The Grace Girls

by Geraldine O'Neill

  ‘It looks as though you finally have Gerry off your hands,’ Kirsty commented at the break, when they were all in the Ladies’, touching up their lipstick and checking their hair. ‘Either that, or he’s trying his best to make you jealous.’

  ‘Well, it hasn’t worked,’ Heather told her. ‘I’ve no interest in anything he does.’

  Whether he had left or whether he was in some dark corner of the dance hall, Gerry was nowhere to be seen towards the end of the night. Liz had been delighted when Jim took her up for several dances in a row, and then suggested that they leave early. After explaining to the girls, she went off with a great bright-eyed flourish, grabbing her bag and rushing off to get her coat and things from the cloakroom.

  ‘Pa-thetic!’ Kirsty had pronounced as Liz swept out on Jim’s arm. ‘If I ever get like that over a fella,’ she told Heather, ‘shoot me!’

  The rest of the evening passed quickly, with the girls missing only the odd dance when their feet needed a rest.

  ‘It wasn’t a bad night, after all,’ Heather said, as they queued to collect their hats and coats in the draughty corridor.

  ‘You looked as if you were enjoying yourself when you were up dancing,’ Kirsty said, dropping her voice in case any of the other girls queuing could hear her, ‘especially when you were jivin’ with the Teddy boy.’

  Heather laughed as she handed her coat ticket over to the small, dumpy lady behind the counter. ‘I did enjoy myself, and I definitely felt a lot more relaxed after Gerry left,’ she admitted. ‘Did you feel you had a good night?’

  ‘Aye, I suppose I did,’ Kirsty said, but there was a slight note of reservation in her voice. She smiled benignly at the cloakroom attendant as she took her coat and hat from her. ‘I got several offers, but the boys all seem really young and immature at times. There’s absolutely nobody I’d have let see me home.’

  A picture of the handsome Larry Delaney suddenly flashed into her mind, and it dawned on Kirsty that she had enjoyed herself far more in the older man’s company the other night. There were parts of the time she had spent with him that had taken a wee while to get used to, but once she had, she discovered that it was just a different way of doing things. As she looked around at all the other girls bustling around the cloakroom now, she decided that anything she had done with Larry was a lot more interesting than what she was doing with all these people her own age.

  ‘Quick,’ Heather said, looking at her watch, ‘we’ll just make the eleven o’clock bus if we hurry.’

  The girls pulled on their coats and hats, then scarves and gloves. Then the Grace sisters set off, arm in arm, into the cold, white night.

  Chapter 21

  Sophie, wide awake and lying silently beside her husband, was just planning how she would slide out of bed without waking him, to have the fried breakfast cooked and eaten well before ten o’clock Mass. She moved when she heard the gate bang open and the footsteps half-running, half-sliding up the path, and was pulling on her dressing-gown when she heard the doorbell ringing and the clatter of the letter box all at the same time.

  ‘It’s Lily!’ spluttered Patrick Grace, Mona and Pat’s gangly, fifteen-year-old son. He was the one that Mona sent on all the messages, being the most trustworthy and the one most intimidated by her. ‘She’s not well – she can hardly talk, she’s all hot and she complainin’ about her arms and legs. My mammy says can you come straight over and see what ye think?’

  ‘Fintan!’ Sophie called up the stairs. ‘Fintan!’ Then, when she heard a mumbled response she called again. ‘There’s something wrong with Lily . . . I’m going across now.’

  ‘She was all hot and couldn’t breathe last night,’ Patrick explained as they went along, his voice coming out in little white puffs into the snowy winter air. ‘My mammy gave her aspirins and some Lucozade and she fell asleep. But when they woke this mornin’ she was just lyin’ there hardly able to talk and she couldnae move her legs very well . . .’

  ‘Have they phoned for the doctor?’ Sophie asked as they ran up Mona’s front path. She pulled her dressing-gown tighter over her chest, suddenly conscious of the silent but searing cold.

  ‘He’s still there, and he’s sent our Declan up to the priest to phone for an ambulance. He said she’ll need to go straight to the Strathclyde.’ The Strathclyde Hospital in Motherwell was the nearest General Hospital, and served Rowanhill and all the surrounding local villages.

  ‘Oh, dear Jesus!’ Sophie muttered to herself, feeling the clouds of worry and illness envelop her like a damp, cold blanket as she entered the house. She heard a whimpering sound coming from the kitchen, and she stopped for a moment to look in through the open door, and there, curled up in his basket and looking out at her very dolefully, was Lily’s constant compan­ion, Whiskey. Sophie made a vague comforting tutting noise at the dog, and then followed Patrick straight upstairs to where the family were all standing outside Lily’s little room.

  Mona came forward to grasp her sister-in-law’s hands, and Sophie could feel the desperation in the tight, trembling grip. ‘It’s her arms and legs . . . Please God, it’s not polio!’ she whispered, her breath coming in little gulps. ‘Please God – don’t let it be that . . .’

  ‘No, no . . .’ said Sophie, her arms coming around Mona. ‘Sure, that’s all over . . . there haven’t been any cases of polio this long time.’

  Mona shook her head violently. ‘The doctor said there’s been another outbreak . . . they must have been keepin’ it quiet . . . a baby and a wee boy in Motherwell just yesterday.’

  ‘What else did the doctor say?’ Sophie asked, dreading the reply, but feeling it was the right thing to say. Then, a bitter draught wrapped itself around her bare legs and her slippered feet as Fintan and the girls entered the house.

  ‘He just doesn’t know . . .’ Mona whispered. ‘He says it’s not for him to diagnose . . . that the hospital will do all the tests.’ She moved towards her daughter’s bedroom door, bringing Sophie along with her, still desperately grasping her hands.

  ‘Maybe it’s just the flu . . .’ Sophie suggested, but as they entered the room to see the doctor kneeling by the prone little body, she knew instantly that whatever it was, it wasn’t just the flu.

  For two cold, snowy days and nights everyone held their breath, waiting on news of Lily Grace. It was as if the light and life had left the Grace family houses and all the ones surrounding them. Nobody could believe that such a vivacious, impish little creature as Lily could suddenly be struck down in such a way.

  And struck down she surely was. Within hours the local hospital realised they were not dealing with a straightforward case of pneumonia, and murmurs amongst the doctors that Hairmyres Hospital outside Hamilton would be better equipped to diagnose the child led the whispers of polio to reach out into the hospital corridors.

  One of the senior doctors who had been on duty overnight was called from his bed. His face – grim from being woken out of a much-needed, deep sleep – became grimmer when he checked over the now hot and coughing Lily. An ambulance was hurriedly arranged, and the little girl was wheeled out on a trolley with breathing equipment and various tubes attached to her.

  Pat and Mona went along with her in the ambulance, and the boys followed closely behind in their father’s Ford Anglia. Initially, they all milled around in the unfamiliar hospital corridor as a group of doctors and nurses shut themselves away with Lily. After a while, Pat and Mona were led into a small waiting room whilst the boys were ushered out of the building to take refuge in the Anglia in the car park, as they all waited for news.

  Eventually it came.

  Lily Grace, it was now confirmed, had contracted the dreaded poliomyelitis germ. It was now a matter of waiting to see the extent of the damage the germ had done.

  Chapter 22

  Heather Grace shielded her eyes against the dazzling lights of a car coming towards them on the dark country road. So far the journey had been easy, since it was as pleasant a night as yo
u could get in December and the roads were fine and dry. A much better night than most since Lily had been brought into the hospital over a fortnight ago.

  ‘What did you say you’ve brought for Lily, Mammy?’ Heather checked from the back seat of her father’s car where she was sitting with her sister. ‘Was it Ludo or Snakes and Ladders?’

  ‘Both,’ Sophie said from the front seat, holding up a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper and tied up with white string. ‘The board has one game on one side and one on the other – so Sammy in the paper shop informed me when I bought it.’

  ‘I’ve got her the new Malory Towers book she wanted for Christmas,’ Kirsty put in, ‘so the wee devil’s gettin’ it earlier. She’ll be delighted wi’ that.’

  ‘And I’ve got her a teenage dressing-doll set and loads of packets of those cherub and angel scraps she likes,’ Heather said, and then she halted. ‘I nearly bought her a box of Milk Tray, then I remembered that she’s still not able to swallow very well . . . God love her,’ Heather added her voice cracking a little. ‘I still can’t believe it’s happened . . . I can’t believe that wee lively soul is paralysed. I can still picture her hopping about, lifting her legs up to her chin in the country dancing.’

  ‘She won’t be doing any dancing for a long time,’ Kirsty said quietly. ‘She could be lucky if she’s able to walk again.’

  ‘She’s coming on,’ Sophie reminded the girls, ‘and that’s the most important thing to remember.’

  ‘Aye,’ Fintan chipped in, ‘she’s over the worst, thanks be to God and his Blessed Mother. It didn’t kill her, so we’ve a lot to be grateful for.’

  A silence descended on the car as they approached the entrance to Hairmyres Hospital, and then Fintan negotiated his way in through the gates and up to a parking space beside Lily’s ward. They got out of the car and walked towards the building.

  ‘Who else is visiting tonight?’ Heather whispered as they walked along the brightly lit, low-ceilinged corridor to Lily’s ward.

  ‘Mona and Pat as usual,’ Sophie whispered back, ‘and probably some of the boys. There’s usually a good few of them in every afternoon and night now they’re on school holidays. Father Finlay has been coming in regularly and so have a lot of the kids from school.’

  ‘I think the whole of Rowanhill has been in to visit her,’ Kirsty said smiling. ‘She’s one of the most popular wee girls in the place and in the school.’

  The ward was busy as usual, with small groups around each of the twenty beds. Lily was halfway down on the left-hand side, the top of her bedside cabinet full of flowers and cards.

  ‘There’s Pat and Mona,’ Sophie said, giving them a small discreet wave of her gloved hand, ‘and Patrick and Declan are there, too.’

  As soon as he saw them, Pat moved the boys to collect spare chairs from the surrounding beds to accommodate the extra visitors. After the initial bustle of taking off coats and gloves and assorted outdoor garments, they all moved towards the white-painted bed with the high safety-sides, where Lily was propped up on pillows and grinning delightedly to see them, her bright eyes flitting from one to the other. She had on a fancy new pink nightdress with white gathered lace and ribbons at the neck. Her long, curly blonde hair had been brushed and tied back in her customary ponytail.

  Heather caught her breath at the sight of her cousin, thinking how tiny she looked amongst the stiff white sheets and the pale blue, basket-weave blanket – but like the others, she smiled and hid the little pangs of sorrow.

  ‘Well, how’s the wee blether-box the day?’ Fintan said, leaning over the bed to give his niece a careful hug.

  ‘Fine, Uncle Fintan,’ Lily said in a strange, thin little voice. ‘The doctor says I’m an awful lot better.’

  ‘An’ you’re lookin’ it, too, darlin’,’ he said in a voice hoarse with emotion. ‘That oul’ school hasn’t been the same without ye, Lily. Your teacher told me that on the last day before the holidays. She said all the other children were sayin’ how the country dancing display wasn’t as good this year.’ He halted then gave her a wink. ‘And Willie fairly missed you, they’d to get him a new partner from the class below, and he said she wasn’t a patch on you. The way they’re talkin’ I think the whole school have missed you.’

  Lily blushed slightly at the mention of Willie, as her brothers often teased her about him being her boyfriend. Thankfully, nobody reacted to her classmate’s name.

  ‘Have they really all said they missed me?’ she said, looking very pleased at the thought.

  ‘Missed ye?’ Fintan repeated incredulously. ‘They’ve me driven up the wall asking about you. And the teacher said you could tell the difference without you there. Sure, the class were as quiet as mice – it wasn’t the same at all.’ Lily gave a little giggle now, and he was delighted to see her response.

  ‘Are you going to move over and let the rest of us in?’ Sophie joked now, elbowing Fintan out of the way. ‘How are you, hen?’ she said, giving Lily a cuddle. ‘You’re looking a whole lot better today.’

  Heather and Kirsty moved in after their mother, hugging Lily and showing her the presents they had brought her, and reading all the get well cards and letters that had been sent in by the children and adults in Rowanhill.

  ‘You’re a fly wee thing,’ Kirsty teased. ‘Picking the right time to be in the hospital. Gettin’ all these presents now and then you’ll have piles more next week for Christmas.’

  ‘They might be lettin’ me out for Christmas!’ Lily said, her voice sounding a little stronger. She looked at Mona with big wide eyes. ‘Aren’t they, Mammy?’

  Pat turned away, pretending he was looking at something across the other side of the ward. Mona knew instantly that he was leaving the delicate business to her. ‘Now, they didn’t say for definite, Lily,’ she said, her face pained, and her heart even more pained. ‘They said we’d have to see. You have another few days yet.’ The thought of Christmas this year was like something way, way off in the future to Mona. She had become so used to taking things a day at a time – and often an hour at a time.

  ‘But my arms and legs are movin’ again!’ Lily said. ‘Look!’

  Everybody’s gaze moved now to the bottom of the blue-covered bed. A very slight – but very definite – movement could be seen under the covers.

  ‘Well done!’ Sophie said, starting them all off in a carefully muted clapping session, so as not to disturb the other patients and their visitors too much.

  ‘And my arms . . .’ Lily said, her blue eyes dancing with excitement, but her voice now beginning to show signs of strain. ‘I can lift them up a wee bit as well.’ She suddenly started to cough – a choking, breathless kind of cough – and those at the top of the bed moved aside to let her mother in.

  ‘Take it easy now,’ Mona said, coming to stand beside her. She leaned over to dab the side of Lily’s mouth with a folded tissue. ‘Just take easy breaths like the nurse showed you . . .’

  ‘She wasn’t just an ordinary nurse, Mammy,’ Lily rasped, ‘she was a phys-i-o-ther-apist – so she was.’ She leaned back in her pillows, taking deep breaths as she had been instructed.

  A few minutes later Lily was back to feeling reasonably comfortable, and everyone relaxed around her bed again, chatting and showing her the presents they’d bought.

  Heather took the cardboard, teenage dressing-doll with the imitation hair out of the box, and held outfits up to Lily to allow her to pick what the doll should wear. She and Kirsty took turns dressing the doll, making a great, exaggerated show of hiding it from the boys when it only had its underwear on. Each time they did it, everyone tittered with laughter. When Mona called a halt to the laughing for fear of disturbing other patients, and of getting Lily too excited, the Enid Blyton book was produced.

  ‘There’s an older girl called Margaret,’ Lily whispered to Kirsty and Heather, ‘who’s allowed out of her bed, and she comes up and sits beside me and reads to me because I can’t hold the book myself. Sometimes s
he just holds the book out for me and I read it.’ She stopped. ‘I’ll probably ask her to read me the book you brought me tomorrow.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Heather asked in a low, conspiratorial voice, which she knew would engage Lily’s attention further. ‘Now don’t try to point or move yourself . . . just describe where she is so that we know what she looks like.’

  ‘Nosy got hung!’ Kirsty said to her older sister in the childish banter they used when they were young. ‘She’ll know we’re talking about her if everybody looks around.’

  ‘Look to the right,’ Lily said, giggling, swivelling her blue eyes dramatically in the direction, ‘and down three beds. She’s wearin’ a green dressing-gown and she has her hair in two pig-tails.’

  ‘Clocked her!’ Kirsty said. ‘She’s sittin’ up in bed reading all her get well cards to her visitors. She looks a right wee bookworm – and you forgot to mention she was wearin’ glasses. You forgot to say she was a specky-four eyes!’

  Lily giggled some more. ‘Oh, you’re terrible!’ she said, her brows coming down in mock disapproval. ‘Margaret’s not a real specky, for your information – she only wears them for readin’.’

  ‘Well, she looks a right wee specky from where I’m sittin’!’ Kirsty teased.

  Lily started laughing in a heartier manner now and after a few moments the coughing came back with a vengeance.

  ‘Come on now, my wee darlin’,’ Pat said, going over to comfort her. ‘Will I give you a drink of Lucozade?’

  Lily nodded now, trying unsuccessfully to control the spasms. Tears started to trickle down her cheek with the effort, but after a while the coughing subsided again, and she was able to take a drink from a plastic feeding-cup, supported by her father. All the other visitors watched them anxiously, whilst making half-hearted attempts at light conversation to keep the atmosphere as normal as possible.