Homecoming

by Ellie Dean

  Peggy was delightfully squiffy from all the gin she’d had as she tried to maintain her balance on the bar stool and sing along to Gloria’s enthusiastic piano playing. She loved these people so much, her heart was full. And soon – very soon – her Jim would be home and life would be complete again.

  Doris woke that Monday morning with a thumping headache. She groaned as she climbed out of the empty bed and went into the bathroom in search of some aspirin. John was already up and about and didn’t appear to be suffering at all, but drinking in the afternoon had never agreed with Doris, and she regretted having got rather too much into the swing of things yesterday.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror – an unedifying sight – and splashed cold water onto her face in the hope it might improve things. It didn’t, but by the time she’d cleaned her teeth, brushed her hair and dressed for the day, the aspirin had started working and she’d begun to feel somewhat better.

  ‘I’m sorry, John, but I really can’t face a fried egg this morning,’ she said, pushing the plate away. ‘I’ll just have this tea and a slice of toast.’

  John grinned and set about demolishing her breakfast, despite the fact he’d already eaten his own. ‘It was a good party, wasn’t it? I’m sorry you’re not the full ticket this morning.’

  ‘It’s my own fault, John. I should never have tried to match Gloria drink for drink. That woman must have the constitution of a navvy.’

  John chuckled as he cleared the dishes. ‘She’s been in the pub trade for years, so you shouldn’t be surprised.’ He patted her hand. ‘Stay at home this morning, Doris. I can cope in the office on my own.’

  ‘But you have that appointment in town this morning,’ she reminded him. ‘And actually, I think I’d rather go into work than mope around here. The walk there should blow some of the cobwebs away.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, my dear,’ he murmured, finishing the washing-up. ‘I shouldn’t be too long at the solicitor’s, and paying in the rental cheques will take a matter of minutes. I’ll buy something nice to eat at our desks for lunch.’

  Doris looked out of the window at the threatening sky. ‘You’d better take the car,’ she murmured. ‘It looks as if it’s going to rain again.’

  ‘I need the exercise,’ he said. ‘We’ve been cooped up indoors since before Christmas, and with all the rich food and drink, my waistband is getting rather too snug.’ He patted his flat stomach and then bent to kiss the top of her head. ‘I should be back by midday.’

  Doris carried her cup of tea into the hall and watched him don his raincoat and hat and pick up the large golfing umbrella. He kissed her lovingly on the cheek and opened the front door. ‘See you later.’

  She stood in the doorway and watched him stride away until he was out of sight, and then went back into the kitchen to finish her tea, tidy up and get ready for her walk to the office.

  The heavy grey clouds were scudding across a gloomy sky as the bitter wind came up from the sea. Doris wedged the velvet hat firmly on her head, pulled up her coat collar and walked briskly towards the factory estate, glad it wasn’t raining, for not even the sturdiest umbrella would survive this wind.

  She waved to Jack Smith who was working on a car, and hurried up the steps to the office that overlooked the estate. Closing the door behind her, she plugged in the kettle, hung up her things and switched on the two-bar electric fire. Once she’d made the tea, she sat down to go through the morning post.

  John had spent an hour with his solicitor, discussing the recent changes he’d made to his will, and coming to the conclusion that it was the fairest way to deal with the thorny problem of his estranged son. Once it had been signed and witnessed by two members of staff, the old boy insisted they had a glass of sherry and a slice of Madeira cake.

  John knew the elderly man had all but retired from the law firm which was now in his son’s capable hands, but since he’d been widowed, he preferred coming into his office rather than sit alone at home. So, being a patient man, John spent another half an hour he couldn’t really spare chatting about the Lake District and drinking rather good sherry.

  John left the solicitor’s office satisfied that he’d done his good deed for the day, and hurried to pay in the rental cheques for the leased factory units. There was a long queue as usual on a Monday morning, but time passed quite quickly as he chatted to a golfing pal and fixed up a game for the following weekend if the weather improved.

  He checked his watch, saw it was almost midday, and quickly headed for the Home and Colonial to buy something for lunch. There was a long queue of gossiping housewives which stretched along the pavement, so he changed his mind and went to the bakery instead. Here was yet another queue, but much shorter, and he was soon happily heading back up the High Street clutching lovely warm pasties.

  The large black Bentley came careering down the hill, clearly out of control. It swerved, the tyres screeching in protest as cyclists and other cars tried to avoid it. It hit the far kerb, narrowly missed a lamppost and threatened to overturn as the elderly woman driver yanked on the steering wheel but kept her foot on the accelerator.

  John froze as he watched it sway and skid across the road, heading straight for a woman with a pram. He could see she was frozen in shock and quickly moved to push her out of the way, but the Bentley hit a deep pothole, turned turtle and spun in a different direction.

  John saw it coming but had no time to get out of the way. As the front fender clipped him hard and tossed him into the air, he could hear screams and shouts and the terrible sound of tearing metal and splintered glass. He hit the ground, the breath punched from him as everything suddenly went black.

  The morning had sped past as Doris worked solidly through the pile of letters and answered telephone calls. It wasn’t until her stomach gurgled with hunger that she looked up at the clock on the wall. Surprised to find it was after one o’clock, she wondered where on earth John had got to, and then remembered that old Mr Clarke enjoyed a chat over sherry and cake.

  She put the kettle on for more tea in the hope that John had remembered to buy something for lunch. She was feeling very much better now and was looking forward to having something to eat after her meagre breakfast, so she treated herself to a biscuit from the packet in the tin.

  The telephone rang just as she’d poured the tea, and everything was forgotten in the horror of what the woman was telling her. Slamming down the receiver, she abandoned the tea and biscuit, grabbed her coat, keys and handbag, locked the door behind her and charged down the stairs. She had two choices. Waste precious minutes by fetching the car to drive down – or just run.

  She ran faster than she’d ever thought possible and arrived at the Cliffehaven General out of breath and terrified. She raced up the steps into the reception area and headed straight for the accident and emergency department.

  ‘Mrs White,’ she gasped to the sister in charge. ‘My husband … my husband.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mrs White,’ the woman soothed. ‘He’s in good hands. The doctors are with him. Sit down and catch your breath while I get you a cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t want tea,’ Doris said fiercely. ‘I want to see my husband.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible just yet. Please, Mrs White, sit down.’

  Doris felt light-headed and the room began to swim round her, so she let the young woman help her to sit, and tried desperately to regain her wits. ‘What happened?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘He was knocked down by a car in the High Street,’ she replied. ‘He has several broken bones, and a very nasty bump on the head, I’m afraid.’

  ‘But he’ll be all right, won’t he?’ she rasped. ‘He’ll pull through?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs White, I really can’t say anything until the doctor has finished examining him. Is there anyone you’d like me to call to be with you?’

  ‘Are you saying his injuries are serious?’

  The nurse’s expression said more than any w
ords could convey, and she pressed her hand on Doris’s shoulder in sympathy as she asked again if there was someone she could call.

  ‘My sister,’ she managed. ‘My sister, Peggy Reilly. She’s at work, but … but …’ Doris burst into tears.

  ‘It’s all right, Doris. I’m here,’ said a breathless Peggy. ‘I saw you running hell for leather away from the factory and knew something must have happened.’

  She put her arm about Doris’s heaving shoulders and tried to soothe her as the nurse explained about John. ‘I’ll stay with her for as long as she needs me,’ she promised.

  Doris eventually dried her eyes, but she was shivering with shock, her heart heavy with dread. ‘I can’t lose him, Peggy,’ she said tremulously, clasping her hand tightly.

  Peggy gripped her arm. ‘No one said anything about losing him, Doris,’ she said firmly. ‘We just have to believe he’ll come through this. John’s a fit man for his age and broken bones can heal. Please try not to think the worst.’

  They sat there, hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder, for what felt like hours until a doctor came out to see them.

  ‘Your husband has come round momentarily, but he was very groggy. We’re taking him down to theatre to repair his broken pelvis and the fractures in his left leg. I must warn you that all surgery carries certain risks, but it’s vital we repair the damage as soon as possible.’ He handed her a clipboard. ‘You need to sign this consent form.’

  Doris stared up at him, her whole body trembling with fear. ‘But he’s a very fit man for his age,’ she managed tearfully. ‘Why should there be complications and risk?’

  ‘It’s the way it is with even the simplest operation, Mrs White,’ he said rather impatiently. ‘Please sign the form so the surgeon can get on.’

  Doris signed the form, her hand shaking so much it was all but illegible. ‘How long will he be in theatre?’

  ‘For several hours,’ he replied, taking the form from her. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you went home, and I’ll get someone to telephone you once it’s over.’

  Doris shook her head. ‘I’m staying here.’

  He nodded curtly and strode away, leaving Doris numb, icily cold and unable to think straight. Her world was crashing around her, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it.

  ‘Do you think we ought to try and contact Michael?’ asked Peggy hesitantly.

  ‘I don’t want him here,’ hissed Doris, clutching Peggy’s arm. ‘And there’s no need. John’s fit and strong and a few broken bones won’t kill him.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s the case,’ said Peggy. ‘But Michael has to be told, Doris. He’s enemy enough without you keeping something like this from him.’ She shifted in the hard chair. ‘Do you have a telephone number for him?’

  Doris shook her head. ‘I only know he’s a major at Catterick – or he was before Christmas.’

  ‘Then that will have to do. Will you be all right on your own while I pop across the road to the Anchor to make the call?’

  Doris nodded, too upset to speak.

  Time passed slowly as she sat there huddled into her misery and fear, and although a probationer had brought her a cup of tea it was sitting on the floor at her feet untouched.

  ‘Well, now, Doris,’ said Ron, plumping down and putting his arm round her shoulders. ‘’Tis awful about John, but we must stay positive. The doctors here are ruddy marvels, and your man is as fit as a flea. He’ll pull through, I’ve no doubt of it.’

  ‘I wish I could be so sure,’ she murmured, glad to see him even though they’d never really got on. ‘Did Peggy manage to get hold of Michael?’

  ‘She left a message with some chap at the barracks. It turns out he’s been sent to West Germany as part of the British Army security presence. I suspect he’ll be flown home immediately.’

  Doris closed her eyes. It was bad enough knowing that John was at this moment under the knife, without the added pressure of his unpleasant son turning up.

  Peggy hurried away from the factory in Camden Road, relieved that Daisy would be kept on at the crèche and fed if necessary, and that Solly had been so understanding of her leaving her post at the factory so abruptly. Knowing Ron was keeping Doris company, she quickly drove home, made some potted meat sandwiches and a flask of tea, and told Cordelia what had happened.

  She’d had to be rather firm with Cordelia, for the arthritis was particularly bad today and Peggy didn’t want her going out in the appalling weather, or sitting around in draughty hospital corridors. Promising she’d telephone the minute she had any news, she drove back to the hospital to discover that Doris and Ron were now in the relatives’ room, but there was no sign of Michael. John was still in surgery, and probably would be for several more hours, but the surgeon was evidently pleased with his progress.

  Peggy hugged her sister, appalled at how she’d aged in the last hour or so, and how small and defenceless she looked suddenly. Coaxing her into drinking some tea, she offered her a sandwich and wasn’t surprised when she pushed it away.

  ‘Rosie said not to worry about tonight, as it’s always quiet on a Monday and she can cope on her own.’ She offered Ron a sandwich which he took and ate hungrily. ‘I’ve also left a note at home, asking Charlie to pick up Daisy from the crèche after her tea and put her to bed.’

  The door opened and they all looked up expectantly. ‘I heard about what happened,’ said Danuta. ‘I am very sorry, Mrs White. Is there anything I can do for you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied weakly, ‘but there’s nothing really anyone can do but wait.’ She looked at Danuta as she sat down beside her. ‘The nurse said he was hit by a car in the High Street. Have you any idea of how it happened?’

  ‘I saw only the ambulance drive away and a car on its roof, all smashed up inside Plummer’s shop window. I went to see if I could help and someone told me what had happened.’ She bit her lip, clearly wondering how much to tell her.

  ‘Please, Danuta. I need to hear it all,’ said Doris.

  ‘The driver of the car is an elderly lady and she put her foot on the accelerator instead of the brake. She would have killed a woman and her baby if the car had not hit a hole in the road, turned over and changed direction.’

  Danuta paused and took Doris’s hand. ‘The lady I spoke to said John would have been safe if he had stayed where he was, but he went towards the woman with the pram to get her out of the way, and the car hit him.’

  Doris covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  ‘What about the driver?’ Ron rumbled.

  ‘She has only scratches and bruises, but is very shaken.’

  ‘I hope they arrested her for dangerous driving,’ snapped Doris.

  ‘I expect it will be so,’ murmured Danuta. ‘Someone said she’d been taken to the police station once the ambulance men said she was well enough to be questioned.’

  She looked at the watch pinned to her uniform. ‘I am sorry, but I have other patients to see. I will come back later.’

  ‘She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?’ said Doris into the silence once Danuta had left. ‘I didn’t realise. I always thought she was a bit aloof. But then she is foreign.’

  Nobody dared reprimand Doris, but the already tense atmosphere became almost unbearable. Ron left shortly afterwards to have his tea and make sure Rosie was managing all right in the bar, and as the time slowly passed, Peggy was relieved to see him back, accompanied by Frank and Anne, who’d left the girls with Martin.

  It was almost eight in the evening when the doctor appeared in the waiting room to tell them that John was now in the recovery ward. ‘You may see him for just a minute, Mrs White, but you will find he’s very sleepy and probably won’t really know you’re there.’

  ‘But he’s all right, isn’t he?’ asked Doris. ‘There are no complications?’

  The doctor smiled. ‘Apart from his injuries, he’s a very fit, healthy man for his age, which has helped him through the operation. Th
ere is always the possibility that he will suffer from concussion, but we’ll keep a close eye on that.’

  ‘How soon will he be able to come home?’ asked Doris.

  ‘Not for some time yet, Mrs White. It will take several weeks of recuperation and physiotherapy before he is able to walk again, but once we deem him fit enough, we’ll be sending him to the Memorial.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ she said meekly. She gathered up her things. ‘I’d like to see him now, if I may.’

  ‘Not before I do,’ said Michael, who’d come in unnoticed and in full army uniform.

  The doctor raised his brows. ‘And who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Major White, Colonel White’s son,’ he replied curtly. ‘And as I’ve just been flown in from Germany I demand to see my father.’

  Peggy and the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats at this rude intrusion.

  ‘I’m sorry, Major,’ the doctor replied coolly. ‘But only the next of kin may visit tonight.’ He looked at Doris who’d gone ashen and took her arm. ‘Come, Mrs White. I’ll show you the way.’

  The colour drained from Michael’s face as he clenched his fists at his sides. ‘If my father dies before I get to see him, I shall blame you,’ he hissed at Doris.

  There was a sharp gasp of disgust from Peggy who stood to defend her sister.

  Doris faltered and drew her arm from the doctor’s grasp. ‘Perhaps it would be better if Michael saw him tonight,’ she said fretfully. ‘I’ll come back in the morning.’

  The doctor looked from her to Michael, clearly sensing the tension that was building in the room. ‘Why don’t you both come?’ he said to forestall any more trouble.

  ‘I have no wish for this woman to accompany us,’ said Michael stiffly.

  ‘Then you will stay here,’ retorted the doctor.

  Slipping her hand into the crook of the doctor’s arm to steady herself, Doris studiously ignored Michael who was incandescent with fury at being snubbed, and made as dignified an exit as possible.