To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  ‘Whereas everyone knows that Ivywood is really run by you, Matt.’ Doctor von Herwath smiled down at the little man. It was the first time Mercy had ever seen him smile.

  ‘You’ve got it in one, me old mate.’ Matt winked again.

  ‘Well, Mrs Lisburne, will you join forces with me, and help me cope with the likes of Matt.’

  ‘So you are asking me at last, Doctor,’ she retorted. ‘Up till now you’ve been ordering me to help you.’

  ‘That’s telling ’im, missus!’ chuckled Matt.

  ‘You will come?’ persisted the doctor.

  Mercy relented. She knew she wanted to come to Ivywood. These people needed help. They were all so desperately sick, she could see that. But she did not know what she could do.

  ‘I’ve no nursing qualifications,’ she said.

  ‘You do not need them. We have enough nurses. I have another job for you. We will go to my office and discuss it.’

  Mercy sighed. ‘You’ve gone back to ordering me about again,’ she said.

  Doctor von Herwath gave a very Germanic bow.

  ‘Mrs Lisburne, would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to my office?’ he said.

  ‘There, what did I say? You’ve ’ad a good influence on him already,’ chortled Matt Thoms.

  ‘Sadly it didn’t last long,’ admitted Mercy ruefully, regarding the back of Gunther von Herwath as he strode from the room. ‘I suppose I must be grateful that he actually asked me. It would be wanting too much to expect him to wait for my reply. Goodbye for now, Mr Thoms.’

  ‘Cheerio, ducks. ’Is office is at the top of the stairs, if you don’t catch up with ’im.’

  It was as well the cheery little man had given her directions, for by the time Mercy reached the door there was no sign of the doctor. Mounting the stairs she found him in a small, cluttered office, already reading some notes. The door was open so she entered. He had not noticed that she had been left behind.

  ‘This is what I want you to deal with,’ he said, putting a sheaf of papers into her hand.

  She looked at the papers. The first was from the wife of a patient. She was in danger of being evicted because she was behind with her rent. She wanted to know how soon her husband could be released and get back to work. Another was from a man, desperate for advice because, while his wife was in Ivywood, he was finding it impossible to cope with going out to work and at the same time care for their five small children. The others were in a similar vein, people with problems because their loved ones had fallen sick and had to be admitted to Ivywood. It was all too painfully familiar. Memories of Fernicombe and the struggle to survive came flooding back.

  ‘It is a heart-rending collection,’ said Mercy quietly.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ agreed the doctor. ‘Such burdens would weigh down a fit person; you can imagine what they do to the gravely ill. You must deal with them!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Deal with them! That is to be your function here.’

  ‘How—’ Mercy began to protest in vain.

  ‘You are ideally suited for the job. We cannot pay you, of course, though a small part of our funds will be made available to help you in your work. You must see Miss Beech about that side of things.’ He opened a folder and began reading the contents, seeming to forget she was there.

  ‘Am I to presume that I am dismissed?’ demanded Mercy.

  ‘There is something else you wish to say?’ He appeared to be bewildered by her attitude.

  ‘Yes there is something I wish to say,’ she retorted. ‘I will work here. I will do the job you want, to the best of my ability. All I ask in return is a little more civility from you. Nothing much. Simply more requests and fewer commands.’

  ‘How will things ever get done?’

  ‘They’ll get done all right. You try it and see!’

  ‘Very well, I will try. You will begin on Monday…’ He almost smiled. ‘That was not a very good try, was it? Would you be kind enough to begin on Monday?’

  ‘No, I will not!’ said Mercy, her brisk tone matching his. ‘I will come every morning and I intend to begin tomorrow. Good day, Doctor von Herwath!’

  She left half expecting him to call after her with some further instructions. When he did not she permitted herself a satisfied smile – she had got the measure of Doctor Gunther von Herwath.

  For the entire journey home she wondered if she had been mad to accept. She had not the least notion of how to set about her new job. At the same time she was aware of excitement pulsing through her veins at the challenge which lay ahead. At last there was some purpose to her life! She wondered whether or not to tell Peter of her new occupation. Upon consideration she decided against it. He showed no interest in her activities these days, and besides, it was no concern of his.

  When she returned to the Villa Dorata Peter was not at home, anyway. The first to greet her was Rogers, with a letter. Recognizing Joey’s writing she ripped it open. It was brief and the very first words drove away the brightness of her day.

  ‘Dear Sis,’ Joey had written. ‘I thought you would want to know that Queenie lost the baby two days ago. She is well enough in herself, but down in the dumps, as might be expected. Your ever-loving brother, Joey.’

  So it had all been for nothing! Mercy knew that her first thoughts should have been for her sister-in-law, yet she could not help herself. All she could think of was that her brother had thrown away his future needlessly. She noted that he made no mention of his own reaction. The few terse lines betrayed nothing. Then she thought of Queenie – belatedly, to her shame. Poor devoted, adoring Queenie. The blow must have been devastating. From upstairs in the nursery came happy yells as John and William romped noisily. How would she have felt to have lost either of them?

  I’ll go to see Queenie tomorrow morning, she decided. I’ll take her something pretty, to cheer her up.

  Then she remembered that her morning was already occupied. Any visit to her sister-in-law would have to be in the afternoon. Upstairs John and William were still creating a racket. Mercy hurried to the nursery, consumed by an urgent need to see them and hold them – to reassure herself of their existence.

  Her first morning working at Ivywood was less hectic than she had feared. Miss Beech turned out to be invaluable, a mine of useful information.

  ‘I don’t know why I’m here! You could do this so much better yourself!’ Mercy exclaimed at last, fearing that she might have ousted the other woman from the job.

  ‘My dear, I have been attempting to do your job as well as my own for months now.’ Miss Beech’s eyes twinkled. ‘I found it quite impossible to do things thoroughly. Believe me, I am so relieved to have you with us.’

  ‘Good, I’d hate to be treading on anyone’s toes… Goodness, is that the time?’ Mercy stared at the clock in disbelief. At the Villa Dorata so often the hours went by painfully slowly, yet the entire morning at Ivywood had gone by in a flash.

  ‘So you have not been bored?’ Gunther von Herwath was standing in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve not had a chance. We’ve not stopped for a minute, have we, Miss Beech?’

  ‘We have not. You’ve found us a good worker, Doctor,’ replied Miss Beech, smiling.

  ‘Of course. You are not staying to have lunch with us, Mrs Lisburne?’

  ‘Regretfully, no.’ replied Mercy, securing her hat with a long pin. Doctor von Herwath regarded the frothy concoction of veiling and feathers.

  ‘A pity,’ he said. ‘That delightful creation you are wearing on your head would have cheered us all up.’ Then he walked away without another word.

  ‘Well I never!’ Miss Beech was quite astounded. ‘A compliment from the doctor. You are honoured, my dear.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Mercy regarded her reflection critically. ‘I’ve a strong suspicion he meant that this hat would give everyone a good laugh.’

  Miss Beech refused to be convinced.

  Mercy decided she did not have time to go home to eat
. Instead she lunched modestly at a small cafe, then went into Williams and Cox’s to buy a gift for Queenie. She chose a pink Shetland bedjacket as fine as a cobweb and bound with satin ribbon. It was by far the prettiest in the shop, though she honestly could not imagine Queenie wearing it. Remembering the awkwardness that her last floral offering had provoked she bought a basket of fruit instead.

  To her eyes the house in Church Street appeared even more dilapidated than before. Joey opened the door to her, and she thought he looked worn out.

  ‘Sis!’ His tired face lit up. ‘I didn’t expect you to call.’

  ‘I thought I’d just drop in and see how Queenie is getting on,’ she replied.

  ‘She’s taken it badly, poor soul.’ Joey dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I’m having the devil’s own job keeping her in bed. The doctor says she’s to stay there for another week at least, but she’s all for getting back to work. She’s worried that I won’t be able to cope on my own – she’s darned near right, too, only, I’ll not admit it to her. She’s not well enough to get up yet, she really isn’t.’

  ‘Couldn’t you get someone in to help for two or three weeks?’ asked Mercy, then immediately regretted her words.

  ‘I can get them right enough, it’s paying them that would prove troublesome,’ said Joey wryly. ‘Still, that’s enough of our problems. Come up and see Queenie.’

  He led the way up the uncarpeted stairs into an equally bare bedroom. Queenie was in the large double bed, propped up with pillows. She still looked ashen.

  ‘You’ve got a visitor,’ Joey announced. ‘Mercy’s come to see you, isn’t that nice?’

  ‘Oh yes, lovely!’ Queenie tried to echo her husband’s enthusiasm, but only succeeded in looking flustered. At the sight of Mercy, so expensively dressed and immaculate, her hand went at once to her hair which hung limply about her shoulders.

  ‘I’ve brought you some fruit.’

  Mercy balanced the basket on the bedside table. It looked exotic and out of place in these shabby surroundings. The bed jacket was no more successful. Queenie enthused about it, fingering the gossamer-fine wool with genuine pleasure, then after she had thanked Mercy she wrapped it up in its tissue paper again, and said that she would ‘keep it for best’.

  Mercy wondered what constituted ‘for best’. She feared the jacket would be consigned to a drawer and never see the light of day again.

  ‘Joey says you’ve to stay in bed for another week,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, that’s just him fussing.’ Queenie gazed at her husband, her eyes holding all their old mute adoration.

  ‘It isn’t only me who’s fussing, it’s the doctor too,’ said Joey firmly. ‘So you’re staying there until he says you can move!’

  ‘But you’ve far too much to do, you’re looking worn out. He is, isn’t he?’ Queenie appealed to Mercy.

  ‘He’ll manage!’ Mercy assured her.

  Queenie shook her head. ‘It’s not right, you having to do so much just because I let you down…’ The tears welled up and began to trickle from her eyes.

  ‘You haven’t let me down, you silly girl,’ Joey patted her shoulder gently. ‘We’ve had a bit of bad luck, that’s all. But you’re not to make things worse by getting up too soon. You could ruin your health that way, and then where would we be, eh?’

  Queenie wiped her face with the back of her hand and nodded. Mercy could not help noticing that though Joey was gentle and kind his behaviour towards his wife held no sign of love. Nor did he mention the hope of other children in the future. It was such a glaring omission she wondered if Queenie had noticed it too. Then she looked at her sister-in-law, and saw the sad despair in her face.

  Mercy felt desperately sorry for the unhappy young woman lying there in the bed. She wished she could help, but she could only offer practical assistance. There was no question of her giving them money, she knew better than that. Then she remembered one of the letters she had read that morning at Ivywood, an appeal for help that had clearly been penned with great effort, on cheap paper.

  ‘Once Queenie is on her feet it’s going to be a while before she gets her strength back,’ she pointed out. ‘Ideally, what you need is someone reliable to come and live in for a month, or six weeks, or even longer.’

  ‘Oh yes! Ideally! It would solve all our problems,’ Joey agreed ruefully.

  ‘Don’t be so sarcastic!’ She gave her brother a playful prod. ‘It just so happens I think I can be of help. I’ve just started assisting at one of the chest clinics. We had a letter from the mother of one of the patients, a Mrs Baxter. Her only son is in the clinic, and likely to be so for a long time. She’s up in London and can’t afford to come and see him, so she wrote pleading with us to find her some work in this area.’

  ‘I don’t see how that would help us,’ said Joey. ‘Well, if she came here it would be ideal. She’d have work, she could live in, and, with her son just a few miles down the road she could see him regularly. It’s perfect.’

  ‘And what about the little matter of wages?’

  ‘They’d be taken care of, from a fund at the clinic.’ She was not being absolutely truthful, for her plan was to pay the woman’s wages herself. To her relief Joey failed to notice anything amiss.

  ‘There’s got to be a snag,’ he insisted.

  ‘Only that she might refuse to come, though I think it’s unlikely.’ The letter had been so desperate, the young man was so ill! ‘I will write tonight. Can I promise her that she’ll have ample time off to visit her son?’

  ‘That you can! It still seems too good to be true.’

  As Joey showed her out he looked more cheerful, and Mercy felt a sense of achievement. If everything went well she would have helped her brother and made a start in her new job, all in one fell swoop. She was not sure which pleased her the most.

  On this occasion she was lucky. Mrs Baxter accepted both the post and the rail fare with gratitude, and was settled in at Church Street in an incredibly short time.

  ‘Miss Beech informs me you have had a success already,’ said Doctor von Herwath. ‘You have found a place for Mrs Baxter. That is very commendable. How did you achieve such a miracle?’

  ‘Sheer luck. I happened to know someone who needed some live-in help.’ It was no more than the truth, but Mercy felt uncomfortable beneath the German’s unwavering gaze.

  ‘It is good that Mrs Baxter will be with her son. I am afraid they have very little time left together.’

  ‘I had no idea!’

  ‘Sadly it is a situation one must become accustomed to here,’ said the doctor. ‘We can only bring as much comfort as possible, and this you have achieved. You have done well.’

  Mercy began to feel quite gratified at this praise, until he added, ‘But, Mrs Lisburne, I hope you do not propose to finance all your successes personally. Splendid as it would be, I think Mr Lisburne might protest and take you away from us.’

  Mercy was dismayed. ‘I didn’t… I only… How did you find out?’

  ‘Simply by looking in the account book. If I may make a suggestion, when you write up your report for our trustees I think that against “Finances” you should simply put “Made private arrangements”. It will save complications when the auditors come.’

  Mercy laughed, relieved that he wasn’t angry. ‘That’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘I shall certainly do that.’

  ‘Good. You don’t have to prove your worth to me, you know. I am convinced that you are capable of carrying out the tasks allotted to you.’

  It took a moment for the meaning of his words to penetrate. ‘You think I have deliberately organized things, so that I appear successful?’ she demanded.

  ‘It would be understandable.’

  ‘I don’t care whether it’s understandable or not. That’s not how it was! And if you have such a low opinion of me then there’s no point in us trying to work together.’

  She would have stalked out, but he caught her arm.

  ‘I am sorry
,’ he said.

  She stopped in sheer surprise. It was the first time she had heard him apologize for anything.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he repeated. ‘To have thought such a thing was unworthy.’

  She paused. ‘Perhaps I was a little hasty. To be honest, in finding a place for Mrs Baxter, I did have an ulterior motive. I wanted to help someone close— Oh, if you must know, my young brother is in difficulties. He has no money and now his wife is ill. I know he would never have accepted any financial help from me, but I wanted to do something for him. Mrs Baxter gave me the ideal opportunity.’

  She was not quite sure why she had confided the facts to him. With trepidation she waited for him to give some sharp response. But all he said was, ‘Jimmy Baxter will have his mother near him now. That is my only concern. I feel I must warn you, though, that you may not find the other cases of hardship among the patients’ families quite so easy to solve.’

  ‘I’ve already discovered that,’ she admitted with a rueful grin. ‘Nevertheless, I’ll keep trying.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I expected nothing less.’

  Mercy soon found that her new job took up far more time than the few hours she had originally allowed for it. It became a challenge for her to find a solution to each problem presented to her, to give some help to each patient in trouble. In a few short weeks her life changed completely. Instead of having long empty hours to fill she had not a spare minute. Working with Doctor von Herwath was a constant battle. He was difficult and impatient, wanting things done at impossibly short notice, getting angry when they were not, yet she could not help admiring him. The harder he worked, the harder he expected those under him to work. It was difficult keeping up with his boundless energy and his standards of perfection in everything. But Mercy, swept along by his energy, found herself striving all the harder because of his influence. His tall, lean figure, always active, always restless, became the focus of her day.

  At first Peter did not seem to notice any difference in Mercy’s daily routine. They scarcely saw each other, anyway. However, one day, when they chanced to lunch together he remarked, ‘Have you quarrelled with Charlotte?’