When the Bough Breaks

by Connie Monk

  Helping Dennis to bed proved to be an awkward job. He had insisted she shouldn’t have their things moved downstairs, turning the seldom used drawing room into a bedroom. Instead he reached the stairs using his crutches and swinging his body so that he moved both legs at the same time. Then, gripping the newel post he seemed to throw himself so that he could sit on a stair. From there, painfully slowly, he moved upward, easing himself from stair to stair by taking his full weight on his arms. Kathie stepped forward.

  ‘Let me get round you. From behind you I can help take your weight,’ she said, her foot already on the bottom tread of the steep straight flight.

  ‘Stay out of the way,’ he told her with a glare. ‘I’ll soon get the hang of it. In that rehabilitation dump there were lifts.’ She knew this was all part of his battle for independence so, even though she longed to be part of his battle, she stood at the bottom of the stairs, her hands gripped into two fists as slowly he advanced to the upstairs landing. ‘OK,’ he said, a hint of triumph in his voice even though he was out of breath, ‘now you can come up with my crutches.’

  So he progressed until finally they were in the bedroom with the door closed.

  ‘Remember how we always used to leave it open in case Jess wanted us in the night?’ For Kathie there was comfort in talking about the child who had been the centre of their universe.

  ‘Don’t! Jess has gone, gone, you hear me, like everything else.’ He started to undress and she couldn’t fail to see how his hands trembled. ‘Thank God to be rid of this damned uniform.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ she said softly. ‘Den, the two of us, we can fight anything. We’ll make a go of it however hard the challenge.’

  ‘You can’t know, Kathie. Don’t help me, but just imagine what it’s like: I want to put my watch on the table by the bed but you’ve leant my crutches against the wall by the door where I can’t reach them. I can’t bloody move without them.’

  She took a step towards the crutches, then stopped.

  ‘What’s the saying about necessity being the father of invention? Den, you came all the way up the stairs without crutches so work yourself along the bed using your arms and . . .’ She watched while he did as she said and put his watch on the bedside table just as he had every night they had been together. ‘Well done! Another hurdle crossed.’

  But the fight had gone out of him. Sitting on the side of the bed he let her undress him.

  ‘Now I need a pee,’ he whined.

  ‘Then my darling you shall have one. Slip your arms into your dressing gown. That’s it. Now here are your crutches. Off you go. You only need one hand to steer your dinkle, and one crutch to prop you up. You’ll be fine.’ She knew how near he was to breaking point as she passed first one crutch and then the second to him.

  ‘Kathie,’ and at the sound of his laugh she looked at him, her eyes bright with hope. ‘Oh Kathie, what would I do without you? Is the kid asleep? Is her door shut?’ For his dressing gown was hanging open leaving him to the world displayed.

  ‘Sound asleep. Den – you won’t – but if you want me, just shout.’

  ‘I’ll be OK.’

  That was another hurdle crossed. He was quite a long time and when he got back she was almost ready for bed. The night was warm and she had pulled back the covers. As he sat on the edge, with one swift movement she lifted both his legs onto the bed.

  ‘You don’t want pyjamas any more than I want a nightie. We want just us.’ She laid down next to him, her body against his. Soon she would have to get out of bed to turn off the light and open the heavy curtains, soon but not yet. It was important they could see each other. There was nothing of the seductress in Kathie, but that they should make love had never mattered more than on that night. She must think just of Den, Den who had been the centre of her world for more than half her life. In that instant she was carried back to those moments by the stile. She mustn’t think of Bruce. Den was her past and Den was her future.

  ‘Kathie, I tell you, I can’t.’

  ‘Yes you can and you want to. Just look at you.’ She spoke softly, her voice affectionate and teasing.

  ‘Yes, look at me.’ Hardly moving his mouth, he seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth. ‘I want to sink deep, deep into you. But I know when I try to it’ll be gone, shrivelled to nothing. I know, Kathie. I’ve tried often enough but one touch and it’s useless. Doesn’t work any better than my damned legs.’

  She moved to lie half on him.

  ‘If that’s the way it has to be, then we can live without that sort of loving. Den we have so much, your life and mine are entwined into one. We’ll be fine, you and me.’ We can live without that sort of loving . . . but was that true? Uninvited the thought leapt into her head of the times he had mounted her as if he were serving her like an animal in the field, racing to his goal and leaving her with her body aching with longing for something so often just out of reach. Again she was in Bruce’s arms, that same longing thrusting everything from her but her yearning for his love. Tonight was the first night of the rest of their lives; she loved Den, dear Den who had shared her years, Den who had fathered Jess. Moving closer, she raised herself so that she was lying on top of him, his arms around her as he held her close. Above all else she was aware that his desire hadn’t retreated with her touch. She drew up her knees and moved to sit taller. His eyes were closed, his breathing quickened by fear. Please let it work for us – for both of us – but especially for Den. She guided him into her and started to move gently on him. With clenched fists he was beating a tattoo on the bed; St George couldn’t have fought the dragon with more force than Den did as he battled to hang on to the libido that he knew could vanish with no warning.

  She watched him, all thought of her own needs faded. Tonight belonged just to him. If he failed, then the failure would go with them into the future; if he succeeded that would be another hurdle overcome, a high and important hurdle.

  And finally it was a battle won.

  ‘You see?’ She laughed softly, moving her fingers tenderly through his tousled hair, ‘Your legs might not be in working order, but the rest of you is just the man you always were. Right?’

  ‘Seems so,’ he answered, still gasping for breath. ‘Kathie, I was so frightened. God, but it’s good to be home.’

  In most homes the wives of wounded or disabled warriors would give their time to them. At Westways that wasn’t possible. Sarah and Sally had learnt a lot in the year they’d been there, but Kathie contributed a full day’s labour as well as organizing the work. For years she had helped; at Den’s bidding she had planted seeds, thinned out the seedlings so that when the strong young plants were ready she could plant them out. Doing the work under someone else’s watchful eye was a very different thing from thinking ahead, making sure nothing fell behind schedule. In the last year she’d had to learn as she went along, and she had every right to be proud of what she had achieved. On her one and only trip to see Dennis in hospital, Claudia – who in truth knew far less than either of the girls – had taken control and Bruce had been a willing delivery boy plus any other role that came his way. Now that Dennis was home, would he still wander down from the Hall in his workmen’s overalls and wellington boots? Kathie knew the answer even before she asked herself the question.

  ‘It’s a glorious morning,’ she said as, after a slow and difficult descent, Den swung himself into the warm room. Normally she would have been outside an hour or more ago, but having set the girls to work she waited until she heard he was on his way down before she started to cook his breakfast.

  ‘I don’t need breakfast. You’ve got work to do. If you can just put the wheelchair outside the door, I can get myself out there when I’m ready. You can’t leave those girls on their own. God knows what’ll happen to the place.’

  ‘The arrogance of the man,’ she teased, trying not to let him guess the effort it took, ‘they may be the fairer sex but they aren’t children. They’re seventeen years old and they’ve wor
ked here for a year. When Stan and Bert were that age the extension was being built and I seem to remember you made yourself labourer’s assistant.’

  ‘Has the paper come?’ he changed the subject.

  ‘I expect it’s in the letterbox. It’s always late during the school holidays,’ Kathie answered at just the same moment as Beth ran in from the garden.

  ‘I’ll get it, Aunt Kathie,’ she said not slowing her pace as she ran through the room, ‘I did the chickens’ water.’

  ‘Thanks, love.’

  Dennis frowned. The easy and affectionate relationship between Kathie and her waif seemed to make a stranger of him – of him and of Jess too, as if life had gone on without either of them. Slumped at the table he wished it could do just that. What was there to live for? Day after day, year after year, and what was he? Just an encumbrance on Kathie’s life.

  Running back into the room Beth put the paper on the table in front of him.

  ‘Here it is,’ she forced herself to speak and to smile, too, without him being able to guess what an effort it was. When he’d been here before, everything had been so dreadful. Often she had dreams about the accident, the scream of the breaks and then a sort of thud (which in her dreams was louder than it had been in reality) as Jess had been hit, Jess and Fudge. She would wake up in the night and find she was crying; sometimes Kathie heard her and came in, sometimes she just lay there on her own reaching to Jess’s side of the bed and trying to imagine she was there. Perhaps he thought about it and was sad too; that’s what she told herself as she put the paper on the table in front of him.

  Without looking at it, he pushed it away. Watching the scene, Kathie felt her anger rise.

  ‘Beth and I have had our breakfast. I must go and see how the girls are getting on; you can help me, Beth. OK? Just leave your dirty things on the table, Den, I’ll come back later and see to them.’

  ‘Or I can,’ Beth suggested, feeling that if he saw her as part of the team he might not mind about her so much.

  ‘One of us will. You’re sure you’re all right to get outside? I’ve left the chair just near the door.’

  ‘Fine, thanks.’ He managed to keep his voice steady, in fact he sounded sufficiently bright that Kathie felt no guilt in leaving him. Already he had found there were things he could manage for himself; each day would get better. Her optimism would have taken a plunge if she could have looked back at the scene in the warm room where he sat with his head in his hands, his untouched breakfast before him.

  ‘The weeds are getting bad at the far end, we’ll have a go at them shall we?’ Kathie said as she and Beth reached the tool shed where she took a hoe for herself and passed to Beth one which, while she’d been visiting Den in hospital, Bruce had fitted with a handle just the right length for her. Soon they were working together, the little girl concentrating on cutting through the new growth of weeds, then turning the hoe just as Kathie did to smooth the freshly turned soil. Before long Oliver would be here and they would go to their den on the common. What a sad and cross man Mr Hawthorne was. Of course it must be dreadful not to be able to work with the others, but it wasn’t Aunt Kathie’s fault; he might feel better if he made himself smile at her more.

  ‘Beth, we’re here.’ As if by magic Oliver came running towards them between the rows of vegetables. ‘This morning Mum didn’t send me on and then come on her bike. No, we walked together. Good morning Mrs H. Is it all right for Beth to come to the common, or has she got to work? I’ll do jobs if you like. Mum’s saying hello to Mr H. She said I had to tell you she’ll come and see you in a minute.’

  ‘My word, Ollie, I’m spoilt for choice with so many workers. Thanks for offering, love. By this afternoon when we’re getting the order together for the shop I may be glad of a hand, but you two run off and enjoy yourselves.’

  They didn’t need twice telling. Like cage birds finding the door left open, they were off. Kathie laid down her hoe and went to change the position of the sprinkler. There had been no rain and she had to make sure not a square foot of the field missed out. This was a job she found more difficult than most. The water hydrant was deep in the ground about halfway down the field and the water had to be turned on and off with a long metal pole. First she turned it off, then she moved the heavy four inch diameter hose further towards the end of Westways’ land, then back to the hydrant to turn the water on again. It was as she started back to where she’d been hoeing that she heard the sound of Claudia’s laugh. Tempted by the sound she walked to where she had a glimpse of the patch of grass. What a dear Claudia was! There she sat crossed legged on the ground in front of Den’s chair, clearly telling him some story that was lifting his spirits.

  It was Den who noticed her and called, ‘Here a minute, Kathie.’ It looked such a happy scene, she was glad to join them.

  ‘I’ve been telling Dennis about my weedy patch and trying to persuade him to use his brainbox to advise me what I ought to do with it,’ Claudia said as Kathie got within earshot.

  ‘And what have you come up with, Den?’

  ‘Nothing. How could I without even seeing the plot and knowing.’

  Looking as excited as a child promised a treat, Claudia took up the tale.

  ‘That’s easily remedied. I can take him and, once we’re there, the brick paths are wide and very wheelchair friendly, he can potter around by himself. You haven’t got a spare hoe we can take along have you, Kathie? I tell him I’m open for all the help I can get and if he can loosen the roots, I can grapple with removing the weeds.’

  ‘Do you want anything other than a hoe, Den?’ Kathie asked, purposely letting him see that he was in charge of the expedition.

  ‘Maybe a rake might be useful. There are no tools there. What about that length of tarpaulin we’ve had for years and never use. With no wheelbarrow, Claudia can rake the weeds and dead growth into a pile on the canvas, then she can haul it to wherever looks the best spot for a bonfire.’

  ‘There, you see!’ Claudia proclaimed triumphantly. ‘Didn’t I tell you it makes no difference whether it’s peas or petunias, gardening is gardening.’

  Dennis’s laugh was spontaneous and, hearing him, Kathie realized it was the first time she’d heard that sound since they’d lost Jess.

  ‘I’ll get the things you’ll need,’ she told them, as excited at the thought of the project as they were themselves. ‘Can you manage them on your knee, Den? They’re awkward and the tarpaulin is heavy.’

  ‘Rubbish. If you’ll get them from the shed, I’m sure I can nurse them on my lap.’

  With hope in her heart she held the garden gate open for Claudia to push the chair into the lane. This was only day one and already he was starting to get into his stride. Still watching them as Claudia negotiated most of the rock-hard ruts in the unmade track, did she imagine it or did she actually hear Den laugh? What she certainly didn’t imagine was just as they were about to be lost to view around a curve in the lane they met Bruce. Briefly they stopped to speak. The previous day, knowing Den was expected to arrive, Bruce hadn’t been to Westways, so this was the first time she’d seen him since those stolen moments the evening before last. She had said they must forget, but how could she? If she lived to be a hundred, she wanted the memory never to fade.

  ‘You must feel very proud, Kathie,’ he greeted her as she held the gate open for him, his tone telling her that he meant to keep his word and ‘forget’ their brief moment of forbidden truth. ‘I don’t think I could accept with his sort of courage.’

  ‘I think you could if you had Claudia to take you out to play,’ Kathie laughed, acting her role. Neither of them were prepared to admit to hearing unnatural brightness in their voices.

  ‘As you see, I’m not dressed for labouring. I just called in to tell you that I’m going away for a few days. I have an elderly uncle in Bath. Poor old boy, he lives alone with just a daily. Ethel is almost as old as he is himself and has looked after him for as long as I can remember. I usually have a few days with
him during the holidays. He telephoned me yesterday and I could tell from his manner that he could do with company. You’d get on well with him, Kathie. He’s over ninety but his mind is rapier sharp.’

  ‘You’ll do him a power of good, and I expect enjoy your stay every bit as much as he will.’ What a game of lies this was.

  ‘Indeed, yes. As I say, he is remarkably good company. So Dennis is going to give Claudia guidance with that overgrown patch she calls garden.’

  Like an amateurishly dull game of tennis with the ball being lightly sent backwards and forwards over the net, no hard hitting, no clever shots, so the conversation continued. Only when he turned towards the gate to leave her did her control snap.

  ‘Bruce!’

  Immediately, he turned towards her. Retracing his steps, knowing they were being wrong and foolish, yet neither with willpower enough to put a brake on where they were heading. The small, enclosed porch by the front door was only feet away and instinct turned them into it. Cut off from the world, even though there were no prying eyes to see them, for one brief moment they clung to each other.

  ‘No!’ She was the first to draw away. ‘We promised.’

  He took her hand, a hand hardened by work on the land, and carried it to his face.