The Guernsey Saga Box Set

by Diana Bachmann

  “Oh God! Come on we must get home!” The wheelchair spun away from the desk. “On second thoughts, I’ll only hold you up. You go, sweetheart. Quickly. Phone me if there is anything I can do at this end.” He looked distraught, and so helpless.

  Sue bent over him with a hasty peck on the cheek. “Try not to worry, darling. I’ll call as soon as I know anything,” and she dashed out of the office.

  At home, chaos reigned.

  Stephanie was screaming with delight as she chased the cat round the house. Deborah was screaming with fury at being ignored and Nanny was on the verge of hysteria, while Roddy lay on the sitting room sofa, white as a sheet, not moving.

  “Have you phoned for the doctor?” Sue demanded.

  Nanny jabbered incoherently.

  “Control yourself. Have you telephoned . . .?”

  The girl burst into tears.

  Sue smacked her on the cheek. “Stop that! Pull yourself together and answer me!”

  With a gasp of surprise the girl nodded. “Yes, ma’am. They said they would try to find him.”

  Sue grabbed the phone and dialled the surgery. “I want a doctor immediately! This is an emergency! Then send an ambulance and we’ll get the child to hospital.”

  Within five minutes the bell could be heard coming up the hill. “Nanny, make yourself a cup of tea, now. Then give Debbie a bottle and stop Stephanie teasing the cat.”

  The ambulance men were very efficient, and soon they were all bouncing back down the road, Sue sitting in the back of the vehicle holding Roddy’s hand.

  Doctor Collard was waiting as a nurse wheeled the boy into the examination room on a trolley and having phoned Jonathan to say where they were, Sue was left sitting on a hard chair in the passage, biting her thumb.

  “I have decided to admit him, Sue,” the doctor told her half an hour later. “Three of us have had a look at him and we would like to do further tests. From what can be adjudged so far, we none of us see his condition to be of immediately serious concern, but agree he should be kept here under observation. They are taking him straight along to the Children’s Ward and perhaps you would go down there to see him installed. Sister will advise you as to his requirements.”

  It all seemed so coldly clinical. A thousand questions came to mind, but she guessed the doctor would simply ask her to await the answers in due course.

  Roddy looked so small, pale and pathetic, lying in the big, starched hospital bed. His blond hair was damp and tangled, his eyes opening, rolling towards her, questioning, and closing again as his lips quivered. At least he was conscious.

  She took a taxi home and found all was peaceful. Stephanie was having her nap, Deborah was sitting in her pram bashing the toys strung in front of her on a piece of elastic, and Nanny was peeling potatoes for her lunch.

  Upstairs, Sue grabbed a holdall and stuffed it with Roddy’s pyjamas and dressing gown, a pair of slippers, a toothbrush, his teddy bear and two favourite books. She threw the bag into the car, drove round to the front of the hotel to park while she rushed inside to tell Jonathan what was happening.

  “My darling!” he held out his arms and she went to him, hugging him briefly before pulling away. “Keep your pecker up, old thing,” he kissed the palm of her hand. “The little man will be okay. Now off you go, and don’t worry about a thing here.”

  Roddy tossed about in his bed, constantly checking his mother was still by his side, but saying nothing.

  Sue read him a story, not knowing if he was listening until he squeezed her hand and whispered, “More.”

  A nurse brought her a tray of tea and sandwiches, which reminded her she hadn’t eaten anything since seven that morning, six hours ago!

  The staff told her to try to encourage Roddy to drink, and even eat if he could. He lunched on Bovril and jelly, and by teatime he asked for two sandwiches, one paste and one jam.

  “He is a much better colour, don’t you think?” the staff nurse remarked.

  “Yes. But I wish we knew what the problem was.” Sue smiled down at him and stroked his hair.

  “Maybe we’ll know more tomorrow. Now don’t you think you should get home and rest? It’s past six o’clock.”

  Roddy looked up with a miserable expression.

  “I’ll wait till bedtime and lights out, if I may. You won’t mind if I go home to bed, will you darling? I promise I’ll come back in the morning.”

  The child turned his face away, with a reluctant nod.

  *

  Nanny was in the sitting room reading, the two girls obviously asleep, judging by the lack of noise.

  “Mr Martel home yet?” Sue asked.

  “He came in looking for his supper. But when I said you weren’t back yet he went out again.” She returned to her book and her bar of chocolate.

  Sue went into her bedroom, realising for the first time as she glanced in the long mirror, that she was still in the working clothes she was wearing when Nanny had phoned for her that morning. She stripped off, longing to run down for a dip in the sea, but stepped under the shower instead. Jonathan hadn’t returned when she finished, so she hurried up the path to the hotel.

  He was in the bar. “Where the hell have you been all this time?” he snapped.

  “At the hospital! Where do you think?” She was in no mood for this.

  “It’s nearly eight o’ bloody clock . . .”

  “You yourself told me there was no need to hurry back!” she hissed, aware of stares from residents still enjoying their aperitifs before going in to dinner.

  “Quite. But I didn’t tell you to stay away indefinitely!” he snarled.

  “I couldn’t conceivably care less what you did or didn’t tell me. I did what I considered necessary,” she retorted, loud enough to be heard right through the room, “for which I do not require your permission.” She turned to order a drink, and realised Molly was standing behind the bar. “Hallo! What are you doing there?”

  Molly looked at Jonathan.

  “Jimmy has gone down with flu,” he said, “so as you weren’t here I had to ask Molly to step into the breach.” He was red with anger.

  “Splendid!” Sue smiled, thinking that the girl looked far more like a barmaid than a receptionist. “I’ll have a half of bitter, please.” Then to her husband, said, “I don’t feel like cooking tonight, so I’ll eat here in the dining room. Will you join me?”

  “Possibly.”

  Sue moved away, smiling at the hotel guests, acting as though she was quite unmoved by the scene. But inside she felt winded. It was hard to believe Jonathan’s moods could change so quickly, especially in this instance with Roddy in hospital!

  As on many previous occasions, Jonathan remained too furious to bring himself to apologise for his outburst.

  *

  The doctors concluded that Roddy was suffering the infant equivalent of migraine, prescribed microscopic amounts of pheno-barbitone, much to Sue’s alarm, and the boy was soon running around at home as though nothing had happened.

  Sarah sat watching him from her deckchair on the lawn. “Isn’t that typical of kids. They worry you stiff with sudden illnesses and flaring temperatures and by the time you’ve dosed your nerves to cope with the situation they are completely recovered and you are a shattered wreck!”

  “Thank goodness you were around, Mum!” Sue smiled appreciatively.

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “You moved into my hysterical household with your calming influence. That was more help than you realise.”

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see if the nanny was in hearing before whispering, “That girl is next best thing to a disaster. Doesn’t she drive you potty?”

  “Yes. But a real, qualified Norland Nanny is so expensive. Jonathan won’t hear of us having one. Anyway, I never wanted anyone else looking after my kids; every year I dream of a hugely successful season which would allow us to take on adequate staff so I could return to being housewife and mother.”

  “I know, d
arling. Frankly, I just don’t understand how you keep up the pace. You look worn out.”

  “As long as I have you on the end of the phone to moan to when I get fraught, I guess I’ll get by.” She reached for her mother’s hand and they sat side by side, fingers entwined, for several minutes.

  Both women laughed when they sighed contentedly at the same moment. Both knew they were happy that the rift between them caused by the war, was healed.

  *

  Two weeks later, Stephen Martel, junior partner to his architect father Ted, dropped in for a drink on the way home. He was surprised to find Sue behind the bar. “Got a new job, then?”

  “Not new, exactly. Our current barman’s flu turned to pleurisy. I’m standing in until he’s fit to come back to work. What are you drinking?”

  “A pint of bitter, thanks.”

  She was aware of him watching her as she drew the beer up from the barrel in the cellar.

  “How are you? How is your back coping with standing there by the hour.”

  “Fine, thanks.” She had no intention of boring him with the truth: that her back was agony by the end of each evening, there was a lumpy, varicose vein swelling in her right calf, and though she fell into bed exhausted each night, she seldom slept for more than three hours at a stretch.

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Have you looked for a temporary barman, or are you doing it yourself from choice?”

  It was nice of him to show that much interest. “No. And no again. Jonathan doesn’t think it’s worth getting someone in. Well, it is nearly the end of the season.”

  “But the bar is open to non-residents all year round. If you want someone to fill in, I don’t mind doing two or three evenings a week. Not Fridays, though. That’s my badminton night.”

  “What a kind offer. I’ll speak to Jonathan about it. We’ll pay you, of course.”

  “No, no . . .”

  “It would have to be a business arrangement. Family favours too often end in rows!”

  “Okay. If you insist. What are the hours?”

  “Flexible. The bar is open all day to residents during the season. I take over from Molly at four-thirty and stay on till closing.”

  “Surely it isn’t necessary to have the bar open all afternoon?” he tried to sound casual, but he was boiling inside. What the hell was his cousin Jonathan playing at? Couldn’t he see that Sue was grey with exhaustion?

  “I tried to talk himself into closing for two or three hours but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “I’ll be here tomorrow by six unless I hear to the contrary.” He took a long draft of beer. “Now tell me, how is Roddy?”

  Sue was relieved at the change of subject. Much as she appreciated other people’s concern, it did tend to arouse self-pity . . . which made it even more difficult to cope.

  *

  “Jonathan’s accident seems to have changed his character quite dramatically,” Steven remarked that night at dinner.

  “Hardly surprising, I suppose,” his mother, Julia, said as she placed spoonsful of cauliflower in white sauce neatly on each plate beside the lamb chops. “But in what way do you mean?”

  “He works Sue into the ground. The poor girl is on her feet from seven in the morning till midnight.”

  Ted picked up his knife and fork. “Well, only on the odd occasion in an emergency, surely?”

  “On the contrary! She’s been at it seven days a week for the past month, as far as I can gather.”

  “Steve, dear, that’s impossible,” Julia frowned at him. She was well aware that her son had carried a torch for Suzanne Gaudion when he was still at school long before the girl ever met Ted’s nephew Jonathan. She hoped he’d grown out of it. “Did she tell you that?”

  “Lord no! She wouldn’t dream of saying a word against Jonty, she’s very loyal.” Adding, “Too darned loyal for her own good.”

  Ted and Julia had always been very fond of Jonathan, and had taken a special interest in him especially since his father, Ted’s brother, died in his late fifties. They were proud of his war record and of the way he had settled into the hotel business. The tragedy of his accident had affected them both deeply, and Julia was reluctant to listen to any criticism of him. “Well it is surely up to her, isn’t it, to say if and when she is overtired?”

  Steve explained about the bar work. “I’ve told her I’ll help out in the evenings, sometimes, when I leave the office.”

  Ted looked up from his plate. “That’s very noble of you, I don’t doubt, but are you sure it’s wise? I mean, an emergency is one thing, but you can’t keep it up forever.”

  “I don’t mean to. But I regard the current situation as an emergency. You should see how rundown Sue looks at the moment.”

  Which was exactly what Julia intended to do.

  She arranged to meet Sarah in Town for a coffee, three days later, and wasted little time in niceties before launching her case. “How long is it since you’ve seen Sue?”

  “Er . . . not since last Wednesday. Why?”

  “How did you think she looked?”

  Sarah frowned at her friend. “Tired. Why?”

  “Just . . . tired?”

  Sarah made a moue. “Well, no, since you ask. She was grey with fatigue. So, come on, what’s this all about?”

  Julia sipped her coffee. “Steve came home the other evening, saying she was overworking and looked awful. Well, as you know, he has always had a soft spot for her and I guessed he was being over-protective, if you know what I mean.”

  Sarah nodded across the table.

  “But he stressed the point so strongly that I decided to go see for myself.”

  “That was sweet of you. And was he right?”

  “Frankly, dear, I have never seen her look so dreadful. It was about five in the afternoon, before Steve got there . . . well I didn’t want him to see me so I made sure to go early enough. I had made the excuse of taking a note about some phone call, quite unnecessary, of course, and I went into the bar pretending to be surprised at finding her there. Well,” she paused to sip more coffee, “she was totally fagged out. And the dreadful thing is that if Steve hadn’t intervened and insisted on going in to help in the bar in the evenings, she would have been there for another six hours!”

  Sarah’s mouth fell open. “Oh dear! I feel so guilty, Julia. I have thought she’s looked ill for months, but you know what it is, one hates to interfere. And when I mentioned it to Greg he laughed and said I was overdoing the mother hen bit.” She didn’t add that she had been feeling unwell herself, lately. “Well we’ll have to see what we can do. I’ll talk to Greg.”

  *

  “We’ve booked ourselves in for lunch on Sunday,” Sarah told Sue on the phone. “We haven’t seen much of you, lately. Maybe we could all take the children down on Port Grat afterwards, if it’s fine.”

  “Lovely idea, Mummy, but I’m afraid Jonathan and I won’t be able to come down to the beach. However, we’d love to see you. I’ll make sure we all eat together. And of course the meal is on us . . .”

  “No no, dear . . .”

  “Don’t be silly, Mummy! I can’t imagine why I haven’t asked you before. I’m afraid we’ve been so busy.”

  The family lunch party was a great success.

  “Do you often have lunch here with Daddy and Mummy?” Sarah asked Roddy.

  The child shook his head. “No. We never did before.”

  “Oh. You usually eat together at home, do you?”

  The blond head shook again. “No. Wiv Nanny.”

  Sue loved watching the conversation proceed between her mother and her son; their colouring was so different, he so fair and blue-eyed like his father, yet already with her mother’s determined chin and high cheekbones. “This is a special treat, isn’t it darling?”

  “How often do you eat together?” Greg asked.

  Sue shrugged. “Can’t remember the last time. It’s very difficult, you see.”

  “Yes of course. Mealtimes must be awkwa
rd. So, when do you spend time en famille?”

  Sue glanced at Jonathan. “Not much chance in the summer, unfortunately. Far too busy,” he told them.

  “Really!” Greg turned pointedly to Sue. “What time do you start in the mornings?”

  “Seven, seven-thirty.”

  “And finish?”

  “Depends. Six, when Steve helps out in the bar. Otherwise I’m on till closing time.”

  “And when is that?” Sarah was alarmed.

  Sue sighed. “When the last guest goes up to bed.”

  Greg and Sarah gasped.

  “Good grief! That is ridiculous, girl!” Greg retorted. “What are you trying to do to yourself? Commit suicide?” He swung round to face Jonathan. “Can’t you stop her?”

  “Not easily. When she sees work to be done I’m afraid she does it. But I agree with you. She is doing far too much.”

  Sarah launched into a lecture on mothering and homemaking; on the impracticability of having some young girl who calls herself a nanny, bringing up one’s children.

  At one stage Sue cleared her throat significantly, caught her mother’s eye and tilted her head, very slightly, towards the attentive Roddy.

  Sarah ignored the gesture. She had the bit between her teeth and, what was more, Jonathan was agreeing with every word she said.

  “I hope you’ve listened to all your mother’s been telling you, darling. You really must ease up,” he insisted.

  Sue glared at her empty cheese plate. The two-faced liar! How dared he speak like that, after the way he had behaved! Suddenly she realised that, despite all their arguments and upsets in the past, this was the first time she had actually felt, even momentarily, she could hate Jonathan.

  The same feeling swept over her again after her parents had left, when Jonathan swung his chair round to face her. “So you’ve been whining again, I see. Poor, badly-done-by little daughter, been running to her mummy and daddy? Aahh! We are all so sad for you. Silly bitch!” he turned away and propelled the chair out of the dining room.

  “What’s a bitch, Mummy?” Roddy asked.