by Anna King
He waited for what seemed an eternity, then Vi took his hand and smiled.
‘I’ve nothing to lose, and everything to gain. So, yes, Chris, I’ll see your father, and no matter what the outcome, I want you to know I’ll be forever grateful to you for giving me some hope, however small. When can we go to the hospital?’
Taken aback by the eagerness in Vi’s voice, Chris thought frantically. He supposed he could take her now – after all, his father’s hospital was open twenty-four hours a day. Recovering his aplomb, he stood up. Maybe this was the best way. To get Vi to the hospital before she had a chance to change her mind.
‘How long will it take you to get packed?’
Vi’s eyes lit up with excitement.
‘About half an hour. After all, I won’t be needing my party frocks, will I?’
Heading for the door Chris looked over his shoulder.
‘While you’re packing, I’ll phone my father to let him know we’re on our way. It’ll give him a chance to get a room ready for you… Oh, don’t worry, Vi,’ he added kindly at the sudden look of apprehension that sprang to her eyes. ‘You won’t be put in with the other patients. The family has its own house adjoining the hospital and that’s where you’ll be staying. Now, get moving. I’ll phone my father and then tell the rest of the family what’s happening.’
After Chris had gone, Vi stared hard at the closed door. Don’t get your hopes up, Chris had warned her. But how could she not? She was realistic to know that no amount of surgery would ever make her beautiful again, but if it could make some improvement, some considerable improvement so that at least she could leave the house without having people stare at her, at least that would be something – wouldn’t it?
With new enthusiasm injected into her body, Vi raced across the room and began to pack only the bare essentials she would need. She had no idea how long she would be under Chris’s father’s care, or if indeed she would be coming back home the next day after being told there was nothing more he could do that the other doctors hadn’t already tried. But try as she might to keep her feelings under control, she couldn’t stop the raging hope that was surging through her mind.
With a lightness in her step, she snapped her suitcase shut and waited for Chris to return.
* * *
‘Gawd Almighty, well if that wasn’t a turn up fer the book.’
Aggie was sipping her nightly cocoa, the rest of the family gathered around her. Even Stanley, who had allowed himself to be wheeled into the room to be with the others rather than lie in his room alone, determined not to be pushed out of the family conference. Also he was feeling dreadful about the way he had treated Grace last night. What he had done was unforgivable, but God help him, he couldn’t seem to control his temper. When the rage swept over him, it was like he was on the outside looking in on a different person.
He was vaguely listening to Aggie rambling on about the afternoon’s events, saying she hoped Vi wasn’t expecting too much, or she would return home in a worse condition than when she’d left, and it was as he moved his head distractedly that he caught Nobby’s eye. The look reflected there was nothing short of murderous. So he knew what had happened, or guessed, because Stanley couldn’t see Grace telling tales to anyone, she wasn’t made that way.
Shifting his glance towards his wife, he saw her look up at Nobby, and the way she looked at Nobby was the way she used to look at him before he went off to war. His head fell forward. So he had been right all along about the two of them. All at once Stanley experienced a sense of hopelessness. He had known there was no future for him, and yet he had used moral blackmail to get Grace to marry him. A great weariness came over him, and with it a desire to be rid of this life. He wasn’t living, merely existing. A bout of coughing brought his frail body forward, and immediately Grace and Polly were at his side, their faces filled with concern, which only added to his guilt.
Within minutes he was back in his bed, alone with Grace, who was giving him his medicine, saying worriedly, ‘You should have stayed in bed, Stan. You know what the doctor said yesterday.’
Yes, he knew what the doctor had said yesterday. Plenty of rest and no physical exertion. Fat chance of the latter, he thought wearily, not after last night’s fiasco. What Grace didn’t know was that he had managed to get out of bed and listen at the door to what the doctor was telling her. He could still recall the words clearly, as if they had been burnt into his brain.
‘He should be in the hospital, Mrs Slater, he’s not doing as well as I first hoped. I’m afraid the pneumonia has left his chest very weak, and his heart is in a bad way too. The human body can only take so much, you know. And his mental state doesn’t help matters either.’
Then Grace’s voice, anxious and afraid.
‘But he will pull through, won’t he, Doctor? I mean… He’s not going to die, is he?’
There had been a short pause before the doctor had answered, and Stanley had felt his heart hammering against his ribs, his mouth dry with fear at what the doctor’s answer would be.
Then it had come.
In a deep, sorrowful tone the doctor had said kindly, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Slater, but there’s nothing anyone can do for your husband now except to make him as comfortable as possible. Maybe take him out in his wheelchair for a change of scenery. He may last another few weeks, or he could go tomorrow. There’s just no way of telling. I’m very sorry.’
Stanley had crept back to bed, trembling with fear at what he had overheard. Then last night, in a fit of desperation and frustration, he had made one last attempt at making Grace his wife properly, and as usual he had failed. Then in a fit of fear and temper he had kicked her out of the bed.
‘Would you like me to stay with you a while, Stan? I can always catch up on the gossip about Vi’s hasty departure later. In fact…’ she laughed, ‘I expect there’ll be talk of nothing else over the next few weeks.’
Tiredly Stanley shook his head, thinking that Grace was one in a million. After the way he had treated her last night, and other nights, he had no right to expect any sympathy or nursing from her. Yet here she was, willing to sit with him, not wanting him to be on his own to brood. A deep sense of shame swept over him. She deserved better than him. Furthermore, he owed her more than words could say. She didn’t have to take him in and look after him, she didn’t have to marry him, but she had, because that was the sort of person she was. Never would she hurt anyone’s feelings, even if it meant her own suffered.
‘No, I’ll be all right, love. To tell the truth, I feel a bit tired. You go back to the family gathering. You can tell me all about it in the morning.’
When Grace had left, Stanley lay for a long time staring into the darkness. His life, as he had known it, was over, and this new one would be too, very soon. Perhaps it was the medication that Grace had just given him, or maybe he was just tired of it all. Whatever the reason, he reflected, the idea of dying no longer frightened him.
The bedside clock showed it to be ten o’clock, and Stan heaved himself up in the bed and looked at the rows of pills arranged neatly on the bedside cabinet. He heard the women calling out their goodnights, and calmly opened first one bottle, then another. Throwing as many pills as he could swallow in one go into his mouth, he managed to empty both bottles and return them to their rightful place before Grace entered the room.
‘Oh, I didn’t expect you to still be awake, Stan,’ Grace said, a note of fear entering her voice.
‘I was just dozing off, love,’ Stan answered, tears springing to the back of his eyes at the obvious fear Grace was endeavouring to hide. Closing his eyes, he pretended to sleep. He felt Grace gingerly slipping into bed beside him, her slim figure tense as if expecting another assault on her body. After a few minutes had passed he felt her relax, then she whispered, ‘Night, love. See you tomorrow,’ before her soft breathing told him she had fallen asleep.
His own eyes heavy, Stan turned to look at his wife, his mind travelling back down the years to a
time before the war. They had been so much in love, so happy together, and then the war had started and nothing was ever the same again.
He could feel himself drifting off, and fought the effects of the drugs for as long as he could, his mind remembering every happy, carefree moment he had shared with the woman by his side. Now it was all over. And by this last act of his, maybe it would prove to Grace how much he had truly loved her, and how sorry he was for the way he had made her life a misery, when all she had shown him was kindness.
His eyelids were growing heavier, and he knew the end was near. With a last effort, and remembering Grace’s final words to him, he whispered into the darkness, ‘There isn’t going to be any more tomorrows for me, darling, but there will be for you. I loved you, Grace, I still do. That’s why I’m setting you free. Goodbye my darlin’, and thanks for all the good times we shared.’
Then his eyes closed for the last time.
* * *
When Grace awoke in the morning, refreshed after the first good night’s sleep she’d had in months, she quietly slipped out of bed and into the kitchen.
‘Morning, love. You look bright today. Had a good sleep, did yer?’
Aggie was already at the stove preparing the breakfast, the kettle boiling furiously away on top of the hob.
Grace ran her fingers through her unruly hair, gave a small yawn, then smiled.
‘Yes, I did, actually. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.’
When the breakfast was ready, Grace, who had to be at the shop by eight, asked Polly, ‘Would you mind taking Stan’s breakfast into him, Poll? I’m running a bit late, but I’ll pop in to see him before I leave.’
‘Yes, of course I will, Grace. I’ve got to practise my nursing skills, haven’t I?’ She grinned.
Placing a lightly poached egg on a slice of toast together with a mug of tea, Polly left the room.
It was some fifteen minutes later as Grace was ready to leave that she suddenly wondered what was taking Polly so long. She hoped Stanley wasn’t keeping Polly talking, otherwise Poll would be late for work.
As she opened the door to the bedroom, Grace looked towards the bed, her words dying in her throat at the sight that met her eyes. For there was Polly, lying with her head on Stanley’s chest, weeping silently, the untouched breakfast tray lying by the side of the bed. Grace’s stomach rose in alarm, her heart beginning to race frantically.
Touching Polly’s heaving shoulders lightly, she said softly, ‘Polly!’ And just that one word was all Grace could manage as the awful truth sank in.
Her eyes reddened and swollen with grief, Polly looked up at her sister and sobbed, ‘He’s gone, Grace. Stanley’s gone.’ Then her head dropped back on to Stanley’s still chest.
Grace stood motionless, watching the poignant scene, a voice inside her shouting it was all wrong. It should be her sobbing over Stanley, and Polly trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around.
As if in a daze, Grace walked slowly back to the kitchen where Aggie was enjoying her second mug of tea. Without any preamble she said dully, ‘Stanley’s dead, Nan.’ Then she sank down on to a chair, staring into space, her mind a blank. She never noticed Aggie leave the room, nor did she remember the doctor arriving. Everything seemed to be happening around her, without actually touching her in any way. It was when Danny appeared and put his arms around her that Grace finally came out of her self-induced trance. Her lips trembling, she buried her face against her uncle’s chest and let the tears fall.
* * *
Stanley was buried four days later on a sunny August day beside the rose bush Grace and the family had planted in memory of Sam and Hetty. Grace watched silently as the coffin was lowered into the ground, the death of her husband weighing heavily on her conscience. How unfair it was that he should have suffered so much in his short life. Maybe if she had been more affectionate towards him, pretended that she still loved him, then he wouldn’t have been driven to take his own life. She would never know the true reason behind Stanley’s decision to commit suicide, but some part of her felt she was in some way to blame. No matter what anyone else told her, even the doctor who had reminded her that Stanley would have died soon anyway, it did nothing to alleviate her guilt. She would always think that Stanley’s death was somehow partly her fault. And as the small party of mourners walked away from the cemetery, Grace knew the burden of Stanley’s suicide would remain heavily on her conscience for the rest of her life.
Chapter Thirty
It had been five months since Stanley’s death, and Grace had never felt so lonely in her entire life. There was nobody in the house except herself and Polly. As she thought of her youngest sister, Grace’s head gave an involuntary jerk. Since the funeral, Polly had been very short with her. The friendship they had once shared was gone, and for the life of her Grace couldn’t understand what she had done to turn Polly against her.
Finding the subject too painful to dwell on, Grace switched her thoughts to Vi, who was still staying at Chris’s house in Essex, although she had been home for a few flying visits, each visit showing a marked improvement in her face. And not only in her physiognomy but in herself as well. For with each new operation, painful though they were, Vi’s confidence slowly returned. She would have to undergo more surgery until Dr Green, Chris’s father, decided there was no more he could do. Grace had listened in fascinated horror as Vi regaled her with tales of skin grafting, and chemical peeling, and also of the marvellous work Dr Green did for his burns patients. By all accounts, Chris’s father was a remarkable man indeed, and Vi was deeply appreciative of all he had done for her.
Grace had also noticed a new warmth between Vi and Chris whenever they visited. Grace wasn’t sure if the new intimacy was due to Vi’s undying gratitude to Chris for turning up at a point in her life when she had been in such a desperate state or whether she was falling in love. Grace fervently hoped it was the latter. If not, then Vi was a fool. She would never find anyone who would love her as Chris did, but like everything in life only time would tell.
Sighing, Grace looked around the empty sitting room, her heart heavy. She had never known a time when the house had been so empty, so quiet. Aggie had gone for a short walk around the shops, promising she wouldn’t be too long, Patrick was playing at a friend’s house, and Uncle Danny was working in the shop. If she weren’t expecting Vi and Chris to arrive at any minute, that’s where Grace would have been too. At least in the shop she was never short of company.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling, imagining Polly sitting in the bedroom they had once shared; and was tempted to go up and talk to her. Today would be the last chance Grace would have to mend the breach that had sprung up between them, for Polly was all packed and ready to leave home this afternoon to enter the nursing training college at St Bartholomew’s Hospital. She was waiting for Vi and Chris to show up; they had promised to come and drive her to the hospital and see her safely installed in her new quarters. And of course Polly would want to say a final farewell to her nan when she got back from the shops.
As regards Nobby…! The handsome face flashed in front of her eyes making Grace jump. No! She couldn’t think about Nobby. That was too painful. She had to put him out of her mind. Trying to keep herself busy, Grace half-heartedly flicked a feather duster around the furniture, her ears listening out for the sound of Chris’s motor car.
When Grace could no longer find any more to do, she took a deep breath and went upstairs. She knocked twice on Polly’s bedroom door and, receiving no answer, she pushed open the door.
‘You’re supposed to wait until you’re invited into someone’s room, and I don’t remember inviting you.’
Grace, gulping loudly, stayed by the door, her gaze taking in every detail of the sister she had once been so close to. Polly’s red hair was arranged neatly into a French plait, and as Grace looked closer she suddenly realised that the freckles, which had been the bane of Polly’s life, along with the colour of her hair, we
re fading into pale brown spots, instead of the large dark mass that had once covered her face entirely. Why hadn’t she noticed the change before? Grace wondered idly. But then, the two sisters hadn’t spent much time in each other’s company recently.
Clearing her throat, Grace was about to make some trite comment to break the hostile silence. Instead she found herself blurting out, ‘For God’s sake, Poll. What have I done wrong? We used to be so close, the best of friends, ever since we were children, now we’re like strangers. What’s happened to change your feelings towards me? Please, Poll, I have to know, especially now you’re leaving.’
When no answer was forthcoming, Grace’s voice grew almost in panic.
‘Now look, Poll, either you tell me why you’ve changed your feelings towards me, or I’m not letting you out of the house, at least not without a fight. I mean it, Poll. You must tell me. It’s killing me not knowing what I’ve—’
Polly spun round, her face hard, her eyes as cold as ice.
‘Like you killed Stan, Grace?’
The words were spat at her so venomously that Grace staggered back in shock.
‘Oh, yes, you can play the surprised innocent, but we both know you drove him to it. Flaunting Nobby under his nose every chance you got. Standing at the foot of the bed when you deigned to talk to him, instead of sitting by his side and comforting him… Like I did…!’
Polly’s voice broke, and as the red-haired head bowed in sorrow, Grace suddenly knew the reason behind Polly’s animosity. Polly had been in love with Stan. Oh, dear God! How could she have been so blind? Looking back over the years she could see clearly now that what had started as a crush on her big sister’s boyfriend had turned into true love. And she’d never noticed, never had the slightest suspicion.
Now Polly’s voice came at her again, high with pain and anger.