Harriet

by Jilly Cooper

  Might as well stay in jeans, thought Harriet.

  Eventually at mid-day Dr Williams rolled up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Too much Sister Maddox, thought Harriet.

  ‘You’ve got to do something,’ she pleaded in desperation. ‘I don’t think he can take much more.’

  Jonah started to scream out about the pain killing him.

  ‘Hush, darling,’ said Harriet. ‘The doctor’s here.’

  ‘And you can shut up,’ said Jonah, turning round and bashing her in the face with his hand, ‘Shut up! Shut up! You’re all trying to kill me.’

  ‘He’s losing faith in all of you,’ said Harriet with a sob.

  Dr Williams drew her outside.

  ‘The child is getting too demanding,’ he said. ‘He’s playing you up and you’re overreacting. He senses your panic and it panics him too. I suppose his parents will turn up eventually. How long is it since you ate?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Harriet.

  ‘Well, go downstairs and have something.’

  Down in the canteen, Harriet spread marmalade on toast the consistency of a flannel. All round her nurses were gossiping and chattering about their lives. They all ought to be upstairs making Jonah better. Sister Maddox and Dr Williams obviously felt she was hopeless and hysterical and were trying to keep her away from Jonah. She mustn’t get paranoiac. She mustn’t build up a hatred.

  Upstairs she found Jonah having his temperature taken, the thermometer sticking out of his mouth like a cigar. With his slitty eyes and his hair brushed off his forehead, he suddenly looked very like Cory. Oh, I love him, I love him, she thought.

  As the afternoon wore on he grew more and more incoherent, and difficult to quiet, now semi-conscious, now screaming with pain.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, I want Daddy. I don’t want you, I want Mummy,’ he shouted. ‘Why can’t I have a Mummy? Everyone else at school does.’ He struggled free from the blankets. ‘I want Daddy.’

  ‘You shall have him very soon. Kit’s finding him.’

  ‘I want him now.’

  Oh so do I, thought Harriet.

  She hoped Jonah was falling asleep, but just as she tried to move away, she found him gazing at her in horror, trying to bring her face into focus.

  ‘Harriet! Oh it’s you. Don’t leave me!’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’

  ‘I’m so thirsty.’ The hands clutching her were hot, dry and emaciated.

  ‘This isn’t my room. Why am I here? I want to go home.’

  Dr Williams came back in around six. He looked even more bored.

  ‘We’re going to put up a drip now. He can’t take anything orally and obviously isn’t responding to treatment.’

  A junior nurse popped her head round the door.

  ‘There’s a Kit Erskine on the telephone for you in Sister’s office,’ she said to Harriet.

  ‘Darling Harriet, are you all right?’ said Kit. ‘I gather from the nurse Jonah’s not too bright. Don’t worry, I got a message through to Cory. He’s on location, but he’s flying back tonight. He should be with you tomorrow afternoon. I’ve left a message for Superbitch too. All that rubbish about a weekend in Paris was absolute crap. She’s been frantically losing weight at a health farm, so she may descend on you too, I’m afraid.’

  Harriet didn’t care about Noel. That Cory was coming back was all she could think about.

  The drip was up when she got back, a great bag of liquid seeping into Jonah’s arm. He was delirious most of the time now, his cheeks hectically flushed, his pulse racing. In the end they had to strap his arm down, as the needle kept slipping and blood came racing back down the tube.

  Sammy arrived next with Chattie. ‘It’s long past her bedtime but she wanted to come.’ Sammy brought Jonah a book about Tarzan, Chattie a balloon she’d bought out of her own pocket money.

  ‘William’s fine,’ said Sammy. ‘Chattie and I’ve been looking after him, haven’t we?’ Harriet felt guilty yet relieved they hadn’t brought him; her well-springs of affection seemed to have dried up. ‘Elizabeth’s been the last straw,’ Sammy went on, ‘telling all her friends how she’d taken the baby and Chattie in to help Cory out.’

  Chattie seemed quite cheerful, but she hugged Harriet very tightly. ‘Can I see Jonah?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Harriet, ‘but whisper and don’t worry if he’s not quite himself.’

  Unfortunately, just as Chattie was walking into the room, the balloon popped. Jonah woke up with a start and, not recognizing any of them, started raving incoherently about monsters coming to get him.

  ‘I’ll stay with him,’ said Sammy. ‘You take Chattie down to the canteen for an ice-cream.’

  Chattie charmed everyone, her long blonde hair swinging as she skipped about the canteen talking to all the nurses. Then suddenly she clung to Harriet, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘He’s not going to die, is he?’

  ‘Of course he isn’t,’ said Harriet, hugging her, but feeling inside a sickening lack of conviction.

  ‘I heard Mrs Bottomley telling Sammy it could go either way. What does that mean?’

  ‘Nothing really,’ said Harriet.

  ‘If he died he’d go to heaven wouldn’t he?’ said Chattie.

  ‘Of course he would,’ said Harriet, ‘but he’s not going to.’

  ‘Then I’ll never see him again,’ said Chattie, ‘because I’m so naughty, I’ll go straight to hell.’ She broke into noisy sobs.

  Harriet cuddled her, trying to keep control of herself. ‘Darling, of course you’ll go to heaven.’

  ‘I don’t really believe in heaven anyway,’ sobbed Chattie. ‘I’ve been up in the sky in an aeroplane, and I didn’t see it.’

  Harriet sat biting her nails watching two very young nurses fiddling with the Heath Robinson equipment constituting the drip. Bubbles were streaming down the tube, as they tapped away and the needle kept slipping out of the proper place. Jonah lay in a rare moment of consciousness, the tears pouring down his cheeks.

  Harriet turned to the nurses, her control snapping. ‘Why the bloody hell,’ she snapped, ‘can’t one of you make it work?’

  As a result, Dr Williams gave her a talking-to.

  ‘We’re going to give you a mogadon tonight,’ he said. ‘We know you feel responsible with both the parents away, but you must pull yourself together. You only upset him by screaming at the nurses; they’re doing their best.’

  ‘But why can’t he have proper pain killers and sedatives? If he felt you were doing something to make him better, I know he’d relax and stop fighting you.’

  ‘Jonah’s a very brave child, Miss Poole,’ said Dr Williams coldly. ‘It’s you who can’t take the pain, not him.’

  ‘He’s very very ill isn’t he?’ said Harriet. She had heard the nurses talking about the intensive care unit.

  ‘He’s certainly not a well child,’ said Dr Williams, ‘but where there’s life there’s hope.’

  By midnight Jonah had gone into a coma. Harriet had pretended to take her mogadon, but had thrown it down the lavatory. She sat hour after hour fighting exhaustion and despair, listening to his heavy breathing, holding his hand and praying. Through the glass panel, she could see the black night nurse moving round the wards, adjusting blankets, checking pulses. In a minute she’d be coming into Harriet’s room to change the drip. This time tomorrow Cory would be here. How could she face him if anything happened to Jonah? She put her head in her hands and wept.

  She must have fallen asleep. When she woke up it was nearly light. Jonah lay motionless in bed. For a terrifying moment, Harriet thought he was dead. She felt his forehead; it was cold; he was still breathing faintly.

  Getting to her feet, she ran into the passage to the sister’s office.

  ‘Jonah, he’s breathing so quietly now,’ she stammered. ‘He looks so peaceful, as though he was d-dying.’

  The black nurse got up and took Harriet’s arm. ‘I’ll come and see.’ She felt his pulse, and t
ook his temperature. She turned to Harriet, a great white toothy smile splitting her face.

  ‘I think he’s over the crisis,’ she said. ‘He’s breathing quite normally and his pulse rate’s coming down.’

  Harriet turned away, her shoulders shaking.

  ‘There, there,’ said the nurse. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea, then you can get some sleep.’

  Harriet didn’t trust doctors and nurses; she knew they lied. For all she knew Jonah was still in danger. She sat by his bed until breakfast time, as plastic bag after plastic bag dripped into his arm, listening to the heavy breathing getting slower and more even, the restless movements growing quieter.

  Sister Maddox came on at eight, looking as ice-cool and elegant as ever.

  ‘Good morning. How’s the patient?’ she said briskly. ‘I expect you had a nice sleep with that mogadon. I envy you. I didn’t get to bed till four o’clock.’

  She picked up Jonah’s chart. His temperature and pulse ratings were right down.

  ‘Well, that is better,’ she said. ‘I hope you appreciate Dr Williams a bit more now.’

  ‘Jonah hasn’t come round yet,’ said Harriet sulkily. She knew she was being ungracious.

  ‘He’s getting a much-needed rest,’ said Sister Maddox. ‘I wouldn’t fuss him any more if I were you. I’d go and have some breakfast.’

  Instead Harriet tried to concentrate on an old copy of Reader’s Digest. It pays to improve your ward power, she said to herself. She felt absolutely all in. She hardly recognized her grey face in the mirror. She wished she could wash her hair and have a bath before Cory came, but she was too scared to leave Jonah until she knew he was out of danger.

  The specialist arrived at eleven and didn’t appear altogether happy. ‘He’s not out of the woods yet,’ he said. ‘Let me know when he regains consciousness.’

  Back came the panic, the terrifying fears. Oh don’t let him die, prayed Harriet.

  Quarter of an hour later came Dr Williams, even more unreceptive than usual, as Harriet bombarded him with questions about Jonah’s condition.

  ‘But he is going to get better, isn’t he?’ she said in desperation.

  ‘Really, Miss Poole,’ said Sister Maddox, ‘Dr Williams has got a hundred and one other people to look after.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ insisted Harriet, ‘but Jonah’s father’s due after lunch and he’ll want to know exactly what the score is.’

  ‘Oh, he rang ten minutes ago,’ said Sister Maddox.

  Harriet went white. ‘What did he say? Why didn’t you let me speak to him?’

  ‘You were in the loo or making a cup of coffee,’ said Sister Maddox. ‘I didn’t think it was that important.’

  ‘But you could have got me. You must have known I’d want to talk to him.’

  ‘And you must realize that Sister Maddox has better things to do than acting as a switchboard for all the patients’ relations. You must realize Jonah isn’t the only child in the hospital,’ snapped Dr Williams.

  ‘But he’s the only child here belonging to me,’ shouted Harriet.

  ‘Have I come to the right place,’ said a deep throbbing voice. They all turned round. There in the doorway making the perfect stage entrance smothered in a huge black fur hat stood Noel Balfour.

  ‘Oh yes, I have,’ she said seeing Jonah, and walked quickly towards the bed.

  ‘Oh my precious, precious darling,’ she said with a break in her voice.

  And suddenly exactly on cue, Jonah stirred, sighed and opened his eyes, for a moment he looked at Noel incredulously.

  ‘Mummy,’ he croaked weakly.

  Harriet felt once more the explosion of jealousy as Jonah’s pale face lit up.

  ‘Mummy, is it really you?’

  ‘Yes, it is, my darling. What a dreadful, dreadful time you’ve had.’ She brushed the dank blond hair back from his forehead.

  ‘My arm’s sore,’ muttered Jonah.

  ‘I know, darling,’ said Noel, ‘it’s that horrid drip, but it’s making you so much better every minute, so I know you’ll be brave about it. Because these kind nurses and doctors have been working so hard to make you well.’

  ‘I feel better,’ said Jonah, ‘but my head’s still sore,’ and, sighing, he drifted back to sleep. Noel bent and kissed him on the forehead, aware that she made a most touching sight. Hardly a dry eye in the room, thought Harriet. Everyone was gaping in admiration.

  Noel stood up and looked round. Pulling off her fur hat and running a careless hand through her blonde hair, so that it fell perfectly into shape, she smiled with dazzling wistfulness at the nurses, then turned her headlamp stare on Dr Williams who was blushing like a schoolgirl.

  She held out a hand. ‘My name’s Noel Balfour,’ she said, as if everyone didn’t know it.

  ‘We didn’t know you were his mother,’ said Sister Maddox, looking rather shaken.

  ‘I don’t expect Harriet thought it important,’ said Noel. ‘Not when Jonah’s life was at stake. How is my son, Doctor?’

  ‘Well it’s been touch and go, but it looks as though he’ll pull through now.’

  ‘How long has he been here?’

  ‘Four days now.’

  ‘Four days! Why wasn’t I told before?’ Noel collapsed on a chair, and got out a cigarette with a trembling hand, letting her fur coat fall open to display her magnificent bosom.

  Dr Williams leapt forward with a lighter.

  ‘We tried to find you,’ protested Harriet. ‘They said you were in Paris, but they didn’t know where.’

  ‘It was the studio trying to protect me,’ said Noel. ‘I escaped to Paris to learn a part. And you’ve been all by yourself, poor Harriet. What you must have been through! I’m sure she’s been wonderful.’

  Dr Williams gave a chilly smile. ‘Miss Poole takes her responsibility as a nanny very seriously.’

  Noel, instantly detecting tension, looked from one to the other.

  ‘Where’s Cory?’ she asked Harriet.

  ‘He’s on his way back from the States,’ said Harriet.

  ‘He rang to say he’d be here this afternoon,’ added Sister Maddox.

  ‘Oh thank God,’ said Noel, ‘thank God we can give him good news. Let me sit with him for a bit, Harriet,’ she went on. ‘Go and have a cup of tea and get some rest. You look so tired.’

  Dropping with fatigue, black-ringed beneath the eyes, greasy-haired, and wearing the wrong length skirt, Harriet was only too well aware of the contrast she must make to Noel.

  As she went listlessly down to the canteen she knew she’d been outmanoeuvred. No doubt at this moment Dr Williams was telling Noel how stroppy she’d been with the nurses, and what a bad influence she was on Jonah. And this afternoon Cory would be back, and the first thing he’d find was Noel looking stunning by the bedside. Suddenly she felt twitchy and threatened.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Noel, like all charming people, was totally dependent on the approval and admiration of others. When she sensed disapproval, she merely moved on to fresh conquests. She only liked to live in the sunshine. Her effect on the hospital was dramatic. Suddenly every doctor and nurse in the building seemed to find an excuse to pop in and check Jonah’s condition. The passage outside was like Paddington Station.

  ‘The poor little lad took a turn for the better the moment his mother arrived,’ Harriet heard one nurse saying to another as they added ice-cream scoops of potato to the roast lamb on the supper trays.

  ‘Isn’t she lovely, and so natural?’ said the other. ‘“Nurse you must be so tired,” she said, “Thank you for saving my baby’s life.” Which is more than the complaints we got from that. .’ They stopped abruptly when they saw Harriet.

  ‘Did you see her shoes?’ said one.

  ‘Weren’t they lovely? And her hair. And did you see the way her face lit up when she heard her husband was coming? Such a shame they’re splitting up. She’s obviously still in love with him. Perhaps this’ll bring them together again.’

&
nbsp; The most dramatic change was in Dr Williams’s behaviour. Usually one couldn’t see him for dust the moment he’d done his rounds, but now Noel was ensconced, he was looking in every five minutes. Harriet knew he was off duty that day at three o’clock, but he was still hanging around at five. The compelling, cold, surgical grey eyes were quite moony now, the bored voice husky and caressing. Harriet even caught a waft of aftershave.

  He was very concerned that Noel hadn’t had any lunch. But there was no suggestion that she might go down to the canteen for a cup of tea, Irish stew and carrots. A quarter of an hour later, smoked salmon sandwiches and iced white wine appeared.

  ‘Isn’t he wonderful?’ Noel said to Harriet. ‘So considerate and so concerned about Jonah.’

  ‘It’s only since you’ve been here,’ said Harriet sulkily. ‘He’s been a pig up till now.’

  One of the day nurses popped her head round the door.

  ‘I was just going off duty, Miss Balfour. I wondered if I could have your autograph.’

  ‘Tell me your name,’ said Noel, taking the piece of paper.

  ‘Nurse Rankin,’ said the nurse.

  ‘No. I know you’re Nurse Rankin. I mean your christian name.’

  Nurse Rankin giggled. ‘Actually it’s Dorothy. But everyone calls me Dotty.’

  ‘To Dotty with great pleasure, love and gratitude,’ wrote Noel in her huge scrawl. ‘I think Dotty’s a lovely name. Imagine what it was like being christened Noel. People were always making jokes about the first Noel.’

  ‘I’ve seen all your pictures,’ said Nurse Rankin, a slave to sudden passion. ‘I think you’re absolutely wonderful.’

  ‘And I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for my little boy.’

  Lay it on with a trowel, thought Harriet in disgust.

  ‘Everything all right?’ It was Dr Williams popping in again.

  ‘Absolutely marvellous,’ said Noel, turning her startling tawny eyes on him. ‘You are a saint, David.’

  David now, thought Harriet. He was looking exactly like Sevenoaks when Mytton’s bitch was on heat.

  ‘I haven’t managed all the sandwiches,’ said Noel, ‘I’m feeling too upset to eat, but the wine is delicious. Won’t you have some?’