‘Darling, listen. Don’t dwell on it. You’re going to get well, really well. I’m going to see to it. And remember what we’ve got to look forward to. Remember?’
He turned his head and gazed at her. Then, his face stretching into a smile, he said, ‘Oh, yes, yes; I remember. Yes, Annette, I remember.’ And his voice changing, he said, ‘And you’ve only got a broken arm? I mean, that’s what you said, just bruises and a broken arm?’
‘Yes, that’s all, darling, bruises and a broken arm.’
‘That’s wonderful, wonderful.’ He turned his head on the pillow again and looked upwards and repeated, ‘Wonderful, wonderful. It had to be like that, hadn’t it?’ And she said tearfully, ‘Perhaps, darling, perhaps.’
She bent over him and laid her lips on his, and he put his arms around her and held her. Then she twisted her body so that her head rested on the pillow facing his and softly she said, ‘I love you.’ And he said, ‘I adore you. Always have, and always will, as long as I live…as long as I live.’
When the tears dropped from the corner of his eyes she said, ‘Oh, my dearest, you are going to live, you are going to get better. Listen…’ But her words were cut off by the door’s opening; and there stood his mother.
For a moment their heads remained stationary: then Annette, twisting herself back into a sitting position, stared back at the woman who was glaring at her now, and she said quietly, ‘Hello, Mother-in-law.’
Winifred made no reply, but went round to the other side of the bed and looked down on her son for a moment; then, bending over, she kissed him slowly on the lips before drawing a chair forward and sitting down.
‘How are you, my dear?’
‘All right, Mother…much better.’
‘I’ve brought you an apple tart that Maggie made; your favourite kind.’ She motioned to a parcel she had placed on the side table. ‘And I’ve told them out there’—she nodded towards the door—‘which ice cream you prefer.’
He closed his eyes for a moment, then said, ‘Mother, they know what I should eat. They are very kind.’
‘Yes, kind, but ignorant, half of them. It is hospital food. Although you are now in a private room, it’s still hospital food they dish out.’ She looked across the bed at Annette, saying, ‘Oh, you have the plaster off then?’
‘Yes.’ Annette flexed her arm. ‘It wasn’t such a bad break. I’ve been lucky.’
‘Yes, indeed you were lucky.’
There was silence between them, but when presently beads of perspiration gathered on Don’s brow and Annette went to wipe them away with her handkerchief, Winifred rose from the chair, saying, ‘That’s no good,’ and going to the washbasin in the corner of the room, she wetted a face flannel, then returned to the bed and began to sponge her son’s face, and all the while he kept his eyes closed. But when she started to wipe a hand, he jerked it away from her, saying, ‘Mother! Mother! I’ve been washed. Please, don’t; I’ve been washed.’
‘Don’t excite yourself. Lie still.’
Now looking across the bed at Annette, she asked, ‘How long are you staying?’ And when she was given the answer firmly and briefly, ‘All day,’ she said, ‘Oh.’ Then added, ‘There’s no need for two of us to be here. And I thought you were seeing about the house being put in order.’
‘That’s already been done. And this is my place.’
They were both startled as Don cried, ‘Nurse! Nurse!’ at the same time lifting his hand and ringing the bell.
When the door opened immediately and the nurse entered, he said, ‘Nurse, I am tired.’
The nurse now looked from the elderly woman to the younger and said, ‘Would you, please?’ And as they both made slowly for the door, Don’s voice checked them, saying, ‘Annette. Annette.’
And she, almost running back to the bed, bent over him. ‘Yes, dear? Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute or so. Don’t worry.’
In the corridor they faced each other. Before Annette had time to speak Winifred said, ‘Two are one too many in the room.’
‘Yes, I agree with you. And I have first place, I am his wife. Please remember that.’
‘How dare you!’
‘I dare, and shall go on daring.’ With this Annette walked away towards a door marked ‘Sister Bell’. And knocking and being bidden to enter, she went in and put her case to the sister in a few words, ending, ‘Who has first right to be with her husband, sister? The mother or the wife?’
‘The wife, of course. And don’t worry, Mrs Coulson, I understand the position and I’ll see Mr Richardson with regard to the visits his mother can make in the future. You’ve had a very trying time.’ She came round the desk and, putting her hand on Annette’s shoulder, she said, ‘There, there, now. You’ve been very brave. Don’t cry. Leave it to me, I’ll deal with her. Is she still in the corridor?’
‘She was.’
‘Then you stay there until I come back.’
A few seconds later Annette heard her mother-in-law’s voice finishing on the words she had become accustomed to over the past weeks: ‘He is my son. I will see into this.’
There followed a silence, but the sister did not return immediately. When she did, her smile seemed somewhat forced as she said, ‘The coast is clear now; you can go in to your husband.’
‘Thank you. Thank you very much, sister. By the way, sister’—she paused—‘could you give me any idea when I shall be able to take him home?’
‘Oh.’ The sister raised her eyebrows before she said, ‘I’m afraid that will be some time, some weeks. You see, he’s due for another operation later this week; and also, once you get him home, there’ll be continuous nursing for a time. You know that?’
‘Yes. Yes, I understand that.’
‘But one day at a time. Take it one day at a time. He’s progressing much more quickly than we had thought he would, and he always seems better when you’re with him.’
Annette could give no answer to this, but she went out and into Don’s room again. He was lying with his eyes closed and didn’t realise who it was until she took his hand. And then he said, ‘Oh, Annette. What…what am I going to do about her?’
‘Don’t worry, don’t worry; sister’s seeing to everything.’
‘She upsets me, dear. I can’t help it, she upsets me. I dread her coming in now. What am I going to do?’
‘You are going to lie quiet and have a little doze. And just think, in a few weeks I’ll have you home. I mean to have you home.’ She squeezed his hand between both hers. ‘That’s all I’m living for, to have you home as soon as possible.’
‘But how will you manage?’
‘Oh’—she laughed down on him—‘if that’s all that’s worrying you, put it out of your head this moment. How will I manage? I’ll have plenty of help. And I could manage you on my own. I’ll let you see what I can do.’
‘But…but for how long, dear?’
She stared at him. Yes, for how long. There were two meanings to that remark, but she didn’t know to which one he was alluding. So she evaded it by saying, ‘As long as ever it takes. Close your eyes, darling, and go to sleep. You don’t want them to throw me out too, do you?’
He made no answer but turned his head to the side and lay gazing at her. And with his hand held between her breasts she gazed back at him.
Two
‘Look, my dear.’ Daniel put his arm around Annette’s shoulder as they walked from the hospital to the car. ‘There’s nobody wants him to go straight to the cottage more than I do. Believe that, dear. But the only way the doctor’s going to let him out is if we can promise him that Don will have adequate nursing. Oh, I know you can get a night and day nurse, but one nurse will not be enough. He’s got to be lifted and turned. As you know, he’s incontinent and always will be. Then, with the damage to his liver and his chest, he hasn’t got the strength to pull himself up and down. The only reason Mr Richardson has agreed to letting him leave is because he is getting depressed, mainly because he can’t se
e enough of you. And remember: it isn’t that long since they took the plaster off your arm. You couldn’t possibly help a nurse with lifting, whereas at home there will always be Joe and me. And we couldn’t be on hand if you were in the cottage, you know. So this is what we have thought up. It was really Joe’s idea. You know the games room next to the billiard room? It’s large and airy, with those two long windows looking onto the garden. Then there is that other room that at one time used to store all the paraphernalia for the conservatory before it was turned into the sun room. As Joe said, the games room could be fixed up as a fine bedroom. He’s even picked a bed from upstairs, and also pointed out that with a couple of mattresses it will bring it up almost to the hospital height for a bed; you know, to make it easy for lifting the patient. Then the other room can be turned into a sitting room. And you know how handy he is with wires in rigging up things—he should have been an electrician—well, he said he can fix up an intercom from your room to his along the corridor and another to my room upstairs, so that we’ll always be on hand if needed. But only if needed.’
She stopped in her walk and with a touch of bitterness in her voice, she said, ‘And what of…Mother-in-law? She’ll never be out of his room. There won’t be any nurses or doctors or sisters to take my side. It’s her house.’
‘It’s my house.’
‘Don’t split hairs, Dad. I…I won’t be able to stand it. And there’s enough warring as it is. And you know how Don feels about her.’
‘I know. I know, dear. But I promise you I’ll lay down laws and that they will be obeyed. One threat will be that if she doesn’t keep her place then you can move him to the cottage. Come on, love, try it for a while. It’s for Don’s benefit. Just think of it that way.’
‘No. I can’t think of it that way, Dad, because most of his nervous trouble is through her. You’ve got to admit it.’
‘Oh, I admit it. Oh, yes, I do, lass. But at the present moment I can’t see any other way out. He’s either got to stay where he is or come back to his old home; as I said, at least for a time. Later on, we may be able to get him into a wheelchair. Now, think of that.’ He put his arm around her shoulder again and said, ‘Come on. Come on. You’ve been so brave all along and I want bucking up. I’m very low meself at the moment.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Dad.’
‘By the way, how are you finding things at home?’
‘Oh, as usual, Mother’s fussing, trying to find the answer to why it all happened. Father’s just the same, although he just looks on.’
He brought her round squarely to face him now, asking quietly, ‘Are they kind and understanding?’
And she answered as quietly, ‘Kind in a way, but not understanding. They never have been and they never will now.’ They stared at each other for a moment before he said brightly, ‘Oh, well, come on. I’ll land you at your door.’
‘I thought you were going into Newcastle on business?’
‘I am, but I can still land you at your door and turn round and come back.’
‘I can get a taxi.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. Come on.’…
Five minutes later he dropped her at the gates leading to her home, saying, ‘I’ll call in at the hospital about eight to pick you up. Will that be all right?’
‘Yes, Dad. And thanks.’
He waved to her, turned the car around and drove back into Newcastle and straight to 42 Bowick Road.
Maggie opened the front door for him as if she had been standing behind it waiting, which in a way, she had. Once it was closed they put their arms about each other and kissed long and hard. Then in a matter of fact way she said, ‘You look frozen. I’ve got some hot soup ready.’ And to this he answered, ‘We could have snow for Christmas, it’s cold enough.’
‘Here, give me your coat.’ She took his outdoor things, went into the passage and hung them on an expanding hat rack. When she returned to the room it was to be enfolded in his arms again. But now they just held each other closely for a moment until she said, ‘Sit yourself down,’ and pointed to a two-seater sofa set at an angle to the open fireplace, in which a coal fire was blazing. And he sat down and stretched out his legs, then looked at the fire, and when his body slumped he leant his head on the back of the couch and his escaping breath took on the form of a long sigh. Presently, without moving, he called, ‘What time did you leave?’
And her voice came from the kitchen, saying, ‘Near twelve.’
‘What!’ He brought his head up. ‘You were ready first thing before I went to the yard.’
‘Yes, I know, but there was a bit to do with Stephen. You know what he’s like on my day off, or at any time when he knows I’m going out. Well, he came down in his dressing gown. I was in my room when he entered the kitchen, but I heard him. You know how his voice cracks high when he’s going to have a tantrum. When I went in it was the usual: he wanted to come with me or go and see Don. They should never have promised to take him to see Don; he remembers these things. It was decided long ago you know, not to promise him things he couldn’t have or do. Well, who should give us a surprise visit at that time but herself, and at this he started one of his tantrums. He just wouldn’t stop, throwing himself about, you know, in this three-year-old fashion. And so she slapped him.’
‘She what!’
‘She slapped him. And she was right. Oh yes, on this occasion she was right. And it stopped him in his tracks. But he started to howl, so I took him upstairs, told him to have his bath then get dressed. And I went down again and saw her.’
Her voice stopped, and he pulled himself up to the end of the couch, calling, ‘Well, what happened next?’
She came into the room now carrying a tray on which were two plates of soup and, laying them on a small cloth-covered table set against the wall opposite the fire, she said, ‘I went to her room. She was looking out of the window, with her hair hanging down. I’d never seen her with her hair hanging down, you know. She turned and looked at me. She had been crying, Daniel. She had been crying.’
He rose to his feet and walked towards her, saying, ‘Well, she had been crying. She’s got a good right to cry; it would be because she was sorry for herself, knowing she can’t have all her own way and her son to herself.’
Maggie looked away from him, then continued, ‘When I asked if she would mind if I took him out for a little run, she said, “It’s your day off.” And I said, “I know that, but it doesn’t matter, I’ve nothing special to do.” And you know what she said?’ Maggie was looking at him now, and in a low voice she went on, ‘She said, “This used to be a happy house at one time, didn’t it, Maggie?”’
‘Happy house be damned! It was never a happy house; never from the beginning. She wanted it to show off, and it was a large enough place to push Stephen out of sight.’
‘I know. I know. But I think she was making comparisons with then and now. And when next she said, “Life isn’t fair, is it?” I answered her truthfully, “No, ma’am, it isn’t fair.” And when she said to me, “Are you happy?” what could I say? But I answered truthfully, “Only at odd times, ma’am, at very odd times.” Daniel, for the first time in my life I felt sorry for her. In a way she has a side, she can’t help feeling as she does about Don no more than I can help feeling as I do about you or you about me.’ She put her hands upon his shoulders now, saying, ‘Be civil to her, Daniel. You know, Lily tells me she hates to go in and serve the meals. You speak to Joe or she speaks to Joe; Joe speaks to you, or Joe speaks to her. She said that the other day the conversation was so stilted it was just like a puppet show. And it’s better when you don’t go in at all, because then Joe talks to her freely. It’s not so bad when Annette’s there, either, but better still when Mrs Jackson and Mr Rochester happen to pop down; he even makes her laugh at times.’
He took her hands from his shoulders and pressed them together, saying, ‘It’s odd that you should say you’re sorry for her.’
‘Well, I am, and feeling guilty an’ a
ll.’
‘Oh my God! Don’t do that, Maggie. Don’t be a hypocrite.’
She withdrew her hands from his, saying, ‘I’m no hypocrite and you know that, but I’m in the house with her all day. I’m a looker-on, as it were, and I generally see most of the game. I don’t like her, I never have, and not only because I’ve loved you; I don’t like her as a woman. She’s an upstart, she’s selfish. She’s all those things, but at the same time, because she’s got this love; no, not love, but passion or mania for her son, I can understand in a way because, dear God, how many times have I wished I had a son that I could go mad over? Your son.’
‘Oh, Maggie! Maggie.’ His arms went about her again and he rested her head on his shoulder. But it was there for only a moment before she sniffed and said, ‘This soup’ll be clay cold. Come on, sit down, you must be starved.’
‘Yes, I am Maggie, I am starved, but not for food.’
‘Well—’ she smiled at him, then patted him on the shoulder gently as she said, ‘we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? But first things first. Sit yourself down.’
At about six o’clock he was ready to leave and, standing at the unopened door, he said, ‘Maggie, not being the allocator of time, just like everybody else, I don’t know how long I’ve got, but I can say this to you: I’d gamble away the rest of my life for just a few weeks in this house with you.’ Then on a smile he added, ‘Well, perhaps not exactly in this one, because I couldn’t deal with Helen too. Give her my love, will you?’
‘I’ll do no such thing; I’ll give her your kind regards. Goodnight, my dear. Mind how you go; it’s freezing, the roads will be slippery.’…
He had hardly entered the house when Joe approached him from across the hall. It was as if he, like Maggie, had been waiting for him.
The Year of the Virgins Page 9
