by Mary Wood
‘Yes, that’s a good idea, Mrs Harper.’
Flora’s playing of singalong songs at the local pub had been another source of income for her, over the last few months. She’d mastered such songs as ‘My Old Dutch’, ‘Down at the Old Bull and Bush’ and ‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’, as well as many more, and always enjoyed her weekly stint. It had become a good source of income, if unpredictable. Not being a drinker as such, she refused the offer of drinks from the locals, but had put a saucer on top of the piano. The odd farthings they dropped in for her made a difference to what she earned. The landlord gave her an amount according to his takings; if they were good, then she would receive three shillings, but if bad, then she had been paid as little as one shilling.
By the time the party came to an end, all the adults, apart from Aunt Pru, Mrs Larch and Flora, were rolling drunk.
‘Eeh, look at the mess. We’ll be here till dawn, but it was worth it. What a night!’ Aunt Pru looked exhausted as she sat looking around the hall.
Mrs Larch nodded, her hands on her hips and giving her big smile. ‘And to think, our boys will be com— Oh, I’m sorry, Prudence. It’s that drop of beer I had, making me tongue loose before I think what I’m saying.’
‘Naw, don’t be sorry – we should rejoice about those returning. Me lad gave his life and it cut me in two, but these lads who are coming home have done just as much. We’re to take care of them when they get back. It’ll take a long time for them to get reet, after this lot.’
‘Look, I don’t know about you two, but I’m tired to my bones. Let’s lock up and come back in the morning. We can get more willing hands then, when they’ve all slept off the drink.’
‘You’re reet, Flora, I don’t reckon as I can lift a finger to owt. I just need me bed. Give me your arm, lass.’
Though there was nothing of Aunt Pru, the weight she put on Flora’s arm as she tried to help her up deepened Flora’s worry about her health. The strength seemed to be ebbing from Aunt Pru as the days went by. There had never been anything specific that Flora could put her finger on, to say what was wrong with Aunt Pru’s health. She ate regularly, though little; she no longer vomited, as she had when she first began to fail, but she was weak, lacked energy and tired easily. But as Flora looked into her Aunt Pru’s face now, fear gripped her. Aunt Pru’s lips had turned blue. Her heart! Oh no, I should have realized. The symptoms were staring me in the face!
If only they could have afforded a doctor’s visit. But in reality there wasn’t too much that could be done for a weak heart, other than the care she already gave Aunt Pru. But now that Flora was sure she knew what was happening, she would take even greater care of her. And, in the hope that something could be done, when her darling Cyrus returned and was able to claim his back-pay, she would ask to use some of it to get Aunt Pru seen by Kenneth Carmichael, the physician who had attended her father.
As the weeks went by, very little news filtered through about the prisoners-of-war. Trainloads of soldiers, both able-bodied and wounded, arrived every day, and families were reunited. Always there seemed to be a party going on somewhere, as people felt the need to celebrate every homecoming. For Flora, this brought in extra money, as she was engaged almost every night to play the piano. Every part of her ached from the long hours, but the ache in her heart was the hardest to bear.
She longed to hear that Cyrus was on his way home, though the latest that she had read yesterday had given her hope. It appeared that the regiments of British soldiers who had got to Germany were beginning to reach the prisoner-of-war camps and organize medical care and the return home of the prisoners. But it warned that this would take some time, as the processing of prisoners wasn’t an easy task. At last! And whatever else, at least now I know that Cyrus is truly being cared for and treated well.
But there was another worry that seemed to outweigh all the joy of the war ending, and was posing a greater threat to life than the war itself had done: the spread of flu. The papers had been full of its devastating effect across the globe, and now London was in its grip, with the pandemic escalated by the returning soldiers probably carrying the virus home with them. Already hundreds had died, the hospitals were full and there was a backlog of bodies in the morgues, as the funeral directors couldn’t cope.
And now the flu was in their street! A young boy, who lived only doors away, had been taken ill. Terrified for Alice and Aunt Pru, Flora decided that playing at the pub and for parties had to stop. There was too much of a risk, amongst the crowds of people. If she could, she would lock her door and keep it locked, but as always the spirit of everyone was to keep going, no matter what.
As if her thought had been heard, a loud banging on her door made Flora jump. The door handle turned and Mrs Larch walked in. ‘It’s me ’usband, can you come and ’elp him, Flora. ’E can’t breathe.’
Flora stood still, unable to react.
‘You’re a nurse, you must be able to ’elp, love. Please, I’m at me wits’ end!’
Looking from Alice to Pru, Flora’s heart told her not to do this, but she couldn’t refuse, even though she knew there was little she could do. ‘I’ll get my coat and be along in a moment – you get back to him. Aunt Pru, don’t touch the door knob, and keep Alice away from where Mrs Larch stood, as she may be carrying the virus. If you feel strong enough, get a bowl of hot water and disinfectant and wash the door knob and the door. I’ll be back soon, but neither of you are to come near to me until I have bathed and put my clothes in the boiler.’
‘Eeh, lass.’
‘I know, but try not to worry. As long as we take precautions, we should be all right. I’m taking this tea towel with me, to use as a mask. I’ll be back soon.’
The sound coming from Mrs Larch’s living room was pitiful. The heat in the room was stifling, as a fire blazed up the chimney. Mr Larch lay on the sofa, his body covered by a blanket. His hoarse gasps as he struggled for breath echoed around the room.
‘I’m going to tie this tea towel around my mouth, Mrs Larch. Now don’t worry, it is normal nursing procedure to wear a mask, and you should do the same. But, first, open all the windows and doors.’
‘But he’s cold.’
‘That’s the fever. I think he has pneumonia.’
‘Oh, God love us, no . . . No!’
‘Do as I say. And then help me to strip him. We have to bathe him in cold water to bring his temperature down. Have you any aspirin? They say it is helping with the symptoms if a patient takes a higher dose than normal, every four hours.’
As Mrs Larch went round opening windows, Flora stripped the blanket from Mr Larch and began taking off his soaked pyjamas.
‘I have aspirin. I never thought to give it to ’im. I take it for me ’eadaches.’
‘Right, we’ll deal with his temperature first. Bring me a bowl of cold water, then get as many pots of water boiling on the stove as you can. Once we have cooled him down a little, we need to close the windows and then fill the room with steam, for his breathing. But at the same time keep dousing him in cold water, to cool him.’
‘Will ’e live?’
The question, asked of her many times in the past, was one she couldn’t answer. ‘Let’s do all we can to give him a chance. Do as I say – and hurry.’
Her tone was one of command and Mrs Larch responded.
An hour later, with her body soaked in sweat, Flora thought she heard a change in Mr Larch’s breathing, but not for the better. Now it was even more laboured, and when he exhaled, a distinct rattle could be heard. Oh God, help him. But in her heart she knew there was no help to be had, as this was what they termed the death-rattle. Within minutes it ceased, and a silence filled the room.
‘I’m so sorry, I—’
Exhaustion, and grief for Mrs Larch, caused Flora’s tears to tumble and, as she thought of Freddy, the pain in her heart increased and racked her body with sobs. Mrs Larch’s arm came round her. ‘You did all you could.’ After a moment, as the shock of what had
happened ground into her, Mrs Larch began to sob. ‘Bert . . . Bert.’
Flora pulled herself together. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea, and then go for the doctor. They are duty bound to come to certify a death, even if we can’t pay.’
‘Ta, love, and ta for all you did, for my Bert.’
‘Cover him with the sheet, and then, when I come back, we need to scrub the room from top to bottom, and you need to bathe, and boil your clothes and all the bedding. It may be wise to burn Bert’s pyjamas. I – I know all of that is the last thing you want to do, but we must. The virus spreads like wildfire, and we have to take every precaution we can.’
Mrs Larch nodded. ‘I’ll make a start now. Forget that tea, love, you go and fetch the doctor.’
As Flora left the house, despair entered her. Why, why? Haven’t we all been through enough? Didn’t enough people die in the war?
Mr Larch had worked hard throughout the war years. His job on the railway was considered an essential one, but one he had to do with very few other workers, as the younger ones had volunteered to go to war.
He and Mrs Larch had no children, and now she was going to be truly alone. Except that maybe, as she was the heart of the community, looking out for others and like a surrogate mother to all the kids, they would rally round her and make sure she was all right. Yes, Flora knew that would happen, and the thought comforted her.
But how many of them would this flu epidemic slaughter before it was finished? Please God, keep us all safe, especially Aunt Pru and my little Alice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Weary beyond endurance, once she was home, Flora forced herself to bath and to boil her clothes and the towel she’d used. She even scrubbed her shoes, praying as she did so that she hadn’t brought the virus to her home.
Aunt Pru was asleep in the chair next to the dying fire, and Alice was curled up on the sofa.
‘Aunt Pru, I’m home.’
With a snort and a little jump, Pru opened her eyes. After a moment they held a question.
‘No, I didn’t save him – he died two hours ago.’
‘Oh, lass, does it never end? Let me get you a cup of cocoa, I’m rested now. I managed to clean everything down. You put little one to bed.’
Flora didn’t protest. Sometimes she had to let Pru do as she wanted to, and she knew that what made her happiest was taking care of her and Alice.
The clock struck midnight as they drank the hot, steaming cocoa. Too tired to talk much, they sat in silence for a while. Flora thought over the night’s happenings and how, when the doctor arrived, he had assured Mrs Larch that what had been done was the correct procedure. This had pleased Flora, as there was always a danger that Mrs Larch, who had objected to everything at first, could have begun to think that, instead of helping, Flora had made things worse.
Aunt Pru brought her out of her thoughts. ‘Thou knaws, lass, I often think as I’ve dragged you down. You should be living in a nice house, looked after by servants and the like.’
‘What brought that on? Never think like that, Aunt Pru. I chose to live with you. I chose the love you gave me over all the comforts my Aunt Amelia could have given me. They would have been cold comforts anyway, as she never made me welcome. I was a ticket for her to get money out of my father. I hated every minute there.’
Flora leaned forward and took Aunt Pru’s cold hand in her own. ‘You were the saving of me, and I love you, Aunt Pru. More than I can tell you. None of the struggle we have is your fault. You’re not well, you can’t help that.’
‘What do you think is wrong with me?’
She’d dreaded this question. ‘I think it may be your heart, my dear. I think what you have been through has taken its toll on you. Though that alone wouldn’t necessarily cause heart disease.’
‘I had rheumatic fever as a child.’
‘Oh, that’s probably the cause – if I’m right, and we don’t know that I am. And, you know, patients with damaged hearts can live on for years. It’s just a matter of taking care, not over-exerting yourself. I shouldn’t have asked you to clean down tonight. I was just so afraid of the flu virus getting into our house.’
‘Well, I don’t do much, as you won’t let me, lass, so I doubt it hurt me, though I took a long time to do it. I just have no energy, and me breathing’s troubling me of late.’
This set up a further worry in Flora, but she had no time to ponder it, as the second knock of the night sounded on the door. This one was followed by an impatient rattling of the door knocker.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, who’s this now? I hope it’s not anyone else in distress. I’m exhausted.’
Flora went to the door as she spoke. Opening it left her speechless for a moment and then squealing out, ‘Cyrus! Oh, Cyrus.’
She didn’t register how thin he was or his gaunt face, but flung herself at him, laughing and crying tears of joy, all at the same time. To be in his arms took away all the hurt and pain, and rolled the years back. His voice came to her over and over, ‘Flora. Flora, my Flora.’
‘Eeh, lass, bring the poor man in out of the cold and get the door shut.’
Flora laughed. The way Aunt Pru had said this, you’d think Cyrus had only been to the shop and back, instead of being away for almost four years. Taking his hand, she pulled him inside, her gaze never leaving his beloved face.
It was as the light fell on him that the pain of all he’d been through registered with her. ‘Oh, my darling, you’re home now. We’ll soon have you well. Let me take your coat.’
‘I’m fine, my darling. Everything in my world came right the moment you opened the door.’
‘Come away and sit down, lad. You can have my chair, as I’m off to bed. But, by, it’s good to see you.’
‘And you, Aunt Pru. Let me help you – you look worn out, what have you been up to?’
‘Lass’ll tell you everything, lad. And ta. I could do with a help up.’
Flora saw the look of concern pass over Cyrus’s face, but her own concern was for him. His cheeks had sunk in, his eyes had the stare of someone very weak and his clothes hung on his body.
‘I’ll help Aunt Pru. You sit down and get warm, my love. I’ll not be a mo.’
With Aunt Pru tucked up, Flora bent to kiss her head.
‘By, lass, you’ve to tread carefully. He’s damaged in his body, but he could be so in his mind, too. Take things steady, and don’t force him to tell you owt as he don’t want to. Just love him tonight. That’s all he needs.’
‘I will, Aunt Pru, don’t you worry. I’ll smother him in love. Now you get off to sleep.’
Downstairs, she found that Cyrus had rested his head back and had his eyes closed. As quietly as she could, she moved the kettle over the hob and set about making another cup of cocoa. She hoped he liked it.
This thought told her how little she knew of him. They’d had so few days together, and had spent most of them making love.
A tingle went through her, because thinking this awakened feelings she’d long since suppressed. Cyrus opened his eyes. His look was full of love. His hand came out to her and he pulled her down onto his knee. She could feel his thigh bones digging into her, but any worry she might have had about how emaciated he was disappeared, as their lips met. With that touch, her world came right again.
She didn’t want ever to pull away from him, but she could feel how uncomfortable he was, so she took her lips from his and rose. ‘We have our life in front of us, darling. Let’s get you stronger first.’
His smile was apologetic.
‘Darling, nothing is expected of you. To have you back with me is all I asked for. Everything else can happen when it does. Don’t feel that you have to do anything other than be here. And we have such a lot to talk about and to catch up on.’
‘Yes, I need to talk. Some of my fellow prisoners never wanted to, and even on the way home they said they would never speak of what happened to us, but I want to. I want to write it all down and cleanse myself of it.’
‘It was that bad, darling?’
‘It was. But I’m home now. And I’m determined not to let the experience colour the rest of my life, as I fear many will. I’m going to deal with it, then put it behind me.’
‘That’s what I try to do. But you already know most of what happened to me. I could write it in my letters, but I knew there was more than you could write.’
‘They censored our mail. They wanted to create a propaganda message that it was better to surrender and become prisoners-of-war than be killed fighting for what they termed a lost cause.’
‘Yes, we were aware of that message, but none of us believed that conditions were good for you.’
Cyrus took the cocoa and sipped it. ‘When I’ve had this, can I peep at our little girl? I’ve dreamed of the moment I set eyes on her. And I have dreamed of making more babies with you, my darling. So, when I’m stronger, you had better watch out.’
They both laughed. Flora sank onto the mat in front of Cyrus, and he stroked her hair with his free hand.
‘I was so sorry to hear about Freddy, darling. A lovely young man – taken. What a waste of life. So many . . . So many.’
She didn’t want to cry, as she’d done so much of that, and this homecoming wasn’t going to be spoilt by tears of sadness. ‘I know. It’s going to take a lot of getting over, and we have another threat, with the flu pandemic reaching us, but we are to stay strong.’
‘What about your Aunt Pru? She’s not well, is she? What do the doctors say?’
‘We haven’t been able to afford one. But even if we did, I don’t believe there’s anything that can be done.’
‘Not afford one? Why not?’
‘I don’t want to tire you with details, darling, not tonight, but things have been very difficult, moneywise, for a long time now.’
‘But you never said in your letters.’
‘How could I? You had enough on your plate. I tried just to tell you the good things, except when I had to tell you about Freddy, of course. But the main reason was Aunt Pru not being strong enough to care for Alice while I went out to work, so I had to get whatever work I could that allowed me to take her with me. Most of it was very low-paid. And the second reason, which may turn out to be a blessing for us, is that your pay was stopped.’ She went on to explain, hating talking about such things when he’d only just arrived home, but knowing she couldn’t avoid doing so, as he wasn’t going to let it stay in the air until the morning.
