Until We Meet Again

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘It’ll be better when I start working again,’ said Tilly. ‘I don’t intend to sit around and feel sorry for myself for very long. I know I’m due for some leave, but I think it might be as well if I start my duties here as soon as possible. I’ll meet the sister in charge, and the matron, after I’ve had the weekend to myself. I was very fortunate at St Luke’s. The matron was an approachable sort of person; I’ve heard that a lot of them are just the opposite; and the sister that I had most to do with, Sister Berryman, she was very understanding. I shall miss my good friend, Sophie, but she’s going to nurse overseas very soon… So, all things considered, I expect I’m in the right place.’

  ‘You’ll find Sister Bartlett easy enough to get on with,’ Priscilla told her. ‘She doesn’t give very much away about herself but she’s an excellent nurse; a real Florence Nightingale. That’s her name, by the way, Florence. And Mrs Steele, the matron, she doesn’t stand for any nonsense and everybody respects her. She’s a bit of a mysterious figure, but then we all have a right to privacy if that’s what we want.’

  ‘Well, time will tell,’ replied Tilly. ‘I shall have to get used to a new routine; and, of course, I won’t expect any favours because I’m the daughter of the house.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll get any,’ replied Priscilla with a meaningful smile. She left Tilly on her own then to continue sorting out her belongings.

  Tilly reflected, when left alone, on what an amazing change had taken place with regard to Dominic’s cousin. Priscilla had acquired a self-assurance and a positive way of talking that she had never shown before. She had already heard from her mother about how readily she had adapted to her duties; and Tilly was to see for herself during the following days the affection with which the patients regarded Priscilla. Tilly, at her mother’s insistence, took a few days of rest during which she enjoyed – as far as she was able without Dominic at her side – the attractions of the seaside town that was her home, and the warmth of the August sunshine. She visited Dominic’s parents and his aunt and uncle; these were not happy occasions but necessary ones. Dominic’s mother was holding herself together pretty well considering her loss. Tilly realised that Mrs Fraser’s pain and grief must be equally as bad as her own; she promised that she would keep in touch with them.

  By the middle of the week, having already met the rest of the nursing staff, she was ready to take up her duties.

  Priscilla had found Jack Smollett rather subdued after the visit of his lady friend, Doris. She had enquired, as she felt it was only polite to do, if the two of them had enjoyed their time together.

  ‘So, so…’ he replied with a slight frown and an ambivalent sort of gesture with his left hand. Then, ‘Yes, of course we were glad to see one another again,’ he added, with a smile that appeared a little forced. ‘She’s a grand lass,’ he proclaimed, as though defying anyone to say anything different. ‘But it’s not ideal meeting in circumstances like this. She seemed…different, somehow, but then I hadn’t seen her for ages. I suppose we’ve both changed to a certain extent. It’ll be all right when I get back home. I shouldn’t be here too much longer, with a bit of luck.’ He crossed his fingers.

  It was on the Wednesday, the day that Tilly had started her duties, that Jack received a letter by the second post. The mail had arrived just before noon, and Priscilla had taken the letter to Jack along with the first course of his midday meal. She served several of the other patients, too, where they sat at the table in the communal dining room. She gathered from the handwriting that Jack’s letter was from Doris. She left him on his own because the meal was shepherd’s pie, which he could manage to eat without any assistance. He liked to cope by himself whenever possible.

  She returned some fifteen minutes later with the puddings, lemon sponge and custard, which, again, he should be able to manage quite comfortably with his left hand. To her surprise she found that Jack’s place at the table was empty and his meal was only half eaten.

  ‘Where’s Jack?’ she asked as she cleared away the empty plates, then placed the dishes of pudding in front of the men. ‘It’s not like him to leave half his dinner.’

  ‘Happen he’s gone to the toilet,’ said Jimmy, who had been sitting next to him. ‘A sudden call of nature, perhaps, if you’ll excuse me, Priscilla. He did dash off mighty quick.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ put in Alan, whose seat was at the other side of Jack. ‘He had a letter, and it seemed as though he couldn’t wait till he had finished his meal. He propped it up against the cruet and started reading it. Then all of a sudden he dashed off… I thought of going after him, but then I thought no, best not to.’

  ‘And where’s the letter?’ asked Priscilla.

  ‘I think he shoved it into his pocket,’ said Alan.

  ‘Happen it was one of them ”Dear John” letters,’ said Jimmy. ‘Oh dear! That there lass that came to see him, she looked a real flighty piece to me.’

  Priscilla felt a stab of apprehension. She knew that Jack was not in a cheerful frame of mind that day, nor had he been ever since Saturday, and he could so quickly succumb to a mood of depression. Sometimes they came upon him with little warning, and if he had received bad news…

  ‘Would you go and look for him, please, Alan?’ she asked the more sensible of the two men who had been sitting next to him. ‘Perhaps you could get him to talk to you…if he wants to.’

  ‘Right away,’ said Alan. ‘I’ll go and look in the bogs. That’s most likely where he’ll be. Leave my pudding there; I don’t mind cold custard.’

  Priscilla continued with her serving, feeling more than usually concerned. She was even more anxious when Alan returned a few minutes later.

  ‘There’s no sign of him,’ he said. ‘He’s not in the toilets, nor the lounge. And he’s not in his room neither.’

  ‘Thanks, Alan,’ said Priscilla. ‘I’ll go and look in the garden. He likes to go out there, especially when he’s feeling a bit low.’

  But a quick scan at both the front and back of the home revealed that he was not there either. Feeling seriously worried by now, Priscilla went to find Faith. ‘Jack’s gone missing,’ she told her. ‘Jack Smollett; the other men think he might have had bad news in a letter… It was from his lady friend,’ she added, ‘and he’s seemed rather quiet ever since Saturday when she came to see him. Is it all right if I go and look for him? I don’t think he can have gone very far. He’s only been gone ten minutes or so.’

  ‘Yes, by all means,’ said Faith. ‘But don’t go on your own. Take one of the more able-bodied men with you. Oh dear! I’ve noticed myself that Jack has been a bit preoccupied lately and it doesn’t take much to bring on one of his black moods. Off you go then, Priscilla…and thank you. You seem to be able to get through to him better than anyone.’

  Priscilla went to find Simon Gallagher, one of the sergeants who, although he had lost an arm, as Jack had, was very well adjusted and ready to help out in any way he could. She told him about Jack and how she feared he had gone off because he had received some unwelcome news. Simon, too, had noticed that Jack had been withdrawn and disinclined to talk for the last day or two.

  They spoke very little as they made their way along Victoria Avenue to the promenade. A quick glance in both directions showed them that Jack was not on the main promenade. A gate on the other side of the road was the way into the valley gardens, a maze of woodland paths and steps leading down, eventually to the sea, with more formal laid out gardens – a rose garden and an Italian garden with a fountain – to be admired or lingered in for a little while. They both seemed to know instinctively that that was where they must search for Jack. There were only a few people in the gardens as it was lunchtime, apart from a couple of young women sitting on a bench eating sandwiches, and a gardener cutting the grass around the beds in the rose garden. As Jack was not there, they made their way back up to the main promenade.

  An unfenced path led along the clifftop. There was little danger of falling down to where t
he sea lapped against the rocks below; although the pathway was narrow, there was an expanse of grass between the path and the cliff edge.

  To the right, some fifty yards or so distant, a lone figure was standing away from the path, perilously near to the end of the grass verge which sloped to the cliff edge. Priscilla and Simon looked at one another fearfully. It was Jack…

  Chapter Twenty

  Priscilla, without stopping to think, started to run and was on the point of shouting out his name when Simon put his left hand, his one remaining hand, on her arm to restrain her.

  ‘Don’t call out!’ he said. ‘We mustn’t startle him. I don’t think he’s seen us yet, so we’d better approach him carefully.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Priscilla. ‘How silly of me. I was just so relieved to see him. You don’t think… He’s not going to throw himself off, is he?’ she asked in a frightened whisper. ‘He’s been in such an odd mood lately. Oh, Simon; I’m really scared…’

  He put a protective arm round her. ‘Come along now. Don’t start fearing the worst. We’ve got to be brave and do what we can to help poor old Jack. No…I don’t think he’s going to jump off, and the longer he stands there the less likely it will be.’

  They walked quickly, but stealthily, towards him, not speaking at all. Jack was gazing out towards the sea, as still as a statue. When they were about ten yards away from him he suddenly seemed to become aware of them. He turned, taking a step away from the edge, to their relief, before shouting out to them.

  ‘I might have known there’d be a search party coming after me. But there’s no need. Go back; I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘All right, Jack. We were rather concerned about you, that’s all,’ said Simon.

  ‘You left half your dinner,’ said Priscilla, trying to introduce a more light-hearted feel to the encounter. ‘And that’s not like you, is it? And it’s your favourite lemon sponge for pudding.’

  ‘I suddenly lost my appetite,’ said Jack, a trifle edgily. ‘And I wanted to be on my own. Is that a crime? I thought we were allowed out. It’s not a prison, is it?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Simon. ‘But Matron does like us to have someone else with us. You know that, Jack. Come along now, there’s a good chap, come back with us.’

  ‘To hell with Matron! And the whole damned lot of ’em. I’m sick of being molly-coddled and treated as though I’ve lost my senses. It’s an arm I’ve lost, not my bloody brain. Go on – sod off, both of yer! Leave me alone!’

  Priscilla looked despairingly at Simon, startled at what she was hearing. She had never heard Jack use such language before, but shocked as she was, she knew he must be in a distressed state of mind to be behaving in such a way.

  ‘Very well then,’ said Simon. ‘But for God’s sake, get away from the edge of the cliff! It’s not safe. If there’s a sudden gust of wind…’

  ‘Oh, so you think I’m going to jump, do you?’ Jack sneered. ‘That’s what this is all about, is it? Well, I’ve thought about it, I can tell you. It might not be such a bad idea. What have I got to live for? Tell me that.’

  ‘He doesn’t mean it,’ said Simon in a whisper to Priscilla. ‘It’s just bravado. He’s no intention of jumping.’ Aloud, to Jack, he called out, ‘Everything, Jack, that’s what. Both you and me, we’ve got everything to live for. We might have both lost an arm, but so what? We’re still alive, and life is the most precious thing there is. Didn’t you think of that, when you were over there in the midst of it all? We were fighting for our lives, and the lives of those we love. And we’ve been spared, Jack. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? We don’t have to go back there.’

  ‘Oh, spare me the platitudes,’ shouted Jack. ‘I can do without the sermon. I’ve just lost the thing that was most precious to me. And now I’m telling you to go away. I don’t need you interfering…’ He waved his left hand at them, and in doing so he appeared to lose his balance. For a few seconds he teetered on the edge of the cliff, grasping at the air with his one hand, but there was nothing to hang on to.

  Simon started to run. ‘Jack, I’m coming. Try to take a step forwards. Hang on a minute…’ But it was too late. They both watched in horror, still running towards him, as Jack swayed unsteadily, then lost his footing on a patch of shale. There was a cry of, ‘Oh, help…!’ as he disappeared over the cliff edge.

  ‘Oh, no, no…’ gasped Priscilla, standing stock still in her tracks, too frightened to move, let alone to look down to the rocks and the sea far below. ‘Oh, dear God…’

  ‘He didn’t mean that to happen,’ muttered Simon. ‘He wasn’t going to jump. Oh, the stupid, stupid fool…’ He ran past Priscilla to the spot where Jack had been standing and looked down. Then, ‘Oh, thank God!’ Priscilla heard him say. He called to her. ‘Come and look. I think he’s all right. At least, it’s not as bad as it might have been.’

  Priscilla was not very good with heights but she held on to Simon’s good arm and forced herself to look down. A bush halfway down the cliffside had broken Jack’s fall. He was lying at an awkward angle, but fortunately he had landed on a patch of grass and not on the rocks. He was not moving, but it seemed unlikely that he would be too badly injured. The incline was quite steep, however, and Priscilla knew that it would be difficult for Simon, handicapped by the loss of an arm, to make his way down. She did not relish the thought of doing so herself, but she knew it was what she must do.

  ‘I’ll scramble down,’ she told Simon, ‘and see how badly he’s hurt. I think we’d better call an ambulance and get him to the hospital, don’t you? He might need the attention of a doctor. Perhaps you could do that, could you, Simon, while I wait here with Jack?’

  ‘Yes, if you’re sure,’ replied Simon. ‘Will you be able to get down there? I’m afraid I daren’t risk it, much as I’d like to.’

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ said Priscilla with a bravery she wasn’t really feeling. ‘I’m not too good with heights, I must admit; I get rather dizzy. But I’ll try to scramble down on my…on my bottom,’ she added, a little self-conscious at mentioning such a part of her anatomy to a man.

  ‘The best way,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll stay here till you’re safely down. I feel so blooming helpless, but the loss of an arm makes you lopsided. You don’t realise until it’s no longer there how much an arm must weigh. All your weight is thrown to one side. That must’ve been what happened to Jack; he overbalanced. I’m sure he didn’t mean it to happen.’

  ‘He’s still not moving,’ said Priscilla fearfully. ‘You don’t think…he can’t be dead, can he?’

  ‘No, I very much doubt it,’ said Simon, with an assurance that Priscilla found comforting. ‘He didn’t fall far enough, thank the Lord. Now then, Priscilla, off you go. We mustn’t waste any more time.’

  She sat down on the edge of the cliff and gingerly began to shuffle down the slope, her hands to her sides, clinging on to the grass and the boulders of rock and digging her heels hard into the ground to aid her in her descent. She looked straight ahead and not down, lest a fit of dizziness should overtake her. It was not a sheer drop or it would have been impossible, but it was steep enough, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the spot where Jack had landed. There was a small plateau of grass around the bush where he was lying. Priscilla could see at a glance that he was unconscious. She put her fingers to his wrist, then to his neck, as she had seen the nurses do, to check for a pulse. To her great relief she found there was quite a strong one, but he did not stir when she said his name. She could see, also, that blood was oozing, but not streaming, fortunately, from a gash on his forehead. She realised he must have knocked his head against a rock and was suffering from concussion.

  She looked up to where Simon was standing at the cliff edge. ‘He’s all right,’ she called. ‘At least…he’s unconscious and he’s banged his head, but he’s breathing quite normally…thank God!’ Her voice petered out and she felt tears come into her eyes as she realised how thankful she was.


  ‘Thanks, Priscilla; you’re a brave lass,’ Simon shouted back to her. ‘Hang on there, and I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  She saw him walk away speedily along the cliff path and watched him till he was out of sight, then turned her attention to Jack. She sat at the side of him and took hold of his hand, no longer feeling quite so scared. She trusted he would come round and recover from whatever injuries he might have sustained. He had a strong physical constitution according to the medical staff. It was his mind and his mental state that let him down from time to time, and this present set-back, brought about by his own wilfulness, was sure to be a shock to his system. Until recent events had upset him, he had been making an excellent recovery. Priscilla had feared, if she were truthful, that he might soon be allowed to return home… And what a void that would leave in her life. She knew she was becoming altogether too fond of him.

  She felt almost happy now to be sitting so close to him, holding his hand and cherishing his nearness. Was that too dreadful and selfish of her? she pondered. But it might be the last chance she would have to be so close to him. She remembered what Jack had said; that he had lost the thing that was most precious to him. She had felt a stab of anger and jealousy, knowing that he must have been referring to Doris, that painted, stuck-up madam who had come to visit him. Well, he was better off without her. She would not have made him happy, and she was not nearly good enough for him. He must have loved her, though, to have been so distressed at receiving her letter. Or imagined that he loved her… Priscilla, intuitively, had felt sure that it was a question of distance lending enchantment, and that the pair of them, Jack and Doris, had found on seeing one another again that it was no longer the same between them. Priscilla knew, as well, that she might be deluding herself to imagine that Jack could ever be interested in her, as anything other than a young woman who was looking after him whilst he was incapacitated. But she had her dreams, unlikely though they might be, and to love someone, even though that love might not be reciprocated, was something quite wonderful.