“Get that boy up, Elsie,” he yelled back up.
“I’ll go and check on him.”
Jamie was much worse, much hotter to the touch. He opened his eyes, but didn’t seem to know her and he’d developed a deep racking cough that heaved his chest like an earthquake. She went downstairs. She had to get help.
“He’s much worse, Tom, he needs the doctor.”
“I told you, woman, no doctor. Don’t you dare! Understand?”
“Yes, Tom.” Must get him help.
“Damned useless little runt.”
As soon as Tom left she telephoned Dr. Gibson. He was with a patient in the surgery, but his wife promised to give him the message.
Elsie sat at the kitchen table, terrified for Jamie, for herself. She’d have to leave now. She paced a bit, sat a bit to ease the knots in her stomach, went up to check on Jamie—who couldn’t stop coughing and couldn’t talk—paced a bit, sat a bit, and jumped when Dr. Gibson put his head around the door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Lake, lad not feeling well?”
“I think he’s really ill, Doctor. Could you come up?”
Dr. Gibson couldn’t take Jamie’s temperature with all the coughing, but listened to his chest and shook his head.
“Double pneumonia, I’m afraid. I’ll have to take him to hospital. How long has he been ill?”
Elsie took a deep breath. “He’s been poorly for a couple of days. Then he fell in some cold water and took a turn for the worse.”
Dr. Gibson stood over her. “Fell into cold water? The pond?”
“Not exactly.” She looked him in the eyes. “Actually, he fell in a manure pile. Tom cleaned him off with the hose.” He looked at her over his glasses, closing his bottom lip over the top one. There, she’d said it; she wasn’t going to cover for him anymore.
“Can you help me get him downstairs? Or do you want to get your husband?”
“Oh, God, no!” said Elsie. “He’ll kill me for this. He told me not to call you.”
“Mrs. Lake, this boy is seriously ill; he could die. How could Mr. Lake not want him taken care of?”
Elsie sat on the bed, sniffling now, and told him the whole story—the other boys’ treatment, and now Jamie’s. Dr. Gibson was appalled and concerned for her and Pamela.
“Has he ever hit you, Mrs. Lake? Forgive me, but I feel I must ask.”
“Yes, but just a slap, really.” She saw him shake his head and sigh. Even a slap would be unthinkable to a man like Dr. Gibson.
“What about Pamela?” he asked.
“Oh, he adores Pamela, she’ll be fine. But these boys? He hates them. And me, too.”
“Would you like to come into town with me, Mrs. Lake?”
“No, I’d better wait and tell him. Then I’ll probably go to my parents. They’re in Lymington, you know. I’ll call a taxi when I’m ready to leave.” If he lets me leave. But I’m not the sort of woman who just runs away like a scared rabbit. But that’s just what you are, Elsie Lake, nothing but a scared rabbit.
“Well, better get this boy in, let’s get the blanket around him. Perhaps he can support his own weight a little.”
They struggled down the stairs with their burden and got Jamie into the back of the car. He was quiet now, not coughing so much.
“Sure you won’t come with me?”
“I’ll be all right, please don’t worry yourself.” He would worry, of course.
“You realize I have to tell the authorities about this?”
“Yes, I suppose you do.”
Elsie spent the rest of the day in a sweaty state of tension, trying to build up her courage for the inevitable showdown. Tom came in for lunch and didn’t ask about Jamie, so she kept quiet. Pamela didn’t talk to her at tea and didn’t look at her, either.
At supper Tom said, “Where is he?” Elsie told him. He put his knife and fork down very carefully. Pamela watched them, her expression alternating between anxiety and anticipation.
“You went against my instructions. You went against me.”
“He was very ill, Tom. The doctor said he might die.”
“And good riddance.”
“Don’t you think there would have been trouble if he died and we did nothing? Like before?”
“Are you saying that was my fault?”
“Yes, Tom. It was your fault. It’s all your fault. You are cruel and abusive to those boys, and to me, too, for that matter. And I’m going to tell the authorities not to send you any more of them. Tomorrow, I’m going to stay with my parents. Pamela can manage the house for a while. You can get a woman in to clean and cook.” She couldn’t look at Tom or Pamela, couldn’t lift her gaze from her plate.
Tom jumped up, crashing his chair to the ground. Too numb to move, Elsie watched him, outside herself somehow, resigned to the crushing blow he wanted to deliver. But he turned and left without a word.
Elsie looked around the kitchen. She’d cooked her last meal in this cold, hard room. No more wiping down the dark-green tiles, no more scrubbing Tom’s scuff marks off the floor, and no more heating water for scouring pots and pans. She would leave this lot piled in the sink. Kitchens ought to be cheerful, the heart of the house. She’d like a pretty kitchen. Perhaps some day, in another place, another life. She jumped when Pamela’s voice pierced her thoughts.
“How could you do that to Dad? Look how you’ve gone and upset him! And all for the sake of that horrid boy.” Horrid girl.
“Pamela, he would have died if I hadn’t got him to hospital. He may still die.”
“I hope he does. And what about me? You’re going to leave your own daughter?”
“You don’t need me, Pamela, you don’t even like me. And, you know, you’re not a very nice person to be around.” There, she’d said it.
“I knew it, you hate me! I hate you!”
“Go to your room, Pamela.”
Elsie had just turned on the radio in the half-dark living room when Tom came in. The BBC always aired Big Ben chiming nine o’clock before the news started, and the last clang still reverberated. Even in the gloom she could see his eyes were red and wild as if he’d been drinking.
“So, you’re going to tell people.”
“Yes, they have to be told.” She didn’t mention she’d told the doctor everything already, and he seemed to have forgotten the land girl.
“Do you know what I’ve been doing, Elsie?”
“No, Tom. What?”
“I’ve been out in Old Ring Copse digging a great big hole. For you.”
So this was it. Elsie closed her eyes and sought an image of Gerald’s face. She would think of nothing but her dear boy. Please, God, take care of Gerald. Jamie was safe now; she’d done one thing right. This was it. She’d tried.
Get a backbone, Elsie; you found it once today. Think of Gerald.
Tom went out to the kitchen and Elsie went to the hall telephone. She’d called the taxi service after lunch, but they were out of petrol. Said they’d come if they could get their hands on any. She’d call Dr. Gibson. What was Tom doing in the kitchen?
“Operator, would you connect me with Dr. Gibson, please. It’s urgent.”
A hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Hang up.”
6
Good morning, Reggie. How are you?”
“Morning, Audrey. Busy, busy. The patients never stop coming,” said Reggie Coleman.
“I don’t know how you do it, Reggie. Still short-handed?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t see that improving in the near future. Could do with a few more nurses, and volunteers, too. What about that daughter of yours? Still loafing about?”
“Rosie only took a few months off after finishing school, you know. She asked me to tell you she’d come in tomorrow morning and help with the patients. She’s a little nervous about how she’ll manage seeing anything grisly. And, I must say, she’s a little afraid of you, too. Says you remind her of her headmistress. That woman could turn anyone’s insides to jelly, even mine.”
“I know, Reggie. You haven’t changed. When we were in the sixth form, most of the juniors were afraid of you. Did you realize that? All that ‘get on with it’ attitude can be intimidating. Especially to people who are more inclined to let things slide. It even took me a while to see that big heart!”
“Oh, put a sock in it, Audrey, you sound like a penny dreadful. Go and visit the patients. There’s one in particular I want you to see today. Jamie’s a mildly mentally retarded boy. Most people would just call him slow. Brighter than some I’ve seen. Getting over pneumonia. Grandmother and house gone in the blitz.” Reggie told Audrey the story. “He’s a nice boy, mannerly … Well, I must get on.”
“Oh, is he the one they wrote about in the paper?” Reggie nodded and grunted. “Poor boy. Yes, I’ll certainly visit him.”
* * *
The farmer’s cruelty depressed Audrey. The newspaper article had told of other mistreated evacuees. Pure evil. Most of the children had been sent back home a few months into the “phony war” as they called it, when nothing much was happening, and a lot of them had been caught in the blitz—many had died. Now they were being sent back to the countryside in droves and there weren’t enough people organized yet to oversee their welfare. Sitting ducks for monsters like that farmer Tom.
Audrey greeted the sour staff nurse and asked for Jamie Jenkins. She followed the starchy back down the row of white-clad beds to the end, where a scrawny boy sat up with the sheet pulled up under his chin. His haggard face looked hunted.
“This is Lady Audrey McInnis. She’s going to visit you for a little while, so mind your manners,” Nurse Dawley said through barely opened teeth before sweeping off to find someone else to bully.
Jamie goggled at Audrey. He looked scared stiff, poor child.
“Good morning, Jamie,” she said with a smile.
“Good morning, miss. What must I call you?” He’d started to rock back and forth a little. That wretched nurse frightened him.
“You can call me Lady Audrey, Jamie,” she said, disquieted. Was he going to have some sort of a fit?
“I’ve never heard of anyone called Lady before.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s not a name, Jamie, it’s a title. Like mister, or miss.”
“Oh.”
God, hope he doesn’t think I’m laughing at him. Perhaps these people were sensitive. It was so hard to know the right things to say to a boy like this.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve still got a cough. I get tired a lot. But I’m all right.”
Brave boy. “I’m glad to hear it, Jamie. You’ve had a difficult time. Matron told me the farmer where you lived wasn’t very kind to you.”
“No, he wasn’t. He cleaned the animal stuff off me with cold water out of doors. It made me ill. He hit me a lot. He hit Mrs. Lake, too. I saw. Round the face.”
He panted heavily now, and rocked faster. Try to calm him down, mustn’t have a scene.
“Oh, Jamie, I am very sorry. There are bad people in this world, but most of us are quite nice, you know.” Audrey found herself breathing harder, too.
“My Gran warned me about bad people. About not talking to them because they get you in trouble. But the only bad person I knew before was Roy. I don’t know many people, so it’s hard to tell.”
That sounded coherent. “Who is Roy?”
“My cousin. My Gran said he’s no good. He lives with us. He went out the night we were bl-itzed. Never came back. He locked us in. And I always say blitz properly now.”
Jamie began to cough. Audrey looked around and caught Nurse Dawley’s venomous look from her desk at the end of the ward. Never mind, she wouldn’t dare reprimand her. Should she pat the boy’s back, maybe put her hand on his shoulder? What if he hates being touched? She herself didn’t like strangers touching her, after all. Time to go.
“Enough talking for you today, Jamie. You learned to say a lot of things properly, good for you. I’m going to ask my daughter, Rosamund, to visit you tomorrow. What can she bring you? Anything you like. If she can, that is.”
“I love chocolate. And comics.” The rocking had slowed.
“I think we can manage comics. I’m not sure about the chocolate, but I’ll see what I can do. Goodbye, Jamie. I’ll be back, I promise.”
“Thank you very much, Lady, er …”
“Audrey.”
One of his hands ventured out of the sheet and gave a little wave. She smiled and waved back. He wasn’t so bad.
Audrey made her way back up the row, visiting each patient. She asked after their progress, their families, their pets, and let them know someone took an interest in them. There was only one soldier this week, hospitalized after yet another operation to put a shattered leg to rights. He appeared down in the dumps and clearly in a great deal of pain.
“Good morning, Corporal.”
“Morning, Lady Audrey.”
“Does your leg still hurt a lot?”
“Yeah, it’s a b … er … well, it’s bad.”
“I’m so sorry. You’re a very brave man, like all our soldiers.”
He smiled half-heartedly, as if tired of playing the part. “I’d just feel better if Sylvia came to sit with me sometimes. She came the first night and said she wouldn’t be coming much. Has to work so hard on the farm she just falls into bed after supper. But she’s my wife, she ought to make the effort.” Oh, God, another precarious encounter.
“You sound angry, Corporal. I’m sure Sylvia’s doing the best she can. I’ll have a word. Perhaps I can arrange a lift for her.”
“Thank you, Lady Audrey. You’re very kind.” He looked happier now.
The young man’s misery saddened her. She knew Sylvia, who used to work in the village bakery until becoming a land girl on a farm outside New Milton. Audrey had gone to a friend’s house for tea the week before, and on the way back she’d spotted Sylvia nuzzling Eric, a young laborer from their own estate, as they went into a pub. Eric had been deferred because of poor eyesight, but the army was getting less fussy as the casualties mounted. Farming was the only thing standing between him and the trenches. So, he thought it was acceptable to take up with an injured soldier’s wife, did he? She’d deal with it. Well, Geoffrey would.
* * *
Audrey picked at her food, unable to shake off her low mood. Geoffrey kept on reading one of his interminable papers, lips pushed out like they always did when he was vexed. He was busy and preoccupied most of the time these days. He had frequent meetings with their region’s chief constable, strangers from London would suddenly appear as weekend guests and spend most of the time in closed meetings in the study, after which Geoffrey often disappeared for a few days. She had learned to keep out of the way and never ask questions. But she felt lonely and cut off, especially from Geoffrey. They lived near the coast, so she had to assume they were making plans in case of invasion. God forbid.
He finally noticed her mood. “What’s the matter, Audrey? I’ve never seen you look so down.”
“The hospital was very depressing today, darling. Did you read about that local farmer who mistreated the young retarded boy? I visited him today. He’s very sweet, talks well, and has lovely manners. He’s had a rotten time of it, and I can’t get over how people can be so cruel. And then there was this young soldier. He’s had another leg operation and he’s in a lot of pain. His wife hasn’t been visiting him, says she’s tired at the end of the day. I know her. Do you remember Sylvia? She used to work in the bakery.”
He looked at her over his glasses, smiling. “Not really, dear. I don’t go in there often.”
God, I never used to prattle like this. “No, silly of me, of course you don’t. I saw her go into a pub with our young Eric last week, and they looked much too friendly. I think you should have a word with him.”
“Disgraceful! I most
certainly will,” Geoffrey said, slamming down his papers. “He’ll put a stop to it at once if he knows which side his bread’s buttered. If I sack him, he’ll be conscripted, and don’t think I won’t do it!”
Geoffrey went back to his reading. She missed him now he was busy with all those secret meetings—war stuff, of course. Poor man. All sorrow and disappointments pushed down so he could keep going without faltering. Their lost little girl, having to keep the family estate going instead of following the scholarly career he’d craved, and now the call of who knew what onerous responsibilities. And he never spoke of his service in the Great War. None of them did. To this day she’d see those few who were left of that generation—Geoffrey, her brothers, cousins, friends—lose track of themselves from time to time, gazing into some grim scene, or perhaps trying to catch a glimpse of a long-gone companion.
Audrey nursed her own sorrow, still mourned her little girl. Geoffrey’s steady presence and attention bolstered her in way that kept her on an even keel. Although pleasant and affectionate when around, he was hardly ever there when she wanted him now. She couldn’t tell him what it was she wanted him there for, because it would sound so feeble. She just wanted him near.
She’d risk another interruption. She cleared her throat.
“Geoffrey.” He looked up enquiringly, didn’t seem annoyed. “That young boy, Jamie. I don’t know what’s to become of him. I suppose he’ll go off to some institution. But I was thinking, darling, let’s have him here for a few weeks while he gets his strength back. He needs some kindness.”
“Well, I don’t know. What’s he like? I mean can he take care of himself? You know what I mean. He’s not given to doing anything, well, odd, is he?” She was amused in spite of herself. He looked as if he’d sucked a salty lemon.
“Oh, I don’t think so. He speaks nicely and seems very civilized. Why don’t we give him a chance?”
“Very well, my dear. I’ll leave it to you.”
Of course he would. “I’ll speak to Reggie, I’m sure she can fix it with whomever is in charge.”
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