by Janet Tanner
He nodded. “ That’s understandable. Well, I’ll leave it to you, Mrs Hall. I’m sure you can arrange something. But you do realize she’ll need attention night and day.”
“She’ll get it, Doctor,” Charlotte said “And if you’re thinking I might leave her, I assure you, you need have no worries on that score. I shouldn’t have left her this, morning, but Jack was here, and I was only down at the Rectory. But I’ll never forgive myself as long as I live. It’s my fault she’s lying there.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself, Mrs Hall,” Dr Scott said gravely. “I suppose it’s no good telling you that, but you can’t be watching children all the time. If you did, you’d make them bundles of nerves. From what I gather, she’d gone in to help Mrs Clements bath the baby, and the foolish woman put the boiling water into the tub first and left the children in the room while she went to fetch the cold. They were playing around, and somehow Amy fell into the water. It was an accident, pure and simple, and if anyone is to blame, it’s Mrs Clements. But she’s probably suffering as much as you are. Guilt is a very hard cross to bear.”
“She should be bloody suffering,” Charlotte spat harshly. “I’d like to push her into a tub of boiling water, and if there was one handy now, I swear I’d do it!”
The doctor did not answer. It was easy to feel that way. He had been visiting the Presleys at number fifteen when Ada had come screaming out into the rank, and when he had run into her kitchen and seen what had happened, his reaction had been much the same. It was criminally stupid to leave children alone in a room with a bathful of boiling water.
But Ada was an object of pity herself—a lank-haired, consumptive-looking woman whose frail body had been worn out by repeated child-bearing and grinding hard work, and whose head was full of worries as to how to make ends meet and how to avoid becoming pregnant yet again. Given the circumstances, it was only surprising that something of the kind had not happened before.
“About paying you, Doctor,” Charlotte said abruptly.
He looked away, embarrassed. “ Don’t worry about it, Mrs Hall.”
“It’s all right. Since I had Harry, we’ve joined the Doctor’s Institute, thank God. And we don’t let the payments lapse through the summer as some do. So you can send your bills in and know they’ll be met.”
He nodded. “We’d have looked after her in any case,” he said gently. “ You need have no fears about that. Now, I dare say Amy will be wanting you.”
“Yes.” She opened the door for him to pass into the hall. “And you’ll look in again, Doctor?”
“As often as I can.”
Jack had got up the courage to come into the kitchen now. He stood beside the sofa where Peggy was comforting Amy, biting his lip and looking the picture of misery. But of Ada Clements, there was no sign.
“She said she had to go,” Peggy told Charlotte as the doctor’s pony and trap made its way down the rank.
“Just as well,” Charlotte retorted. “If she’d stayed here I’d have murdered her, and that’s the truth, Peggy.”
Peggy nodded. “ I can’t say I blame you, Lotty. But what’s done’s done, and it won’t help Amy to have you like this.”
“No, Peg, but I can tell you, it’ll help me!” Charlotte returned, and as she knelt beside the small figure on the sofa, her helpless anger swelled into a great bubble of hatred for Ada Clements and the irresponsible stupidity that might cost Amy her life.
THROUGH the long days and nights that followed, it was the anger that kept Charlotte going.
Dolly came home as often as possible to help nurse her sister and Peggy looked in too, but it was on Charlotte that the brunt of the load fell. She made up a bed for herself on the settle so that Amy would not be left alone at night, but the sleep she was able to snatch was often broken by Amy’s crying. After she had sung her back to sleep she would he fuming with helpless agony, quite unable to sleep again. The days were even worse. The usual tasks of cooking, cleaning and washing seemed interminable, for she could only leave Amy for a few minutes at a time. And twice each day Dr Scott or his senior partner Dr Froster, came to change the dressings.
This was the time Charlotte dreaded most of all, holding Amy down while she screamed and Dr Scott eased the saturated cloth away from the raw scarlet of her back. But with every day that passed, Amy’s chances of surviving became a little better. In the dead of night Charlotte worried about the effect the accident would have on Amy—scarred, perhaps with some permanent disability—but she tried not to think beyond the next day and the next, and thanked God the child was still alive.
So preoccupied was Charlotte, she did not even realize that she had not seen Ada Clements since the day of the accident. She had no way of knowing the torment the other woman was enduring.
On her side of the dividing wall, Ada also found sleep elusive. Over and over again she kept reliving the awful moment when the splash and the scream had reached her in the scullery and she had rushed into the kitchen to find Amy, half-sitting, half-lying, in the bath of boiling water.
Every time she thought of it she turned so cold and weak she thought she was going to faint, and she was so ashamed she could not bring herself to face Lotty. As the schools were on holiday, she was able to send Rosa for what groceries she needed, but in the blazing summer weather, the Hall’s scullery door was left open most of the day, and Ada was afraid even to go across the yard to the privy in case she bumped into Charlotte. This added to her wretchedness, for she had to resort to relieving herself on the white china chamber-pot that was usually reserved for the night time use of Walter and the children. With the rim biting into her scrawny buttocks she sat and wept, thin, helpless sobs taking the place of tears. Why Lotty’s child? she asked herself. If it had to happen at why had it happened to Amy, when Lotty was one of the few people who found it in her to be kind to her.
Lurking wretchedly one morning behind her curtain net, Ada noticed Peggy Yelling come down the rank carrying a folded sheet. The sight made her go cold, for besides being the local midwife, Peggy was also the one sent for by bereaved families to lay out their dead, and Ada assumed the worst.
Weeping again, she sent Wally, the eldest of her boys, to see what he could find out. To her relief, he came back with the news that the sheet was not for a shroud but bandages.
“It’s only used sheet that will do,” he reported. “Mrs Hall’s torn up all her’n already, so the neighbours are chipping in with what they can spare.”
The sense of this escaped Ada, but she thought about it as she went on with her work, and by late afternoon her desire to make amends was almost equal to her fear of facing Charlotte. She went to the bedroom, pulled out the tin trunk where she stored her meagre stock of bed-linen, and chose two sheets. Turned and patched though they were, they were precious to her, but she hesitated for only a moment. If she was unable to replace them and had to spend uncomfortable nights with the rough blanket next to her skin, it was too bad. It would be her own personal hair shirt, and it worried her less than the prospect of delivering the sheets to Charlotte. Momentarily she toyed with the idea of sending Wally or Rosa as carrier, but they had both gone across the fields and would not be home much before dusk. So, taking her courage in both hands, she went round to the Halls’ house and knocked on the half-open backdoor.
Charlotte was in the scullery, spreading beef dripping on chunks of bread for tea, but when she saw Ada standing in the doorway, she put down the knife and wiped her hands in her apron.
“Well?” she demanded shortly, glaring at Ada.
The other woman took a hesitant step forward, holding the white bundle towards Charlotte.
“I hear you need sheets, for Amy. I looked these out for you …”
Charlotte straggled with an overwhelming desire to tell Ada to take her sheets and herself as far as possible from Greenslade Terrace, but Ada, shaking yet determined, pushed the sheets into Charlotte’s arms.
“Please, Lotty, I want you to have them. I know ther
e’s nothing I can do to make amends for what happened in my house, but God strike me dead if I don’t regret it with every bone in me body. I tell you, I wouldn’t have that lamb hurt for all the world, especially after all your kindness to me.”
Charlotte stiffened. “Kindness?”
“Yes. You’ve always been good to me, Lotty. There’s people around here that have looked down on me because o’ what I done all them years ago, when our Rosa was born. Because I married Walter carrying another man’s babe, they called me all kinds of dirty names—and they still do. It’s not the sort o’ thing you can live down hereabouts. But you’ve never been like that with me. I’ve never felt you were judging me, or talking about me behind my back, and I’ve been grateful That’s why I’m so upset to think that such a thing as this should happen now …”
Ada paused for breath, drawing a scrawny hand across her mouth, and Charlotte felt the anger instantly desert her. Who was she to blame Ada for Amy’s accident? She was just as guilty herself. If she had not been at the Rectory, Amy would not have been next door helping to bath the Clements’ baby.
“There’s none of us fit to cast the first stone,” she said sharply. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s gossip, specially when them as do the gossiping are no more than hypocrites. It’s my belief there’s a skeleton behind most doors if folk were honest enough to admit it—or unlucky enough to get found out. And as for this other business, well, I’ll tell you straight, if I’d laid hands on you when Dr Scott was changing our Amy’s dressing this morning, there’d have been murder done. But accidents will happen, I suppose.”
“That’s right,” Ada said eagerly. “They should have known better than to fool around with a bath of hot water there. One slip …”
And you should have known better than to put it there, Charlotte thought, but to her own surprise she did not say it. What was done was done. Rows and recriminations would not help Amy. The clean white sheets would.
“God bless you, Lotty,” Ada went on, folding her skinny arms around her ribs, trembling now with relief. “And if there’s anything I can do—anything at all—just let me know. My kids could do a bit of shopping for you, or I could sit with Amy while you went down to the Rectory, or anything like that. I know you need the money to keep your Jack at school.”
Charlotte drew in her breath sharply. “ I wouldn’t leave our Amy with anybody, not even her own brothers,” she said roundly. “ Don’t think you’re the only one who feels guilty over this, Ada. How do you think I feel? But thanks again for the sheets.”
Turning, she went back into the kitchen. Amy was dozing, and Jack was at the table, poring over his aeroplane cuttings, while little Harry sat on the floor catching any pieces that came his way. As she looked at them, her heart came into her mouth and the hopelessness of it all descended on her like a thick black cloud.
Amy was in this state because of her ambition for Jack. But now all that might come to nothing because she could no longer go out and earn the extra money. Perhaps she could manage to make ends meet if she economized even more than usual. But there were still Jack’s book to think of, and the expense of sending him on to another school if he passed the Oxford Junior. It wasn’t fair to expect the others to go without so that he could have more and more.
For the first time, Charlotte wondered if she had taken on more than she could cope with in falling in with Mr Davies’ plans. Perhaps he should leave school and get a job. It would be so much easier for all of them, and she was so tired, so terribly tired …
He looked up and saw her in the doorway.
“Who was that at the door, Mam?”
“Oh, just Mrs Clements with some sheets for Amy.”
He nodded and bent over his cuttings again, his face so serious that it tore at her heart. He’d been in a terrible state over what had happened, blaming himself because he’d been in charge, and he’d hardly left Amy’s side since. On top of that, how could she tell him now that he had to leave school and give up everything he’d worked for? She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
With a sigh, she put the sheets down on the table and turned away. Worrying would do no good. She’d manage somehow. She’d have to. And maybe if the good Lord was on her side, something would turn up.
TWO DAYS later her determined optimism was rewarded when Mr Archer came knocking on the door.
Jack was out—Charlotte had persuaded him to take Harry and Nipper across the fields—and she had snatched a moment to doze on the settle to make up for the previous night’s lack of sleep. The knocking awoke her, and she came to abruptly, wondering for the moment where she was. Then smoothing her hair and apron she hurried to the door.
“Rector, what are you doing here?” she said, surprised to see him.
“I should have come before,” he apologized “ I’ve been meaning to, but I haven’t quite been myself, and I didn’t think I could do the hill.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Charlotte said. It was true his breathing was ragged and his colour rather high, but apart from that he looked much as usual. “It’s nothing much, I hope?”
“I doubt it, though I must admit the pins and needles I keep getting in my hand can be quite irritating.” He rubbed at his left wrist, then smiled blandly. “That’s not why I’m here, though, to talk about myself. I’ve come to ask after Amy.”
“That’s kind of you, Rector,” Charlotte said “ She’s been in a bad way, but every day’s a step in the right direction. You’d better come in and see her.”
“Yes, of course.” The Rector, never completely relaxed with children, looked less than pleased at the prospect, and Charlotte’s eyes narrowed.
“You did come to see Amy? Or was it to find out about me working?”
“Both really,” the Rector confessed. “ Now you’re not to think I’m chasing you, Mrs Hall. Nothing could be further from my mind. In fact, I’m sure it will be some long time before you could even think of leaving your daughter, and that’s what’s been worrying me.”
“Worrying you?” she repeated.
“I know you’re somewhat dependent on what you earn from me,” he continued. “But while you are unable to come in and clean, I shall have to find someone else who can, and much as I would like to, I simply cannot afford to pay two wages.”
“I understand that,” she said stiffly. “We’ll manage.”
“Mrs Hall,” he said, almost severely. “ Won’t you listen to me for a moment? I’ve been turning the problem over in my mind, and I think I’ve come up with the answer—the Hardlake Trust. You may not have heard of it, but it is a trust fund set up in memory of one of my predecessors. The idea was that the proceeds should be used to help local children make a start in the world—buy a bag of tools for a boy wanting to become a carpenter, for instance, or a cap, apron and print dress for a girl going into service.”
“When Dolly went into service no one offered to buy her dress,” Charlotte said shortly.
The Rector smiled. “ It has rather fallen into disuse, I’m afraid,” he said gently. “And I can’t help feeling it’s rather outdated in its concept. It should be extended to help boys like Jack, in my opinion—if there’s any money left, and I’m sure there must be. If I speak to the trustees …”
“No!” Charlotte said. “No, thank you, Rector. I’ve never taken charity yet, and I’m not beginning now.”
The Rector looked at her sadly, still rubbing his left arm, which had begun to ache.
“You came to me for help once before, Mrs Hall,” he said at last. “We didn’t call it charity then.”
“And neither was it,” Charlotte told him. “I’ve worked hard for every penny I’ve brought home with me.”
“But now you’re in no position to work,” the Rector said in a slightly exasperated tone. “You must stay with Amy for as long as she needs you, but you mustn’t forget Jack. He’s worked as hard as you have this last year. Is it fair to him, or even good sense, to let all that be wasted because of p
ride? I don’t believe God would want that to happen.”
“Wouldn’t he? Then why did he let our Amy fall in the tub?” As he opened his mouth to answer, she waved her hand impatiently. “Oh, never mind. What does it matter? What does anything matter but health and strength?”
He looked at her gravely and in his face she caught a glimpse of sincerity beneath his somewhat pompous manner.
“Love matters, Mrs Hall. And a dream, such as you have for Jack. It’s important to both of you. You can’t give up now. You’d never forgive yourself, and neither would he.”
Charlotte stood staring with sleep-starved eyes at the sweep of blue sky above the wash-houses. Was there a God out there somewhere, a God as unlike the white-bearded father figure portrayed for her in her youth as reality is to dreams? Was there a scheme of things, a master plan, with one infinite deity manipulating it to fit his pattern? Perhaps there was. Certainly during the last few days she had often found herself praying that Amy would be spared. And more than once, when she had felt ready to drop herself, from somewhere had come the strength and the will to carry on.
“Don’t turn down my offer out of hand,” the Rector said, interrupting her thoughts. “Sleep on it, and sure you’ll see the sense in what I’m saying. The Hardlake Trust is there to be used, after all, and when the trustees know the circumstances …”
She moved abruptly, a sense of danger piercing the tiredness.
“You wouldn’t tell them …”
He smiled wryly. “Oh, Mrs Hall, do you really think I would?”
Hot colour flooded her cheeks as she realized he was even more anxious to keep the secret than she was. Of course he would not tell them that his own nephew had gone with the wife of a miner! God forbid!
“It will give me a great deal of satisfaction to feel I have helped the boy get on in the world” the Rector said smoothing over the awkward moment. Then, nodding towards the kitchen; “And I shall pray for Amy, you may be sure of that.”
