by Annie Groves
Pop was bursting with pride for his wife. ‘That’s my Dolly. With women like you on the Home Front, Hitler doesn’t stand a chance.’
Frank slowly opened his eyes a few hours later and caught sight of Kitty looking through the window. He beckoned her into the recovery ward. Kitty was glad to see he was alone.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Kit.’ He smiled sleepily. ‘I wish I wasn’t stuck in here. We could go for a little dance in the walled gardens at the back of the hospital.’
‘Not in your pyjamas, you won’t!’ Kitty said, overwhelmed by a bout of bashfulness. Suddenly she could not think of a word to say. She stood silently at the foot of Frank’s bed.
‘I thought you were a figment of my imagination, standing there …’ He smiled and patted the bedclothes. ‘Come and sit here, let me look at you.’
‘I can’t sit on your bed; Matron will have me frogmarched out of here and shot!’ Kitty smiled. ‘Not long out of the operating theatre and you’re joking already.’ She smiled, enjoying his impudence very much. However, it would not do to let him know that. ‘Did they remove your manners, too?’
‘They must have, Kit. Sorry, there is a chair over there. I would get it for you but …’ Frank gave a low rumbling laugh.
‘Don’t laugh, Frank, you’ll hurt yourself,’ she said hurriedly, anxious that her presence wouldn’t cause him any more pain.
‘Too late,’ Frank winced, his hollow cheeks giving a little lift as he tried to make light of it. Kitty could see he was not making the best job of hiding the pain and her heart went out to him. He had been through so much more than she could ever imagine. His mind as well as his body needed time to heal, she was sure.
‘You’re in the best place, Frank … I’ll go and tell the nurse you’re awake,’ Kitty said.
‘No! It’s fine, you haven’t got much time … They’ll be ringing the bell soon.’
‘But you’re in pain.’ It was a wonder he was even awake, let alone talking. It was agonising watching him like this. If she could take his pain away, she would.
‘I’ll live.’ Frank managed a weak smile, obviously tired now. ‘I feel so much better for seeing you.’ His eyelids were heavy and it was an effort for him to keep them open. ‘I can’t think of a better tonic.’
‘You daft ha’p’orth, what did you say that for?’ Kitty smiled.
‘I thought you’d like to know.’ Frank gave a tortured laugh, just a little one, but clearly agonising.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to call the nurse?’
‘No, Kit, I just want to look at you,’ Frank answered, and Kitty realised that he was still under the influence of the anaesthetic; he must think he was talking to someone else.
‘Well, you just concentrate on getting better.’ She had been here too long, Kitty knew. The nurses must have forgotten she was here in this little room alone with the only man who had ever taken up space in her heart. In her wildest dreams, Kitty had never imagined the two of them together in this way. What a strange twist of fate that he should be injured and she should be the only one with him. Even though Frank was in dreadful pain she couldn’t help but feel privileged and blessed to be here alone with him.
However, it was cruel to keep him from his recuperation. A stab of guilt unsettled her. She had to admit it was nice to know that he had asked to see her, though, imagining a familiar face was always welcome. Kitty smoothed her hair, knowing it always looked a fright after she’d been in the NAAFI kitchen all morning.
‘You must be …’ She faltered, unable to tell him she had worn him out.
‘Handsome?’ Frank offered. ‘Wonderful?’
‘Yes, all of those, O modest one,’ Kitty laughed.
‘Tell the truth, I look like someone who’s just been cut in half,’ Frank said now, his eyes heavy. His smile was only an echo of the ones she had seen before. Kitty dreaded to think how Dolly would feel when she saw him.
Kitty straightened the sheets and then pressed them gently with the palm of her hand as Frank fought to keep his eyes on her all the time. It was an effort for him to lift his hand, she could tell, and she knew she should leave now, but she could not drag herself away. He had been gone so long.
Frank took her hand in his and he said, ‘It’s nice of you to care, Kit,’ before his lids gave up the fight and closed. ‘You won’t tell anyone I’m here, will you?’ A lazy smile lifted his handsome features. She could not take her eyes from him. He looked so perfect …
Kitty felt a strong rush of warmth flood her face and neck when Frank said in a sleepy voice, ‘I’d like it if you could call in now and then, though.’
‘I’ll call in every day,’ Kitty whispered. ‘I’ll bring you something nice to have for your afternoon tea.’
‘You make the best scones …’ Frank let out an appreciative sigh.
‘Scones it is then,’ Kitty whispered and, taking a furtive glance around, wondered if anybody would notice if she stole a kiss. One small, friendly kiss to show he was not alone … She was captivated by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest; certain he was now fast asleep.
Leaning over the edge of the bed, she placed a gentle kiss on Frank’s warm cheek. He smelled of anaesthetic but she did not care as her finger traced the outline of his full, sensual lips. She made a gentle dot on the tip of his strong chin, before leaving him in peace.
As she turned to leave, his fingers suddenly hooked hers and Kitty’s heart felt as if it would leap from her chest. Just as quickly, he relaxed. Sighing softly, she crept from the ward, leaving Frank to sleep … and to heal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Are we nearly there, can’t you go any faster?’ Dolly Feeny fretted as her husband pulled the reins and steered the horses towards Derby Road. The sun was starting to set and the sky was a vibrant riot of oranges and purples. The day had been a glorious one and it was set to be another one tomorrow – who knew what it would bring?
‘Don’t be so impatient, Doll,’ he said before stopping in front of the Infirmary. He pulled the horses to a stop and helped his wife to the ground. Once inside she took out a lace handkerchief and put it across her nose to eliminate the heady smell of ether and disinfectant.
Pop and Dolly approached the reception desk and said who they were and why they were here. The receptionist asked them to take a seat and they both sat down, Dolly wringing her hands. Pop didn’t like hospitals, he hated the smell and the closeness of death … he banished the thought …
‘Come with me.’ A young nurse smiled at them both, and Dolly found her smile reassuring. The woman’s rubber-soled shoes squeaked down the long shiny corridor and she led them through a door marked ‘Men’s Surgical Ward’.
As they entered they saw, flanking each side of the long ward, a row of iron beds, and Rita was there smiling at her parents.
However, Dolly was only interested in one occupant.
‘Here he is, large as life and twice as handsome,’ said the nurse.
Dolly caught her breath. She couldn’t believe it. Her Frank, battered, bruised and not in great shape, but all in one piece at least! She was at his bedside in no time at all.
‘Hiya, Ma, how y’ doin’?’ Frank was drowsily trying to lift his hand in salute. Dolly could see the effort was too much as it fell onto the pillow.
‘Oh, Frank!’ Dolly said. ‘How are you, son? When did you get home? Rita, when did you find out about this?’
‘Don’t be cross, Mam. I knew he was coming back, but Frank had sworn me to secrecy until he’d had his operation. We couldn’t tell you, Mam. You’d have gone out of your mind with worry.’
‘You gang of artful dodgers,’ Dolly said, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.
‘I didn’t want you to see me like this, Mam.’ Frank gave her a lazy smile while Dolly shoved her daughter out of the way and hugged him to her ample bosom.
‘She’ll suffocate him.’ Pop rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘He’s been through enough already.’ Pop gently pris
ed his elder son from Dolly’s tenacious grip and sat her in a straight-backed chair.
‘Oh, look at him,’ she said, straightening his bedclothes and smoothing his hair. ‘Those bloody Germans.’ Then the relief at seeing Frank got the better of her along with the effort of keeping a stiff upper lip and she burst into tears.
‘Mam, please don’t cry,’ Frank pleaded. ‘I’ll be right as nine-pence soon.’
‘I’m sorry, love.’ Dolly wiped her tears and did her best to pull herself together. ‘It’s just the shock. I’ve got a million questions.’
‘And there’ll be plenty of time to ask them when he’s feeling stronger.’ Pop knew he had to get her out of there soon as they were getting unsympathetic looks from the nurse.
‘I’ll have you home in no time,’ Dolly promised. ‘I’ll get a nurse to come to the house every day. I will pay the doctor. I’ll pay the surgeon …’ Pop put his finger to his lips and she promised to sit quietly, stroking Frank’s head until he nodded off again. It reminded her of when he was a young boy. ‘He belongs here by the Mersey, not in the middle of the Atlantic being tossed around like a cork in a bottle.’
‘I’m sorry, but it’s time for visitors to leave now,’ the young Irish nurse with frizzy red hair was telling them.
‘But we’ve only just got here!’ Dolly was adamant she would not move. ‘I’m his mother, he needs me!’
‘You can see him again tomorrow, Mrs Feeny.’ The nurse was just as determined. ‘Frank needs all the rest he can get after his operation.’ Her voice softened, and she continued a little more gently, ‘Maybe you could bring his clean pyjamas later this afternoon. I’ll have a word with Matron.’
‘But I’ve brought some with me already …’
The lively nurse gave her an exaggerated wink.
‘Ah!’ said Dolly, comprehending. ‘I’ll do that very thing.’ Dolly realised matters were beyond her control and she bent to kiss her son. ‘I know you will do your best.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Feeny.’ The nurse stepped aside to allow the family to leave, but still Dolly was reluctant to go.
‘I’ll be back later, son,’ she gave the nurse a pointed stare, ‘and I’ll bring lots of fruit to build up his strength.’ Dolly sniffed and said again, ‘We’ll have him home in no time.’
‘I am sure you will, Mrs Feeny,’ said Maeve, who recognised a feisty woman when she saw one.
‘Thanks, Ma, you’re the best.’ Frank’s eyes were already closed. ‘See you, Pop.’ Pop shook his son’s hand but knew he was already asleep before they even reached the bottom of the bed.
They kept him in their sights until the very last second and then each was lost in his or her own thoughts.
It was Pop who broke the silence when he said to Dolly, ‘He looks better than I thought he would.’ Dolly was so wrung out with conflicting emotions she had to sit down outside the ward to take it all in.
‘I’ll bring a good dinner next time.’
‘They wouldn’t allow it, old girl,’ Pop said. ‘I am sure they can feed him well enough …’ he hesitated, ‘although maybe not as good as you can.’ Dolly gave a little sniff and dabbed her eyes.
‘He won’t be worrying about food for a while, though, Dolly.’ Pop rubbed her hand.
‘Oh, Pop,’ she pulled her hand away, ‘there but for the grace of God go we.’
Scooping her from the chair, he steered her down the corridor. As they made to leave, they heard a well-spoken voice calling after them.
‘Mr and Mrs Feeny? May I have a word?’
Dolly and Pop turned. He introduced himself as Dr Fitzgerald and told them that he was one of the doctors looking after Frank.
‘He’s doing well, isn’t he, Doctor?’ Pop commented.
‘Well, that is what I wanted to speak to you about.’ This was going to be the hard bit, the doctor thought.
Dolly and Pop looked at each other, both wide-eyed with dread.
Dr Fitzgerald continued, ‘A piece of shrapnel is lodged in his thigh bone. We’ve done everything we can to remove it but unfortunately, the wound has become infected and caused blood poisoning.’
Pop understood immediately, but Dolly was struggling to take in this horrible turn of events and was in no fit state to receive the news. She shrugged off Pop’s arm place protectively around her shoulders and grabbed Dr Fitzgerald’s arm, stricken.
‘Doctor, I want you to tell me the truth now, is he going to die? You have to tell me. I’ve got to know!’ Tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘I hope not, Mrs Feeny, but the next twenty-four hours are critical. Even if we manage to halt the infection in its tracks, the damage already done to his leg could have a serious impact. He may lose it, I’m afraid.’
Dolly and Pop were speechless. This was terrible news. The thought that their strapping lad Frank could lose his leg was an awful thought.
‘Everything depends on how your son reacts over the next day or so.’
‘My lad’s strong. He’s an athlete. The boxing champion of his unit. Of course, he’s going to make it.’
‘All of those things will help a great deal, Mr Feeny,’ the doctor agreed.
‘Anyway,’ Pop said, with more bravery than he felt, ‘what God would want to face my Dolly’s wrath on Judgment Day if anything happened to her lad? Of course our Frank’s not going to die. God wouldn’t dare!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
July 1940
Frank’s condition had worsened. He slipped into unconsciousness and the doctors had battled for forty-eight hours to save his life. The Feeny family had never been closer; even Nancy, unable to leave baby George had selflessly held the fort at home. Dolly kept a vigil at her son’s side and only left when the matron insisted that she go home and rest. But no rest was forthcoming for any of them.
Finally, Dr Fitzgerald delivered the news that they were dreading.
‘In order to save Frank’s life, we’ve taken the decision to amputate beneath his knee. It was the only way. He is stable and his vital signs are already showing signs of improvement.’
In their marriage, Pop had always been the strong one, but the news that his son had lost one of his limbs reduced him to tears. It was Dolly who was the strength for them this time.
‘Where there’s life, there’s hope, Pop – isn’t that what you always say?’
‘Yes, Doll.’ Pop wiped away a tear. ‘Will he make a full recovery, Doctor? he asked.
‘All being well, with plenty of patience and time, Frank should be as right as rain in all other respects. Since the last war, great strides have been made in designing new limbs for unfortunate men such as your son.’
Dolly stood and faced the doctor. ‘Thank you,’ she said with passion. ‘You’ve given my son another chance at life and I’ll never forget that.’
As well as the Feeny family, the other stalwart at Frank’s bedside was Kitty. Every lunchtime, on her break from the NAAFI canteen, she could be found at the hospital. Due to being in isolation because of the infection, Frank’s visits were limited to just his very close family. Kitty wasn’t allowed in to see Frank, but she patiently waited for news with the family, ferrying cups of tea backwards and forwards and keeping their spirits up.
‘That Kitty has been a godsend, Pop,’ observed Dolly, as Kitty went off to fetch her a glass of water as they sat waiting for news in the hospital’s visiting room. The hospital staff were very strict about who could see Frank and when, but Dolly had made friends with Nurse Kerrigan, who had turned out to be a distant cousin of Sid Kerrigan, and she was occasionally allowed in when the ward was quiet and Matron and Sister were elsewhere. ‘I think she might be soft on our Frank. Can’t think why I haven’t noticed it before.’
‘I don’t think either of them could do better, Doll,’ concurred Pop. ‘But Frank is proud. With the loss of his leg he’ll have a lot to face up to.’
‘Love finds a way, Pop,’ said his wife, sagely. ‘Love finds a way.’
‘D’you like the
navy, Frank?’ Tommy said as they sat looking at photographs of Nancy’s wedding, which Dolly had brought into the hospital to show Frank. The schools were not open just yet but there were unsavoury rumours that it could happen soon.
‘The sea is in my blood, Tom. I can’t imagine doing anything else …’
Pop had been right. Frank had made a good recovery and was making excellent progress, but the loss of his leg had hit him hard. Frank had always known exactly what he wanted to do with his life, but now he couldn’t see the future any more. He thought of himself as a seafarer first and foremost, but that career was denied to him now.
‘Kitty said she was coming to see you this afternoon, whether you like it or not,’ said Tommy.
Frank had been refusing all visits, except for his mother and father and his sister Rita. He was dreading the pitying looks that he was bound to get. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone would feel sorry for him. Especially Kitty. Tommy was the exception to this rule. His youthful innocence and inquisitiveness were a tonic and Frank never felt patronised by the boy.
‘I still don’t want to see anyone. I don’t feel up to it,’ Frank insisted.
Tommy frowned. He knew Frank was smitten by their Kitty, but why didn’t he want to see her? He looked out of the window at all the ships lined up in the dock, the battleships and the sloops, the tugs and the tankers. He loved them all, and vowed that he was staying put. Their Kitty would have to drag him kicking and screaming to evacuation next time. If there ever was a next time!
‘Did your mam tell you that she has a Canadian lodger? He’s in the air force. His brother served with Eddy after Christmas,’ Tommy said with a gleam in his eye.
‘She must have forgotten to mention it,’ Frank said, looking for a piece of jigsaw, his brow furrowed. What was Tommy up to?
‘His name is Ethan. Isn’t that an unusual name?’
‘It is around Empire Street,’ Frank answered, the jigsaw piece raised, waiting for Tommy to speak again.
