Shattered Lives

by Marian Phair

  Amie thanked him, handing him his jacket, which he had hung over the back of the old wooden chair. She noticed the button was missing and offered to sew one on for him, but he declined, telling her he never did it up anyway.

  “Now remember, don’t let her stay in bed any longer than two days.”

  Amie followed him as he went out, and stood on the cobbled path, watching as he got into the waiting boat. She waved at the young boy who had brought the doctor over to the island, and called out her thanks and Liam Nesbitt waved back, flashing her one of his dazzling smiles. A mere fourteen years of age, he had half the girls in the county after him. With his dark blonde curly hair and deep blue eyes, he was already a very handsome lad. She watched as he skillfully maneuvered the boat from the quayside, rowing out across the Lough, pulling on the oars with swift even strokes, sending the boat skimming across the water. ‘He will break many a poor Girl’s heart some day,’ she thought, as she made her way into the cottage to prepare a meal for them both.

  Caring for her grandmother in the days that followed, tending the crops, gathering wood for the fire, doing all the seemingly endless chores, left her no time to lick her own wounds. Falling exhausted into bed each night, she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She had not seen or heard from Ralph since the night she had given herself to him, and she ached to feel his arms around her, longing for his touch. She had written to the address he had given her, and as the days went by without a reply from him, she had gone over to the mainland, and driven into town to find and confront him. The address he had given her as his lodgings, turned out to be a disused warehouse on an overgrown plot of land on the outskirts of town.

  Amie made enquiries in the town, asking at the one hotel before checking the two boarding houses, but no one had ever heard of him. She tried the restaurant he had taken her to, but they could not enlighten her either. Ralph had made a telephone reservation, booking a table for two on the eighth of August in the name of Newman, but that was all the help they could give her. The staff did not recall ever having seen him in the restaurant before that night or since. He could have stayed anywhere in the county or beyond for all she knew, but she could not search everywhere, and with a heavy heart she made her way home.

  Daisy’s health improved rapidly under Amie’s tender care, and she ate her meals downstairs. Feeding herself had been difficult at first, but Daisy had persevered, and her persistence had paid off. She had regained the use of her limbs, and was taking daily walks around the garden. With Amie’s help, she found herself getting stronger and more confident each day, and she would sit outside talking to Amie, watching her as she worked. Unable to carry the buckets of water from the Lough, or to water the crops, Daisy helped where she could with the flowers, gathering them for sale, removing the dead heads as she came across them, saving any seeds from them for replanting. She noticed the dark circles under her granddaughter’s eyes, and that she was eating very little. Amie had lost weight and little wonder after all she has had to deal with these past few weeks. She had heard Amie vomiting her breakfast up that morning and not for the first time either.

  Suddenly fear gripped Daisy, remembering how sick she had been when she was pregnant, as she had not been able to keep her food down in the mornings in the early months. Surely Amie could not be with child, as she had been her chaperone, except for that one night when Amie had turned eighteen. That was the only time they had been alone together, and Daisy mentally rapped herself on the knuckles for thinking ill of her grandchild.

  Amie came into the kitchen looking deathly pale, and went over to the bucket of spring water, ladling some into a cup, and drinking it down quenching her thirst.

  “I will make it up to you pet, for all you have had to put up with these last few weeks, as soon as I am back on my feet again properly,” Daisy said, going over to Amie and giving her a hug.

  Daisy had recovered enough for them to take their usual dander around the island, ending up as always under the giant oak tree. It was then, as they sat together in the shade of its huge branches that the bitter sweet memory of her night of passion with Ralph came flooding back, and Amie was shocked into realising she had not had a period for some time. Daisy had been talking to her about the view, but she had not heard a word of what was said to her, as her mind was away on other things.

  Back at the cottage, panic-stricken, Amie checked the calendar. It had been eight weeks since her last period, how could she have not known.

  “What is it dear, why are you studying the calendar so intently, is something bothering you?” Daisy asked, watching the flickering emotions crossing

  Amie’s face as she studied the calendar.

  “It’s nothing to concern yourself over gran,” she told her, “I have just realised I have not had my monthlies for some time and I was just checking.” Seeing the look on Daisy’s face Amie grew defensive, finding herself blushing. “It does not necessarily mean I am pregnant, as any number of things could have caused me to be overdue, with what has been happening lately.” She felt herself tensing up fearing the worst, and in her heart she knew the answer. There had been other signs, that in her misery, she had missed. It explained the queasiness she felt in the mornings, which she had until now thought was caused by a stomach bug. Now back-tracking in her mind, she realised these feelings had been going on for some time.

  Daisy’s heart sank at Amie’s words, the very idea that her granddaughter even thought she may be pregnant, left her in no doubt that she was no longer a virgin. The very thought upset her, and she felt as if a knife had been plunged into her heart, knowing she had failed to protect her grandchild. She kept her back towards Amie, filling the smoke blackened kettle with spring water from the bucket on the Welsh dresser, as she fought to regain her composure, trying hard not to let her emotions show on her face, as she crossed the room.

  “Well dear, I hope for both our sakes you’re not pregnant,” said Daisy, keeping her voice calm and unemotional, as she set the kettle over the fire in the range.

  They had a cup of tea and a biscuit or two at ten o’clock every morning sitting together at the kitchen table. Daisy called it their ‘elevenses,’ irrespective of the time of day.

  “I don’t know how we would cope with an extra mouth to feed, as we can barely get by with just the two of us.” Daisy said busying herself with the tea making, and setting out the mugs. Instead of biscuits, she buttered a round of soda bread each, spreading it thickly with homemade blackberry jam. It was her way of making sure Amie had something more substantial to eat than a couple of biscuits. Amie saw the look of sadness on Daisy’s face as she handed her the plate of bread, knowing how her grandmother felt about these matters, and girls who got themselves pregnant before they were married. She knew she had let her down badly. With a guilty look she turned away, staring with unseeing eyes, out of the small kitchen window. They drank their tea in silence. Daisy set down her cup, and tying her apron round her waist, set to clearing away the tea things.

  “You will have to go and see Dr Reid and get him to give you a pregnancy test,” Daisy told her, setting the mugs in the basin they used for washing the dishes. “Don’t worry; no one will know what you have gone to see him about as Dr Reid is discretion itself.” Pouring some hot water from the kettle into the basin, she added washing up liquid and washed the tea things they had used.

  Amie got up from her chair, taking the tea towel off its hook, helped Daisy by drying them, and placing them on the Welsh dresser. Nothing more was said.

  Suddenly, feeling very tired, Amie kissed Daisy on the cheek, and gave her a quick hug.

  “I am going to lie down for a while Gran, and I hope you don’t mind. I need a rest and I will catch up on my chores later.

  It was the last time Amie saw her grandmother alive.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With the funeral and the move from Craig Island behind her, Amie finally found the time to pay Dr Reid a visit.

  After an examination,
he looked at her over the top of his glasses, saying, “Well I’m afraid the test is positive as I’m sure you knew it would be. You are a little over twelve weeks by my reckoning, which means your baby should be born sometime in April although that being said, babies have a habit of being born when they are ready.” Removing his surgical gloves, he threw them into the waste disposal bin by the sink, before offering her his help to get down from the examination couch. He nodded his head towards the chair beside his desk, indicating with his hand, inviting her to sit down, and then settled himself behind his desk. “What do you plan on doing now that you know?” he asked her.

  Dr Reid was aware of Amie’s plight, and he also knew Kathleen O’Rourke landlady of the boarding house Amie was staying in. He knew she would not let Amie remain in her lodgings once her condition became obvious, and being the gossip that she was, Amie’s secret would not stay a secret for long.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I need to think.” Amie chewed at her bottom lip, something she had a habit of doing when she had a problem to solve.

  “I will have to go away I guess and make a fresh start, somewhere where no one knows anything about me.” She knew if she was to give herself any chance at all of a new life, she had to get away from here, and she owed it to the tiny life growing inside her to try, the sooner the better, before her funds dried up completely.

  She had heard stories of the homes for unmarried mothers, run by the Sisters of Mercy, but decided that would be her last resort. She could not seek help from the Nesbitt’s and bring shame to their door.

  Where could she go and what could she to do? She had no idea, as she had no skills to speak of.

  Dr Reid sat for a few moments, deep in thought, studying her. Amie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt like a bug under a microscope, being scrutinised, and feeling slightly intimidated by his presence.

  He was a big man in every sense of the word, with a big heart to match, and with his unruly mop of brown hair, bushy eyebrows and his habit of looking at you over his glasses, he reminded Amie somewhat of the headmaster of the high school she had attended on the mainland.

  “Maybe,” he said thoughtfully, as an idea occurred to him, “only maybe mind you, I might be able to help you with your problem, if you give me a moment.”

  Searching through a pile of papers on his desk, he finally found what he was looking for. “Hah, got it, here it is!” he exclaimed, holding up an envelope for her to see. “An ex-colleague of mine, one Dr Samuel Morrison, wrote to me a few days ago, asking if I knew of anyone seeking employment, who could fill a vacancy as a nanny to the three year old son of an actress friend of his.”

  He withdrew the letter from the envelope, scanning it briefly before continuing. “The type of person they are looking for would have to be utterly trustworthy and discreet, and also be prepared to travel with them when they are on location.” Pausing for breath, he looked at her over his glasses, and asked if she had a passport.

  “Well yes, she replied, I went on a school trip to France when I was fourteen, and I got a ten year passport then which expires in six years time.”

  “Well now, if you think you are up to the job, do you want to give him a try?”

  Pushing his chair away from his desk, he leant back in it wearily, and raising his legs, plonked his feet on the edge of his desk, crossing them over at the ankles with an audible sigh. He sat tapping the letter against his finger tips, whistling softly under his breath, whilst giving her time to think, looking at her over his glasses as he sat waiting for her reply.

  His behaviour was unconventional for a doctor in consultation with a patient, but Dr Fredrick, (Freddie to his friends) Reid, was anything but conventional. His attire left a lot to be desired, being more than likely due to his bachelor status. Often he would have a food stain on his tie, which was always askew, but he dressed for comfort not style. Freddie could not care less what people thought of the way he dressed, as long as he was comfortable in the clothes he wore, it had always been that way.

  As a schoolboy, he was always in trouble with his peers over his clothing. His shirt tail would escape to hang down the back of his short trousers, the long grey school socks he wore at ‘half-mast’ down his legs, tie askew, and the toes of his shoes, scuffed from kicking stones around on his way to school. He stood out from the other neatly dressed pupils, like a sore thumb.

  Thinking back to his school days, Freddie could still hear his teacher’s voice ordering, “pull your socks up Reid, straighten your tie and tuck that damn shirt-tail in boy, you’re a bloody disgrace.”

  Freddie had lots of friends due to his kind heart and warm nature, and fortunately for his patients he was one of the best doctors in the country.

  Suddenly, as if coming to her senses, Amie said softly, “I am pregnant, who would want to employ someone in my condition?” her voice echoing her despair.

  Swinging his legs down from his desk and reaching for the telephone, Dr Reid nodded his head in the direction of the door. “Let me make a call, and I will see what I can do for you, and you go and make yourself comfortable in the waiting room.

  Amie sat with baited breath, alone in the small waiting room. Through the half-open door, she could hear snippets of the conversation he was having with the person on the other end. Although Freddie kept his voice low pitched, she heard the word ‘baby’ mentioned several times during the conversation. Then she heard the sound of the telephone being replaced on its receiver. She realised she had been holding her breath, and let it out with an audible sigh. He called her back into his office, and she crossed the room on trembling legs.

  “Have a seat” he said, pointing to the chair with his left hand, and not looking up as he scribbled hastily on a note pad with his right.

  “What about the father of the baby, does he know you are pregnant?” he asked, continuing to write, his head bent over the note pad.

  “Would he stand by you? And do the decent thing?”

  “He doesn’t know he is not around anymore.” Amie replied not going into details.

  “Well, the call I made turned out better than I thought it would,” he said, tearing the sheet of paper he had been writing on, off the pad and slipping it into an envelope, licking the edges, and sticking them down before handing it to her. “Keep this safe, give it to Sam when you meet him, and he will know what to do.”

  Amie placed the envelope into her handbag, a confused look on her face. “Right”, he said, “a car will be sent to collect you from your lodgings at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. It will take you to Belfast airport, where I have arranged your flight with Sam, and a private plane will fly you to Reus airport in Costa Dorado Spain.” Removing his glasses, he breathed on the lens, and then wiped them with a tissue, replacing them on his nose before continuing. “You have secured the position of Nanny, to the actress Melissa Proctor’s three year old son, Peter. She is on location in Spain, where a chauffeur will meet your flight in Reus, and take you to the villa. They have been informed of your position, and the fact that you are pregnant will only be a problem if you let it.”

  “Sam will give you regular check-ups during your pregnancy, so no worries there,” he stated, lowering his head to look at her over his glasses, and giving her a smile of reassurance.

  “When the time comes for the baby to be born, you will receive the best possible care in the capable hands of my ex-colleague Dr Samuel Morrison, who, by-the-way likes to be called ‘Dr Sam’.

  Freddie pushed his glasses up with one finger, and smiled at her. Leaving his seat and coming around his desk, he shook Amie’s hand, and wished her good luck in her new life.

  Amie was dumbstruck! Unable to take in all he was telling her, and overcome by his kindness towards her, she wished she knew him well enough to kiss him, because that is what she felt like doing. Instead, she rose, and gave him a quick hug of thanks. Leaving the surgery in a daze, she made her way back through the windswept streets to her lodgings.

  A
fter Amie had left his surgery Dr Fredrick Reid paced up and down in the confined space between his desk and the outer wall of his office. Mulling over the past events, he could not get over his feelings of guilt at what he had just done. ‘I have become an accomplished liar’ he thought, and all for the sake of a few thousand pounds. He needed money badly,

  ‘Needs must when the Devil drives’ he told himself, but now his conscience was getting the better of him.

  With his practice being in Ballyshannon, just over the border from the north, in the so called ‘Free State,’ most of his patients were elderly retired farm labourers and fishermen, with little money to spend on their treatment or medication, unlike Northern Ireland where the British Government’s help provided the citizens with dole money for the unemployed, and the National Health Service was in force.

  Freddie often found his patients paying for his services with a dozen freshly laid eggs, or home grown vegetables, and sometimes an odd job was done for him here and there. One old fisherman had paid him with a half-dozen perch and a ‘hen’ pike, weighing a massive twenty eight pounds, when Freddie had treated his broken leg.

  When Freddie had started his practice fifteen years ago, he had found this method of payment charming. Over the years he had been forced to subsidise it from his savings, but they had dwindled, and now he had but a few pounds left to his name.

  The roof over his living quarters leaked so badly when it rained, which it did more often than not, and he had been forced to move his bed to the other side of the room. Now, having such a confined space, he had to climb over the end of it to get in and out of the room, placing a bucket where his bed had been, to catch the rain water.

  The small back room that had been his storage was now empty and entirely useless, as the floorboards were slowly rotting away, and the damp had spread up its walls. He had covered the broken window panes with pieces of wood, taken from an old packing crate, which he had nailed to the rotting frames. The pigeons, finding this entrance barred, made their way into the room through gaps in the roof tiles. He had grown accustomed to their cooing and the flutter of their wings, as they came in to roost.