by Paul Kelly
***
Laura arrived that evening at the hospital and Fern was surprised to see her. Her strong aromatic perfume filled his nostrils with fear and apprehension. He was never sure how Laura would react in any circumstance and the smile on her face told him that whatever she was thinking was not in his best interests, nevertheless she leaned forward with confident assurance of her welcome and kissed Fern on the cheek.
“Getting better?” she enquired and even as she spoke, Laura could see again the young man who had spurned her affections, and she still wanted him. She saw again that young fresh face looking solemnly at her in the lounge of the Manse and who had denied her suggestions with his silence. There was something about Fern that she had never seen in any other man, but she admitted he was slight of build and not like a strong, handsome ambulance man who had come into her life suddenly but there was a power there that drew Laura as a moth is drawn to the flame. She saw a strength that baffled and yet tormented her mind. She could not understand him but she wanted him, with an urgency that annoyed and frustrated her. It was like a spell over which she had no control. She hated Fern and yet she loved him simultaneously, as he gave her feelings that no man had ever given her before.
Fern looked calmly into her eyes as he pulled the bedclothes more firmly and closer around his chest.
“I am well,” he said briefly, and wished she would go away but Laura ignored the hostility. It was her nature to ignore what she did not want to accept and she carried on talking.
“I hear your friend, Pacelli is leaving the village soon and going to Rome,” she said with a hint of relief in her voice and Fern winced.
“His name is Spinelli ... FATHER Spinelli. He is a Catholic priest,” Fern replied coldly, but he did not feel compelled to correct her and add that it was the pope’s name that was Pacelli, as Laura threw her hands in the air light-heartedly.
“Pacelli, Spinelli, they’re all much of a muchness these foreigners, I think,” she went on fanning her face with her hat and Fern could feel an annoyance building up in his throat where he wanted to scream at her and tell her to go away ... to go home ... to go anywhere, but just to leave him alone. His stomach heaved nervously as his heart began to pound and he hoped she had not noticed the sadness that she had brought to him at that moment. That would satisfy her needs ... he felt sure of that …
“Will you miss him?” she antagonised wittingly and her instinct told her she had touched a nerve. Fern lay still. His heart beat faster. He wanted to remain silent but Laura was persistent.
“He’s quite a good looking man for a priest, I think, don’t you?” she remarked as she raised a cynical eyebrow as Fern reached for a handkerchief and coughed.
“I am a little tired and I would like to rest now,” he said but Laura disregarded his polite dismissal of her.
“That’s alright,” she said, “I’ll just sit here quietly and keep you company then, just like a little mouse, I’ll be.”
Fern wanted to be sick. She would not allow him his cherished solitude to indulge in his loneliness as she sat on, looking into space and occasionally shooting a glance at Fern as he lay so still and pale before her. His eyes were closed but he was aware of her presence. The stench of her perfume would not let him rest and his eyes ached to release the tears that filled them as his throat tightened causing his breathing to become restrained.
“Could you please leave now?”
Nurse Ritchie spoke as she had noticed the irregularity in Fern’s breathing and Laura rose from her seat and went towards the boy to kiss him.
“Could you please leave NOW?” The nurse’s request was her command, which came the second time and with more urgency, as Laura stared at her before she turned away; her contemptuous scowl showing her displeasure as she swept out of the ward and into the hospital corridor, with only the lingering aroma of her perfume remaining as the screens were swiftly pulled around Fern’s bed.
***
“Oh Hello there ...” Laura looked up as she stood outside the ward, fumbling with her handbag for her lip rouge. It was the voice that made her look twice. “It’s Mrs. Lockton, isn’t it ... the lady from the Manse?”
Laura smiled as she recognised the young man who stood before her in his smart grey uniform of the Ambulance Service.
“Do you remember me, Mrs. Lockton?” he asked ... and she paused.
“Yes, I think so ... vaguely,” she added, keeping her admirer in suspense. “Oh, aren’t you the ambulance man who came to the Manse for the flower arrangement party?” she said unable to refrain from making Gordon Barlow know that he was one of many that she had entertained that day. “Yes, I think I remember now, but please call me Laura. Mrs. Lockton sounds so formal, don’t you think?”
Laura didn’t want to be too evasive, nor too forgetful ... That was never her style and she hoped that her make-up was intact, knowing that it would be foolish to take a look in her mirror. That would make her interest too obvious. . . .
“Just visiting a patient from our Parish, you know ... “ she went on, pretending to be coy as she looked around to see if anyone else was standing near them in the hospital corridor. She wished she could remember his Christian name, if she could never forget the body ...but she couldn’t and it annoyed her. “Do you work at the hospital, Mr. er...”
“Oh call me Gordon ... please,” he smiled again as they began to speak simultaneously and then stopped and laughed.
“Is the patient improving?” he asked and his eyes moved from her face to her legs. Laura was flattered ... It was quite a while since someone had spoken to her as he did now and she had lost her manner of dealing with this particular chat line. Well, it was hardly the approach one would expect to a Vicar’s wife, was it …she thought, but she was still excited and didn’t want him to stop.
“Patient?” she asked ... Oh the patient? Why yes, soon be out and about again, I shouldn’t wonder ... in no time.” She hesitated and flushed as she stammered out her words. He smiled again and she loved it ... She loved everything she saw and hoped he wouldn’t hurry away on duty or anything like that where their conversation would come to an abrupt end, as quickly as it had started.
“I’m just on my way home ... Gordon, but,” she glanced about her again before she continued… “I have some spare time, if you’re going my way.”
Laura hated herself for what she had said, but she was in a corner and she was lonely, so she threw caution to the wind and forgot about Mrs.Gordon, whatever her bloody Christian name was ... but wished desperately that she could remember it... if only to further her acquaintance with her gorgeous husband ... but Gordon shifted uneasily where he stood.
“I’ve got to take a patient to Edinburgh ... Laura. Sorry, perhaps we can meet again?” he said and Laura’s face fell.
“Yes, yes, of course, we might do that.” she said but her response was bitter. “I’m rather busy these days, you know, what with the Women’s Guild and the flower arrangements to see to. You know what it’s like.”
“Oh yes, I know what it’s like ...” he replied and grinned as he raised his eyebrows in what could well have been a sign of rude sarcasm “ See you around then, eh?” he said, but Laura felt the scathing attitude in his last remark and she blushed, but as he walked away from her she studied his stride and her temperature wavered.
“See you around Gordon ... sometime,” she murmured hopefully as she walked towards the heavy front entrance doors, which led to the lawns, hoping that Gordon would change his mind and follow her ...But Laura Lockton walked home alone; her thoughts tormented, not by one young man ... but by two.
Chapter Forty
MISS HARRISON sadly but proudly arranged for the departure party for her beloved priest and everything she was and had went into the preparations, quietly and without fuss, but her heart was breaking in the silent demeanour of her efficient movements.
Father Roache had his own housekeeper and she was to accompany him to Bolarne, as it was found that Bolarne was a larger parish than the Bishop had first supposed and therefore Father Roache had to give up his own residence and live there. Miss Harrison would miss Bolarne for she had so many lovely memories of the place.
She hastened off to the hospital to see Fern when she had made her last details for the celebrations and he was delighted to see her, but he said nothing about his previous visitor… not through any intended effort but he just wanted to be happy in the company of Peter’s housekeeper.
“Hello, lovely lad,” she smiled to welcome him.
“Hello to you, lovely lass,” Fern replied and Miss Harrison threw her hands into the air, telling him that flattery would get him anywhere.
She told him of the party arrangements and Fern was delighted that his friend should have such a wonderful ‘send off’, but his heart echoed her sadness as he joined Miss Harrison in her anticipations of life without Peter ... and without Bolarne …just as Mr. Carswell appeared at the ward door as they were talking. He made his rounds from bed to bed until he reached Fern’s and nurse Ritchie asked Miss Harrison to leave for a few moments. Fern knew he would be ‘just a bit of a boy’ if Carswell examined him and hoped he would pass this time without the usual remark as Miss Harrison hovered nearby.
“How are you today, young man?” Mr. Carswell stroked his flabby chin as he spoke to Fern.
“I am feeling much better thank you,” Fern replied as the doctor studied the chart at the foot of the bed and continued to stroke his chin repeatedly, but Fern interrupted the therapeutic massage…
“Would it be possible for me to attend a party for Father Spinelli’s departure to Rome, Sir?” he asked and Miss Harrison suddenly appeared from behind the screen where she had been standing and stared in eager anticipation at the doctor, unconcerned for her intrusion. Mr. Carswell peeped over the top of his spectacles and deliberated again as he reviewed the chart and the Housekeeper waited and held her breath.
“Hmmm! When is the party?” he asked and Miss Harrison took her cue.
“It is to be held on Friday evening, Sir, about 7.0pm.and we could have Fern picked up and brought back to the hospital again, if you would agree,” she prompted and was inwardly delighted that Fern had asked, as she hoped the doctor would permit the visit, but equally afraid that he may well refuse.
“We’ll see... We’ll see.” Doctor Carswell continued his round followed by Ritchie and her junior and Miss Harrison returned to her chair by Fern’s bed where they laughed a lot together. The age gap meant nothing to them and they found no difficulty in conversation or in communication.
***
Miss Harrison removed her hat in the hall as she closed the front door behind her with her foot and she had hardly taken off her coat when the telephone rang.
“Hello, this is...” she said, but her conversation was cut short as a young excited voice came through.
“Miss Harrison, I can come... I can come to the party ...”
***
Peter made his way to the hospital unaware of the news that had been given to his housekeeper on the ‘phone. His heart was not in a party mood and he had relegated the festivities to the back of his mind.
“What have you been up to today?” he said as he jokingly pulled at Fern’s hair as he spoke and Fern was thrilled to see him and sat up in bed without much effort.
“See,” he said, “I am almost well again. I shall be coming home soon.”
Peter was delighted to receive such a hearty welcome and was pleased to see the obvious improvement in the boy’s condition.
“What brought all this on?” he mused.
“Miss Harrison ... Miss Harrison ... she ... she visited me this morning.” Fern gibbered on incoherently and was unable to tell the priest his good news, for the exuberant excitement that accelerated his speech.
“Hold on, hold on. I know she is a wonderful person but she seems to have worked a miracle here,” Peter said as he tried to calm Fern with his quiet announcement.
“She is wonderful, truly wonderful, Peter, Peter?”
Fern spoke imploringly to his friend ...trying to tell him his good news through his excitement and Peter wished in that moment he was just a man ... and not a man-priest ...
“Yes Fern?”
“I am coming to your party Peter... Doctor Carswell is allowing me to come home for it. I am so happy Peter,” he said, but he hid the sadness that engulfed his soul as he contemplated the departure of his friend.
Each man lived for the joy of the moment and would not permit the present to be tinged in any way with bitterness or sadness. Each heart sipped at the intoxicating wine but the vinegar sediment was still to come and as they talked together, Rome seemed very far away, and each savoured that moment in time to be the only one that mattered. Life was full of happiness and stolen happiness would be very much more enjoyed.
Peter limped back to the Presbytery.
***
The garden was richly green, but the blooms had faded only to leave a few pale and limp sad roses and the evening was cool as darkness closed in and Laura made her way from the art class to the Manse. Gordon Barlow had collected his wife and the same glancing ritual had taken place between the Vicar’s wife and the handsome young ambulance man, but Laura had a feeling of bitterness from their last meeting at the hospital and his wife being with him didn’t help. He could have made some excuse that day and found some time to be with her she thought, but from the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t lost interest and she looked away as he tried to catch her eye.
“Good evening Mrs Barlow,” she called out, purposely neglecting to notice her male escort and remembering the surname in the spur of that moment ... as if by accident ... that it might have jogged her memory and she ignored, with resentment, the smiles of her tantalizing admirer, “I hope you are well. The weather is splendid for this time of the year, don’t you think?” she went on and Mrs. Barlow smiled at her coldly while her husband moved nearer to where Laura was standing.
“Oh… Hello Mr.Barlow. Nice to see you,” Laura added as if she had only just noticed him. “What was the weather like in Edinburgh?” ... she asked as if to tantalize as she stared at Mrs. Barlow as she spoke and strong handsome Gordon, the ambulance man glanced furtively at his wife as Laura swept across the lawn and into the lounge of the Manse, closing the French doors behind her.
Stephen was sitting alone there on the floor with his legs sprawled out in front of him and with books piled high around him. He didn’t look at Laura as she passed, but continued to study his library on the floor, before selecting a book that he intended to read and she sighed contentedly, if somewhat smugly as she pushed her hair away from her face.
“Do you love me Laura?” Stephen spoke, without looking up and with an air of disinterest as he calmly turned a page in the book he was studying and Laura looked at him in surprise, ignoring his question, but he asked her again, looking up lazily from his book. “Well, do you…”
She laughed and threw her head in the air, glancing out towards the lawn and into the darkness.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I am going upstairs Stephen. I’m tired… d’you understand …I’ve had a hard day and I need to rest.”
Stephen grasped the message and stared into space across the lawn, as Gordon Barlow was leaving the grounds with his wife, trying unsuccessfully to assure her of his affections and opening the car door for her as she pushed moodily past him.
Stephen’s misery had reached its peak and there was nothing he could do about it… He wanted to die... He wanted to take his own life, but he was weak and particularly so for the action of suicide and he fell back against the legs of his chair as sleep overtook him and he began to breathe heavily. His book slithered from his knee and fell wi
th scattered pages across the carpeted floor.
Chapter Forty One
THE EVENING OF THE FAREWELL PARTY arrived at last and all the guests were excited but none more so than the ever faithful Miss Harrison as the car sped off to bring Fern from the hospital. Tom had taken along his kilt and accessories, so that he could go straight to the party and Fern was feeling very much better when they arrived to collect him. His cheeks were still a little pale, but his spirits were high and he had gained in weight. The nurses waved the car party good-bye as they sped off, but not before Nurse Ritchie had tucked a blanket around Fern’s knees. She knew that she should never utter the words that were in her heart; the words that played around her lips... but she did.
“Come back soon,” she whispered as she added the logic to her plea, “How ridiculous...How absolutely ridiculous.”
Fern knew he was to return to the hospital after the weekend, but he was not thinking along those lines as they made their way to the Presbytery hall... and to Peter. When they arrived, Peter came out to greet them. He could only wait for a few seconds as someone had come to the church for confession, however, Miss Harrison rushed towards Fern with her usual delight and fussed around him, neglecting the tea she had started to pour for the other visitors and it was nearly an hour before Peter appeared again. He apologised for his delay, as his assistant fellow priest had been otherwise detained and he looked strained, but his face bore the marks of the gentle handsome priest he was, smiling happily when he saw Fern and Miss Harrison observed him with affection as she reminded herself that Peter would never be anything but a priest. For this he was born and for this he would die... but she shuddered at her thoughts as she scanned the crowd looking again for the sight of a young man in blue tartan with a quiff of blonde hair falling over his dark eyes.