Stoney Beck

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  Even though all of Market Street had become blurred, Sarah recognized that nice Mr. Pudsley from the Hare and Hounds running toward her. He must have thought she couldn’t make it but she’d show him. She was nearly there. If she hadn’t felt so awful and Mr. Pudsley hadn’t looked so serious, she would have laughed. She used to go with Mummy and Daddy to the Hare and Hounds every Sunday for lunch and remembered Mr. Pudsley smiling a lot and always rubbing his hands together. He was kind to her and didn’t ignore her like a lot of people did. But he wasn’t smiling now, even though she raised her hand so he wouldn’t worry. She reached the surgery at last and because she couldn’t muster enough breath to speak, and felt horrible, she pointed to the house to let Mr. Pudsley know where she was going.

  “It’s all right, Sarah,” she heard him say. “I’ve got you, love.”

  She vomited all over his nice clean shoes and didn’t remember anything else except he had tight hold of her so she wouldn’t fall.

  Chapter Ten

  Ada Malone watched through the shop window as the ambulance pulled up outside the doctor’s surgery. As the trolley was eased out of the house, she saw Walter Pudsley lean over it, then tear up the street toward the shop. He bounced along like a wound-up rubber ball in a red and grey cardigan. The bell over the door jingled madly as he plunged inside.

  “Dear God in heaven, Walter, are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?”

  “It’s Sarah,” Walter said between gasps. “Sarah Fitzgerald. That’s her on that stretcher. They’re taking her to the hospital.”

  Ada was torn between watching events down at the doctor’s place and getting a glass of water for the man she’d had her eye on for years. “You’ll be in there with her if you don’t watch out,” she said, concern for him as well as for Sarah making her voice unusually gruff. “Sit yourself down on that barrel and catch your breath. Honestly Walter, sometimes I think your brains are in your feet.”

  Obediently, Walter sat on the barrel and took deep breaths, then sipped some water out of the Styrofoam cup Ada gave him. “I’m out in front of the pub watering the flowers when I look up and see her. There she is, weaving along the pavement. For once, the street was almost deserted. I tell you, Ada, I’ve never run so hard in all my life. Just as Sarah keels over, I catch her. She collapses in my arms.” He held out his arms to stress the point. “Now, I ask you, what was Sarah doing going to the doctor’s on her own. Practically dead on her feet she was. And where in God’s name was Biddy?”

  Jenny came out of the storeroom in time to hear the tail end of Walter’s remarks. She placed the box of Mars Bars and Milky Ways on top of the newspapers and moved to join them at the window. They both began talking at once, each wanting to be the first to tell her the news. She screwed up her eyes as she stared down Market Street. “You mean Sarah’s in that ambulance?”

  “That’s right,” Walter said. “And she’s on her own. Not a soul with her.”

  Ada grabbed hold of Jenny’s arm. “Would you be a love and go with her? Just for the company?”

  “You mean to a hospital? In that ambulance? I couldn’t do that Sarah hardly knows me. Don’t you think—”

  “No, no, it’ll be all right. I’d go myself but the solicitor’s coming to go over the books. She’ll be scared to death by herself. You know how she is.”

  “No, I don’t,” Jenny said, “I don’t know much about her at all.”

  “But she needs someone with her, and she’s taken a real shine to you,” Ada said. “Everybody knows that.”

  Jenny’s fingers trembled as she pulled at the strings of her apron, her mind suddenly back in Charlotte months ago when she’d dialed 911 for an ambulance for her mother.

  Ada was already pushing her out the door. “They’ll be taking her to Craighead. Get a taxi to bring you back. I’ll pay for it.” She gave Jenny one more little shove. “Hurry, child, else they’ll be away without you.”

  Jenny sprinted down the street and reached the ambulance while Dr. Hall talked to the two uniformed attendants. “Hang on a minute,” she said, breathlessly. “Mrs. Malone from the shop said for me to go with Sarah. Is that OK?”

  “Yes, yes,” Dr. Hall said. “It’ll help a lot if you go. I’ve rung Sarah’s house but nobody answers. I’ve already rung the hospital but I’ll give them another ring to tell them you’ll be with her. This way you won’t have to do much explaining.”

  “Come on, love,” the chubby ambulance attendant said. “In you go.” He held out his hand and helped Jenny up the steps.

  She hesitated in the ambulance doorway as an unexpected feeling of unease raced through her. She half turned to back out but it was too late. The attendant gave her a final gentle shove toward one of the seats alongside the gurney. “Don’t forget to buckle up,” he said, watching while she did it, then gave her a thumbs up before slamming the door.

  Sarah lay on the stretcher, with a red blanket over her, her eyes half-closed. “I’m glad you’re coming,” she wheezed. “I’ll be all right now.”

  “Yes, honey,” Jenny said, her mouth suddenly parched. “You’ll be just fine.” She held on to Sarah’s hand as she felt the ambulance pull away from the sidewalk. “Do you hurt?” she asked, trying to get her mind off herself and at least show some sympathy for Sarah.

  “I walked a long way,” Sarah said. “Got so tired and hot. I was sick all over Walter.”

  “It’s OK. You couldn’t help it. Walter knew that. He was real concerned and so was Ada.”

  Sarah s eyelids drooped. “If I go to sleep, don’t leave me.”

  “OK, but hush now. I’m right here.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and within a couple of minutes, her mouth slackened and her breathing deepened. Jenny gently let go of her hand and leaned back in her seat, eyes focused on the ambulance ceiling while she took deep breaths and tried to ease her own racing heart. There’d been those other rides, the first one four months and three thousand miles away. Instead of Sarah, her dad now lay on the stretcher while Jenny’s mother sat beside him clutching the emaciated claw which was his hand. Jenny sat beside her mother, comforting hand on her shoulder, as the ambulance crept through Charlotte’s bumper-to-bumper five o’clock traffic. There was no need to hurry, none at all, because her father was already dead. Jenny blinked and the person on the stretcher changed again. Now her mother lay there, and it was she, Jenny, who clung to her hand. Her mother was not breathing, but Jenny begged her not to die, told her over and over she was sorry for the things she’d said. This time the ambulance didn’t creep but tore, sirens screaming, through the city’s early-morning streets. It had been a hopeless race. As they pulled into the hospital’s emergency entrance, and the doors were yanked open, the medic in the ambulance with them shook his head.

  The solemn tolling of a bell yanked Jenny back to the present. She unsnapped her seat belt and raised up to look out the small window. They were passing St. Mary’s and there in the churchyard stood Father Woodleigh, deep in conversation with two nuns. He wore jeans and a shirt as if he were an ordinary person. He looked lean and fit, and Jenny couldn’t help but feel a secret knot of pride, couldn’t help but wonder how life would have been if things had been different, if he and her mother had married. He looked toward the ambulance and Jenny waved to him through the dark window. Even though he couldn’t see her, it felt good to know he was just a few yards away. One of the nuns crossed herself as she looked at the ambulance, then the church disappeared from view as the ambulance turned the corner. Just the sight of the priest made Jenny forget her resolution not to see him again. She would go again to Mass first chance she got. The very thought of it made the ride in the ambulance a tad easier to bear.

  Ten minutes later they drove through the hospital gates and pulled up in front of the emergency entrance. The attendant jerked the door open and pulled out the steps. He smiled at Jenny and held onto her hand until she was safely on the asphalt. The hospital was a huge rambling building, probably hundreds of years o
ld. Perhaps the parking lot had once been a courtyard or maybe even a formal garden. The building all but surrounded Jenny, closing her in on three sides. It reminded her of pictures of workhouses she’d seen illustrated in some of Charles Dickens’ books. Gargoyles leered down at her, ready to pounce from the gutters above the fourth floor windows. The building was nothing like the multi-storied state-of-the-art hospitals she was used to in Charlotte. A huge black cloud obscured the sun and the first drops of rain began to fall. Fighting the urge to bolt, she stood to one side while the gurney was lifted out of the ambulance. Sarah was awake, even reached for Jenny’s hand as she walked alongside.

  The attendant pushed the gurney through the open doors. “See, here’s Accident and Emergency. You’ll probably have a bit of a wait.” He gave Jenny a wary look. “You all right? You look a bit off color yourself.”

  Jenny gave a weak smile and nodded. “I’m OK.”

  He leaned over Sarah and patted her shoulder. “You comfy, love?”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll be all right now. I’ve got Jenny with me.”

  The attendant turned and looked at Jenny. She saw his doubtful look and could have sworn he shook his head. Was her unease showing that much? He glanced around the almost empty room. “Looks like a slow day so maybe this won’t take long. You just sit tight here.” He picked up a magazine from a table close by and handed it to her. “Have a glance at this.” He looked again at Sarah. “See, she’s drifting off again.”

  There were other people in the large room but Sarah was the only stretcher case. A man sat in the corner with a little boy on his knee. The boy had a bloody bandage tied around his leg and held onto a soccer ball. In the corner a man had his arm around a woman, her head resting on his shoulder. Jenny stared unseeingly at the magazine’s pictures, every minute or so, looking up at Sarah. When she eventually opened her eyes, she reached for Jenny’s hand and held on tight.

  Within half an hour a woman in a white coat came toward them, clipboard in her hand. She pulled curtains round the gurney, instantly making a cubicle, then began asking Jenny questions. No, she was no kin to Sarah, just an American over here on holiday.

  “Was no one else available to come with her?”

  The doctor scribbled away while Jenny told her Sarah’s parents were dead. There was a live-in housekeeper, a sort of guardian. She’s been there for years, since Sarah was little. She cooked meals and things. Jenny hated to add that last part, feeling it put Biddy on a pedestal, yet was suddenly mindful of Andy’s words. If the Social Services thought Sarah wasn’t being properly cared for, they might whisk her away to a place far away from home. The questions went on. No, she didn’t know Sarah’s exact age, but she did recall her saying she was Catholic. When the doctor asked why she had accompanied Sarah when she was practically a stranger, Jenny said she did it as a favor because nobody else was available. Also, she was under the impression Dr. Hall had explained all this on the phone, and could she please leave now.

  “The information from Dr. Hall was mainly regarding Sarah’s condition,” the doctor said, her voice suddenly cold at Jenny’s seeming indifference. “It would help if you’d stay until we get her settled in a ward.” She beckoned to an attendant, then handed him the clipboard which he slipped in a wire pocket at the front of the gurney. He motioned to Jenny to follow then he was away down the hall.

  Jenny pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her sweaty palms. She half-walked, half-ran, in an effort to keep up with the man as he raced along a maze of corridors, farther and farther from the way out. The hospital may have looked different on the outside from Charlotte hospitals, and even inside wasn’t quite the same, but still the same old hospital smells were here. Formaldehyde, Lysol or some similar disinfectant, mixed with carbolic soap and Clorox. In there too was the sweet sickening odor of anesthetic as well as a hundred nameless medicines. Food carts were parked at intervals along the corridors filled with the same smell of overcooked food that permeated the halls of hospitals in Charlotte.

  The attendant turned to her, his eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. “Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet.”

  “I guess so,” Jenny rasped, one hand to her throat. “I don’t like hospitals much and I can’t seem to keep up.” She undid the top button of her blouse and fanned herself with her hand. “Is it always this hot in here? I’m burning up.”

  The man slowed his pace to a crawl then took her hand and placed it on the handle bar of the gurney. “You lean on this trolley, love,” he said. “We’re nearly there. See there it is just ahead. Ward 9A.”

  It was the largest ward Jenny had ever seen, beds about eight feet apart stretching down each wall. The attendant whispered something to a nurse who pointed to the empty bed near the entrance; they both turned to look at Jenny. The man left the gurney and guided her to a chair just inside the doors. She forced her mouth into some sort of hideous grin then flopped into the chair. “Sit here till you get your sea legs,” he said. “Put your elbows on your knees and hang your head forward while I get you a drink.” A minute later he was back with a glass of water. “Take a few sips of this. It’ll make you feel better.” The man was an angel.

  Jenny nodded her thanks and waited until the thumping in her chest eased. She returned the attendant’s thumbs up and watched him walk out of the ward. A few minutes later, a young nurse handed her a cup of scalding tea.

  “Sorry you don’t feel well,” the nurse said. “There’s a waiting room with comfy chairs just outside the ward on the left. Soon as you feel up to it, perhaps you’d wait in there until we call you. Shouldn’t be too long.”

  The waiting room was empty except for a group in the corner, huddled together, some wiping their eyes. From their conversation, Jenny gathered they were grieving over a dying mother. From the table she grabbed a dog-eared copy of Nature and flicked through the pages. She sat on the edge of the chair nearest the door and forced herself to concentrate on yet another story about the ozone layer and how the earth was heating up.

  Chapter Eleven

  Biddy sat on the side of the bed and kneaded her throbbing temples as she stared at the empty gin bottle on its side next to her teeth and glasses. There was a piece of broken glass on the floor by the night table. She must have knocked the glass off the table in her sleep or more than likely it was Sarah. The girl was clumsy as an ox. The last thing Biddy remembered was Sarah whining on about how mummy and daddy would hate to see her drunk like that. The nerve of the girl. But Biddy would make her pay. She put on her glasses, then reached for her slippers at the foot of the bed. Grabbing hold of the bedpost, she pulled herself to her feet, and tottered out of the room.

  “Sarah,” she called down the stairs. “Bring me a cup of tea and two aspirins. My arthritics are acting up something awful.”

  No answer. Sarah was down there somewhere, probably sulking in a corner. Biddy made her way down the hall to Sarah’s room. The bed was made as usual. Biddy sniffed. Why did the room always smell so much fresher and cleaner than the rest of the house? She held on to the banister as she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The note standing upright between the salt and pepper shakers caught her eye. She ran a shaky hand across her brow as she read the large childish scrawl. Sarah had set off on her own to walk all the way to the village and if anything happened to her, Biddy would get the blame. The headlines in tomorrow’s Daily Courier flashed in front of her: Bridget Helen Biggerstaff charged with neglect.

  She put her head in her hands. It wasn’t as if Sarah was seriously ill. Waiting another day to see the doctor would not have made a scrap of difference. Biddy pulled her last bottle of Bombay gin from under the sink and stared at the picture of Queen Victoria on the label. The queen ignored her and stared off into space. Biddy poured herself a large one. The hair of the dog always got her back on track.

  More in control now, she yanked open the catch-all drawer and rummaged through until she found the ice pick the Fitzgeralds had used be
fore they’d bought the new fridge with the icemaker. She slipped on her robe and went out to the car. She gave the tire one quick jab but nothing happened. It took ten minutes of pushing and twisting before she heard the hiss of air.

  She leaned over the car’s boot as her breath came in little uneven gasps. Her back ached from bending over the wheel and her head still throbbed.

  There was a soft rustle from behind and Biddy sneaked a look over her shoulder at the tree. She felt a prickle at the back of her neck as the limbs swayed in a nonexistent wind and the rustle of invisible leaves grew louder. She stumbled back to the house and up the steps, slamming the kitchen door behind her. After fumbling with the chain, she scooted through to the dark hallway. It had no windows except for the stained glass in the fanlight and down the sides of the front door. She huddled on the first stair until the phone rang ten minutes later.

  “So, you are at home.” Ada Malone’s self-righteous voice came down the line. “We all wondered. What in the name of heaven, we asked each other, was Biddy Biggerstaff thinking of to let Sarah walk all the way to Dr. Hall’s by herself. Even Walter Pudsley commented and you know how diplomatic he is.”

  Biddy clutched the receiver with both hands, while she listened to Ada Malone go on about Sarah vomiting all over Walter’s shoes just as she collapsed into his arms outside the doctor’s surgery. Dr. Hall had called for an ambulance to take Sarah to Craighead hospital.

  Biddy pulled out a chair and sat down. “She couldn’t have been that bad off,” she said into the phone. “All she had was an upset stomach. You know how her kind are. They come down with every ailment under the sun.”

  “Sarah’s been ill for some time, Biddy,” Ada said. “I’ve mentioned it to you before. Maybe now something will be done.”

  “Something is being done,” Biddy snapped back. “Dr. Hall’s been up here to see her. I was planning on taking her in today but last night the arthritics started acting up something awful. The painkillers didn’t help much so I took a couple of sleeping pills.”