The Quality of Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘Well, never mind, perhaps he will be able to tell us who was involved,’ the policeman said non-committally as he guided them into the building. ‘It doesn’t appear to have been for money, as his wallet was untouched and so was the loose change in his pockets.

  People turned and stared as Sarah, who was still in her wedding dress, and Lloyd, in his smart suit, sporting a flower in his buttonhole, were led through the hospital waiting room and into the lift.

  When they reached Owen’s bedside Sarah gasped in dismay. He was propped up in the bed, his head was swathed in bandages and his eyes were closed. There was considerable bruising and discoloration around them and also a deep gash down one side of his face which had several stitches in it.

  ‘Oh Owen, whoever did this to you?’ she sobbed as she picked up one of his hands that was lying on top of the bedclothes and pressed it against her own face.

  Owen stirred. His eyes opened a mere fraction, squinting painfully in the light, then he closed them again but not before he’d murmured her name.

  Making a visible effort he struggled once again to open his eyes and this time they not only focussed on her but he also even managed to give her a weak smile.

  The policeman who had been standing behind her gently moved her to one side and bent down to speak to Owen. ‘Can you tell us anything about what happened to you, Sir?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I really think you should come back again tomorrow, Constable. Mr Phillips is far too weak to be questioned at the moment,’ the rather severe voice of the ward sister cut in as she came over to the bedside and laid a restraining hand on the policeman’s arm.

  ‘No . . . no, there is something I want to say,’ Owen muttered weakly. ‘I was attacked . . .’ His voice drifted away as he sank back against the pillows, too weak to continue.

  The moment the policeman decided that there was nothing further he could do and had left the ward the sister came back to Owen’s bedside and suggested very firmly to Sarah and Lloyd that it might be better if they also left.

  ‘If you come back in the morning after Mr Phillips has had a good night’s sleep, I am quite sure he will not only be very much better but will also be able to talk to you,’ she assured them.

  When Sarah told Bryn Morgan about the state Owen was in and who she thought might have attacked him the previous night, and why he had done so Bryn looked very grave.

  ‘You know you really ought to be giving the police all this information, Sarah, so that they can check it out,’ he said as they all got into his car.

  ‘You are probably right but I think it is best to wait until tomorrow and see what Owen can remember,’ Sarah hedged.

  ‘Well, let’s hope they get to the bottom of it. That’s if that’s what took place,’ Bryn said dubiously. ‘I can’t think that this Gwyn Roberts would go that far, but then again, I don’t know the chap and you two do. Obviously the police are taking the attack seriously so we can only wait and see what transpires.’

  ‘It was a dreadful thing to have happened,’ Lloyd muttered morosely as he settled himself in the back of the car.

  ‘Indeed it was,’ Bryn agreed. ‘Now, do you want me to take you straight back to your home or do you both want to go back to the church again?’

  ‘It had better be to the church because probably everyone is still there waiting for information about what is happening and we’ll have to break the news that there isn’t going to be any wedding taking place today,’ Lloyd sighed.

  The moment they returned they were plied with questions and there were murmurs of consolation for Sarah. By now she was past tears but she looked so pale and drained that Bryn Morgan insisted that she must go home.

  ‘Lloyd, you will let me know how Owen is after Sarah has been to see him tomorrow?’ Bryn requested after he’d helped Sarah out of his car and had walked with them to their front door.

  ‘Yes, I’ll certainly do that and thank you for all your help today,’ Lloyd said gratefully as he opened the front door and ushered Sarah inside.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sarah spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, her mind in turmoil as she went over and over again what had happened to Owen.

  Somehow she was sure that Gwyn Roberts was responsible for the attack and that he’d done it because she’d turned down his proposal. She felt guilty that Owen had suffered because of her.

  It was late morning before she went back to the hospital and she had to wait for over half an hour before they let her see Owen. He was propped up in bed again, his head still heavily bandaged, but he looked a great deal better than when she’d seen him the previous day.

  Within minutes of her arrival a police officer appeared; not the one who had been there the previous day, but a sergeant who, after a brief greeting, began cross-questioning Owen in a crisp, rather brusque manner. It was obvious that he was determined to extract as much information as he could from Owen about the attack.

  He made no comment when Sarah explained what her relationship with Gwyn Roberts had been, but he noted down that he was about to move to America.

  ‘If that is so and he manages to leave the country before we can apprehend him, then there is probably very little we can do to interrogate him.’

  After he’d left Sarah tried to tell Owen how upset she was that all this had happened. He was equally concerned that it had meant that their wedding had been called off.

  ‘Never mind, we’ve still got it to look forward to and we’ll fix a new date just as soon as you are out of hospital and well enough,’ she reassured him.

  When Sarah told him that she intended to go straight from the hospital to let Bryn Morgan know how he was getting on, Owen immediately became concerned about all the problems the absence of all three of them must be causing.

  ‘Don’t worry your head about that, concentrate on getting better so that you can come home,’ she told him as she made to leave.

  ‘With any luck it might be later today, after the doctor has done his rounds,’ Owen said hopefully. ‘Apart from a huge bump on the back of my head and a few scratches there’s not much wrong with me. I was lucky in some ways as there are no bones broken and no internal injuries of any kind.’

  Owen’s hopes of being discharged later in the day came to nothing. Because of the blows on his head the doctor insisted that there was always the possibility of delayed concussion and insisted that he remain in hospital for another couple of days.

  When he was finally discharged Owen was surprised at how weak he felt and agreed with Sarah that it would be another couple of days before he would be able to go back to work.

  She insisted that he came back to Cyfartha Street where she could look after him and make sure he didn’t exert himself by doing anything too strenuous.

  ‘I don’t think you want a semi-invalid on your hands,’ he protested. ‘I’ll go back to my room; my landlady will make sure I have everything I need.’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ Sarah told him dryly. ‘You moved out of there over three weeks ago, remember? We should be living in our own place by now. In fact, I’ve been wondering if we ought to tell our new landlord that we are not going to need the rooms and that we’ll be staying on at Cyfartha Street.’

  Owen looked crestfallen at the idea of doing that so Sarah relented and said she’d see how things went. They’d definitely re-plan the date for their wedding as soon as Owen felt well enough to do so.

  ‘In the meantime I’ll see what arrangements Bryn Morgan wants to make. If you are at home with my dad then the two of you should be able to manage to take care of each other for a few days and I can help Bryn sort things out in the office,’ she suggested.

  ‘You could always bring home any files that I can deal with and I can work from home for a few days,’ Owen suggested.

  Within a week Owen was back in the office, Lloyd was also feeling much stronger. There had been no further action taken over finding Owen’s assailant, however. Sarah and Owen both remained certain that it
had been Gwyn Roberts but since according to the police he’d already left the country the matter was closed.

  Bryn kept asking what was happening about their wedding and finally Owen was able to give him a firm date for when it would take place.

  ‘It’s going to be a very quiet affair in a register office this time,’ Owen told him. ‘I still want you to be my best man but the only other person there apart from Lloyd will be Alvia Peters, one of Sarah’s neighbours, and she’ll be the other witness.’

  With Alvia’s help, Sarah modified her original wedding dress by shortening the skirt so that it was at mid-calf. She dispensed with both the train and the veil and instead had a tiny cloche hat trimmed with a single flower.

  The ceremony was simple and was over within half an hour. They all signed the register and then travelled back to Cyfartha Street in Bryn’s car to enjoy the spread that Marie had stayed home to prepare for them.

  Lloyd looked tired but happy, relieved that this time everything had gone according to plan. As he stood up to speak, to wish them well and say how happy he felt about what had taken place that day, the glass suddenly fell from his hand. He leaned forward, gasping, clutching at the nearest chair and missing it. He grabbed the starched white linen tablecloth, dragging it from the table and bringing dishes, glasses, food and wine as well as the two-tier wedding cake, all crashing to the ground.

  Panic ensued. Owen tried to move him clear of the debris, Sarah tried desperately to help by trying to lift up her father’s head and putting a cushion underneath it.

  Alvia and Marie tried to collect up or move some of the food and broken dishes which were crunching underfoot as they all did their best to revive Lloyd.

  ‘Fetch a towel, one of you,’ Owen instructed. Taking it, he tried to gently wipe off the residue of food from Lloyd’s face and the front of his clothes.

  Blood was streaming from a multitude of cuts. None of them looked very deep but there were so many it was impossible to tell. Far more serious was the fact that his face was a dingy-grey hue and his breathing so shallow that several times Sarah thought he’d stopped breathing altogether.

  They asked Alvia to fetch the doctor, but Bryn Morgan suggested that as his motor car was outside the door perhaps they should take Lloyd straight to the Royal Infirmary.

  Before he and Owen could reach a decision on how they were going to manage to lift Lloyd up from the floor and get him outside and into the car, the doctor arrived.

  He gave a surprised look at all the mess on the floor, even though Alvia and Marie had managed to clear away a great deal of it so that it was possible for the doctor to kneel down and examine Lloyd. They all looked on anxiously as he folded up his stethoscope and shook his head.

  ‘He’s suffered a stroke and we need to get him into hospital as soon as possible,’ he stated. ‘Has anyone sent for an ambulance?’

  The waiting seemed interminable. Sarah remained kneeling on the floor amidst the debris by her father’s side, holding his hand and murmuring to him although she realised that he probably couldn’t hear her.

  ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and get changed out of that dress, Sarah?’ Alvia suggested. ‘You’ll want to go with him to the hospital and you can’t go dressed like that.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want to leave him, not even for a minute. I’ll be all right.’

  She was still in her wedding dress when the ambulance arrived; still holding on to her father’s hand.

  ‘I’ll bring Owen in my car and we’ll meet you there,’ Bryn Morgan told her as Owen helped her into the ambulance.

  It was almost midnight before Lloyd regained consciousness and Sarah sat by his bedside, watching him anxiously, oblivious to what was going on all around her.

  ‘Look, cariad, there’s nothing you can do here now,’ Owen told her. ‘He needs to sleep. The nurses will watch over him. You are completely exhausted, so let me take you home and we’ll come back again first thing tomorrow morning.’

  Sarah hesitated for so long that Owen thought she was going to refuse. Then at last, with a deep sigh of resignation, she nodded in agreement.

  They went back to Cyfartha Street and not to their new home. Sarah refused to have anything to eat but Owen insisted she drank a glass of hot milk to which he added a small tot of brandy.

  As he tucked her into her own single bed she put her arms round his neck and pulled his face down to hers. ‘I’m so sorry about all this,’ she whispered.

  ‘Tomorrow is another day, cariad,’ he said tenderly as he gently kissed her on the brow. ‘Sleep well, my darling, all will turn out all right, you’ll see.’

  He waited for a few minutes to make sure that she was asleep then he went into Lloyd’s bedroom, collected up a couple of blankets, and carried them back downstairs to the living room.

  Alvia and Marie had cleared away the remains of the meal and all the debris from the floor. The room was so neat and tidy that it looked as though nothing untoward had happened there.

  Owen tried not to think about what difference Lloyd’s stroke was going to make to their future. He was so utterly exhausted and even though he’d been looking forward expectantly to his wedding night he was so tired that he was asleep in no time at all.

  Sarah was still sound asleep when he woke next morning so he decided not to waken her. Instead, he went next door and asked Alvia if she could come in and stay until Sarah woke so that he could go into the office and let Bryn Morgan know what was happening.

  ‘Surely he won’t be expecting to see you?’ Alvia said in surprise. ‘By rights the pair of you should be off on your honeymoon. Going away, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, we were, but this changes everything doesn’t it?’ Owen pointed out. ‘If things had gone according to plan then Lloyd would have been at work. Since he’s not, I need to go in and make sure that someone will be doing his job.’

  ‘Do you mean permanently?’ Alvia said in alarm. ‘Break his heart if he thought he was out of work again. You’ve no idea the state he was in when he lost his job before.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I hope it won’t come to that,’ Owen assured her. ‘That’s why I want to see that there are a few changes made to cover things until he’s well enough to return to work.’

  ‘What do I tell Sarah if she wakes up and wants to know where you are?’

  ‘Tell her I’ve gone to change out of these clothes and that I’ll be back in next to no time and then I’ll take her along to the infirmary to see her father.’

  The curtains were drawn around Lloyd’s bed when they arrived at the Infirmary and for one moment Sarah thought that perhaps he had died because he’d appeared to be so ill the night before. She clung tightly to Owen’s hand.

  Even when the nurse assured them that Lloyd was only sleeping they were both shocked when they moved inside the curtains and saw him.

  Sarah knew he was only in his fifties but he looked like a man of seventy. His face was devoid of colour and his mouth was twisted grotesquely on one side.

  ‘Dad.’ Tentatively, she moved closer and bent to kiss him on the forehead.

  He tried to smile but his lips refused to move and she noticed that he was drooling from one side of his mouth. Helpless, she looked towards Owen.

  ‘How are you, Lloyd?’ Owen asked, leaning down in case he was able to reply but apart from a slight movement of the head there was no response.

  When the nurse reappeared they asked what was happening but she was non-committal and said they must speak to the sister in charge of the ward.

  The sister took them to one side and in a low voice confirmed their worst fears. The stroke had left Lloyd slightly paralysed down one side.

  ‘How long is he going to be like this?’ Sarah asked in a shocked voice.

  The sister shook her head. ‘We are unable to tell you that, my dear. With careful nursing and encouragement he should recover. He will probably never be the man he was, of course, but given time and the right exercises he should
regain all his faculties.’

  Sarah looked at Owen in despair. The news was such a blow that she couldn’t think of what to do or say. It seemed unbelievable that yesterday he’d been a proud, upright man, about to celebrate her wedding, and that today he appeared to be merely a shell without the power of speech or movement.

  ‘Do you think he knows us even though he can’t talk to us?’ Owen asked.

  The sister smiled pityingly. ‘None of us know for certain. We must treat him kindly and with respect in the hope that he does. The reason I moved away from the bed to explain all this to you is because if he does comprehend what we are saying then it could distress him if he heard us discussing his condition.’

  ‘Do people recover?’ Sarah pressed. ‘Have you known anyone who has?’

  Again the sister hesitated. ‘I am sure he will improve, but it is impossible to tell at the moment how much he will do so. He appears to be a very strong, healthy man, so with the right rest and treatment I am confident that he will make some improvement. What happens over the next few days will be critical.’

  ‘Does that mean that he will have to remain here in hospital?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘For the present. As soon as we are satisfied that there is nothing else we can do for him then we will discharge him and you can take him home. He will probably need careful nursing, though, for quite some time to come.’

  They left the infirmary in a daze. Sarah couldn’t put the memory of how ill he looked out of her mind. He seemed to be so old and frail that it made her heart ache.

  Although she said nothing to Owen she couldn’t help feeling that all her optimism about the future had been misplaced; their marriage was blighted before it had begun. First of all her mother had died, then Owen had been attacked, and now that her father was so terribly ill it meant that, once more, their married life was going to be on hold.

  She felt she was burdening Owen with problems that were not really his responsibility. When, haltingly, she tried to say this to him he quickly shushed her to silence.