by Janet Tanner
‘Bryn!’ she shouted. And at the very moment he turned and saw her, she went under the bus.
‘She’ll be all right, Helen,’ Paul said. ‘What can possibly happen to her?’
‘I don’t know. She’s a sensible girl, but …’ Helen broke off, unwilling to admit she had this really bad feeling.
‘Look – why don’t we go out? Reuben’s on call, your gran’s on the mend, and you could do with taking your mind off all this. There’s nothing you can do.’
‘I know.’ But she knew that as long as Jenny was missing she wouldn’t be able to forget. ‘Well, if we do go out, can we at least call round first to see if there’s any news?’
He pulled a face. ‘If you want, I suppose.’
‘I do want.’
‘You, Helen,’ he said, ‘are one of the most caring GPs I’ve ever me.’
She pulled a face back. ‘I hope it makes up for my other shortcomings. I’m losing far too many patients one way and another.’
‘This one will turn up, I promise you.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
But the bad feeling persisted.
‘Jenny! Jenny – can you hear me!’
His voice seemed to be coming from a long way off, a million miles away, above the singing in her head, above the thick whirring background noises. She tried to move and could not. She was wedged firmly and her leg was doubled awkwardly beneath her. And there was pain – so much pain. Everywhere, it seemed, and yet concentrated in her back and in her loins, as if the ache that had been there all day had suddenly exploded.
My baby! she tried to cry out. But no sound came. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even cry.
‘We’ll get you out, Jenny, don’t worry. Hold on!’
His voice was even fainter than before, the roaring in her ears was louder, like the tide roaring into a cave on the shoreline, washing over her in waves, obliterating everything.
To Bryn, it seemed to take for ever. In fact, the emergency services were on the scene within minutes, but then everything was moving in slow motion.
Jenny was trapped underneath a couple of hundredweight of solid metal. She was unconscious, mercifully perhaps, but that was not all. She had gone into labour. The full force of the situation hit Bryn with the same force as if he too had been hit by the bus. He’d found her – thank God! – but that was small compensation now. He’d found her and he might be about to lose her again. Irretrievably. And the baby that he’d only just found out about. Not that the baby mattered to him at this moment. Only Jenny mattered. And Jenny was in God-alone-knew what condition.
Helpless, able to do nothing whatever to help free her, Bryn turned away, staring up into the deep blue of the sky above the rooftops, and let out a silent howl of agony.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Heather replaced the receiver and turned to Steve and Glad, who stood in the hallway behind her. She was paper white and trembling. From the one-sided conversation they had been able to hear, Steve and Glad had gathered that Jenny had been found, but also that something was dreadfully wrong.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Glad asked. Her hand was clutching her heart.
Steve said nothing, simply went to Heather and put his arm around her. He knew how much Jenny meant to Heather and why. She had told him her secret long ago, before they were married.
‘She’s been in an accident,’ Heather said, trying to keep her voice steady and utterly failing. ‘She’s in hospital now, and they’re doing an emergency Caesarean.’
‘Oh my Lord!’ Glad said.
‘I have to go to her,’ Heather said. ‘Can you take me, Steve? Bryn’s there, but I have to be with her too.’
‘Of course,’ Steve said. ‘Vanessa …’
‘I’ll look after Vanessa,’ Glad said. ‘Don’t you worry about her. But you must let your mum know, Heather.’
‘Yes … yes, of course … oh, I can’t think straight!’ One thought did fight its way to the surface. ‘I don’t want her coming, though. Not after what she’s done.’
‘You mustn’t talk like that,’ Glad said. ‘She did wrong, of course, but she loves Jenny just like you do. She’s always been a good mother to her. You mustn’t let something like this make you forget all the good things.’
Heather closed her eyes briefly. At the moment she could think of nothing beyond the indisputable fact that Jenny would not now be lying in hospital undergoing emergency surgery if it hadn’t been for Carrie and her desire to dominate every aspect of their lives.
‘Glad’s right, Heather,’ Steve said gently. ‘We all make mistakes.’
‘The trouble with Mum is that she won’t admit it,’ Heather said harshly.
‘All the same …’
‘I know, I know. All right, we’ll go up and tell her before we leave. I just hope she won’t want to come with us.’
But even as she said it she knew it was a vain hope. Trying to keep Carrie away would be like King Canute trying to hold back the tide.
In fact she was in for a surprise.
‘Do you want to come with us, Mum?’ she asked, holding out the olive branch in spite of herself. But Carrie shook her head.
‘You know I can’t abide hospitals.’
‘But don’t you want to see Jenny – and the baby?’
‘If it’s all right, you mean.’
Heather swallowed hard. Carrie had voiced her unspoken fear that the baby might not survive.
‘Is that what you want, Mum?’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘It would solve everything, wouldn’t it, if the baby died. We could all pretend nothing had ever happened.’
But Carrie denied it vehemently. ‘How can you say such a thing? It’s my grandchild, isn’t it?’ Heather’s eyes met hers and she amended: ‘All right – my great-grandchild. It amounts to the same thing.’
If she hadn’t been so worried, Heather might have found that funny. As it was, she was in no mood for laughing.
‘No, I won’t come,’ Carrie said again. ‘That boy will be there, won’t he?’
‘Yes, I expect he will,’ Heather said, profoundly relieved. The thought of a confrontation between Bryn and Carrie was not a pleasant prospect at the best of times. Carrie had one more surprise for her yet, though.
‘You can tell our Jenny from me that if she wants to bring the baby home here, she might as well. Joyce Edgell knows about it anyway, so there’s no point trying to hush it up any more.’
Heather stared at her in amazement and saw Carrie exchange a look with Joe. ‘We’ll manage somehow. Just as long as they’re both all right, that’s all that really matters.’
‘They’ll be all right, m’dear,’ Joe said comfortingly. The very real bond between them, sometimes obscured by Carrie’s bossy ways, was clear to see.
‘We’ll get going then,’ Heather said, feeling suddenly as if she had intruded on a private moment.
Carrie followed them to the front door.
‘Heather …’ she caught at her daughter’s sleeve, ‘you won’t tell her … will you …’
‘About the letters? She’ll have to know, Mum.’
‘But not now. Don’t go upsetting her now. If she’s poorly …’
‘Give me credit for some sense, Mum,’ Heather said.
‘And you will give her our love?’
‘Of course I will.’ But she was wondering if that would be possible. The last she had heard, Jenny had been unconscious.
She half ran down the path to the car, nervous energy igniting every nerve and muscle. All she wanted was to be with Jenny, for Jenny to be all right, and for their relationship to return to something like normal.
‘She’ll be all right, m’dear,’ Joe said again as Carrie came back in. ‘Things’ll turn out, you’ll see.’
‘Will they?’ Carrie felt as though the whole of her world was falling apart and she was floundering in a whirling mill pond of emotions, each clamouring for her attention: the desperate anxi
ety for Jenny – and for the baby, though until now she had never thought of the baby as anything but an unwanted obstacle to Jenny’s future and her own well-ordered life; dread of the now inevitable scandal, the wagging tongues attacking the bastion of her respectability and the triumphant glances that would follow her down the street; and guilt. Guilt that even at a time like this she could still feel anxiety over what people would say and most of all guilt at what she had done.
All her life Carrie had forged ahead, taking control of situations, doing what she thought best without questioning what she saw as her God-given right to do so. So sure had she been of her own wisdom and the rightness of her decisions that she had found a way of justifying to herself even the most outrageous actions.
Not this time. Carrie had known, even before Joe had confronted her with it that this time she had overstepped the mark and done the unforgivable, and the knowledge somehow cast doubt on all her other decisions over the years. They had been the stepping stones laying out the path to what was happening now, each one of them inexorably paving the way to disaster. She had sought only to do what she believed was best for her family and this was how it had turned out. For the first time, Carrie acknowledged there was no-one to blame but herself.
‘Oh, Joe, I’ve been such a fool,’ she said.
He patted her hand, his old, placating self once more.
‘You’m all right, m’dear. And so will they be. You’ll see.’
‘Joe Simmons – I love you,’ she said. And there were tears in her eyes.
Bryn stood looking down at the tiny scrap of life in the incubator. So small, so incredibly vulnerable, and yet so perfect. His baby. His and Jenny’s. As yet, no-one would promise him that she would survive. He hoped desperately that was because they were afraid to commit themselves. The thought of that miracle of life, fluttering with each rise and fall of the small chest, being extinguished, was too terrible. Until a few hours ago he hadn’t even known he was going to be a father. Now, hope and longing for her filled his world. His daughter. The word itself was a miracle. Bryn bent his head and for the first time since he himself had been a child, he prayed.
Jenny floated up through layer upon layer of cotton wool towards consciousness. Fragments of awareness came to her like haunting dreams and with them, blinded washes of emotion. She tried to grasp at thoughts, force them to take form, and failed. Each time they slipped away from her, elusive as butterflies.
Someone was holding her hand. She could feel the warm pressure of fingers on her own. She forced her heavy eyes to open. A white ceiling, swimming with myriad molecules. The effort was almost too much for her. She closed her eyes again, moving her head restlessly on the pillow.
‘Jenny?’
The sound of his voice brought conscious thought within reach once more, though still she could not grasp it, could not believe what seemed more like a dream than reality. She turned her head toward the voice, opened her eyes again, and his face swam into focus. Wonder filled her, and a tide of happiness. Suddenly, for the first time in weeks – months – Jenny felt safe.
‘Bryn?’ she whispered through dry lips.
His mouth was on her hand where those comforting fingers lay.
‘Oh, Jenny – thank God!’
Heather’s nervous energy propelled her along the hospital corridor just as it had propelled her down the path of her mother’s house. Throughout the hour-long journey it had kept her on edge, so that the bouts of black silence when she was unable to speak were punctuated by repeating the same things over and over again, and her hands fiddled ceaselessly, picking at bits of dry skin around her nails. Now she went all of a rush along the corridor, Steve trailing behind her.
A nurse, all starched linen, intercepted her.
‘Can I help?’
‘Jenny Simmons?’
‘Are you a relative?’
‘I’m her mother.’ It seemed the most natural thing in the world to say.
‘If you’d like to take a seat …’ The nurse indicated a row of chairs lined up against the wall.
‘Can’t I see her?’
‘She can only have one visitor at a time.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Obviously Bryn must be with her. ‘She’s all right though?’
‘Just take a seat. I’ll get someone to come and talk to you.’
‘What about the baby?’
‘I’ll get someone to come and talk to you,’ the nurse repeated.
Steve sat down but Heather couldn’t. She paced. Each time the doors to the ward swung open she jumped in anticipation. At last a white-coated doctor approached.
‘Mrs Simmons?’
‘Mrs Okonski,’ she corrected him.
‘Jenny’s mum, anyway.’
‘Yes. How is she, Doctor?’
‘Considering what happened to her, she’s in pretty good shape. No serious damage as far as we can tell. But she did take a very nasty knock and she had undergone a Caesarean section to deliver her baby. It’s all pretty traumatic and what she needs now is plenty of rest. Needless to say, we shall be keeping a close eye on her over the next few hours.’
‘And the baby?’
‘Holding her own. As yet it’s too early to say. Would you like to go in and see Jenny for a few minutes?’
‘Can I? The nurse said …’
‘If it’s just yourself, and provided you don’t excite her, I think I can allow it.’
‘It’s all right,’ Steve said. ‘I’ll wait here.’
The curtains were drawn around Jenny’s bed. As the doctor pulled them aside for Heather to go in her nerve almost failed her, all that eagerness superseded for a moment by nervous awkwardness and a twist of gut-wrenching terror.
Bryn, sitting beside the bed, holding Jenny’s hand, looked up and saw her.
‘Jenny?’ he said. ‘It’s your sister.’ And that, too, of course, was entirely natural.
Jenny turned her head and Heather saw with a shock that one side of her face was swollen to twice its usual size with a great angry discolouration running its entire length. But there was no sign of the rejection she had been so afraid of. Jenny smiled. And though in the puffed mask it might have appeared almost grotesque, Heather thought that smile was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.
‘Oh, Jenny,’ she said. ‘Oh, darling Jenny. I’ve been so worried!’
And to her surprise, Jenny whispered: ‘I’m sorry, Heather.’
‘What do you mean – you’re sorry?’ Heather was fighting back tears. ‘We’re the ones who should be sorry! Oh, darling – what have we done to you?’
‘I’m OK,’ Jenny said. Her voice was just a husky little whisper. ‘I’m OK – now.’ And she managed another smile, tremulous, this time at Bryn. ‘Can I talk to Heather? Alone?’
He nodded, bending over to kiss the unbruised part of her face before getting up.
‘You won’t go away again though, will you?’
‘I’ll be just outside. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.’
Heather took his seat, pulling it close to the edge of the bed.
‘Jenny …’
‘Heather.’ Jenny’s hand found hers. ‘Tell me the truth. The baby … ?’
‘Is doing as well as can be expected.’
‘Are you sure? She’s not … dead … and they won’t tell me?’
‘I’m sure. It’s touch and go, Jen, but at the moment she’s holding her own.’
Jenny’s face crumpled. She closed her eyes and a tear rolled out from the corner of the one that was not swollen.
‘Thank God!’ She was silent for a moment, then she opened her eyes again. ‘She will be all right, won’t she? She’s got to be all right!’
‘I think she will be, yes. I expect she’s a little fighter – like you. And Jen … look … there’s going to be no more pretence. When she’s well enough – when you’re both well enough – you can bring her home.’
‘But Mum …’ She still thought of Carrie as Mum and always would.
‘I know that,’ Jenny said. ‘I’ve always known that.’
‘But there may be some things she’s done that are even harder to forgive.’
‘Mum is Mum!’ Jenny said. ‘She’s always been the same, and I expect she always will.’
‘And me?’ Heather said after a moment. ‘Can you forgive me?’
‘Oh, Heather, I know now how you felt, don’t I?’
The nurse was hovering.
‘I think that’s long enough. Jenny needs to rest.’
‘Heather …’ Jenny caught at Heather’s sleeve, ‘I just want you to know. When it happened – the accident …’
‘Yes?’
‘I was coming home.’
For the next two weeks, Jenny’s baby’s life hung in the balance and then one day Jenny got the news she had been waiting for. She was to be discharged and the baby – whom she had named Sarah – was to be transferred to the Special Care Baby Unit in Bath.
Jenny travelled with her in the ambulance and saw her safely installed – that tiny, most precious thing in the whole world – and then David drove her home.
Walking back into the house she had last seen almost three months before was the strangest feeling. Then, she had felt bereft, lonelier than at any time in her life. Now, though she was returning alone, she had so much! Sarah might still be in hospital – oh, how Jenny ached for her, to be able to cuddle her, hold her! – Bryn might have returned to his base, but she knew they were both out there and it was only a matter of time before they would all be together.
They had talked about marriage as he sat beside her bed, holding her hand, but curiously Jenny had felt no sense of urgency for that. She knew now, with a certainty that came from deep within, that married or not he was not going to leave her and Sarah, and the time for hasty propriety was over. Now they had all the time in the world.
