by Betty Annand
Millie explained that she had run out of her medicine but would be able to manage if Gladys wouldn’t mind fetching some more from the alchemist. “And perhaps you could ask for two bottles? It would save me the trouble of going for another when I need it. I have a few teeth that have been troubling me lately,” she said.
There were a number of empty bottles on Millie’s drain board causing both Gladys and Andrew to suspect that when she was alone she was overdosing on her medication. Although they knew Millie should pay a visit to her doctor before taking more, they feared the doctor would insist on committing her to an asylum, so Gladys finished cleaning the premises while Andrew went to the alchemist to have the prescription refilled.
They knew before they took Millie home that she would need someone to stay with her, and Andrew insisted on paying for the service. Luckily, Gladys knew of a sixteen-year-old girl who could use the money. Her name was Priscilla Mulberry, and she lived with her parents in one of the thirty houses attached to the Phoenix Brewery, only a block or two from Millie’s shop. Priscilla attended the same church as Gladys and was also a member of the choir. She was a small, plain looking girl, with a shy, timid, and unpretentious personality. Both her parents worked in the brewery that employed a good percentage of Dover’s workforce since it was one of the largest breweries in the country. Priscilla stayed home and did the housework and the cooking.
Gladys left Andrew with Millie and went to see the girl and was pleased when both she and her parents were happy with the prospects of having another wage to add to their income. Priscilla began working for Millie the following day and soon proved she was very competent and reliable. Having someone in charge of her medication also did a great deal to help Millie function, and she seemed more like her old self, but her increasing loss of memory was hurting her business. She had trouble remembering the names of her customers and which gown they ordered. As a result, she lost more clients, and it wasn’t long before she barely made enough money to pay her rent. In fact, if it wasn’t for Priscilla, she couldn’t have stayed in business. The young girl had become very fond of Millie, and although her knowledge of stitchery was rudimentary, she proved to be a big help with the basting and cutting out.
Aware of Millie’s situation, Gladys invited her to dinner at least three times a week, which not only saved the seamstress money, but allowed Priscilla to spend more time at home. Since someone had to bring Millie to dinner and take her home later, Andrew was more than happy to oblige, being as fond of Gladys’s cooking as Millie. The frequent visits to his daughter-in-law did not go unnoticed by his estranged wife and other gossips around town. Andrew had always enjoyed a spotless reputation, so although he had no reason to feel blameworthy, his conscience didn’t always agree.
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It had been seven years since Andrew left his second wife Rose and her two spoiled children and moved into a flat near his office on the quay. He was saying as much to a sailor friend one night after they had downed numerous drinks at a local pub. Drinking to excess was not a regular habit of Andrew’s. Perhaps if it was, he would have been more accustomed to it and not so anxious to share his personal thoughts, but he had consumed enough liquor that night to dull his senses.
“You know, there are advantages to being poor, Pete,” He said to his one-eyed drinking companion.
“I can’t say I believes that!” Pete answered, his head bobbing side to side as though mounted on a spring.
“Well, you see,” Andrew attempted to explain while trying his best to focus on his friend’s only eye, “if I was to be down and out, then I could sell my wife, right?”
According to the law, what Andrew said was in fact true, but only if a man was impoverished, and then it was necessary for both the husband and his wife to agree to the sale. This seldom caused a problem since most wives preferred being sold to starving to death.
“Aye, that you could, that you could,” answered Pete, his head changing directions to the affirmative. When it stopped moving, he chuckled and added, “Do ye recall that there feller called, Densie? He sold his ol’ woman—Sadie, I think her name were—fer a bottle o’ gin.”
“I do. I do, I do,” Andrew replied, beginning to feel better. Pete’s moving head had begun to make him queasy, but now that it had stopped bobbing about, he was able to take another drink and continue with their conversation. “And, if I recall correctly, damned if he didn’t buy her back a week later for a bottle of wine.”
“Aye, that he did, an’ then, by Jaysus, if she didn’t talk ’im into selling her again.” Then he gave Andrew a poke in the ribs and a wink of his eye and added, “An’ I heard tell she enjoyed having a change o’ bed partners so much she managed to be sold three more times.” Andrew called for another round as soon as they stopped laughing.
Andrew would have divorced Rose without hesitation, but unfortunately divorces were only granted through an act of parliament and that seldom happened, so he had to settle with a separation. This suited Rose and her family very well because Andrew provided her with a generous allowance enabling her, and her daughter Mildred, to dress in the latest styles and to keep her son Peter in one of the finest private schools.
Andrew only visited Rose when he wanted to collect some belongings that he kept in a locked room in the house along with a trunk full of Tom’s books and toys. One day he decided that it was time he gave the trunk to Dolly, so he went to pick them up in his buggy, but was disappointed to find that Rose was home when he arrived.
“I have heard you are building a new home in the country, Mr Pickwick,” Rose said accusingly. “There are also rumours about, that you and that woman are seeing a great deal of each other.”
“I am building a house, which is no concern of yours, and I intend to see a great deal more of my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter as well, which is also no concern of yours.”
“Your conduct, Mr Pickwick, is downright shameful. I should think you would have more respect for me and my children. It tarnishes our reputation when you are seen cavorting about with a barmaid half your age.”
In a quiet but threatening voice, Andrew replied, “Madam, watch what you say. Tom’s widow is an honourable woman, and I shall not have you going about blabbing derogatory remarks about her.” Rose started to protest but Andrew cut her off, “Beware. I have never laid a hand on you, even though there is no law to prevent me from doing so, but if you say one more word about my family, and understand this, I consider Gladys and Dolly my only true family, then I shall be forced to strike you down. And not only will I hit you, but if you ignore my warning, I shall decrease your monthly allowance.”
The thought of having less money to squander upset Rose to such an extent that she gave a weak laugh and said, “Do forgive me, Mr Pickwick. Let us not come to grips over something so trivial, shall we?”
“Trivial? Such remarks as those you made are more slanderous than trivial.”
“Oh, dear, I have such a habit of uttering inappropriate words when I am flustered. You must forgive me. I do not believe we could manage on any less of an allowance. You see, Peter’s school has raised its fees, and Mildred has so many social functions to attend—she is a very popular young lady now.”
“Very well, but you have been warned.”
After Andrew left with the trunk, Rose uttered curses that would shock a seasoned sailor, then solemnly vowed to get even with Gladys and her daughter.
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Dolly was elated when Andrew presented her with her father’s trunk filled with books and toys. She hugged him so hard that he had to pry her arms loose from around his neck. The three of them spent the evening looking at the contents, and they all shed a few tears when Andrew told them little stories about each of Tom’s favourites.
The Sunday picnics at Oaken Arms came to an end when Gladys volunteered to pick up Millie on her way home from church every Sunday and keep her for th
e day. This allowed Priscilla to spend an entire day with her parents. Millie was gradually becoming more and more confused and Gladys’s home was the only place, other than her own, where she felt secure. Fortunately, there were other days in the week when Andrew was able to take time off work, and then he would pick up Gladys and Dolly and visit the site to see how the building was progressing. Every bit of sod turned and every brick laid added to their joy. Andrew figured it would probably take two years to finish the house and the outbuildings, which seemed like eons to Gladys and Dolly.
One Sunday the four of them were sitting around the dinner table when Millie leaned over and pointing to Andrew, whispered in Gladys’s ear, “Who is that man, dear?”
Gladys, a little taken aback, whispered, “That’s Andrew, Millie, you know him.”
Millie smiled brightly and replied, “Of course, how silly of me! He is your young man.” Gladys couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“What is going on between you two?” Andrew asked.
“Millie thinks you are my young man,” Gladys said with a grin.
Andrew almost said he wished it were true, but then he felt ashamed to even think of such a thing. “You flatter me, Millie, but I am a little too old for such a young lady.”
Gladys laughed again and said, “He’s not really so old, Millie. Andrew is a good friend of yours, and he is my father-in-law and Dolly’s grandfather, remember?”
“Of course I know that; why on earth wouldn’t I?” Millie replied accusingly, as though it was Gladys who was confused. Surprisingly, Gladys enjoyed Millie’s company during the following months more than ever. She knew her friend only had a limited amount of time left before her memory would be completely gone, so that made their time together that much more precious. They all had become accustomed to her periodic memory failures, and even Dolly learned not to mention it in her presence so as not to alarm her. When Millie was clear-headed, she maintained a positive attitude, even though she was aware of her bleak future.
She was sitting in the kitchen with Gladys one evening, while Andrew was in the parlour reading to Dolly, and speaking quietly so as not to be overheard, she said, “Gladys my dear, I know that I am losing my senses.” Gladys started to protest, but Millie stopped her, “No, dear, I have seen it happen to others, and because there are still times like now when I am thinking clearly, I must tell you what I want you to do for me. You know that I consider you and Dolly my family, and that I love you both dearly, so it may be difficult for you to understand what I am about to say. When I can no longer stay where I am, I do not wish to move in with you.”
“Oh, Millie, of course you will. We want to look after you.”
“Please listen to me, Gladys. You must do what I ask. When I don’t know who I am or who you are, I want you to have me committed. This is what I wish. And I do not want you, or Dolly, to come and visit me. I am a foolish and vain old woman I know, but that is how I feel, so please, if you truly are my best friend then do what I ask. I do not want anyone I know to see me when I can no longer take care of my hair and makeup. I would rather be dead than have anyone, especially you, see me in such a state. I prefer you to remember me the way I am now.”
“But, Millie, we love who you are, not how you look. Even Priscilla thinks you are a wonderful person.”
“When you begin to age and lose some of your senses, everybody wants to make you feel better by telling you how wonderful you are. But don’t you see, Gladys, this time it’s not what you want. It is what I want. I want you to swear that you will do as I ask. Swear it, Gladys, for my sake.”
Gladys took hold of Millie’s hands in hers—the small, capable hands she loved to watch as they made masterpieces out of plain yards of cloth, and she reluctantly made the promise. When Andrew took Millie home that night, she gave him an envelope and instructed him to keep it until she was no longer with them.
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It was as though Millie had known it would be the last evening she would spend with them all. The following week she suffered another stroke, far more severe than the previous one. Gladys was able to have her admitted to the Dover infirmary, because Andrew, one of the establishment’s Governors for life, recommended her. The infirmary was only for charity patients since it was funded solely by donations from individuals, organizations, legacies, and memorial gifts.
Poor Millie was almost completely paralyzed. For sanitary reasons, her hair was cut short and, without its usual treatment of henna, was now a dreadful orange colour. She appeared to have aged twenty years in two days and was almost unrecognizable, but the cruellest consequence of the stroke was her inability to speak. She could only manage the sound “na,” which she repeated over and over again when she became agitated, or was in pain.
When Gladys first visited her, there were tears running down her cheeks and Gladys said, “I know, Millie, I promised, but you might be much better in a few days. You still look great,” she lied. “I won’t let Dolly and Andrew come until you have your hair done, I promise.” Millie closed her eyes, and Gladys knew she understood. She visited Millie a few times during the next week, but they were short visits because Andrew was away and she didn’t want to take advantage of Mrs Grimsby, who was kind enough to look after Dolly.
One of the nursing attendants met her on Monday afternoon of the following week and said that the doctor would like a word with her in his office. Doctor Thornsbury, a large, portly man with a handlebar moustache and a ruddy complexion, was seated behind his desk. He smiled warmly and offered her a seat, then inquired about her relationship to the patient. Gladys told him Millie wasn’t a relative, but her closest friend.
“Well, Mrs Pickwick, Millie has had a rough time these last two days. Her teeth are in terrible condition and are causing her a great deal of pain. Now I’ve taken the liberty of calling in Dr Freedman, a dentist I consider very competent. He thinks it will be necessary to pull all her teeth. Fortunately, she only has six on the bottom and eight on the top. Her gums are in a poor state as well.”
“Oh no, Doctor, could she stand such a thing?”
“To be honest, Mrs Pickwick, I don’t know, but I think we have no choice, since she will die of poison if those teeth are not pulled. I can assure you though, that nowadays, extractions can be painless with the use of anaesthetics. Chloroform is the one Dr Freedman prefers, and I recommend it as well. Now, in her condition, I would not recommend dentures. They take a great deal of getting accustomed to, and I think that the poor woman has enough to contend with.”
“Doctor, is there any hope Millie will recover from the stroke, or will she always be paralyzed?”
“One can never say for certain, but I have yet to witness a patient in her condition make a recovery. I am very sorry.”
“When will the dentist pull her teeth?”
“He intends to do it tomorrow morning.”
Gladys thanked the doctor, and after promising to give his regards to Andrew, she left to visit Millie, who had been sedated and was unaware she had company.
Gladys was advised not to visit her again for at least two days after the operation, since she would probably be heavily sedated. The next time she went to visit her, Gladys was shocked by Millie’s appearance. Her face was black and blue and swollen so badly that she couldn’t open her eyes. Gladys took her hand and gave it a little squeeze, but Millie didn’t respond. Gladys talked to her about Dolly and how they all missed her, but Millie only moaned and turned her head from side to side. Finally, Gladys decided that she was upsetting her more than comforting her, so she left.
It was a few days before she returned to the infirmary. This time she left Dolly with Andrew and went in the evening. When she arrived, there was a woman nurse with Millie. Gladys had heard of Mrs Fry’s nurses and by the looks of this woman’s clean uniform, Gladys thought she might be one. She was trying to coax Millie to eat a little pudding, but she kept turni
ng her head to avoid the spoon. Although her face was not as swollen as the last time Gladys saw her, it was still covered with black and yellow bruises, and Gladys hardly recognized her. When Millie saw Gladys she cried out, “Na, Na, Na, Na!”
Gladys smiled at the nurse, then said, “I will try to feed her if you like.”
Pleased, the nurse smiled and replied, “Perhaps she might take a little from you,” and then left.
Gladys sat down and took hold of Millie’s hand. “Don’t cry, Millie dear; I won’t make you eat it.” The only response Millie gave her was an intense and pleading look. She continued staring at Gladys that way for such a long time that Gladys couldn’t ignore the message it conveyed. She recalled Millie’s words when she said she would rather be dead than be seen in such a state. There was no doubt in Gladys mind what her dear friend wanted her to do, but she shook her head in refusal. Tears began running down Millie’s sunken cheeks, and her lips kept opening and closing in little short movements that were unmistakably pleas for mercy.
Millie was the best friend Gladys ever had, and she loved her even more than she had loved Sally. She also knew what she would want Millie to do if she were the one laying there with no hope of recovery. Taking hold of Millie’s hand, she whispered, “Oh, Millie, I don’t think I can.” Somehow, Millie managed to find the strength to squeeze her hand, and she knew she had no choice.
Squeezing her hand back, she said, “It’s alright, Millie, my dearest; it’s alright.” Millie’s eyes closed, and her face relaxed.
Then Gladys kissed her on the forehead and said, “Goodbye, my darling. I love you so much.” Millie smiled, but because she couldn’t move her lips, it didn’t show.
Ever so gently, Gladys raised Millie’s head and slid the pillow out from beneath it. Then she put it over her friend’s face and held it down. The seconds seemed like hours, until the feeble struggling ceased. Gladys hands were trembling as she placed the pillow back under Millie’s head and smoothed her hair. She forced herself to eat some of the pudding before turning down the lamp and leaving the room; her entire body aching and her legs shaking. She managed to take the half empty bowl to the nurse and report that Millie had eaten a little, and was now sleeping peacefully. She left the infirmary and only managed to get around the corner and out of sight before throwing up the pudding and bursting into tears of anguish.