The dreaded bath was over. Perhaps because she was so happy it didn’t seem quite such an ordeal. Janet and a junior nurse were as kind and caring as ever, chatting away, distracting her, laughing with her in ways that she so much appreciated.
Once she was back in her cotton pyjamas – cotton that was almost as soft as silk, she had exclaimed when Janet, at her request, had brought in something more appealing than the hospital gowns she had worn during her “coma period” as she now referred to it. Today she wore yellow and the cheerful colour matched her mood.
“Janet, I need to talk to you,” she said quietly as Sarah left the room with the bowl of used dressings.
“I’ll slip back in my break, Liz, at about ten-thirty.”
“Thank you,” Liz responded with the most cheerful face Janet had ever seen on her. She was curious, Liz O’Malley had been a worry to them when she was in the coma – she seemed to have a series of highs and lows. The family visits, Philip and the boys, usually seemed to buoy her up, but two days ago when Philip Broderick – or Sir Philip, she mentally corrected herself – had left she had found Liz sobbing and inconsolable.
Gathering her scattered thoughts, she returned to the ward director for the daily briefing and set about her duties. As usual, the time sped by and it was not until her flatmate reminded her, that she realised it was time for her break. Grabbing a mug of coffee from the staff kitchen and a couple of much-needed biscuits (she was always starving at this point in the day), she walked as quickly as the coffee would allow without spilling it and arrived with Liz at ten-forty.
Liz was expecting her and, knowing Janet’s penchant for biscuits, she had asked Philip to refill her small biscuit barrel. Philip had arrived with some freshly baked shortcake biscuits from Judy’s kitchen. He had been with Liz for half an hour when Janet arrived. He kissed Liz lightly on the forehead and said he had some business to attend to.
Philip had a major shopping expedition in mind. Liz had talked and been encouraged by him to describe her home, her garden, the staff and, of course, the horses. Philip felt he had built up a mental picture of the home they would share. She had described how she loved to lie in the hammock and look up at the waving palm fronds, or at night, look up at the stars – crystal clear in the cloudless midnight blue where they were studded – it seemed like a magical roof to the world.
She told him how Ashok had, at her request, purchased the hammock and strung it from the trees. The cork-made hammock, with its individual corks threaded together, was not the most comfortable, but being Liz she had not wanted to hurt Ashok’s feelings. Now Philip felt it was time for a new hammock, the perfect excuse being Liz’s fragility.
Liz had mentioned that she had dreamed of home and swinging in a silken hammock with her horses standing nearby. Philip was determined that such a hammock would be there waiting for her return whenever that might be.
He drove to the mall and parked the hire car. It was such an enormous car park that he made a number of observations to enable him to locate his car again. He was amazed there were no row markings that he could see, and he thought in a distracted moment it would be all too easy to park, go straight into the mall and completely lose track of which of the many exits and entrances one had chosen.
Philip mentioned these thoughts to one of the friendly assistants in his chosen store. She laughed as she told him that customers regularly can’t find their cars or trucks. “That’s why our security people have a special vehicle to drive people around searching.” Philip was bemused, in this most modern of countries, there was no system of numbering or lettering parking places!
He found the hammock he sought – it was made of durable but soft linen and the proportions were generous. He arranged to have it packed and sent c/o Anjali at Villa O’Mal. He gave the young woman who had attended to him so well a letter that must be attached clearly, so that when the package was opened the letter would be easily located. He had written:
Dear Anjali,
Please excuse me addressing you so informally but that is how your mistress always refers to you. It has been good talking to you on the phone and Elizabeth, as you know, continues to make good, but very slow, progress.
She wants so much to return home and as soon as we can persuade the doctors to “let her go”, I shall bring her safely back to you. Meanwhile, I have bought a new hammock. Elizabeth has told me how much Nina loved the cork hammock, in fact, she knew that Nina sometimes enjoyed a secret swing in it! So will you please ask Ashok to take it down and give it to Nina. Please explain that Madame needs a very soft hammock and I am sending one to you because I know you will be able to arrange for it to be lined with padded silk.
You will know we are coming home as soon as we know, so you will know when the hammock should be ready and hung. Thank you for your help with this. I look forward to seeing you in Goa.
Yours sincerely,
Philip Broderick.
*
Anjali received quite a large parcel from America. She noticed it was addressed to her and wondered why Madame had not used her surname. Once opened she found the letter and read it through carefully, she recognised the name for Madame often spoke of Jack and Jamie Broderick, and Anjali knew she had met their father in Delhi. Now, he was writing as if he would be living with Madame. She remembered Alex with some horror. He had caused Madame to be so angry and upset everyone. This Philip Broderick did not seem like that, she hoped that was the case.
She read the instructions again very carefully, smiling when she read Nina could have the old hammock. That would make the girl very happy. She carefully opened the hammock out, it was wider than the cork one – almost double the width. She knew exactly what to do, it would be blissfully comfortable by the time it was finished.
Leaving it in her sitting room she went to find Ashok. Very carefully she explained that Madame would like Nina to have the hammock. Ashok looked both shocked and surprised. “But I chose it for Madame why should Nina have it now?”
“Madame has been hurt – many broken bones, she must lie on something soft, as soft as—” she hesitated. Looking up she noticed a rare, puffy cloud. “As soft as that cloud Ashok.”
“I understand Anjali. My Nina will be happy. About the hammock,” he added quickly. “Not Madame’s pain, I mean, I will take it down this morning.”
“Please do it later, Ashok. I need you to take me to the tailor with Madame’s new hammock – sent all the way from America.” Ashok looked astonished.
“All the way from America,” he repeated. How Nina would love to hear that, and how she would love to swing in the cork hammock. He wished he could tell her straight away but instead he had to take Anjali and the new hammock to the tailor. It would be a nice surprise for Nina, he would tell her before the children arrived back from school.
A short while later Anjali and Ashok were in the car with the new hammock folded on the back seat. They had left the poles and rings behind at the villa. Ashok had to wait quite a long time while Anjali was with the tailor. Several times he went in but Anjali didn’t notice him, she was so absorbed in the arrays of silk that the tailor was displaying.
Finally, finally, Anjali made up her mind, it had to be a restful colour for Madame would rest there until she grew stronger. She chose a green silk – the green of soft new shoots after the monsoon, and she explained to the tailor that the silk should be softly padded and ties should be placed on the hammock and the new silk-covered padding so it could be easily removed for cleaning and again during the monsoon.
The tailor knew exactly what she meant and produced some wondrous light padding that he kept to pad exotic garments for male clients who wanted to appear better endowed. “I shall make cushions,” Anjali exclaimed. “Lots of different coloured silks and the wondrous padding.” She chose gold, two different shades of blue, cream and magenta. They haggled over the price of the silk, the cost of the work and
the padding, but finally they were both satisfied they had a bargain.
“It will be ready in four days – hand sewn of course,” the tailor said.
“Of course,” Anjali replied sweeping regally out of the small shop. She started sewing that evening. Meanwhile Ashok had taken down the cork hammock on their return from the tailors. Through the open window, Anjali could hear shrieks of laughter from Ashok and Nina’s garden. She smiled to herself – Madame would be so happy for Nina. Madame though would need quiet and rest, she must remember to tell Ashok no noise like that again.
Her nimble fingers held a thin needle that went in and out of the fine silk, with every stitch she thought of her mistress and hoped it would not be too long before her head rested on one of these cushions.
*
Janet’s break was nearly over. She was listening spellbound to what Liz O’Malley was saying. She felt excited, flattered, unsure. So many emotions. She loved her job, what was she giving up and what would she do when the contract ended?
Liz saw the gamut of emotions passing over Janet’s face. “I really would love you to come, Janet, so would Philip. I could go back home so much sooner if you were there to help me. But of course, you must think it through very carefully.” She then described the house, the staff, the gardens, the beach and even the horses. “I can’t ride. I’m terrified of horses.”
Liz laughed. “That won’t be a requirement, Janet dear, I only mentioned it in case you rode!”
Janet wondered how long she would stay and the two women talked about Liz’s rate of recovery, deciding that once she no longer had dressings that needed to be changed and could bathe herself that would be the natural break-off point. Liz explained that, as part of the contract, they would pay her airfare to wherever she wanted to go, back to England or the States or somewhere else.
“Can I think about it?”
“I would perhaps think less of you if you didn’t. Just let me know when you can because I want to start working on these doctors. I know I shall make a quicker recovery once I’m home.” Janet glanced at her watch and said, “I must fly. I’ll see you before I leave – but I need to think about it overnight.”
“Of course,” Liz said with a smile, desperately wanting to put some pressure on but knowing she must not.
For Janet, the rest of the day was a bit of a blur. Her work didn’t suffer despite the fact that her mind seemed to be somewhere else. She had a picture in her mind of Liz’s home – it was appealing and different. Her first reaction had been to say yes, but some inner sense made her cautious and she knew that if she made the decision to go she must be very sure.
Her contract with the hospital was up for renewal and, strangely enough, although she was terrifically happy she had not yet signed on for another twelve months. So, legally, in one week she was free to walk away. Janet and her flatmate, Sarah, talked long into the night. Sarah tried to play a bit of a devil’s advocate marshalling as many arguments against the proposal as she could.
One by one Janet demolished the arguments. “I suppose,” said Sarah ruefully, “I shall have to find someone to share my apartment with. It’s not everyone I’m prepared to share my bathroom with either, and you don’t snore. My last flatmate snored so loudly that even with both bedroom doors shut I had to wear earplugs!”
“Oh Sarah, I shall miss you.”
“You are going then?” Janet nodded.
“How can I lose? I like Liz O’Malley and Philip Broderick.”
“Sir Philip to you,” quipped Sarah with a wicked grin.
“Right, Sir Philip seems nice too. It’s an opportunity to see part of the world I would probably never go to. I think Liz will need me for no more than about three months and, with any luck, the hospital will give me a new contract with a three-month break.”
“Don’t sign a contract here before you go,” Sarah warned. “What happens if Liz is not ready to be left? Just tell them here, you hope to be back and as soon as you have a date you will email and renegotiate a contract.”
It was sound advice and Janet decided to take it. Sarah raised the perhaps thorny subject of a contract with Liz. “Oh that’s alright,” Janet assured her. “Sir Philip is going to draw up something and I am only to sign if I am happy with it. Right?”
“Right,” Sarah agreed but suggested she had sight of it as well.
Philip had, in fact, produced a letter for Janet which Liz gave her the following morning. The letter asked if she would like to travel with them to India and stay until she felt happy that Liz could cope. At that stage, the letter continued, they would purchase a ticket to whichever place or country she chose to go to. Whilst she was with them, Janet read, her salary would match that of the hospital. This all seemed very generous considering she was paying nothing for accommodation.
There were two copies of the letter and Philip and Liz had signed them both. An attached piece of paper suggested she keep one copy for herself and would she sign and date the other for them. Without hesitation, Janet did so, putting her copy in the back of her passport for safe keeping.
Liz was not very often cross, but the doctors were being obdurate in their refusal to let her travel. She was being equally obdurate but didn’t seem to be getting through to them at all. Although Philip, half longing to get her away from the hospital, was also anxious about the proposed journey.
It was Janet who finally swung things. She had arrived as cheerfully as ever and walked into a maelstrom of massive proportion. “Our cockney sparrow came through for us, Liz,” Philip said afterwards. Liz had cajoled, wept and been angry to no avail, but Janet calmly, more calmly than she felt, and with an unruffled air, talked to the medical staff assuring and reassuring. She finally got them to accept that if Liz could walk across the room unaided they would reconsider the possibility of her travelling.
Liz’s legs were healing well now, her face too, although it was pointed out that at some time she might like cosmetic surgery to improve the appearance of the scar, now much less vivid but difficult to conceal with her shorter hair. She had got used to it now and felt that once her hair grew it would be quite well hidden. She could, she assured them, have plastic surgery at home if she wanted to.
She worked hard at her leg exercises, every day she added a step or two, and finally the day arrived and on sixteenth of September – a date forever cast in her brain – she walked slowly and carefully across the room.
If Philip was anxious he didn’t let her see it. In turn, he had gently bullied, praised and scolded her, and now with Janet’s ongoing help, she had walked slowly, very slowly, across the room. Once she stopped “thinking”, her legs would begin to give way under her but, waving away help with her left arm, the right one still stiff from the multiple breaks (which, although healed, needed more time to re-learn how to function properly), she walked on, collapsing with relief into the wheelchair which Philip had pushed alongside her as she walked.
“You see,” she triumphed. “I can walk – I can go home now.” Smiling at her achievements her doctors agreed, albeit with reluctance. Liz O’Malley could be discharged with Nurse Janet Aiken in tow.
Philip produced a bottle of champagne and they all had a sip or two. The glasses, along with the champagne, had been carefully hidden in a bathroom cupboard – it was, of course, not chilled. However, even though doctors never drink on duty they informed their patient, “There has to be an exception to every rule”, and they allowed themselves a sip or two.
chapter 42
Philip didn’t rush at arranging the journey, as the travel plans were a shade complicated with a break in Delhi for a few days. Although Liz was walking a little further every day, she would be using a wheelchair for the journey. On the hospital’s advice, they had purchased a fairly lightweight chair as it was anticipated that its use was finite, but it had also been chosen with comfort in mind.
Philip booked the fl
ight and explained who would be travelling. As soon as they realised it was, as far as they were concerned, a current Ambassador plus a famous author, who was known to have had a serious accident whilst staying in their country, accompanied, of course, by a nurse, British Airways did all they could to make sure their Business Class seats were upgraded to First Class and that Liz would have particularly easy access to a toilet.
He contacted the embassy and arranged to stay overnight there. The newly appointed Ambassador and his wife were old friends and were delighted to have Philip, his fiancée and a nurse for as long as they wanted! They insisted the embassy limo would meet the flight, which would, of course, ease the chaos that seemed to prevail at airports in India.
Janet already had endeared herself to both of them and Philip’s referring to her as a real cockney sparrow had stuck and now her nickname was, of course, Sparrow. Janet had never had a nickname in her life and had never liked her name anyway. She loved being addressed as Sparrow and she felt the nickname was a good omen.
She had finished work now, but arrived at the hospital every day to watch the physiotherapist at work. She, of course, watched with particular interest and it was not long before Shirley allowed her to “try her hand”. “You are a natural, honey,” the white-haired physio drawled and started teaching her movements that would help Liz as she progressed back to full health. Janet’s nursing expertise was, of course, the important thing, but in conjunction with what she was learning she felt she could be more help to Liz than she had envisaged.
When Philip arrived on Friday evening he waved three airline tickets. “We are off on Sunday,” he announced. “Oh my goodness,” Janet clapped her hands in delight. “That will be luverly.”
“Dear Sparrow – it will be perfect,” Liz said happily. She was finally on her way home.
*
The Portuguese House Page 23