The Guernsey Saga Box Set

by Diana Bachmann

  Sue’s heart sank.

  Jessica was with them. “If it’s a matter of cost . . .”

  Ted smiled. “No, dear. It’s more than that. As I see it, they would be homeless for months, spend a fortune and finish up with a mish-mash. To be honest, one could put up a brand new purpose-built bungalow with no steps to negotiate, for less than the cost of an inadequate conversion.”

  Jessica looked at her daughter-in-law. “Well? What do you think?”

  The thought of exchanging the quaint old dower wing for a modern bungalow was not a happy one. However, she smiled, shrugged her shoulders and said, “You’re the expert, Uncle Ted. If that’s what it takes, then that’s what we must do. We’d better start looking at possible sites. I wonder if we’d get permission to build in the field at the bottom of the road?”

  “Wouldn’t that be a bit far for Jonathan to get to and from the hotel?” Jessica asked. “What about the area behind my place, where the apple trees are?”

  “That would be even closer to you than we are already.”

  “Indeed. And I don’t doubt we may be useful to each other in the coming years.” She gave a wry grin. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. I will need someone to keep an eye on me in my old age.”

  Sue put an arm round her and gave her a hug. “Why don’t we put on our coats and take a look?” If it looked feasible she could broach the subject with Jonathan on her visit tonight.

  “What will we do with the dower wing?” was his first question. He wasn’t keen to part with it, either, but he accepted that it simply wasn’t possible for him to go back there to live. Not ever.

  “Use it as an annexe, perhaps, or let it as a self-catering unit. Old places of character are very popular,” Sue said brightly. Jonathan shrugged in a gesture of helplessness.

  *

  “Do you think we should have a welcome home party?” Sue asked her mother-in-law.

  “I wonder,” Jessica mused. “Of course we want him to know how much we’ve all missed him and want him back in situ, but perhaps he would rather just be met by you and the children.” She cocked her head on one side. “Of course he has always enjoyed a good party. What are your feelings on the subject?”

  “Coming home, crippled, is going to be traumatic for him; maybe a bunch of friends and family would break the ice?”

  “Good thinking. Right, let’s do it. What time of day is he likely to arrive home?”

  “I could arrange it for late afternoon. Better not make it an evening do: he’s used to early nights at the hospital.”

  Sue and Terry organised drinks; Sarah boiled a ham and made bowls of salad, Jessica made soup and boozy desserts and Edna and John provided homemade bread baked in an old furze oven on cabbage leaves, along with round pats of Guernsey butter. Norton assembled their group of friends who arrived with balloons and a huge cake iced with the words, NOW PERHAPS YOU WILL LOOK WHERE YOU ARE GOING IN FUTURE! Sarah goggled at it in horror when she saw it, but Sue laughed and assured her that Jonathan would enjoy the teasing.

  The ambulance arrived at five o’clock.

  “You’re looking very smart,” the patient observed as an ambulance man pushed the wheelchair up the wooden ramp Sue had asked the carpenter to make. “Is this in honour of my homecoming?”

  “Of course, my darling.” Sue bent and kissed him briefly, turned to the ambulance men to thank them and took over the handling of the chair.

  “Sure you can manage, ma’am? Wouldn’t you like us to get him into the room for you?”

  “No thanks,” Sue responded hastily, not wanting strangers to witness the coming scene. “I can manage from here on.” And she busied herself in the hallway, removing his hat and rugs until the men had gone.

  Then she opened the sitting room door.

  “Welcome home!” everyone shouted together.

  Sue watched anxiously as Jonathan’s mouth fell open in astonishment, and sighed with relief as a big grin spread over his scarred face.

  He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. “You little demon, you!” Then to the crowd in general added “Any flipping excuse for a party, huh?”

  At first, everyone was painfully aware of the livid scars on his face, but they were soon forgotten as the ribbing and leg-pulling progressed.

  Jonathan laughed a lot, obviously enjoying himself – much to Sue’s relief – and when he wheeled himself into the dining room, saw the cake and read the message thereon he gave a great shout. “Who the hell’s idea was this?” he swung round to stare at Tiny, the huge, ex-army cook, now turned hotelier. “Yours I suppose.”

  “Trouble with you navy guys,” Tiny growled, “when you get into a car you imagine you still have the width of an ocean to play with.”

  “At least I don’t drive round the island regularly widening all the roads,” Jonathan said solemnly, referring to the big man’s tortured car. “Though in your case,” he added, eyeing Tiny’s girth, “it is understandable.”

  The room rocked with laughter as the banter continued. Then everyone queued to help themselves from the buffet laid out on the dining table.

  “No thanks, I’m quite capable of helping myself,” Jonathan responded to offers to serve his meal.

  They sat around in various rooms with plates perched precariously on their knees while Terry circulated topping up glasses. While some of the girls cleared the empty plates, Sue and Jessica served coffee and liquers.

  And the noise level continued to rise until nearly ten o’clock when Norton raised a hand. “I think that wheelchair is beginning to look a bit shaky. Sue, why don’t you get your old man out of it and give it a rest?”

  Gratefully, Sue winked at him as the other guests took the hint and began collecting their coats.

  “Great party, Jonathan. You must do this again, sometime,” Penny said, straightfaced, as she led the guests out into the teeth of a gale.

  “No way! I don’t wish to be accused of dominating the action! It will be your turn, next.” He returned her kiss, shook hands with the boys and allowed his mother and mother-in-law to kiss him, too, as they collected up their dishes and left.

  He was waiting by the fire when Sue came back in after locking the front door. “To repeat tonight’s well-worn phrase, ‘a great party’, darling.” He took hold of her hand and held it to his cheek.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Enormously. But I am jolly tired.”

  “Okay. Bed it shall be. You’ll have to tell me exactly what to do, and how to do it. I haven’t a clue about nursing but I’m a willing pupil.”

  “Then I’ll make allowances, just for tonight.”

  *

  Despite finally falling into bed very late and completely exhausted, Sue woke bright and early next morning after a solid sleep. Accustomed to early hospital hours, Jonathan was awake early, too, wanting to be dressed and have his breakfast.

  Sue had planned a reasonably restful day, so that Jonathan could become acclimatised to the new routine, but before she could open the subject he proved to have plans of his own.

  “I want you to phone Terry and ask him to help you get me into the hotel. I want to see what’s happening with the extensions.”

  “Tomorrow. You must be tired out after coming home from the hospital, and walking into a rather rowdy party.” She was concerned that his recovery should continue unheeded.

  “Now,” he said, without looking up, “It may be raining again tomorrow.”

  Somewhat surprised by his tone, and reckoning an argument would probably tire him more than doing what he wanted, she shrugged and said, “Very well.” Maybe he would feel better when he saw how well the alterations had progressed.

  She was wrong. “Hmm. I can’t see it’s necessary to have all these extra interior walls,” he grumbled a quarter of an hour later, as Terry helped navigate the chair round the builders’ rubble. “What’s this one for?”

  “That’s between the corridor and the resident’s bar,” Sue explained.

 
; “What corridor? Where does it lead?”

  “To the loos and to the residents’ telephone. And through a door at the end to the garden.”

  “Why on earth have a corridor there? Makes the whole room smaller!”

  “It’s against regulations to have toilets opening directly from a public room,” Terry told him.

  “Rubbish! What about the bar at the Trefoil?” referring to a local pub.

  “They had to put a lobby inside both Gents and Ladies, then a washroom before you reach the loos,” Sue said. “Far more walls and doors than this.”

  “I want to see the builder as soon as possible. And why haven’t these windows been glazed yet?”

  Sue’s heart sank. Nothing seemed to please him.

  After lunch and a sleep, in the warmth of the sitting room, with Stephanie on his knee and Roddy playing with a wooden lorry on the hearthrug, Jonathan was more relaxed. He shared some of Jessica’s gache with the baby, and Sue’s chocolate sponge cake, brushing away the crumbs with a laugh. “What a treat to have homemade food again, and drink out of proper china cups instead of those awful thick ones in hospitals.” He smiled appreciatively at his family. “It is good to be home at last.”

  That night when the children were in bed Jonathan asked for a whisky.

  “Are you sure you should? You had a lot of champagne yesterday. Won’t it clash with your medication?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  Again to avoid an argument, Sue gave in and poured him a thin one in plenty of water.

  “Now, I’ve been thinking.” From the canvas bag suspended from his chair he took a notepad and pen. “I’ve made notes of all the things we must do and plan. Obviously my physical contribution to the hotel is limited by this damn chair, so you will have to take over some of my responsibilities.” He flicked over the pages. “Between you, you and Terry will have to be the available management presence, much of the time, to iron out residents’ problems and queries. I know this won’t apply before we open next Easter, but we must be well organised in advance.” He paused to savour another shot of whisky.

  Sue took the opportunity to interrupt. “There will be a hitch to that arrangement I’m afraid . . .”

  He raised his head, frowning. “Oh, what?”

  She took a deep breath. “Our next baby is due in June.” She knew she should not have waited so long to tell him, but the moment had never seemed right: now she had no option. She prayed he would be as thrilled as when she had told him about Roddy and then Stephanie. Smiling, she waited . . . and was totally unprepared for his violent reaction.

  “Shit!” The notepad flew across the room just missing a porcelain vase on a small table. “How the hell did that happen? You stupid cow! All the notes and planning I’ve been doing for the past couple of weeks are for nothing!” He drained his glass and banged it down so hard Sue feared it would smash. “Shit!” he yelled again, “What a bloody waste of time and energy.” He glared at her. “I wondered what you were grinning about just now, you damn fool!” His eyes narrowed. “You couldn’t possibly have imagined I would welcome the news, could you?”

  Shocked, eyes swimming, Sue nodded, speechless.

  “Then you are even more stupid than I thought. It has to be the worst possible thing to happen to us, barring my accident.” He picked up his glass and held it out towards her. “You’d better get me another drink.”

  Hours later, after undressing, washing and coping with Jonathan’s other needs before easing him into his temporary bed in the dining room, Sue climbed wearily upstairs, checking the children before getting to bed herself. Though utterly exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, it was impossible to sleep. She didn’t merely feel hurt – she was totally shattered. What had happened to Jonathan? Why was he behaving like this? Why blame her for being pregnant when he knew perfectly well they had both enjoyed an occasional, impromptu risk? And the hotel extension too; he had approved the plans before work had ever started. What had changed him so much? Was it the fact of being crippled? But the accident had happened over two months ago and he had never spoken to her like that when he was in hospital . . . why he should start now was beyond her. She searched her mind for anything she could have said or done to upset him, triggering this evening’s display of uncharacteristic behaviour. At one-thirty she gave up, crept down to the kitchen to make herself a mug of cocoa. Before carrying it up to her room she peeped in at Jonathan; he lay sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly open, his usual gentle snore in rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest. She smiled. Poor darling, it must be torture to come home in that state, knowing it was for life. She must try to understand and not react badly when he became aggressive.

  After reading a while and finishing her cocoa, Sue turned out the light at two-thirty and was asleep in seconds. And at three o’clock she was woken by the electric buzzer by her bed. Dragging on her dressing gown she hurried down to see what Jonathan wanted.

  “Water, please.”

  “Here it is, darling, on the table beside you.”

  “No point putting it there if you don’t tell me.”

  Sue opened her mouth to say she had told him it was there, and made sure it was well within his reach . . . but changed her mind. “Anything else, my love?”

  He turned his head to give her a brief, wan smile. “No thanks,” then closed his eyes.

  *

  “You’d better get a girl to come and work full time; she can look after the children while you’re working up at the hotel. If you train her well, she will be able to act as the new baby’s nanny, then you’ll be free to get back to the hotel as soon after the birth as you can.” Jonathan was sitting in his chair at the dining table which was pushed against the wall opposite his bed. Papers were strewn across it, bills, receipts, invoices, bookings for next year all jumbled up together.

  “I’ll have to leave off at feeding times.”

  “The baby can go straight on bottle feed, can’t it?”

  “I’d prefer to feed it myself . . .”

  “Well it won’t be possible, will it? Now will you pop over to the site and tell the foreman to come and see me. I want some of these invoices explained.”

  “Okay. Give me five minutes, I’ve got something on the gas at the moment.”

  “Well turn it off. It can wait.”

  Biting her lip but without another word, Sue did as she was ordered.

  *

  The new bungalow was ready for them by the second week of the new year. Jonathan had shown no interest whatsoever in its design or construction, leaving all the details to Sue. Every possible thing to help his mobility had been thought of: ramps, wide door frames, the height of shelves and counters in the kitchen, a special bathroom in which he could use the bath, basin and loo with a minimum of help. Door handles were at the necessary height. A team of removers, supervised by Sue, spent a full day transferring furniture the four or so hundred yards from the dower. Jonathan insisted that the dining table and his papers be left till last, and then had had himself taken up to the hotel bar.

  Greg, Sarah and Jessica took charge of their grandchildren for the day, while Edna and John, Emmy and Anne Warwick helped find new homes for the china and glass, linen and clothes.

  “I’ll make up your bed and the children’s cots,” Edna insisted from behind a pile of cardboard boxes. “Emmy, you go and put on the kettle and make tea for Mrs Martel; she’s going into the sitting room to put her feet up for ten minutes.”

  “But I—”

  “Suzanne! Do as you’re told. I’ve never seen you look so tired, with those deep dark rings round your eyes. Go on!” Edna could be quite fierce when she chose.

  Sue put an arm round her shoulders and gave her a hug. “All right, you old bully! Just to please you,” and dodged through the boxes to her new, comparatively characterless, sitting room. She knew, of course, that she wasn’t complying simply to please her aunt: she was exhausted.

  *

  Over the Christm
as and New Year period Jonathan had occasionally apologised after a particularly bad outburst of temper, and smiling, Sue said she understood. When asked if he approved the facilities in the bungalow, Jonathan was invariably non-committal: he showed no interest. He had agreed they should share their double bed, but from the first night when Sue attempted to put an arm across his chest and cuddle into him, he had fended her off, never reciprocating. Lying awake in the small hours one could invent any number of excuses for his attitude, but Sue never felt they qualified as valid reasons. She would wait until he was sleeping soundly then gently move close enough to feel his warmth. And in the freshness of a new morning, giggling with her babies as their cereals went Snap, Crackle and Pop! she reprimanded herself for being super-critical.

  *

  Near the end of March, just two weeks before the hotel reopened for the season, Terry tackled her on an upstairs landing. “Who have you got to run the bar for the guests every afternoon during the summer?”

  Sue looked up from the list of jobs still to be done before the first guests arrived. “What do you mean? I thought you . . .”

  “Me! And what about my afternoons off?”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “You mean you expect me to work from sun-up until the last guest leaves the bar at two a.m., seven days a week?”

  “Oh Terry! Don’t be so silly, you know I don’t expect any such thing! I’m sorry,” she shook her head, “it simply slipped my mind. Of course we must have someone stand in for you. And you must have a full day and a half off every week. Any ideas for an assistant?”

  “No. You’re the boss, so you do the hiring and firing.”

  Sue wasn’t sure she liked his tone: almost resentful? “I’ll have a word with Jonathan about it.”

  Terry raised one eyebrow, gave a half smile and walked away.

  She broached the subject that evening at supper.

  Jonathan didn’t bother to look up from his newspaper. “Can’t see that will be necessary. I’m sure you will be able to sit comfortably behind the bar for a couple of hours in the afternoons while he takes a rest.”