The Girl from Old Nichol

by Betty Annand

  __________

  Night had fallen by the time he returned, accompanied by two medical assistants, a wagon, and a few torch bearers. There were tears of joy on his cheeks when he found that Tom was still alive, and although unconscious, he was breathing without too much difficulty. As the medics looked after Tom, Keith, who had brought along his musket, did what Tom would have wished and put Monty out of his misery.

  Keith didn’t tell Gladys or Andrew what had happened until the next day, hoping the doctor would be able to patch Tom up so as not to frighten them. He was right. By the time he brought Gladys and Andrew to the garrison’s infirmary, Tom had his scalp stitched back in place. The ugly stitches ran about four inches up into the left side of his hairline and down through one eyebrow, stopping just above his cheek bone and were covered in dry, blackened blood. Half his hair and one eyebrow had been shaved off and his face was swollen and blue. Gladys went pale and staggered when she saw him, and Andrew had to steady her with an arm. Luckily, Tom hadn’t regained consciousness and didn’t see the look of distress on their faces. Once she regained her composure, Gladys sat down, took Tom’s hand in hers and held it to her lips. She and Andrew were allowed to remain with him until three in the afternoon, at which time the doctor arrived.

  The doctor, a young, dark-skinned, slightly-built fellow with a large nose, thinning hair, and a distinct Indian accent, had been brought to Dover Castle after interning on the battle fields of India.

  “I am Doctor Carvalho. Are you his wife?” he asked.

  “Yes, Doctor, and this is his father, Andrew Pickwick.”

  After the two men shook hands, the doctor directed his diagnosis to Andrew, precisely, ostensibly, and seemingly, without empathy. “Your son has had a severe head injury, sir, and, until he regains consciousness, it is impossible to tell the amount of brain damage he might have suffered. I have managed to stitch up his wounds, but that is all I can do for him at present. I can tell you that he is most fortunate not to have lost an eye.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I suppose there’s nothing we can do now but wait and hope for the best,” Andrew replied in a tone more query than statement.

  “I would suggest you both talk to him as much as possible; it sometimes helps,” the doctor advised.

  “Isn’t there anything else we can do, Doctor?” Gladys pleaded.

  “Try to get some water into him—by little dribbles—we don’t want him to choke. I will come by later tonight to see how he is progressing.”

  Tom didn’t regain consciousness until two days later. The doctor, whom Gladys had first thought to be uncaring, had allowed her to sit by his side every day, and on the third day she was bending over him, trying to give him a drink, when he suddenly opened his eyes. She was so startled, she spilled the cup of water, and it ran down his chin.

  “Are you trying to drown me?” he asked with a slight grin.

  “Tom!” she cried, and then laid her head on his chest and sobbed.

  He was so weak, it was all he could do to lift his hand up and put it on her head.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aware that he was to blame, Tom was devastated when he heard Monty had to be put down. “All this is my fault,” he confessed when Gladys was visiting him along with his father and Keith. “Monty would still be alive if I hadn’t been such an idiot.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, darling. I started it all by not telling you about the baby sooner,” Gladys insisted.

  “If anyone is to blame, it is me,” Keith added. “If I had been any kind of a friend, I should have tried harder to set things right between you both instead of keeping you apart.”

  “Well you shan’t get a confession from me,” Andrew responded. “I am too old and too wise to get myself in such a state, but I do agree. You are all three responsible. So let’s have no more of this nonsense. There is my grandchild to consider. Now, Tom, I have some good news. The doctor said you are strong enough to go home tomorrow.”

  “How do you feel about that?” Tom asked Gladys, still feeling guilty for his childish behaviour.

  “Well now, let me think about it. If you promise to stay there, I just may allow it.”

  “What was that line from Shakespeare about a burr that you quoted the night when we were rolling around in all the horse dung?” Tom asked Keith.

  “By my troth, I’ll go with thee to the lane’s end . . . I am a kind of burr—I shall stick,” Keith answered.

  “By my troth, Gladys my love, that is what I shall be from now on—your burr.”

  Andrew offered to bring Tom home the next day, but Gladys insisted on picking him up in her little shay. When she arrived at the castle, she was delighted to see he was smiling, but sad that his injuries had robbed him of the lopsided grin she loved. Since the accident, someone had carefully shaved Tom’s face every day so as not to disturb the stitches, and because he hadn’t looked in a mirror since he had his accident, he had no idea how drastically his appearance had changed. On the ride home, they came across two young boys who he recognized that were playing alongside the road. Unfortunately, when he waved and called out to them, they returned his greeting with an unmistakable look of repulsion.

  “Do I look that horrible?” he asked Gladys with concern.

  “No, darling. It’s just that the stitches are sticking out, and you look like a porcupine. When you get them removed and your hair grows back, you will be just as handsome as ever,” she lied.

  It had been a long time since they had made love, and when they arrived home, they went directly upstairs to their bedroom. “How I’ve missed you,” Tom said as they lay in bed later. Gladys smiled and started to get up, but he pulled her back down, “No, no, don’t get up yet. Let’s never get up. In fact, I intend to spend the rest of my life right here on this bed with my beautiful wife.”

  “Have you forgotten that there is someone else here now, and he, or she, is telling me that I need food?”

  Tom put his face on her tummy and said to his unborn child, “You are a greedy little fellow aren’t you? Well, you are just going to have to go hungry for a little longer, there is something I have here that is just as demanding as you.”

  It was a good thing he was still in a weakened condition, or Gladys would have gone hungry until morning. After she left their bedroom, Tom stretched out on the bed contentedly and then dozed off until Gladys wakened him by calling out that dinner was ready.

  “I shall be right there, my love, as soon as I wash up a little,” he replied.

  When ten minutes had passed and he hadn’t come down, Gladys called to him again, but received no answer. Laughing, she said, “You devil, you’ve gone back to bed. I’m coming up there, and if you are not up and dressed by the time I get there, you’ll be sorry!” When she went into the bedroom, he was standing with his pants on, braces dangling and shirtless, staring out the window.

  “Tom?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me I looked like a monster?” he cried without turning. Gladys went over to him and tried to turn his face toward her, but he pushed her hand down. “No, I cannot bear the thought of you looking at me. I thought it was love I saw in your eyes, but now I know it was nothing but pity.”

  “You can’t do this to me again, Tom. I won’t stand for it!” She tried to turn him towards her, but he pushed her hand away again. “Don’t you dare push me away,” she shouted. “Look at me, Tom. I said, look at me!”

  Slowly, he turned to face her. Tears were running down his cheeks as he moaned, “How can you possibly love someone this ugly?”

  “You are not ugly, Tom. When your wounds are healed and the stitches gone, you are going to look much better. Please believe me, darling. I love you so very, very much.”

  Tom tried to believe her, but he couldn’t help wondering if she would still feel that way if her predictions proved to be wrong. The following week they were kept bus
y with visits from Keith, Andrew, and other forewarned friends who tried their best to hide their shock when they first saw Tom’s face. They weren’t very successful, resulting in Tom seldom leaving the house in the daytime.

  __________

  One afternoon while Tom was upstairs sleeping, and Gladys was busy in the kitchen baking pies, she heard someone knock at the front door. She tried to pin her hair back as she went to answer the door, but only succeeded in leaving a streak of flour on both her hair and her forehead. When she opened the door, she couldn’t have been more shocked if the queen was standing there. Greta Rowland and Jane Newell, dressed in all their finery, both offered a feigned smile and said, “Hello, Gladys.”

  When Mrs Newell heard about Tom’s accident, she felt sorry, not only for him, but for Gladys as well, and recalling how rude Jane and Greta had been to the poor girl, she decided it was time they apologized. She was surprised and pleased when both girls consented without complaining. She wouldn’t have been so pleased had she known that the only reason they wanted to visit Gladys and Tom was to see what sort of home the young couple lived in.

  They had heard it was a common peasant dwelling, and because they hadn’t forgiven Gladys for lecturing them about their bad manners, they hoped their visit would be more of an embarrassment for her than a pleasure. They had also heard that Tom was no longer handsome, and although neither girl would admit it, they both felt his injuries were somewhat justified for not choosing one of them instead of a barmaid.

  When Gladys answered the door in the same work clothes she wore when she worked as housemaid for the Watts, Greta had to stifle a wicked laugh of satisfaction. She nudged Jane in the ribs, but Jane was staring at Gladys in amazement and ignored it. She couldn’t believe any girl could be clad so drably and still look so beautiful. In fact, she thought Gladys looked even prettier than she did the day when she wore a fancy frock to Mrs Dundas’s tea. When Jane didn’t speak, Greta grabbed the large basket from her hand, held it out to Gladys and said, “This is for you. We heard about Tom’s accident, and we wanted to let him know how sorry we are. How is he? Could we see him?”

  Reluctantly, Gladys took the basket and mumbled a thank you. She would have liked to refuse it, but because she had once criticized them over their rudeness, she felt obliged to invite them in. Although she was sorry to be dressed so shabbily, she decided not to give them the satisfaction of an apology. This was difficult to do, however, when Greta didn’t even try to hide a smug smile as she looked around at the bareness of the room. Jane was looking around as well, and when she spotted the two doves, she remarked how pretty they were. Gladys, not quite sure if the compliment was sincere or not, didn’t thank her. Instead she answered, “Yes, they are lovely, aren’t they?”

  They sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before Jane pointed to the basket Gladys had placed on a table, and said, “We thought since you have been visiting Tom at the hospital every day, you would not have had time to shop for food, so Greta and I filled a basket with things we hope you might use.”

  As she explained the reason for the gift, her expression seemed sincere, so this time Gladys smiled when she said thank you. It was the first time they had shared a smile, and Jane was surprised at the unexpected feeling of friendship she felt. She reached over, took the cloth off the basket, held up a currant cake, and said, “This is our favourite cake at home, Gladys, I hope you like it as much as we do.”

  “I’m sure I shall. Let’s all have a piece with our tea then, shall we?”

  Greta didn’t have any idea what was going on, but she didn’t appreciate Jane’s change of attitude and glowered at her. Jane glowered back then shocked her even more by standing up and offering to help make the tea.

  Gladys was also surprised, but just smiled and said, “That would be nice, Jane, but you will have to excuse the mess in my kitchen. I was just baking pies when you came in.”

  “My heavens, do not tell me that you have to do your own cooking,” Greta said sarcastically.

  “No, Greta, I do not have to do my own cooking. I could have a cook if I wished and as many maids I want, but I happen to enjoy baking. I don’t suppose you have ever done any cooking.”

  “I should say not!” Greta exclaimed.

  Her haughty attitude didn’t have any effect on Gladys or Jane, who said, “I’ve always wanted to try baking, and when I was little, I even asked our cook if she would show me how, but she just laughed and shooed me out of the kitchen. Perhaps you would teach me some time.”

  “I would be happy to, but let’s wait until Tom is well enough to return to duty.”

  “Wonderful. Speaking of Tom, how is he?”

  “He didn’t sustain any brain damage, did he?” Greta inquired in a voice void of sympathy.

  “No, thank heavens,” Gladys replied. “But he is quite sensitive about his appearance, so I would appreciate it if you would try not to appear too shocked when you see him. I shall put the kettle on then wake him up. Jane, you can cut the cake for me and put it on a plate. I will show you where the knives and plates are. Greta, why don’t you get out some cups and saucers?” she added, along with a wink at Jane.

  Greta could sense they were joking, so put her nose in the air and answered, “I shall leave that up to you. Unlike Jane, I have not the slightest desire to learn how to be a chambermaid.”

  Gladys laughed, “Forgive me, Greta, of course you don’t. It does take a certain talent. You just sit back, and we shall have your tea served in no time.”

  “And we will even stir it for you, if you like,” Jane said, teasingly.

  Greta was angry enough to leave, but she was determined to see Tom so she could tell to her other friends how ghastly he looked.

  __________

  Of all the visitors Tom had, Jane and Greta were the least successful at hiding their shock when they saw his disfigurement. Nevertheless, before they finished their tea, both girls had become accustomed to his appearance, and enjoyed his company. The three had grown up attending the same social functions and had a lot to talk about. Greta did her best to exclude Gladys from their conversation, but Jane and Tom were just as determined to include her. Gladys appreciated their visit, and as they were leaving, she invited them to return whenever they could, although she was sure that Greta would never set foot in their home again.

  As they were walking back home, Jane had to almost run to keep up with Greta, who was still angry. Her best friend had humiliated her, bending over backward just to please a common barmaid; as far as she was concerned, that’s all Gladys would ever be, no matter who she married.

  “For heaven’s sake, Greta, slow down,” Jane shouted as she grabbed hold of Greta’s arm and stopped her. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

  “You know perfectly well why,” Greta snapped back.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  “You behaved like a fool!”

  “You mean because I helped Gladys serve the tea?”

  “Since when have you been a good Samaritan? You seem to have forgotten why we went to visit her in the first place!”

  “I know we only wanted to see how she lived, so we could tell the girls, but I never knew what she was like then. Now I really like her, Gret. I think she is so beautiful, and she really doesn’t care if Tom’s face is a mess. They are so much in love; it gives me gooseflesh.”

  “A lot of her sort are pretty, Jane, but that does not make them any less common. She can never be like us, and we must never stoop to her level, or heaven knows what the world would be like. People are born different and nothing can change that. We should certainly have sympathy for those less fortunate, and give them what we can, but that does not mean we should treat them as equals. Tom made a mistake when he married Gladys, and mark my words, he will live to regret it.” Greta felt as though she was explaining the facts of life to a child, and her anger dissolved, “Come on, let�
�s stop at the Petersons and see if Amanda is home.”

  Jane didn’t argue. She had enjoyed herself in Gladys’s company, and she didn’t want to spoil the day. After the two girls left, Gladys sat on Tom’s knee and said, “If you had told me this morning that I was going to be friends with one of those two girls, I would have thought your accident had rattled your brains.”

  “There you go then. You see, we of the upper classes can be quite likeable when we take a notion.” Then pushing her gently off his knee, he said in a deep voice, “But we can also be demanding. Where is my dinner, wench?”

  Gladys bowed and, pointing to the basket, answered, “I shall have it on your plate, master, just as soon as I look into that magic container and see what the cooks have prepared for us.” They both made a dash for the basket.

  __________

  Two weeks later, Tom was able to return to duty. His stitches were gone, but contrary to Gladys predictions, the scars they left were puckered and dark coloured, leaving his appearance little improved. To his amazement and delight, Gladys treated his disfigurement as something to be proud of, and not hidden. In fact, she seemed more enamoured with him than ever, even going so far as to say that the scars made him look more masculine, which added to his sex appeal.

  This made him laugh, and he had answered, “You really are my Esmeralda.”

  “Oh? And who is this Esmeralda? Should I be jealous?”

  “Not unless your name is Quasimodo.”

  “Quasi who?”

  “Quasimodo. Have you not read Victor Hugo’s book, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame?”

  “I’ve never even heard of it. Tell me all about it. Was Esmeralda pretty?”

  “She was in fact—almost as pretty as you.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “I shall do better than that, I shall buy you the novel; then if I go to India before I get my commission and have to leave you behind, it will give you something to do until you join me. It may even help remind you of how much your ugly husband loves you.”