by Annie Groves
Tommy heard the low, mournful wail of a foghorn in the distance and knew he was near his beloved River Mersey. Not long now, he thought. Almost there.
‘I’m coming home, Kit,’ he gasped as another wave of nausea engulfed him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Determined to get home to the warmth of her fireside after staying behind at work to bake some pies for the next day, Kitty marched up Empire Street as the tantalising smell of the steak and kidney pie wafted to her nostrils. Well, she had to sample her own cooking and Danny was a good judge of pies. Her stomach growled and she hoped he had the fire going and the kettle on. She was parched.
Reaching inside the letterbox, covered by the lion’s head knocker, she felt around in the darkness for the key that hung on a piece of string inside the door.
‘Kitty, is that you?’ Danny called as she closed the front door behind her and pulled the thick curtain across to keep out draughts and cover any light that may be visible in the blackout, giving Pop Feeny no cause to give vent to instructions to ‘Put that light out!’
‘Of course it’s me, Danny. Did you think we were being invaded?’ Kitty hurried along the narrow passage as the kitchen door quickly opened. ‘What have you been up to this time, Dan?’ she said in a low voice, knowing her brother had irons in many fires. However, she did not really want to know about them. What the eye didn’t see the heart could not grieve over. He did look uneasy, though, she mused. Her heart plummeted.
‘What is it, Dan? Are you ill? You look awful.’ Kitty was almost too afraid to ask.
‘Come and have a look at this, Kit,’ Danny said, standing aside to let Kitty into the kitchen. Kitty gasped, completely unprepared for the sight that met her eyes. The room was freezing and there was no fire in the grate. Quickly she hurried to the couch to see her young brother covered in Danny’s overcoat.
‘Tommy!’ she cried. ‘Oh my word, what’s happened to him, Danny? Why is he here?’ Tommy lay so pale and still that Kitty feared he was not even breathing.
‘I found him out in the back yard when I came in from work.’ Danny’s voice cracked as he looked down at their nine-year-old brother. It was difficult to tell if he was alive or dead.
‘Oh my God!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘Where has he been?’
She saw only the filthy condition of the child huddled under the coat and, bending, she scooped Tommy’s thin body into her arms. The heat that rose from his shattered little body was quite at odds with the freezing atmosphere of the austere room.
‘He’s been sick all over the yard, Kit.’ There was a sob in Danny’s voice. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’ The child was almost weightless, and Kitty looked down into his stricken face, his sunken eyes remaining closed as she held his emaciated body close. His breathing was frighteningly shallow now, and Kitty knew that she would have to move fast.
‘Danny, see if Rita’s home from the hospital!’
Danny was already out of the door and he returned moments later with Rita.
‘Good God!’ Rita said. ‘Has he been attacked? Look at those bruises on his face!’
‘Rita, please tell me he’s going to be all right!’ Kitty’s face was soaked with tears and she was visibly shaking.
‘What happened?’ Rita asked as she opened each of Tommy’s eyelids in turn. ‘Kitty, we have to get him to hospital right now. Danny, go and get Pop. Tell him he needs to get the horse out of the stable straight away.’
‘I’ll go and get a blanket,’ Kitty cried, and hurried up the stairs. She would die if anything happened to her brother, her baby boy whom she had raised since the day he was born.
Kitty dragged the heavy grey blanket from the bed and took the stairs so fast she almost fell down them. When she entered the kitchen, Danny was back with the news that Pop was getting out the horse and cart, and Rita was cradling Tommy in her arms.
‘Get me some water, Danny, hurry.’ Rita’s voice took on the professional tone she used at all times at the hospital. ‘I’ve got to cool him down as quickly as possible.’
‘What shall I put it in?’ Danny asked desperately.
‘Anything!’ Rita did not mean to sound harsh, but she had to be firm as their fear was making them oblivious to anything else but Tommy. ‘I have to break this fever.’
‘He’s been asleep since I found him,’ Danny wailed, hurrying into the stone-floored kitchen. ‘He was sick on me as I carried him in, and he still didn’t wake up.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ Kitty said.
‘No it’s not, Kitty,’ Rita said firmly. ‘You could never have prevented this.’
‘I should have paid attention to his letters, he tried to tell me that something was wrong! And I never went to see him. He must have thought I’d forgotten him!’
‘No, Kitty.’ Rita sighed and tried to make her friend listen. ‘I’m sure he didn’t, but we haven’t got choices any more. We have to do as we are told now.’
‘Kit,’ Danny said, a little calmer now, ‘you know we would have moved heaven and earth to get to Southport if we’d known he was sick.’
Rita opened Tommy’s mouth and, with the small torch she carried in her uniform pocket she peered again down his throat. Danny stroked the translucent skin on his brother’s cheek.
‘Don’t worry, Tom, we’re here now, we’ll look after you.’
‘May God forgive you, Mrs Hood,’ Kitty said through clenched teeth as Rita placed the cool cloth on Tommy’s forehead, ‘because I never will.’ Little Tommy did not stir and Rita’s heart went out to her friend.
‘I got a letter from Sid this morning,’ Nancy said, thrilled that Gloria had called round with some matinée coats and a dozen towelling nappies as a present from some of the girls she worked with at George Henry Lee. ‘He said to keep looking for a place of our own … I’ve been doing nothing else,’ she added, looking to make sure the parlour door was closed.
‘Why?’ Gloria asked. ‘Isn’t she easy to get along with?’ She nodded to the wall that separated the parlour from the kitchen where Sid’s mother lived.
Nancy had lived in the parlour since they married and it was obvious by the wrinkling of her nose at the mention of Mrs Kerrigan’s name that they did not get on.
‘She’s glued to the wireless listening to Lord Haw-Haw spouting about how many aircraft the Germans have shot down or ships they’ve sunk,’ Nancy said. ‘It’s all lies and propaganda but she will not have it. She loves the drama – and probably has a glass to the wall as we speak.’
‘You can’t half pick them, Nance,’ Gloria laughed.
‘She’s miffed because Sid sends his pay to me and not her; she says she should have it because she has the house to keep so it’s only right she should get the housekeeping. Miserly old witch.’
‘Tell her where to go, Nance. I would,’ Gloria answered, sipping the tea Nancy had made.
‘She’s sitting in there with a face on her that’s enough to give you nightmares,’ Nancy laughed.
‘She could be England’s secret weapon: send her over to Hitler and scare the pants off him!’ Gloria answered, and the two of the squealed with laughter.
‘Oh, Glor, you are a tonic,’ Nancy said, wiping tears of laughter from her face with her handkerchief.
‘I needed a bit of cheering up.’ Gloria told her that as Giles’s leave had finished she was at a bit of a loose end and had come round to ask if Nancy wanted to go to Midnight Mass a bit later. Nancy suspected she was only going because she enjoyed singing the carols.
‘It’s lucky you caught me in … I should give Mrs Kerrigan Sid’s allotment money, and if it carries on I’ll have to give her my new ration books after Christmas, too,’ she said jokingly.
They chatted almost nonstop for another hour and then Gloria said she had to go.
A few minutes after Gloria left, Mrs Kerrigan, a tall, thin woman, limped with her sprained ankle into the parlour without knocking. She had a tea towel in her hand, which she kept folding and unfolding.
‘Is everything all right, Mrs Kerrigan?’ Nancy asked, retrieving her knitting from behind a cushion.
‘You didn’t say you were looking for a place of your own.’ Mrs Kerrigan looked most put out. ‘I thought you were settled here. We could be company for each other while Sid and Mr Kerrigan are away.’
Nancy had been living here for over three months and Sid’s mother had never invited her into the kitchen to listen to the wireless once. After Sid had gone away, the nights were so long and lonely as she was left on her own, while Mrs Kerrigan listened to Tommy Handley or a play, so Nancy took to nipping through the narrow alleyway to Empire Street to listen to her mam and dad’s wireless instead.
‘We’ve always wanted a place of our own, Mrs Kerrigan,’ Nancy said politely. ‘We can’t impose on you for ever.’ To be nagged to death, no fear.
‘Well, I think you should wait until Sid comes home. I do not think he would like the idea of you gallivanting off getting your own place without his say so.’
Without you being able to interfere, you mean. Nancy said nothing. It was not her place.
What more did this girl have to go through? Rita wondered. She had not had it easy over the years, and now, so soon after her father’s death, she had Tommy’s illness to contend with, too.
‘How could Mrs Hood let him get into this state?’ Danny said. ‘We should go round there and give her what for.’
‘Why didn’t she get a doctor for him? Surely she could see he was ill?’ Kitty asked, shaking her head. ‘This could not have come on him today.’
‘By the looks of him,’ said Rita, ‘I’d say she had no intentions of letting a doctor see poor Tommy. A doctor would report her for this!’ Rita was so angry she felt as if she would burst at the effort of staying calm. However, she couldn’t let them see how worried she was, too.
How could any woman and mother let this happen to a child? She really did not know.
Danny sat on the chair, watching Rita carefully wrap Tommy in the blanket.
‘I’m telling you, Kit,’ Danny was so angry he thumped the arm of the chair, ‘he is never going away again.’
‘You are not wrong there, Danny,’ Rita said determinedly. ‘If the worst should happen and we do get invaded by the Jerry, we will all go together.’ The child stirred and Kitty kissed his scorching cheek.
‘Why didn’t Mrs Hood send for me?’ Kitty’s voice was hoarse with fear. ‘I even gave her the number of the NAAFI. She could have telephoned me there.’
‘I’d have gone to fetch Tommy,’ Danny said. ‘I’d have carried him home on my back. It would have been no trouble.’ Danny’s words tore at Kitty’s heart. She gave her brother’s shoulder a squeeze.
‘It’s a good thing he got here when he did, Kit,’ Rita said sadly. ‘Danny, go and see if Pop’s ready yet now, quick!’
Danny jumped up from the couch. ‘Let me know if he wakes up.’
‘He’s not asleep,’ Rita said grimly, barely able to keep the horror from her voice. ‘He’s unconscious.’
Kitty, horrified, grabbed hold of Rita’s arm. ‘Tell me what it is, Rita!’
‘I think he’s got diphtheria, Kit,’ Rita said, ‘he’s in grave danger and we must get him to the hospital right away.’ If her suspicions were confirmed, Rita knew Tommy did not have much time. As well as being a highly contagious and notifiable disease, diptheria was one of the leading causes of childhood death.
Pop Feeny was on his way when Danny collided with him in the blacked-out fog.
Pop followed Danny at a run into the house and was horrified when he caught sight of the stricken child. He’d never seen a child look so ill. In no time he was leading Kitty, who was carrying the young lad, out into the street.
‘Let’s get this around him, Kit,’ Pop said briskly, tucking another blanket over both of them. Rita, sitting beside her, took Tommy’s feeble arm to check for a pulse, while Danny sat next to Pop.
‘I don’t know much about these things,’ he said grimly, ‘but I’d say our Rita’s right. He needs the hospital straight away.’ He could see there was much less of Tommy now than there had been when he left the street three months ago. If he ever got hold of those people who were supposed to be looking after Tommy, he’d throttle the life out of them. His face set in grim determination, he motioned for the horse to set off, careful to move quickly without jolting Tommy too much.
‘How did he get home?’ Pop asked, flicking the reins and concentrating hard on the road.
‘I dread to think, Pop,’ Kitty answered, holding Tommy’s still body to her chest as she listened anxiously to his rasping breath.
The flat-backed cart that usually lugged bales of American cotton and logs from as far away as Canada came to a halt outside the borough hospital carrying the most precious person in Kitty’s life. Jumping down from the cart onto the pavement, Pop went ahead, saying he would get a doctor, while Danny lifted his arms to take Tommy.
Kitty passed little Tommy into Danny’s strong, capable arms and followed at a run when his long strides quickly covered the distance.
‘Doctor! Can I have some help here, please?’ Rita was ahead of them all as she hurried through the doors, her words bouncing off the tall side windows as her feet hardly conferred with the highly polished terrazzo floor.
‘What is all this commotion?’ an imposing and capable-looking sister demanded, hurrying from a side room. Kitty’s troubled gaze took in the stiff navy-blue uniform, rigid white cuffs and collar, her scraped-back hair hidden under a starched cap and a scowl to stun at thirty paces. Kitty was right behind Pop.
‘It’s the lad, Nurse.’ Pop wasn’t intimidated.
‘Sister,’ the nurse corrected him and he gave a slight nod as she opened a side door and pointed into the adjoining room. Danny took Tommy in as she followed. Then she stopped as Kitty and Pop tried to follow.
‘Stay right there!’ Sister commanded before disappearing into the room and closing the door firmly behind her. In a couple of minutes Danny came out again. Kitty decided not to make a scene in front of Danny; she was sure it would not help Tommy if she was or was not in the room. Instead, she guided Danny to a long bench in the corridor and swallowed a desperate urge to cry when she caught sight of the desolation on his face. His need for reassurance was far greater. Danny wasn’t out of his teens yet and was still a lad himself. She had to be strong for both of them.
Kitty persuaded Rita and Pop to go home. They had done all they could for now and there was nothing for Kitty and Danny to do but wait. They sat for a long time. The ornate fingers crawling around the face of the huge round clock, the quiet tick-tick-tick were getting on Kitty’s nerves. People came and went while they waited impatiently for some news. However, nobody would tell her what was happening behind the closed door of the side ward.
‘If I don’t get some news soon I’m going in there,’ Kitty said. Please get better, Tommy. She dreaded the thought of losing him. If only Jack had been here now, instead of training for some stupid war that nobody wanted.
Kitty sighed deeply and stood up. She could not sit still any longer. Pacing the length of the long corridor she counted every step.
‘One … two … three …’ she said, turning, and then counted her way back. She had to do something, anything to keep from thinking the worst. Finally, she reached Danny, sitting on his hands, vacantly staring into nothing. He lifted a hand and began nibbling furiously on stubby nails, a sure sign that his patience was now wearing thin. Kitty could have wept.
‘Kitty, is Tommy going to be OK?’ he asked her when she eventually stopped pacing and took her seat beside him. ‘Is he, Kit?’ His face was the colour of cold, grey dough and Kitty did not have the heart to worry him any more.
‘He’s in the best place, Danny.’ She hoped the words would comfort him, but they didn’t seem to do so. Kitty’s desperation was obvious now as huge tears washed down her face. Apparently oblivious, she did not wipe them away.
Danny hugged her close. Each minu
te was like a lifetime, each hour an eternity, and still they waited, each lost in their own thoughts.
Kitty had stopped looking at the clock so she didn’t know what time it was when the ward sister finally came over to her and Danny. They both stood quickly, anxious for news. Danny’s face was ashen and Kitty pulled nervously at her handkerchief.
‘The doctor is coming to see you now,’ she said, her face a mask.
Moments later, a tall, dark-haired and handsome man came towards them. He was wearing a white coat and he held a folder in his hand.
‘Are you Thomas Callaghan’s mother?’ he asked Kitty.
‘No, Doctor, I’m his sister, Kitty, and this here is his brother, Danny. Oh please, Doctor, is Tommy going to be all right?’
There was something reassuring about the young man and Kitty thought he had a kind face; like someone who really cared about making people better.
‘My name is Dr Fitzgerald. I won’t soft-soap you, Kitty. Tommy is very, very ill. But he is young and strong. We’re doing everything we can to make him better.’
‘What’s wrong with him, Doctor?’ Danny asked.
‘Nurse Kennedy was correct. Tommy has contracted diptheria, which is very dangerous, but we are treating him. The next few hours will be critical. You should be very grateful to your friend for getting him here so promptly.’
Kitty asked, ‘Doctor, can we please wait here?’
The doctor looked behind him at the brusque ward sister. ‘Sister doesn’t normally let relatives stay out of normal visiting hours, I’m afraid.’ Kitty’s face dissolved into tears and Dr Fitzgerald took pity on her. ‘But I think we can make an exception in Thomas’s case.’
‘Oh, Doctor, thank you. We won’t get in the way, will we, Danny?’ Danny shook his head.
‘Very well. Stay in the waiting room and we’ll let you know as soon as we have any more news. He really is in the best place and I’m determined to do whatever I can for him.’