Swansea Summer

by Catrin Collier

  ‘No, Mr Griffiths, it’s nothing like that.’ Jack swallowed hard as he looked at his father-in-law. ‘Helen is in hospital.’

  ‘John Griffiths, enquiring about Mrs Helen Clay …’ John’s voice rose precariously as his patience wore thin. He had been on the telephone for over twenty minutes and during that time he had been passed from one member of the hospital staff to another. First the night porter, then the night casualty receptionist who’d connected him to two ward sisters who both insisted they hadn’t heard of ‘Mrs Helen Clay’. At the third ward his call had been diverted to, he’d spoken to a student nurse who’d told him to hold for a staff nurse who finally conceded that there was ‘a Mrs Helen Clay on the ward’, but as she wasn’t authorised to take calls from relatives she would get Sister to speak to him.

  ‘Night sister speaking.’

  Controlling his irritation, John repeated, ‘I am enquiring about Mrs Helen Clay.’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘John Griffiths, her father.’

  ‘Her husband is down as next of kin.’

  ‘He is with me. Would you like to speak to him?’

  ‘Frankly, Mr Griffiths, with a ward to run I would rather speak to neither of you.’

  ‘Can you tell me if my daughter is out of surgery?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’ he pressed angrily.

  ‘She is as well as can be expected.’

  ‘What does that mean in plain English?’

  ‘It means what I said, Mr Griffiths. Considering she has had a major operation, she is as well as can be expected. If there is any change we will contact you.’

  The line went dead. Jack jumped up from the stairs where he’d been sitting as John replaced the receiver on its cradle.

  ‘“As well as can be expected considering she has had a major operation.” At least we know she is out of theatre.’

  ‘Did they say when we can see her?’

  ‘No, but they said they’ll be in touch if there’s any change. If they don’t, I’ll telephone first thing in the morning.’ He patted Jack reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘You look exhausted. Why don’t you try to get some sleep.’

  Jack thought of the pristine flat downstairs waiting for Helen and him to move in. ‘I couldn’t – not in the basement.’

  ‘There’s Helen’s room.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep there either.’

  ‘Do you want to go back to your brother’s?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Griffiths, I’d like to stay here in case the hospital does ring.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ John said wearily, ‘but I warn you, our sofa has to be the most uncomfortable that’s ever been made.’

  John didn’t draw the curtains in the living room so he could watch the street. Every time he heard a footfall, he went to the window, hoping it would be Martin or Katie. Since he had telephoned the hospital, Jack had retreated into silence, refusing all offers of food and drink although he was sure he hadn’t had anything since leaving London. If he couldn’t get him to eat perhaps Martin could.

  He jumped up as he heard a familiar voice. Walking to the front door, he opened it and shouted, ‘Martin?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Griffiths.’ Leaving Sam, Martin walked up the short path to John Griffiths’ front door.

  ‘Jack’s here.’

  ‘Did they have a good time …’

  ‘Helen’s in hospital.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Judy and Lily ran up to them but Katie hung back behind her brother rather than face John.

  ‘Helen was taken ill on the train,’ John divulged. ‘She’s in hospital.’

  ‘Do you know how she is, Mr Griffiths?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Neither Jack nor I succeeded in getting any sense out of the hospital. All we know for sure is that she’s had major surgery.’

  ‘Can we see Jack?’ Katie refused to meet John’s eye.

  ‘Of course.’ He held the door open for Martin and Katie, then looked at Sam, Judy and Lily. ‘I don’t want to stop you from coming in but I don’t think there’s anything any of you can do tonight.’

  ‘You’ll telephone if there is,’ Lily pleaded.

  ‘I promise.’

  Surprised to see lights on in the house when he returned from Robin’s at one in the morning, Joe unlocked the door and walked into the living room to find his father, Katie and Martin sitting in silence. ‘Who died?’ he joked, not noticing Jack slumped in the corner of the sofa behind the door until he stepped into the room.

  ‘Helen was taken ill on the train, she’s in hospital,’ John said flatly. ‘They said they’d telephone if there’s any change.’

  Joe stopped in his tracks. ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘They won’t tell us anything.’ His father gave him a warning glance before looking at Jack.

  ‘God, how awful. Jack, I’m so sorry.’

  Jack shrugged his shoulders, not trusting himself to speak.

  ‘But she is going to be all right.’

  ‘Hopefully.’ John adopted an optimistic face for Jack’s sake. ‘We’ll find out more in the morning. If you’re making yourself a drink, mine’s a whisky.’

  ‘Jack, Martin, Katie?’ Joe enquired as he poured his father a generous measure. ‘We’ve brandy, gin, port, sherry …’

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’ Jack sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor.

  ‘No thank you, Joe,’ Katie said.

  ‘I couldn’t face a drink either.’ Martin was finding it a strain to be in the same room with Joe.

  ‘I could make you tea or coffee if you prefer, and sandwiches …’

  They all shook their heads.

  ‘There’s no point in us all staying up to wait for a telephone call that might not come.’ John took the whisky Joe handed him. ‘Why don’t you go to bed, that way one of us will have a clear head in the morning.’

  John left his chair and limped to the standard lamp as the first pewter-hued rays of dawn filtered through the crack between the curtains. Switching off the light, he pushed aside the drapes and looked outside. There was a slight mist, portending a fine day and he noticed the leaves unfurling on the shrubs on the bank opposite. Spring was giving way to summer. Turning, he looked at Katie and Martin. They had insisted on staying with Jack but both of them had fallen asleep in the small hours, Martin in one of the chairs, Katie curled beside Jack on the sofa. Jack, like him, hadn’t closed his eyes all night.

  ‘Tea?’ he mouthed quietly.

  Jack nodded.

  Glad to leave the oppressive atmosphere, John went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. As he lit the gas Jack, looking even more haggard, drained and exhausted than when he had found him in the basement the night before, joined him.

  ‘Katie and Martin still asleep?’ John set cups and saucers on a tray.

  ‘Yes, I managed to move without disturbing her.’ Jack rubbed his arm where his sister’s head had rested most of the night. He hadn’t minded the numbness that had led to pins and needles; it had helped keep him awake, ears straining for a telephone call that he hadn’t known whether to wish for or not. ‘Can I telephone the hospital, Mr Griffiths?’

  John glanced at the clock. ‘You can try but I doubt they’ll tell you anything at this time in the morning.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You know the number?’

  ‘They gave it to me last night.’ As Jack searched his pockets for the piece of paper the receptionist had given him along with Helen’s clothes, the telephone rang, startlingly loud in the hushed house. He charged down the passage and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Is Jack Clay available?’

  ‘Speaking.’ Jack’s hand was shaking so much he could barely hold the telephone.

  ‘Will you be able to meet Mrs Clay’s doctor at nine o’clock this morning?’

  ‘Yes – how is Helen …’

  ‘Nine o’clock,’ the voice repeated.

  Jack looked
up to see Joe standing in his dressing gown and pyjamas on the landing. Martin and Katie were in the doorway of the living room. He turned to John. ‘The doctor will see me at nine o’clock.’

  ‘And Helen?’

  ‘They wouldn’t tell me any more.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Martin stepped back as Lily opened her door. ‘I can’t stay.’

  ‘Not even long enough for me to ask how Helen is?’

  Taking Lily’s comment as a reproach, Martin joined her in the hall. ‘Jack left with her father for the hospital a few minutes ago.’

  ‘She is going to be all right, isn’t she?’ Lily asked anxiously.

  ‘Jack hasn’t even been told what’s wrong with her. You know what they’re like in hospitals.’

  ‘No.’ She opened the door to the parlour, but he remained in the hall. ‘I haven’t had much experience of them.’

  ‘They never tell the family a thing until they absolutely have to.’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do …’

  ‘Thank you, but there isn’t anything that Katie or I can do,’ he broke in, making her feel as though she were trying to push herself where she wasn’t wanted. ‘About today …’

  ‘Even if we’d made firm plans, we could hardly go off on a jaunt with Helen ill.’

  ‘I hoped you’d understand.’

  Lily almost said ‘and I hoped you knew me better’ but with Helen ill and him worried about Jack, it was hardly the time to confront him about his attitude to her. ‘Mrs Lannon is making breakfast. You’re welcome to join us.’

  ‘None of us felt like eating this morning so Katie’s preparing something for when Jack and Helen’s father come back. I ought to stay with her – just in case Jack or the hospital telephones.’

  ‘Give Katie my love and remind her I’m here if she needs anything.’

  ‘She’ll probably call in later, even if she decides to stay with Jack again tonight.’ He looked at her for a moment and she thought he was going to say something else, then he turned and left.

  At ten minutes to nine John and Jack were shown to a row of wooden chairs in the corridor outside the female surgical ward. They sat side by side, too concerned about what might be happening to Helen to attempt conversation. John glanced impatiently at his watch after he could have sworn they had been there several hours. The hands pointed to twenty past nine.

  Footsteps echoed further down the corridor but none came near them. After another ten-minute wait he rose stiffly from his chair and massaged his damaged leg. His scars were aching and he was muscle-bound after sitting up all night. Pacing uneasily, he was careful to keep within sight of Jack who blanched paler with every passing second.

  ‘Mr Clay.’ A middle-aged nurse stood in front of Jack’s chair. ‘The doctor will see you now.’

  They were shown into an office that smelled of hospital disinfectant. The walls were painted institution green, the woodwork brown, matching the linoleum on the floor. A young man sat surrounded by files, scribbling notes at a desk.

  ‘Mr Clay and …’ The nurse looked inquisitively at John, uncertain whether to admit him.

  ‘John Griffiths, I’m Mrs Clay’s father.’

  ‘Thank you, staff. Take a seat. Be with you in a moment.’ The doctor waved his hand without looking up from the notes he continued to pen as they sat on the only two spare chairs in the room. He continued to write for another five minutes, which John monitored using the second hand on his wristwatch. Eventually the doctor sat back and blotted the page he’d been working on. Avoiding looking at them, he slowly and laboriously screwed the top on his fountain pen, removed his spectacles and finally – because he couldn’t delay any longer – turned to them.

  Judging by the difficulty the man appeared to have in focusing, John wondered if he could see them without his glasses, then he realised the doctor didn’t want to see them. He was keeping the interview as impersonal as possible because he had bad news and was stalling for time while he debated how to break it.

  ‘How is Helen?’ Jack began, unable to wait a moment longer.

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  John gritted his teeth – that damned phrase again.

  The doctor cleared his throat. ‘She was very ill when she was brought in; frankly, it was touch and go whether she’d survive. But although I’d advise caution, I am fairly optimistic that she will make a recovery.’

  ‘She will be all right?’ Jack urged, clearly unable to make much sense of what the doctor had said.

  ‘She is still poorly. I was told she was on honeymoon.’

  ‘We were returning home from London.’ Jack wondered what exactly the doctor meant by ‘poorly’. It sounded more like something Mrs Lannon would say than a professional.

  ‘You are aware that she was pregnant.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jack turned ashen as he realised the implication of the ‘was’.

  ‘She had a tubal pregnancy.’

  ‘I don’t understand, doctor,’ John said shortly, trying to force the man to explain the facts in language that he and Jack could comprehend.

  ‘The baby was developing in a fallopian tube outside the uterus. There was simply no way it could survive and by lodging in the tube it almost killed the mother. Her condition was acute by the time she reached here. She must have been in pain for hours. It would have been better if she had come in as soon as she was taken ill.’

  ‘You could have saved the baby?’ Even Jack’s lips were white.

  ‘The baby was never viable. But by coming in sooner she might have been spared considerable pain and discomfort.’

  ‘We were on a train.’ Jack took the doctor’s comments as criticism and wished he had listened to the porter and insisted they leave the train at Bridgend. ‘Was there anything we … I could have done to stop it from happening?’

  ‘Only brought her in sooner. That might have resulted in less radical surgery but it would not have affected the outcome. A small percentage of babies develop in the fallopian tubes outside of the uterus. We have absolutely no idea why and cannot predict or prevent it from happening.’

  ‘But she will make a full recovery.’ John willed the doctor to say something that would wipe the guilt-ridden expression from Jack’s face.

  ‘Clinically, given sufficient rest and care, and barring complications, that is the most likely scenario.’

  ‘There could be complications?’ John pushed.

  ‘None I can foresee. She was also suffering from uterus unicornis.’

  Jack turned to John, not the doctor.

  ‘We’re laymen, doctor. What does that mean?’ John demanded.

  ‘It means, Mr Griffiths, she had only one Fallopian tube. We had no choice but to remove it. As a result she will never have a child.’

  Bleak-eyed, Jack stared blankly at the wall above the doctor’s head.

  John was the first to recover. ‘Have you told her?’

  ‘Her condition is too acute for anyone to discuss it with her.’ The doctor rose to his feet and opened the door. ‘Your daughter will be hospitalised for approximately four weeks, Mr Griffiths.’

  John realised the doctor couldn’t wait to be rid of them but he also wanted answers to the questions he knew Jack would ask when he recovered from the initial shock. ‘Can we see her?’

  ‘There would be no point; she is still heavily sedated. But there is visiting this afternoon. Possibly then, sister will allow one visitor for a short time provided they take care not to upset the patient.’

  ‘Does my daughter know that she has lost her baby?’

  ‘No, apart from being barely conscious, as I said, she is far too ill for anyone to discuss her condition with her. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have patients to attend to. The nurse will see you out.’

  John drove straight from the hospital to the warehouse. ‘We need to sort a few things,’ he explained in answer to the confused look on Jack’s face. ‘There are too many people back at the house. All well-meaning, but
you need to make some decisions before you see them.’

  Jack followed him up to the office suite and sat on the sofa in the reception area. John joined him a moment later with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. ‘Just one,’ he poured out two measures. ‘We’ve both had a shock.’

  Jack drank it as if he were obeying orders. John realised his son-in-law was in a stupor and doubted much of what the doctor had said had registered.

  ‘Practical things first.’ John sat opposite him. ‘You’re going to need somewhere to live while Helen’s in hospital.’

  ‘I couldn’t live in the flat. It’s Helen’s. She chose everything. She was looking forward to using all the new things. I would mess it up.’

  ‘You can live upstairs with Joe and me. There’s three spare bedrooms in the attic if you don’t want to sleep in Helen’s room.’

  ‘I’d rather move back in with my brother.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ John conceded. ‘You’ll need company. And as for work …’

  ‘I might take an hour or two off if they let me visit Helen during the day, Mr Griffiths, but please don’t stop me from coming in here. I have to do something …’

  ‘Whatever you do, Jack, your job will be kept open for you. I didn’t get around to telling you, but it’s not only me that’s pleased with the progress you’ve made since you joined us. The stockroom manager was only saying last week how willing and quick to learn you are.’ John refilled both their glasses and screwed the top back on the bottle. Left to his own devices he might have been tempted to empty it, but there was visiting that afternoon – for Jack if not for him. And given his present state, Jack would need someone to drive him there. ‘You heard what the doctor said about not telling Helen she’s lost the baby.’

  ‘Or can’t have any more,’ Jack murmured wretchedly. He’d been offered a glimpse of something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted and just as he’d not only become used to the idea, but actually started to look forward to having a family of his own, it had been snatched away. That curse again. Him bringing grief and misery to everyone he loved.