by Hilary Green
Hal was crossing the yard carrying Simon in his arms. Simon’s head and arms hung limp. Tim came running, screaming “Mummy! Mummy!” By the caravan Barney and Alexis stood with the horse which was stamping and jerking its head against the halter.
Hal said, “I’m afraid he got kicked. It’s knocked him out. Get some water. He’ll be all right.”
We laid him on the settle. There was blood running from his nose and the imprint of the hoof was clearly visible across his cheekbone. He was white and deathly still. I bathed his face, sobbing and calling his name. Paul stood by, holding Tim and trying to reassure him. Hal patted my shoulder and repeated “He’ll be all right,” but when I looked up into his eyes for confirmation he turned his head away. A few moments later Simon was violently sick without regaining consciousness.
When we had cleaned him up I said, “Hal, he’s got to go to hospital.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said sharply, “How can he?”
“He’s got to,” I reiterated. I was not sobbing any longer. Alexis and Barney had come in and were standing by the door.
“How are we going to get him there?” Hal said obstinately.
Paul looked up from comforting Tim and said, “Lexi . . . ?”
After a second Alexis said, “There’s about a gallon of petrol in the car. Enough to get you to Hereford and perhaps back again. I was keeping it for .... emergencies.”
“O.K.!” Hal said with sudden violence. “So you get to Hereford. Then what? They’ll want your I.D. cards at the hospital. Then they will want to know where you came from, where you’ve been living. Next thing, we shall have the KBG out here.”
“Hal!” I cried. “If I don’t take him he could die. He may have a fractured skull or something. I won’t tell them where I’ve been. I’ll say we’ve been squatting in an abandoned farm-house somewhere else —on our own.”
“Oh yeah?” he said. “Which one? Tell me the address. How do you get to it?”
Barney put in quickly, “There’s an old farm cottage the other side of the village, by the stream. You know where I mean. If Nell said she’d been there it wouldn’t connect her with us.”
“And suppose they go and search it?”
“We could go over there and leave some stuff around—blankets, a bit of food, some of their own gear. They wouldn’t bother too much about searching. Why should they?”
I looked at him gratefully.
“Thanks, Barney. And you, Alexis. I know it’s asking a lot. I’ve got to go, Hal. I won’t mention you, or this place, I promise.”
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “O.K. I’ll drive you. Is that all right with you, Alexis?”
Alexis handed over the car keys and Hal went out.
Barney said, “It’s my fault, Nell. Don’t blame the horse. He didn’t understand what we were trying to do.”
I swallowed. “It’s not your fault, Barney. I should have kept the boys out of the way.”
The car drew up outside. Rather to my surprise it was Alexis who stepped forward and gently lifted Simon. He moaned slightly but his eyelids did not open. We wrapped him in a blanket and got him onto the back seat of the car. Tim sat by his feet. I got in beside Hal and he let in the clutch. As we bumped through the gate I looked back. They were all standing in a group by the door. I realised that I had not said goodbye.
We drove in silence along the narrow roads between their high hedges. Every now and then I turned in my seat to touch Simon’s white face. He stirred once or twice and seemed to be half conscious but he did not speak.
At length Hal said, “What will you do—when he’s in the hospital?”
I sat with an empty silence in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t know. It depends how ill he is.”
“You’ll stay with him?”
“If they’ll let me.”
He said no more.
We entered the outskirts of Hereford. The streets were quiet and there was no sign of damage. It was possible to imagine that the town had escaped the conflicts which had racked the rest of the country. Then two truck loads of soldiers pulled out from a turning in front of us. My stomach turned over. The air of peace was an illusion. The army had moved in here, too. As we drove through the town we saw more army vehicles and twice dispatch riders on motor-cycles passed us. There seemed to be a good deal of activity going on but, to my intense relief, there were no road blocks.
Neither of us had any idea where the hospital was. Hal did not want to stop and ask but eventually I insisted. A kindly woman directed us in a lilting Hereford accent, without apparent curiosity. A few minutes later we drew up outside the casualty department. The first thing we both saw as we did so were two army trucks and a field ambulance pulled up outside.
Hal looked at me. “Looks like there’s been some fighting. The whole place is swarming with soldiers.”
“I can’t help that,” I said urgently. “I’ve got to get Simon to a doctor.”
He shrugged and got out. I helped him lift Simon out of the car. He moaned slightly but his eyes remained shut as Hal carried him into the main reception hall. Thirty or forty soldiers sat around on benches and chairs, most of them with bandages on arms or legs or heads. They were chatting quite cheerfully, indeed there was a certain air of gaiety about the atmosphere. None of them appeared to notice us.
A nurse came forward from behind a desk. “What happened, dear?”
“He was kicked by a horse,” I said. “He’s been sick. I think it’s concussion.”
The nurse beckoned to a porter with a trolley and Hal laid Simon on it. The nurse said, “I’ll get someone to look at him as soon as I can, but, as you can see, we’re rather busy at the moment.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if her casualty department was usually full of wounded soldiers.
Hal said, “I’ll just go and shift the car into the car park.”
When he had gone I sank down onto a vacant seat and pulled Tim onto my lap. Simon lay still on the trolley. I wanted to shout to someone to come and take care of him but I could only catch glimpses of nurses and doctors as they hurried across the hall.
A soldier sat nearby with a bandage round his head. He was in his middle thirties, I guessed, weathered and tough looking—a professional, I thought. Tucked under the tab on his shoulder was a folded blue beret. I could not recall having seen soldiers in blue berets before.
Tim whispered, “What’s happened to that soldier, Mummy? Has he been shot?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back.
The man had been gazing blankly in front of him. Now he looked round and smiled at us, glad I thought to have something to alleviate the boredom of a long wait.
“Bit of shrapnel, son,” he said. “Got too near to a shell.”
Shrapnel, shells! I turned the words over in my mind. But who had fired them? Were we in the middle of a civil war, or had we been invaded? In either case, who was fighting whom —and which side of the lines were we on?
“You waiting to see the doctor?” the soldier asked Tim.
“No,” he answered. “It’s my brother.” He indicated with his eyes the stretcher where Simon lay.
The man got up and went over to look at Simon. Then he turned back to me and spoke less casually.“What happened to him?”
“He was kicked by a horse.”
He bent over Simon for a moment, then said, “Has the doctor seen him?”
“Not yet. We’ve got to wait our turn, you see.”
He followed my gaze around the crowded hall.
“We’ll see about that. Hang on.”
I watched him cross the hall and speak to an officer, indicating Simon. The officer nodded and beckoned to a nurse and the soldier came back to me.
“His turn next,” he said with a wry grin. “We’re supposed to be in this for the benefit of people like you, not to stop you getting attention when you need it.”
I thanked him rather shakily and he sat down again. It occurred to me t
hat no-one had asked for our identity cards or questioned us in any way. Emboldened I said, “Can you tell me what is going on, exactly?”
He looked at me with mild curiosity.
“I can’t tell you the situation out there,” he jerked his head vaguely eastwards, “if that’s what you mean. That’s military information, that is.”
“No ...” I groped for words. “I don’t mean that. I mean, who exactly is fighting whom?”
His gaze sharpened. “Where have you come from?”
“Up in the hills,” I told him. “I’ve been —staying—on a farm. It’s rather cut off and we didn’t have a radio, so I don’t know what’s been going on.”
“How long have you been there?”
“About a month?”
He nodded slowly as if this explained a good deal. “Running away from the KBG, were you?” I swallowed and felt my stomach lurch, but he went on, “I’ve come across a lot of people like you lately, hiding up in all sorts of bolt holes away from those bastards. Don’t worry. It won’t be much longer.”
I stared at him. “Then you’re fighting against the KBG!”
He stared back at me for a moment and then gave a small, explosive laugh.
“Christ! You didn’t think I was one of them, did you?” Then, more soberly, “Well, no reason why you should think any different, I suppose, if you’ve been out of touch for the last few weeks.”
A nurse came over. “The doctor will see your little boy now. If you’ll just wait here, we’ll let you know as soon as the doctor has finished his examination.”
Simon was wheeled away. I turned back to the soldier. “Please, tell me what is happening. Is there a civil war going on?”
He hesitated and fingered the bandage round his head. “Well, I suppose you could call it that. No . . . well, no, not what you’d call a war. Let’s hope it won’t come to that. A bit of a skirmish, like.”
“But you are fighting against the government?”
“Against the government as formed by the so-called National Unity Party, yes.”
“And who are you?”
He shrugged and grinned. “We haven’t got a name. People suggested things like The People’s Democratic Army and things like that, but we didn’t really reckon them. We’re just a lot of blokes like me who couldn’t stick the way things were going and got out.”
“Out to where?”
“Over the River, into the Forest of Dean. I was serving near Bristol. Soon as I heard General Gray was over there and they’d declared themselves independent I went across the water first chance I got. Lot’s of others did the same.”
“General Gray?” I repeated.
“Yes. Our Commanding Officer now. Did you come over the River too? You’re not from hereabouts, are you? I’m not being nosy. It’s just that if you did come that way you probably met him. He always made a point of interviewing refugees himself.”
“Is he a tall, rather thin man, with greying hair?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s him. Thought you’d probably run into him.”
I remembered the quietly spoken, courteous man who had helped me to get a lift to Hay.
“I had no idea that he was a soldier.”
“No. He was keeping pretty quiet earlier on—waiting to see how things worked out, I suppose.”
“But now he’s leading this —attack?”
“Yep. Got his H.Q, here in Hereford, in the Town Hall —for the time being, anyway.”
“When did all this start?”
“We moved north day before yesterday. They weren’t expecting us, of course. Didn’t take us long to mop up any resistance. Different kettle of fish today, though. They started moving units north from Gloucester and Oxford as soon as the news got through. We were sent out to hold them off. That’s where I got this.”
I frowned at him. Somehow the story still didn’t make sense.
“But are there enough of you? I mean, surely you can’t take on the rest of the British Army, can you?”
He gave me a long, hard look. “Listen. I don’t know it all, and if I did I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that we’re not in this alone. I don’t know who the others are, or where they are, but when we started out the General told us it wouldn’t be more than a few days, and I believe him.”
An orderly called a name. The soldier looked up and rose.
“That’s me. Well, all the best. I hope the kid’s all right —and don’t worry! I’m telling you —in a few days it’ll be over.”
He nodded and gave me another wryly humorous grin, then moved away and disappeared down one of the corridors. I realized suddenly that I had seen no sign of Hal. Calling Tim to me I went to the door, and then round the corner of the building to the car park. Alexis’s battered old car was quite distinctive, impossible to miss. It was not in the car park.
I turned and walked slowly back to the casualty department where I sank down in the same seat as before.
I was roused by a nurse saying, “Come along, dear. Your little boy’s awake now. I expect you’d like to see him.”
I started up. “Is he all right?”
“We’ve done an X-ray and the doctor doesn’t think there’s anything serious. He’s with him now. You can talk to him yourself.”
She led us to a little cubicle. It was empty except for the high, white covered bed on which Simon looked tiny under the hospital blanket. I went over and looked down at him. His eyes were still closed. I whispered, “Simon. . . .?”
Slowly the pale lids with their faint tracery of blue veins lifted. His eyes were vague, unfocused, but his lips moved, framing the word, “Mummy”.
I leaned over and stroked his face and said, very calmly and cheerfully,“Hello, darling. Don’t worry. Everything’s all right. You’ll soon be feeling better.”
A doctor in a white coat came from the next room.
“Ah, you’re his mother? Mrs . . .? We don’t seem to have any particulars yet.”
“Fairing,” I said. “His name is Simon. Is he going to be all right?”
He came and stood by Simon, looking down at him.
“Yes, I think so. He’s had a nasty bang on the head, of course, but the X-ray doesn’t show any serious damage. We’ll keep him in for a day or two, just to make sure. If you’ll just give the nurse some details we’ll get him admitted and then you can go up to the ward with him and see him settled.”
The nurse took me to a desk and began to fill in the usual admission form. When I told her our address she looked up and said, “Oh, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” but she did not pursue the question any further. No one mentioned travel passes or identity cards.
We saw Simon put to bed in a small ward with some other children. He was still very drowsy and very soon drifted off into sleep. A kindly nurse said, “I should come back this evening, if I were you. He won’t know whether you’re here or not before then.”
Tim was restless and hungry and I realized that it was well past midday. We went down to the main hall again and bought some sandwiches and a drink at a counter in the corner. As I paid for them I saw that I had hardly any money left. Since we left home I had not dared to go to a bank. While we ate I forced myself once more to consider our situation and make plans
On the credit side was the fact that we appeared to be, at least temporarily, out of the reach of the KBG. But how long could that last? I had no means of knowing how the battle was going but if General Gray’s men were driven back we could soon find ourselves in the middle of it. On the other hand, we had to stay in Hereford until Simon was well enough to leave hospital. Even if I had wanted to get back to the farm it would have been impossible without Hal and the car. But if we were to stay, where could we find accommodation and how was I going to pay for it?
I remembered how General Gray had shaken my hand at the end of our interview in Ross and told me to come back to him if I decided not to go on to Dolgelly after all. Circumstances had changed somewhat since then but I had a feeli
ng that the offer of help had been genuine. I rose to my feet. I had trusted my instinct once or twice before and it had not let me down. I resolved to follow it on this occasion.
At the Town Hall I asked to see the general with a good deal more confidence than I felt, implying a rather closer personal acquaintanceship than I could have justified if challenged. After some consultation by telephone we were shown up to a large, sunny room with a number of desks and tables occupied by half a dozen officers of various ages and ranks.
One of them came forward. “Mrs Fairing? My name is Wilcox. Will you come and sit over here, please.”
He took me to a chair by one of the desks and sat behind it. I was uneasily aware that the other men in the room had stopped whatever they were doing and were listening. I wondered why they should be so interested.
“You say you are a friend of General Gray’s?”
“Not a friend, really.” My bravado was beginning to evaporate. “I met him once in the Forest of Dean. He told me that if ever I needed help I could come to him.”
The face of the young man behind the desk relaxed a little. “And you need help now?”
“Yes —yes, I do.”
“Well, perhaps I can do something. You must appreciate, the General has a great deal on his mind at the moment. ...”
A door opened behind me and there was a sudden scraping of chairs as all the men in the room stood up. I looked round. The man I remembered from Ross stood for a moment in the doorway of an inner office, looking round the room. Then his eyes alighted on me. He took a step forward, frowning with surprise and the effort of recognition.
I rose.
“It’s Mrs Fairing, isn’t it?”
“Yes. General Gray. . . .?”
He gave me his hand and smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t identify myself last time we met. But I thought you were on your way to Wales —Dolgelly, wasn’t it? What are you doing here?”
I said, “We never got as far as Dolgelly,” and as I said it I was suddenly aware of an almost overwhelming exhaustion.