Wise Child

by Audrey Reimann

  'You make sure she takes her insulin.'

  Isobel felt her mouth starting to pull at the corners as it did when she was trying to appear more confident than she was. She pressed her lips tight. 'And the other sort of coma? You said there were two.'

  'Hypoglycaemic coma results from high insulin levels. It can be lethal if not treated quickly. Sugar has to be ingested at once, to save the patient.'

  This was far worse than Mam made out. Isobel swallowed hard. 'How will I recognise which is which?'

  'Your mother must not be left alone. She must be watched.' He spoke in a serious voice to impress the dangers upon her. 'An insulin-dependent diabetic may have taken too high a dose of insulin, may not have eaten enough, have exercised too much or be suffering from anxiety which depletes the blood sugar rapidly. First she will be combative or disoriented; then she may have a seizure.' He said, 'Shall I continue?'

  Isobel pressed her fIngers tight together. 'Continue. Please.'

  'Blood sugar drops. This can happen in minutes - and the patient falls into what looks like deep sleep. Frequently he can still hear. Hearing is the last sense to go.'

  'And the treatment?'

  'The treatment is to get glucose into the bloodstream, by ingestion. Once the patient is unconscious, ingestion is no longer an option. The patient must be taken to hospital, where glucose will be given directly into the stomach, through a tube.'

  'How do I recognise the difference?' Isobel asked.

  Now at last his expression softened. 'I will give you full instructions.' He paused, then as if on impulse came round to her side of the desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. 'I don't think your mother has anything to worry about. With such a devoted daughter she’ll live to a ripe old age.'

  'I intend that she shall,’ said lsobel. She listened intently and took away booklets and medicine and warnings of what to look out for. Diabetes, the doctor said, made its victims bone weary one minute and full of life the next. This then was why Mam was erratic.

  lsobel threw herself into getting Mam's diabetes under control. Mam didn't want it advertised, she said. People might think it was catching and would stay away from her. So a tray was hidden on an empty shelf in the scullery cupboard. On it was a spirit lamp and test tubes for boiling urine, two syringes, four needles, methylated spirit in a flask containing a ready-primed syringe, gauze and spirit to clean the skin. There was also a collection of phials of insulin with different coloured labels showing the various strengths. lsobel became an expert, and a bossy one, recording dosage and the sugar levels, and every day she saw Mam improving.

  Mr Leigh came round to the house more often than before but there was no mention of wedding plans and lsobel came to hope that Mam was having second thoughts. Her behaviour surely could not all be due to the blood sugar levels. She swung from black moods, when she fumed about everything and could barely speak to Mr Leigh, to being girlish and frivolous, when she'd try to make him unsure of her. She'd say, 'Can't see you tomorrow, Hah'd! Our Lit and I – I mean, our Isobel and I are going to the pictures. I've fallen in love with Fred Astaire.'

  Mr Chancellor came round for the rent one Friday. lsobel had not seen him for months but before she could speak Mam said, 'Hello, stranger!' in a sarcastic voice. 'Avoiding me? I thought you'd passed away.'

  'Don't be like that,' he said. 'I said I'd have to leave it a while.'

  Isobel thought it shocking, what Mam did next. She came to stand in front of Mr Chancellor, close and provocative, and said. 'When are you and Nellie Plant going to tie the knot, then?'

  He gave her a cold, hard look before putting his hand out for the rent money Mam was holding. 'I'll not marry again.'

  Mam handed it over and put her hands on her hips. 'You're only forty-four. No age. Why! You could marry and rear another family.’

  What Marn was saying was suggestive and presumptuous and a hot blush of embarrassment rushed to Isobel's cheeks. How could Marn behave like a low gossip-monger and bear false witness? There was a hostile silence.

  Mr Chancellor looked from Mam to herself and then down at the book. 'I've enough on my plate with the family I've got,' he said. And there was a new, dreadful distance between them all.

  Frank was furious. If he didn't go now he'd lose his temper, strike Elsie or say something he'd regret. He slapped the rent book down on the kitchen table. Then he gave her a look that could turn a gorgon to stone, before giving a painful attempt at a smile in the direction of his sweet, precious daughter.

  He went fast and angrily out of the shop on to Jordangate. The usuals were in the Swan: a butcher and a few taxi drivers. They hailed him, broad smiles on their faces, but Frank ordered a pint of Adshead's and went to sit in the far corner. He wanted to be left alone, to brood about Elsie. How could she? How dared she? Putting him down in front of Our Lil, and weeks since they'd had that big quarrel.

  When she and Lily were on holiday he'd missed them. Then, a couple of days after she got back from Southport, he went round to the shop on Wednesday half-closing day. For two weeks they had been out of his life and he'd done nothing but think about them, missing Lil and hungering for Elsie. It was the first time that Elsie had not been available to him; her first absence since he carne home from the war. And it carne to him, when she was not there, that he needed her.

  Elsie was the biggest part of his life. Always had been. Ray was a trial, a worry, but he was growing up fast. In two or three years' time he would settle down, marry or want to live away from his father. When all risks of Ray and Lily's being thrown together were over, Elsie was the only person he could share his life with. It would even be seen in the town in a year or two as a good thing for a respectable widow to marry a man of substance, a Jean-Pierre. He was on the point of telling her this when he went to the shop in high spirits. If Lily was there he'd enjoy their company for an hour or two and return to Elsie late at night. If Lily was out he'd make love to Elsie. He was as eager as a young blood for an afternoon in bed with his woman.

  Elsie was waiting for him, dressed in red; a closefitting, high-buttoned dress that showed off every curve of her beautiful body. She also had the haughty look on her face that told him she was annoyed about something. He grinned and went to her-with arms wide.

  'Don't touch me!' She backed away, spitting the words.

  'What?' He dropped his arms. 'What have I done?'

  'You dare ask?' The blue eyes flashed. 'You make me sick!'

  He stood still. 'Now then,' he said. 'What is it?'

  'Nellie Plant. That's what. And your son. Nellie Plant's son.'

  'Oh, hell.' He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and thumped down on to it. There was nothing he could do but tell the truth. Elsie stood with her back to the fireplace like a commanding officer, waiting, eyes glinting. He chose his words with Care. 'Listen, Elsie. I made a mistake. Once. And I regretted it as soon as I'd ...' He stopped and looked at her, hoping to see some understanding in her eyes. Seeing only scorn, he looked down at his hands, abjectly. 'I spent a foolish evening drinking with Nellie. I hadn't gone round there with the intention . .. One thing led to another ...'

  'My word! Didn't it lead to something? I'll say it led to something.'

  'I'm sorry. I was sorry then.'

  'Five years ago,' she said. 'That takes us back to when you and I were seeing ...' She gave a contemptuous laugh. 'When we were seeing a lot of one another. You were coming round three nights – Wednesdays and Sundays if Lily was away.' Her eyes were blazing. 'Wasn't I enough for you?'

  He had to be straight. 'I didn't tell you because you'd be upset.'

  'Upset? You thought I'd only be upset?' She waited for a few moments before she reached for a cigarette, struck a match and lit it. Then she sent a stream of smoke out, fast, right in front of his nose. 'I tell you, Frank, I was sick! I saw your signature and hers on that register and I went outside and vomited!'

  'Nellie means nothing to me!' he said. Then because she looked away, 'It only happened once. I
've taken care of them.'

  'Haven't you just?' She came to stand by the table. 'Well, you can start taking care of your first indiscretion, can't you?'

  He could not continue to apologise for something that was over and done with while she refused to show understanding. She had not asked why he'd signed the register for Nellie's child and not for Lily. He'd been in Germany, clearing up the aftermath of a war, when Lily was born. Hadn't she remembered that? The army didn't give compassionate leave to a man whose mistress gave birth. He said, 'If you mean you and our Lil, I do take care of you.' There was an edge to his voice. 'You want for nothing.'

  'We want a lot. The difference this time is we're going to get it.'

  'Get what? What can 1 do?'

  She didn't speak for a moment, but her head went high as she looked down her nose at him. 'You always said you wouldn't stand in my way. Well, I'm going to get married.' She waited a second or two for her words to sink in then, 'Did you hear me? I said I'm getting married to a man who loves me. To Howard.'

  Hot, jealous rage swept through him. He jumped to his feet. 'Willey-Leigh? He'll bleed you white. Then he'll be off, after bigger fIsh. You are not going to marry him.'

  'Oh, but I am. I'm going to have a husband. And a house!'

  'You can have a house any time you want!' His fingernails were sharp as he clenched his fist. 'You don't need to get married to that...' Now, his pride wouldn't let him ask her to wait until the time was right. The mood she was in she'd delight in refusing.

  'Our Lil's going to have a proper father. At last.' She was triumphant.

  'I'm her father.'

  'Prove it!' She tossed back her head, but her eyes never wavered.

  I'll tell her myself,' he snapped back though he knew that he would not. How could he speak up now? It was far too late.

  'Too late,' Elsie said. 'She doesn't want to know. She'd hate you for it. She wants Howard for her father. Howard is going to adopt her. Isobel, by the way. She doesn't like the name Lily. She's already changed that.' She came a step nearer and put her face close to his. 'It's over, Frank. Finished!' Then, because he made no reply, she said, louder, 'Kaput! Ended!'

  He had never seen her like this. 'What can I do?' he asked, as a hot tide of anger rose in him. 'What do you want?'

  'You are not going to get away with it scot-free.'

  He had never before wanted to hit a woman. She continued, her face flushed with vengeance, 'You'll pay for her to go to a good school. St Ursula's in Southport. They only take upper-class girls.'

  'I'd do that anyway.' Jealousy, raw and painful, made him say, 'Does Leigh know she's mine?'

  'Nobody knows the truth except you and me,' she said. 'And I've a mind to tell Isobel that Howard is her real father.'

  He was shaking. 'My God! You are vindictive.'

  She ignored him. 'The money has to be found for the school. Howard's having business troubles at present.'

  'At present?' He gave a cynical laugh. Willey-Leigh had been borrowing through Cheshire Trading for years and still did not know Frank was his creditor. Nobody borrowed from a trading company if he could get a cheaper loan. Cheshire Trading charged ten per cent to high-risk customers like Leigh. Frank now said, 'Come to your senses, woman. Leigh hasn't the means to keep a dog, let alone a wife and family.'

  'Not like you, eh? Keeping three families going and never missing the money. Setting women up in business. Paying for expensive schools ...'

  Frank knew he must wait until Elsie saw through Leigh. There would be no cautioning her now. He said, 'How do you think you'll explain the little matter of school fees to Willey-Leigh? Where will he think the money is coming from?'

  She had the nerve to smile at him. 'I'm going to keep working, though Howard doesn't want me to. He wants to take the shop over.'

  At last, he could retaliate. 'Like hell he will! The shop is my property. Always was. You are the lessee. The lease is not transferable.' He returned her smile, with interest. He had enjoyed saying that.

  Elsie carried on as if he'd never spoken. 'I've no intention of giving my shop up. But it doesn't take as much as people think.'

  He gave a dry laugh. 'No. Willey-Leigh thinks he's marrying into money again. The only attraction for that type is money.' She went on smiling. He repeated, 'What are you asking of me?'

  'You can pay the school fees. I'll tell John Hammond that we've come to an arrangement whereby I pay you more rent so the money's always there for the start of the term.'

  'It's not your bank manager, you'll have to explain to. Stupid woman! I pay many a bill for my tenants under those arrangements. It's your husband who'll be asking the questions.'

  'I'll make it look as if the shop takes more.'

  'False accounting?' He gave a dry laugh.

  'Don't talk daft. I've never had to account for what I do.'

  'Evidently.'

  Now, here in the Swan, he thought it all through again. Elsie was going to go through with this marriage. He'd stayed away, hoping she'd come to her senses. It was William Congreve who wrote, in The Mourning Bride, 'Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned. Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.' Elsie had more fury than hell. She'd refused to listen when he tried to tell her the truth that, though he'd signed the register rather than risk the scandal Nellie had threatened, he didn't believe for a minute that Nellie Plant's child was his.

  He had spent one foolish evening with Nellie, one foolish, drunken night, and even drunk as he was, he thought he had taken the ultimate precaution of coitus interruptus. He'd gone to Nellie, low in spirits, when he thought his drives were fading. Would it be different with someone else? Would it increase his potency? Could he let a woman give him pleasure and relief without him wanting to finish the job?

  All it had done was prove that he and Elsie were a perfect match and that, no, he couldn't let a woman merely give him pleasure and relief. Nellie wouldn't let a chance like that pass her by. She had made a night of it, cooking a meal for him, wine and brandy too, and she had tempted him again and again, made him ready for more and more until he was sick with the food and the wine and sick with disgust at his own body. He signed the birth register under the threat that unless he did, Nellie would tell Sarah. Then, when Sarah died and marriage was not on offer, Nellie made him dance.

  He'd have to see Elsie again and beg her to reconsider this mad idea of marriage. Surely she could see through Willey-Leigh. Leigh was a penniless humbug. He was nothing worse than that, thank God. He'd be a good stepfather to Lily. Elsie wouldn’t consider him otherwise. But as for means - he was a strawman. Then jealous blood rose again as he imagined Elsie in bed with Willey-Leigh. He thought of those sapphire eyes, heavy lidded with desire, the softest skin in the world, the little noises she made… Would she make them for Leigh? He gave an ironic laugh. Elsie would soon find out what she'd married. Willey-Leigh was no use to a woman, Nellie Plant said.

  There was a flurry of dressmaking and packing for a quiet wedding in Grandpa's chapel at the end of November. Isobel wanted to know who was providing what in all these wedding arrangements because Mam, though professing rapture, had been going about with a worried look on her face, talking to Isobel about what Mr Leigh could afford. She had even mentioned mortgages. In Isobel's book the man provided the house and looked after his family, and here was Mam talking about running her shop and taking out a mortgage.

  Isobel pointed out the facts to Mam. Mr Leigh had a house of his own, in Southport. He must sell his house and buy one in Macclesfield, or else they must all go to live in his house in Southport but Mam became exasperated. 'You silly girl. People are losing hundreds of pounds, on houses. It's the wrong time to sell, Howard says.

  But Mam was looking forward to her new standing as a married woman. She said, 'I'll show 'em! A woman needs a man at the back of her.'

  'You've managed without so far,’ Isobel said.

  'That's all in the past. We'll be looked up to when I'm married. We'll be respected, a proper f
amily with a man at the head. You need a good background, too. You'll be taken advantage of without it.’

  ''Taken advantage of? Who would? And how?'

  'You're growing. Soon men will be chasing you,' Mam said.

  'Mam!' !sobel retaliated. 'Don't be disgusting! I'd never ...!'

  'Never do what I did? Is that what you mean?' Isobel blushed, then she saw that Mam had not taken it as a criticism. 'I didn't mean that.'

  'Well, I did,' Mam said. 'It's the old, old story. You'll fall for it as well. It's the easiest thing in the world to fall for the wrong man. You only have a few years for picking and choosing,' Mam spoke in her sharp, don’t-argue-with-me voice. 'A girl's life can be made or broken by the man she marries.'

  'Nowadays girls make their own lives!' lsobel said. 'I'm going to try for law school. Put myself forward for a bursary if we can't afford …’

  Mam wasn't paying attention. She had that eager look about her. 'You must meet the best people. To do that you have to have a good family background or you'll never be invited anywhere.'

  'I meet the best people already,' Isobel protested. 'At Archerfield.'

  'Hah'd doesn't like the Hammonds,' Mam replied sharply. 'He doesn't want you to spend your time with them once he's your father.'

  Isobel was dreading the day Mr Leigh became her stepfather, for he was presuming his future powers, winking at her and standing close, letting his hand linger on her shoulder as if he had rights. This was the moment to put a stop to it, to tell Mam. But how could ruin Mam's happiness? Wouldn't she too be worse off? Should she keep quiet, become adopted and legitimate, with the new name she wanted and the prospect of university? She'd be out of Mr Leigh's way at St Ursula's in Southport.

  *…*…*

  Miss Duffield was a treasure, discreet and loyal, though Elsie knew full well that her sights were set higher than being a counter hand. Miss Duffield wanted to buy the business for her niece. She had said as much, hinting that now Mrs Stanway was going to get married, and it being unusual for a married woman to continue to work, if at any time Mrs Stanway thought of giving up the shop, would she give Miss Duffield first refusal?