by Kitty Neale
After what seemed like an eternity, they finally pulled up outside the entrance and Sarah grabbed the door handle in a panic to get out of the van. She ran into the hospital, then stopped in her tracks when she realised she didn’t know where to go.
George caught up with her. ‘This way,’ he said.
They turned right and hurried along a corridor where Sarah spotted Lena talking to a man in a white coat. She quickened her pace until she was standing next to them and Lena turned towards her with a solemn face.
‘Where is he? Is he OK?’ Sarah asked breathlessly.
‘I’m … I’m … Oh, Sarah …’ Lena groaned.
‘What’s wrong? Where’s Tommy? I want to see him!’ Sarah cried, her heart pounding in her chest. Something wasn’t right, she could tell by the expressions on their faces.
The doctor placed his hand on Sarah’s arm. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he said, indicating a row of chairs against the wall.
‘I don’t want to sit down. I want to see Tommy,’ Sarah said, and desperately looked from Lena to the doctor for answers.
Lena looked away, dabbing her eyes, as the doctor said, ‘Miss Jepson, we did everything we could, but I’m very sorry to tell you that Tommy passed away ten minutes ago. There was nothing we could do for him.’
Sarah saw the doctor’s lips moving, heard his words, but they didn’t make sense. Her mind refused to accept what she was hearing. This must be some sort of silly mistake and the doctor was talking about another patient. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m here to see Tommy Jepson and he’s had a fit, that’s all. Where is he? What ward is he in?’
‘Miss Jepson, you don’t seem to understand what I am telling you. Your brother has died.’
No … he can’t be dead, Sarah thought. They’ve got it wrong. Furiously shaking her head in denial, she began to feel as if the walls were closing in on her. The whole world seemed to stop at that moment, yet she was stuck spinning on the spot. Her legs felt weak, and she crumpled towards the floor, but then George grabbed her around her waist to pull her back up and towards a seat.
‘I’m so sorry, Sarah,’ sobbed Lena.
Sarah looked up at the woman, but couldn’t speak. Lena was crying, but she just felt numb. They said her brother was dead. Tommy, the child she loved like a son. She should be sobbing, hysterical even, yet she felt nothing – nothing but a strange sensation of almost not being there, watching the scene from afar.
‘She’s in shock,’ she heard the doctor say to a nurse.
‘I’ll fetch her a cup of sweet tea,’ the nurse said in a hushed voice, and seemed to vanish as quickly as she appeared.
George was still holding her hand. She could feel the warmth of his palm in hers, and snatched her hand back. If she could feel his body heat, then it was real, and she didn’t want any of this to be true. Bile rose in her throat, and she retched. I’m going to be sick, she thought, and covered her mouth with her hand as she heaved.
‘Over there,’ the doctor said and pointed to a door on the other side of the corridor.
Sarah ran towards the bathroom, but she couldn’t hold it any longer, and stopped to lean forward. She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself as she uncontrollably vomited on the corridor floor.
George was by her side and offered her a handkerchief from his pocket. She took it and wiped her mouth. Her own handkerchief was in her handbag. She’d left it behind in her haste to get to the hospital. She wondered why she was having such inane thoughts. What was the matter with her? She had just been told that Tommy was dead.
‘Come on, love. Come and sit down again,’ George urged.
Sarah couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to make eye contact, knowing that if she did she would see his sympathy and it might break her. She wanted to stay in this cocoon – this numb bubble of denial and disbelief. She was safe there and wanted to shut out the world around her.
The nurse appeared again. She handed George the cup of tea and then put her arm around Sarah’s waist and led her back to the chair. ‘Come on, dear,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t worry about the mess. I’ll have an orderly clean it up.’
Sarah allowed the nurse to sit her down, and accepted the cup of tea from George as the nurse continued, ‘Drink it up, dear, it’ll make you feel better.’
How can it make me feel better if I can’t feel anything? Sarah thought, but nonetheless she sipped the hot sweet tea.
Lena had stopped crying, but was still sniffing, and as she looked at her, Sarah suddenly felt as though she was being pulled back to reality – a reality she still didn’t want to face. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was really happening, but her mind cried out against it. She wanted to go back in time, to before Tommy had died, but knew it was impossible. She wanted so much to hold him, to cuddle him for one last time. She asked, ‘Please, can I see him?’
‘Yes, of course. Nurse, take Miss Jepson to see her brother.’
‘This way,’ the nurse said, and walked with Sarah towards a set of double doors.
Sarah suddenly realised that George was beside her and she stopped, staring at the doors, not sure that she wanted to go any further. She wasn’t sure she could face the horror of what was behind them. Come on, she told herself. You can do this. Tommy is in there and you can’t leave him all alone.
‘Would you like me to come in with you?’ George asked.
Sarah nodded. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
The nurse pushed open one of the doors, and Sarah began to take rapid short breaths.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ George asked.
Again Sarah nodded, but looked steadily in front of her. I have to, she thought, desperate to hold Tommy in her arms. She apprehensively stepped forward, feeling that at any moment her knees would give way again, and was grateful for George’s arm supporting hers.
The room had no windows, just machines that weren’t switched on and a bed. My boy’s in that bed, thought Sarah, still holding on to the slim chance that there’d been some terrible mistake, and Tommy would open his eyes to look at her with one of his cheeky grins.
She slowly walked across the room, her eyes fixed on her little brother. He looked so small in the big bed, motionless, with the covers over him up to his neck. He’s just sleeping, she thought, and walked around to the side of his bed to peer down at him. She reached out her hand to brush his soft hair off his forehead and frowned. ‘Nurse, can you get him more blankets? He feels cold.’
George stepped over and put his arm round her shoulder, saying softly, ‘He doesn’t need more blankets, love.’
Sarah shrugged off George’s arm, and leaned over Tommy. ‘Wake up, little man. Mummy’s here now to take you home.’
There was no response and tears began to fall from her eyes. ‘Please, Tommy, stop playing silly beggers with me. It’s time to get up.’
George spoke softly again. ‘Sarah, he can’t hear you.’
Though she didn’t want to accept it, Sarah knew George was right. Tommy couldn’t hear her. He would never hear her again. He wasn’t going to wake up. The reality finally hit her and she let out an anguished cry as she collapsed onto the bed, clinging to Tommy’s lifeless body. ‘Tommy … my baby! Please, George, do something … you have to do something to bring him back.’
‘I wish I could, but I can’t and you’ve got to say goodbye now,’ George said, as he gently tried to tug her away.
‘No … I can’t leave him alone. He’ll be scared if I’m not with him. Tommy … Tommy … please come back to me,’ she begged, then, gasping, she cried, ‘I love you.’
Lena sat on one of the seats in the corridor, crying into her handkerchief, but her head shot up when she heard Sarah’s screams. It was such an agonising sound, one she’d heard many times during the war. She’d wailed like that when her husband had been killed. Poor Sarah, she thought. No woman should ever have to experience the agony of losing a child, and she was grateful George had been spared when the bomb had dropped.
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The doors opened and Sarah emerged with George almost holding her up. She was weeping inconsolably, and, as her legs buckled, Lena rushed over to help.
‘We need to get her home, Mum,’ George said quietly over the top of Sarah’s head.
Lena agreed. She wished she had some words of comfort to offer Sarah, but knew nothing she could say would take away the girl’s pain. She’d heard it all herself before, the condolences and phrases such as ‘Time heals’, but none of it had helped her. She understood how lonely grief could be, and time hadn’t healed. She had just learned to live with her heartache.
They managed to get Sarah to George’s van, and Lena was pleased that she didn’t protest when they told her she’d be staying with them. The ride home seemed a long one, and was mostly driven in silence, apart from the noise of Sarah crying. She’d stop for a minute or two and seem to pull herself together, but then her face would scrunch and the tears flowed again.
Lena wanted to bawl herself; she loved the boy too and would miss him terribly, but she had to be strong. Her own anguish was nothing compared to Sarah’s. The poor girl was bereft, and this was just the beginning of a very long period of mourning.
Chapter 38
Sarah awoke the next morning, and when she opened her puffy eyes, it took her a moment to realise where she was. The sun was streaming through a crack in the curtains in George’s room, and she wondered what the time was.
Then she gasped as the shocking memory of Tommy’s death hit her again. Unaware of what she was doing, Sarah sat up and an unnatural howl escaped her lips, then she was crying out, ‘No … no … no.’
She was too fraught to hear the tap on her bedroom door, but then George was beside her, sitting on the edge of the bed, ‘It’s all right, Sarah, let it out,’ he said soothingly as he gently rubbed her back.
After a while, her tears subsided, but her voice was a croak as she said, ‘I can’t believe he’s gone, George. For a moment, when I first woke up, I’d forgotten. How could I forget? What sort of mother am I?’
‘The best, Sarah, always the best. It’s natural for your brain to try and block it out. My mum was the same when my dad died. Do you want to come downstairs for a cuppa or shall I bring you one up?’
George was being so kind that Sarah felt tears welling again. She took a deep, juddering breath and managed to quell them, her voice shaky as she said, ‘Thanks, I’ll come down.’
‘Mum’s gone to open up the shop. She said to tell you not to worry about doing any shifts for a while.’
‘Oh, George, I hadn’t thought about work. All I can think about is Tommy …’ Sarah cried as she covered her face with her hands and tears fell again. Her shoulders jerked up and down as her heart broke.
‘It’s all very raw, love, and you need time to grieve. You stay in bed and I’ll bring you up that cuppa.’
George left the room. Sarah blew her nose. Her eyes were sore and she fought to stem her tears. The room looked dim and dreary with the curtains almost closed, so she climbed out of bed to open them. Though it was early, she saw some women sweeping their doorsteps, carrying on their normal everyday activities. Her child had died, and it didn’t seem right. How could life continue as normal? She snatched the curtains closed again, and climbed back into bed, preferring the dimness of the room to the bright sunshine outside.
‘There you go, love. There was a pot of tea made so I only had to pour it out,’ George said as he carried in a cup and placed it on the bedside table.
Sarah thanked him, but couldn’t smile. Her world had collapsed around her, and she felt like she would never smile again. She longed to hold Tommy once more, to see his cute face and hear his sweet voice, but he was gone. She looked up and cursed God. ‘Why?’ she yowled, ‘Why would you take such an innocent child? I hate you, do you hear me? I hate you!’
‘Oh, Sarah, I wish I could say something to comfort you,’ George said, looking close to tears too.
‘If He exists, God is supposed to give comfort, but all I can feel is pain. I don’t know what to believe any more. If there really is a God, how could he be so cruel? Tommy never did anything wrong, all he brought was goodness to this horrible world.’
‘I don’t know what to tell you, Sarah. I ain’t a believer but there’s plenty that are, so I don’t know, maybe there is something in it. You’ve got to see the vicar about Tommy’s funeral. Maybe it would help to talk to him?’
‘The funeral. Oh, no, I hadn’t thought about that. It wasn’t long ago that I was burying my mother, but there’s no way my Tommy is having a pauper’s grave too. No, he’s going to have a proper send-off. After all, it’s the last thing I can do for him,’ Sarah said, trying to hold back more tears.
‘You’ll do him proud, Sarah, I know you will. This is a bit awkward, especially at a time like this, but I can help you to pay for it.’
Sarah still had the reward money, and though she’d earmarked it for their future, without Tommy her plans held no meaning. At least she would be able to pay for Tommy’s funeral. ‘Thanks, George,’ she said, ‘but I can manage.’
‘You don’t have to make any arrangements just yet, but when the time comes will you at least let me help you?’
‘Yes, I’d be grateful if you would. To be honest, I’m struggling to hold myself together and can’t think straight. I just keep seeing Tommy’s face in my mind, and I can’t believe I’ll never see him grow up. It’s like a part of me is missing and I don’t know if I can carry on without him,’ Sarah said, and then she broke down again, sobbing.
George pulled her into his arms, and desperate for comfort, Sarah didn’t resist.
‘Let it all out, Sarah. As I said before, you need to grieve. In time, it will get easier, but in the meantime Mum and me are here to help you through this.’
Sarah could feel George’s shirt getting wet as her tears soaked into the material. She’d been strong in the past because she’d had to be for Tommy, but now, without him, she felt lost, as if she had no purpose in life any more.
Mo woke up excited, looking forward to meeting Barry again. She’d enjoyed pouting for his camera, and he’d told her she was a natural. Today he was going to add to her portfolio, and she couldn’t wait to be posing for him. He made her feel relaxed in front of the lens, and said she was beautiful. This was the break she’d needed and she believed it wouldn’t be long before she was on the front page of Vogue, with a career in films sure to follow.
Convinced he would disapprove, Mo hadn’t mentioned it to Sam yet. She’d decided to tell him when her picture appeared in a classy magazine, and that way he was sure to be impressed. He would see for himself that she was a proper model, and he’d be proud of her.
Mo went through her wardrobe and tried on several outfits before settling on a simple white blouse and a full swing black and white skirt with a wide waistband. She studied herself in the mirror and thought that with a heavier make-up than usual she looked striking. She wanted a second opinion from Sarah, but hadn’t heard her come home last night, and Tommy hadn’t pounded on her front door this morning to go to school.
Pleased with her appearance, and convinced it would make a good impression on Barry, she grabbed her handbag and ran downstairs, but when she knocked on Sarah’s door there was no answer. Mo frowned. Fits could be nasty, so maybe Tommy had been kept in hospital overnight as a precaution, and, knowing Sarah, she had probably gone out at the crack of dawn to see him.
Oh, well, she thought, she’d have to do without a second opinion. She left the house to head to Queenstown Road where Barry had a small flat and studio above a toyshop. When she arrived, Mo stood outside his door and pulled a small mirror from her bag to check her make-up before knocking.
‘Well, I say, look at you,’ Barry said, eyeing her with appreciation when he opened the door. ‘Come in, everything is set up and ready for you.’
Mo walked past Barry and into the studio. The curtains were drawn but there were bright spotlights angled towards a l
arge bed covered in pink satin. A wooden stepladder was positioned at the end of the bed, and there were large white screens on either side. This wasn’t what she’d expected, and it looked a bit sleazy, but she trusted Barry, and was sure he knew what he was doing.
Barry was well spoken and dressed smartly, and his confident manner, along with his knowledge of the modelling industry, had quickly gained her confidence. He looked about twenty years older than her, but Mo thought him rather good-looking, with blonde hair and a golden tan, though he was a bit on the skinny side for her taste.
‘What’s all this then?’ she asked, nodding towards the bed.
‘I need you to be relaxed as any tension will show in your jaw, and what better way to relax than on a bed?’ Barry answered. ‘Now then, before we start I want you to sign this.’
‘What is it?’ Mo said, worried. She glanced at the paper and saw there were some long words which she knew she’d struggle to read.
‘It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about. It’s just a contract to say that you are happy for me to show your photographs, which I will need to do if we are going to make you a top model.’
‘Oh, right, that’s fine,’ Mo said, taking the pen Barry held out and signing her name where he indicated.
‘Right, now that’s done, you can put your handbag on that chair, leave your shoes over there too and then climb onto the bed.’
Mo followed his instructions and knelt on the bed. ‘How do you want me?’
Barry ascended halfway up the ladder and looked through the lens of his camera. ‘Perfect,’ he said, and Mo heard the noise of the shutter as he began taking photographs.
‘Now, lean back and stretch your legs out,’ Barry instructed. ‘Good girl, you look beautiful … turn to your side, bend one knee up and lift your skirt a little higher. You have fabulous legs, let’s show them off.’
Mo wriggled on the satin sheets into poses she thought Barry would like. She found she was really enjoying herself and wasn’t the least bit nervous.
