by Kitty Neale
They kissed again, and then with one last hug, Tommy left her to walk up the Rise. Amy watched him for a moment, then went indoors to find her dad out and her mum asleep in a chair.
After her cleaning job and then getting Winnie to bed, her mum wasn’t usually home much before ten. Puzzled, Amy gently nudged her arm, but there was no response.
‘Mum, Mum,’ she urged.
‘Wh … what?’ she muttered as her eyes fluttered open.
‘Are you all right?’
Her mother blinked, shook her head and then sat up, looking up at Amy to ask, ‘What’s the time?’
‘It’s nine fifteen. Did you finish work early?’ Amy asked.
‘Err … err … yes,’ she said, rubbing her eyes and then lowering them as though to gather her thoughts before continuing. ‘Joyce was in a hurry to get home so we skimped a bit. I was back about half an hour ago and must have dozed off for a while. I’d best pop round to Winnie’s and get her to bed.’
Since she’d fainted on Monday her mum said she was fine, but looking at the dark circles under her eyes, Amy wasn’t so sure. She had done all she could to help her mum, taking on the ironing and a few other tasks, along with washing up after dinner every night, yet looking at her now it didn’t seem to have helped. ‘I could give you a hand with Winnie,’ she offered.
As her mother stood up she said, ‘There’s no need. I won’t be long.’
Amy tried again, but her mother still refused to let her help. It was too early for bed, so Amy sat down, her thoughts turning to Tommy. It had been wonderful to see him and she had almost melted in his arms.
Moments later the door suddenly flew open and her mother cried frantically, ‘Amy, Amy, run down to the telephone box and ring for an ambulance.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘It’s Winnie. She’s sitting in her chair and I can’t wake her up. I … I think she might be dead!’
‘Dead!’
‘Get a move on in case I’m wrong! I’m going to fetch Mabel.’
Amy ran then, as fast as she could, hoping that by the time the ambulance arrived it wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter Seven
When the ambulance turned the corner, its loud bell piercing the air, it proved that Mabel wasn’t the only nosey person on Lark Rise. A lot of people came outside to see what was going on. Of course it was mostly curiosity, mainly women who soon formed into small groups, talking in low voices while their eyes took in the comings and goings at Winnie’s house.
‘Look at that nosey lot,’ Mabel commented as they hurried outside. ‘They can’t wait to find out what’s going on.’
If it hadn’t been such a tragic and traumatic event, Phyllis might have laughed at the irony. Mabel was worse than any of them, but her words proved to be correct when Daphne Cole hurried up to them. ‘What’s going on? Is Winnie all right?’
Neither had time to answer because the ambulance men had left the vehicle, and Phyllis urged them inside, unaware that Mabel firmly closed the door behind them, leaving Daphne hovering outside.
Amy was still inside, pale faced and Phyllis now wished that she’d kept her daughter away. She stood beside her while the ambulance men quickly checked Winnie, expecting them to confirm what she and Mabel already knew.
Instead, one of them said, ‘I think I can feel a weak pulse.’
‘Right, let’s get her into the ambulance,’ the other one said, before turning swiftly from Winnie to ask, ‘Are you relatives?’
‘No, we’re just neighbours,’ Phyllis said, finding her voice. ‘I … I’ve been looking after Win … Mrs … Mrs Morrison.’
‘Has she got any relatives?’ he asked as they managed to lower Winnie onto a stretcher.
‘Yes, a daughter, but she lives in Devon.’
‘Right then, you’ll need to come with us. Once we get Mrs Morrison to hospital, they might need to know a bit about her medical history.’
‘I don’t think I can tell them much, but I still want to come,’ Phyllis said. Winnie was still alive and she didn’t want to leave her.
Moments later she was following the ambulance men outside again, but not before saying, ‘Amy, tell your dad what’s happened. I’ll see you when I get back. Thanks for your help, Mabel.’
With that Phyllis climbed into the ambulance, inwardly praying that Winnie was going to be all right. Guilt swamped her. She’d noticed that Winnie had been quieter than usual that day, her food hardly touched, but she had been so tired herself she hadn’t made a fuss when Winnie said she was fine.
Now it looked like Winnie was at death’s door, and Phyllis feared it was her fault.
Amy left Winnie’s house with Mabel and locked the door. She saw Carol with her mother and they rushed up to her. Mrs Povis though just huffed and hurried into her own house, for once seeming to relish keeping what she knew to herself.
‘Amy, is Winnie all right?’ Daphne asked.
‘My … my mum said she … died.’
‘Oh, poor Winnie, but come on, you’re shivering. Let’s get you home,’ Daphne said.
Amy found herself ushered into her own house, and urged onto a chair while Daphne said gently, ‘No wonder you look so pale. It’s never easy to see anyone who has passed away.’
‘No … no … Mum was wrong. Mrs Morrison’s alive. The ambulance men found a weak pulse.’
‘Did they? Well, that’s good news,’ Daphne said.
‘You still look a bit shaky though, Amy,’ said Carol.
‘I … I’ll be all right. It was just a bit of a shock seeing her like that, and well … I … I really thought she was dead.’
The door opened and Daphne said, ‘Here’s your dad now.’
‘What’s going on?’ Stan said, looking worried as he surveyed the scene.
‘Winnie has been taken ill, but we’ll leave Amy to tell you all about it,’ Daphne said. ‘Come on, Carol.’
‘Bye, Amy,’ Carol said, giving her a hug. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Amy said, and with her dad waiting expectantly, she told him all that had happened.
He listened, then said, ‘If Winnie was that bad, I can’t see her making it.’
‘Oh, Dad, don’t say that.’
‘Facts are facts. What hospital did they take her to?’
‘I don’t know. It all happened so quickly and I didn’t think to ask.’
‘Whichever one it is, let’s hope your mum isn’t there half the night.’
Amy hoped so too, but by midnight there was still no sign of her mum. ‘I wonder why she isn’t home yet,’ she said, stifling a yawn.
‘Go to bed, love,’ her dad said. ‘I’ll wait up for your mum.’
There was a knock on the door and Amy jumped up to answer it. ‘Mum!’ she exclaimed as her mother staggered in, looking exhausted and close to tears. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I was flippin’ stranded and I’m worn out,’ she said, heading for the fire and flopping onto a chair.
‘What do you mean? How did you get stranded?’ Stan asked.
‘I didn’t have any money for the fare home so I had to walk.’
‘Oh Mum, I should have realised that you hadn’t taken your purse,’ Amy cried, appalled that it hadn’t even crossed her mind.
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference if you had. There’s nothing in it,’ she said bitterly.
There was a moment of silence, but then Stan said, ‘You should have told someone at the hospital, one of the nurses or something. They might have been able to sort something out.’
‘I was in too much of a state to think. I sat around for ages, but then they came to tell me that Winnie had passed away soon after we got there. I was then bombarded with questions. They wanted information about her next of kin too, and all I could tell them was her daughter’s married name and that she lived in Devon, Tiverton I think. After that, all I wanted was to get out of there and come home.’
‘Oh, Mum, you must be really upset,’
Amy said.
‘Yes, I am, but make me a hot drink, love, cocoa if there’s any left, and then we should all go to bed. I’ve got to be up at five in the morning.’
Amy went through to the kitchen, wishing as always that her mum didn’t have to get up so early to go out cleaning. She had said that her purse was empty, but her dad, as always, had enough money in his pocket to go to the pub. She made the drink, took it to the living room, tight lipped with indignation on her mother’s behalf as she found herself blurting out, ‘Here you are, Mum. It isn’t right that you had to walk all that way, not when some people have got money for booze.’
There was a moment’s silence and then her dad asked, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Amy couldn’t believe she’d spoken out like that, and hastily kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Mum,’ she said, her dad’s question unanswered as she turned on her heels and hurried upstairs.
They were quiet for a minute or two after Amy left the room, but then Stan said, ‘I don’t know what’s come over Amy, but I suppose that was aimed at me.’
Phyllis’s reply was clipped. ‘She shouldn’t have said that, but if the cap fits, wear it.’
‘Now listen here, I give you a fair whack of my wages.’
Phyllis gulped down her cocoa and then rose to her feet, only saying, ‘Not now, Stan. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.’
With that she went upstairs, and confused, Stan locked up before following her. He found Phyllis already in bed, the room so cold that he quickly threw off his clothes to climb in beside her, and said, ‘I don’t know why you’re being funny with me. How was I supposed to know that you didn’t have the fare home?’
‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I’m upset about Winnie, and that long walk almost knocked me out. Now please, I’ve got to get up at the crack of dawn and need some sleep.’
Mollified, Stan said, ‘All right, love,’ and as his wife turned away from him he threw an arm around her waist, nestling close to her back.
Stan could tell by her breathing that Phyllis was soon asleep, while he remained awake, his thoughts turning. He wasn’t going to stand for Amy having a dig at him. Phyllis had never complained about the money he gave her and thinking back, he realised that things had been fine until she started looking after Winnie. It had worn her out, and though it wasn’t a nice way to look at it, he was relieved that the old girl had passed away. Things could get back to normal and Phyllis would be able to cope with her cleaning jobs.
Chapter Eight
As usual, when Amy got up at six thirty on Friday morning her mother was still at work. She had to make her dad’s breakfast, and with only one egg left she decided to fry it. He came down ten minutes later to find her in the kitchen, just about to pour boiling water into the teapot. She offered him no greeting, and instead went on to spread margarine on a couple of slices of toast.
He went back to the living room where soon after Amy took his breakfast through, still saying nothing as she turned to walk away.
‘Sit down, Amy,’ he commanded sternly.
Amy could guess what was coming and her heart began to thump. Her father was rarely angry, with her, or anyone else, but she had spoken out last night and he was obviously still annoyed. Well she was too, and she wasn’t sorry for what she had said. Defiantly she replied, ‘I’m going to get my bowl of cereal and then I’ll sit down.’
‘Fine, do that,’ he snapped.
Amy poured some cornflakes, but with only a little sugar in the bowl she left it for her mum and just added a little milk. She then carried it to the table and sat down, waiting for what was to come.
‘Right, my girl, from what you said last night, you seem to think it’s my fault that your mother had to walk home from the hospital. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘Well let’s get a few things straight …’
Amy listened as her father spoke. All right, he may not have known that her mother didn’t have the fare home, but he still had money for beer on a Thursday night while her mother was broke. It gave Amy the courage to speak. ‘Mum’s worn out. Instead of going to the pub nearly every night, you should give her a bit more housekeeping money and then she could give up at least one of her jobs.’
His face suffused with anger and he snapped, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Your mum’s been doing too much because she chose to look after Winnie. It’s got nothing to do with money.’
‘But if she could just give up one of her jobs …’
‘That’s enough!’ he thundered.
Amy had never seen her father in such a temper. She lowered her head, saying no more, and found that her throat was so constricted with nerves that she couldn’t eat. She picked up her bowl and went back to the kitchen, relieved when shortly after she heard the front door slam as her dad left for work.
When Phyllis finished her early morning cleaning job, she arrived home and found as usual that her daughter was just about to leave for the shoe shop. Amy smiled weakly, but Phyllis could tell that it was forced and concerned, she asked, ‘What’s the matter?’
For a moment Amy hesitated, but then she blurted out, ‘I’ve upset Dad.’
‘How did you manage to do that?’
‘I told him that instead of going to the pub, he should give you more housekeeping money.’
Her mother’s small frame seemed to stretch as angrily she said, ‘I won’t have you speaking to your father like that. You have no idea what he puts up with. He came home from the war wounded, feeling less than a man, reduced to doing a job he hates for low wages, and though his leg still gives him pain, he never complains.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Amy said, sounding contrite.
‘That’s because he always puts on a cheerful front. As for him going to the pub, it’s his only pleasure and I’m not complaining, so you …’
A knock on the door interrupted Phyllis, along with Carol’s voice shouting through the letterbox, ‘Amy! Amy, are you ready for work?’
‘Go on, just go,’ Phyllis snapped.
Amy looked stricken, about to say something, but instead she grabbed her coat and hurried out.
No sooner had her daughter left than Phyllis sat down, rubbing both hands over her face. She shouldn’t have lost her temper, not when this was all her fault; Amy falling out with her father because she thought Stan kept her short of money. It wasn’t true. With what he gave her, plus Amy’s keep and her cleaning jobs, she’d managed fine until she’d taken on looking after Winnie. She had been worried about Winnie’s frailty and ensured that she gave her a good breakfast, a nourishing lunch with fresh fruit, along with plenty of meat on her plate for dinner.
Everything had been fine, Phyllis realised, until she’d fainted. Amy had spoken out in her concern for her, and as a now-familiar wave of exhaustion washed over her, Phyllis knew that she couldn’t go on like this. It was time to see the doctor.
‘It’s only me,’ Mabel called as she came in through the back door and into the living room. ‘I collared Stan when he left for work, and though he didn’t seem in the best of moods, he told me about Winnie.’
Phyllis wasn’t in the mood for talking, but there’d be no getting rid of Mabel until she heard the whole story. ‘Yes, she passed away soon after we arrived at the hospital.’
‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Winnie looked as though she was gone before the ambulance turned up.’
Phyllis voiced her feelings. ‘I should have seen earlier that something was wrong. By the time I did it was too late.’
‘Don’t be daft. You told me yourself that Winnie’s been going downhill for some time now. If you ask me it was more old age than illness, her heart giving out or something like that.’
Mabel’s words made sense, and Phyllis clung to them as she said, ‘They wanted to know about Winnie’s next of kin so I told them what I could about Susan. It wasn’t much. I didn’t know her full addre
ss, but with her married name and the area she lives in, I expect they’ll find her.’
Mabel tossed her head, saying in disgust, ‘Susan didn’t do anything for her mother, but when she’s told I bet she’ll be down here like a shot to see what she can get her hands on.’
‘Winnie hasn’t got much. Her furniture is old and worn, and I think she only had her bit of pension.’
‘Well then, Susan will probably have to pay for her mother’s funeral,’ Mabel said, smiling with satisfaction.
Phyllis glanced at the clock and said, ‘Mabel, I’m sorry, but can we talk later? I’ve decided to see the doctor and I want to get there before the waiting room fills up.’
‘Is it to do with that fainting spell you had?’
‘Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s anything to worry about. I just thought I should get it checked out.’
Mabel rose to her feet. ‘Right then, I’ll be off, but let me know how you get on.’
Phyllis agreed, and in case the doctor wanted to examine her, as soon as Mabel left she went upstairs to have a wash.
Celia Frost was still angry. Thomas had gone out for over two hours last night and returned looking cold and tired. He’d gone straight to bed, while Celia had been left fuming. If he now had a setback it would be Amy Miller’s fault. She should have seen that Thomas wasn’t fully recovered and sent him home, but no, the girl had kept him out walking in the cold for far too long.
She had looked in on Thomas at eight o’clock that morning, and seeing that he was asleep had quietly closed the door again. That had been an hour ago, so she decided to check on him again. If he was awake, she’d prepare his breakfast.
However, just then Celia heard footsteps coming downstairs, then Thomas walked into the room, saying cheerily, ‘Morning, Mum.’
‘Thomas, you should have stayed in bed. I was about to make your breakfast and bring it up to you.’
‘There’s no need. I’m all right now; fit enough for work if I hadn’t overslept.’
‘Don’t be silly. Work can wait until you’re fully recovered.’
‘I’ve had enough time off, and though Dad hasn’t said anything, I know he’s busy.’
