Into The Unknown

by Lorna Peel

  After two of the most mentally and physically darkest months of his life, Charlie was eagerly looking forward to the bandage over his lost eye being removed. It was the only thing he’d been able to look forward to during all that time and the wait had tested his patience to breaking point.

  He’d had more words with Billy when his friend broke his promise straight away and told Kate, who told Clive and Toby and God knows who else about the accident. Billy had crawled back a week later and, for the first time in his life, grovelled and apologised. So he’d relented and allowed Billy to visit him again. But Billy and Billy only, he’d insisted. That was final.

  Should he have been more firm with Billy, he had to ask himself in one of his meetings with his psychiatrist Dr French. No, he concluded. Billy was the only best friend he had left. Billy also had a strong stomach, which he’d need the next time he visited.

  After looking forward to it for so long, Charlie found himself scared stiff. This was where he would have to get used to life with only one eye. Having cried out for light for weeks, when the bandage over his good eye had come off, he’d found to his frustration that light dazzled him and made the eye hurt like hell. After a couple of days of wearing sunglasses indoors and feeling like a complete fool, the pain eased and the eye was as good as new, but the other eye had gone forever and nothing was going to bring it back.

  It took Charlie well over an hour after Dr Lennox had removed the bandage and told him how well the area was healing for him to pluck up enough courage to ask for a mirror. It was time to finally see what he called his non-eye.

  The nurse brought a hand mirror to him and he thanked her, then politely asked her to leave. He needed to do this on his own. He shook violently as he raised the mirror and he was forced to hold it steady with both hands. He stared at his face, too horrified even to retch. He had been right to call it his non-eye. There was just nothing there. He lowered the mirror to his lap and cried.

  “It won’t be like that for long.” He jumped, hearing the nurse’s voice and turned to her as she approached his bed. He hadn’t heard her come back into the room. Maybe she hadn’t left the room at all. “It has healed so well, Dr Lennox has decided that you will be having the eyeball inserted in a couple of days.”

  “And that will make everything all right again, will it?” he asked bitterly.

  “No, but you will have an eye there again, even if it isn’t real. Then I will teach you how to look after the prosthetic eye. When you see yourself in a week’s time, you won’t cry, I promise.”

  Eight days later, he took the mirror from her and laid it on his lap. He was terrified. What if it was hideous? If it was hideous, that was it, because nothing more could be done.

  “You must think I’m the vainest patient you’ve ever had to deal with,” he said, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

  “No, not at all. None of us wants to look uncomfortably different. And you don’t. Look.” She smiled encouragement at him and nodded to the mirror.

  Holding the mirror with both hands again, he raised it to his face and stared. The iris of the prosthetic eye was dark brown like his real eye, but not exactly the same colour. His heart sank. Someone staring into his eyes would notice. Someone like Kate.

  “Well?” the nurse asked.

  “It’s very good,” he lied.

  The nurse smiled. “I’m so glad. I’ll bring the wireless to you and you can listen to some music before your appointment with Dr French.”

  He watched her go, then looked at his reflection again. Kate had loved his dark eyes and she could only be revolted by the way they were now. Lowering the mirror to his lap, he forced her face from his mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kate walked to the CO’s office, wondering who her visitor was. It was too much to hope it could be Charlie. She was shown into the office and stared. It was Billy and he looked terrible.

  “Kate.” He gave her a weak smile. “How are you?”

  “What’s wrong, Billy?”

  “Sit down, Kate.”

  She looked around for a chair and sat. “It’s Charlie, isn’t it?” she whispered and Billy nodded.

  “He’s had an accident, Kate, coming back from a sweep over France. He’d just shot down his sixth 109 and I caught him daydreaming. I told him to get out of the way, but he was hit by fire from one of the 109s. His Hurricane had bits of tail and wing missing, it was spewing smoke, but somehow he made it back over the Channel. Thank God he was such a good pilot.”

  “He crashed?”

  “Yes. Somewhere in Kent, into a wood. It took hours for the fire brigade to cut him out. He was brought to the local hospital first, but then he was transferred to London because of his injuries.”

  “His injuries?” she prompted.

  “One of his legs is badly broken. The doctors had to piece it back together again. It’s now held together with metal pins and things. But…” To her horror, Billy fought back tears. “His eyes. His cockpit hood and goggles were ripped off and smashed up. The glass went into his eyes. His left will be all right, they got all the glass out, but the right… Christ, Kate, they had to take it out.”

  Kate stared at him, the words taking a moment or two to sink in. His leg and his beautiful eyes…

  “He’ll be given a false eye, Kate,” Billy continued. “And he will be able to walk again, but he might have a slight limp.”

  “But he’ll never fly again?”

  “No.” Billy bit his lip. “He’s been recommended for a DFC.”

  That won’t begin to compensate, she thought, getting unsteadily to her feet. “I must go to him.”

  “No.” Billy grabbed her arms and sat her down. “Kate, he doesn’t want to see you. The doctor told me that in the beginning, he wouldn’t let on that there was anyone.”

  “But why?” she whimpered.

  “He told me you’d seen enough already.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. What about Clive and Toby? Will he see them?”

  “No.” Billy sighed. “Kate, I’ve broken a promise to come here and tell you.”

  She burst into tears. After all they had been through, he rejects her now. “Did you tell the doctor about his strange behaviour?”

  Billy nodded. “Charlie’s in the right place; they’ll be able to help him there.”

  “But I want to see him.”

  “Kate, if he doesn’t want to see you, they won’t let you in. Look, I’m going to see him as often as I can. I’ll try and persuade him. I’ll write, I promise.”

  “All right.” She had no choice. “Thanks for telling me, Billy.”

  Her letter to Clive and Toby was one of the worst letters she had ever had to write, second only to the letter to her mother telling her about Dunstan Street. She received a reply a week later, from Clive.

  I’m sorry, Kate, for seeming not to believe you, but I called the hospital and explained who I was. I asked the doctor if it was possible for the telephone to be brought to Charlie and if I could speak to him. It was, but Charlie didn’t want to speak to me. I was going to go to the hospital and bang on his door if need be but the idiot won’t have any visitors and the doctor told me that he has to respect Charlie’s wishes. I’m at my wits’ end.

  On a brighter note, his left eye bandage is coming off next week. He’s listening to the wireless and is talking to the other patients. All being well when Charlie is discharged from hospital, he’ll be sent to a convalescent home. He’ll have further consultations with a psychiatrist there. The doctor stresses that he isn’t mad, that it is some kind of mental breakdown, and with the proper help and support he should make a complete recovery.

  Convalescent home… psychiatrist… breakdown… complete recovery… Kate put the letter down and wept.

  A letter from Billy a few weeks later gave her a little hope.

  After Clive’s telephone call to the hospital, it didn’t take Charlie long to put two and two together. He refused to allow me to visit for well over a w
eek, but I turned up one day and thankfully he didn’t turn me away. It’s eight weeks now since the accident and both eye bandages are off. His left eye is perfect, thank God. His right, well, I’d be lying if I said that it was a pretty sight. After showing me, he wore a patch over it. He’s very self-conscious and says that when he finally starts walking again, he’s going to look and feel like _______ Long John Silver – you fill in the gap.

  He is having the eyeball inserted in a couple of days, and when he is shown how to put the prosthetic eye in and take it out, keep it clean and the like, he’ll be off to the convalescent home. The leg is going to take a bit longer to heal, but he’s fairly nifty in a wheelchair. I mention you, Clive and Toby every time I visit and keep him up-to-date with what you’re up to, whether he likes it or not.

  At last, he seems to be less hostile to the three of you. Leave it another few weeks then write and ask if you could come to see him in the convalescent home. He has your photograph. I made sure to bring it once I knew his left eye was all right again. He keeps it in a drawer by his bed, but I did catch him looking at it. Never give up hope, Kate.

  All the best,

  Billy

  She wrote to Clive and Toby straight away, telling them the good news. Waiting the few weeks before Charlie moved to the convalescent home was far harder. Jean was brilliant, covering up her many mistakes. She didn’t want to be sent home on compassionate leave – she wouldn’t know what to do all by herself in Rose Cottage.

  The evening she wrote to Charlie, Jean made sure she got the privacy she craved until the letter was written.

  Dear Charlie,

  Please don’t be angry with Billy for telling me. Poor Billy, he’s been so good. He felt that he had to tell me, so if you have to be angry with someone be angry with me, although I hope you won’t be. Billy told me what you said about you looking like Long John Silver. I’ve read Treasure Island and I’ve never visualised him as the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, loved, or slept with.

  Once you’re settled in, could I come and see you? Say no if you think you need more time, but I so want to see you. I miss you and I’ve been so worried. So, please, Charlie? Also, if you have time and you’re up to it, could you write to Clive and Toby? I can’t tell you how worried they’ve been.

  Write soon, Charlie.

  I love you.

  Kate

  XXX

  She kissed the letter before she posted it, waited for a nerve-wracking week, and was surprised at just how quick the reply was.

  Dear Kate,

  Thanks for your letter. It’s nice here in Kent. It’s funny, I’m only twenty miles from where I crashed. You really want to come and see me? Not even Billy has been here yet. I suppose you’d better come if only to rapidly change your mind about me being, what was it? The most handsome man you’ve ever seen? Not now, Kate, let me tell you that first off but come if you must.

  I’ve been given the DFC. It was posted to me, which annoyed me a bit, but I suppose they can’t let loonies near the King. I’m walking now – well, it’s a mixture of a hobble and a walk – but I’ll never fly again, so I suppose they had to give me something. I wrote to Clive and Toby as you asked. They’ll probably want to come and visit, too.

  See you soon,

  Charlie

  The day after next, Kate was on a bus to the convalescent home. She got off in the nearest village and walked past the shops, wondering what she could bring him. Choosing some flowers and a newspaper, she set off for the home. The large convalescent home was a converted country house and she was shown into a hall-come-reception area. After introducing herself, she was shown into a psychologist’s office.

  “I’m Dr Eliot.” He smiled, rose from a chair behind a desk, and shook her hand. “Do sit down, Miss Sheridan.”

  “How is Charlie?” she asked. “When I wrote and asked him if I could visit, I expected him to turn me down flat.”

  “Charlie is progressing very well, I’m happy to say. When a person is under considerable strain and suffers great shocks, they react in different ways. What happened to his parents and friends must have been bad enough, but this accident has affected him very deeply.

  “He thought because of his eye and limp, no-one would have time for him and no-one would love him anymore,” Dr Eliot continued. “And, besides that, he didn’t want to put you through more pain by seeing him the way he is now. Mistaken reasoning but, as I said, we all react in different ways. He is seeing things in a more rational way now.”

  “How much longer will he be here?”

  “Not too long. Charlie and I have our chats every day. He will be able to look after himself and go home soon, but he will need to come back to see me every week so I can keep an eye on his mental progress.”

  “I see.” She nodded.

  “Well,” he added and they got up. “Charlie is outside in the gardens. He is very self-conscious, but that would be expected from anyone. If you would like to speak to me again after you’ve seen him, Miss Sheridan, feel free.”

  “Thank you very much, Dr Eliot.”

  She left the house, crossed a terrace and went down some steps to the gardens. Patients were strolling over the immaculate lawns or being pushed about in wheelchairs. One man, however, was dressed in RAF uniform and sitting on a wooden bench well away from everyone else. It was Charlie.

  She walked across the lawn to him, still clutching the flowers and newspaper. He was leaning back on the bench, his right leg straight out in front of him. She stopped, hardly daring to look at his face. He was staring straight ahead and didn’t seem to realise she was there.

  She peered at the false eye. The iris was dark brown, and not nearly as bad as she feared it would be. She sat and put the flowers and newspaper down between them.

  “Hello, Charlie,” she whispered.

  “Kate?” He turned to her and she looked at the eye again. It was very realistic, it just didn’t move like the other. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Thanks for your letter. I brought you these.” She gestured to the flowers and newspaper. “I didn’t know what to bring.”

  “Just you would have been enough, but thank you. It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s lovely.”

  “For a while, I thought I was going to be blind, despite what the doctors said.” His face contorted and she watched a tear roll down his cheek from his good eye.

  “Oh, Charlie.” She took a handkerchief out of a pocket, went to wipe his eye, then decided to give it to him.

  “No. You do it,” he told her, refusing to take it and she edged closer and dabbed at his eye while he watched her, clearly noting her reaction to him. “So, what do you think of it?” he asked. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I thought it would be much worse.”

  “Really?” His face brightened. “You’re not just saying that? I don’t need to be treated like a child.”

  “I know.” She ran a finger lightly around the eye. “And even if it was, I love you, Charlie. It wouldn’t have made any difference to me. You could have died, I hadn’t seen you for so long, and then you wouldn’t let me see you.” She fought back tears. “Tell me you want me to come back?”

  “I do.” He stroked her face. “I’m sorry. I thought I was going mad. Even before the accident, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. If it wasn’t for Dr French and now Dr Eliot, I think I would have gone mad. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”

  “You look well.” She clasped his hands and held them tightly. “Very well.”

  His face had filled out and so had his waist, a result of good food and being bedridden.

  “I know.” He smiled. “I’m fat. But I’ll walk it off. I started to walk again a couple of weeks ago. I go a bit further every day to strengthen the leg.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “A little. It’s nothing compared to before.” He rolled his eyes and she watched as only one went round. “When the morphine began to wear off.” He laughed.
“The doctor told me I would have to build up the muscles again.”

  “Let me see you walk, then.” She began to get up but he grasped her hands and held onto them.

  “Kate, kiss me?”

  Her heart thumped. She hadn’t kissed him for nearly two years. “Let me see how far you can walk, then I’ll reward you.”

  “Reward me how?” he whispered.

  She blushed, but replied, “I’ll give you a kiss you’ll never forget, Charlie Butler.”

  “Kiss me now? Please?”

  How could she refuse? Taking his face in her hands, she lowered it to hers. When she drew back, he smiled.

  “I don’t remember you making funny little noises like that before – funny little high-pitched squeaks.”

  She laughed. “It’s because I’ve wanted to kiss you for so, so long.”

  “I should have been making them, too, in that case,” he said and got slowly to his feet. “Oh, I was getting stiff. It’s time for my walk,” he added, holding out a hand.

  She stood up and took it. He had a pronounced limp so they walked slowly over the lawn towards a high hedge.

  “I’ve invited Clive and Toby here,” he told her. “I have to say sorry to their faces. I got this today.” He reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a photograph. It was of Clive and Toby in uniform.

  “Toby looks so like Bob.” She smiled. “And Clive…”

  “I know.” Charlie put an arm around her waist to steady himself. “It could be me thirteen years ago.” He peered into the distance and frowned.

  Kate turned his face towards hers and kissed him again. “You’re only thirty-one, Charlie. I’ll make sure you get rid of this.” She patted his stomach.

  “Will you, now? How?”

  “Exercise. Long walks.”

  “And…” He kissed her forehead, leaving the sentence unfinished and put the photograph back in his pocket. They walked on and into what turned out to be a maze. “I come here every day.” He gripped her hand tightly. “To think and walk round and round for hours. Nobody can hear me swearing in here.”