by Val Wood
Sarah had told him that she didn’t; that he hadn’t changed a bit and was just the same person he’d always been, and with that truism ringing in his ears he seemed to be satisfied. They’d offered him a cup of tea, but he grimaced and said he had to be going. They hadn’t seen him since.
Friday the thirteenth was the date of the queen’s arrival. The news came ten days before and everyone in the town was galvanized into action. The Corporation had made money available to defray expenses; sub-committees were formed to arrange the workload, and within hours of receiving the news carpenters began to build a wooden amphitheatre near the railway station where Her Majesty and the royal contingent would arrive late in the afternoon, and another by the pier whence she would depart the following day.
A triumphal arch was being built close by the Junction Bridge which passed over the River Hull and another in Queen Street, both to be bedecked with the royal arms, flags and the painted words Vivat Regina.
Barricades were erected along the streets where the royal party would progress, for thousands were expected to converge on the town, which throbbed with clanking, grating, hammering and sawing.
Bella sent off a postcard to Joe and Alice, for they had said they would close the Woodman for the day and travel to Hull to be with them. Joe had said there would be no point in opening as the villagers were arranging to hire waggons to bring them in on the Saturday when most of the ceremonies would be taking place, and there would be no one left in the village save the very old or the infirm, neither of which groups was very likely to seek solace in the Woodman.
On the Friday morning Bella rose early and then woke her mother, who had extra batches of baking to do, for they expected the saloon to be busy too as visitors poured into the town from all over the county and beyond. Butchers’ and bakers’ delivery was expected early, plus the flowers they had ordered. Carter had already put up flags and bunting, and potted shrubs had been placed at the front door and in the reception area.
Bella supervised the final touches to the bedrooms, making sure the clean towels were neatly folded on the wooden towel rails and the wash jugs and basins were clean and merely waiting for hot water. She slipped out to the market to buy extra posies of flowers for the rooms and saw the flags and bunting decorating the buildings and the fresh plants and shrubs outside the doorways. How exciting it is, she thought. I never ever thought I’d see such a day, let alone take part in it, and she marvelled at how her life had changed.
She felt a pang of nostalgia when she thought of her childhood in the Holderness countryside, but her thoughts rarely lingered on her former ambition; she felt fulfilled in the role she was now playing. Yet sometimes, especially when she saw Joe and Alice, who was now pregnant, she mused that it would be nice to share her life with someone special and hoped that she wouldn’t always be alone.
Adam was sweeping the pavement outside when she returned and Carter was on a ladder washing the hotel sign.
‘What a weekend it’s going to be, eh, Miss Bella?’ he called down to her. ‘A time for us all to remember. You’ll be able to tell your grandchildren about when Her Majesty came to visit!’
I hope so, she thought, but right now there’s no one in my life. The only man who shows the slightest interest in me is Justin Allen, and I don’t care enough for him to consider spending the rest of my life with him, even if he should ask, which he hasn’t.
‘I hope we can get to see her,’ Adam said.
‘The dignitaries will be all over her tonight,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow will be our turn.’
‘Postie’s just been, Miss Bella,’ Adam called and she thanked him, hurrying in to take off her shawl and find vases for her flowers.
Her mother was standing in the reception area, holding a postcard in her hand.
‘They can’t come!’ she said.
‘Oh, no!’ Bella was aghast. ‘But we’re all ready. I’ve bought flowers for the rooms!’
‘Not ’guests!’ Sarah said. ‘Our Joe and Alice. Alice is too near her time to come.’ She turned over the card to look at the postmark. ‘Yesterday’s date. She might have had it by now. Oh, I should be there.’
‘Her mother will be with her,’ Bella said gently. ‘She’s had enough bairns of her own to know what to do.’ She smiled at her mother. ‘You’ll be a grandmother afore long!’
Henry flew in through the door at midday. ‘There are no more lessons today. I have to have my dinner and then go straight back for a final rehearsal,’ he said. ‘We’re singing ’national anthem in ’morning. There are going to be over ten thousand children. I don’t think I can count up to so many numbers. And,’ he added importantly, ‘all ’royal princesses and princes will be there as well cos they’re on their way back from their holiday in Balmoral, and there’ll be loads of other lords and ladies as well.’
Bella and his mother looked suitably impressed at his first-hand information, and Sarah quickly served up his dinner before he rushed out again.
‘Well, well,’ Sarah beamed after he had gone. ‘A new grand-bairn on its way and our Henry singing in front of ’queen! What a weekend this is going to be.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
‘WHAT DO YOU think, Thorp? Will you be able to travel?’
The corporal had volunteered his name, but Jamie hadn’t told him who he was, nor had he mentioned that he used to call at the Woodman. He didn’t think that William Thorp remembered him at all and in fact the corporal himself had changed considerably. Back then Jamie recalled a fair-haired youth, a little younger than himself, who was rather quiet and didn’t often serve at the inn. Now he was self-assured and upright as a soldier should be, with hair that seemed darker, a reddish beard and whiskers and a weather-beaten complexion.
William pondered. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I feel fit enough until I stand up and then I don’t have a decent leg to stand on. My foot is very painful and my knee is giving me gyp, but I’d give anything to get home.’
‘I can get crutches made for you,’ Jamie said, ‘but you’ll have to bear the weight on your foot rather than your knee otherwise you’ll do untold damage.’
‘Mm.’ William considered. ‘I’ll risk it, I think. I’m mekkin’ plans and being a cripple doesn’t feature in ’em.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m leaving too. We can travel together.’
‘Oh,’ William said. ‘That’s good of you, sir. I thought you’d be stopping here at ’hospital.’
‘No, that wasn’t part of my plan either. I came to seek out my colleague and maybe work with him, but now …’ He paused, and sighed. ‘Well, as he’s no longer with us, I’ll have to rethink what I’m going to do; that is, if I’ve passed my exams. I might be practising here under false pretences.’
‘What!’ William said in mock horror. ‘You’re never telling me you’re nowt but a quack!’
‘It’s possible. But unlikely,’ Jamie added modestly. ‘I was told to expect good results.’
He asked one of the carpenters to measure Thorp for a pair of crutches and to pad the tops that went under the arms. It was going to be very painful for the soldier, especially putting weight on his injured foot, and he asked one of the other doctors for the key to the medicine box and took out a quantity of laudanum and a small amount of pure opium.
‘I’ve never tekken owt like that afore,’ William said to him, watching him store it in his bag.
‘As a matter of fact, you have,’ Jamie replied. ‘I’ve given you it on two occasions to help you sleep.’
‘Have you? I didn’t realize,’ William said. ‘Was I shouting?’
‘Just a bit,’ Jamie said, ‘and keeping me awake.’ He grinned. He’d slept in a spare bed in the anteroom as there were just the two of them.
‘Thanks, doctor,’ William said. ‘I’ll try not to mek a habit of it.’
As soon as the crutches were ready and Thorp had tried them out and discovered that the red-hot pain in both leg and foot was going to be worse than he had expecte
d, Jamie made plans to leave and arranged a lift in a waggon to the railway station.
‘Sorry you’re leaving us, Dr James,’ Sergeant Thomas said. ‘Any chance that you might come back?’
Jamie looked round the hospital ward. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘In a way I’m sorry to leave when I know how much help is required, but I have to get back to London and find out my results and sort out various things’ – one of which would be to write to Hunter’s parents. ‘I came away in a hurry,’ he told the sergeant. ‘Never even told my family where I was going. I’ll be in hot water with my father when I do get back.’
‘Very good then, sir.’ Sergeant Thomas saluted him. ‘Been a pleasure knowing you.’
‘Likewise.’ Jamie put his hand out and shook the sergeant’s. ‘I’ll write and let you know if I’m coming back.’
The railway journey to central London was agony for the corporal; Jamie could see his fatigue and pain, but he didn’t want to give him strong medication yet, otherwise he might fall asleep. He’d given him a few grains of opium to ease the pain and then realized that he’d never get him on the train heading north that day. There was only one thing to do and that was to take him back to his own lodgings, where he hoped that his landlady had kept his room; he had told her that he would be away for only a few days.
He flagged a horse cab to take them to the lodgings and the driver asked if the corporal had been out in the Crimea. William was wearing his regulation red cloth coatee with tail flaps, with a flannel shirt beneath it and dark grey trousers, one leg of which had been cut to accommodate the splint. On his head he wore a dark blue forage cap with a blue pom-pom on the top and not the peaked shako that he said the men hated, as they were so uncomfortable. He wore only one boot as he couldn’t get the other over his septic bandaged foot, but had put it and his greatcoat in his knapsack, along with his spare boots, socks and blanket. Jamie had offered to carry the pack on his back.
‘Aye,’ William told the driver. ‘And glad to be out of it.’
‘We beat ’em though, didn’t we,’ the driver said as he urged the horse on through the traffic. ‘Marching towards Sevastopol now.’
‘God go wi’ em,’ William muttered. ‘There’ll be some bloodshed afore it’s over.’
When they reached the lodging house and Jamie and the driver helped William out, the driver tipped his forehead, shook hands with him and refused the fare. ‘My contribution to the war effort,’ he said. ‘To all our brave lads.’ He looked at Jamie for a moment. ‘Went to fetch him home, did you, sir?’
Jamie shook his head. ‘No. I’m a doctor. Tended the wounded.’
So he too was given a firm handshake, which oddly enough, he thought, since he felt he had done little, made him feel quite proud.
The landlady greeted him exuberantly. ‘I wondered where you and Dr Hunt had got to, sir; I’ve kept your rooms though I could have let them ten times over. But I knew you’d let me know if you weren’t coming back and, besides, all your things are here. I’ve kept the rooms dusted and aired and only this morning I lit a fire. There’s lots of post for you, and Dr Hunt too; where is he, do you know?’
‘First can we get this young man to a chair or bed, Mrs Whitfield? He’s badly in need of medication. Then I’ll tell you all the news, and it’s not good I’m afraid.’
William was helped upstairs to Jamie’s room and fell on to the bed, beaten by pain and exhaustion. Jamie gave him a dose of laudanum and then went down to give his landlady the news of Hunter and to ask if the corporal could stay for a day or two.
She was very shocked to hear of Hunter’s death. ‘Such a jolly young man.’ She held a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘I can’t believe it.’
Now that Jamie was back at their shared lodgings, he too comprehended more forcibly the impact of his friend’s death. Whilst working at the hospital, it had somehow seemed illusory and unreal, but now the knowledge of it was hitting him hard and he was totally downhearted and depressed.
He explained that he was escorting Thorp back home and asked if he might stay until he was fit to travel.
‘He can have Dr Hunt’s room,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he won’t – wouldn’t have minded in the least. Oh dear!’ She turned away. ‘Such news.’ She took a deep sniffing breath. ‘I’ll get you and the soldier some food, Mr Lucan, or are you Dr Lucan now?’ she said hopefully.
‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly. ‘And somehow it doesn’t seem quite as important as it once did.’
There was a pile of post waiting for Hunter and this he put to one side to send to Hunter’s parents along with his own letter of condolence. When they had finished their soup and he’d changed Thorp’s dressing he helped him into bed in Hunter’s room and then returned to his to glance through his own letters. One, judging from the heading on the envelope and the style of address – Dr J. Lucan – he knew would be the result of his exams and although he was keen to know how well he had done he was drawn to three envelopes addressed to him in his brother’s handwriting and another from one of his sisters, Frances or Mary. There was also another in a scrawled hand which he didn’t recognize.
He decided to open the latest letter from Felix, postmarked two days ago, rather than the two earlier ones, one of which must have arrived just after he had left for Blackwall.
It began tersely and without preamble.
James,
As you haven’t bothered to reply to either of my previous letters I am writing to tell you that you are too late. Father died two days ago in his sleep.
If you have any concern at all, the contents of his Will will be read straight after his funeral next Wednesday. There will be little enough for you or our sisters but you will be expected to attend.
Your brother,
Felix Lucan.
Jamie read the letter again before it dropped from his hand. What? How? Why? What had been the matter with his father? He had had a series of chesty coughs but nothing to indicate that he was severely ill. He got up and paced about, confused, unbelieving and bereft at his father’s death, especially coming so soon after the death of his friend.
He groaned and put his head in his hands. Then, trying to get his thoughts in order, he reached for Felix’s other letters and opened them. The first advised him that his brother was going to be married to a young woman whom Jamie wouldn’t know as she was from Lincolnshire, the daughter of a man with a vast amount of land which needed managing. He then mentioned quite casually that their father had agreed to sell the estate as he didn’t feel well enough himself and there would be no one to run it if he, Felix, moved away; but he would keep two of the farms to generate income for Frances and Mary until such time as they married.
The second letter, written shortly before the final one, asked Jamie to come at all speed as their father was very ill and not expected to recover. Frances and Mary were already on their way to see him for the last time.
‘How can Felix blame me for not being there, for that is how it appears to sound,’ he muttered angrily. ‘There was nothing in his earlier letter to imply that there was any urgency, only in the second one, and by then, from the sound of things, it was already too late.’
He was outraged by his brother’s accusation and devastated by the news of his father’s death.
A sudden noise brought him to his senses. It was Thorp shouting in his sleep; nightmares, Jamie thought. Who knows what torments are driving him? He went to the door of his room and encountered Mrs Whitfield coming up the stairs.
‘What’s wrong?’ The landlady’s face was creased with anxiety. ‘Is Corporal Thorp worse? Should we send for a doctor?’
‘He’s no worse, Mrs Whitfield,’ he said. ‘But the pain disturbs his sleep.’ Then he gave a slight smile, even though he felt not in the least humorous. ‘And I am a doctor!’
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JAMIE DIDN’T OPEN his other letters until just before climbing into bed at almost midnight. He had sat for some time debating the consequence
s of his father’s death and his brother’s marriage and wondering if the latter would be delayed in deference to his father’s passing. But he doubted that would enter Felix’s thinking. He was also concerned about his sisters. They were still young and he hoped that their aunt would continue to act as their chaperon.
He turned to his letter from the Royal College of Surgeons and discovered that he had passed his final exams with Honours; there was also a personal letter from the Principal congratulating him on his results.
He heaved out a breath. Well, that’s a hurdle over with, and I should be cock-a-hoop with joy, but I’m not; since my friend and would-be colleague and my father are dead, my world seems to have shattered.
There was yet more unfortunate news as the letter with unrecognizable handwriting was from Bob Hopkins to tell him that his brother had already given him notice in view of selling up the farm. Mrs Greenwood too it seemed had been told she would be dismissed, unless a new buyer wanted to take her on, as had Bob’s mother, who was the cook.
‘I am writing to you, Dear Sir, Mr Jamie Esquire,’ Bob had continued, ‘to ask if you are any nearer to becoming a doctor and in need of a coachman or a man about the place as I cannot see my way to doing anything else as hosses has been my life.’ He had signed at the bottom, ‘Your humble servant, Robert Hopkins.’
This latter was the final straw and Jamie sat on the edge of his bed and wept for the loss of his father, his friend and all his familiar childhood memories which were now shredded and blown away like chaff in the wind.
He had already consulted his Bradshaw to work out the best and quickest way home. They’d travel from King’s Cross railway station by the Great Northern line to Peterborough and York and then change trains for Hull. If his father’s funeral was on Wednesday they could travel on Monday, which this being Thursday should give Thorp sufficient time to recover and prepare for the journey. On arrival Jamie could visit Dr Birchfield and hope to stay the night with him before going on to Holderness the following day.
