‘He wanted to come, he really did,’ she almost whispered. ‘It was me, not him. I wanted to be sure about bringing him back home.’
‘Well, what was stopping you then?’ Dana’s mammy took a look at her daughter’s face and knew instantly what she was thinking.
‘Dana, you cannot change your past. You are who you are. A girl from a farm on the bogs who has done very well for herself, being a nurse and all. But I will tell you this, if he is a man worthy of you, that won’t bother him one little bit. It’s who you are when you’re with him that will matter, not where you were born. And yes, I know what’s going on in that head of yours. The talk of a wedding would have been wild, it would have got as far as Sligo, but so what? He might even have liked it. Found it good craic an’ all. Unless of course ’tis us ye are ashamed of?’
In a few words, Nancy had made Dana feel truly foolish. She had voiced her fears and made them sound ridiculous. She felt stupid and elated all at the same time. ‘Mammy, I could never be ashamed of you. Shall I bring him home at Christmas? Would you like that?’
‘Christmas? Do you have the time off?’
‘Not exactly. The week after. And if Teddy can get it, I can invite him and you can meet him then.’
Her mammy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Well, fancy that, our Dana bringing a doctor home. I’ll have to invite Father Michael round for tea and let Mrs Kennan know to stock up.’
And once again, both women were laughing, this time in each other’s arms.
*
Teddy signed the cheque at reception and scanned the bill once more before he handed it over.
‘That all seems to be in order,’ he said as the hotel manager handed him the receipt.
‘Thank you, Dr Davenport. Is Mrs Davenport packing?’
‘Yes, she is having one last check around the room.’
‘Ah, yes, the ladies always do. What would we do without our efficient wives.’
Teddy felt himself begin to blush and, turning, looked out of the large bay window and pretended to admire the flowers and the fountain on the front lawn. ‘Your gardener does an excellent job,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘I shall tell him you said so, Dr Davenport. He does enjoy hearing feedback from the guests.’
Teddy was saved from any further attempt at small talk by the sound of Sarah Makebee coming up behind him.
‘I’m here, darling,’ she said breathlessly as she crossed her perfectly gloved hands in front of him. ‘Are the bags in the car?’
‘They are,’ said Teddy as he took out a cigarette and lit it.
‘Oh, Dr Davenport, here is the gardener himself, perhaps you would like to pass on your comments. It is a great morale booster for the staff.’
Teddy hesitated. The one thing he’d noticed about being a doctor was that people treated you as though you were royalty. It was not an aspect of the job that he disliked, in fact he liked it a great deal. It was just that at this moment he was feeling very uncomfortable. A woman with red hair had walked across the car park and for a split second he had thought it was Dana. It was a reminder of his other life. His real life in Liverpool with Dana and at St Angelus. His having cheated on Dana for the very sophisticated Nurse Sarah Makebee would be frowned on by almost everyone. He would not be forgiven for a very long time. Dana was popular. He was popular, but that was all about to change.
While Sarah slid elegantly into the leather upholstered front seat of the car, Teddy walked over to the gardener, who almost dropped his wheelbarrow as he approached.
‘Lovely garden. The flowers are a delight. Must be a lifetime’s work to maintain all this.’ Teddy swept his hand to take in the huge borders and immaculate topiary.
‘Thank you, Dr Davenport. I’m from Liverpool, you know.’ The news that a doctor was staying at the hotel had obviously spread.
‘Yes, I did detect the accent,’ said Teddy with a twinkle in his eye.
‘I moved here after the war, when I was demobbed. I like the quieter way of life up here, couldn’t stand all that noise and bustle in Liverpool. It looked worse after the bombs than some of the battlefields I had been on. Mind you, I’m off to visit the sister and her husband tomorrow. I’m to help clear the rubble away from one of the churches. My old church, as it happens. All this time and there’s still bomb rubble all over the place. Unbelievable. I visit twice a year, always glad to get back here though. Anyways, I hope I don’t bump into you. St Angelus is the last place I want to find myself.’
‘I don’t want to see you either,’ Teddy said, shaking his hand. He was back in his car and down the drive within minutes.
‘You seemed keen to get away,’ said Sarah as she applied her lipstick. She almost made Teddy slam on the brakes in shock at her next sentence.
‘Teddy, darling, these past few days, it’s been lovely and everything, but do you mind terribly if we don’t tell anyone?’
‘Well, no, no,’ Teddy spluttered. ‘Why?’
Sarah opened the clasp of her handbag, slipped her compact inside and clicked it shut.
‘Well, it’s just that my boyfriend is starting at the hospital next week. He’s a registrar in London and if he knew, well, he wouldn’t be very happy.’
It was a few seconds before Teddy could speak. ‘And here was I, the big I am, thinking you would be telling everyone and I would be the most unpopular man in the hospital for cheating on Dana.’
Sarah laughed. ‘Oh heavens, no, why would I do that?’
Teddy felt hurt. He was confused. Had he wanted her to do that? ‘Well, I’m not sure. Girls generally do.’
‘Really? Not in my experience. Not my sort of girl.’
Silence fell between them as things began to fit into place. To Teddy’s surprise, Sarah had turned out to be far from a virgin and had in fact taught him a thing or two between the sheets. It was news to Teddy that women actually had orgasms. He had rather stupidly thought that sex was something women endured. He had arrived in the Lake District with the vestiges of youthful naïveté still clinging to him, and now he left it well and truly a man.
‘Well, if that’s what’s happening, I take it you won’t mind if I pick up where I left off with Dana?’
‘Oh God, no,’ said Sarah. ‘Suits me fine.’
Teddy thought he should feel better than he did. He had enjoyed a fortnight like none he had ever known. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d made love to Sarah, but it hadn’t been lovemaking. Not really. It was nothing more than sex and a polite regard for each other and a few shared meals. ‘Oh, and the walk,’ Teddy said out loud.
‘What, sweetie?’ asked Sarah.
‘Oh, nothing, I was just thinking aloud. Sorry.’
In his mind’s eye, Teddy saw Dana’s face. She was laughing and lifting her face up to him to be kissed. As he slammed down through the gears to turn a corner, he realized he had just nearly lost the thing in the world that was most precious to him. He had almost thrown away his happy future and the perfect wife. But somehow, because he wasn’t the catch he thought he was, Sarah was more interested in her present boyfriend than him. What a lucky break, Teddy thought.
He had already decided that when Dana’s boat docked he would be waiting for her. And next time she went home to Ireland, no matter what she said, he would be with her.
36
‘Can we have an X-ray for this wee lass, please,’ Dr Mackintosh said to Pammy. ‘Bilateral tib and fibs.’ As Pammy turned to go and collect an X-ray request form from Doreen, he whispered, ‘Dad is fine, the car is fine, but this little lass will be lucky to walk straight ever again. Father said he braked to miss a dog and she slammed bang into the dashboard. Her nose is broken to smithereens and her legs don’t look great.’
The screams of pain from the young girl had filled the casualty department. The sight of her own blood-covered body had terrified her as much as the inability to move her legs. She had fought against having the diamorphine so Dr Mackintosh had tried to personally calm t
he fear away. He held her hand and spoke to her in soothing tones in the hope that if she was pacified, the drug could take hold. He couldn’t inject any more and feel safe doing so. Finally, the screams had subsided, replaced with pathetic sobs, and as a result the department was quieter once more.
When Pammy reached the clerk’s hatch, Doreen’s face was full of concern. ‘Is that little girl going to be all right?’ she asked as she handed the form to Pammy along with some carbon paper. ‘Don’t forget to put the carbon paper between both sheets. We need three copies.’
‘The poor kid, only five years old. Have you got a pen, Doreen? I’ve lost mine somewhere, again.’
‘Nurse Tanner, I don’t believe you have ever had one! No one can lose as many pens as you do.’
‘Oh, I have! Honestly, I nearly bandaged one inside a broken arm yesterday.’ Pammy shot an anxious look towards the cubicle where the little girl was now dozing. ‘I do it all the time. Thank God I always notice, or the patient does, just in time.’
Doreen shook her head and smiled. Having worked on casualty for so long, she knew just how much happened more by luck than good management.
‘The little girl will live, but Dr Mackintosh says it will be a miracle if she ever walks straight again. These new cars, they are so fast and dangerous,’ said Pammy. ‘Me own dad wants one. Me mam says never. She wants a telly first, but they can’t even afford that. Me dad says that when a telly can reach fifty miles an hour with no trouble at all, like the cars do now, she can have one.’
‘Well, at least the little girl will live, that’s the main thing,’ said Doreen.
Dr Mackintosh handed the girl’s distraught father a cup of tea and sat down on the hard wooden chair next to him. ‘Your wee lass is going to be fine once we’ve operated. But we won’t do that just yet. First job is getting on top of her pain and I want some clear X-rays.’
The girl’s father, smartly dressed and well spoken, could barely hold back his tears. ‘I don’t know how it happened, Doctor. I wasn’t even driving very fast.’
‘You drink your tea. We will take her straight up to the children’s ward from X-ray and we can have a proper chat just as soon as I know the extent of the damage. I know it wasn’t your fault and no one is blaming you.’
Anthony patted the smart man gently on the shoulder then looked up as a woman ran through the casualty doors carrying a child in her arms. She headed straight for Pammy.
‘Nurse, Nurse, he pulled the chip pan down on top of himself!’ She was screaming and casualty flew into action, just as it always did when a burns case came in, which it did about once a day.
‘I told him the chips weren’t done, but he’s always hungry, he couldn’t wait. Help him! Help him quick!’ the mother screamed.
Anthony looked at the clock on the wall. He had arranged with Sister Therese to visit Lily at St Chad’s in less than an hour. To see how she was, nothing more. The memory of her tear-stained face in the graveyard after her brother’s funeral haunted him. Her paleness accentuated by the black mourning clothes, her vulnerability as she’d waited quietly while he came over to talk to her. He’d wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but of course he hadn’t. Today he would be able to see how she was. But unless someone came to relieve him on casualty, it was never going to happen.
*
Lily didn’t hear Sister Therese enter the room or see her approaching. She heard and saw very little. Her mind was preoccupied with memories and pain and she lived almost in her own world. A world where the nuns woke her and Katie, where they fed the two of them, sent Katie to school and allowed Lily to sit in the chapel or her spartan room. She spoke, but not often. Ate, but not much. Cried, all day every day at first, and then with periods of quiet, anguished guilt and regret in between.
‘Lily, you have a visitor.’ Sister Therese left a moment of silence for Lily to reply. There was none and so she continued. ‘It’s Lockie. He came by the other day and I told him to come back today. He’ll be waiting over the road, I imagine.’
She took Lily’s cardigan down from the wardrobe and held out the sleeves for her to slip her arms into.
‘Come on, up you get. ’Twill be nice to have a chat. He can tell you what’s going on down at the processing plant. Give you all the gossip. There is a world out there, Lily, and it’s still turning round and round.’
Lily looked up in surprise. Sister Therese had shown her nothing but sympathy and kindness, but now there was an edge to her voice. Lily didn’t want to see Lockie. The thought of walking as far as the church gate was exhausting. She had nothing to say. No interest in the McConaghys or the plant or the gossip or anything else. Did Sister Therese not understand? Joe was dead and buried. The world had stopped. Sweet, brave and so-grown-up-beyond-his-years little Joe, with his fair hair and bright blue eyes and all his trusting innocence and unquestioning, perfect love, was dead. The sob came before the tears; it always did.
‘There, there. Come on now, stop the tears. You are worrying us all sick and making yourself ill, you know that, don’t you? And do you think Joe will be happy up above, looking down on you with your crying all the time?’
Sister Therese had wrapped her arms around Lily’s shoulders. She pulled her in towards her and hugged her tight, like she always did. The tears soaked right through her habit. Always a nun and never a birth mother, she felt that God had put her there, in that place, to absorb Lily’s pain. To carry it into church, damp on her own heart. To lift it up to God and hand it over into his care. ‘Take the weight of this sadness, it is too much for her to bear alone,’ was the prayer she said five times a day as she knelt, her shoulder still cold and wet with Lily’s tears. ‘Take away her guilt, oh Lord,’ was the second prayer Sister Therese uttered, for Lily could not stop blaming herself for Joe’s death.
She waited for Lily’s sobbing to subside, then gently pressed her. ‘Lockie has come to see you. Now that’s a friendly thing for him to do, is it not? And that nice Dr Mackintosh is coming to see you today too. Did you remember that?’
Lily nodded. She had. He was a kind man. As she recalled his words in the graveyard after the funeral, she felt a lifting of the heaviness.
‘I will come and see you at St Chad’s, if that would not be intruding. Just to check up on you. To see if you are well.’
‘But I’m not sick,’ she’d replied.
‘Well then, maybe I could just come and visit. To reassure myself that you are well. Could you bear that, do you think?’
*
Lockie watched Lily’s every step as she walked towards him. Her hands were thrust into the pockets of her cardigan. Her head was bent and the wind lifted her hair and blew it about her, all but obscuring her face. Her feet barely left the floor as she went, as though the effort was too much. The air of dejection she carried about her brought a lump to his throat. This was not the Lily he had known for all of his life. Lily with her jaunty step and bobbing ponytail and the wide, welcoming smile that he’d become used to each time he opened the door at McConaghy’s. This cowed figure was so low, so troubled, so full of pain. He had expected that, but not this stumbling ghost of the Lily he had once known.
His heart stopped as a tram came trundling into view and she appeared not to notice. ‘Lily!’ he shouted. She failed to hear him. ‘Lily!’ he shouted, louder still. There was no recognition.
He looked over at the face of the tram driver, but the driver wasn’t looking back.
‘Lily!’ Lockie roared. And this time, without waiting for a reply, he ran. There was no time to think, not a moment to consider his actions. Lily was walking into the path of the tram and he had to act.
He screamed her name as he covered the ground between them, running faster than he had ever done in his life. He kept his eyes focused on her stumbling form, on her windswept hair, and thanked God her pace was slow. With his lungs fit to burst from the exertion and his heart pounding in his chest, he heard the bell of the tram ring furiously in protest. But he had n
o time to look. He had to reach Lily, he had to be by her side. Everything now made perfect sense. He had been the worst kind of fool not to have known it earlier. The heartache he could have saved her from, the love he wanted to give her, the home he was desperate to provide for her.
‘Lily!’
This time she looked up. The tram bells rang again and she saw Lockie on the tracks. Her hands flew to her mouth in disbelief as, with one leap, he was beside her, hands on her shoulders, both of them staggering backwards. People in the tram stared out of the window in amazement. The driver waved his fist. Passengers shook their heads in disbelief.
Lockie placed both of his hands on his knees and bent over, pulling in long gulps of air. ‘Lily, I thought you was done for there, I did.’ Aware of the insensitivity of this remark, he quickly added, ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. That was a stupid thing to say, Lily. I’m sorry.’
He expected her to turn and walk away, but instead she said, ‘Lockie, your cap, it’s on the track.’
He spun round, checked that the tracks were clear and ran back to retrieve it. With a quicker step, Lily followed.
‘How ar’ ye?’ he asked as she drew near. He reverted to the safety of the greeting used by the Irish community he had lived among for all of his life. ‘Are ye well?’ Again, he could have bitten out his tongue. ‘I’m sorry, I’m a stupid eejit, but you already know that, eh, Lily?’
Lily nodded. She almost smiled at the ridiculousness of his question. How was she? She had never been worse.
‘People always say when they’re feeling grand, don’t they?’ Lockie filled the silence with impulsive words. ‘But they don’t like to say when they are the other way, you know, not so grand. It’s all right to say, “I’m top of the morning,” but you never hear anyone say, “It’s the worst day of me life.” Why do you think that is then?’
He snapped a twig off the privet hedge and began pulling the leaves off one by one.
‘Thanks for coming.’ It was all Lily could manage in response.
The Children of Lovely Lane Page 43
