Wise Child

by Audrey Reimann

  Frank felt the tears springing behind his eyes when his precious lass came down the platform towards him, her face white with dread. He wanted to protect and console her yet he must appear to be merely a family friend. She put out a hand. 'Were you waiting for me?'

  He held on to her fingers. 'Thank God you're here. I'll drive you up to the Infirmary.'

  'The Infirmary? What happened?' She pulled her hand back. 'How did you know ...?'

  'In a minute.' He took her ticket and handed it to the station master, then placed an arm across her shoulder as they walked to his car. He said quietly, 'I found your mother unconscious in bed this morning.'

  'Why were you at our house?' She shrugged free and he dropped his arm. 'Mam's going to be all right, is she? Where's Nanna?'

  'Your grandparents are with your Mam,' he said. They had reached the car. 'The doctors don't know if she will pull through. She's unconscious.’

  'But how did you know?' She was choking with tears in the privacy of the car. 'What made you go to the house?'

  'I went to the shop. She wasn't there. She's never not there at nine o'clock in the morning.'

  They were passing the shop and he said, 'I knew something was wrong. I can't explain. I went to the telephone box and rang your home. There was no answer. I panicked.'

  lsobel turned to face him. She touched his arm. She was crying hard now. 'Thank God!

  He gave her a wan smile. He dared not touch her again, even to give comfort, though he ached to take her in his arms, cry on her shoulder, unburden himself, tell her all he had found. He could not tell his precious lass that he'd telephoned Elsie from his house to check that the coast was clear and say that be was on his way to her. They had only last week resumed their lovemaking after Isobel's return to school. They had not been able to get enough of one another after the six weeks separation, even though Elsie believed she was committing adultery and that heavenly retribution was impending. This weekend, with Willey-Leigh at home, had seemed like a month to Frank. He had even gone to church on Sunday evening to get a glimpse of her, and seeing her there, standing beside Willey-Leigh, had brought it home to him again that it was he who should be at her side. But their eyes met across the aisle and he knew, as he had always known, that in her heart she was his.

  This morning, when she should have been as eager as he was, Elsie did not answer the phone. And he'd known that something was wrong. He threw himself into the car and drove hell for leather for Bollinbrook Road, panic rising with every turn of the wheels. The house was silent. The back door was locked. He ran to the front, hammered at the door and heard the sound echoing up the hallway. She was in there. He knew it. His hands were weak, nerveless as he picked up an edging stone and smashed it through the coloured glass beside the front door. The glass shattered and he put his hand through the diamond-shaped hole in the leaded pane. He undid the catch, opened the door and tore up the stairs, and for a moment relief flooded through him when he saw her peacefully asleep.

  'Elsie?' He shook her shoulder and instantly his fear returned. There was no resistance in her. She rolled on to her back, her head lolling to the side, yet her breathing was quiet and regular. He ran down the stairs and called his own doctor. Strange that he didn't know which of the town's three doctors Elsie used. But she was as strong as an ox. She was never ill.

  Then he sat holding Elsie's hand for five minutes until Dr Russell arrived. He had to make excuses to the doctor, too, to explain his presence at Elsie's home, just as now he must explain to his precious lass, who was crying beside him as the car nosed through the open iron gates of Macclesfield Infirmary.

  'I called Dr Russell. He's my doctor. We brought her here.' His heart was pounding with fear for Elsie now. The doctor told him that every minute was vital - that Elsie would have been dead in another hour.

  lsobel was trying to control herself before she went inside; her shoulders lifted under lurching sobs. He said quietly, 'Wait here for a minute, lass. Go in when you are ready.' It was agony to him, when he wanted to take the responsibility for both Elsie and lsobel, that he had no right to be at Elsie's side when she most needed him.

  Isobel stopped weeping. She put her head up and squared her shoulders. 'Where's my stepfather? Have you told him'!'

  'I don't know. He wasn't there. He must have left for work.' How could he say more? He said, 'Does he know that your mother is diabetic?'

  'He knows.' She pressed her lips tight.

  Had he gone too far? Did his precious lass see his questioning as interference in their private lives?

  She said, 'We've been taught what to do in an emergency.' She turned her big grey eyes on to him and said in an icy voice, 'How did you know? Mam kept it secret from everyone but the family.'

  Was she telling him not to overstep the boundaries? 'Dr Russell told me. Your mother is in a hypoglycaemic coma. She must have given herself a dose of insulin when she needed sugar.'

  'My stepfather must be found.'

  'I'll take care of it, lass.' Frank would go to the police and tell them to find Willey-Leigh.

  'Why are you doing so much?' she asked. 'It really isn’t your .. .'

  'My business?' He touched her arm tenderly. 'I'm your mother's best friend. Remember that.'

  'I didn't mean to be rude. I'm ready to go in. Thank you, Mr Chancellor. You are very kind.'

  He said, 'I'll go and tell Miss Duffield. Telephone if you need me.'

  Mam was in a small side ward. The window curtains were drawn and Isobel's heart skipped a beat. Grandpa, old and worn, was at the far side of the room with Nanna, watching the elderly doctor who stood at the foot of the· bed; ponderous, eyes fixed on what looked like a little doll. For a moment Isobel thought there must be a mistake, then, as she came a step closer, a great lump lodged in her throat and sobs came jerking through her chest as she saw that it was Mam. It was Mam as Isobel had never before seen her. Mam's eyes were closed and the once-heavy lids were thin and stretched tight over sunken eyes in deep, dark sockets. Her right arm was outstretched and splinted with a needle contraption attached to a rubber tube with a bottle suspended above. Mam's nose was pinched and high-bridged and the mouth that could curl at the corners in merriment or scorn was straight and flat. Isobel raised tearful eyes to Nanna. Mama took a deep, noisy breath, then fell silent again.

  A quivering-jelly sensation was in Isobel's stomach as the doctor gave details. 'Blood and urine have been tested. Glucose and insulin are now in balance. Your mother is not responding. Unless she shows any vital signs.'

  Isobel interrupted in a broken voice, 'Which vital signs?'

  'Any. If she opened her eyes, if she could co-operate and was holding on to life we could pass a tube into her stomach to feed her.' The doctor said, 'We have reported the matter to the police.'

  'Police?' Grandpa sat down quickly on the edge of the bed. 'Surely you don't suspect ...?'

  'I do not believe that a diabetic patient would make such a mistake. She would not inject a high dose of insulin when she needed glucose. Her husband must give an explanation.' Then he said gently, to all of them, ‘I’m afraid it is too late to hope for a recovery.'

  Grandpa's face went grey as he sagged against Nanna, saying softly, 'It's no use. My poor lass.'

  Isobel took Mam's little ice-cold hand in hers. 'Mam ... . Mam ... Don't die, Mam ... Please don't die.'

  There was no response. She put Mam's hand close to her own cheek to warm it, then held it loose and placed her index finger in Mam's palm. The doctor had told her once that hearing was the last thing to go. 'Mam ... if you can hear me, squeeze my finger.' There was nothing.

  'She can hear,' Isobel whispered. 'But how can she let me know?' She couldn't let Mam die without everything being tried. She turned to the doctor. 'Why can't you feed her into her stomach?'

  'Your mother cannot swallow the tube, my deaf. It's as simple as that. The tube would pass into her lungs. Pneumonia would follow.'

  'If I can get Mam to swallow the tube ..?r />
  The doctor brought his hands up, opened his fingers and shrugged. 'If you can get a response, I will try.'

  'Help me prop her up; Isobel pleaded, and when they had Mam lifted high she placed pillows behind Mam's shoulders and took her hand again. 'Mam. It’s me. it's lsobel. Can you bear me?' There was no movement.

  What was it she had read, in the Darwin and Freud books? Humans had no instincts left - only learned behaviour and reflexes. Then what was the first reflex? Which reflex followed the in-drawing of a baby's first breath? It came to her. 'Mam… If you can't move your hands .. If you can't open your eyes ... Can you suck? Can you put your tongue out?'

  Isobel watched, holding her breath, until at last a muscle moved under Mam's bottom lip. Then slowly, so painfully slowly that tears coursed down Isobel's cheeks, she saw Mam's mouth begin to open and the tip of a pink, wet tongue push through.

  At once the doctor left the room and returned with a nurse, who wheeled a trolley loaded down with fearsome equipment: rubber tubes and syringes, glycerine for lubrication, funnels and huge white enamel jugs and vomit bowls. He said to lsobel, 'You won't want to watch this. There is no guarantee that she will come round. But now she has a chance.'

  The doctor said gently to Grandpa, 'Please I must ask you to leave.' Grandpa was ashen-faced and had to be helped to his feet by Nanna who took his arm and led him out of the room. Isobel looked at the doctor, who nodded to her to indicate that she must follow. Shaking like a straw, Isobel went out of the room.

  Nanna and Grandpa were a long way ahead. Grandpa's walk was slow and unsure. Nanna supported him but she appeared to be flagging. Isobel stood in the tiled corridor outside the ward, watching Nanna and Grandpa go, whilst she herself was rooted to the spot with dread as she heard Mam gurgling like a drain and the hollow noise of her retching as the tube was passed into her stomach. A ward sister came to her. Nobody was to return until the visiting hour at six. No exceptions were made to this hospital rule. If Mam took a turn for the worse, the sister would telephone Isobel at the house. She touched Isobel’s hand and told her to take heart. Mam was still alive.

  Nanna and Grandpa had gone now, and Isobel walked home in fear, desperate to wake up and find that it was all a horrible nightmare. But everything was normal. The September sun beamed down, warm and golden on the leaves at her feet as she went home to Bollinbrook Road. People stopped her in the street to say, 'I'm sorry to hear about your mother, love. If there's anything I can do ...' It had only happened a few hours ago and they were talking about it already. But it was a comfort, seeing how many people wanted to show their affection for Mam. Isobel answered, like a repeated prayer, 'Mam's going to get better. I don't mind how long it takes.’

  It was two o'clock. Wearily she went upstairs to change out of her school clothes, but before she could do this, a postman came to the door, asking her to sign for three registered letters. And because she'd signed for them, she opened them. The first was a final demand notice for a £15 rates bill. If it were not paid within ten days their goods would be distrained. The second was a demand notice from the coal merchant: a year's bills totalling £5.17.11 was outstanding. The third was from the building society to say that unless the sum of £16 was deposited before the end of the month, the whole outstanding mortgage would fall due.

  Isobel sat down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. Where was her stepfather? Surely he would come home at once, explain what had happened this morning, take charge, shoulder his responsibilities. How could one family be struck by two disasters in a single day?

  The telephone rang. Isobel jumped at the sound and dashed to the hall to answer it, heart hammering in her tight, painful chest. Was it the Infirmary? Her stepfather? she picked up the receiver and gulping back her tears said, 'Hello ...'

  Mr Hammond's voice came hesitant, soothing. '!sobel? Please sit down. Prepare yourself for bad news. Your grandfather collapsed and died half an hour ago. It was a heart attack. He would have known nothing. It happened in seconds. I am so very sorry, my dear.'

  *…*…*

  Mam alternated between a diabetic state and hypoglycaemia from day to day; coming out of it for brief periods, disoriented. The doctors warned that she must be treated gently and not told about Grandpa's death yet. So lsobel had to stand in for Mam at Grandpa's funeral.

  Grandpa was buried at ten o'clock on Thursday in the churchyard in Bollington. There was not room in the sunlit graveyard for all the mourners. They crowded between the gravestones and stood on the pavement beyond the stone walls. They came in droves; the chapel congregation, friends, acquaintances, the doctor, Macclesfield's shopkeepers and traders, the Grimshaws and Doreen, the Hammond family and Mr Chancellor. Throughout the service in Grandpa's chapel, Mr Chancellor used a large white handkerchief, holding it to his face. His eyes were red and puffy. Mr Hammond's eyes were bright with tears. Mrs Hammond was stony. Magnus - poor Magnus on two sticks and Sylvia stood, pale and shocked. Mr and Mrs Grimshaw were sad and silent, Doreen dabbed at her eyes with her left hand where she wore a diamond ring.

  Isobel's stepfather kept looking at his watch. He had been questioned by the police and told them that Mam was conscious when he left for work last Monday. He had not yet spent a night at the house.

  The burial service was over. The family and chief mourners were to go for tea and sandwiches to Lindow. Nanna and Isobel did not want to be driven. They walked together, the others fifty paces behind them. Nanna took Isobel's arm, and because as soon as she was with Nanna she could let go, Isobel was immediately overcome with tears. As they went, Nanna told her that if Mam died it would bring her close to losing her faith. 'I loved my parents and I've always loved Our Lord, Lil. I tried to love Him with all my heart and soul. And I loved your Grandpa. But I never understood the meaning of true love until I had Elsie. They put my baby into my arms and from that moment on I was a changed woman.'

  Isobel could let her tears fall unchecked now. Silent, she held Nanna's little square hand. Nanna needed to put her anguish into words, and only with her could she do it. 'You'llnever understand love, our Lil, until you have a child,' she said. 'You'll think you've found love when you meet your man. But it's nothing like love you'll have for your child. It's an ancient and primitive emotion that can turn heads of mildest women. A mother will kill. A mother will sacrifice her own life to protect her child.'

  She stopped speaking for the ten minutes it took her to climb the bill, then, just as they got to the lane end, she clutched Isobel's arm and cried out loud enough for heaven itself to hear. 'It's all wrong for a mother to outlive her child. I want to die before Elsie!'

  'Nanna. Please. No more tears. We have to be strong today...' Isobel swallowed the great wodge of pain in her throat. 'Mam isn't going to die. Stop crying, please, Nanna.'

  They didn't cry again. Not even when in Nanna's crowded living room they discovered that Howard had left the funeral at the churchyard. People switth black bands on their arms spoke in hushed voices, and said nice things about Grandpa and how much he had meant to them. When they had finished eating and nobody wanted more Isobel took the used crockery into the scullery and started to stack everything for washing. It was there that Doreen found her.

  Doreen was wearing a black dress, her face was thick in powder and paint and she came to stand very close and in a new, unctuous voice said, 'I've been to see your mother. Oh, I was shocked. She used to be the most beautiful woman in the world.'

  Isobel said coldly, 'Used to be? Mam is getting better everyday.'

  Doreen's voice went high and insistent as she added, 'Your mother used to confide in me. She told me things she'd never tell you!'

  Isobel had nothing to fear from Doreen, so it must have been the old reaction that made her hands shake and her adrenaline surge as Doreen pinched her hard on the elbow. 'Why aren't you crying?'

  Then, calmly, Doreen looked at herself in the kitchen overmantel mirror, took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eye comers where her eye-bla
ck had streaked. After she had put her face to rights she taunted, 'You'll have to cut your cloth, Come down to earth and work for your living. You won't be kept on at that fancy school. Howard Leigh wasn't paying for it, that's for certain. He spends his money on other women. Good job he adopted you, though. He'll have to provide for your mother and you.’ Seeing the disgust on Isobel's face, she gave a spluttering laugh before,she went back to inspecting her face. She said, 'Anyway, it's common knowledge. He's up to his ears in debt. Everyone knows he's made a fool of your mother. Money was all he wanted.'

  Then she made a calculating face and watched for lsobel's reaction through the mirror as she said, 'He used to meet me out of work. He'd say, "Fancy seeing you, Doreen!" But he always brought me a box of chocolates and..' she spluttered with laughter again '…took me for a drive down the country lanes.'

  Isobel's face drained of colour. She could be sick on the spot, thinking of her stepfather fondling Doreen. She clasped her hands tight to stop herself from striking the girl. 'You know how to put the knife in, don't you?' she said. 'And twist it.'

  The explosive laugh came. Glee was all over Doreen's face. 'Me? What have I done? I've done nothing but tell you the truth ...'

  Isobel's black coat and hat were hanging up behind the kitchen door. She pushed past Doreen, knocking her off balance as she reached for her coat, buttoned it with trembling hands, grabbed the hat and pulled it on. 'I'll have to get some good, clean air,' she said. 'There's a nasty smell in here.'