Trixie shook her head as if unable to understand clearly. ‘Does Mum know that Cilla’s still in hospital?’ she asked in a bewildered voice.
‘No, I don’t think so; not yet, because your mum hasn’t regained consciousness,’ Ella told her gently.
‘I must go to Cilla.’ Trixie pulled herself out of the chair. ‘Ivy, can you help me into my coat, please.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, luv,’ Ella protested. ‘You’re still very weak, you know. If you go out in this weather then you may get a chill and then what good will you be to help look after them both when they come home?’
Trixie stared at her as if she didn’t understand what she was talking about.
‘My mum’s right, Trixie. I’ll stay here with you till your dad gets home, unless you want to come back to our place.’
‘I must stay here; they might bring Cilla back and I’ll be the one who’ll have to look after her till Mum is better.’
‘No, luv, they won’t be bringing her back tonight,’ Ella said shaking her head, ‘so why don’t you come with us?’
‘No, they won’t, will they?’ Trixie admitted in a tiny voice. Suddenly her face crumpled and her whole body shook as she gave way to great gulping sobs.
Jake gathered her into his arms, holding her close and stroking her hair and murmuring words of comfort, his own eyes bright with tears as he tried to console her.
Ella, Ivy and Jake were all still there when Sam Jackson returned. One look at his ashen face conveyed all they needed to know even before he told them that Maggie was so seriously injured that it might be weeks before she was well enough to come home. He made no mention at all of Cilla till they questioned him about her.
‘Cuts and bruises that’s all,’ he said dismissively. ‘They said she can come home tomorrow.’
Ivy wanted to stay on but Trixie sensed that her father wanted to be on his own and she could understand this so she assured them that she could manage well enough.
‘I’ll look in and see how you both are in the morning,’ Ella promised after she’d made a fresh pot of tea for Trixie and Sam. ‘Make out a list if there is anything you need and I’ll get it for you while I’m doing my own shopping.’
When they’d gone, Trixie poured out the tea and tried to persuade her father to have something to eat but he shook his head and said he had no appetite.
‘Your mother’s in a pretty bad way,’ he said in a low voice as he sat staring into the fire. ‘Never seen her like that before. She opened her eyes but she didn’t know me; she kept asking for you and Cilla.’
Trixie leaned forward and stretched out a hand towards him. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘Nothing to tell her. I left it for the nurses to talk to her and tell her whatever they felt she should know.’
‘Poor little Cilla, she’s probably bewildered and unhappy being with so many strangers,’ Trixie said dejectedly. ‘I hope they will let her come home tomorrow.’
‘She’s been trouble since the day she was born,’ her father said bitterly, running his hand through his hair. ‘Why the hell did your mum have to be the one so badly hurt? It wouldn’t have mattered so much if it had been Cilla,’ he added callously.
‘It’s not been her fault,’ Trixie defended. ‘And she is improving. She’s started to learn her letters and she can count.’
‘She’ll never be normal,’ he said disparagingly. ‘She’ll be a burden to someone for the rest of her days.’
‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’ Trixie bristled.
‘It’s the bloody truth! Time you faced up to things as well. You’re going to have to from now on, because the doctors say your mother’s not going to be much good for months to come so you’ll have to care for both of them. Your mother’s going to need a lot of looking after, make no mistake about that.’
‘She is going to get better in time, though?’
‘You’ll find that out when she comes home,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going for a pint,’ he added getting up and reaching for his cap.
‘You can’t do that, Dad!’ Trixie gasped. ‘What on earth will people think? Your child and your wife both lying in hospital and you’re out boozing.’
‘Don’t you try and tell me what I can and can’t do, my girl,’ he told her, his eyes blazing. ‘I said I was going for a pint, not a bloody bevvy, but if I decide to have a skinful when I get there then that’s what I’ll do. You get yourself off to bed and I’ll see you in the morning.’
Trixie did go to bed but she couldn’t sleep. She felt weak and despondent and she would have given anything to have her mother there fussing over her. Or even to have Cilla there in bed beside her with her little arms hugging her tight; to have Cilla kissing her and telling her how much she loved her.
Her pillow was wet with tears by the time she finally fell asleep and then she was wakened abruptly by the sound of her father coming home. He’d obviously had far more than a pint. He was stumbling around, and cursing under his breath as he bumped into the furniture.
She lay perfectly still, wondering if she ought to get up and make sure that he was all right, but common sense warned her that if he’d had a skinful then he would probably be in an aggressive mood. If that was the case, then if she said a word out of place he would as likely as not hit out at her and she didn’t feel strong enough to stand up to one of his backhanders.
She now felt really tired and as he stopped lumbering about and she heard the bedsprings in the next room groan under his weight, she knew he had managed to make it on to the bed. With a sigh of relief she relaxed and drifted off to sleep, lulled by his rhythmic snores.
When she woke next morning she lay for a while thinking back over the events of the previous few days and wondering what was going to happen next.
Cilla and her mother being in hospital made her own accident seem less important, even though she knew it was bound to bring about big changes in her life.
The only good thing she could see coming out of all this was that since her mother was going to need nursing there would be no question of her having to return to Fred Linacre’s place.
How long her dad would let her stay at home and take care of things with him having to pay for everything out of his wages remained to be seen. Sooner or later he was going to insist that she found herself another job. This time, though, she’d try and make sure that it was something she wanted to do. Never again would she let him browbeat her into working for someone like Fred Linacre or into having to live away from home.
She also thought about Andrew. He really must like her to come and visit her in hospital, she thought, dreamily. She would never forget the wonderful grapes he’d brought or the way he’d sat there and fed them to her.
Jake had been kind as well, of course, but it was Andrew she was attracted to and wanted as a boyfriend. She liked Jake a great deal; not only because he was Ivy’s brother but also because he had proved to be such a wonderful friend. She always felt so comfortable with him and never felt shy with him or that she had to try and impress him; in fact, he was the sort of brother she would have liked to have had.
Her feelings for Andrew were on a very different level, probably because he was so very different from anyone else she knew. He was always so well groomed and smartly dressed, always so polite and he spoke so nicely.
Trixie couldn’t understand why Ivy didn’t seem to be all that impressed by Andrew. Occasionally she even pulled a face or made some joke or other about his impeccable appearance and polished manners. That was probably because he’d been Jake’s friend since schooldays and so they had almost grown up together, she decided.
She didn’t think her dad had taken to him either, but then they’d all been in a bit of a state because of Cilla being missing
With a sigh, she flung back the bedcovers and eased herself out of bed. Her throat was still hurting and she still felt weak, but she knew she had too many problems ahead to indulge in self-pity. For a start, she must get to the
hospital to visit her mum, if they would let her, and then collect Cilla and bring her home.
She hoped her dad would come with her because she wasn’t sure if she could manage it all on her own. She’d have to take the pram because Cilla would be too weak to walk, and since she couldn’t take the big pram on the tram then it would mean pushing it all the way there and back.
If only she could persuade her dad to carry Cilla then they could go by tram, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t agree to do that.
The only other way was to ask Ella or Ivy if they would come with her and then they could take the pushchair and that would be a great deal easier to manage than the big pram, but she wondered if they would want to do that because she knew her mum’s accident had upset them both and stirred up old memories.
Chapter Twenty-One
Trixie decided in the end that she would call round to the O’Malleys to ask them if she could borrow the pushchair, and was very relieved when Jake offered to go along to the hospital with her to help bring Cilla home.
Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that it was Jake and not Andrew who was accompanying her.
Cilla held out her arms to Trixie and their tears mingled as they hugged and kissed. The nurse assured her that apart from a few bruises and minor cuts Cilla was completely unhurt and Trixie was pleased that she looked so well and seemed not only to have accepted her stay in hospital quite happily, but also to have forgotten that they’d been parted for quite a while.
She’d brought some clean clothes for Cilla and as soon as she was dressed Jake picked her up ready to leave and she gave him a big kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘I shouldn’t talk to her about what happened,’ the nurse advised as they left the ward. ‘I think she has already forgotten about it. The only people she has asked for have been you, Trixie, and someone called Bonzo.’
‘That’s her favourite toy.’ Trixie smiled. ‘She usually takes it everywhere with her, even to bed. It’s surprising that she wasn’t carrying it when she ran out of the house.’
They went back to the O’Malleys’ house where Ella and Ivy had a special meal of all Cilla’s favourite treats waiting for her and then Jake carried her back to Virgil Street.
Sam Jackson was out so Jake waited till Trixie had settled Cilla into bed. Worn out by all the events of the day, she was fast asleep in minutes.
‘It’s been an upsetting time for her,’ Trixie murmured as they tiptoed out of the room. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she invited.
‘Only if you go and sit down and let me make it; it’s been a trying time for you as well and you’re still recovering yourself.’
Cilla was more than content when she found that Trixie was going to be at home with her all the time. Trixie tried to make the most of their time together by sitting down with her after breakfast each morning and helping her to read and write, and because there was no other distraction she made incredible progress.
Achievement also seemed to give Cilla confidence in other ways. Under Trixie’s patient guidance she at last managed to wash and dress herself. They were both delighted about this and Trixie even encouraged her to help around the place by doing some dusting, laying the table and other easy chores.
When they went to the shops in Scotland Road or Great Homer Street Trixie encouraged her to walk rather than taking her in the pram. Once again, the results surprised Ella and Ivy; they could hardly believe how much progress Cilla had made when Trixie took her round to see them or left her there while she went to visit her mother in hospital.
Maggie was in hospital for three weeks and when they eventually discharged her she looked gaunt and weary. They warned Trixie that she would be extremely weak for quite a while and would need a great deal of bed rest.
‘I think it might be better if I slept with Mum,’ Trixie told her father. ‘She’s bound to need attention during the night for a while and she’ll probably be very restless and you need a good night’s sleep.’
‘Since I’m the only bugger working I’ll probably be so dog tired that I won’t notice if she’s restless or not,’ he grumbled, but he agreed to swap beds with Trixie nevertheless.
It was two months before Maggie felt well enough to try doing things around the home and then it was only small tasks that didn’t take too much effort. Often she gave up after a few minutes and sat down, rocking backwards and forwards with the tears running down her cheeks because she felt too exhausted to carry on.
Trixie watched over her like a mother hen. She made sure she had light, tempting food to try and build up her strength. She worried if she became overtired and was constantly warning her not to lift things or to stand for too long.
‘If you do, then you’ll have another restless night because you’ll be in pain again and then I won’t get any sleep either,’ Trixie would scold but with a smile on her face that softened her words.
Maggie would nod submissively and obediently sit down, but often there was such a look of frustration in her eyes that Trixie wished she’d said nothing.
Sam hated everything to do with Maggie’s illness. He came home, ate his meal, and then went off out again as speedily as possible. When Trixie remonstrated with him for wasting money on drink when they needed it to buy nourishing food for her mother he often turned on her and told her to mind her own business and that it was time she found herself a job because he was fed up of keeping her in idleness.
Whenever this happened and Maggie overheard him saying it she would always brush it to one side.
‘Take no notice of him, luv, he doesn’t really mean it. He knows he couldn’t do one half of the things that you do for me. What’s more, you’re looking after Cilla as well as me and she can be quite a handful. Mind you, she does seem to be taking more notice of what’s said to her these days and she’s better behaved than she’s ever been and seldom has any of her tantrums.’
‘Cilla is making tremendous progress,’ Trixie agreed. ‘Ella and Ivy have noticed it too. She can read and write now and has even learned her tables, well up to the five times table, anyway. She really seems to enjoy helping me to do things in the house as well.’
‘Yes, I know, luv. And she’s been a little dear the way she’s fetched and carried for me.’
‘I was thinking that since she’s so much better we might even manage to get her into school,’ Trixie said hopefully.
‘Oh no, she’s not ready for that,’ Maggie protested. ‘She’s still very backward and if you send her to school she’s bound to get teased and bullied.’
This was the least of their problems for the moment; what was far more worrying was making ends meet. Whenever Trixie spoke to her dad about it he only turned the tables by grumbling that he was the only one earning any money and it was time she found a job instead of sitting around at home.
‘You know perfectly well that it’s impossible for me to go out to work and look after Mam and Cilla as well,’ she pointed out.
Sam knew that this was true but he still maintained that he couldn’t afford to give her any more money for housekeeping. ‘You could always get a job in the evenings,’ he told her.
‘If you want me to do that, then you’ll have to stay at home and look after them when you come in from work instead of clearing off out the minute you’ve had your meal.’
He scowled at her but made no response. In desperation Trixie began cutting down on what she served up for his evening meal and this infuriated him.
‘You lot are eating three square meals a day while all I get for slogging my guts out is my dinner when I get in at night and that’s hardly enough to keep a boy let alone a hardworking man,’ he exploded, his face mottled with fury.
‘You have far more to eat than we do,’ Trixie pointed out. ‘We live on a slice of bread and dripping for our midday meal; I pack you sandwiches with either cheese or egg or bully beef in them. You get the biggest plateful at night and it always has most of the meat on it; all Cilla gets
is the gravy and a few vegetables.’
‘That’s all she needs; she doesn’t need feeding up because she doesn’t do anything.’
‘That’s as maybe, but you know perfectly well that you are still not giving me enough to feed us all properly. If you cut back on your fags and boozing then we might be able to manage.’
Sam didn’t answer; He picked up his cap and slammed out of the house. Trixie knew quite well where he was going and she also knew that in all probability he’d come back drunk.
The best thing would be for her mother and Cilla to be safely tucked up in bed before that happened, she decided.
To her surprise he was back within less than an hour. He wasn’t alone. He had a brassy-faced buxom blonde woman of about thirty or thirty-five with him. She was wearing a grey coat that had a fur collar. It was open to show off her low-necked, bright red pleated dress and her silk stockings and high-heeled black shoes.
‘This is Daisy,’ he announced. ‘She’s looking for a room so I’ve told her she can move into our big bedroom so you’d better show it to her, Trixie,’ he ordered.
Trixie stared at him in astonishment. ‘What on earth are you on about, Dad? That bedroom is yours and Mum’s. You’ll be moving back in there again any day soon now that Mum’s so much better.’
‘No.’ Sam shook his head. ‘I’m going to use the small bedroom so you can move Cilla out of there and in with you and your mum. That leaves the big front bedroom empty so we’re letting it out. You’re always saying you need more housekeeping money; well, this is how you can get it.’
‘Are you going to show me this room or shall I go and look for a place somewhere else?’ Daisy rasped. ‘I can rent a room in much better places than Virgil Street and without all this damned arguing. I thought it was all cut and dried, Sam.’
‘It is. I’m the one who says what’s what around here so don’t you worry about it, Daisy. I said you could have a room here and that’s settled,’ he stated forcibly.
‘That’s all very well but by the sound of things your daughter doesn’t want me here, Sam.’
Love Changes Everything Page 18