by Maggie Hope
‘Poorly?’ Hetty was suddenly alert. Audrey had had the day off, she remembered, had gone back to Smuggler’s Cove to see her family last night. ‘What’s the matter with her?’
There was a short silence at the other end then Mr Hutchins spoke again and Hetty could hear the strain in his voice. ‘The doctor says it’s diphtheria.’
‘Diphtheria?’ The hall was suddenly dark to Hetty. She swayed and had to clutch the hall table to remain upright.
‘Hello? Are you there, Hetty?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m here. Is it bad? I mean—’
‘Aye, it’s bad, Hetty. Charlie’s bad too.’
‘Charlie? You mean he has diphtheria as well as Audrey?’
‘Audrey’s worse than Charlie.’
‘Please insert another tuppence if you wish to talk longer,’ the operator butted in.
‘Just a minute, Hetty.’ She heard the sound of the pennies dropping into the box and waited impatiently.
‘Are you still there?’ she asked.
‘I’ll have to go now, I can hear the ambulance coming down the road,’ he replied, and the line went dead.
Hetty replaced the receiver in the cradle and stood absolutely still, staring at it. Diphtheria. It was here in Cleveland as well as Auckland.
‘Is something the matter?’
Hetty looked round. Sylvia was standing in Penny’s bedroom doorway. Penny! Hetty rushed across the hall, almost knocking Sylvia over in her haste to get to her daughter. Penny was lying on her back, her mouth open. She was breathing heavily, was she flushed?
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Sylvia from behind her but Hetty hardly heard her. She put her hand on Penny’s brow. It was hot, the skin very dry.
‘She doesn’t look too well, does she?’ asked Sylvia. ‘I was just coming to tell you. I think she might have a summer cold coming on. I was about to suggest we kept her home from school tomorrow and had the doctor look at her.’
‘Mammy?’
Penny opened her eyes and looked up at Hetty. Her eyes were bright and feverish, her cheeks flushed and her voice was hoarse. ‘Can I have a drink, Mammy?’ she asked. ‘My throat’s sore.’
‘I’ll get you one, pet,’ said Hetty, and turned to Sylvia as though she had just realised she was there. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was so bad?’ she cried, and Sylvia looked as though she were about to cry. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, bring her a glass of orange juice, Sylvia.’
‘I’m not sure we have any …’
‘Well, bring some up from the restaurant! Or do you want me to go myself?’
Sylvia rushed off, her air of quiet efficiency deserting her in the face of Hetty’s anger. But when she came back, panting slightly from running up the stairs with a full jug of orange juice, Hetty had recognised her own panic and willed herself to stay calmer. Sylvia could be right. Just because Audrey and Charlie had diphtheria it didn’t mean Penny had it too. No, it was just a cold, of course it was.
She took the juice from Sylvia and poured out half a glass, then helped Penny to sit up and drink it. But Penny could only take a few sips before she slid back down the bed, exhausted.
‘My throat hurts, Mam,’ she whispered again.
‘All right, love. I tell you what, I’ll call Dr MacPherson. He’ll give you something to make it better.’
‘Is it morning, Mam? Don’t go out, Mammy, please, don’t go to work today,’ the child said, and Hetty’s heart dropped even further. Dear God! she thought wildly. Penny was delirious!
‘I’ll call the doctor,’ said Sylvia, her capable self again. She started for the door.
‘Tell him to come at once, will you? Penny has been in contact with—’ Hetty’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper ‘– diphtheria and she is feverish and has a very sore throat.’
Just because there’s diphtheria about doesn’t mean that’s what Penny is suffering from, Hetty told herself. She sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Dr MacPherson, gazing at Penny who had fallen asleep again. Was she asleep or was she unconscious? Hetty bent closer. How did you tell? She could hear Sylvia in the hall, talking to the doctor. But no, she wasn’t talking to the doctor but someone else. Hetty went to the door to hear better.
‘But where is he?’ Sylvia was saying. ‘We need him urgently, we have a child very ill—’
Hetty had snatched the telephone from her. ‘This is Hetty Pearson of Pearson’s Ruby in Ruby Street. Who is that?’ she demanded.
‘This is Dr MacPherson’s housekeeper. I can take a message for him.’
‘A message? We need a doctor now. Where is he?’
‘Mrs Pearson, I’m sure nothing is to be gained by panicking. Now calm down—’
‘Where is he?’ It was practically a shriek.
‘It’s Sunday, Mrs Pearson. Doctors have to have time off as well as everyone else, you know. As a matter of fact, Dr MacPherson is playing golf. I expect him back any time now, so you see there is no need to panic.’
Golf? He was playing golf? When there was a diphtheria epidemic? Hetty wasted no more time. She put down the telephone and ran down the stairs then back up again to snatch up her car keys. It wouldn’t take five minutes to get to the golf course.
‘Hetty? Hetty, what’s wrong?’
Amazingly, Richard was outside. She didn’t take time to wonder what he was doing back again so soon. ‘I can’t stay, I have to get to the Golf Club,’ she said, breathless from her run up and down the stairs. She was having trouble inserting the car key in the lock, her hand trembled so much and she couldn’t see properly.
‘Hetty, tell me what’s wrong? Is it Penny?’
‘Yes, it’s Penny, I have to bring Dr MacPherson.’ She dropped the key and scrabbled in the gutter for it.
‘And he’s at the Golf Club?’ At her nod he took the keys from her. ‘I’ll bring him,’ he said. ‘I’ll take your car, mine is at the top of the street. You go back to Penny.’
Hetty looked at him. ‘No, I have to go.’ She felt that only she could make the doctor see how urgent it was.
‘No, you don’t,’ said Richard. He was already opening the car door and climbing into the driver’s seat. He even had the seat pushed back and the engine running. ‘Go on now, go back to Penny. I’ll find MacPherson, you can depend on me.’
He was away before Hetty could protest further, roaring round the corner into Marine Parade.
‘Mam, I thought you’d gone away, and you said you wouldn’t,’ Penny whispered. ‘You said you wouldn’t.’ Her eyes were fever-bright and full of reproach.
‘No, pet, I won’t, I’m here.’ Hetty sat on the bed and took hold of Penny’s hot, dry hand. ‘I won’t leave you.’
Chapter 36
The isolation hospital was an old brick building with four extra wards behind, long, low annexes with tall, metal-framed windows for letting in light and air – only the windows were open just four inches at the bottom and the blinds were down halfway because the sunlight was too strong for the patients’ eyes. At least that was what Nurse Rose said when Penny asked her to let the blind up, the one near her bed.
Penny lay in the bed, a black, iron bed not like her own wooden bed at home. She put her hand under her head for she’d no pillow. That was something else Nurse Rose said she couldn’t have.
‘Lie quietly now, like a good girl,’ the nurse had said after she had pushed a stick with cotton wool on it down her throat and almost choked Penny altogether. Taking a swab, Nurse Rose had called it. ‘If you’re good, Matron will let your mother come and see you this afternoon.’
‘Two negative swabs and you can go home,’ said the boy in the next bed, knowledgeably. He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching Penny with interest.
‘Eric, lie down properly,’ Nurse Rose said sharply.
He lay down but when the nurse had gone he resumed his position balancing his head on his hand. ‘Your mam will have to look through the window. That’s why they’ve opened it like that, so no germs get out.’
>
Penny closed her eyes and two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Mam had promised she wouldn’t leave her so why had she let the ambulance bring her to this horrible place? That horrible ambulance. Even though Mam had said it was coming for her she hadn’t believed it for hadn’t she always crossed her fingers and touched her collar every time she saw one, and chanted, ‘Touch collar, never follow, don’t come to my door’? But now it had come for her. Penny was swamped in misery and her throat hurt and her leg was sore where the nurse had stuck a needle in it. She rubbed at the place but the action made her arm ache and she stopped. After a moment she fell asleep.
There was a sudden clatter at the end of the ward and she woke with a start. The smell of food was in the air, it must be dinnertime. She wanted to go to the lavatory, but where was it? She looked desperately around and decided the door at the opposite end to where the nurses were filling plates with mince and carrots and taties must be it. Cautiously she pushed the bedclothes back and slipped her feet out of bed. It was a high bed. She had to jump to reach the floor and thought she was going to fall but she didn’t. She couldn’t see any slippers so she began to walk in the direction of what she thought must be the lavatory and promptly fell against the foot of the next bed.
‘Mind, you’ll cop it!’ breathed Eric, and he was right, Nurse Rose was running down the ward. She picked Penny up and was cross. Very cross indeed. Penny knew she was going to ‘play war’ with her as Mam said whenever she’d done something wrong.
‘I told you: never get out of bed, Penny Pearson. Never, never, never!’
In her shock, Penny wet herself, soaking her nightie first. She tried desperately to stop but somehow she couldn’t and water dripped on to the polished floor.
‘I just wanted a wee – I wanted a wee! I was looking for the lavvy and now look what you’ve made me do!’ she screamed at the nurse, and began to sob helplessly.
‘Dear me, water at both ends,’ said a soft voice and there was the one in the dark blue dress. ‘Come along, Penny, I’ll put you back to bed and Nurse will go and get you a clean nightdress.’ Sister it was. Penny thought she was lovely, her voice was so kind and she smiled a lot and didn’t look angry at all. She took Penny and laid her in bed and covered her up. ‘Lie still now, we’ll soon have you clean and dry.’
‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ said Nurse Rose, sounding scared. When Sister turned to answer her voice had changed altogether, surprising Penny because she seemed like a different lady.
‘Nurse Rose, how did it happen that this little girl was allowed out of bed?’
Nurse Rose was stuttering something and Eric had stopped eating his mince and taties and was staring at Sister and all at once Penny missed her mother with such intensity that she thought she would die. She lay in a tight little ball with her eyes shut, not even opening them when Nurse Rose came with Nurse Snowdon and clean sheets and a nightgown. A horrible hospital nightgown. She wasn’t even allowed to wear her own nighties any more.
At two o’clock, her bed was turned to face the window along with all the other children’s and the window was opened four inches at the bottom and then at last Mam was there, outside the window, and with her was Uncle Richard. Penny was mortified that he should see her with her eyes all red, he would think she was a baby, that she had been crying for her mother. What was he doing there anyway?
‘Are you all right, pet?’ Mam asked. ‘Have you been crying?’ Her voice sounded funny but then she had to shout a bit, talking through the window with just that opening at the bottom. Penny had been waiting to tell Mam all about what had happened but she couldn’t now, not when he was there, how could she? He might be her uncle but she didn’t know him really, and every time she thought of the way she had wet herself shame engulfed her. She contented herself with a nod.
‘I’ve brought you a colouring book and some pencils,’ said Hetty, holding them up to the window.
‘I’m not ’llowed books,’ said Penny. ‘Sister says I’m not.’ Perversely she was pleased to see her mother show her disappointment.
‘Sister will keep them until you’re well enough to have them,’ said Uncle Richard. He was standing close by Mam, too close. ‘I brought you a basket of fruit,’ he added, holding up a round basket of oranges and bananas and grapes. ‘You like fruit, don’t you?’
‘Yes, thank you. But I don’t want to talk now, my throat hurts,’ she replied. It did too, it wasn’t a lie. Besides, now her mother was there where she could see her, even if she couldn’t touch her or give her a cuddle, Penny was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. And that was what she did, dropping off in an instant like a newborn baby.
They handed the basket of fruit in to the ward office and Hetty and Richard walked out of the hospital to where he had parked his car on the roadside.
‘As well as could be expected,’ said Hetty, almost to herself. ‘Now what on earth does that mean?’
‘Come on now, Hetty, it means exactly what it says,’ Richard answered, trying to be encouraging. She studied him, to gauge what he really thought. She was confused. She knew that when it came to anything being wrong with Penny she panicked. And she blamed herself because she hadn’t realised how ill her daughter had been when they returned from Morton.
It was Richard who had taken charge on Sunday evening, she herself had been as much use as a man off, she thought. Richard had been there for her, from early morning until evening on Monday and Tuesday. He talked to the doctors; helped Mr Jordan when the Board of Health insisted that the restaurant should be fumigated along with the flat and Audrey’s room in Pearson’s Marine. Hetty was confused because she couldn’t understand herself; she felt she couldn’t trust her own judgement, not over this. Even after all the years of looking after Penny, and being in charge of the hotel business.
She couldn’t eat and slept little, and when she did sleep it was to dream of Cissy, something she hadn’t done for many years. She could feel the skin stretched tightly over her cheekbones, feel the ache in her eyes which she always got when she was tired, and knew the weariness must show on her face. Yet she had others to see in the ward, she remembered, Charlie was on the opposite side to Penny.
‘I must see Charlie,’ she said, and turned back to the hospital.
‘Of course,’ Richard answered, though he wasn’t at all sure who Charlie was. He followed her round the outside of the building to another tall window. Mr Hutchins was there, on his own. He greeted Hetty, acknowledged her introduction of Richard before turning back to the window.
‘Hello, Charlie,’ Hetty said. The boy was lying straight and still under the bedclothes, his glasses reflecting the light from the window and making his eyes owl-like in his white face. But he smiled when he saw Hetty.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come on Saturday,’ he said, and Hetty realised that he wasn’t as poorly as she had expected; he even had a pillow and his voice was quite strong. In fact, when she glanced at the other small figures in the beds, as far as she could see in her restricted view through the window, he looked comparatively well.
Hetty talked to him for a while, promising to bring him in a chess set, ‘If the doctor says it’s all right,’ and his eyes lit up. The bell for the end of visiting went and she walked down the path to the gate with Mr Hutchins, Richard behind them.
‘The doctor says it’s only a mild case,’ Mr Hutchins volunteered. ‘I thank God for it.’
‘Yes. Penny too. They shouldn’t be in long. But where’s Audrey?’
He shook his head and hurried on, walking rapidly up the asphalt path and stopping by the gate. Hetty glanced at Richard and he came forward and took her arm.
‘Mr Hutchins?’
‘Audrey’s not so good,’ he said in a gritty sort of voice.
Hetty could think of nothing to say; she just stared mutely at him.
‘I haven’t told Charlie,’ he said and cleared his throat. ‘Well, I’ll be off to catch the bus.’
‘Please, let me give you a lift home,’
said Richard. And Mr Hutchins nodded his acceptance.
They dropped him off at his door and Richard drove back to the main road, heading for Saltburn.
‘He’s a widower, I take it?’ asked Richard.
‘No, he remarried.’ Hetty explained the situation. ‘His wife didn’t even go with him to the hospital,’ she added.
‘Some people are frightened of hospitals.’
Hetty sighed. She sat quietly beside him until he parked in front of the restaurant, all dark and deserted now. Mr Jordan planned to re-open it at the end of the week.
‘Are you coming in?’ She looked anxiously at him. She couldn’t bear to go in on her own even though Sylvia was there.
‘Of course.’
They sat in her sitting-room, close together on the couch. Sylvia had prepared a tray of supper and gone off to her own room after asking after the children.
‘More coffee?’ Hetty asked him and when he shook his head she sat back on the couch, conscious of his shoulder touching hers, his long legs stretched out in front of him. And even though she was still worrying about Penny, still wondering how she had settled down, whether she was sleeping, was it really true that she was in no real danger, was she lonely, were the nurses comforting her, she was still glad Richard was there, finding his presence so comforting.
‘Have you told your parents?’ he asked.
She hadn’t, not yet. She could have sent a telegram or rung the postmistress and asked her to take a message, but this was not the sort of message she could give in that way. They would immediately think the worst if a telegram came; Hetty remembered them as always bringing bad news when she was a child.
‘I can go over there, if you don’t want to leave here while Penny is in hospital?’
‘Would you?’ She made no pretence of demurral and he smiled down at her.
‘I’ll go now,’ he said.
Driving over to Bishop Auckland, he went over the talk he had had with his mother only that morning before he returned to Saltburn and Hetty’s side.
‘I intend to marry Hetty Pearson if she’ll have me after all this family has done to her,’ he had said.