Run to Him

by Nadine Dorries

  As they walked past Joe, who had quietly slipped to the end of the table and stood with a large evergreen display of Christmas foliage in his hand, still awaiting instruction from Sister Joyce, Fionnuala whispered, ‘Can you ask the kitchen orderly to bring in a tray and a pot, Joe?’

  Joe nodded and blessed himself with the sign of the cross. Thank the Lord Jack’s parents didn’t see that, Fionnuala thought to herself. As she turned in through the office doorway, her next thought was, I’m coming soon Callum. I’m coming.

  Pulling up chairs to her desk, Sister Joyce asked Jack’s parents to take a seat.

  Fionnuala noticed that their expressions had altered imperceptibly. They now knew something was seriously wrong. Jack’s father appeared to have aged ten years from the moment when she first met them at the end of the hospital corridor.

  ‘Is he being operated on, Sister? Only his workmate, who phoned the shop yesterday, said he had broken a bone.’

  Sister Joyce lifted the heavy black telephone handset and laid it on the office desk. No calls to disturb them, once she began to deliver the very worst news a parent could hear. There was a tap on the office door and through the round porthole glass, Fionnuala saw the orderly, with a tray balanced in her hands. Awkward moments followed, as Fionnuala opened the door and struggled with it, while balancing the tray.

  She attempted to inject brightness into her voice, whilst thoughts of Callum beat against the side of her brain. ‘Can I pour you some tea?’ she asked. ‘Milk, sugar?’

  Neither parent spoke. Both were now frozen with fear. Tongues no longer chattering, eyes no longer darting. Fionnuala loaded the tea with sugar; she knew it would help, if one of them should feel faint once they heard the news. As she handed each of them a cup and saucer, she noticed they were as white as the bed sheets she had changed that morning.

  It was all as bad as she had expected it to be. For Fionnuala, the biggest challenge was not to cry herself. Not to break down with Jack’s parents. Despite every nerve in her body telling her to run to Callum, she resigned herself to remaining in the office with Sister Joyce and, for a few moments, she forgot about Callum altogether, as she remembered how the night nurse told them Jack had cried like a babby for his mammy and how his mammy would never know that. They couldn’t tell her. What use would that information be, other than to shatter her heart into even more pieces?

  Fionnuala wanted to tell his mother that she had said a prayer for Jack and that it had been she, herself, who had laid him out and that she had opened the windows to let his spirit escape to heaven. She desperately wanted to say to them, ‘He was just a gorgeous looking young boy, with film star eyes and you must have been very proud,’ but that would let them know she had been with him at the very end and maybe that wasn’t any help at all.

  Sister Joyce stepped in and banished any concern she had. ‘It may help you to know that Nurse Kennedy here did all she could to save him. The nurses and doctors worked very hard and did all that was in their power.’

  Both parents turned to look at her.

  ‘Did he ask for me, Nurse?’ Jack’s mother’s eyes were swamped with tears, but they were still fixed on Fionnuala.

  She took a breath, do I tell her the truth? ‘He did, he asked for you all the time.’

  ‘Oh, God in heaven,’ Jack’s mother sobbed out loud and Jack’s father put his arms around her shoulders. His face was set. Only the muscle in his neck, which twitched repeatedly, betrayed the extent of his self-control.

  ‘Was he in pain?’ The inevitable, excruciating next question. They asked the same questions, every single parent. What shall I say? Do I lie to her?

  Fionnuala took another deep breath and told a lie. It was one she would take to confession with little conscience and a guarantee of absolution.

  ‘Well now, I think he may have had a little pain when he first arrived but sure, he had so many pain killers in him, he didn’t feel a thing. He really didn’t, of that I’m absolutely sure.’

  Jack’s mother sobbed again. ‘Thank you, Nurse,’ she said, through her tears. ‘Thank you for trying to save him. I know you did your best.’

  That was the hardest moment for Fionnuala, as her own tears pricked the back of her eyes. Thoughts of Callum, lying in casualty, flooded her brain, screaming at her, urging her to run to him.

  She looked up at Sister Joyce who saw them and, without understanding what was wrong with Fionnuala, stood up from her chair.

  It’s time for you to go, Nurse Kennedy,’ she said. ‘Could you send Nurse Jones in, on your way out?’

  Relief washed over Fionnuala, as she sprang to her feet. I’m coming, Callum.

  ‘Where is my son?’ Jack’s mother reached her hands behind her neck and undid the clasp on the gold crucifix, hanging around her neck.

  ‘He’s in the mortuary, until you can let us know the arrangements you wish to make. Will you want to bury him here, or in Dublin?’ Sister Joyce spoke very softly.

  ‘Bury him in Dublin.’ They were firm words from his father, addressed to Jack’s mother alone.

  But she was looking at Fionnuala. ‘Could you take this for me, Nurse, and put it around his neck, please?’

  Fionnuala looked down at the gold cross and chain and didn’t move. She looked at the parents and then at Sister Joyce, who took her hesitation as waiting for permission.

  The mortuary building was on the outside of the hospital, as far away from casualty as it was possible to be. Oh, God, no, Callum.

  ‘That will be fine, Nurse Kennedy. Would you like to take someone with you?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Fionnuala replied.

  She didn’t want to have to explain to anyone else what was wrong; this was a job she would have to finish alone. She reached out and gently took the cross and chain.

  ‘I will do it right now. I shall tell him it’s from you and that you came for him. He will be wearing it when he reaches you in Dublin. I’ll send Nurse Jones in, Sister.’ And with that, she bent down and squeezed the hands of Jack’s parents.

  *

  Fionnuala didn’t care who saw her or shouted at her for running through the hospital grounds. She was on the outside. No possibility here of bumping into a patient on a trolley, but even as she thought that, she knew the sight of a nurse in uniform in full flight was unseemly. But for the first time, she didn’t care.

  As she reached the doors of the mortuary, she slowed down.

  Lordy, it looks creepy in there, she thought, as she stood at the door. If Callum hadn’t been in casualty with a policeman standing over him, she might have waited and found someone else to walk in with her and keep her company. As it was, she was fighting the clock and without knowing it, had only minutes left.

  She spoke out loud to boost her courage, as she walked in through the door. To fill the eerie silence with noise. ‘Hello everyone, ’tis only me come to find Jack.’ As she opened the door, she realized she had no idea which fridge he was in.

  ‘Where are you Jack?’ Fionnuala almost shouted. Using her brain, she went to the last fridge, with a label on the door nearest the entrance and, with dismay, noticed it wasn’t Jack’s name. ‘God in heaven, another one today,’ she said, as she blessed herself and made the sign of the cross. It was only on the fifth fridge that she found his name: JACK DONNELLY.

  Fionnuala took a deep breath. ‘I am scared stiff here, everyone, but I know none of you are going to hurt me now are you, here goes…’

  Within seconds, she had placed the cross and chain around Jack’s neck, kissed her fingers and laid them briefly against his cold cheek. Then she was out of the mortuary and running towards casualty, her basket banging against her legs. As she reached the doors, the first sight that greeted her was that of two large policemen, standing at the entrance. One had his helmet laid on the bench next to him and the other was fastening the strap of his own, as if he were about to leave.

  ‘Fionnuala.’ She heard Helen loudly and urgently whisper her name. ‘Over here.’
>
  Looking up, Fionnuala shot Helen a grateful look and walked as quickly as she could towards the drawn curtains. There were people everywhere. Walking wounded, hospital staff and newly arrived visitors wanting to take their loved ones home. A cameraman had arrived outside, as had a news reporter, who was walking around with a pad and pencil, trying to persuade people to talk to him. A tram leaving the rails was big news, on a day when normally nothing else occurred.

  As Fionnuala pulled back the curtains, the anger in her heart instantly melted. Callum had his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest, as though he was praying.

  ‘Callum,’ Fionnuala whispered, as she placed her hand on top of his.

  His eyes sprang open. ‘Fionnuala,’ he almost shouted. ‘Oh, thank God, I thought I wouldn’t see ye before they took me.’

  ‘Who is taking you, where? What happened Callum? You promised me, promised me, you did, why did you take a car? What have you done?’

  It was now impossible for Fionnuala to hold the tears back, and they poured down her cheeks.

  ‘I just wanted to meet ye at the hospital and give ye a ride home. I wasn’t going to keep the car, Fionnuala, I just thought you deserved better than the bus on Christmas Day, and we could have a bit of time together, just an hour, the two of us. I missed ye.’ He grabbed hold of her hand and his eyes pleaded with her.

  Through her sobs, she asked him, ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘God, no, there’s people here much worse off than me. The tram came off the rails, did ye know that? On Christmas Day, an all. I was just knocked out for a minute. I wish to God I hadn’t been, but when I saw all those people struggling, when I came round, I couldn’t run, could I? If I had, I would have been off in a flash and back home long ago, but I just couldn’t, Fionnuala. The luck of the Irish wasn’t with me today.’

  Callum gave her a cheeky grin and Fionnuala threw herself across him, with no regard whatsoever for anyone who might see her.

  With his arms around her, he whispered into her hair, ‘They will take me, and I’ll be up before the magistrate tomorrow. He may send me straight down, I was caught red-handed, the fella had already stopped the same policeman who caught me and told him his car was missing. I have no chance. Will ye wait for me to come out?’ Callum pushed Fionnuala away and, holding her shoulders, looked her straight in the eye. ‘Will ye promise to wait for me? Will ye, Fionnuala?’

  She couldn’t speak. Almost broken and drained, she felt incapable of considering anything, but she did know she loved him and if she had to wait for him, she would do it. There was no time to answer, because the policeman Fionnuala had seen fastening the strap under his helmet, walked around the curtains. He gave her a sympathetic look.

  ‘Ah, so, you must be the nurse he wanted to impress with someone else’s car, then?’

  Fionnuala, covered in shame, looked at the floor and a sudden anger at Callum arrived, apparently from nowhere.

  ‘How could you?’ She looked at Callum and saw the pain cross his eyes.

  ‘How could you do this to me and put us in this position?’

  ‘I just wanted the best for ye, Fionnuala. Sure, everyone calls you the angel of the streets, I wanted to bring the angel home on Christmas night in a fancy car, I wouldn’t have kept it, ye know that.’

  She did know it. Callum had done the same thing once before, with equally disastrous consequences.

  ‘You promised me, Callum. You said the stars were your witness and you promised me.’

  ‘I have been an idiot and I’m about to pay for it. I will have to live without you for the best part of two years.’

  Fionnuala gasped. ‘Is that right?’ She looked at the policeman. She could tell he pitied her.

  His answer was gentle. ‘I’m guessing so. It’s Christmas and as we haven’t had to nick him for the past few months, he could plead he was turning over a new leaf. Who knows, if the magistrate has had a good Christmas, he may be lenient, it could be less.’

  The curtains opened and Helen joined them. ‘Are you still in one piece, Callum? I thought Fionnuala would have beaten the living daylights out of you by now.’

  ‘She almost has,’ said Callum, with a rueful smile.

  Fionnuala’s anger dissipated as rapidly as it had arrived. She had seen a sixteen-year-old boy die this morning and had held his mother’s hand as her world broke in half. She realized she needed to keep a perspective on things.

  Callum held out his hand and, slowly, Fionnuala took it.

  ‘I’m going to wait outside, lad,’ said the policeman. ‘I’ll trust both of you nurses to bring him out in a minute.’

  ‘You can trust us,’ said Helen, winking at the policeman.

  For a split second, Fionnuala forgot what was happening to her. ‘God, you are outrageous,’ she said.

  Helen grinned. ‘I know I am.’ She turned to Callum. ‘Come on then, Callum, I am officially the one looking after you and handing you over. I’ll pop outside. Say goodbye, you two lovebirds.’

  Once again, Fionnuala and Callum were alone.

  ‘Will you still tell your da about us?’ Callum looked sheepish.

  Fionnuala had no need to even think about her answer. ‘I will, later. Tonight when they are all in bed, I will talk to my da.’

  For the first time, Callum looked as though he were about to cry. ‘This is the last time, Fionnuala, I swear. Having to leave you is killing me.’

  She couldn’t reply. The tears ran down her cheeks. It was killing her too.

  *

  He had been standing at the bus stop for an hour. Fred had wanted to meet Fionnuala tonight and walk back home with her. He had thought that the best way to talk to her was when they were alone and, as the house was always busy, he would never find a minute there in the midst of the bedlam known as their kitchen. If anyone went into the parlour, seven pairs of small ears were glued to the door. No, there was definitely no such thing as a secret on Waterloo Street. What Fred had to say was for Fionnuala’s ears only. He had almost broached the subject with her this morning, but had decided against it, just in case his words didn’t come out right. After all, he didn’t want to spoil her Christmas Day, or make it unnecessarily stressful for her. No, he was right to have left it until now.

  He would tell her tonight that he and Maggie knew all about Callum and he would say, why didn’t she run around to Nelson Street and fetch him home, to have a bit of supper with them all?

  Callum was the son of a man who had been his friend on the docks. A man he had walked to and from work with, every day for years. A man he had watched hit by a flying rope on the end of a crane and killed instantly, with his own eyes. Callum was the son of his late friend and, a thief or not, Fred would not dishonour the memory of his friend in that way. Callum would be welcome in his house and if necessary, Fred would steer Callum onto a straight and narrow path and get him taken on down at the docks, into his own gang where he could keep an eye on him, because that’s what Callum’s own da would have done.

  As Fred squinted down the road, he saw the lights of the bus rise over the brow; he heard the squelch of the tyres against the slush and snow and his heart beat a little faster, just as it always did when he was about to see one of his daughters, after a day apart.

  *

  Callum sat next to Fionnuala on the bus. His arm was around her shoulders and they hugged each other tightly, both dumbfounded at the turn of events.

  The policeman had been using the police phone at the hospital entrance as they walked up to him. Fionnuala, struggling, but managing to hold her distress and tears in check and Callum, walking with shoulders bent, tormented with remorse at what he had done. As Callum began to speak, the policeman held up his hand, indicating that Callum should wait a moment.

  ‘Aye, Sarge, well, there’s no problem my end. I’m sure he will be mighty delighted now… Yes, indeed. Thank you, Sarge.’

  The policeman put the telephone down and grinned. ‘Well, ’tis true, people do go soft at Chris
tmas. The man whose car it was has rung the station and when he heard that you were hurt, and could have run away but chose to stay and help the people on the tram, he dropped the charges. He thinks you suffered enough, spending Christmas Day on casualty, being checked out. You are free to go, lad.’

  At that point, Fionnuala felt faint with gratitude.

  *

  They had lit the fire in the parlour and were all gathered around. Fionnuala and Callum were sitting, like a king and queen, in the middle of the sofa, and the seven girls were grouped around on the floor. They both had trays on their laps filled with a Christmas dinner, which they were tucking into, while the girls giggled and plied Callum with questions. Fred had sent around for Annie O’Prey to join them, to hear the news herself, from Fionnuala and Callum. Fred didn’t want to hurt Annie’s feelings by letting her think he had been the first to guess, little knowing that Annie had guessed long ago, on the night she passed by the top of the entry and glimpsed her son and Fionnuala enjoying their first kiss.

  The room was filled with a glow from the fireside and the Christmas tree lights. Maggie, sitting on her hard-backed chair, next to the fire, was as happy and content as a mother could be. She slowly took her airmail letter, from her sister in Australia, out of her pocket and, looking down at the familiar writing on the envelope and the pencilled sketch by her sister of a holly leaf in the corner, felt a tear prickle her eye. Immediately she felt her husband’s hand give her shoulder the gentlest squeeze.

  Once Annie had arrived, toothless and grinning through the door, Fred filled their glasses with Christmas sherry.

  As he gave Fionnuala hers, he said to the room at large, ‘Well, Fionnuala, I bet that was your quietest day at work this year.’

  ‘Oh my giddy aunt,’ said Fionnuala. ‘If only you knew.’ And she grinned, as Callum sheepishly took her hand.

  ‘Show time,’ shouted Mary, demanding everyone’s attention as she and her sisters jumped to their feet. Then, holding the cover of the Bobby Vee record out in front of them, so that they could read the words, seven little girls sang to Fred.