by Kitty Neale
As though he’d been holding himself together, Tommy seemed to give in when they arrived at Lark Rise and got out of the car. Amy saw that he could barely walk and Jeremy had to hold him up as she unlocked the door to go inside.
‘I’ll get him into bed,’ Jeremy said. ‘You’d better ring the doctor.’
Amy was so glad now that Tommy had insisted on having a telephone installed before they moved in, but then realised that she didn’t have the number. ‘Tommy,’ she said as they were about to go upstairs, ‘who is your doctor?’
‘Dr Trent,’ he gasped.
Amy hadn’t been to the doctor’s for years, but the name sounded vaguely familiar. It might be the same surgery, but as she didn’t know the number she rifled through the directory until she found it. At last she got through, only to be told that Dr Trent was unavailable until Monday; however, at Amy’s insistence that it couldn’t wait till then, she was told that a locum would be sent.
Replacing the receiver, she ran upstairs, embarrassed to see that Tommy was half undressed and perched on the side of the bed. Colour flooded her cheeks and she averted her eyes.
‘Amy, don’t just stand there, give me a hand,’ Jeremy said.
She moved forward, trying to pull herself together. Tommy was her husband now and she had to get used to this, but still her eyes remained averted and fixed on his chest.
‘If I help him to stand up, you can pull up his pyjama bottoms,’ Jeremy said.
‘No, no, I’ll do it,’ Tommy protested, suddenly aware of her embarrassment as he covered himself with his hands.
‘Amy might as well see what she’s going to get,’ Jeremy said, grinning.
‘Shut up,’ Tommy said, though weakly. ‘Amy, we’ll manage. Can … can you get me a glass of water?’
‘I’ll help Jeremy first,’ she said firmly.
It was done swiftly, and then Tommy was in bed. ‘Thanks,’ he gasped.
‘I’ll get you that water,’ Amy said, running back downstairs. She found a glass, and was filling it up when Jeremy came into the kitchen.
‘I think Tom was as embarrassed as you,’ he said, chuckling.
‘It isn’t funny,’ she said testily.
‘No, I suppose not, and it isn’t funny that you won’t be enjoying your wedding night.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh come on, Amy, surely you realise that Tom’s too ill to get it up. Of course, I don’t mind acting as a stand-in.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ she snapped.
‘Oh come on, don’t look at me like that. I’m only joking, but I think I’ll get back to the reception and your lovely friend Carol before you chuck that glass of water at me.’
‘Yes, I think you should,’ Amy said, glad when he left. Jeremy had said he was joking, but there had been something in his eyes that made her shiver. She went back upstairs to Tommy and held the glass to his lips while he drank, pushing Jeremy from her mind as she willed the doctor to arrive.
‘Sorry, Amy, I rui … ruined the wedding.’
‘No you didn’t. We’re married now, and that’s all that matters,’ Amy assured him.
Until now Amy hadn’t mentioned the two people in a car near the registry office. Surely it couldn’t have been them? She tried to conjure up their images again and doubts set in. Amy just couldn’t be sure, and with Tommy so ill at the moment, she decided it was probably better to say nothing for now.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘How is he?’ Phyllis asked, almost staggering inside when Amy opened the door.
‘Mum, you’re drunk.’
‘No, I’m just a bit tipsy,’ she protested. ‘It turned into a bit of a do – and I reckon with all that champagne flowing old frosty knickers got a bit inebriated too. Jeremy took her home about an hour ago.’
‘What about Carol?’
‘Jeremy was pestering her, but I don’t think she was keen on him. I’ve no idea why, he’s a lovely-looking chap, but she made her excuses and left long before us,’ she said, hiccupping. ‘Oops, sorry. I really have had too much to drink.’
‘Yes, I can see that,’ Amy said.
‘It was a good day, and evening, but I’m knackered now. If Rose had her way we’d still be there now, but you still haven’t told me how Tommy is.’
‘The doctor’s been to see him and said it’s bronchitis. He’s asleep now, but that rotten cough keeps waking him up.’
‘What a shame. You’ve missed out on your weekend in Brighton too.’
‘I don’t mind. I just hope that Tommy doesn’t get any worse.’
‘I’m sure he’ll soon be on the mend,’ Phyllis said. ‘Anyway love, it’s gone ten thirty so I’d best be off. Your dad’s had a lot more to drink than me so I’ll have to make sure he made it up to bed. I’m only next door if you need me,’ she said, staggering outside again.
‘Yes, I know,’ Amy said, thinking that her mother would probably fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
After closing the door, Amy went upstairs and undressed quietly. Tommy was still asleep, and after putting on her nightdress she slipped gently in beside him. It felt strange lying in the darkness with someone beside her. She’d never shared her bed with anyone before, and Amy lay stiffly on her back.
As though aware of her presence Tommy stirred and turned on his side to put an arm around her. ‘Amy?’
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I was just dozing,’ he said, running a caressing hand over her body.
Amy responded, nervous yet strangely excited too as his hand slipped under her nightie to touch her in places she had never been touched before. ‘Oh … Tommy.’
Abruptly it stopped as he began to cough again and was left fighting for breath as he gasped, ‘I … I’m sorry, Amy, can’t … can’t …’
‘Shush, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got the rest of our lives together, so all you’ve got to do now is to get better.’
‘Lo … love you, Amy.’
‘I love you too, now try to sleep.’
It wasn’t long before Tommy was snoring gently, and unable to settle it was nearly midnight when Amy crept downstairs to make herself a cup of cocoa. She was about to go into the kitchen when someone tapped on the front door, and wondering who it could be she cautiously opened it. ‘Jeremy!’
‘I just popped down to see how Tom’s doing,’ he said.
‘Don’t you know what the time is? He’s asleep.’
‘You aren’t, Amy,’ Jeremy said as he pushed his way inside.
‘You’re drunk,’ she said, smelling alcohol on his breath. ‘I think you should leave.’
‘You don’t mean that, Amy,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. ‘It’s you I’ve come to see. I’ve seen the signals, the way you look at me, and you’ll be pleased to know I’m not too drunk.’
‘Get off me,’ Amy cried.
‘Shush, you don’t want to wake Tom,’ he murmured as his hands sought to open her dressing gown.
Amy fought to get out of his arms, opened her mouth to scream, but his hand closed over her lips. What followed was a nightmare, but Amy was powerless against Jeremy’s strength. She was pushed to the floor, and her mind cried against what was happening. She thrashed, but then there was pain, awful pain as he entered her. Amy crumbled, lying beneath him and praying for it to stop. When it did, she was left broken and sobbed, ‘Tommy will kill you.’
‘I don’t think so, Amy. Tom couldn’t kill a fly, and anyway, you aren’t going to tell him.’
‘Ye … yes I am.’
‘How do you think Tom would feel? It would destroy him to find out that his lovely new wife gave herself to his brother on their wedding night.’
‘I … I didn’t. You forced me.’
‘Did I? Are you sure about that?’ Jeremy asked. ‘You didn’t put up that much of a fight; just a token one, and that was the green light for me. Anyway, it would be your word against mine. Think about it, Amy, either way Tom would be left a brok
en man.’
Amy scrambled to her feet, feeling sore and bruised as she backed away from Jeremy, but he smiled sardonically and said, ‘Oh come on, don’t pretend you’re scared of me.’
‘Amy … Amy.’
Hearing his voice coming from the bedroom, Amy cried, ‘That’s Tommy.’
‘Take my advice. Keep your mouth shut,’ Jeremy said as he headed for the stairs.
Amy hesitated, but went upstairs too, standing in the doorway as Jeremy switched on the light and said, ‘Hello, Tom. I was on my way home and saw a light on downstairs. I was a bit worried so I knocked on the door to ask Amy if there’s a problem.’
Tommy blinked against the sudden glare of light and croaked, ‘Chest bad, hurts.’
‘Yes, you don’t look too good. Try to get some sleep and I’ll call in again tomorrow.’
As Tom’s eyes closed, Jeremy moved away from the bed, while Amy stepped hastily to one side. ‘Get out!’ she hissed.
Jeremy gave that sardonic smile again, but then he left. Amy stayed where she was until she heard the front door close, then flew downstairs and locked it, putting the bolt across the top too.
A sob escaped Amy’s lips. She felt so filthy, so soiled that she scrubbed herself in the bathroom, until at last, spent, she slipped into bed again. What followed was a night of broken sleep, Tommy coughing and Amy reliving the horror of what had happened. Guilt swamped her mind. Jeremy had said she didn’t put up much of a fight, and it was true, she had given in.
Tommy mumbled in his sleep and turned over, his arm curling round her waist. Amy tensed and almost threw it off, but then, instead, tears came, rolling unchecked down her cheeks. Amy knew then that she couldn’t tell Tommy – she was too ashamed to tell anyone, and in the early hours of the morning she finally cried herself to sleep.
Jeremy had slunk home, cursing himself. He’d been mad, out of his mind, but he couldn’t blame it on drink. He’d wanted Amy, and had allowed lust to overrule his common sense. If Amy opened her mouth, everything would be ruined. There’d be no shares in the business and no chance of gaining eventual control. For a moment of madness, he’d lose everything.
Amy had to keep her mouth shut – she just had to, and he hoped he’d said enough to convince her of that. Jeremy tossed and turned in bed, fearing what the next day would bring, but finally fell asleep, to be woken on Sunday morning by his mother’s voice.
‘Jeremy, I’m going to see Thomas.’
‘What time is it?’ he asked, feeling muzzy headed.
‘It’s just after eight o’clock.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit too early to disturb them?’ he protested, blinking against the light as his mother drew the curtains.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ Celia said. ‘I’ll see you when I come back.’
Jeremy’s head cleared and as his mother left the room, he groaned. He dreaded what the morning might bring. Had Amy told Tom? He’d find out one way or the other when his mother returned – and now the wait seemed interminable.
Amy woke with a start to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. She sat up, looked at Tommy and almost cried out with anxiety. He was asleep, but looked so ill. As the thumps on the door grew louder Amy jumped out of bed and, throwing on her dressing gown, ran downstairs.
‘It’s about time,’ Celia said, glaring at her. ‘How is Thomas?’
‘He … he looks awful.’
‘I’ll go up to see him,’ Celia said.
From that moment Celia took over and Amy felt useless as she watched her mother-in-law placing pillows behind Tommy’s back to prop him up, but also felt grateful that she was there. As he woke and began coughing, Celia was there to help him to bring up mucus, and after giving him his inhaler, Tommy began to breathe a little easier.
‘Amy, what did the doctor leave for him?’ Celia barked.
‘Some tablets, antibiotics I think, they’re on the bedside table, and a prescription for more, but the chemist won’t be open until tomorrow.’
‘Has Thomas had a tablet this morning?’
‘No … not yet.’
With a tut of impatience, Celia said, ‘Then get him a fresh glass of water.’
Amy ran downstairs again, feeling like an admonished child, but then the memory of last night returned and she knew that her days of innocence were over.
Tommy managed to smile at her when she returned with the water, but it was Celia who was by his side and gave him his pill. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said tiredly.
‘Try to get some sleep. I’ll go now, but I’ll be back soon.’
As Tommy’s eyes closed, Celia stood up quietly to leave, and Amy followed her downstairs where she said to her quietly, ‘Thank you. I wasn’t sure what to do.’
‘That was obvious, and in future see that Thomas remains propped up,’ she said crossly. ‘I’ll be back in an hour, by which time I hope to see you dressed.’
When Celia marched out, Amy ran upstairs, and seeing that Tommy had dozed off she threw some clothes on. Moments later there was another knock on the door and she hurried down again to let her mother in. It was to be the shape of the rest of the day. Rose called in, and Celia came back several times, but one thing helped Amy to cope.
Jeremy stayed away.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Amy rang the shop on Monday to say she couldn’t come to work, and the manageress had been less than pleased. Then, by midweek, Tommy’s condition had gone from bad to worse and when Amy woke on Wednesday morning she was so worried about him that she decided to call the doctor again.
Jeremy had kept away, but when Celia arrived just as Amy went downstairs, he was with her. It all came flooding back and Amy felt sick. She couldn’t bear to look at him and kept her eyes averted.
Obviously unaware of the tension, Celia asked, ‘Is Thomas any better this morning?’
‘No, he … he had a terrible night again, and now he’s got a dreadful pain across his shoulder blades,’ Amy said as they went upstairs.
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Celia said sharply.
Tommy barely focused on them when they went into the bedroom, his eyes feverish, his cough weak and his breathing ragged.
‘Amy, ring the surgery,’ Celia ordered.
‘I was about to when you arrived.’
‘Then do it now. Tell them it can’t wait until Dr Trent does his rounds. Thomas needs to see him now!’
Amy flew downstairs and made the call, afterwards turning to see Jeremy behind her. ‘Go away,’ she hissed.
‘Amy, please, I’ve been going out of my mind. I’m so sorry, I really am. I was drunk, but that’s no excuse and I swear it will never happen again.’
‘Just leave me alone.’
‘I’ll stay away as much as I can, but it will look odd if I don’t call in to see Tommy now and then. I’ve made all sorts of excuses to my mother up till now, but I’ve run out of reasons and as soon as Tommy starts to recover, he’ll want to know that things are running smoothly at the unit.’
‘You can tell him, but don’t come near me again. Ever!’
‘I won’t, I swear,’ Jeremy said, just as his mother came downstairs.
Celia’s eyes narrowed and she looked suspiciously at each of them, but she only asked, ‘Is the doctor on his way?’
‘Yes,’ Amy said abruptly. ‘He should be here soon.’
‘Good, and in the meantime I want a bowl of cool water and a cloth to bathe Thomas.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Amy said. She could see that Celia was annoyed, but didn’t care, only glad to have something to occupy her mind until the doctor arrived.
It was Celia who let the doctor in and after examining Tommy, he said, ‘I’m going to call an ambulance, Mrs Frost. This could be pneumonia and your husband needs to be in hospital.’
Amy’s head spun. Pneumonia – the word striking fear in her heart.
Mabel thought that Edna’s front room looked as untidy as ever, and she was trying to hide her distaste when
a weak cup of tea in a cracked cup was put in front of her.
‘I suppose you’ve seen what’s been going on over there, but have you heard anything?’ Edna asked.
‘Not much, only that Tommy’s got bronchitis.’
‘It’s been like flippin’ Piccadilly Circus with all the comings and goings. First the wedding, and now this. Celia Frost is in Amy’s place every five minutes and when she ain’t there, it’s Phyllis. Of course it’s all gone quiet since that ambulance turned up and took Tommy away.’
‘Did you see him?’ Mabel asked. ‘You’re opposite and get a better view.’
‘I saw him when he was carried out, and if you ask me he was close to death.’
‘Oh no,’ Mabel said, aghast.
‘Yeah, well, he’s always been a weakling. Now the older brother, he’s a bit of all right and I wouldn’t say no,’ Edna said.
Mabel let that pass, her thoughts elsewhere as she said, ‘Poor Amy, she must be worried sick.’
‘She chose the wrong brother, that’s for sure, and now it looks like she’s going to be a very young widow.’
‘Oh, Edna, don’t say that,’ Mabel cried, feeling a surge of disgust. A bit of gossip was one thing, but Edna seemed to be relishing the thought of the pain and suffering Tommy’s death would bring.
‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ Edna asked. ‘I’m only speaking the truth.’
Those words echoed in Mabel’s mind and she felt sick inside. She was as bad as Edna. She relished gossip, had spread it, and enjoyed other people’s suffering. She was as nasty-minded as Edna, but this time they were talking about Amy, a girl she had watched grow up into a lovely, sweet young woman.
Amy didn’t deserve to suffer and there was nothing to relish in the thought. There was only a feeling of sorrow. Mabel knew what it was to grieve and had let it turn her into a twisted, bitter old woman. Now though she felt a deep need to help – but Mabel knew that after all she’d said, done, and caused, any support or sympathy she offered Amy would be spurned.