A Woman's Courage

by S Block

  Certain she had lost him.

  ‘We have to take a collapse of this kind seriously,’ Dr Rosen said. The peculiar dizziness Bryn had experienced before he blacked out, coupled with his high blood pressure, caused the doctor to suspect he had suffered a mild stroke. She ordered bed rest and, in the days that followed, called in regularly to check on Bryn’s progress.

  Gradually, he showed signs of improvement. He was sleeping less, looking better, a little colour back in his face – well enough to get up, Dr Rosen said.

  ‘Treat it as a warning,’ Dr Rosen told Bryn. ‘A sign you’ve been pushing your body too hard. You’re going to have to learn to slow down, which means no rushing or pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion. Moderation in all things. ’

  ‘Can I still work?’ Bryn wanted to know.

  ‘As long as you’re sensible about it and not doing anything too strenuous,’ the doctor said, replacing her stethoscope in its box and sliding it back inside her bag. ‘I imagine a lot of what you do requires a fair amount of effort – handling carcasses, for instance. ’

  Bryn glanced at Miriam. ‘I do all that. I’m used to it, and David can’t help with that side of things now, with his injuries. But it’s never been more than I can manage. All in a day’s work, that’s the way I look at it. ’

  ‘Not anymore, I’m afraid,’ Dr Rosen said. ‘I really can’t emphasise how vital it is for you to take heed of what your body’s telling you. This is an opportunity to reconsider how you do things. ’ She saw his look of disappointment. ‘It needn’t be a bad thing. Think about what you can manage rather than what you can’t. I see no reason why you can’t still be fully involved in the business – provided you stick to less challenging work. Lighter duties and fewer hours, I suggest. Follow my advice and there’s every chance your body will continue to serve you well. Be glad it had the courtesy to warn you to make some changes – not everyone is as fortunate. The last thing any of us wants to see now is a return to the kind of behaviour that might put you at risk of another collapse. ’ She gave him a stern look. ‘One which might prove more serious. ’

  ‘We need to listen to what the doctor says,’ Miriam said. ‘We’ll do as we’re told. I never want to go through that again, worrying sick I might lose you. ’

  ‘It was just a funny turn, Mim. I’m feeling fine now. ’

  ‘You felt fine before and look what happened. ’ Miriam sent an exasperated look at Dr Rosen. ‘We have to take this seriously. Making sure you stay well is the priority now, whatever it takes. ’

  Bryn thought for a moment. ‘We’ll not manage if I take a step back,’ he said, with a wince. ‘There’s no one else who can do my job. David can’t take on the heavy work – you know he can’t, not with his back the way it is. If I’m careful and take my time about things, like the doctor says, I don’t see why I won’t be able to keep doing my old job. Just at a slower pace. ’ He looked hopefully at Dr Rosen. ‘We’re busy expanding into next door. If ever there was a bad time to be taking things easy, this is it. ’

  Dr Rosen regarded him over the top of her horn-rimmed spectacles. ‘Mr Brindsley,’ she began, ‘I appreciate this is a difficult time for you and your family, but it would be a dereliction of duty on my part if I allowed you to think you’ll be able to carry on as before, albeit, as you say, at a slower pace. The slower pace is simply part of the picture. I hope I’ve made clear that the nature of the work you do will also have to change. ’ She frowned. ‘I’m not telling you this to make life unpleasant for you but in order to keep you alive. ’

  Bryn stayed silent.

  ‘We’ll think of something,’ Miriam said, her eyes on her husband.

  Miriam was impressed by Myra Rosen. She ’d only been in the village a short time, brought in by Erica Campbell when her husband, Will, was dying from lung cancer. Myra was relatively young – in her late twenties, Miriam guessed – which led some (Miriam included) to question how fitting a replacement she could possibly be for the highly regarded Dr Campbell. Some people in the village also doubted just how successful a female doctor could be. Yet in the space of a few months, she ’d proved herself a force to be reckoned with. Dr Myra Rosen was self-assured, authoritative and straight to the point. What Miriam had once taken to be arrogance was, she now suspected, simply an expression of the young doctor’s confidence. Although Myra could at times appear brusque and uncompromising in her attitude, Miriam had seen first-hand in her treatment of Bryn how dedicated and determined she was to do the absolute best for her patients. Miriam knew that Bryn’s health was in good hands.

  Myra snapped shut the bulky leather bag that accompanied her on home visits. There was something old-fashioned about her; few young women would have favoured the heavy tweeds she so often wore, or the glasses with their thick frames. Her hair was pinned back in a severe style, her face bare of make-up. The overall effect was that she cared little about her appearance. She was the kind of woman who demanded to be taken seriously.

  ‘I’m off, then,’ she said, doing up the buttons of her boxy jacket. ‘If you’re worried about anything, let me know, but I’m pleased to say you’re on the mend, Mr Brindsley. Another week and you’ll be feeling very much better. ’

  ‘What’s the point if I can’t pull my weight?’ Bryn grumbled once Dr Rosen had left. ‘I might as well give up. ’

  ‘I won’t have that kind of talk,’ Miriam told him. ‘You’re a husband and a father and your family needs you, so don’t think for a moment I’ll stand to see you feeling sorry for yourself. How’s that going to help any of us? You heard what the doctor said – you’re one of the lucky ones. ’

  Bryn looked perplexed. ‘I’m not so sure about that. ’

  ‘Plenty of people don’t get a second chance. ’ She sat on the bed and took hold of his hand. ‘We’re blessed, Bryn, can’t you see it? Look at David, look at you. And our perfect little girl . . . pulled from the wreckage of a plane crash with not so much as a scratch on her. If that’s not lucky, I don’t know what is. ’

  He thought for a moment. ‘You don’t ever worry that we’re only due to have so much luck?’

  Miriam shook her head. ‘Never. I trust things will work out for us because they always have. As long as we pull in the same direction, we can get through anything. ’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I don’t want you worrying about the shop, or the new business. It’s all in hand. We’ll manage, I promise. We’ll find a way of coping. ’

  *

  Bryn spent the afternoon in the living room playing with Vivian under Miriam’s watchful gaze. At closing time, Miriam went into the shop to give David a hand clearing up, leaving Bryn in the kitchen warming through a pan of soup – the most she was prepared to allow him to do on his first day out of bed.

  ‘The doctor made it clear your dad has to take it easy,’ she told David as she wiped down the counter. ‘No going back to how things were before. You know your dad – he’ll think he’s up to doing a lot more than he really is, so we’ll need to keep an eye on him. I don’t want him having another attack. ’

  David was quiet. ‘Ma, you don’t think . . . ’

  She turned to look at him. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just, I can’t help thinking it’s my fault what happened. ’

  ‘Why in heaven’s name would you think such a thing?’

  ‘Because it was me that pushed him to take on the new shop when we were doing fine as we were. I could see he wasn’t sure, but I wouldn’t let it drop. I kept going on about it, how we couldn’t afford to stand still and we ’d feel sick if someone else moved in next door and turned it into a goldmine. It was selfish of me, wanting things my own way. What if the only reason he agreed to go ahead was to keep me happy, and now . . . ’ He bit his lip, fighting tears. ‘The night he collapsed, I wasn’t even here. I was out enjoying myself, leaving you to cope on your own. I’m so sorry, Ma. I can’t stop thinking about it, what it must have been
like for you, finding him . . . ’ He looked away.

  ‘Now, you listen to me,’ Miriam said. ‘For one thing, you didn’t push him into doing anything he didn’t want to. The two of us talked it all through, looked at the figures, and agreed it made absolute sense for us to take over next door’s premises. You’re right, we do want you to be happy, of course we do, and we ’d already talked about whether the shop as it is now would be enough in the long term. So, yes, that was a factor – but we ’d never have gone ahead unless we were sure it was the right thing to do for the business. ’ She took a breath. ‘As for what happened to your dad that night, you can’t stay home on the off-chance we might need you. More than anything, we want you to get out and live your life. ’

  The door to the shop opened and Jenny’s blonde bob appeared. She was in her WAAF uniform, on her way home after a shift at Tabley Wood. ‘All right to come in? I wanted to call and see how Mr Brindsley’s doing. ’

  ‘That’s kind of you, love,’ Miriam said. ‘He’s up and about, keeping an eye on Vivian – or the other way round, it’s hard to tell – and getting the tea ready. As long as he takes things steady he can come back to work in a day or two. ’

  ‘That’s great news,’ Jenny said. ‘It’ll be a relief once things are back to normal again. ’ She caught the concerned look that passed between Miriam and David. ‘What it is?’ she asked.

  ‘The lifting side of things,’ Miriam explained. ‘Bryn’s not going to be able to do any of it from now on. Doctor’s orders. We just need to work something out. ’

  Jenny looked at David, knowing he was in no position to step in. ‘What will you do? How will you get round it?’

  Miriam managed an anxious smile. ‘We’ve not got that far yet. ’

  Jenny thought for a moment. ‘Have you got a spare apron?’ she asked. ‘I’ve had an idea. ’

  Chapter 19

  A

  LISON AND JOHN WERE out walking, enjoying the countryside beyond the village, the little dog scampering about, stopping abruptly here and there to sniff at something interesting. John picked up a stick. ‘Here, girl, fetch,’ he called, hurling the stick. The dog looked up at him, tail wagging, making no move to go after it. ‘Go on, get your stick,’ John urged.

  The dog pawed at his foot.

  Alison burst out laughing. ‘More sense than to go chasing sticks, that one. ’

  John was laughing too. ‘I just need time to train her, teach her a few tricks. ’

  After a lengthy debate, they had decided to name the dog Elsa. John had come up with the idea of calling her after a character from a film starring Boris Karloff, the actor they both admired so much, and Alison suggested Elsa Lanchester from The Bride of Frankenstein. The name seemed to suit the little dog.

  In recent weeks, John’s visits from Liverpool had become more frequent, ostensibly to see how the dog was settling in. If the weather was fine, Alison packed a picnic and they took Elsa out, going deep into the Cheshire countryside, tramping for miles. The dog seemed delighted with its new surroundings, finding everything worthy of investigation.

  ‘It’s good for her to get out into the fresh air and have a run,’ Alison said.

  ‘Good for us too,’ John said, gazing into the distance. They had found a spot for their picnic at Beeston Castle, high enough to see the range of hills in the distance. He tilted his hat lower over his eyes to shield them from the hot August sun. ‘Looks like the rain’s falling over there. We’re in the right place. ’

  Alison followed his gaze. ‘I think those are the Pennines, but don’t take my word for it. I have a very poor sense of direction. ’ She poured tea from a flask and they sat for a moment in silence.

  ‘Up here, you can almost forget the madness going on in the city,’ John said.

  ‘We’re lucky – we’ve experienced nothing of the devastation Liverpool’s seen. But you’ve lost your home, everything. ’

  He smiled. ‘Not everything. I’m doing all right. ’ He looked away. The dog ran up and flopped at his feet, panting. He reached down and scratched her ear. ‘Same as this one, eh, girl?’

  ‘I owe you an apology,’ Alison said, ‘for being so offhand about you bringing the dog. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was so opposed to the idea. ’

  John smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter now. It’s all forgotten. ’

  After a moment, she asked, ‘Do you mind living in the hostel?’

  ‘I’m glad to have a roof over my head, and it’s not so bad. A bit noisy at night. That’s when you can get trouble among one or two of the fellas. Squabbles over things going missing, someone accusing one of his room-mates of stealing from him. Smokes, that kind of thing. After a drink or two, well, you know. ’ He shrugged.

  Alison didn’t know. She suspected he was making things sound less awful than they really were. When men were herded together in poor conditions there was bound to be trouble. Squabbles, John had said. More likely vicious fights. And it couldn’t be easy, being the only black man in the place. If she asked, would he tell her?

  It occurred to her that she was immune from many of the worst aspects of war. Her own home was comfortable and safe, her nights undisturbed. She had a shelter to go to should the siren sound. She had peace and privacy, no need to worry about strangers picking fights. She struggled to picture the hostel that was John’s home. Rows of hard, narrow beds, she imagined, a single scratchy blanket, no privacy, nowhere to keep your belongings safe.

  ‘Have you had any trouble?’ she asked.

  ‘Everyone has trouble. ’ He glanced at her. ‘Nothing serious, though, not so far. ’

  ‘I don’t know how you can stand it. ’

  ‘There are plenty worse off than me. ’

  Did he ever complain? she wondered. Whatever the difficulties he might encounter, John was one of those extraordinary individuals who always preferred to count their blessings. Nothing serious. It could have been his motto. When she thought back to the lack of tolerance among some of the villagers when he and the other trekkers began arriving in Great Paxford, she felt mortified. Members of the WI were among those opposed to the idea of offering assistance to people who were clearly in dire straits.

  Alison glanced at John, propped up on an elbow, hat pushed back on his head; eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun. She was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat to save her fair skin from burning. His skin was perfect, unblemished and unlined. It was almost impossible to tell by looking at him that he was fifty-three, just a few years older than her.

  He opened his eyes and sat up. ‘Out here you can almost believe the world’s a peaceful place. ’

  Alison nodded. ‘We have to hope it will be once more, when the fighting’s over. ’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Be honest,’ she said. ‘Is it awful where you’re living?’

  John gave a slight smile. ‘It’s not forever. ’

  ‘That’s not what I asked. ’

  ‘It depends what you call awful. ’

  She again considered her own surroundings, where she could sit undisturbed in the evenings in the front room, wireless on, Elsa curled up under the sideboard.

  ‘I don’t suppose you even have facilities to cook or make a cup of tea?’

  ‘There’s a place I can get something to eat, one of those workers’ cafés not far from the docks. Most of the area’s flattened but Hughes’s is still standing. The woman who runs it does a bit of baking once or twice a week. ’ He grinned. ‘Some of the pastries, I couldn’t tell you what’s in them, but they taste all right. Penny a piece. ’ He nodded at their picnic basket. ‘Not as good as this. ’

  Alison smiled solemnly as she began to unpack their picnic: slices of corned beef and home-made pickle, hunks of fresh bread and tomatoes from the garden. Elsa sat up, suddenly alert. Alison handed her a carrot, which she took away and held between her front paws like a bone as she demolished it.

  ‘She likes
carrots?’ John sounded surprised.

  ‘I dropped one in the kitchen the other night and she pounced straight on it. Seems to enjoy them. It’s the one thing we’re not short of, so whenever she’s after a treat that’s what she gets. ’

  ‘Somehow, I can’t picture Boris crunching on a carrot. ’

  ‘No – but he was thoroughly spoiled, always wanting some of whatever I had to eat. My own fault – I never could resist when he gave me one of his pleading looks. ’ Alison smiled. ‘I’m trying to be a bit stricter with this one. ’

  John reached for the flask and poured more tea into their cups. ‘Be nice to stay up here,’ he said, looking out across the patchwork of fields, the pockets of woodland. ‘Forget about the rest of the world for a bit. ’

  Alison glanced at him. ‘I was thinking,’ she said, slowly, ‘why don’t you come and live with me?’

  *

  Alison called on Teresa later that afternoon, and found her in an apron rolling out pastry. ‘Jam tarts,’ she announced, sounding pleased. ‘This time last year I hadn’t the faintest idea about baking, and now look at me. And I can stomach the smell now as well. Give me a minute and I’ll get them in the oven. ’

  Alison watched her cutting the pastry into rounds. As casually as she could manage, she mentioned she had offered her spare room to John.

  It was enough to stop Teresa – busy spooning jam into the pastry cases – in her tracks. ‘John? Moving in with you?’ She was wide-eyed. ‘That’s . . . wonderful news. ’

  ‘The same sort of arrangement we had,’ Alison explained. ‘Paying rent, all above board and perfectly proper, in case anyone wants to know. Where he’s living now sounds dreadful. It’s some kind of hostel, too many people, everyone piled in on top of each other. I don’t even think it’s safe. Fights, all kinds of trouble. He can’t stay there, which is why I suggested he come to me. It seemed . . . the right thing to do. ’