Fern called down to Bryson and asked him if he would go and fetch the doctor again.

  ‘Duw anwyl, girl, there’s no point in wasting money doing that again. We’ve already told you there’s no cure for this flu.’

  ‘Perhaps it isn’t flu,’ Fern screamed back at him. ‘She’s not moving at all and she is having difficulty in breathing. She needs a doctor,’ she sobbed.

  Despite Bertha’s loud protest that he wasn’t to go up there, Bryson pushed her to one side and bounded up the stairs. He took a long hard look at Wynne and shook his head. ‘I think she’s dead, cariad,’ he said in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘No, she’s not . . . of course she’s not,’ Fern sobbed.

  ‘I’ll fetch the doctor,’ he muttered, elbowing her to one side and taking the stairs two at a time.

  Fern insisted on staying at her mother’s side, stroking her hand and begging her to wake up, oblivious of the fact that there was no response from Wynne.

  When the doctor arrived a few minutes later, he ordered them to send for an ambulance.

  ‘She’s not dead,’ he told Fern, ‘but she needs to be in hospital if she is to pull through.’

  When the ambulance arrived Fern begged them to let her go with her mother.

  ‘There’s nothing at all you can do to help so it would be much better if you stayed here away from it all,’ one of the ambulance men told her gruffly.

  When she insisted, they finally agreed to let her ride in the ambulance but the moment they reached the Royal Infirmary in Newport Road her mother was whisked away to an isolation ward. They refused to let Fern see her and she was told that it was pointless to wait, so she might as well go home.

  Wearily she made her way back to Tiger Bay, not to Angelina Street, but to see if either Alwyn or Glanmor were at home.

  Alwyn was there and she was shocked when she saw how pale Fern looked.

  ‘You come and sit down while I make you a cup of tea and find you something to eat. We don’t want you going down with the flu as well and you look absolutely all in, my lovely.’

  Alwyn listened in sympathetic silence as Fern related all that had happened at the hospital and she immediately offered to go back there with her.

  ‘Come on, we’ll both come with you; we might be able to find out if there’s any news and be able to persuade them to let you see her.’

  When they reached the infirmary they were told to wait and it was almost an hour before a sister in a dark blue uniform came to speak to them.

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs Wynne Jenkins died shortly after she was admitted,’ she informed them. ‘I need details for my records, so I’d like you to answer a few questions before you leave.’

  Chapter Ten

  Fern was distraught and at first refused to believe that her mother was dead. She was shaking so much that Glanmor insisted that she must sit down and he would get her a drink of water.

  ‘I don’t want a drink of water, I want my mam,’ she sobbed, clinging to him as if he was a lifeline.

  He hugged her close, stroking her hair back from her tear-stained face as he tried to comfort her. Then he gently released her and sat her down on a bench by the wall. Patting her shoulder he went to get her a glass of water.

  When he returned he handed her two small white pills. ‘Take these, the sister said they will make you feel better,’ he told her.

  ‘Nothing will make me feel any better,’ she sniffed.

  Glanmor said nothing. He waited until she had taken the pills and her harsh sobs had eased. Placing a finger beneath her chin he clumsily wiped away her tears.

  ‘There, that’s better now, isn’t it? Do you want to sit still for a bit and give those pills a chance to do their work or would you like me to take you home right now?’

  Fern hesitated, looking at him in wide-eyed disbelief. ‘You mean go home and leave my mam here?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s what we are going to have to do, cariad,’ he said sadly.

  ‘We can’t. Not until I’ve seen her and said goodbye. I’m not even sure that she’s dead yet.’

  ‘I don’t think they will let you see her,’ Glanmor told her.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘If it was flu, then there’s the chance that you might catch it,’ Glanmor explained.

  ‘I don’t care about that, I want to see her,’ Fern insisted.

  When they approached the reception desk and asked if it was possible, the woman shook her head. ‘That’s out of the question,’ she said sharply.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Fern persisted. ‘I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to her.’

  The woman frowned. ‘What did you say her name was?’

  ‘Jenkins; Wynne Jenkins,’ Glanmor told her.

  The woman scanned the admissions list and then looked up in disbelief. ‘You mean the woman who was admitted with influenza and who has since died?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes, that’s my mam,’ Fern said quickly.

  ‘No, you most certainly can’t see her. Her body will have been taken to an isolation bay in the morgue by now and no one at all is allowed to go near it.’

  ‘How do I know she is dead, if I ca
n’t see her body?’ Fern sniffed miserably.

  ‘I’m sorry, my lovely,’ the woman explained in a voice full of compassion, ‘but this flu is a killer. We were all hoping that the epidemic was over but this new lot, the three-day flu, as they’re calling it, is so deadly that those who are brought in here suffering from it are isolated right away. We wouldn’t want to take the risk of you catching it now, would we?’ she added gently. Looking directly at Glanmor she advised, ‘Take her on home. Those pills will help her to sleep and things may seem better when she wakes up tomorrow.’

  Glanmor nodded and, putting an arm round Fern’s shoulders, led her towards the door.

  For the next few days Fern remained in a daze as though unable to accept what had happened. Glanmor went to see Maria and let her know what had happened and he and Alwyn did what they could to help Fern. Between them they made arrangements for the funeral. Bertha and Bryson gave no help at all; the only thing that Bertha seemed to be concerned about was whether or not Fern would be able to afford the rent now that she had only her own wages to rely on.

  Fern ignored her constant carping.

  ‘Are you deaf or daft?’ Bertha shouted. She stood with her arms akimbo, her sullen face angry. ‘You’re not listening to a word I say. If you can’t afford to pay the rent, then you’d better find somewhere else to live. Do you understand?’ she added in a threatening tone.

  ‘I’ve heard what you are saying,’ Fern said quietly. She looked at her uncle. ‘I’ve no money this week, but I’ll be back on the stall next week, so I will pay back what I owe you as soon as I can.’

  He said nothing, merely nodding with a sly grin on his face as if he knew she was heading for trouble.

  The funeral was a few days later as the hospital were anxious for the burial to occur as soon as possible for fear of infection causing further outbreaks. The epidemic was subsiding but those who went down with it now seemed to develop three days of severe illness and very few of them survived.

  Fern returned to the Hayes the day after the funeral. Maria was surprised to see her there but when she suggested that Fern might like to have a few days off to get over things, Fern was adamant that she was better off at work than staying at home.

  ‘No! My moping around won’t bring my mam back,’ she said sadly, ‘so I may as well be here working on the stall and thinking about other things.’

  ‘True enough, my lovely,’ Maria sighed. ‘It’s hard for a young girl like you to be left all alone in the world, though.’

  ‘I’ve got you,’ Fern said and her words brought a slow smile to the older woman’s face.

  ‘Yes, I’ll do what I can for you, so if you’ve any problems, then tell me,’ she added as she sorted out some of the flowers and rearranged them on the stall. ‘You’ve got Glanmor as well,’ she added quietly. ‘He’s been terribly worried about you, you know.’

  ‘He’s been a wonderful help.’ Fern sighed. ‘He must think I’m a right misery.’

  ‘No, cariad, young though he is, I’m sure he understands what you are going through.’

  ‘Has he lost his father?’ Fern asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

  Maria’s lips tightened. She snipped the ends off a bunch of roses before she answered. ‘Yes, I suppose you could say that,’ she agreed.

  Fern waited for her to explain but when it was obvious she had no intention of doing so, she sighed and picked up the off-cuts that were strewn on the stall from Maria’s clippings and put them into the waste bin that they kept under the counter and which was half full of leaves and dead flowers.

  ‘I’ll take these and empty them, shall I?’ It was more a statement than a question and, without waiting for a reply, she picked up the refuse bag, tied the opening with a piece of twine, and took it across to the large receptacle on the far side of the market that was kept there for rubbish.

  As she returned several stallholders stopped her and said a few kindly words and by the time she was back at her own stall she felt calm and comforted.

  Her day was reasonably busy so she had little time for her thoughts and by the time Glanmor came to walk her home that night, she was much more her old self.

  ‘I’m glad I came to work,’ she told him as they walked down Bute Street together. ‘People have been so kind and understanding, so very different from Bertha and Uncle Bryson.’

  ‘Oh, what have those two been saying? Not something that’s upset you, I hope,’ he said sharply, his handsome face darkening.

  ‘Not really. Bertha has been ranting on about whether or not I’m going to be able to afford the rent for my room.’

  ‘Can you?’ He shot her a sideways glance.

  ‘I think so, if I am very careful. I told Uncle Bryson that I wouldn’t be able to pay for last week but that I’d make it up as soon as I could.’

  ‘And was that all right?’

  ‘He didn’t say anything, so I suppose he accepted it.’

  ‘Surely, under the circumstances he could have let you off paying for a week,’ he muttered angrily.

  ‘I think he might have done so but Bertha was listening.’

  ‘Well, if you have any trouble with them about it let me know,’ Glanmor told her as they reached the corner of Angelina Street and stopped to say goodbye. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come round and have a meal with us tonight?’

  ‘It’s kind of you to suggest it, Glanmor, but your mam fed me all last week so it’s time I tried to get back to normal. Going to work today was a good start.’

  ‘You only eat like a bird.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t think Mam would mind for one minute.’

  Fern found that the nights were the worst. Having to sleep on her own when she’d become used to having her mother alongside her was so lonely. It made her realise afresh that her mam was gone and that she would never ever be there again.

  They’d enjoyed their nightly chats, going over what had happened to them during the day, telling each other anecdotes about what had happened while they’d been apart.

  It was the time, too, when they planned what they were going to do in the future. Now that Fern had started work their hopes had soared. By scrimping and saving they were both optimistic that it wouldn’t be very long before they could afford their own place.

  Fern wondered where her mother had hidden their savings. The room was so small that there weren’t very many places to look, but so far she still hadn’t managed to find them.

  It did cross her mind that perhaps either Bertha or Bryson had already done so. There was no way of locking the door when she went out, so either of them could have come in at any time and searched the room if they wished to do so.

  On the Saturday evening when she came home from work, Bryson was waiting in her room for the rent and money for her keep.

  ‘I was hoping that you might say it was less than ten shillings because you have only me to feed now,’ she told him boldly, her dark eyes meeting his.

  ‘Growing up to be a proper little businesswoman, aren’t you?’ he jested. ‘Not only pretty but also hard headed as well.’

  When she didn’t answer he went on, ‘I suppose you’d also like me to say never mind about the back money you owe,’ he said with a broad smirk on his face.

  She waited in silence, not knowing what to say. Of course she wanted him to let her off the rent she owed, but his manner frightened her and she had a feeling that he was going to demand something in return.

  ‘Well, perhaps we could do that and start afresh from now and even make it a bit less each week – that is, if you were prepared to pay part of it in kind,’ he added his dark eyes glittering.

  ‘In kind?’ She frowned. ‘I don’t understand what you mean by that. If you are saying that you want me to help with the housework, well, I already wash up after we’ve had our evening meal and by the number of dirty dishes there are, I think Bertha must store them up all day,’ she added.

  ‘What I had in mind has nothing to do with Bertha or the washing-up,’ he
said quickly. His hand reached out and stroked her cheek. ‘I mean in other ways, cariad.’

  She pulled back and slapped his hand away sharply. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I think you do.’ His voice had softened and his hand went out again, this time not to touch her face but to stroke from her shoulder down her back to her waist.

  As she made to move away he grabbed hold of her, pulling her very close. Her heart was thudding with fear as his mouth came down on hers, stifling her scream.

  Savagely he began tearing at the front of her dress and fondling her breasts. As she struggled and fought to get away he pushed her backwards, kicked the door shut and then forced her backwards on to the bed.

  As his hand moved up under her skirt she brought her knee up sharply, catching him unawares. With a raucous groan he doubled up in agony. She seized the moment to break free and was out of the room and down the stairs before he could recover from the pain she’d inflicted on him.

  Without a coat, her hair flying, and oblivious that her dress was torn right down the front, she ran as fast as she could to find refuge at Glanmor and Alwyn’s house.

  She was so breathless when she got there that she couldn’t speak as she broke into the room where they were having their evening meal. Glanmor pushed back his chair and caught her as she collapsed against him.

  ‘What’s happened, cariad? Look at the state you are in! Who was it that attacked you?’ he asked in a strained voice.

  By now her sobs and tears muffled what she was trying to say. Alwyn poured her out a cup of tea from the pot standing on the table but Fern was crying so desperately that she couldn’t control her sobs long enough to drink it. All the time she was clinging on to Glanmor as if she was afraid he might leave her.

  Alwyn fetched a wet flannel and bathed Fern’s face, mopping away her tears at the same time. She gave an exclamation of dismay as she saw the deep cut to one side of Fern’s mouth and the bruising on her cheek.

  ‘That looks very sore indeed,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll put some salve on it right away and take another look at it in the morning because you may need to go to the hospital and have a stitch in it.’