by Katie Flynn
‘Oh, Jonty, if only you could . . .’ Tess began, but at that moment the back door opened and Mr Bell strode into the room. The telegraph boy, clearing his throat meaningfully, indicated the reply paid form.
‘If you wouldn’t mind, miss, the sooner you give me your reply the sooner it’ll reach the sender,’ he pointed out.
Tess stared. ‘Oh! Oh, I see; the telegram was sent to me so it must be I who reply to it. Only Jonty said exactly what I would have said myself.’ She seized the boy’s pencil and wrote swiftly: Coming asap stop Tess.
The boy studied the form. ‘The sender paid for another eleven words,’ he pointed out rather reproachfully. ‘Isn’t there anything else you’d like to add?’
Jonty laughed, but Tess just shook her head. ‘No, I think it’s better to keep it short,’ she said. ‘It’s no use pretending that I’ve any idea when I’ll reach Liverpool, because I haven’t. We’ve already missed the first train, the one I would have been catching in a few days’ time, and I’ve no idea when the next one leaves, let alone arrives. So that’s it, thank you.’
The boy tucked the reply-paid form into this pocket, sketched a vague salute to the assembled company and left. Tess watched him mount his bicycle and ride off across the yard, then turned to Mrs Bell, who was explaining what had just happened to her husband. ‘. . . so if it’s all right with you, Father, Jonty would like to go back to Liverpool with Tess, just for a couple of days,’ she was saying. ‘I don’t say we shan’t miss him, because we shall, but he deserve a day off now and again. Tomorrow was going to be a holiday anyway, so he can go with my blessing, if you’re of the same mind.’
Mr Bell nodded slowly. ‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘And then if there’s nowt much wrong with the old lady he can bring young Tess back to enjoy the rest of her time with us.’ He looked at the telegram, laid out upon the kitchen table, then smiled at Tess. ‘It don’t say your gran’s badly hurt, so if she can manage it she’s very welcome to come back with you and Jonty. Mother’d take good care of her, feed her up so’s she gets well all the quicker.’
Tess smiled back at him, but knew it was a poor effort. ‘I don’t think Mr Payne would have sent a telegram if Gran’s injuries weren’t serious,’ she said. ‘And she wouldn’t be in hospital either, not if they were trivial.’
‘True,’ Mr Bell said, nodding his head. He turned to Jonty. ‘If you’re going to go, best get a move on. You want to pack a bag, and you’d best leave me a list of tasks you’ll want one of the men to take on.’ He turned to Tess. ‘You’d best be packing yourself, my woman, and Mother here will put you up a few little treats for your gran . . .’
‘Right,’ Tess said, heading for the stairs, but Mrs Bell detained her. ‘Wait you a minute. Where’s Jonty goin’ to lay his head? We don’t want no gossip . . . some folk have evil minds.’
Tess laughed, unable to stop herself reflecting that it was Mrs Bell whose evil mind would start thinking things if she and Jonty shared the flat in Gran’s absence. But on this score at least she was able to reassure her hostess. ‘He’ll sleep in Mr Payne’s spare bedroom, I expect,’ she promised. ‘And thank you so much for inviting Gran; I know she’d love to come as soon as she’s well enough, because she’s said many a time how she regrets the fact that Bell Farm is such a long way off. If it was nearer she’d have come over long ago to thank you in person for your kindness to me.’
Mrs Bell began to ask whether there was anything else she could do to help but her son shook his head at her. ‘Leave it, Ma. If I’m to go to Liverpool with Tess then Pa will have to drive us to Norwich Thorpe and you might as well come along too. Then all the way there you can be finding out how best to help the Williamses.’ With that he disappeared up the stairs close on Tess’s heels, and in less time than Tess could have believed possible they were packing themselves into the Ford with Mr and Mrs Bell in the front and Tess, Jonty and all their luggage in the back.
Tess had only experienced Mr Bell’s driving when he was at the wheel of the Morris, and found his erratic progress in the Ford rather frightening; indeed, under normal circumstances she would have been terrified, but because she was longing to reach their destination she made no complaint as the tyres squealed on corners and the driver, instead of indicating right or left, kept turning the windscreen wipers on and off. It was Jonty who hissed in his breath between his teeth at every junction, for Mrs Bell seemed to take her husband’s driving for granted, though she did suggest mildly, as they turned into the station forecourt, that they might accompany the young people on to the concourse and have a cup of tea in the refreshment room ‘to calm our nerves’.
Mr Bell, parking askew so that he took up two spaces, looked vaguely affronted, but the others were too busy sorting out their luggage to soothe hurt feelings. Instead, Tess and Jonty hurried to the ticket office where Tess produced the telegram and the station master himself spread out timetables and helped them to plan the route which would bring them to Liverpool Lime Street most rapidly.
Because they had missed the train Tess would normally have caught they had several changes, but provided the services were more or less on time they should reach their destination by early evening at the latest. Mrs Bell had packed them some sandwiches and apples but nothing to drink, because she knew that vendors of tea, coffee and lemonade lined the platforms at most country stations in order that travellers might quench their thirst.
Tess and Jonty made full use of these facilities but even so, by the time their train drew in to Liverpool Lime Street, they were hot and tired and Tess’s anxiety had grown to nightmare proportions. She fairly tumbled out of the carriage, festooned with bags and baskets, and looked wildly round the platform. She did not expect to see Albert, knowing that he could have little idea of her possible time of arrival, but she thought he might have arranged for one of Gran’s colleagues at the bakery to meet each train. However, there wasn’t a face she recognised to be seen, so she was doubly glad of Jonty’s calming presence. He helped her to collect everything – his own possessions were in the rucksack on his back – and then the two of them set off. They had reached Lime Street itself and were staring rather hopelessly at the lengthy queue for taxis when Tess’s attention was caught by the headline on the fly sheet behind which a newspaper seller was offering copies of that day’s Echo. The fly sheet said, in enormous black letters: Coach overturns, many injured.
Tess gasped and grabbed Jonty’s arm. ‘That must be when Gran was hurt. Buy a copy, Jonty,’ she begged. ‘No wonder Albert sent us that telegram! I pray my poor darling gran isn’t badly hurt! She and I are such a happy little family . . . Oh, if anything happens to Gran . . .’
‘Join the queue,’ Jonty ordered. ‘I’ll get the paper.’
He left her, and Tess had turned to join the queue when, further up it, she saw someone she knew. He was staring straight ahead, not acknowledging her, behaving, in fact, the way he had always behaved since their falling out three years previously. But now, in her thirst for information, Tess would have questioned the Devil himself, had he been present. She abandoned her luggage and went over to the tall, fair-haired figure already halfway up the queue.
‘Snowy! Oh, Snowy, I’m in the most dreadful trouble. Have you read the Echo this evening? Yes, of course you have, you’ve got a copy. I’ve been away, but Mr Payne sent me a telegram to say my gran was in hospital after being injured in a coach accident. I don’t know which hospital she’s in, so I suppose I’ll have to go straight to Heyworth Street, unless . . . oh, Snowy, do you know where they took the injured?’
When she had first accosted him Snowy’s eyes had been cold as ice, his mouth set in a sneer, but as she explained it was as though the ice melted and the old Snowy, the one who had been her friend, suddenly reappeared. She was clutching his arm with her right hand and now he took it in a reassuring grasp. ‘They’re in the Stanley Hospital, or most of them are at any rate. I’ve a cousin who’s a nurse there and she said they’d taken most of the injured. But
look, Tess, you take my place in the queue and I’ll go to the back . . . or would you like me to come with you to the hospital? I’m awful sorry your gran was on the coach but of course, coming from Liverpool, most folk seem to know at least one of the passengers. I say, is all that luggage yours?’
‘Yes – no – well, it’s mine and my friend’s,’ Tess said rather wildly. ‘He’s gone to get a copy of the Echo because I thought it might mention the hospital, but now you’ve told me . . .’
But at this point Jonty joined them, raising his brows at Snowy. ‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked, then stuck out a hand. ‘How do you do, whoever you are! I heard you offering to give up your place in the queue to Tess. It’s awfully good of you, and if you don’t mind we’ll accept, because we’re very anxious to get to the hospital and find out just how bad Mrs Williams is.’
Once more, Tess watched as Snowy’s expression changed from concern to suspicion and then, warmingly, to a sort of friendship. As Snowy turned from them to go to the back of the queue, they both called their thanks, but before they could do more the next taxi to return to the rank drew up, and others in the queue ahead who had heard the conversation stood to one side and pushed the young pair into the vehicle with an injunction to the driver to: ‘Drive hell for leather to the Stanley Hospital, mate.’
In the taxi, Jonty put a comforting hand on Tess’s. ‘I expect Mr Payne will be with her, but of course they won’t tell him an awful lot, because he’s not a relative,’ he said. ‘In fact the doctors will be waiting for you, because if they need a signature and your gran can’t give it herself, then you, as her next of kin, will be the one whose go-ahead they need.’
Tess nodded, peering out through the dusk. ‘But if she needed an emergency operation I’m sure they wouldn’t wait for my say-so,’ she pointed out. ‘When it’s a matter of life or death . . .’
Jonty gave a theatrical sigh. ‘That’s right, look on the black side,’ he said resignedly. ‘I hope when your gran sits up in bed and asks why you’ve quit your holiday when it’s got almost another week to run, you’ll apologise to me for getting in such a lather.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘Who was that chap, by the way? The one who gave up his place in the queue to us.’
‘Oh, just a fellow I used to know, but we fell out and I haven’t come across him for ages,’ Tess said vaguely. ‘Ah, here’s the hospital. Oh, I am stupid, Jonty. We’ve got all this luggage which we’ll have to drag round the hospital with us! If I’d had a grain of sense, I’d have got the taxi to drop us at the flat and wait whilst we lugged this stuff upstairs and left it in the kitchen. Still, we’re doomed to carry it with us now, so we might as well get going.’
The taxi had drawn up in front of the revolving doors of the hospital and Tess and Jonty got out, collected their baggage and approached the foyer, and as they did so Tess gave a groan of dismay. ‘Look at all those people! It’s visiting time, that’s why it’s so dreadfully busy. Still, we’ll ask at reception for Gran’s ward, and perhaps someone will take us to it. It’s a big hospital and awfully easy to get lost in.’
They reached the reception desk and a stern-looking woman in a white coat surveyed them and their luggage through a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, but as soon as they gave Gran’s name she seemed to know it, and shook her head. ‘You can go up to the ward, my dear, but I don’t think you’ll be allowed to visit Mrs Williams tonight,’ she said kindly. ‘Indeed, there would be little point in it, as I believe she’s still sedated. She’s in a small room on the end of one of the wards, and is only allowed one visitor at a time.’
Tess felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Is she – is she very ill?’ she faltered. ‘I was staying with friends and received a telegram which just said she’d been injured in a coach accident. My Uncle Albert sent the telegram . . . is he here? In the hospital, I mean. Because if he is I really must see him.’
The lady behind the desk reached for a large book and scanned the names in it, then nodded, albeit a trifle reluctantly. ‘Ye-es, a Mr Albert Payne has spent a great deal of time here today, either in the waiting room or at Mrs Williams’s side,’ she admitted. ‘Are you a relative? I’m afraid if you aren’t—’
‘I’m her granddaughter and her next of kin; there are only the two of us so far as I know. My mother – Mrs Williams’s daughter – died at the start of the war,’ Tess said. ‘Jonty here is an old friend who is staying in Liverpool for a few days. Do you think Gran will be well enough to see him before he has to go back?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ the woman admitted. ‘You’ll have to ask the doctor. But of course your Uncle Albert may have already done so.’
Tess opened her mouth to say that Albert was just an honorary uncle and then closed it again. There was no harm in a little deception if it would help Gran to get better, and she was suddenly sure that Albert’s friendship could only do good, so she said: ‘Then we’d best go along to my gran’s ward and find Uncle Albert at once. Could you direct us, please?’
Albert sat by the bed, waiting. He had seen the doctors, who had simply accepted him as someone with Mrs Williams’s best interests at heart, and had told him quite enough to make him determined not to leave the hospital again until she had regained consciousness. Sister told him that they were now satisfied Mrs Williams had no internal injuries, but she had lost a good deal of blood and now she lay very still with tubes leading from various containers into her good hand. The ‘bad’ wrist had been stitched and rebandaged and her broken bones set, save for the ribs which Sister assured Albert would knit themselves, given time.
What worried Albert most, and he knew it worried the hospital staff too, was the fact that she had not yet recovered consciousness, though he had been immensely heartened when she had returned the pressure of his hand the previous night. But Sister was encouraging. ‘She’s strong and determined; I’m sure she’s just using this period of complete shutdown to help her to mend,’ she had said. ‘So you must not worry, Mr Payne, or she may become conscious that all is not well.’ She had smiled kindly at him, a fat, bustling little woman, always on the go, seldom sitting down for more than a few minutes at a time; a woman in fact very similar to the one now lying so still and silent in her hospital bed. For some reason this gave Albert the feeling that whilst Sister Bowen was on duty his dear Edie was in safe hands, though conversely, of course, it meant that when Sister Bowen went off duty and Night Sister appeared, Albert was reluctant to leave the hospital in case Edie took a turn for the worse.
So now he sat on the uncomfortable little bench, holding Edie’s hand and watching the slow drip drip as the blood transfusion made its way from the bottle into the back of Edie’s hand.
When he heard a soft tap on the door he was so surprised that he let go of Edie’s hand, for nurses and doctors bustled in and out without so much as a by your leave, and since it was only Edie who occupied the small room no one else had any reason to tap on the door. Albert went across with a finger already to his lips, but he had barely got the door open before Tess was clutching his hands, and he saw tears rolling down her white and frightened face.
‘Oh, Albert, I came as soon as I could,’ she whispered. ‘Poor darling Gran! Please may I see her, just to reassure myself that . . .’
But Albert had already stood aside to let her through and in seconds she was bending over the bed, her voice low but full of love. ‘Darling Gran, it’s your Tess; I’ve come home! You must get better, because we’re such a little family, just the two of us, and if one goes . . .’ But the figure in the bed had stirred. And even as Tess turned wildly towards Albert, Gran spoke.
‘Tess, Tess,’ she said in a tiny, cracked voice which Albert hardly recognised. ‘I knew . . . I knew . . .’
‘You knew I’d come,’ Tess said tenderly. ‘And you were right; as soon as I got Albert’s telegram Jonty and I set out for the station. Oh, Gran, now that I’m here you’ve simply got to get well!’
Albert went quickly over to Tess where she stood by the s
ide of the bed. ‘Wait until we tell the staff,’ he whispered. ‘They’ve been waiting for her to speak, and now she’s done it I’m sure she’ll begin to improve. But we mustn’t tire her. Just reassure her that you won’t go far, and you’ll be here for her when she wakes tomorrow.’
Tess did so, and Albert took her arm and was about to lead her from the ward when Gran spoke again. ‘Dear Albert, thank you,’ she said. Albert looked back eagerly, but Edie’s eyes had closed once more and she turned her head into the pillow, making it plainer than words could that she just wanted to sleep.
Albert and Tess left the small room together, to find Jonty awaiting them in the corridor. He grinned sheepishly from one to the other. ‘I didn’t want to come in. It didn’t seem fair somehow to see your gran for the first time when she’s so ill,’ he explained. ‘But I gather from your expressions that you’re pleased about something. I’m so glad.’
Albert beamed. ‘She’s spoken, and recognised us both,’ he said joyfully. ‘Sister Bowen said that once she came round getting better would just be a matter of time. She’d had a bang on the head during the coach accident, you see, and they were afraid there might be brain damage, though Sister Bowen thought it a remote possibility. But we must find someone in authority . . .’ He broke off as a figure approached them, and when she got close enough Tess could see that it was a sister. She glanced at Albert and saw that he was smiling once more as he went to meet the nurse. ‘Sister Bowen, Mrs Williams has come round and recognised us,’ he said. ‘As you know, I could hardly bear to leave her side while she was unconscious, but now we’ll go home and return tomorrow morning, if that’s acceptable.’
Sister said it was and accompanied them to the foyer. ‘But don’t come too early, because Doctor does a ward round in the mornings,’ she told them. ‘Just get yourself a good night’s sleep.’ She turned to Tess. ‘I don’t know whether your uncle has told you, but he didn’t escape unscathed from the accident himself. He’s nursing a broken collarbone and a great many contusions, but nothing that won’t mend so long as he doesn’t try to do too much.’