An Uncertain Heart

by June Tate

  The following morning, the first arrivals were sent to the garden and under instruction from the gardener, started digging, clearing the ground of weeds and raking it over, ready for planting the seeds. At first, some of them struggled, not being used to manual labour for some time, but cheered on by the others, started to work with more enthusiasm.

  Whilst they were doing so, five more patients arrived and were shown their room and then were interviewed by Arthur Hurst before being sent to the dining room for lunch.

  Arthur and Helen went over the complete list together, he pointing out the men who would need particular care to begin with and suggesting ways of treating them. Each man had his own problem, which Arthur, with his experience, was able to recognise to a degree. Some, like James, still had nightmares, others had lost all confidence and had become morose. One or two covered their fears by being comedians, but beneath their veneer were still suffering with nerves.

  ‘These men are used to regimentation and rules, they are more comfortable with them,’ he suggested. ‘Like children, parameters give them a feeling of safety. I suggest you have a strict timetable, then they’ll know what is expected of them. They don’t have to worry about when and where. Mealtimes, anyway, will have to be at set times for the cook, or he’ll go crazy and we don’t want that!’

  Between them they wrote out a timetable, which was to be typed and put on the back of each bedroom door for the patients to read. It worked for the staff as well as the patients. And so, with fifteen men in all, the house began its work.

  During the first week, Helen asked James to come over and talk to the men. She felt that he could help to settle a few who were finding things difficult, being away from their families and familiar surroundings.

  He made his way to the garden first, now that all the men were working there. With his natural charm, he chatted to them, man to man, telling them of his experiences during the war, how it had left him afterwards and how working in the garden in Devon had been the first step to his recovery. He made them laugh at his embarrassing moments with loud noises, which was more than helpful to those suffering from the same things. In the evening, he played darts with them, helped them choose books from the library and encouraged some to write home, letting their families know they were alright.

  The men, recognising a kindred spirit, would talk to him about their fears, which was good for them, and James was able to relay this information to the staff, which went a long way in helping the men concerned.

  Some of them were still suffering from the effect of their war wounds and were on medication, distributed by the nurses. At night, those who still suffered with nightmares were cared for by the male nurses on duty. Those who had withdrawn within themselves began to talk after a day or two working hard in the garden, even if it was only to moan about their aches and pains.

  To begin with, Helen’s mother Margaret had moved in to look after Rebecca, but after a few weeks, when Helen felt the house could do without her, she only worked part-time, which enabled her to be with her child. Rebecca was growing so quickly and Helen missed being with her each day, watching her develop. Sometimes she would drive over to the house and take Rebecca with her, which cheered up the men who had children and were missing them. They loved to play with her, which in its own way was therapeutic for them. She would take her toy tea set with her sometimes and the men would sit on the floor, drinking from tiny cups and chatting. It was a delight to watch.

  At the end of each day when the men returned to the house after doing their daily jobs, which now included looking after the chickens, pigs and a couple of goats, they would have a bath and gather before dinner. Then they would be handed their mail from home, an important moment for all of them. It wasn’t always good news, which could set the patient back in his development. If it was a death or someone was seriously ill, then of course they were given leave to visit and return later. But mostly the families wrote cheerful letters, pleased that their men were settled and feeling better, hoping that when they returned home they could face the future so much more positively.

  On this particular day, a month later, Jack Simmons sat down to read his letter in the room where the men relaxed. As he read the two pages he became enraged and started swearing loudly.

  ‘What’s up, mate?’ asked one of the others.

  ‘My fucking wife, that’s what! She’s only gone and bloody left me. She’s gone off with that pillock who lives a few doors away.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’ll bloody kill him!’

  One of the male nurses overheard his remarks and as Jack made for the door, the nurse stopped him.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, Jack?’

  ‘I’m going home to sort that bastard out!’

  The nurse took a firm hold of his arm. ‘Now that wouldn’t help. Come with me, let’s talk about it.’

  Jack tried to shake off his hold, but the nurse led him firmly away into another room.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said one. ‘I wouldn’t like to be the man who’s run off with his missus if he gets to him.’

  Jack was persuaded to have a chat with the psychiatrist who managed to calm him down and persuade him that returning home wouldn’t be a good idea, but he warned the staff to keep a wary eye on him.

  ‘I’m not convinced that he’s ready to accept what’s happened and I’m not at all certain how he’s going to react in these next few days.’

  At first, Jack returned to his chores: working in the garden, cleaning the pigsty, feeding the chickens, but all that time he hardly spoke to anyone. The other men tried to chivvy him along, but in the end they left him alone. One morning they discovered his bed was empty.

  The psychiatrist rang the police station nearest to Jack’s home address to tell them what had happened in the hope that they could intervene in what was obviously going to be an altercation, which could get out of hand due to Jack’s anger and mental state.

  It transpired that by so doing, they had saved him from being in serious trouble. He’d returned home, gone to the neighbour’s house to confront him and was about to set about him when the police arrived to warn the man involved.

  Jack was hauled off to spend a night in the cells to cool down.

  When Helen was informed about his situation, it was decided to offer Jack another chance if he returned to the house and continued his treatment. Both the psychiatrist and Helen had discussed it between them and had decided they could still be the ones to help him, but only if he was willing to abide by the rules. The police agreed to let him go with just a warning – and so he was returned.

  It was to Helen that he was referred on his return, to his surprise.

  She sat in her office and spoke to him.

  ‘I can understand your anger, Jack. You feel you have been betrayed, but your wife has made her choice and you have to be a man and accept it. She obviously wasn’t happy so now you must move on. I know what you’ve been through on the battlefield during the war, I was there and had to try and mend the broken bodies that were brought into the hospital.’ Her tone softened. ‘My own husband has been through it too, and has suffered mental traumas as you have, but as you’ve seen, he has overcome them and now lives a mostly normal and happy life. If you stay the course with us, hopefully you can do so too and start afresh. But I have to tell you, Jack, there are other cases who would willingly take your place and I’m not about to waste my time on someone who isn’t going to work with us. The choice is yours!’

  He sat quietly for a moment. ‘That night in the cells gave me some thinking time, Sister. Yes, I was bloody angry, but you’re right, I need to pull myself together, and get fit so I’m in a position to start to live again.’ He grimaced. ‘If I’m honest, I wasn’t easy to live with, it’s no wonder that Gracie, my wife, left me. So my answer is yes. I will stay and do as I’m told and thank you for taking me back.’

  Helen smiled at his reply. ‘Good, now go and get yourself a cup of tea and see your mates.’

  At th
e door he turned and looked at her. ‘You’re even tougher than my old sergeant, Sister Havers!’

  She burst out laughing. ‘On your way, Jack, and behave!’

  Chapter Forty

  It was now July. The house had been open for three months. The vegetable garden was flourishing, keeping the cook supplied with fresh vegetables. There were eggs from the hens and milk from the goats, although milking them wasn’t easy for some of the men who had sustained a few kicks now and then, to everyone’s amusement.

  James had started giving riding lessons to those who were interested, but some of the men politely refused when actually faced with the saddled horse. Jack, however, was enthusiastic. He had a natural aptitude and, at James’s suggestion, he worked at the stables two days a week, helping out.

  ‘How much longer will Jack be with you?’ asked James one evening when he and Helen were having dinner.

  ‘He’s settled really well since he came back. He’s more stable now and hopefully we can send him home before too long, if he continues to improve.’

  ‘But he’ll be living alone, won’t he?’

  ‘I imagine so. He’s not mentioned any family. He did have a wife but she left, as you know. Why?’

  ‘He’s good with horses. I could use him permanently, if he wants a job.’

  ‘Really? Oh, James, that would be great, that’s unless he has any plans. Ask him tomorrow when you come over to give your riding lessons. But where would he live?’

  James gave this some thought for a moment. ‘There must be somewhere in the village that would rent him a room and feed him. I’ll ask around first before I say anything to him.’

  James found such a place and then he had a word with Jack when he was working in the stables a few days later, grooming the horses together.

  ‘What are your plans when you leave the house?’

  ‘To be honest I haven’t made any. I don’t want to go back home and be near the now ex-wife. That wouldn’t do at all. I’ll look for a job elsewhere, I suppose.’

  ‘How would you like to work here with me, looking after the horses? I could do with another pair of hands. Mick and I have enough to do as it is.’

  ‘You serious, gov?’

  Laughing, James said, ‘Yes, why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Knowing what I’ve been through and everything?’

  ‘You forget I’ve been in the same boat and suffered as you have. My wife said you would soon be ready to go home. There is a room for rent in the village, full board, so you would have somewhere to stay. What do you say? I’ll pay you a working wage.’

  Jack grinned broadly and put out his hand. ‘Thanks, you have a new man and I do believe I am a new man!’

  When Jack returned to the house at the end of the day and joined the others in the dining room, he gave them the good news. Everyone was happy for him, knowing about his broken marriage.

  ‘You’ll be able to chat up the women in the village,’ teased one.

  ‘Nah! I’ve sworn off women, thanks. I’ll stick to horses.’

  This brought forth lots of ribald joshing, but it made for a happy atmosphere among the men.

  Although most of the patients were recovering in their own way from their stay, one or two were not making the progress the staff had hoped for and this was told to Arthur Hurst on his next visit. He had a talk with the men involved and suggested they should be sent to his place in Devon, where he could offer a more in-depth treatment. And so it was arranged and new patients were admitted from a waiting list to take their place.

  During his visit he held a meeting with the other trustees who were running the business side of the venture. So far, the donations that had been promised at the opening were in place and in some cases the businessmen involved had promised regular payments, which was a great relief, but it was decided that in the near future they would have to make plans to feature the house and its aims, in the hope of raising even more money. They decided to hold a summer fete at the end of August. They could have stalls selling the home-grown vegetables. Some of the men were good at woodwork and it was decided they could produce useful items and perhaps some children’s toys, and the cook could set up a stall selling home-made cakes.

  When Helen made the announcement after dinner that night, it caused much discussion among the men, giving them an added interest, and when Helen asked them for volunteers, several put up their hands and offered up ideas about what they were prepared to do. It made for a lively discussion.

  To everyone’s surprise, Tommy, one of the men, offered to sketch portraits of the visitors.

  ‘I didn’t know you could draw,’ said Helen.

  He flushed with embarrassment. ‘It’s something I’ve always done, Sister. I’ve got a sketchbook full of drawings I’ve done since I’ve been here.’

  He was sent off to his room to fetch his book and when he returned and showed his work, it was obvious to all that he had a real talent. There were drawings of many of the patients and the staff. There were pictures showing the men at work in the garden, all drawn in either pencil or pen. The admiration shown by everyone boosted his morale, which delighted Helen as Tommy had been one of the patients who had been very withdrawn to begin with, and although he integrated well eventually, he remained a quiet man.

  So it was decided. The necessary wood would be supplied for those who needed it. The gardener would oversee the vegetables to be sold and any other goods needed in the cause would also be supplied. The two female nurses offered to make rag dolls together, which was an added bonus, and the cook was pleased to bake cakes for the day.

  When Helen went home that evening, she was thrilled with the outcome and told James what had transpired.

  ‘You should have seen the men, James. It gave them something new to work towards and you should see Tommy’s sketchbook, he has a real talent for drawing. He’s going to draw portraits for a small fee.’

  Seeing how animated his wife was, James was delighted for her.

  ‘If you like, I could bring three of my horses over and give rides to children. I’ll let Rebecca ride on Valiant first to show that it’s safe.’

  ‘That would be marvellous and Rebecca would love the fete. I’ll take her round the stalls. It was suggested by one of the men to have a coconut shy. He said he’d build the cups to put them in if we supply the nuts and the balls to throw. I said yes, of course. I thought we could put up notices in the local shops asking for items to be sold on a white elephant stall. Women love knick-knacks.’

  Edward offered to supply items for a raffle, which was a brilliant idea, and Margaret said she had items for the white elephant stall and would be willing to run the stall for them.

  During the coming weeks, there was an air of excitement in the house among the patients as they started work on their items. Those who were not so competent at making things helped in other ways, working extra hard in the garden, filling in for the men who were doing other things for the fete.

  As Helen walked around with the psychiatrist watching those at work she was thrilled when he said how being so involved was great therapy for the men.

  ‘Just watch their expressions, Helen. They are so engrossed, they’re in another world, one that doesn’t hold any fears for them. Most of them have overcome the worst of their mental problems being here. They are beginning to realise that they can cope with life in the real world, after all. Working in the garden, being allowed to live at a slower pace without any pressure, sharing their fears with me and the others who have suffered the same has been exactly what was needed to get them back on their feet. I’m so proud to be a part of it and so should you be. Sir Richard certainly would be.’

  She was very touched by his words. Having been part of the war and seeing how the troops had suffered, she knew that now she had the means, thanks to Richard, to be in a position to help these poor souls. She remembered how helpless she’d felt when she’d been behind the lines working in the hospital, knowing these men would be returning home
, unfit, still suffering mentally from what they’d seen, and how it would have affected their marriages. Hopefully, through their treatment here, marriages and home life could be saved as hers had been. But for Arthur Hurst and his care for James, it could well have been a different story.

  The day of the fete arrived. Breakfast was served early, allowing time for all the stalls to be set up and filled with the goods on offer. The vegetable stall looked very colourful, the vegetables arranged so carefully by the gardener.

  The white elephant stall was full to overflowing with many small items donated by the villagers and others. Margaret had arranged things really well and with a female touch that made it look so inviting to the ladies, and next to that a stall displaying delightful rag dolls, made by the nurses.

  There was a vast display of handmade wooden items: troughs for the garden, lidded boxes for storage and many small toys, plus a wooden fort, which any small boy would love.

  The coconut stall was set up, with a couple of the men ready to run it when the fete opened at two o’clock that afternoon. They were practising knocking the nuts out of the holder, making sure everything worked, anxious to start.

  Tommy had a chair for his clients to sit on whilst he drew their portraits, plus plenty of spare paper and pens. He decided to use pens for his drawings as they would last longer than ones in pencil.

  Helen walked round with little Rebecca, checking everything was in place, trying to placate her child who wanted to stop and play with everything.

  ‘No, darling, these aren’t for you. Later I’ll buy you a small cake and if you’re really good, an ice cream.’