No Wings to Fly

by Jess Foley

  ‘May I see him?’ Lily said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ The woman consulted a watch attached by a fine strap to her bosom and added, ‘Though visiting time’s nearly over for the afternoon. It finishes at four. You won’t have very long with him, I’m afraid. Only a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh, but – I’ve come such a long way,’ Lily said. ‘Can’t I stay with him a while?’

  ‘I’m sorry, miss.’ The woman’s tone was a little disapproving. ‘We can’t change the rules for everybody who comes in. We’d never get anywhere. You can come back tomorrow, of course. Visiting in the morning starts at half-past ten. Then in the afternoon again at three. Come with me. I’ll get one of the nurses to take you to him.’

  Lily wanted to ask what was the matter with Tom, but the Sister was stepping past her into the corridor. Lily followed her to a door opposite, which the nurse opened. ‘Simpkin,’ said the Sister, to a nurse who was rolling bandages, ‘will you take this young lady to patient Thomas Clair, please.’ She turned back to Lily. ‘The nurse will take you, but as I said, you won’t have long with him.’

  As the Sister turned and went back across the corridor into her own office, the nurse put down the bandages and got to her feet. ‘Come with me, please,’ she said to Lily. ‘I’ll take you to him.’

  Lily followed her along the corridor. ‘You’ll be his first visitor,’ the nurse said to Lily who walked just half a pace behind her right shoulder. ‘Not that I think it’s bothered him. I don’t think he’s felt much like seeing people. He’s in very low spirits, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I had no idea he was sick,’ Lily said. ‘Not till I got the letter this morning. I mean – well, he’s never ill. He might not look that hardy, but he’s strong enough. I mean – he came through scarlet fever all right when he was small, and diphtheria too.’

  They had come to a stop outside a small ante-room. The nurse gestured towards the door. ‘The ward’s through here.’

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Lily said. ‘Is it pneumonia or something? No, that can’t be – not at this time of year. What is it? I’ve been reading that the smallpox is all over the country, but it surely can’t be that.’

  The nurse, one hand on the door handle, said, ‘Oh, I thought you knew,’ then pushed open the door.

  ‘Knew what?’ Lily said. ‘I only know he’s here.’

  The nurse looked a little surprised. ‘Well – he’s not sick in the sense of having a disease or something like that. Though it’s made him poorly enough – his accident.’

  ‘His accident?’

  ‘Yes. He was unconscious for days.’

  ‘Unconscious for days?’ Lily frowned. ‘They tell me he’s been here almost a fortnight. Why – why didn’t anyone let me know before?’

  ‘I told you, miss,’ the nurse said, ‘he was senseless. Completely. He didn’t come round for days. Matron wouldn’t have had any way of knowing who to send for. Still – he’s getting better now.’

  With her words, the nurse stepped forward. Lily, following, found that they were standing in the entrance to the men’s ward. It was a bleak, depressing-looking place, and she was horrified at the thought that Tom was a part of it. The roughly plastered walls were whitewashed, and the tall windows, with their half-lowered blinds, let only the coldest light into the cheerless room. Not only that, but some of the windows had bars.

  ‘The windows,’ Lily said. ‘They’ve got bars.’

  ‘Yes,’ the nurse replied, ‘this ward used to be part of the asylum.’

  Before Lily’s gaze two rows of beds stretched out the length of the long, high-ceilinged room. About half were occupied, all by male patients, and of varying ages, from small boys to very old men. At some of the bedsides sat visitors – single persons or couples, never more than two. Over the scene hung a strange mixture of smells – scents of age mixed with urine, bad flesh and sickness, and all overlaid with the strong smell of disinfectant.

  Lily was about to ask what was the nature of her brother’s accident, but the nurse was pointing down the row of beds, saying, ‘There he is, your brother. Down there on the left.’ As she spoke she stepped forward, and Lily, following, caught sight of Tom a little way down, nearer the far end. He was lying with his head propped up on the pillows, his face turned away. Lily and the nurse came at last to the bed, and the nurse halted at its foot.

  ‘You’ve got a visitor, young man,’ the nurse said brightly. Tom turned his head and looked at her, and then a moment later saw Lily standing at her side. At once, as their glances met, his eyes welled up with tears, and Lily moved, lightning-quick, to his bedside. As she did so, the nurse said: ‘There – you’ve got a visitor, Tom. Isn’t that lovely?’ and then turned and started away.

  ‘Oh, Tom,’ Lily said, forcing back a sob that rose in her throat, ‘what have you been up to this time?’ She attempted to smile, but the effort failed and she could only press her lips together while she tried to hold back her tears. The bedclothes were pulled up to his armpits, his right arm exposed as it lay on top of the rough brown blanket. There was a huge bruise on the left side of his forehead, and a wide, dark scab where the flesh was healing. He was wearing a coarse cotton nightshirt in a pattern of light and dark grey stripes. It was darned at the shoulder, and appeared to have been laundered almost to extinction. She had noticed the same garb on other patients in the room. She reached down and took his hand between her own. He lay looking up at her, saying nothing, while tears ran down his cheeks.

  She stood unmoving for a moment, then released his hand, looked around her and pulled over a dilapidated old chair that stood nearby. Bringing it to the side of the bed, she sat down. Fiercely she clasped his hand again, and leant closer to him, looking down into his face. ‘Tom, my dear. Oh, Tommo, how glad I am to see you.’

  He gave a little nod, and moved his fingers in the grasp of her own.

  ‘I came as soon as I could,’ she said. ‘Though the nurse tells me I won’t be able to stay long. But I can come back, of course.’ After a pause she added, ‘I should have brought you something – some fruit, maybe, or a little chocolate – but I was in such a hurry to get here. I only just heard today – a letter from somebody here in the infirmary.’

  He said nothing to this, but after a moment asked, frowning, ‘What day is it, Lil? I loses track.’

  ‘Monday.’

  His frown deepened. ‘Monday?’

  ‘Monday – the eleventh.’

  His frown deepened further as he pondered. ‘Monday. The eleventh. That rings a bell. It’ll come to me.’

  A large bluebottle came humming close, buzzing over the bed. Lily released Tom’s hand and flapped at the fly ineffectually. From some distance away in the ward came a sudden screeching wail of distress, piercing and loud, and Lily, her blood chilled, turned and saw an old man sitting up in his bed, his mouth gaping, his arms flailing, while a nurse moved quickly to his side.

  ‘Take no notice,’ Tom said, ‘it ’appens all the time.’ He paused then added dully, ‘These windows’ve got bars.’

  ‘I know. The nurse told me it used to be part of the asylum.’

  ‘Yeh, that’s what they said.’

  The old man who had been screaming began to quieten down. Lily remained silent for a few moments then said, ‘The nurse told me you’d had an accident.’

  Tom nodded, his lips compressed into a thin line, then on a little gasp he said in a passionate little whisper, eyes glistening, ‘Yeh. Yeh, I did.’

  She remained silent, waiting, but he said no more, and she held his hand and looked into his eyes. Against the white of the pillow, his thick dark hair looked black. The skin of his face was richly tanned by the sun. From all around them came the murmur of voices as patients talked with their visitors. The nurses in their starched uniforms came and went. In the next bed an old man lying asleep began to snore, his toothless, drooling mouth gaping to the ceiling. Movement beyond the window to Lily’s left briefly drew her eyes, and she saw a couple of me
n in the yard busy with brooms and shovels. The sight reminded her that the infirmary was adjoined to the workhouse. She turned her glance back to Tom.

  He was frowning again, but then his frown cleared. ‘Yeh, that’s it,’ he said. ‘Today, Monday, the eleventh. Today you starts in your new position, right? In Seston, right?’

  ‘Ah –’ She nodded. ‘Fancy you remembering that.’

  ‘Well, of course I remembered. You told me in your letter. It’s a big day for you.’

  ‘Yes . . . well . . .’

  His frown returned. ‘So what you doin’ here? You should be at Seston. Did they give you the time off?’

  ‘Well, no, but – as I said – I just heard today – about your being here. I came straightaway.’

  ‘But shouldn’t you be at Seston?’

  She shrugged, making light of it. ‘Don’t you worry about that. I’ll see Mr Corelman – my employer – and he’ll understand. For heaven’s sake, Tommo, I had to come and see you.’

  ‘Yeh – but it’s not right to take you away from your new job.’

  She shook her head. ‘I told you, don’t you worry about that. Everything’ll be fine. It’s you we’ve got to think about.’ She paused. ‘How are you feeling, Tom? Are you in any pain?’

  He blinked once or twice. ‘It’s not so bad. It’s nothing to what it was.’

  ‘I must say, that’s a terrible bruise – that wound on your forehead.’

  ‘Oh, that – that don’t matter.’

  ‘The nurse said you were senseless when you were brought in.’

  ‘Ah, so they tell me. Not that I remember anything about it.’

  He fell silent, and Lily waited. Then all at once came the light ringing tones of a bell. She turned at the sound and saw at the end of the ward a uniformed nurse standing, swinging the bell in her hand. At the signal the patients and their visitors stirred, aware of the coming partings.

  ‘Oh, the visiting time’s gone,’ Lily said with a groan. ‘I’ve hardly been here five minutes.’ She leaned closer to him. ‘Oh, Tom, I’ve got to leave.’

  As if he had not heard her words, he muttered in a small, broken voice, ‘I fell under the cart, Lil.’

  ‘What? What did you say?’

  ‘Yeh, I tripped and fell – and I went under the cart’s wheels. So they told me.’

  She drew in her breath. ‘Oh. Oh, my God. Oh, Tom.’

  ‘Ah.’ He gave a little nod. ‘It was well loaded up, too. Fair loaded up to the top. Heavy. It was that little dog – Kipper – the ratcatcher – little varmint – he got between my feet and I went down. I don’t remember nothing else.’

  ‘Oh, Tom – my dear –’ Lily struggled for words. She bent closer over the bed, clutching his hand. All along the ward the other visitors were getting to their feet, putting back their chairs.

  ‘They brought me ’ere,’ Tom said. ‘In the small wagon. And the doctor did what he could for me. I’m sure they were very kind. They say I was out cold for days on end. Then I come to – and found this.’ He shifted slightly, and then brought from beneath the covers his left arm, what was left of it. Lily looked at the bandaged stump just below his elbow, and at the sight her blood rushed to her brain and she felt for a second that she might faint away. She sucked in her breath in a great gasp and clapped her hands to her mouth, her eyes staring out of their sockets.

  ‘Oh, my God! Oh, God!’ The words were blurted out between her fingers. ‘Tom! Oh, my dear Tom!’ Crying out, she fell forward, her arms reaching out to hold him. She lay there, sobbing, one arm across his body, while his right arm came up and wrapped around her shoulders.

  She heard, dimly, as from far off, the sound of the bell ringing again. She raised herself, her tears wet on her cheeks. The last of the other visitors were leaving. In the next bed the old man lay snoring, oblivious. She sat there for long seconds, unable to speak, then, brokenly, she said, ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Yeh, you must.’

  ‘But I’ll come back tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be here in good time.’ She could barely force the words out. One part of her wanted to draw her eyes to the dreadful sight of his disfigured arm, but another part resisted the horror. ‘I’ll be here – I will.’

  He nodded and gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘Ah.’

  ‘And – and you’re not to worry – about anything . . .’ She was babbling now, and even as she spoke the words she knew how meaningless they were in the face of his tragedy.

  His sad smile flickered again. ‘It’s done now, Lil. It’s finished.’

  ‘What? What d’you mean? Oh, Tom – don’t say such things.’

  ‘Nah!’ Now he looked scornful at his own words. ‘Don’t take no notice o’ me. I’ll be all right. You wait and see. They say I’ll be well enough to leave very soon.’

  ‘Oh – that’s good news.’

  ‘Ah, right, it is.’

  Footsteps sounded nearby, and Lily turned and saw a middle-aged nurse approaching. ‘I’m sorry, miss,’ the nurse said, coming to a halt a few feet away, ‘but visiting time’s over. I’m afraid you’ll have to go.’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ Lily nodded, then, turning quickly back to Tom, said, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow. Tell me what I should bring for you. What do you need?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t need nothin’. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘No, really. Tell me.’ She waited. ‘Do you need money? I know in the hospital it’s nice to be able to buy the odd little thing. Cheers you up.’

  He did not reply. She looked at his set face for a second, then picked up her bag. Dipping into it she took out her purse, opened it and tipped a few coins into her palm. ‘Here . . .’ She took his hand in hers and put the coins into it, closing his fingers over them. ‘It’s not much, but it’ll help. If they come round selling sweeties or some other little treats it’ll be a help.’

  Behind her the nurse took a step forward. ‘I’m sorry, miss, but you’ll really have to go now. Sorry . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily nodded, then turning back to Tom again, said, ‘I’ve got to go, Tommo, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I promise I will, without fail.’

  He nodded. ‘Ah.’

  Choking back her tears, she leant down and kissed his sunburnt cheek. ‘I love you, Tommo,’ she said.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Weeping, and with her thoughts and emotions in turmoil, Lily made her way to the Plough and Stars inn to pick up the coach for Wilton Ferres. On reaching it found three other people waiting. Dipping into her bag, she took out her little watch and looked at the time. Just after half-past four. She had been due to meet Mr Corelman thirty minutes ago.

  There was no direct route to Seston, and it was almost six-thirty by the time she got there, and a further twenty minutes before she reached the house. Her ring on the doorbell was answered by the same maid whom she had met on her previous visit. The girl recognised her at once, and said fretfully, ‘Oh, yes, miss. Come in, miss. The master was expecting you much sooner.’

  Entering the house, Lily was shown into the large, cluttered drawing room that she had visited before. In the doorway the maid said, ‘The master ’aven’t finished his dinner yet, miss, and he won’t take kindly to having it disturbed, but I’ll go and tell him you’re here.’ Lily was about to say, Oh, please, leave it until he’s finished eating, but the maid was gone.

  After standing there for a moment Lily sat down on the sofa, at the other end of which Mrs Corelman’s knitting was much in evidence. In the glow of the gaslight Lily could see a film of dust on the small table at her elbow, while on the rucked carpet near her feet lay a half-chewed bone. On the skirt of her dark blue dress she saw that there was now a quantity of dog’s hair, and she brushed at it ineffectually for a few moments and then gave up with acceptance.

  The clock on the heavily draped mantelpiece ticked away into the quiet, and then, after some ten or twelve minutes, the door opened and Mr Corelman stood there, one hand holding a dinner na
pkin, the other on the handle. At once Lily got to her feet.

  ‘Well! Miss Clair,’ he said, ’and what a pleasant surprise this is.’ His tone was heavy with sarcasm. He stepped forward into the room, glanced at the clock and said, ‘It’s almost seven. We were expecting you at four o’clock. At least, that was my understanding. I came back from the office especially for your arrival.’

  ‘I’m dreadfully sorry, sir,’ Lily said. ‘I started with the best intentions, but – but something came up. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Something came up?’ His tone now was somewhat withering. ‘Undoubtedly, then, that something was more important than your duties here.’

  ‘Well, sir – I received a message that my brother had been taken to the infirmary. I had to go to him.’

  ‘Oh, you had to, had you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He nodded. ‘Interesting. Did you not perhaps consider that your first duties were to your position here?’

  ‘I – I had to go to him, sir. He has no one else.’

  ‘He has no one else, eh?’ Another little nod. ‘Well, I must be frank with you, miss, and make it clear that I do not expect any governess in my employ to go running off to members of her family at the first sign of a headache. Her paramount duties are here – to her pupils – my children. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘That’s something that’s understood, then. I might also tell you that the choice between you and the other applicant was not the easiest one to make. She – a certain Miss Parry from Marlborough – seemed ideal in many ways, and it was very little indeed that swung my decision in your favour. I think you should be aware of that.’

  He stood looking at Lily with eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. After a moment she gave a brief nod and said, ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Indeed. And I might inform you also that Wiltshire has no shortage of young women looking for the post of governess. As I told you, governesses are not thin on the ground, and a great many of those available are, I daresay, extremely well qualified.’