by Millie Gray
By now they were in the narrow pathway that bordered the very tall hospital wall. Dinah fell against it and started to laugh uproariously. “What’s so funny?” demanded Patsy, who began to rub Dinah’s back after the fit of laughing had set off the coughing again.
“Nothing really,” giggled Dinah, who just couldn’t bring herself to explain to her mother that all her life she’d kept quiet to allow Patsy to hold court freely.
Once through the small wooden green door that took them to the rear of the hospital, Patsy said, “We’ll be able to get into the thoracic unit if we go round to the left. No need to go down to the front door. That place gives me the creeps, so it does.”
“Why?”
“Because,” replied Patsy, indicating the hospital front with a sweep of her hand, “it’s carved into the stones above the portal there that this place was opened up as the Leith Poorhouse!” She now looked all around to make sure she was not overheard – though even if she was it wouldn’t matter. “And,” she went on in a whisper, “they do say that Rachel Campbell – you know, Sam Campbell’s mother that’s a wee bit uppity …”
“I admire her. She’s somebody to look up to,” interjected Dinah.
“Oh aye, she’s done a great job bringing up five bairns on her own. But they say her own mother died here of consumption when it was a Poorhouse. Then her drunken man had her dumped in a pauper’s grave over there.” And Patsy jabbed her thumb towards Seafield Cemetery.
When the X-rays had all been done for a second time and Dinah was now to be examined by a doctor, Patsy was much put out at not being allowed to follow her into the inner sanctum. For her part, Dinah had been grateful to have some rest from her mother’s incessant babbling, though she realised that the prattling was due to Patsy having become a “nervous wreck” (as she put it) ever since Doctor Hannah had said he thought Dinah had a complaint that needed urgent attention. Dinah well understood her mother’s reaction: after all, when Tess was three weeks late in giving birth to Davina, hadn’t she offered to have the baby for her! But even with this insight into how a mother reacts when one of her brood is poorly, Dinah was still finding it hard to cope with her own mother.
The clock on the wall seemed to take five minutes to move on by one minute, and Patsy was on the verge of knocking at the door and asking if there was a problem, when the door opened and a nurse ushered an ashen-faced Dinah out, saying, “You will receive your appointment in the post, Mrs Glass,” before she brusquely closed the door.
Immediately, Dinah put up her hand to warn her mother that this wasn’t the time to ask any questions. Patsy was at a loss what to do and unconsciously she found herself saying, “I think the WVS run a wee tea shop here – d’you fancy going for a cuppa?” Dinah nodded and they made their way down to the small tea station where a well-to-do lady was in command of a tea urn and a bag of digestive biscuits. “You sit there, Dinah,” Patsy suggested as she pointed to one of the three small tables in what could only be described as an oversized cupboard. “I’ll get the tea. Oh look, here’s your mother-in law coming. I’ll just get her a cup too.”
Dinah agreed as Mary looked about her sheepishly. “I ken I shouldn’t hae come. But you’ve been that long. I was so worried. I thought,” she now turned to Patsy who was returning with the tea and three digestive biscuits on a tray, “the two of you might need some … well, ye ken, some …”
A warning glance from Patsy made Mary realise that she should just sit down, drink her tea and discuss the price of bread.
24
The whole family were trying hard to keep upbeat. They nevertheless realised that the removal of a malignant tumour along with half of Dinah’s left lung and some ribs, which (it was thought) would give the remaining half-lung room to breathe, was a very worrying prospect. For Dinah’s part, the worst was the radiotherapy. It was so debilitating that she wished Marie Curie hadn’t bothered to discover it. To be truthful, it wasn’t just the continual radium sickness that was the worst. No, it was the way it had ravished her good looks. Looks that had always been so important to her.
“That you off on seven weeks’ holiday, Tom?” Patsy asked, when he came into the back living room where Dinah was propped up in a chair looking out of the window.
“Think it’ll be you who’ll be having the holiday. And with all you’ve …”
“And Frieda,” interjected Patsy, in the hope Tom would give some recognition to all the hard work Frieda had put in.
But a couple of contemptuous snorts from Tom indicated he certainly wouldn’t. In his eyes Patsy deserved all the credit. “I was saying,” he went on, “that with all you’ve done these last few weeks, keeping the home fires burning, you sure deserve a holiday.” Tom toasted Patsy with a cordial wave before going over and pressing Dinah’s shoulder.
Tom had underestimated Patsy. Wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag her away on holiday as long as Dinah remained as poorly as she now was. She now acknowledged that Dinah had lung cancer – and also accepted Tom’s assurance, based on what Dr Hannah had told him, as Dinah’s next of kin, that with the removal of the tumour along with half her lung Dinah would make a full, though very slow recovery. Patsy wanted to believe Tom. She had to believe him. But as the weeks went by and there was no sign of any real recovery, she was beginning to have nagging doubts. And if she weren’t knocking her pan in, doing so much cleaning, cooking and shopping, she would have too much time on her hands to let her fertile imagination run riot.
Further discussion as to who would be going on holiday was halted when Mary came in with an armful of newly ironed bedding which she immediately handed over to Patsy. “Good drying wind. Took them to that new launderette. Just over the way there. Remember? It used to be an ice cream shop but what a blessing the change is. You just pop your washing in as many machines as you need. Then all you have to do is put your feet up and either just watch it all going round and round till you’re dizzy or else you get out your Woman’s Weekly and, before you know it, the washing’s done. Then into the dryer it gets bunged and finally a wee blaw in the back green when you get back home. And wasn’t I lucky there was a nice wee wind the day. So there you are, Patsy. Got the ironing done, too, listening to Mrs Dale’s Diary,” Mary cackled. “She’s worried about Jim again.”
Everyone laughed. But no one made her feel that her banter was inane or pointless. She was doing all she could to help but, unlike Patsy, she feared the worst. But then Tom, her Tom, had got a wee bit fu’ the night before Dinah got out of hospital and on leaving the Learig pub, he hadn’t gone straight home but had made his way up to the only person he could always rely on, his own mum. She’d only opened the door to him when he immediately broke down. “Oh Mammy,” he had sobbed, holding her tight. “You’ve just got to help me. Help me. Help all of us to be brave.” Once they were through in the living room, Mary had reached down for the poker to stir the embers of the dying fire before calmly asking, “For how long?” Because of his uncontrolled sobbing, Tom’s reply had been almost inaudible but she thought she had heard him splutter, “If we’re lucky just … one … oh, Mammy … just twelve miserable months!”
“Oh, here,” Mary continued, turning to Dinah. “I saw Tess and the bairn going into the shops. She’ll be here in …”
Mary didn’t need to finish as the door opened and in walked Tess. Instead of handing Davina straight over to her mother she placed her on the floor. Tess went over and stood by her mother’s makeshift bed on the settee. Then she held out her arms to Davina, saying, “Come on now. You can do it.”
Without any further bidding Davina staggered across the floor and flung herself into her mother’s arms. “Whenever did she start walking?” Dinah crooned.
“Remember last week when Frieda and Johnny were trying to make her take a few steps?” They all nodded. “Well, when she got home she took four faltering steps and then got such a fright that she just flopped down. But would you credit it? She just wouldn’t walk for her Dad. But he believed
me and reckoned she would be taking twenty steps by today.” Tam and Dinah exchanged a knowing look before gazing up at the ceiling. Unaware of their reaction, Tess continued, “And you know, my clever husband was absolutely right!”
For the next five minutes little Davina was treated rather like a performing seal, being bribed into walking to Patsy for a square of chocolate, to Mary for a biscuit, and finally to Tom for an orange drink.
“You know, I do like it when the family gets together,” Dinah said, glancing all around the room. She had just uttered the words when Crystal and Joe came in.
Joe immediately blurted out, “Dad, have you told Mum the secret yet?”
“Joe! I’m just in the door.”
“But, Dad, it’s at the front door. Crystal and I saw it. And Dad,” he added breathlessly, “Crystal’s bet me that Mum won’t believe it’s yours.”
“Believe what’s yours?”
Tom took up a position in the middle of the floor and, looking staright at Dinah, he announced, “I’ve bought a car.”
“A what?” gasped Dinah, and began patting her chest. “But you can’t drive …”
“I can drive. Passed my test last week.”
“Now, just a minute. Am I having a nightmare?”
Tom went over to the settee and took hold of Dinah’s hand. “I’ve not been truthful with you of late.”
“That so?” replied Dinah, pulling her hand away from Tom’s.
“No. You see, when I told you I was taking night classes on two nights to get a bit of spare cash when I was finished at Norton Park School, Andy …”
“Now, how should I have not guessed that Mr Chips would have something to do with all this?”
Tom ignored his wife’s remark and went on. “Andy gave me driving lessons in his car. He told me I was quick on the uptake, so I passed my test first time last week.”
“Okay,” Dinah said curtly, “but that doesn’t explain the car …”
“A Ford Popular it is at that,” chuckled Tom.
“A car!” Dinah continued. “An American car that there’s a three-year waiting list for?”
“Only two years, now that they’ve started to manufacture them down at Doncaster.”
“A car that costs about three hundred and fifty pounds?”
“Ah. But our car is five years old. Belonged to a friend of Andy’s, it did, but he was buried last week so he’s got no further use of it.”
“But what about his family? Don’t they want it?” asked Patsy.
“No. There’s only his wife and she doesn’t drive. However, she was adamant that it had to go to a good home – you know, to someone who would be good to it and not abuse it.”
“So that’s the sob-story. But how much siller did you have to cross the grieving widow’s palm with before she let it go?”
Tom took a deep breath before whispering, “A hundred and fifty quid!”
“What?” exploded Dinah, sitting bolt upright on the settee and then bringing her legs around to allow them to rest on the floor. “Are you telling me that we’re now up to our eyeballs in debt to the tune of one hundred and fifty quid? Some bloody grieving widow!”
“We’re not in debt. I’d already saved up fifty pounds – which included Crystal pitching in her ten bob overtime every week for the last three months. But when Andy’s pal died quicker than we thought he would, Andy, the good pal that he is, offered to give me a no-interest loan for the hundred pounds I was short. I’ll pay him back at a pound a week. And that’s only ten bob each from Crystal and me.”
No one said a word. They all knew Dinah was seething. Tom always did what Andy thought he should be doing and they agreed with Dinah when she demanded, “But why does Andy want to help you like this?”
“No me. You!”
“Me?”
“Aye. You see, when I told him how much you were missing getting out and about, he thought that if I could first learn to drive and then get my licence he would lend me his car to take you anywhere you wanted to go. He said that under the circumstances you wouldn’t want him to be chauffeuring you.”
Dinah’s was not the only head to bow in embarrassment. Mary, her mother-in-law, had also thought there was something not quite right about the relationship between Andy and her Tam, so she too felt more than a little sheepish.
Tom had tried to explain it to them, but they just didn’t understand, that during those five long years in captivity, when they had always had to look out for one other, to share with each other – or die – a bond had grown up between the two men. And it would always exist. Especially for Andy, who had never married because the lassie he would have married had been killed on active service in France.
“So the car is to take me out for wee trips, is it? How many does it seat?”
“Officially – four. But we’ll be able to squeeze in six if two are bairns.” He now looked at Patsy and Mary, who he could see were wondering whether they were to be included in these trips and so he added, “Or like bairns!”
Dinah was now smiling. She rose and slipped her arm through Tom’s. “Suppose we’d better have a look at this limousine before I wake up and I find it’s all been a dream.”
The whole family piled out into the street. Proudly, Tom took up residence in the driver’s seat, with Dinah in the front passenger seat. All the others, not to be outdone, took it in turns to sit in the back. Patsy was delighted to shout over to Tom: “That’s me, your Mammy, Myra and Joe all in, and we’re quite comfortable.”
Dinah chuckled, “They’re no able to breathe but they’re quite comfortable. Just as well Elsie’s out with her pal – or should I say a lumber?”
“So you like it?”
“Aye. Where’ll we go to first? I’ve only been back and forth to the blooming hospitals these past few months.”
“How about after tea we go on a Mystery Tour?” suggested Mary.
“Aye, let’s go to North Berwick and I’ll pay for the fish and chips when we stop at Port Seton!” crooned Patsy.
Tom and Dinah exchanged an amused look. Of course! Where else would a Mystery Tour take you to but North Berwick?
When the car set off on its inaugural mystery drive, Joe was sitting on Mary’s knees, as she didn’t sport the ample stomach of Patsy, who had Myra on her lap. This arrangement had come about because Dinah thought that, since Crystal had stumped up for the car, so that her mother could be taken out, she’d every right to be included in the first trip. Accordingly, Crystal was now securely crushed between her two grandmothers.
While the others were all busily getting ready for the jaunt, Dinah had time to talk to Crystal. “Thought you might have had other things to be saving for – forbye the car,” said Dinah, patting the space beside her on the couch.
Shaking her head, Crystal obediently sat down beside her mother. “Not really.”
“Thought you and Bing might be … you know.”
“He’d like us to get engaged … och, but I’m not sure. He’s nice and he’s comfortable to be with but …”
“You still carrying a torch for Sam Campbell?”
Crystal’s face fired. “No. I don’t really care that he’s coming home in September.”
“No,” Dinah thought to herself, “but you cared enough to find out when he was due home. She looked at Crystal, the plainest of all her children and yet the one you could always depend on, and she wished her daughter would stop longing for a Prince Charming – who, to be truthful, very rarely ended up with Cinderella!
The run to East Lothian proved a great success. Everyone on board was more excited than a child on its birthday. North Berwick was so very beautiful. Tom and Dinah had sat on a bench and looked out over the picturesque sea, marvelling at the mystical Bass Rock that sat serenely a few miles off-shore. “How many artists do you think have painted this scene?” Tom asked Dinah.
Dinah just shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t really care. What mattered to her was that she was out in the wide world again. That sh
e was free. That she could see once more the wild and romantic sea that had always mesmerised her. That she would get safely back home. Right back home to their own front door – and all courtesy of the car.
All too soon it was time to head for home – to pile into the vehicle again and make for the little fishing village of Port Seton where newly landed fish would be expertly fried in batter and served up to them with golden crunchy chips. The scrumptious feast would then be washed down with Red Cola.
Having left Port Seton, Tom thought he would give them a treat and take them for a run around East Lothian. Somehow, because Tom really didn’t know the district, they landed up in Haddington. On leaving Haddington, they headed towards Tranent and had just left there when Tom realised that he would have to tackle a winding downward road that was unfamiliar to him. At the bottom of an incline, the car suddenly shuddered. The engine stuttered. Then the car ground slowly to a halt.
“Oh, blast!” was the cry from Tom. “Now, Andy did say that it sometimes does this. Don’t panic. No need to worry. Right, Crystal. You and Granny Patsy get out and start pushing from the back and I’ll get out and push, with the door open, from the front. When the car engine roars into life again – and it will – you must run as fast as you can and jump in.”
“Jump into a moving car? Who do you think I am? Yon flying Dutch woman, Fanny what’s her name?” moaned Patsy.
“Look, it’ll be quite all right, Patsy. You just make sure you push from the back on the left-hand side. Because that’ll mean you’ll be jumping back into the car ahead of …”
“Mugsy! And what’ll happen to me if I don’t get round fast enough or Granny’s ample rear-end blocks the door?” demanded Crystal.
“The two of you have to be really quick. Because once I’ve got the car running again I can’t stop. Here,” Tom now pulled a sixpence from his pocket and handed it to Crystal, “If anything goes wrong – but it won’t – you can catch a bus home at Levenhall.”
