Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  ‘I haven’t really decided – it’s only for a couple of days…’

  He picked up his hat, said, ‘Go with him,’ and left. I felt very cold.

  Robbie would not let me accompany him to Millbank. ‘I don’t want to look the kind of fool who’s always tied to some woman’s apron strings – no, you go and have a nice stroll round the shops and I’ll see you later.’

  It was much later when I heard John letting him in. I jumped up, but he ignored my greeting as he came into the morning room; he went straight to the side table, opened the cigarette box and took one out. As he snapped the lighter I said, ‘Robbie – no – they’ll make you worse again.’

  He turned and looked at me with the lighted cigarette in his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter now, Hellie – it’s not going to make one iota of difference.’

  ‘But…’ Then I looked at his face and understood. ‘No, Robbie – no!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Hellie – I’ve been driving around for hours wondering if I’d got the courage to keep it from you – but I haven’t. Besides, you’d only guess – just as Eddie would have guessed if he’d still been alive – but he isn’t.’

  I said desperately, ‘You must have misunderstood – medical terms are so confusing – I should have come with you…’ My voice trailed away as I saw the expression in his eyes.

  ‘Helena, you listen pretty carefully when a man’s delivering your death warrant. Besides, he spelled it out very thoroughly, showed me the X-rays, the lot. Apparently it was a miracle I survived at all after what that shell did to me. He said some surgeon at the CCS performed “heroic surgery” – those were the words he used, “heroic surgery” – they opened my chest up to get the shrapnel out – even dug a piece of the bloody stuff out the heart muscle itself – Christ, I wish they’d never bothered! I could have gone out then, clean and finished, instead of hanging on as a bloody cripple for a couple of years and then having to face it in cold blood.’ He drew at his cigarette again and began to cough.

  When he had stopped I demanded, ‘Tell me exactly what he said, Robbie – every word – there might be some chance.’

  He leant back in his chair and said quite calmly, ‘Colonel Thompson thinks it’s probably the lung infection that’ll finish me off – he said I’ve got a chronic abscess, low down – it’s boiled over twice already, you know that. Well, next time, or perhaps the time after… He shrugged.

  ‘But – an operation –’

  ‘They can’t operate on something like this, it would only speed things up – besides, my other lung’s so shot to pieces I’d never stand an anaesthetic. I asked, Hellie – God, I’d be willing to take any risk, but apparently they aren’t – he said I wouldn’t get a surgeon in the whole country to touch me, it’d be murder.’

  ‘Drainage then’ – I was becoming frantic – ‘they can drain it, under a local anaesthetic – I nursed men like that.’

  ‘They did drain me, Hellie – for weeks – you were still in France. But that was outside the lung; this is inside, so they can’t do a thing. Besides, I might as well tell you the whole story while I’m at it – they think my heart’s been affected by the infection as well – one of the valves is practically gone - so it’s heads the lungs get me, tails the heart. You can lay bets on it if you want to – but you’ll have to collect against my estate, I won’t be around to pay up.’

  ‘Robbie – ’

  His face twisted. ‘I’m sorry, Big Sis – but it’s the only way I can talk about it. Like when you’re in the front line – you have to joke or you’d be finished. And Hellie, I don’t want anybody else to know – it’ll be our secret, right? And we won’t talk about it after today.’

  I whispered, ‘Yes, Robbie.’ But I had to ask, ‘Did they say – how long?’

  My brother stared out of the window. ‘It could be months – but not years. The Colonel said I’d have “time to put my affairs in order”.’

  I felt bitter anger against this unknown, faceless doctor. ‘He should never have told you!’

  ‘But I asked him, Hellie – I asked him point blank. I’ve had a feeling, you see – I knew something was wrong. I hoped he’d tell me it was nothing that wouldn’t eventually improve – but he didn’t. Look, why don’t we go to the theatre tonight? Nothing highbrow – something that’ll make us laugh.’

  I barely slept all night and in the morning I told Robbie we must get a second opinion.

  He shook his head. ‘It’ll be a waste of time – Thompson’s a good man – one of the best when it comes to battle injuries.’

  ‘Please, Robbie – doctors do make mistakes.’

  He gave in at last, but only to please me, and the report was exactly the same. So the day after, we went back to Hatton together. On the train Robbie said suddenly, ‘I wish Conan were here.’

  I looked at my brother – we had only had those scribbled postcards. ‘He couldn’t do anything.’

  ‘Not for me, no. But although he can be a wild so-and-so at times, he’d never let you down, Hellie, I know that.’

  I supposed that was true. But at the moment all I could feel was overwhelming relief that I had not gone to China with Conan; at least I was here with Robbie now.

  When we got back I began to sleep on the bed in his dressing room, otherwise life went on as normal. One night when I looked in on him after he had gone to bed I suggested, tentatively, that perhaps I should write to Guy. Robbie shook his head decisively. ‘Guy’s always been a pretty decent elder brother, but I don’t want two of you hanging around looking at me as though I were an ox waiting for a particularly messy slaughter.’

  The blood rose in my face as I said with difficulty, ‘I’m sorry Robbie, I don’t mean to.’

  ‘Oh, blast my wretched tongue – I should never have said that. Hellie, I’m sorry!’ He seized my hand and pulled me to his side. ‘It’s just that you look so sad sometimes. But I couldn’t do without you, you know I couldn’t.’ I stood beside him, with his warm hand clasping mine, then he slowly released it and said, his voice studiedly casual, ‘By the way, Hellie, I had quite a chat with Craig last week, while you were out riding. He was a damned good MO in France you know – he was with old Teddy’s battalion for a while, and Teddy thought very highly of him – I remember his saying once he admired a doctor who had the guts to reach for the morphia and let his conscience go hang.’

  And now I realized what he was trying to tell me – I remembered Young Lennie – but my brother, my little brother!

  ‘No, Robbie – no!’

  But his face was tired and old in the lamplight as he looked up at me. ‘I’m sorry, Hellie – but I think I used up all my courage in the war. I used to keep telling myself, if I can only hang on until it’s all over, then I’ll be all right. But it is over, and I’m not all right, am I? I keep feeling as if I’m going to choke – and this damn pain, it’s getting too much for me. Each time I get nearer to losing control, and I think, if it’s like this now, what will it be like when it finally happens? So I asked Craig outright, and he didn’t mince his words. If I’m lucky my heart’ll go first, and it’ll be pretty quick – I won’t know much about it – but if I’m not lucky – well, it’ll be bloody unpleasant coughing up my lungs. So I told him I’d rather not leave it to luck, and he agreed right away. I don’t want to go out screaming and cursing if I know he’s coming then perhaps I can hang on.’ I could not speak. But Robbie had not finished yet. ‘I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you all week, Hellie – he’ll only do it if you swear to keep your mouth shut – obviously you’d know. And it means we can’t get a nurse in, either but he said you should be able to cope, after spending so long in the base hospitals.’ He paused. ‘But, Hellie - you can say no, if you want to.’ But I saw the pleading in his eyes.

  I swallowed, and then said quite clearly, ‘I swear to keep my mouth shut, Robbie. You can tell him in the morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Big Sis.’

  I had to break the silence, so I tried t
o make my voice light. ‘Goodness – all this talk about coping – when I’ve only got one patient! Why, you’re talking to a woman who had forty men under her sole command night after night – you won’t dare to disobey me – when I’ve got my apron on I can outdo Catherine the Great herself!’ Robbie looked at me with a startled expression, and then, incredibly, he began to laugh. ‘Oh, Hellie, Hellie,’ he managed to gasp, ‘history never was your strong suit, was it? Don’t you know that Catherine the Great – well, compared with her, our late lamented King Edward was a celibate monk. She supplied Poland with kings for years – from her discarded lovers!’

  ‘Oh no, Robbie! But that was one of my favourite jokes when I wanted to get the men to go to bed at night.’

  Robbie lay back and wiped his eyes. ‘Helena, you are priceless sometimes. Well, we’ll just have to trust that Russian history isn’t on the syllabus of the council schools. But I hope you never made that joke in front of Holden – I found him once in the sergeants’ mess on the last volume of Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, and he told me he read every history book he could get his hands on – said it gave him a sense of proportion.’

  I smiled back at my brother. ‘I expect I did, you know – but Ben would be far too polite to even think about such a thing.’

  Robbie grinned up at me. ‘Go on, he’s only human – I expect his tough little Lancashire heart went pitter patter for weeks afterwards, every time he saw you coming up the ward!’ I bent down and pretended to box his ears, and heard him still chuckling to himself as I left him.

  The following afternoon Dr Craig called and asked to speak to me. As soon as Cooper had closed the library door behind us the doctor reached into his pocket and brought out a pill bottle. He held it out to me. ‘My lady, your brother spoke to me this morning. You’d better keep these safe somewhere, under lock and key.’ His manner was as brusque as ever. ‘They’d best be here ready when I need them. There’s a hypodermic upstairs already.’

  I had difficulty in keeping my hand steady as I took the glass tube from him. ‘Thank you, Dr Craig. How do you think he is today?’

  He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. ‘As well as can be expected – what do you want me to say? You can relay the usual platitudes to Lord and Lady Pickering.’ He turned and stalked out, his red hair on end.

  I carried the bottle upstairs as though it were a live grenade, and locked it away in the dressing room. When I came down again Robbie asked, ‘Did he give them to you?’ I nodded and turned away, but not before I had seen the relief on his face.

  At dinner that evening Mother said, ‘I gather Dr Craig called to see you this afternoon, Helena – and that you saw him alone. Please remember that it doesn’t do to treat the man as though he were a social equal – especially as it’s rumoured he’s some sort of socialist.’

  Letty looked up from her plate in interest. ‘But in that case he is our social equal, in his eyes, that is.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Letty.’

  ‘No, Mother, you’re failing to understand a basic philosophical concept – what we believe and what Dr Craig believes are two quite separate things…’

  They wrangled on, Mother’s voice becoming higher and sharper while Letty adopted a tone of exaggerated reasonableness which was calculated to raise the temperature even further. My father sat watching with a small, satisfied smile: it was ironic that only Letty, of all her children, dared to cross my mother. I looked over at Robbie, but it was clear from his withdrawn expression that he had shut his ears to them. I tried to do the same.

  The following day Ben Holden came. Robbie and I were sitting in the small drawing room together, just the two of us. I had played and sung all morning. I sang to Robbie a lot now – he liked me to, and that way we did not notice so much his increasing shortness of breath. After lunch he had stretched out on the sofa and gone to sleep; neither of us slept much at night now. Elsa Gehring had been right, when she had taught me to sing softly – though it was not the bedroom of a king I sang in night after night. It was difficult to sing when there were tears in my eyes – I was forcing my voice now and all my skill would not keep it true much longer – but I knew I would not need it for much longer.

  I stood at the window looking out over the green parkland and thought of how Hatton had narrowed to a prison for my brother – a prison with only one way out; and I was trapped here too, with him. Just a year ago I had come back from the war thinking that it was over; but I had been wrong, for the war still wheezed and panted on the sofa behind me. ‘Hellie?’ I went quickly to his side and helped him raise himself a little higher on the cushions.

  The door opened. ‘Mr Holden, my lady.’

  I turned in relief. ‘Ben! I’m so glad to see you.’

  He marched forward, very broad and solid. ‘I would have come before – but I thought the Captain were away.’

  ‘We both were, in London – but we came back.’ I saw his eyes move to Robbie’s face, but there was not the flicker of a change in his expression. He came up to the sofa, hand outstretched.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Holden. What’s the news?’ Robbie’s eyes had brightened.

  The two men sat talking together quietly. I lapsed into a near-doze, scarcely listening – but I was still aware of how skilfully Ben Holden guided the conversation, so that Robbie never had to use more than a few words at a time. Later I poured tea for them, and then Ben got up to leave. He refused Robbie’s offer of a car. ‘I enjoy the walk, sir – thanks all the same. This is a different sort of country for me – makes quite a treat.’

  Robbie turned to me. ‘Why don’t you walk a little way with Holden, Hellie? You haven’t been out of the house for days.’ I opened my mouth for the automatic refusal, but then my brother added, ‘I feel like another nap.’ So I arranged him on his cushions and rang for my coat and outdoor shoes.

  We walked in silence until Ben Holden finally asked, diffidently, ‘Did they say owt at medical board?’

  ‘Yes.’ I could not go on, but I knew he understood. We walked on further. At last he said, ‘Look, lass – I mean Lady Helena – if there’s ever anything I can do, you know where I live: Clegg Street, Ainsclough – you drop me a line and I’ll come soon as I can.’

  ‘Thank you, Ben.’

  We walked on without speaking until we drew level with the larger lake; then he sent me back.

  Chapter Five

  The day after Ben Holden’s visit Robbie seemed a little better. He was sleeping peacefully when I looked in on him in the morning, so I dressed quickly, crept out through the dressing-room door and went down to breakfast. Only my father was there. He lowered his Times and muttered to the butter dish, ‘How is he today?’

  ‘He’s still asleep, Papa – and he had a quiet night.’

  ‘Good, good.’ The Times moved up again.

  After breakfast I walked out on to the terrace; the sun was shining and I felt more hopeful – perhaps the infection would clear up after all – doctors had been wrong before. But my small burst of optimism quickly evaporated as I saw my brother coming towards me – leaning so heavily on his stick, and with his breath coming in small anxious pants. And as I reached up to kiss his cheek the freshness of the morning air was tainted by the scent of decay from his lungs. Yet his old smile was on his face, as he greeted me, and looked around with pleasure. ‘What a lovely day! You must go for a ride, Hellie – or perhaps we could go for a little trip in the governess cart.’

  I smiled. ‘If you’ll trust yourself to me, Robbie – I’ll try not to tip you out this time, like I did in front of Sir Ernest!’

  He gave a reminiscent chuckle, and we went slowly into the house. As soon as we sat down in the music room Robbie reached into his pocket and drew out a small leather case. I knew what was in it before he flicked open the clasp. We both sat in silence, looking at Eddie’s watch. I remembered the smile on Uncle John’s face when he had held them out, one in each hand, ‘Twin watches for twin godsons.’ I had looked at the boys
’ faces, so pleased and proud. Although Mother had said the twins were far too young to have gold watches they had never been broken: they had both come back from France, whole and unmarked, unlike their young owners.

  Robbie gently stroked the smooth gold with his fingertip. ‘I always meant to send it to Holden – Eddie would have wanted him to have it. Only I couldn’t bear to part with it before, but now…’ He shrugged his thin shoulders, then abruptly held it out to me. ‘You take it, Hellie, and see it gets delivered.’

  I took the watch in silence and ran quickly upstairs to put it safely away. When I came back down he was cheerful again, and picked out odd notes on the piano as I sang. But that afternoon, even the slow governess cart was too much for him, and we had to turn back before the West Lodge. At dinner, when Papa talked of the prospects for next season’s hunting, Robbie said nothing, and I found myself blurting out that I thought it was wrong to kill anything – even a fox. Papa’s face was hurt and uncomprehending, while my mother, slicing neatly through a peach, said in her beautifully modulated tones, ‘But Helena, you only ever had two social accomplishments – singing and hunting – I don’t think you can afford to give one up.’

  The old sense of failure tied my tongue, but Letty, bold Letty, said pertly, ‘You never used to consider her singing a social accomplishment anyway – don’t be inconsistent, Mother – it’s a sign of old age.’ Mother flushed angrily and drew breath, but her retort was checked by the entrance of Cooper with the coffee, and Letty winked at me, unabashed. Robbie looked down at his untouched plate, his face very tired. I felt a rush of hatred for my bickering family.

  The next day Robbie was fighting for breath, and the pain attacked him that night. He had twenty-four hours of peace, and then it came again, and after that he was never free of it. Three nights later he was racked with great tearing coughs and even as I reached him with the bowl he choked up foul-smelling pus; there was blood and shreds of tissue mixed with it, and I wanted to cry, but I did not. When he had finished I eased him back against the pillows, my arm around his shoulders. As he looked at me I saw the desperate apology in his eyes and I stroked his hair with my free hand and whispered, ‘It’s all right, little brother – it’s all right.’ He rested his cheek for a moment against my palm and I thanked a God I did not believe in that I had spent four long years holding men’s heads in just such a way – and so now I could hold my beloved brother’s without flinching.