Dragon Land

by Maureen Reynolds

  We then got back in the car and he drove me to the station, where I sat on a bench until the train arrived. I dropped in at DM Brown’s on my way home, but when I saw Mum was busy I went home and wrote to Margaret, including my notes and sketches, before walking down to the post office.

  When Mum arrived home that evening, she looked really exhausted, but I had the tea ready. The first thing she did was put on her slippers.

  ‘My feet are killing me and I’m sorry I bought those new shoes,’ she said, sitting down in the chair with her feet on the footstool.

  As usual she didn’t eat much, even though I had bought a steak pie from the butcher. Again, I was worried by her lack of appetite. I knew she had never been a big eater, but she was getting worse, and I planned on having a talk with the doctor about it.

  Two days later the forecasted storm arrived, and the rain and wind were ferocious. Mum said she was glad she didn’t have to go to work, but I got soaked going to the school. Polly arrived at the same time as I did and Mr Drummond was already in his office. Then Jane Andrews, who was the infant teacher, came in like a drowned rat.

  ‘What a day,’ she said as she dried her hair with the cloakroom towel. ‘Thank goodness I’ve got my mackintosh, which my parents gave me for my Christmas.’

  Polly said it was a lovely waterproof coat, and I agreed.

  It was in the middle of the following week before we heard from Margaret. Her letter thanked us for going to look at the house, and on the recommendation of the solicitor and surveyor she had gone ahead and bought it. She added that she was due back for good in May, with Gerald following later in the year.

  Mum greeted this news with delight. ‘It’ll be so good to have Margaret back in this country and also to meet up with Gerald again. I haven’t seen him since they were married in 1913.’

  I was surprised by this. ‘Hasn’t he come back to this country since then?’

  ‘No, he’s travelled to loads of places with his work. That’s why I’m surprised he wants to come back to the seaside to retire. I would have thought he would want to stay somewhere abroad.’

  I also thought it strange, but as I had never met him I had no idea what he was like, apart from a photograph that Margaret had shown me years ago. He was tall and slim, with a small moustache and dark hair.

  Margaret had also mentioned in her letter that she was going to get in touch with Justice’s furniture shop in Whitehall Street to supply furniture for the new house and that the solicitor would arrange for a plumber to come and replace the ancient water heater. She asked if I could maybe arrange to be in the house to oversee to the deliveries.

  I wrote back saying it would have to be on a Saturday, and Justice’s said they would be in touch when they were sending out their van.

  Two weeks later I was back at the house and was amazed when the carpets were laid in the rooms and linoleum laid in the kitchen and bathroom There wasn’t a lot of furniture, but Margaret had obviously chosen it from a catalogue and each room had the basics. I let the delivery men place everything in each room and I knew Margaret could always place things to her own taste. The plumber had been and lovely new water heaters were installed in the bathroom and kitchen.

  When I got back home, Mum wanted to hear how it had all gone, and I spent a couple of hours telling her how the house now looked.

  The snow came early in February, and it was a relief to arrive inside the school every morning. The children would come in with snow-encrusted gloves, scarves and coats, and the cloakroom floor was covered in small puddles.

  I was really enjoying my job and becoming more confident. To start with, I was nervous when Annie Hendry retired, but as the days passed I felt I had chosen my true vocation. I got on well with the other teachers, and the headmaster and I looked forward to me being here for a long time.

  Looking back, I knew I shouldn’t have become complacent. After all, I had experienced a feeling of well-being at Christmas before, but since Granny had died festive times were tinged with sadness. I should have known not to be smug.

  It was at the end of February when the bombshell hit. I had arrived home, feeling shivery with a bad cold, when Maisie asked me to come to her house. It was one of Mum’s non-working days and she was dozing in the chair.

  I had a cold feeling in my stomach and I just knew something was up. When we were inside Maisie’s house, she began to cry.

  ‘What’s the matter, Maisie?’ I asked, wondering what had happened to our neighbour to upset her.

  She wiped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I have to tell you something, although your mother has sworn me to secrecy.’

  I suddenly felt sick with fear but tried to keep my voice steady. ‘What is it, Maisie?’

  Maisie kept twisting her hands. ‘I promised not to say anything, Lizzie.’

  I told her to sit down. ‘Don’t worry about keeping anything a secret. I want to know what’s wrong.’

  She looked directly at me. ‘A few months ago your mother came to see me, as she was worried about something.’ She stopped, as if considering whether to go on, then the words came out in a rush. ‘Your mother has a lump on her breast, but she won’t go to the doctor. I begged her to tell you and also to get medical help, but she was adamant it would go away, but it hasn’t and it’s getting bigger. You must have noticed how tired she is and how she’s now working three days a week. Well, today she told me she’s giving up her work as she can’t carry on.’

  I was in a state of shock. I felt as if the ground was shifting below my feet. Everything now made sense, and I had been too stupid to see it.

  ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’

  Maisie looked unhappy. ‘She didn’t want to worry you. She said it was something that would disappear and she would be well again.’

  I left Maisie and went to see Mum. She was awake when I went in.

  ‘Heavens, Lizzie, is it that time already?’

  I went and sat beside her. ‘Mum, why didn’t you tell me about the lump in your breast?’

  She was indignant. ‘I told Maisie to keep it a secret and she should never have said anything. Anyway, the lump is getting smaller and I’m feeling so much better.’

  I made her open her blouse and I was shocked when I saw the lump and how misshapen her breast had become. If this was a lump that was getting smaller, then it must have been huge before.

  ‘I’m going round to see the doctor, Mum, and I hope he can come to see you tonight.’

  She began to cry. ‘I don’t want to see the doctor, Lizzie.’

  I took her hand. ‘You must get treatment. It won’t disappear by itself.’

  Dr Bennett’s wife answered the door when I called at his house, and when I explained everything to her she said he would come round as soon as possible.

  We didn’t make any tea that night in case he arrived, and at five thirty he appeared with his large black bag. Mum began to say there was nothing wrong with her, but he said he would have a look and make a diagnosis for himself.

  Mum went through to the bedroom and I sat on the edge of my chair. Poor Maisie stayed in her own flat, and I reckoned she was too frightened to come in. It had cost her a lot to break her promise, but I was grateful she had.

  The doctor came into the living room, but Mum stayed behind. His face was grave, and I knew it was bad news.

  ‘Mrs Flint should have come to see me when she first noticed the lump. I’m afraid it has either developed into something very serious or, on the other hand, it could be a benign lump. I have mentioned a visit to the infirmary to examine her to see which it is, but she’s adamant she doesn’t want that.’ He stopped and opened his bag. ‘I’ll leave this sleeping draught so she can get a good night’s sleep tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow to make another examination.’

  After he left, I went into the bedroom. Mum was lying wide awake. ‘I told you, didn’t I, Lizzie, that there was nothing to worry about. I just have to get a good sleep, that’s all.’

  Maisie
arrived later, when Mum was sound asleep. I told her what the doctor had said. ‘He never said what treatment he’ll give her, but can you ask him tomorrow when he comes back? Mum says she’s fine, but she’s always lived in this world of denial and she won’t change now.’

  I spent a sleepless night, but thankfully Mum slept soundly, as all I could hear in the darkened bedroom were soft snoring noises.

  The next morning I tried hard to persuade Mum to go to the infirmary.

  ‘Please, Mum, it’s for your own good to get proper treatment, so do what the doctor suggests.’

  She gave me a sleepy look and said she would.

  Maisie was going to be with the doctor and I said I would see him after school, but I set off with my mind in turmoil.

  I tried my best all day to concentrate on my work, but the vision of something seriously wrong with Mum wouldn’t go away, and I was glad when it was time to go home.

  Maisie had made some tea and Mum was trying to eat a shortbread biscuit, but the crumbs kept sticking in her throat, so she gave up and sat quietly sipping her tea. I looked at Maisie and she gave a slight nod.

  I tried to be light and unconcerned. ‘Well, Mum, what did the doctor say?’

  ‘He wants me to go for an examination at the infirmary at the end of the week. I tried to tell him I was fine, but he said, wasn’t it better to know what is wrong with me to stop us all worrying about something that might be trivial?’

  I said that was the best thing to do and I knew I would have to go with her. ‘I’ll ask Mr Drummond if I can stay off so I can go with you.’

  I spent another sleepless night, but the next morning the headmaster was very understanding. ‘Of course you must go with your mother,’ he said.

  On the Thursday morning we set off for the infirmary. Dr Bennett had said Mum would be admitted for a few days, so I had packed a small suitcase with her soap bag, slippers and nightgown.

  As we walked along the street, she said, ‘What a lot of fuss over nothing, Lizzie. I’m only doing this to please you and Maisie, as you’ve both been lecturing me for days.’

  ‘We’re only thinking about your health, Mum.’

  I heard her muttering, ‘I should never have told Maisie.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  She pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and said, ‘Nothing. I didn’t say a word.’

  At the infirmary, a nurse took her into the ward and the doctor met me in the corridor. He was quite a tall man and very distinguished-looking, and I knew this would impress Mum. It was one thing to be poked about by Dr Bennett but quite another thing to be a patient of this aristocratic-looking man.

  ‘We’ll do some tests, Miss Flint, and we’ll let your doctor know the results.’

  I said that would be fine. ‘How will I know when she’s coming home, doctor?’

  ‘We’ll let your doctor know and he’ll be in touch with you. If she’s still in over the weekend, then you can come and see her at the visiting times.’

  She was still in on the Saturday and Sunday, so Maisie and I went to see her. I took a Good Housekeeping magazine and some chocolates, while Maisie had three oranges in a brown paper bag.

  Mum was sitting up in bed when we arrived and I thought she looked really annoyed.

  ‘I’ll be glad when I get out of here.’

  I asked her what the doctor had said, but she said she hadn’t been told. ‘But I’m getting home on Monday, so didn’t I tell you there was nothing wrong with me?’

  I felt so relieved at this. Obviously the lump in her breast was maybe a blocked gland or something equally innocuous. ‘Oh, I’m so glad, Mum, and isn’t it better to know that everything is fine?’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose so, even though I was right.’

  Maisie went to the infirmary on the Monday and took her home. I felt so guilty I couldn’t do it, but I didn’t want to ask for another day off from the school.

  When I arrived home that afternoon, Maisie met me on the stair.

  ‘I saw you coming down the road, Lizzie, and the ward sister told me at the infirmary that you have to go and see Dr Bennett tonight. I didn’t want to tell you in front of Beth.’

  ‘Thank you, Maisie. I think I’ll go right now. He’ll have the hospital report and hopefully I’ll have some good news for Mum when I get back.’

  I hurried along the street to the doctor’s house and waited in his small surgery in the garden. He came in with a folder and I didn’t like his expression. Cold fingers of fear settled in my stomach, but I didn’t try to avoid his gaze. Whatever the truth was, I knew I had to face it.

  He fiddled about with his glasses and finally opened the folder. ‘I’m afraid I have very bad news about Mrs Flint.’ He didn’t look at me but kept turning the few pages in front of him. He then settled a worried gaze on me. ‘The test has come back and your mother has a malignant tumour which I regret to say is too far advanced for surgery. I’m so very sorry.’

  I sat in a daze, like I was in some kind of nightmare. I was almost too afraid to ask him anything. ‘What … what happens now?’

  ‘It’s just rest and care now, and it’s difficult to say how long she will live. She hasn’t any pain at the moment, but when she does I can deal with that. I’ll come round every few days to check on her. Do you want me to tell her or will you?’

  ‘No, no,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll do it, but not at the moment. I don’t want her to know how ill she is.’

  The doctor nodded. ‘Yes, that’s often the best thing to do. However, it depends on the patient. Some people want the truth, but others don’t.’

  ‘I don’t think my mum could cope with the truth, at least not yet.’

  It was raining when I walked home and I was glad, because it covered up my tears. I had to stand for a few moments at the front door of our house to compose myself, and when I entered, Mum was asleep. Maisie looked at me and I shook my head. As she left to go back to her own flat, she patted me on the shoulder.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Lizzie.’

  That night I wrote a letter to Margaret and gave her all the ghastly news but said Mum didn’t know anything so not to mention it when she wrote back.

  The Easter holidays weren’t far off, and I knew I would have to leave the school to care for Mum. I honestly didn’t know what the future held, but when Mum woke up she seemed so bright and cheerful that I found it so hard not to burst into tears.

  ‘Did the doctor get the report from the infirmary, Lizzie?’

  I said he had.

  ‘And didn’t I tell you everything was fine?’

  ‘Yes, Mum, you did, and you were right.’

  For a moment, there was a look of triumph on her face.

  After she went to bed I sat down and made a list of things that needing seeing to. First of all I would have to finish at the school come the Easter holiday, but until then Maisie said she would come in and sit with Mum. Then I had to go to DM Brown’s and tell them that Mum would no longer be working her three days. I would have to see Laura and Pat to warn them not to let my secret out and just to carry on as usual should they come to the house.

  At that point I missed Granny and Margaret so much, but as we had no other relatives I could call on it was all down to me, at least for the moment.

  I can’t remember much about that time, as I seemed to be in a daze, but I do remember being sad at having to tell Mr Drummond that I could no longer work in the school. I wasn’t sure how I stood with not having worked for even a year, but I had no choice.

  Everyone was so helpful and sympathetic. Polly, Jane and everyone in the school were a huge help as I struggled during the last few weeks to hold onto my teaching job and to face up to the reality that Mum wasn’t going to live for much longer.

  But like everything in life, be it anticipated joy or dread, the time arrived when the school was breaking up and it was my last day. The children had only been told that I was leaving to look after my mother, and I was in tears when th
ey gave me a bunch of daffodils. Polly, Jane and Mr Drummond gave me a lovely brooch and they all wished me well. No one said they hoped to see me back at work soon because that would mean Mum was no longer with me, but I was grateful for all their support.

  It was snowing as I walked down Cotton Road on my way home, and although I was crying I knew I could always blame the cold wind and not the heartbreak I felt at this tragic turn of events in our lives.

  27

  THE LAST SUMMER

  It was May 1932 when Margaret arrived, and I had never been so pleased to see anyone as I was to see her reassuring figure appearing at the front door a few weeks after the Easter holiday. I had warned her that Mum didn’t know how ill she was, and she came in with her usual brisk manner and beaming smile.

  Mum sat up in her chair with a delighted smile. ‘Margaret, come and sit beside me.’ As Margaret pulled her chair up close to her, Mum said, ‘You better not sit too close to me because I’ve got this terrible influenza, and I don’t want you to catch it.’

  Margaret gave me a long stare before turning her attention to her stepsister. ‘It’s so good to see you, Beth, and I’m home for good. Gerald won’t be coming back till the end of the year, when we hope to have a long retirement by the sea.’

  I said, ‘I’ll put the dinner on, Margaret, because you’ll be hungry after your long trip.’

  Margaret said she was hungry and I was pleased I had made a pot of broth with cold brisket and potatoes to follow. Mum ate very little, although Margaret tried her best to get her to clear her plate.

  ‘I’ll eat it later,’ she said. It was the usual excuse, as I told Margaret later. It normally went into the bin, I said.

  Margaret said her luggage was still at the station’s left-luggage office and she planned to get a taxi in the morning to take it to her new house in Carnoustie. I saw her looking at the single bed in the living room.

  ‘I brought it through so that Mum could look out of the window and also because this room is cosier than the bedroom,’ I said as we sat around the fire with our cups of tea.