by Nancy Revell
Hannah nodded, rushing off, leaving Olly looking after her dolefully like an abandoned puppy.
Five minutes later Gloria came bustling out of the canteen’s main entrance, shrugging on her coat and swinging her gas mask and holdall over her shoulders. She strode quickly over to Rosie, who was just coming out of the timekeeper’s cabin. As soon as Gloria reached her, Rosie took her to the side of the main gates.
‘He’s woken up, Gloria! Jack’s woken up!’
Gloria took one long look at her boss as if registering the information, then suddenly put her hands to her face and started sobbing uncontrollably. Rosie immediately put her arms around her workmate and could feel her body juddering as she cried tears of sheer relief. It was as if months of pent-up emotions had suddenly been released.
‘Oh, thank God. Thank God …’ Rosie heard Gloria’s muffled words of gratitude between deep intakes of breath. Gloria stepped back, wiping the tears from her wet, dirt-smeared face. Rosie had never seen her friend so emotional and upset.
‘Is he all right? I’m guessing it’s good news if he’s woken up?’ Gloria asked.
‘I think so,’ Rosie said a little uncertainly, ‘but I don’t know much more than he’s out of the coma and he’s at the Royal … which is why,’ she added, ‘I think you should go up there this afternoon.’ Gloria looked at her boss and then up at the timekeeper’s cabin.
As if reading her thoughts, Rosie said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve had a word with Alfie, and he’s said he’ll turn a blind eye. I’ve told him it’s a family emergency. So, get yourself home, get cleaned up and get yourself up there. I’m pretty sure Miriam and Helen are both meant to be coming in this afternoon for a meeting with the head honchos, so this might be the perfect opportunity.’
Gloria’s face was suddenly awash with panic. Finally, she was going to be reunited with her lover. With the father of her child. She had waited nine months for this moment and had seriously doubted that it would happen at all. Now that time had come, though, she felt terrified.
‘Go on, Gloria,’ Rosie said, her voice excited for her friend. ‘Go and see Jack. Tell him he’s got the most beautiful baby girl ever!’
‘Yes, of course. Yes,’ Gloria said, adding, ‘Thank you, Rosie.’
‘Nothing to thank me for,’ Rosie said. ‘Now go!’
Rosie watched as Gloria walked out of the main gates in a daze and disappeared up the embankment. Rosie wished she or one of the other women could have gone with her, but questions would have been asked, and besides, Rosie knew this was something Gloria had to do on her own.
Chapter Fourteen
Gloria’s mind was spinning with a multitude of thoughts and feelings as she took a tram and then a bus back home. But it was the memory of the final moments of Hope’s birth that kept being pinged back into her consciousness: The vision she’d had of Jack’s smiling face. It had felt as if he had really been there with her.
When Gloria arrived home, she had a quick wash and changed out of her overalls and into a skirt and blouse. Only then did the news that Jack had woken from his coma start to sink in. And as it did so, an overwhelming wave of euphoria washed over her and Gloria found herself standing in the middle of her bedroom, smiling and crying tears of joy.
She was going to have her happy ending. Jack was alive – awake! Hope was finally going to meet her father. They could all be together. One happy family. Sod everyone else. Nothing could part them now!
Spurred on by imagining Jack’s face when they saw each other, Gloria opened her dresser drawer and put on a little mascara and some lipstick. She even dabbed a smudge of rouge on her cheeks. She took off her headscarf and brushed out her shoulder-length hair that had become even thicker and glossier since her pregnancy. She then pushed her feet into a pair of flat leather pumps and headed out the door. She hurried to the bus stop, just managing to catch a bus into town.
Ten minutes later she was walking through the grand, stone-porched entrance of the Royal Infirmary.
‘Calm down,’ Gloria told herself. Her heart felt it was going to burst out of her chest. She was breathless with excitement.
‘Hello,’ Gloria said and smiled politely at the young receptionist behind a mahogany counter. ‘Can you tell me what ward Mr Jack Crawford’s on, please?’
There were a few seconds’ silence as the girl, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen, quickly scanned through a long admissions list.
‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘Ward 17 on the first floor. You’ll just catch the end of visiting hours.’
Good, Gloria thought. If any family have been in, they should be gone by now.
Hurrying up the stairs Gloria had to stop herself from running. All of a sudden she couldn’t wait a moment longer. She had to see Jack, kiss him, feel his arms around her, tell him all about Hope and just how wonderful and perfect and gorgeous the child they had created was.
Two more minutes and Gloria was pushing open the two heavy swing doors to Ward 17.
The nurse at the desk by the door smiled at Gloria and asked who she had come to see.
‘Jack Crawford,’ Gloria told her, all the while her eyes searching the ward. She took two steps forward as she heard the nurse’s voice telling her, ‘Bed number six, just on your left there.’ But Gloria had already spotted him. Her heart was in her mouth. She had to restrain herself from shouting out his name, and instead hurried over to his bed. He was looking the other way, as if watching something further down the ward.
As she approached, Gloria softly called ‘Jack.’ It took a moment for him to turn to see who was calling his name.
Gloria stopped in her tracks when she saw her lover’s weather-beaten face turn towards her. She knew every nuance of that face; every wrinkle and every scar from his years spent building ships. His face was pale and gaunt and it was clear, at just a glance, that he had lost an awful lot of weight. She walked towards the bed, looking into his grey-blue eyes.
‘Jack,’ she said, her own eyes lighting up in anticipation of finally being reunited with the man she loved so very much. But when Jack looked back at her, there was nothing.
No smile. No change in his facial expression. Not even a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
She hurried the last few steps to his bedside. ‘Jack, it’s me … Gloria.’
But still Jack just looked at her blankly.
‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ Jack’s voice sounded frail and his eyes squinted as if the light from the overhead fluorescent tubes was too much for him. He looked exhausted, as if the effort to speak was almost too much.
‘Of course you do, Jack. It’s me, Gloria. Remember?’
Now Gloria was beginning to become fraught. What the hell was going on? Did he really not know who she was?
She wanted to grab hold of Jack and shake him, scream at him that it was her. Gloria. The woman he had not wanted to leave. The woman who told him he had to leave – to do his bit for the war and go to America to help with the new Liberty ships. The woman who had waited for him – thought about him all day, every day. Worried about him. Cried herself to sleep at night with thoughts that she might never see him again.
Was this some sick joke? No. Her Jack would never do something so perverse.
But how come he didn’t know who she was?
Perhaps it was a bad dream. A nightmare she just needed to wake up from.
‘Excuse me?’
Gloria jumped, turning around to see a young man, a doctor in a white coat, his hands clasped together in front of him, a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles on his head.
‘I’m sorry, madam. I didn’t mean to give you a shock,’ the doctor said with sincerity. ‘Do you mind me asking what relation you are to Mr Crawford?’
Gloria looked at the very young, very nicely spoken doctor.
‘I’m,’ she hesitated, ‘I’m …’ another pause. ‘I’m an old friend.’ She managed to get the words out.
‘Do you mind telling me your name?’ the doctor persisted
.
‘Mrs Armstrong … but please just call me Gloria …’
As she said her name, Gloria could have sworn she saw a look of recognition pass across the young man’s face. She looked at his coat and could see the surname ‘Parker’ on a badge half-hidden by his lapel.
‘Ah, Mrs Armstrong, would you mind if we go somewhere for a private chat.’
Gloria’s head swung back to Jack, as if he might have suddenly remembered who she was, ending this nightmare into which she had been propelled.
But still there was nothing. No recognition. Just a polite smile – the kind strangers give to one another as they pass on the street.
Bewildered, Gloria allowed herself to be guided by the doctor into a little side room. There was a metal desk covered with stacks of files and papers. The doctor stretched out his arm to indicate that Gloria should sit down in the empty seat. As he did so, he swiftly pulled out his own chair from behind the desk and placed it within arm’s reach of Gloria.
‘I’m afraid your friend’s had a rough old time out of it.’ The doctor started talking, as Gloria stared at him blankly. ‘His body’s been through quite a lot of trauma these past few weeks …’
Gloria was looking at the doctor’s almost juvenile and, as yet, unblemished face, and for a second she thought of her own boys, who must be around the same age.
‘He suffered hypothermia after being in the water for so long, coupled with the fact that he nearly drowned. His body basically shut down.’
He looked at this woman – the woman his patient had called out for. The one he was sure was Mr Crawford’s mistress. But he had to admit to himself that she looked nothing like he had imagined. Sitting there in her slightly frayed tweed skirt and a blouse that was more than a little outdated, she did not look like your stereotypical ‘fancy piece’. If anything this woman looked more like the frumpy wife – and Mrs Crawford the mistress. The pair of them were like polar opposites. Unlike Mrs Crawford, who was as thin as a pin, and perfectly coiffured and manicured, Mr Crawford’s ‘friend’ was carrying more than a little extra weight. She had obviously made an effort to appear her best as she was wearing make-up, but it looked as if it had been put on in a dash. If he hadn’t known better he would have said this was a bedraggled working mum who had a young family to look after, although, judging by her age, any children she might have had would probably be grown up now.
‘It’s incredible he’s regained consciousness.’ The doctor searched Gloria’s face, trying to see if she was taking in what he was saying. ‘To be honest,’ he continued, ‘we were worried he was past the point of no return. It’s really surprising that he’s pulled through. Not many patients come round after the four-week marker. But what is particularly great news,’ the doctor pressed on, ‘… is the fact that he’s made a massive improvement over the past five days since he woke up. He’s talking now, and can sit up – and he’s even managed to walk around the ward a few times.’
The doctor smiled at Gloria, but he was still concerned that she didn’t seem to comprehend what he was telling her. She looked confused.
‘He’s a strong chap,’ Dr Parker lifted his voice, ‘made of hardy stuff, I can tell you!’
And it was true. He’d been totally gobsmacked that his patient had regained consciousness in the first place.
‘I would go so far as to say that this is almost a miracle,’ he said, speaking more slowly and genuinely wanting to stress the positives – before he dropped the bombshell. ‘But,’ he added, taking a breath, ‘I’m afraid Mr Crawford didn’t come out of all of this totally unscathed … There has been a price to pay.’
He took another deep breath.
Gloria, sitting rigidly, was now clearly concentrating on every word coming out of the doctor’s mouth.
‘When Jack was drowning,’ Dr Parker explained, ‘his brain was deprived of oxygen, although we don’t know for how long … It would seem that the lack of oxygen caused some damage to a part of the brain which affects memory.’
Finally he saw a look of realisation begin to pass across the woman’s face.
‘Mr Crawford would appear to be suffering from something we call in the profession “retrograde amnesia”. In other words, he appears to have lost his memory.’
Gloria looked shocked.
‘That’s why he doesn’t recognise me …’ It was a statement rather than a question.
Dr Parker nodded solemnly. ‘You and just about everyone else he has ever known … The mind’s a very complex organ,’ the doctor continued, now confident that what he had been telling her was being processed.
‘So, although Mr Crawford might not be able to really remember who he is, he still knows how to walk, talk, and basically how to behave and function. And it’s likely he will be able to remember things from now on in. In fact, we’re pretty certain he can. He has remembered who I am, for instance – and the nurses. So, it’s really just his past that he’s presently missing.
‘Which is why,’ he stressed slowly, ‘even if someone was very important to him before, he will not be able to remember them now.’
The last words were said in as professional, but comforting, a manner as he could muster. He felt sorry for this woman who sat opposite him now. He could tell that she had not had an easy life.
‘Does that mean Jack’ll never get his memory back, Dr Parker?’ Gloria was now finding her voice, forcing herself to get with it. This was important.
‘I’m afraid only time will tell on that score. There is the possibility that he will get his memory back in full, but,’ he paused, ‘there is also the possibility that he will remain an amnesiac for the rest of his life.’
Gloria sat silent for a moment, letting the doctor’s words sink in.
She looked up at his face, and for the first time noticed he looked tired, and his eyes were bloodshot. She stood up to leave. She knew there was nothing else that he could really tell her.
‘Thank you, Dr Parker,’ Gloria said, holding her hand out. ‘Thank you for your time – and for explaining everything to me.’
The young doctor shook Gloria’s hand. He knew he wouldn’t see her here again. He was pretty sure his suspicions were right. She had taken quite a chance coming here today. The man’s wife and daughter had left only about ten minutes before she had arrived. She must have been pretty desperate to take such a risk.
‘You’re welcome, Mrs Armstrong,’ he said, before adding, ‘here’s hoping.’
As Gloria left the consultation room she took one last look at Jack. He looked pale and was half dozing, propped up by pillows in his bed. Her whole being yearned to go over to him, to wrap him gently in her arms and hold him, to kiss him, to make him better. Make him remember. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to leave, even if every cell in her body pleaded with her to stay and never leave her lover’s side.
As she forced herself to turn away, she caught sight of a photograph that had been placed on his bedside table. It was a black and white photograph of Jack and Miriam on their wedding day. They were covered in confetti and laughing.
Gloria managed to make it out of the hospital before she burst into heaving sobs. She staggered to a little alleyway down the side of the main stone-pillared entrance so no one could see her in such a state, and with her back leaning against the wall, she allowed heartbreak to pour out of her untamed as she bent over double. Her tears blinded her and stung as her mascara ran into her eyes; her nose streamed and she felt the urge to vomit.
She loved this man, had borne him a child just a month previously, and yet she had no rights to him. It was Miriam’s right to be there – even though she had no love for Jack.
It was Miriam who was the wife and, therefore, it was she who would look after Jack.
The frustration ripped through her. Her powerlessness. The total injustice of it. One simple photograph placed on a bedside table had said it all: Jack was Miriam’s. And as long as his memory remained at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, he always would be.
Both Gloria and Hope would be erased from his life for ever.
‘You all right, pet?’ asked a young woman walking past the hospital’s entrance, who had spotted her in the alleyway.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.’ Gloria straightened herself up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
The concerned passer-by continued on her way, while Gloria forced herself to leave the shade of the narrow passageway and go back out on to the street. Her legs walked her to the bus stop and her mouth spoke the words that told the bus conductor where she wanted to go, and her hands found the appropriate change in her purse and handed it over – but her mind was in turmoil, unable to take on board what had happened these past couple of hours.
Just over an hour ago, as she had sat, possibly on this very same bus, on her way to see Jack, she had been almost drunk with happiness and expectation. The gratitude she felt that her lover had been spared – that he was awake and alive – and by all accounts well – was overwhelming.
But then, within minutes of entering the hospital, it was as if her heart had been bludgeoned to a pulp. The physical pain in her chest actually felt real. The crushing hurt and confusion she had felt when Jack had looked at her as though she was a stranger had made her feel as if she was having the life slowly squeezed out of her.
As Gloria got off at her stop and walked back to her house, she wondered if perhaps this was her punishment. She had been brought up to believe in good and evil, in saving yourself for marriage, and that it was a sin to commit adultery. Was she getting her just deserts?
If she was, it could be no crueller. Jack, the man she had loved twice over in her life, who she had lost once already when she was just a young woman, was now lost to her again. She didn’t think she could bear it. Her whole being felt battered, as if she had finally been given one hurt too many and it had pushed her down on to her knees and she did not have the strength or the will to stand up.
Her heart had been torn apart yet again and this time she doubted she would ever be able to piece it back together.