by Joanna Toye
‘Good morning, madam. May I help you?’
It turned out she wanted almost a complete wardrobe of boy’s clothes. It was unusual, but it did happen – maybe the child was being sent away to relatives. Together Lily and Miss Temple had begun assembling the pile on the counter, but when the woman came to pay and produced her book of coupons, things started to look fishy. The coupon book was grubby and crumpled. It looked as though it had passed through many hands – thieving hands perhaps; there was an active market in stolen coupons. Up close, too, the customer wasn’t the usual Marlows breed. Her fur coat was a mangy thing, almost bald in places, and her shoes were down at heel. There was nothing wrong with that in itself – some of the poshest people in the district, the gentry almost, had fallen on hard times since the start of the war. Their houses had been taken over by the military or for hospitals and they’d been reduced to living in the lodge or the old keeper’s cottage. Their tweeds were shabby, their fur coats moth-eaten, but their shoes were always polished to a shine – one had standards, after all – and they kept their air of refinement in the way they held themselves and the way they spoke. This woman had none of that. She seemed shifty and nervous. Lily had the nasty feeling she’d been put up to it by someone. She was about to call Miss Frobisher when she saw her approaching anyhow. Lily excused herself and went to intercept her, to explain the situation out of the customer’s hearing.
‘Miss Frobisher, I’m glad you’re here. Could you possibly—’
‘You need to go, Miss Collins,’ said Miss Frobisher abruptly.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘We’ve had a telephone call. Your mother’s been taken ill.’
‘Mum? Ill?’
Lily was astounded. Dora was never ill. A cold, a sore throat, a bit of indigestion … honey and lemon, glycerin and thymol and a bottle of soda mints were the only medicines she ever kept in the house.
‘I don’t know the details,’ said Miss Frobisher, ‘but they’ve taken her to hospital.’
Lily’s eyes widened and she almost swayed.
‘Hospital?’
‘Off you go. I’ll take over with your customer.’
‘Th-thank you,’ stuttered Lily. ‘Yes. Er … thank you.’
The mangy coat and the tatty book of coupons went right out of her head. Lily was in such a state that she even started in the wrong direction, towards the main staircase that she’d climbed with her mum just the other week. It was only when she passed Lingerie that she realised where she was. She quickly backtracked, almost stumbling towards the double doors to the back stairs used by staff. From then on, she took everything at a run, scrabbling her things out of her locker, completely forgetting to sign out at the timekeeper’s office, and realising only as she ran towards the hospital – she couldn’t have stood the wait for a bus – that she hadn’t told Jim. Maybe Miss Frobisher would. Maybe, maybe … but Dora ill? What sort of ill? What could it be?
At the hospital she flung herself through another set of double doors, almost colliding with a nurse pushing a wheelchair, gabbling to the girl on the reception desk that her mother had been admitted, and where could she find her? As the girl checked interminable lists and made a phone call, Lily almost hopped up and down in frustration. Where had it happened? Who had telephoned? How had they known who to contact? Had Dora managed to tell them?
Finally the girl had an answer for her. Mrs D. Collins was ‘in theatre’, that’s why she’d been hard to track down. She directed Lily to the Surgical Ward, where, she said, Dora would be taken after her operation.
An operation … Dora, who’d never been near a doctor for years, let alone been in hospital!
Lily charged up two flights of stairs. At the top she followed the signs until, on a chair in the corridor, she saw Jean Crosbie.
‘Jean!’
Jean stood up at once.
‘Oh hello, love, I’m glad you’re here. Kenny got through then, to the shop.’
‘Kenny?’
Lily seemed unable to do anything except repeat what people had said. It was as if her brain had completely stopped working.
‘He was with her when it happened. Collapsed in the yard, she did. He was the one who called the ambulance.’
‘Collapsed?’
She was at it again.
‘It’s all right. By the time the ambulance got there, I was back from my shopping. I came in with her. She wasn’t on her own.’
‘No … good. Have they said what it is?’
‘Appendix, they think.’
Lily struggled not to repeat ‘appendix’ too.
‘I see … well, that’s not too serious, is it?’
‘Doesn’t have to be, no,’ said Jean, but something in her voice made Lily suspicious.
‘But …?’
‘To take her like that, sudden, in awful pain she was, Kenny said … well, I’m sorry, love, but it sounds like it might have gone bad, you see. Burst.’
Lily was beginning to feel rather sick herself. ‘That’s not good, is it?’
‘I’m sure she’s in good hands.’
Lily put her own hand out to the wall to support herself. Her legs weren’t working too well either.
‘Oh Jean,’ she said. ‘Mum … so ill … I can’t take it in.’
Jean patted her on the shoulder. She wasn’t the motherly sort, but her worn face was kinder than Lily had ever seen it.
‘Now, Lily, you mustn’t take on so. Your mum’ll need you to be strong.’
Lily bit her lip, but she nodded and straightened her shoulders.
At that moment, the lift door at the end of the corridor opened and a porter emerged, pushing a bed. A nurse was walking beside it holding up a drip. In the bed was a pale white figure, lying very still.
Lily ran towards them.
‘Mum!’
But the nurse frowned and motioned her to stand back as the little party passed them and went through into the ward.
‘I’ll be off now,’ said Jean, with rare tact. She touched Lily’s arm. ‘I’m sure she’ll be all right, love. She’s in the best place.’
Lily nodded mutely, then pushed through the doors into the ward.
They were positioning Dora’s bed in the corner nearest the door, close to the nurses’ little office. The ward sister, supervising the procedure, gave Lily a stern look.
‘No visitors until two,’ she said crisply. ‘Who are you? Who have you come to see?’
‘I’m her daughter …’ said Lily faintly. ‘Mrs Collins’s daughter. I’ve just arrived. Please can you tell me what’s going on?’
‘One moment.’
The sister satisfied herself that the bed was at an exact right angle to the back wall and that the locker was dead straight against it. She checked the drip on the stand and took Dora’s pulse, writing it on the chart at the end of the bed. Then she signalled to Lily to step into the office.
‘Peritonitis,’ she said, without preamble. ‘It should never have got to that stage. Has she been complaining of stomach pains? Any bouts of sickness?’
‘No …’ said Lily, then she thought. It hadn’t just been that time with that horrible oily fish – the snoek. Dora had often been eating a bit less at mealtimes, passing her leftovers to Jim. Lily had caught her a few times swallowing a couple of soda mints or a spoonful of bicarb. ‘That is … maybe. I think she thought it was indigestion.’
‘Grumbling appendix, more like,’ said the sister. ‘And this is what happens if it’s ignored. Severe pain, and an emergency operation.’
Lily’s legs felt weak and she felt for the chair behind her.
‘Emergency? It’s serious then?’
‘She’s not well,’ the sister said plainly. ‘We caught it in time, the doctor says, just about, but I’m afraid I can’t pretend her condition isn’t serious. It’s all going to depend on the next few days.’ She stopped and looked at Lily. ‘Are you her only family?’
‘Er, no, but …’ Her voice shook. ‘The only one that’
s here. In Hinton, I mean.’
‘I see. Well, we won’t be able to tell you much more today. She’ll be very groggy when she comes round and she needs complete rest. You can telephone in the morning.’
‘I can’t leave her!’
‘There’s nothing you can do for her,’ said the sister, sounding a little kinder. ‘You’ve had a shock, dear. Go home and get yourself a cup of tea. You need it.’
Bemused, Lily let herself be ushered away; her last sight of her mother was of Dora’s still, white face against the snowy pillow.
Outside in the corridor she sagged against the wall. She had to get a grip. She had to tell Sid … He’d want to know; he might be able to come up. But should she tell Reg or wait until there was better news? Assuming it would be better … There was nothing he could do, anyway. Nothing any of them could do. Dora, her recovery – her life maybe – was in the hands of the doctors now.
Steeling herself, Lily walked towards the stairs; her legs were so jelly-like she didn’t trust herself not to fall. In the little glass porthole of the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection and an image flashed into her mind of her mother in Marlows, trying on her new hat, so proud and pretty, Lily holding up the mirror for the back view, her mother’s face reflected three ways. Oh dear Lord, the wedding! They couldn’t have it now!
Chapter 27
Lily went home. What else could she do? She had to collect herself before she went to the telephone box to try to get a message to Sid, but as she put her key in the lock – it saved time to use the front door for once – it opened and there was Kenny in the hall.
‘I didn’t like to leave the place unlocked with no one in, and I didn’t know if you had a key, seeing as the back door’s always open,’ he explained as Lily followed him numbly through to the back room.
She sank into a chair. All her mother’s things were there – her sewing machine, her basket of mending, her knitting, her Woman’s Weekly, open at a recipe she’d told Lily she was going to try, her coat and scarf on the back of the chair, ready, no doubt, for the tiresome daily trip to the shops. Lily closed her eyes. She couldn’t give in to tears.
‘You were with her,’ she said to Kenny. ‘You called the ambulance and got her to hospital. Thank you.’
‘She’s going to be all right, you know.’ Kenny dropped to his knees beside her chair and briefly put his hand, his only hand, on hers. Lily looked at him. He had nice eyes when you looked at them properly. Greenish and grey at the same time.
She nodded. She knew they were both thinking the same thing, though for different reasons. Dora had to be all right. For Lily because she was her mum, and for Kenny because of his friend, the one who had died.
‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’ he asked, but before Lily could reply, the back door crashed open, there were footsteps in the kitchen, and there was Jim.
Kenny got to his feet.
‘Hello, Jim. I’ll leave you to it.’
Lily stood up and Jim folded her in his arms. Neither of them heard or saw Kenny go as he closed the back door quietly behind him and stopped to pat Buddy in the yard.
Later, after she’d cried and cried, Jim went to telephone Sid at the Admiralty. Sid wasn’t at his desk. ‘On a training course’ they said, but they promised to get a message to him. Jim also phoned the hospital again, even though they’d been told not to, only to hear that there was ‘no change’ in Dora’s condition.
‘That’s good,’ he tried to reassure Lily when he got back. ‘She’s not taken a turn for the worse.’
Lily put the heel of her hand to her head. It ached.
‘You do realise, Jim …’ she began.
‘The wedding’s off,’ he said. ‘I’ll cancel everything.’
‘It’s not off,’ said Lily quickly. ‘But we’ll have to postpone it.’
‘Of course.’ Jim moved her gently out of the armchair so he could sit in it, and pulled her onto his knee.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be daft. We’ll wait till your mum’s better. Fully better, I mean. So that she – and we – can all enjoy it properly.’
Lily sniffed.
‘She has to get better, Jim, she has to! And I feel so bad. I’ve been so wrapped up in us – in myself – for months that I ignored the signs!’
‘No, you didn’t,’ said Jim. ‘And if you did we all did, your mum included. She didn’t let us see.’
‘That’s because she puts everyone else first, you know what she’s like.’
‘I do. She must like it that way.’
Lily shook her head.
‘If anything happens to her I’ll never forgive myself. But it can’t … I can’t imagine life without her.’
‘You won’t have to.’
‘She’s just … she’s always been there, always been … just Mum. I thought she always would be. I took it all for granted. I tell you, Jim, I’m going to appreciate her better in future if I get the chance!’
‘And you will. Get the chance I mean.’
Lily sighed. Jim’s own mother had died back in 1942, but she’d been ill for a while after a stroke and their relationship had been nothing like Lily’s with Dora. And it wasn’t just mother and son versus mother and daughter. Sid’s, even Reg’s, relationship with their mum was far closer than Jim’s had been with the embittered woman who’d resented her only son’s move to the town, had never taken to Lily, and had made both of those things plain.
By now, the whole day had passed and it was getting dark. Jim made them something to eat and forced Lily to swallow it – not that she could taste anything. She realised she’d never asked how he’d come to be at home in the middle of the day, but Jim said Miss Frobisher had told him he could go.
‘I’ll go in tomorrow but she said she doesn’t expect to see you for the next couple of days,’ he explained. ‘So we’ll phone the hospital in the morning and you should be able to visit in the afternoon. You ought to be here, anyway. If the Admiralty’s as efficient as I hope they are – else how have we got this far in the war – then Sid will probably send a wire. Or he may even turn up!’
Lily nodded. She was so wrung out she couldn’t form any more words, not even of thanks to Miss Frobisher for Jim to relay.
‘You’re exhausted,’ he said. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
There was something in the way he said it that made Lily look up.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get in your bed tonight and sleep with you. Next to you.’
‘You mean …’
Jim took her face in his hands.
‘We should have been married in less than a week, Lily, so it’s hardly a carnal sin. But we won’t do anything. I just want to be with you. I’ll hold you till you fall asleep, OK?’
Lily fell against him. ‘Oh Jim. I do love you!’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know.’
‘It’ll all look better in the morning’ was one of Dora’s favourite sayings. She was so often right, and she was right this time as well – to a degree.
When Lily woke she couldn’t at first work out what was going on. There was an unaccustomed weight pressing on her ribcage and she was warm, much warmer than she usually was in the chill of the early mornings at this time of year. Then she realised that the weight was Jim’s arm and the warmth was coming from his body. She even smiled to herself before she remembered why he was there and yesterday’s terror gripped her again.
She wriggled out of his arm and sat up. Jim rolled onto his back and opened his eyes.
‘Good morning,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ said Lily shyly.
It had been a squash and a squeeze, the two of them in her single bed, but fitting themselves in with a degree of comfort had made them both laugh – something Lily had thought she’d never do again. It wasn’t how they’d planned to spend their first-ever night together. That should have been on honeymoon, during which their double bed would arrive and be installed in Lily’s room. As Furniture departme
nt supremo, Jim knew that newlyweds, or about to be, qualified for first dibs on Utility furniture, and how to go about getting a permit from the Ministry for Fuel and Power. They’d chosen light oak with slatted ends so that Jim, being tall, could stick his feet through the gaps. They’d been approved and the bedstead and mattress had duly arrived in Marlows’ warehouse. Now that was something else that Jim would have to put on hold.
Jim squinted at his watch.
‘Time for a cuddle?’ he said.
It was barely seven o’clock. She couldn’t phone the hospital yet. Lily snuggled down again.
It was a risk. She knew how much Jim wanted her – she wanted him too, badly, and they’d come close on a couple of occasions. But at the same time – and they’d talked about this – they both wanted to hold off till they were married. Now it would mean an even longer wait.
Jim wrapped his arms round her again and she stroked his chest where the springy hairs poked up out of his pyjama jacket. He kissed her forehead and then the top of her head and gave a little sigh. Lily kissed the hollow at the base of his throat.
‘I’m sorry, Jim,’ she said. ‘We can’t. It wouldn’t feel right. Not while I’m thinking about—’
‘Shh,’ he said. ‘It’s OK.’
They lay there for a while, then Jim said he should get up if he was going to get to work, and Lily slipped out of bed and down to the privy, leaving Jim to get up and get dressed in private. They were both cleaning their teeth together at the kitchen sink when there was a tremendous knocking at the front door. Could it be Sid already?
It wasn’t, but it was the next best thing – a telegram.
ARRIVE 2.30. SEE YOU AT HOSPITAL. CHIN UP. SID
The cavalry was on its way.
Lily left the house with Jim when he set off for work. He squashed in the telephone box with her while she called the hospital to hear that her mother was ‘stable’ – again, he said, a good sign. Then he kissed her and rushed off to Marlows while Lily made her way back home, to wash up the breakfast things and make the bed, take the swill bucket down to the pig bin and bring in the washing which was stiff on the line from yesterday – a pitiful reminder of the interruption to Dora’s routine. As she dropped it into the basket, shivering in the chilly March air, Lily realised she’d have to do some ironing. Jim would need his shirt in the morning, and she’d better walk poor Buddy, and go to the shops – they were almost out of bread …