Bill Bailey
Page 24
He now pulled her round to him, his nose almost touching hers. He said, ‘I’m serious.’
‘You are?’ There was amazement in her voice.
‘Yes. She told me openly that he’s just a kind of manager like he was in the brewery, as Sir Kingdom said. She’s the power behind the scenes; she’s the queen all right in that set-up. He isn’t even a regent or consort; he’s been a despised individual right from the beginnin’. And you know I can understand the man now and, as I told her, I told her to her face, I feel sorry for him. And you know what else I told her, Mrs Bailey?’
‘No, Bill. What did you tell her?’ Her voice was quiet.
‘I told her that I had found a nugget, that’s the word I used, and I was quick to detect imitations or something like that, and that if she was the last woman on God’s earth I wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole. Now those are the very words I did use. I said straight to her face, I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole.’
‘Oh, Bill, you didn’t.’
‘I did, woman, I did.’
There was a puzzled note in her voice now as she said, ‘But that’s only the third time you’ve seen her, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, only the third time.’
‘And you were struck with her at first, weren’t you?’
‘Struck? No, woman, not struck in that way. I saw that she was class. And I remember pointing out to you that you had stepped down to take me but she had dropped a great deal further to take him. But now I take all that back, for what I saw the other day was a cold, ruthless, vindictive bitch. And I take back an’ all what I said about him, because I do pity him. She must have treated him like a serf. And no wonder the lad has turned out to be like he is. So there you have it, Mrs B. Which one am I going to take after your demise?’
‘Bill, don’t look like that. I’m sorry, but I…I love…I love you so much, and I can’t bear to think of you being lonely, because the children won’t fill your life.’
‘I’m not going to be lonely; you’re going to have the operation and, no matter what it is, you’re going to get over it. Even if you have to go through hell and high water, you’re going to get over it. D’you hear me?’
‘Yes, Bill.’
‘Now go to sleep. Come on, snuggle up and go to sleep. Because this has got to last me for a week or ten days, for that’s all you’ll be there.’
‘Put out the light, dear,’ she said. And he put out the light.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She was in at eleven o’clock, and he stayed with her till three, then returned home, promising to bring the children.
When he entered the house it was Mamie who came running towards him, sobbing, ‘Mammy B’s gone on holiday.’
He picked her up, saying, ‘No, no, she hasn’t gone on holiday. She’s got a pain in her tummy and the doctor’s going to put it right.’
Both he and Fiona had decided that in the future the child must be told the truth, at least as near as possible. This business about her mother and father and brother going on holiday meant that they were never coming back. Although she never now mentioned her parents or brother the fear of loss through the word ‘holiday’ had seemingly taken a permanent place in her mind.
‘Look, I’ve just come from your Mammy B, and I’m going to take you and Mark and Katie and Willie to see her, as soon as I have some tea. You’ll let me have some tea, won’t you?’
‘Yes, Uncle Bill. And we’re going to see Mammy B?’
‘Sure, sure as life, cross my heart.’ He didn’t add, ‘Hope to die.’
Nell, coming from the kitchen, said, ‘All settled in?’
‘Yes, Nell, and very calm and composed.’
‘Good. What time are we going?’
‘Well, as I’ve just said to this one here’—he humped Mamie further up into his arms—‘I’d like some tea; I’ve never had a bite since this morning.’
‘No lunch?’
He smiled now, saying, ‘No. And the meal they brought her would have satisfied a navvy…She picked over it just to please them. She wanted me to finish it but I told her I wasn’t doing any of her dirty work; if those dishes had gone out empty they’d have wondered why she was in there. Where are the others?’
‘Up in the playroom. They’ve been at sixes and sevens all the time. Open war between Katie and Willie. I’ve suggested that they all write letters to their mother and give them to her when they go in.’
‘Good idea.’
He put the child down on the floor now, and tapped her bottom, saying, ‘Go upstairs and tell the others they’ve got to be ready by five o’clock.’
In the kitchen Nell said, ‘I’ve got a combination of hash-cum-shepherd’s pie in the oven. Would you like that or some cold bits?’
‘I think I’ll have the hash. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to come with them and bring them back. I’ll order a taxi; they’ll enjoy the change.’
‘I don’t think they’d enjoy the Royal Coach today.’
‘No, perhaps you’re right.’ He went and stood by the stove and, leaning his elbow against the wall, he rested his head on his hand as he said, ‘What am I going to do, Nell?’
‘Well, like they say on the old flicks, keep a stiff upper lip.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘I know you are.’
‘If anything happens to her I’ll go mad.’
‘No, you won’t. You’ll face up to it; you have four bairns to look after.’
‘Damn the bairns! Damn everything! Why should this happen?’
‘Don’t you bawl at me, Bill; I’m not Fiona.’
‘Oh, Nell, I’m sorry, but you know what I mean.’
‘I know what you mean, and I know how you feel, and I know how I feel at this minute. I want to sit down and howl my eyes out. Since you left the house this morning I don’t know how I’ve kept a dry face, because, let me tell you, it’s only her friendship that’s kept me going over the past months. If I’d been on my own I know I would have taken a short cut out, because when you feel less than dust there’s not much lower you can go. In a way I love her as much as you do. And you know something? I’m going to tell you this, likely she’s put it to you too. She’s got it all planned out if anything should happen to her that I’ll see to the bairns. Well, I’ll promise to do that at least for a time, but as regards seeing to you, that’s a different kettle of fish, because Bill, I couldn’t put up with you, not your type of man. And you couldn’t put up with me, ’cos I’m not your type of woman. So, whatever she said to you, you can make your mind at rest, there’ll be no pressure from this end.’
His body suddenly began to shake. He turned his face to the wall and bumped his brow twice against it. Then, turning and looking at her, his eyes moist, he said, ‘Aw, Nell, that’s done me the world of good. Yes, she had it all planned out on my side an’ all. Anyway, now we know where we stand give me that stew-cum-shepherd’s pie. Oh, now look, don’t start cryin’, ’cos I might be tempted to comfort you again. And what would happen if the two moles appeared at the door? Fiona would never believe it the second time.’
They were both laughing now, and Nell said, ‘When she comes out and I describe these last few minutes to her she’ll die.’
The last two words brought them to silence until Nell had placed a steaming plate before him, and then she said, ‘The English language has got all twisted up, hasn’t it?’
‘It has, Nell, it has.’
The night staff had taken over before he left the room. They held each other closely and the last words he said to her were, ‘See you tomorrow about three.’
‘Yes, dear, see you tomorrow about three. I love you, Bill.’
‘I’m quite fond of you an’ all, Mrs B.’ He went out quietly, and she lay staring up at the shaded light above her head. And when the night nurse came in and said, ‘Would you like something to make you sleep?’ her reply was eager: ‘Oh, yes please, yes…’
When Bill reached home he saw there was a light still on in the kitchen but not in the sitting room, so instead of letting himself in the front door he went in the back. And on entering he was surprised to see Bert Ormesby standing at one side of the table and Nell at the other. And Bert began straightaway in a slight fluster, ‘I…I just dropped in to see how…how the missis was and everything like.’
‘Oh, thanks, Bert. Sit down then, sit down.’
‘No, I was just about to be off.’
‘How was she when you left?’ This was from Nell. And he answered her, saying, ‘Apparently calm, you know, on top.’
‘What time will it happen tomorrow?’
He looked at Bert again, saying, ‘She goes down at half-past nine and it all depends on how long she’ll be there as to when she comes round. Would you like a drink?’
‘No thanks, boss.’
‘Oh, aye, I forgot, man.’ He smiled weakly. ‘I don’t know where I am.’
Bill took off his outdoor things, and they all stood in awkward silence for a moment until Bert said, ‘Well, I’ll be off then.’ And he nodded at Bill. ‘Don’t worry about things back there on the site; I’ll pop in now and again over the holiday. Goodnight then. Goodnight Mrs’—he paused on the name—‘Paget’ and Nell said, ‘Goodnight Mr Ormesby.’
At the door Bill suddenly said, ‘There was no car outside. Did you walk?’
‘Oh aye; it’s only a couple of miles. I often have a brisk walk at night; it helps me to sleep. Goodnight then.’
‘Goodnight Bert.’
He closed the door and looked at Nell who was coming in from the hall shrugging her arms into her coat, and he said offhandedly, ‘Very nice of him, don’t you think?’
‘Yes. He seems a good fellow, thoughtful.’
‘Yes; yes, he is, he’s a good bloke.’ Then with a quirk to his lips he added, ‘He wouldn’t bawl at you.’
‘Bill.’
‘Aye, Nell; there’s many a true word spoke in a joke, they say.’
‘Well I don’t think this is the time for jokes.’
‘Don’t put me in me place, Nell, unless you want me to bawl.’
‘I’m sorry, Bill; we’re both on edge…I’ll be off. Try to get some sleep. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Nell.’
He now went into the sitting room and to the drinks cabinet and poured himself out a stiff glass of whisky. But he didn’t drink it there, he carried it up to the bedroom, laid it on the side table, got undressed, then he went out of the room and, gently opening Mark’s and Katie’s bedroom doors, he glanced in. The night light in Katie’s room showed the two girls fast asleep. But in Mark’s room, although his bed was illuminated only by the light from the landing, he had the suspicion that the boy, although snuggled down under the clothes, was far from asleep. He did not investigate further, however, he just gently closed the door, then went back to his own room; but before getting into bed he threw off the whisky at one go. It was now eleven o’clock.
At half-past one he was sitting wide-eyed propped up against the headboard. The whisky had had no soporific effect on him whatever, apparently just the opposite, for he had never felt more wide awake nor his head more clear. Nor could he remember thinking along the lines on which his thoughts had travelled over the past two hours or so. When had he ever before felt emotion the like of which was filling him at this time? And he questioned it.
Before he had met up with Fiona his life had seemed free and easy. He couldn’t recall any real worries except those connected with the job, and then they weren’t in the same league as the worries that were besetting him at the present time. And all this had come about through falling in love. And what was love after all? Some people wrote songs about it; others wrote poetry extolling it; books by the million were written about it; films were made about it. But from whatever quarter it came, as he saw it now, it was wrongly represented. Because what did it consist of? What was it made up of? Anxiety. Worry. Pain. Fear. Dread. Yes, dread. Dread of losing all that anxiety, worry, pain, and fear. For what would his life be like without it?
He wished he could go back to just before the time he first saw Fiona in the newsagent’s shop. He did. He did…No, he didn’t. He’d have to stop thinking along these lines or he’d go round the bend. He’d go down and have another drink. No, he wouldn’t. He put his hand out and gently switched on the radio. There was always somebody talking in the middle of the night. But what he heard now was someone singing in low deep melancholy tones. The voice appeared for the moment to be his own as it sang:
Do not go. Do not go, my love, from me,
For no blankets can warm my frozen heart.
Do not go. Do not go, my love, from me,
For the years ahead are stark.
He almost brought the radio from the side table, so quick did his hand switch it off. Then with a heave he slid down the bed, turned on his side, pulled the clothes almost over his head and growled, ‘Go to sleep. God damn you! go to sleep.’
He had been waiting in the hospital from eleven o’clock, but it was half-past twelve before she was wheeled out of the operating room. It was twenty minutes later when he confronted Mr Morgan and the surgeon told him the result of the operation…
He had sat for hours by her side, during which time the nurses had popped into the room and popped out again. At one point the sister came and said, ‘Would you mind waiting outside?’
When he stood outside the door he was amazed to hear the sister saying, ‘Come along, Mrs Bailey, come along. That’s a good girl.’ He heard a groan and a sound of vomiting. He closed his eyes tightly but did not move away from the door.
When eventually the sister and the nurse appeared, the sister smiled at him and said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have a long wait. We’ve made her comfortable, but she’ll sleep for some time yet.’
‘I won’t be in the way if I sit with her?’
‘No, no; not at all, Mr Bailey. But it could be some hours yet before she revives completely. Then, I must warn you, she’ll be in some pain. You could go home and get some rest and I’m sure in the morning she’ll be…’
‘If it’s all the same to you I’d rather stay.’
It was near eleven o’clock. The whole ward was quiet: there was no rattle of crockery from the kitchen, no buzzing up and down the corridor. He was sitting in an armchair near the bedhead. He had closed his eyes and when his head nodded forward he realised he had almost fallen asleep. He yawned and turned his head and looked towards the figure in the bed. Her eyes were open. She was staring at him. The jerk he gave not only pushed the armchair back and caused it to squeak on the wooden floor, but his hands on the side of the mattress bounced it gently, and the movement caused Fiona to close her eyes.
‘Love.’ He was bending over her. ‘It’s adhesions.’
‘What?’
‘It’s all right. It’s only adhesions.’
‘What…what d’you mean, adhesions?’
‘That’s what the mass was, the dark mass, nothing else, just a bundle of adhesions sticking your guts together.’
‘Oh Bill. Bill.’ She screwed her eyes up tight, opened her mouth wide, then again muttered, ‘Oh Bill. Bill…Adhesions?’
‘Aye. That’s what it’s all about. Never heard the word afore, but it sounds wonderful. How’re you feelin’, love?’
She looked at him tenderly. A smile spread across her face, then she answered simply, ‘All cut up.’
He put his hand across his mouth to still the sound and stood away from the bed so his shaking body wouldn’t again disturb the mattress.
When the spasm passed he sat looking down at her. His face was almost solemn now. This is what love was about too: besides the anxiety, the worry, the pain, and the fear there was relief, and joy, and hope. But by God! he wouldn’t like to go through these past few days again
. And what he said now was characteristic of the Bill she knew.
‘You’ve got no idea what I’ve been through these last few days, lass, so never do this to me again. I couldn’t stand it. My God! no!’ Then he was a little surprised to see her hands hovering over the counterpane above where her stomach was. And her face was almost contorted when she said, ‘Bill. Oh please Bill, don’t make me laugh, it’s, it’s painful.’
For the first time he really couldn’t see that he had said anything funny. In fact, he had been very serious, very serious indeed: there was nothing funny about what he had gone through, but he had to concede that Fiona’s sense of humour was at times a little off-key, especially as now when she was getting over the effects of anaesthetic, and this was proved when next she said ‘Oh Bill Bailey, you are funny. One day you’ll be the death of me…Oh! Oh!’
‘Don’t, love. Don’t; you’ll snap your stitches.’
The End