Ron had been most hospitable, treating him like an old pal and inviting him back the next week and he had promised to go because he had enjoyed their company. It was good to get out amongst friends. He had never found out if Alf Melville survived the war, though Alf had been his best friend for so long. It was a shame that they’d been separated so near the end, for they’d been through so much together and it hurt not to know what had happened to him. But he would likely be demobbed and home by this time, making a play for every girl in Elgin. Well, that was something he would never be doing again, for no girl would look at him now, not with a face like Dr Jekyll after he changed into Mr Hyde.
Neil’s thoughts veered to Olive again, wondering what had made her give up her studies at medical school. From the things that were said while they’d all been talking tonight, he had gathered that she’d gone to France just after D Day, not long after he had gone across himself, so she hadn’t had time to qualify as a doctor. She had been absolutely set on it before, so what had happened?
Although she was lying in bed with her husband, Olive was thinking about Neil. Over the course of the evening, she had been forced to admit to herself that she still loved him, in spite of his grotesque face – which did not repulse her now as much as when she had first seen him. This time, she loved him for himself, not for his looks, as she had done before. When she had seen him back to the hospital, neither of them saying anything personal, she had been tempted to tell him how she felt about him . . . but only for an instant. She was married to Ron, she had been happy with him until Neil came back into her life, and she would be happy with him again – when her cousin went away.
A small sigh at her side had her on the alert at once, ‘Is anything wrong? Do you want a sleeping pill?’
Touching her cheek with his hand, Ron said, ‘I’m OK, stop worrying. It crossed my mind just now that Neil and I make one complete man between us. If he had my face, or if I had his legs . . . you’d have a real husband.’
She turned to kiss him, ‘I have a real husband, one that I wouldn’t change for anything. You should know that by now.’
‘I can’t help feeling . . .’
‘Don’t, then. If Neil’s going to upset you, I’ll tell him not to come any more.’
‘No, no, I like having him here. It wasn’t his fault I got moody. In fact, he cheers me up more than anybody else. I’ve been feeling a bit down all day, that’s what it is.’
‘Will I ask Doctor Peters to have a look at you?’
‘He was here this afternoon, he often calls in when he’s passing. Look, Scottie, I’m fine, so just relax.’
She closed her eyes. She had been quite prepared to stop Neil from visiting but Ron seemed to enjoy his company and she would have to keep a tighter rein on her feelings when he came in future.
Neil’s visits, at Ron’s instigation, were now twice weekly and Olive looked forward to them as much as her husband. She could talk and laugh with him without revealing anything of her true feelings and it was getting easier all the time to act naturally when he was there. She was pleased that Neil’s company seemed to help Ron, whose moods had stopped lately, his good humour carrying over from one visit to the next, and she sometimes found herself hoping that Neil would never be sent home.
‘Driver was telling me today that Neil’s to be having his next skin graft,’ Ron remarked one day. ‘I won’t see him for a while and I’m going to miss him.’
Olive looked at him in concern, ‘There’ll come a day when he’s discharged, you know, and you’ll never see him again.’
‘Oh, I know that, and I’ll have to put up with it but he makes me feel . . . I don’t know, maybe it’s because we’re both in the same boat, having a handicap we’ll never overcome . . . but I feel lucky when he’s here. I have a wife to look after me . . . and I shouldn’t think he’ll ever find a girl to . . .’
‘He has a mother who’ll look after him,’ Olive broke in. ‘When Gracie’s brother and his wife were killed in the Blitz she was left to look after their daughter Queenie and she put her through school and sent her to university, even if it must have been a struggle for her financially. She never complained once, that I know of.’ Recalling the things she had said to Queenie, Olive came to an abrupt halt.
Having already been told about this, Ron grinned, ‘I know you were a proper bitch at that time, but by God! You’re an angel without wings now.’ His smile faded. ‘I don’t know how I’d have got on if it hadn’t been for you. It’s a girl like you Neil’s going to need but they’re not ten a penny.’
She gave a faint smile, ‘It’s just as well, isn’t it?’
Six weeks later, Olive was surprised that Ron was not in the kitchen when she went home but she hung her cloak up on the usual hook before going through to the bedroom. He was lying on the bed but the colour of his face told her that he was not just sleeping. Hurrying over, she felt his pulse, barely noticing the tumbler on the chest by the bed, and her heart came into her mouth when she could scarcely feel a beat at all. Bending over him, she tried to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation, but there was no response. Panicking now, she ran to the farmhouse and asked Mr Lord to phone the doctor and, as he gave the operator the number, his wife, a homely, comfortably plump woman, said, ‘Is something wrong with Ron? I’d better go back with you.’
When they went in, Olive felt her husband’s pulse again but this time it had stopped altogether, not even the feeble beat she had picked up before. Turning to the farmer’s wife, she whispered, ‘He’s gone.’
‘Come through to the fire and sit down, m’dear.’ The woman took her arm and led her into the kitchen. ‘Have you got any brandy? You’re as white as a sheet.’
While Mrs Lord was looking for the bottle of brandy in the cupboard, Olive spotted the letter on the mantelpiece with one word on the envelope. ‘Scottie.’ Suspecting what it was, she grabbed it and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron.
‘Here you are, m’dear.’
The spirits calmed her a little and she accepted the cup of tea which she was handed in a few minutes. ‘I should have been here with him,’ she said sadly.
‘You couldn’t have done anything. It’s been his heart.’
Sure that it had not been his heart, Olive kept silent. If she could only find out what was in the letter . . . ‘I’ll have to go to the lavatory.’
She almost ran to the outhouse at the bottom of the small garden and put the hook over the staple to lock the door. With shaking hands, she drew out the letter and opened it.
Dear Scottie,
Please don’t feel guilty about this. I’ve thought it over carefully and it’s the best thing for everybody. I know you still love Neil, it’s in your eyes every time you look at him and he loves you, too, and needs you. You have made me very happy since you married me, and I am grateful for that, but it’s no life for a girl as young as you. All I ask is that you marry your Neil and that you think of me sometimes.
God bless you both, Ron
‘Oh, Ron,’ Olive whispered, feeling that she had been slowly strangled, ‘I’m so sorry!’
After a moment, she went back inside, her heart aching for a man she had never loved, but who was as dear to her as if she had.
When Dr Peters came, she went through to the bedroom with him, Mrs Lord remaining discreetly in the kitchen, and after hearing that Olive had found her husband lying on the bed and that she had tried to revive him, the doctor made a brief examination then pursed his lips. Certain that he had guessed what Ron had done, Olive held her breath.
His head suddenly shot up, as if he had been deliberating something and come to a final conclusion. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he said quietly, ‘I think you know as well as I how your husband died, Mrs White?’ Colouring, she hung her head and he went on, ‘Shall we keep it just between the two of us? I know that I am risking my own career but I think we can get away with it. Mr and Mrs Lord have seen me here a few times . . . oh, it was purely social calls but they
don’t know that and, to be quite honest, Ron’s heart was not very strong. He could have lasted another year, perhaps not even that, so . . . do you understand?’
‘But you can’t . . .’
‘It will save you a lot of embarrassment, my dear. I know that he’d been worrying about something for some time and I should state on the death certificate that he died while the balance of his mind was disturbed but I will make it out as “cardiac arrest”, which is what it came to in the end, after all, isn’t it?’
Olive’s conscience wouldn’t let it rest there. ‘It was all my fault though I didn’t think he knew. I fell in love with someone else and . . .’
He held up his hand, ‘Yes, I suspected that. Come now.’ In the kitchen, he said to Mrs Lord, ‘Look after her, she’s had a deep shock. I should have told her that Ron’s heart was a bit dodgy.’
The woman nodded, ‘I did wonder why you kept calling.’
Olive was trembling violently when she sat down. Ron must have taken an overdose of the sleeping tablets that she had got for him once and which he had never used, that was why the empty tumbler had been there. If only she had known what was in his mind, she would have taken them away and disposed of them and now, even though he had taken his own life so that she and Neil could marry, he had driven a bigger wedge between them than ever. For the rest of her life she would blame herself for Ron’s death.
Chapter Thirty
1947
Why was Olive being so strange with him? Neil had posed this question to himself several times in the three months since Ron’s funeral. It had started on that blustery, showery day in March, when he had hung back until she thanked the people who had attended – those of the hospital staff who could be spared, long-term mobile patients who had known Ron and some who were conveyed to the cemetery in wheelchairs – and when she finally came to him, she had been very curt. ‘Thanks for coming, Neil,’ was all she had said, then excused herself to go and talk to the minister.
He had wanted to let her know how sorry he was about Ron but she hadn’t given him a chance. He realised that she must have had a dreadful shock when she found her husband dead – a heart attack, Mrs Lord had said – and that she would take a long time to get over it, but he had hoped to comfort her a little, to let her know that she wasn’t alone, that he would provide a shoulder to cry on any time she wanted one.
She had started working full time at the hospital a week later and had come to see him once or twice after his last graft but she hadn’t invited him to the cottage when he was fit enough to go. He had toyed with the idea of turning up unexpectedly one evening and had discarded it on the grounds that she would probably hate to be pressurised, so he would just have to be patient, give her another few months.
The weeks passed slowly for Neil and he was overjoyed when a young nurse came in one afternoon when he was lying on top of his bed having a rest and told him there was a visitor to see him. Expecting it to be Olive – though she usually just walked in – he was smiling broadly when the door opened once more, but his breath was taken away when he saw who entered.
‘Hey, you lazy bugger!’ Alf Melville grinned as he walked over to the bed. ‘You’re always taking things easy.’
His heart too full to joke, Neil exclaimed, ‘Oh, Alf, it’s good to see you. How did you know where I was?’
Chuckling, Alf tapped his nose, ‘It’s a long, long story, Neil boy.’ Then his mood changed, ‘No, it’s quite simple, really. On my way home after I was demobbed, I couldn’t get you out of my mind, so I popped in to see your mother before I went to get my bus to Elgin.’
Mentally thanking his lucky stars that he had written home some time ago, Neil said, ‘So what have you been doing since I saw you last?’
For the next hour, they compared notes about the ordeal of the final weeks of the war, amazed that they had both been injured in the battle for the Sachsenwald. ‘I came out of it better than you, though,’ Alf said compassionately. ‘I was only in hospital for a week.’
‘Oh, well, I was luckier than a lot of them,’ Neil sighed.
Looking at his watch, Alf made to stand up, ‘I’d better go before they think I’ve taken root here.’
‘Stay till you’re thrown out,’ Neil begged. ‘I’m going to tell you something that’ll shake the pants off you.’
Alf settled back, his face alight with interest. ‘Go on.’
‘I’m thinking of getting married again.’
‘Ach, is that all? I knew you would, one day.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know who the lucky girl is?’
‘It’s bound to be a nurse, you don’t meet anybody else.’
A huge grin transforming his scarred face, Neil was almost hugging himself with glee. ‘You’re right, it is a nurse, and her name’s Sister White and, if you’re a good boy, I’ll take you to see her.’
‘What’s she like? Cross-eyed, bandy-legged, or what?’
Knowing that Alf was teasing, not implying that no decent girl would look at him now, Neil spluttered with mirth; he was looking forward to seeing the shock on his friend’s face when he found out who the girl was. ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ he giggled, reflecting that it should be all right to take Alf to the cottage because Olive couldn’t think he was trying to corner her if he had somebody else with him.
‘Your mother was telling me Queenie got married,’ Alf said now, giving Neil a peculiar look.
‘Aye, I was happy about that, she was a nice kid.’
‘I used to wonder if you . . . well, if you fancied her a bit. Was she the one that let you down?’
Neil smiled, a little sadly, ‘I thought she had, but it was . . . a misunderstanding.’ And that had been Olive’s doing, he recalled, in surprise, but he could understand her motive now and forgive her. ‘Anyway, Queenie’s very happy being in South Norwood again helping her Les to run a little shop he started, though I believe things are pretty tight for them and she’s speaking about trying to finish her BA course so she can get a teaching job to help out.’
‘And your mother said Patsy married a Canadian.’
‘Yes, I’d the shock of my life when Mum told me that. I’d always thought Patsy would end up being an old maid for she never went out with boys before, that I knew of. Still, she seems to be enjoying married life in Montreal, going to all kinds of parties and nightclubs, would you believe?’
‘It takes some believing, she was always so shy. I don’t think she ever spoke more than a few words to me any of the times I was staying in Aberdeen.’
‘Mum sent me a photo . . . I’ve got it here some place.’ Neil rummaged around in his locker for a moment then pulled out an envelope. ‘That’s their house.’
A low whistle issued from Alf’s lips. ‘Some cash there, by the look of it.’
‘Aye, her Jake’s pretty well off. She landed on her feet.’
After a brief pause, Alf said, a trifle hesitantly, ‘Your mum didn’t say anything about Olive. I wonder if she’s changed as much as the rest of us?’
Neil had difficulty in keeping a straight face but he was saved from having to answer by the entry of two nurses with the tea trolley and Alf rose to leave, ‘I told my mother to expect me when she saw me, so I’d better look for somewhere to sleep, but I’ll come back to see you after I’ve got fixed up and had a bite to eat.’
‘I’ll take you to meet Sister White tonight, then.’
‘OK, I’ll look forward to it.’
While he was having his supper, Neil thought over the last bit of their conversation. Alf didn’t appear to have changed much but the rest of them certainly had. Pasty, who used to be as timid as a mouse was having a high old time in Quebec; dear little Queenie, once so effervescent, was buried in a little back street shop; he, himself, was much more serious; but the biggest change of all was in Olive. She had been a calculating, pampered madam at one time, but she had roughed it as a nurse, faced the horrors of war, married a man who couldn’t have been able to make love t
o her and had looked after him tenderly until he died.
Neil’s reflective mood changed. Alf was in for the shock of his life tonight when he met Sister White.
In the early evening, the two friends presented themselves at Olive’s door. ‘Good God!’ she exclaimed. ‘Alf Melville!’
‘Christ, it’s Olive Potter!’
Laughing fit to burst, Neil corrected him, ‘Sister White. Now are you asking us in, Olive, or are you going to leave us standing out here?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. What am I thinking of? Come in, come in. I was feeling a bit down, if you must know, so I’m really glad to have company.’
At first – having realised that Olive must have married if her name was White but not knowing if she was widowed or divorced or waiting for a divorce – Alf was not his usual teasing self and kept his ears open for clues. As soon as he heard her remarking that it was ‘six months since Ron died’, everything clicked into place. She and Neil must be waiting for a decent time to elapse before they took the plunge.
When Neil went out to the lavatory, Olive looked at Alf with a hint of mischief in her eyes, ‘Maybe Neil hasn’t told you yet but I know that you two had great fun at my expense a few years ago.’
‘Oh, no!’ he groaned. ‘How did you find out about that?’
‘Neil didn’t tell me, if that’s what you think, it was my brother Raymond.’
Alf rolled his eyes. ‘I warned Neil not to say anything to him, I knew he would blab it out.’
‘It was a long time after. We were having a row and he took great delight in throwing it in my face. Don’t worry,’ she added, ‘I forgave you both ages ago though I was hurt and angry at the time.’
‘I bet you were. Look, I’m really sorry about it but we were just a couple of silly kids having a lark.’
‘And I was a spoiled kid, but we’ve all been through a lot since then.’
Cousins at War Page 32
