by Anne Douglas
Flo only said she must get on, that she didn’t feel too well, but Gerda grasped her arm and asked her to come with her to the cinema when they were showing a newsreel of the funeral.
‘You’ll no’ want to miss it, Flo, and neither do I, but Todd’s no’ one for funerals – or royalty, come to that – so he won’t come. We can go together, eh?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Flo, but in the end agreed to accompany Gerda, along with Roz and Chrissie. All were much impressed by the solemnity of it all – the silent crowds, the funeral music, the late king’s marching brothers, including the Duke of Windsor, who’d been king himself until his abdication, as well as the three royal ladies in their mourning clothes and veils. Such pomp and ceremony, yet underneath the real grief and sense of loss they’d never seen anything quite like it.
‘But all so sad,’ sighed Chrissie as they came out of the cinema and into the February darkness. ‘Whenever will things get cheerful again?’
‘Why, dear, you’ve got your wedding to look forward to!’ cried Gerda. ‘Should think that’d be cheerful enough!’
‘And one o’ these days, we’ll see Dougal again,’ Flo remarked. ‘I mean, I hope we will.’
‘’Course you’ll see him, Ma,’ said Roz. ‘That war can’t last for ever.’
They were not to know that Dougal was arriving back in Scotland as they spoke, never to see Korea again.
Fifty-Seven
As soon as she picked up the letter lying on the mat at the main front door some days later, Roz knew there was something wrong. It was addressed to her mother and from Dougal – she recognized his handwriting – but it wasn’t in a Forces envelope, as was usual with his letters. It hadn’t come from Korea. No, this letter was in a cheap little white envelope and postmarked Glasgow. Glasgow? How could that be? Dougal in Glasgow? Impossible!
Yet, there it was, his letter postmarked Glasgow in her hand. Somehow, he must have returned. But why? Her heart beating fast, Roz went slowly up the stairs to give the letter to her mother, who would be in a state as soon as she saw it, that was for sure. And they were all due to leave for work any minute, but how could they leave for work if there was bad news in Dougal’s letter? For though she had no idea what it could be and why he should be back in Glasgow without them being told, Roz was certain that this little envelope contained nothing good.
Bracing herself, she went into the flat and called her mother, who was adjusting her hat at the kitchen mirror. ‘Ma, there’s a letter from Dougal!’
‘Dougal?’ Flo’s face lit up. ‘Give it here, then. Haven’t heard from him for a while, eh?’
‘Thing is – don’t get upset – it’s not from Korea. The postmark’s Glasgow.’
‘What?’ Flo’s face immediately became a mask of concern. ‘Glasgow? What are you talking about?’
‘There must be some mistake,’ said Chrissie, who was already in her coat. ‘Dougal can’t have sent a letter from Glasgow.’
‘Want me to open it, Ma?’ asked Roz.
‘No, no, give it here, I say. I’ll open it, of course I will!’
Flo was tearing open the little envelope, snatching out the one sheet of paper it contained and fearfully running her eyes over the contents. Then she looked from Roz to Chrissie and, putting out a hand, steadied herself against the table before sinking into a chair.
‘He’s in hospital,’ she whispered. ‘He’s been sent home.’
‘He’s wounded?’ cried Chrissie.
‘No, he says he isn’t. But – oh, God – there’s something wrong.’ Holding out the letter, Flo put her hand to her eyes. ‘Read it, read it! See for yourselves!’
‘Dear Ma,’ the letter began. ‘Don’t get upset when you see I’m in hospital. I’ve not been hurt – I’m fine. It’s just that they think I need to come home. I can’t fight any more. Please ring here and ask when you can come over. They’ll tell you all about it. I’m looking forward to seeing you, and the girls. Try not to worry. With love, Dougal.’
Roz and Chrissie raised their eyes from their brother’s letter and looked at their mother.
‘What does he mean?’ Chrissie whispered. ‘He can’t fight any more, but he’s not been hurt? What’s wrong?’
‘I think – I think it must be to do with the mind,’ Roz said hesitantly. ‘Must be, if it’s not physical …’
‘There’s nothing wrong with Dougal’s mind!’ Flo cried. ‘There couldn’t be! He’s the most sane and sensible lad you could possibly find. That’s a piece o’ nonsense, Roz, to say that about your brother.’
‘They wouldn’t have sent him home for nothing, Ma,’ Chrissie said gently. ‘I mean, battle can affect soldiers, isn’t that right? Didn’t they used to call it shell shock?’
‘There’s never been a hint of it,’ Flo retorted. ‘All his letters have been cheerful – I’m his mother, I’d have known if there was anything wrong.’
‘He hasn’t written lately,’ Roz murmured. ‘Something must’ve made him stop. What we’ve got to do now is ring the hospital and find out when we can go.’
‘Oh, Roz, will you do that? I canna face it. Will you ring and fix it up so we can go as soon as possible? You’ll come with me, eh? Both o’ you?’
‘Maybe you and Roz should go for the first time,’ said Chrissie. ‘The doctors will want to talk to you – they won’t want three of us. I’ll see him soon as you find out what’s going on.’
‘As long as I don’t have to go on my own,’ Flo murmured. ‘Oh, I feel so bad – I don’t think I can go into work today. Will you ring them and say I won’t be in, Roz?’
‘Might be better if you did go in, Ma. Might help you to keep going till we find out what’s wrong.’
‘No, no, I’ll stay here. I’ll have a cup o’ tea and a cigarette and wait for you to come back from the phone. That’s all I can do.’
‘I thought I’d ring up from work – they’ll let me use the phone there – and it’ll be easier than from the phone box. I’ll come back in my lunch hour and tell you what’s happening.’
‘Can we see him this afternoon, do you think? I’ll not sleep a wink if I don’t see him.’
‘I think we’ll have to try for tomorrow, Ma. There won’t be time to go today. Now, I’d better go.’
‘Me, too,’ said Chrissie. ‘Oh, Ma, will you be all right?’
‘Try for this afternoon, Roz,’ was all Flo would say, and with sinking hearts at the dark look on her face, the sisters left her.
‘This doesn’t look good,’ Roz said before they parted for their different trams. ‘Sounds to me as though Dougal has got some mental problems, whatever Ma says, and how’s she going to be if he has?’
‘She might be better once she knows what the problem is,’ Chrissie replied. ‘It’s always worse not knowing what you’ve got to face.’
‘True. Let’s hope we find out soon, then. See you tonight, eh?’
‘You don’t think you’ll be going to Glasgow today?’
Roz shook her head. ‘More likely tomorrow, when they can give us an appointment with the doctors.’
‘And then you’ll see Dougal?’ Chrissie’s lip suddenly trembled. ‘Oh, Roz, how d’you think he’ll be?’
As Roz shook her head, Chrissie flung her arms around her and for some moments they stood, holding each other, before they separated, tears not far away as they ran for their trams.
When Roz came home in her lunch break, it was to tell her mother that she’d got through to the hospital and been given an appointment with a doctor at two o’clock the following day. Afterwards, they would be able to visit Dougal. That was good news, wasn’t it?
‘Don’t know about that,’ Flo answered. ‘I was hoping to see him today.’
‘He’s having tests today – we wouldn’t have been able to see him anyway.’
‘Tests?’ Flo sighed. ‘Oh, well, thanks for phoning, anyway. Now, sit down and have some soup – it’s only tinned, but it’ll do you good.’
Eyeing her
mother cautiously, Roz sat down at the table. ‘You’re not feeling too bad, Ma, are you?’
‘I’ve decided to try not to worry too much, because I don’t think you’re right about Dougal, Roz. He’s got a problem, or they wouldn’t have sent him home, but it’s not what you say. Not nerves or anything. You’ll see when we get to the hospital.’
‘Ma, I have to tell you …’ Roz was looking down at her bowl of soup. ‘The hospital outside Glasgow is a military one.’
‘So? It would be, eh?’ Flo served herself soup and offered Roz some bread. ‘Dougal’s a soldier, that’s where he’d be.’
‘But it has a specialist ward for nervous cases, Ma. And that’s where Dougal is. They told me on the phone.’
Flo laid down her spoon, her face losing colour. ‘They told you?’
‘They just said which ward he was in, after they’d given me instructions to find the hospital.’
‘That was all?’
‘They wouldn’t tell me any more over the phone, would they? It’ll be the doctor who’ll give us information.’
‘That’s set me back, that has,’ Flo murmured, lowering her eyes. ‘I don’t feel like eating now.’
‘Oh, Ma, that’s ridiculous!’ cried Roz. ‘What good is it going to do Dougal if you don’t eat?’
‘I’ll have it later. But you finish yours, and then we can have some tea.’
‘Promise me you’ll try to be positive about this, Ma. Look on the bright side. Dougal’s home and whatever’s wrong, he’ll be in good hands. Try to think of that.’
‘I am thinking of it and I’m thanking God he’s home, but I canna stop worrying.’
As Flo took out her cigarettes with shaking fingers, her tragic eyes fastened on Roz’s face. ‘I canna stop thinking that he’s going to be like me, go through what I’ve been through, and it’s what I’ve always dreaded, Roz, that one o’ you would end up like me.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘And seemingly, he’s the one, eh? My Dougal – so strong … who’d have thought it? But he’ll be in the black night, Roz, just like me, and there’s nothing we can do!’
‘Ma, you’re better now,’ Roz said uneasily. ‘Dougal will get better, too.’
‘Will he? We don’t know what’ll happen to him. Who says I’m better, anyway?’ Flo sat back as though suddenly exhausted. ‘That night is always there, Roz, somewhere. I never know if it’ll find me again.’
Roz, used as she was to comforting her mother, cheering her, encouraging her, was now at a loss to find anything to say. Reaching out, she pressed Flo’s hand. ‘Let’s see how Dougal is tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘Maybe he’ll be better than we think.’
Fifty-Eight
The following morning, they had finished breakfast, which for Flo consisted of a cup of tea and a cigarette, and Chrissie had just left for work, when a knock sounded at the door and Roz went over. It was Evan.
He was wearing a raincoat over his suit, a trilby hat covered his black hair, and he was carrying a briefcase – clearly on his way to work.
‘Roz, I came to ask after Dougal.’ He swept off his hat, his look anxious. ‘Chrissie told Bob about him last night and we were so sorry to hear he was in hospital. Is there anything we can do?’
‘Come in a minute, Evan, Ma will be pleased to see you. No, there’s nothing you can do, thanks all the same.’
Flo, tidying away the dishes, gave a surprised smile at the sight of Evan.
‘Oh, Evan, have you come to ask after Dougal? We’re going to see him this afternoon – he’s in hospital near Glasgow.’
‘We’ve to see the doctor first,’ Roz put in. ‘Won’t know what the situation is till then.’
‘But he hasn’t been wounded? That’s something, anyway.’
Flo set her lips. ‘Aye, it’s something.’
‘I just wish there was something I could do,’ Evan said earnestly. ‘Do you think Bob and I could visit him some time? Which hospital is he in?’
‘Rookwood Military,’ Roz told him. ‘Why, I’m sure you could visit him, but we’ll ask today about the times.’
‘And if he wants any magazines, or anything, could you let us know? And tell him we’re thinking of him?’ Evan paused for a moment. ‘Such a grand lad – we hope everything will be OK.’
Thanking him again, Roz went with him to the door, where he put on his hat and looked down at her, his eyes so sympathetic, she had to look away.
‘We’ll be in touch, Roz. I’m glad you’re able to go with your mother today. She’s not looking well – not surprising, of course.’
‘I’ll look after her.’
He hesitated, touching his hat. ‘Goodbye, then, and good luck with the visit. Let us know how things go.’
‘I will. Goodbye, Evan. Thanks for calling.’
She watched him hurry away down the stairs before returning to the flat, where her mother gave her a weary smile.
‘Very thoughtful, Evan. Nice of him and Bob to want to see Dougal.’
‘Just hope they can. But now, though, we’d better get to the station. If we make an early start we can have something to eat at the railway buffet in Glasgow before we find the bus to Rookwood.’
‘I’ve got some cakes for Dougal, but I don’t care about eating.’
Roz sighed. ‘See how you feel when we get there. Come on, I want us to give ourselves plenty of time.’
In the event, Flo did manage a cheese roll and tea at the Central Station buffet, while Roz had scrambled egg on toast and coffee, after which they felt fortified enough to find the bus to the hospital, following the instructions given on the telephone.
‘Somewhere out beyond Bearsden,’ Roz remarked. ‘Seemingly, the bus passes the hospital gates, so it couldn’t be more convenient.’
To this, Flo made no comment. Nor did she take any interest in the route the bus followed, though when they reached the outskirts of the city, the scenery became pleasant, with golf courses, open spaces and an air of well-being.
‘Rather different from some of the rest of Glasgow,’ Roz commented, hoping to get a word out of her mother, but it was only when the conductor called out ‘Rookwood Hospital!’ that Flo seemed to come alive and scramble hastily out of the bus, while Roz hurried to catch her.
‘Name and business?’ asked the soldier who’d appeared from the guardhouse near a pair of locked gates.
‘Mrs Rainey and Miss Rainey to see Colonel Marsh,’ said Roz.
He checked his list and nodded. ‘Colonel Marsh, that’s correct. Go through the gates, up the drive to the hospital and speak to Reception, OK?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Roz took her mother’s arm as the gates were opened and they made their way up a short drive to a large, stone building, which might once have been a private house but now seemed very much an institution.
‘Here we are,’ said Roz when they’d entered the massive front door and found themselves in a long hall smelling of floor polish, carbolic and the pungent smell of rather old chrysanthemums on the receptionist’s desk. ‘I’ll speak to the lady at Reception, Ma. You wait here.’
‘I’ll speak to her,’ said Flo.
As they were a little early, the receptionist, a kindly-faced woman of thirty-five or so, gave them instructions for finding Colonel Marsh’s waiting room, which was on the third floor; they could take the lift or the stairs.
‘The lift,’ chose Flo, and when they were travelling together up to the third floor, Roz pressed her mother’s arm.
‘Not long to go now, Ma.’
‘Aye, if he’s on time. These doctors are never on time.’
But Colonel Marsh, a tall, angular man in his forties, wearing a white coat over his khaki uniform, was surprisingly on time, and courteously showed them to chairs in his consulting room before taking his own seat at his desk. His light hair was cropped short, his narrow blue eyes keen, and it seemed to Roz that here was a man they could trust to be frank. Whatever had to be told of Dougal, he would tell it.
‘Mrs Rainey,’ he bega
n, ‘I’m glad to meet you.’ He looked at Roz. ‘And this is …?’
‘I’m Dougal Rainey’s sister,’ Roz said quickly. ‘Is it all right if I’m with my mother?’
‘Certainly. I want to meet Private Rainey’s family.’ He gave a brief smile that included them both. ‘Now, you’ll be anxious to hear how he is and why he’s been brought from Korea to this hospital. Feel free to ask me any questions later, but first I’ll put you in the picture about what’s been happening to him, and will explain something of how we intend to help him.’
‘Thank you,’ said Roz, as Flo, her eyes riveted on the doctor, made no reply, and after a moment or two, the colonel began.
Fifty-Nine
‘Before I say anything else,’ he said quietly, ‘I must tell you that until his illness, Dougal had always been considered an excellent soldier. He was, in fact, due to be promoted, and his commanding officer in his report to me speaks very highly of him.’
The colonel took up an envelope which he passed to Flo. ‘This is a letter he’s written to you, Mrs Rainey, so that you can read for yourself how well your son was doing.’
‘Thank you,’ Flo whispered. ‘That’s good to know.’
‘You’ll be wondering what went wrong,’ the colonel continued. ‘Well, it happens to many good soldiers through no fault of their own, but after a long period of warfare sometimes they are overcome by what we once called shell shock, but now tend to call stress, or battle fatigue. From what he’s told me, I believe that Dougal’s problem has its seeds in early battles, when he saw comrades cut down or captured. It’s clear he couldn’t forget what he saw and that he began to feel guilty he’d survived. That’s a quite common reaction.’
Colonel Marsh, twirling a pencil, paused a moment, then went on: ‘Seems that he managed to keep going, but it began to be noticed that a change had come over him. He didn’t refuse to work or fight, but everything he did was done, as you might say, in slow motion. It was as though he was clogged down with heavy weights, and could only move at a certain pace – which of course no sergeant was going to accept. He was disciplined, his chance of promotion was lost, and no one knew what to make of it. Finally, he was sent to the medical officer, who diagnosed battle fatigue.
