by Anna Jacobs
‘How old is he?’
‘Five.’
‘It’d be better if you found someone to care for him for a day or two.’
Her mind went blank, then she said, ‘All right. I’ll do that.’
‘Let me give you the details. Darren is in Birmingham and . . .’
When she put the phone down, Katie didn’t let herself weep or weaken. What to do? Mum couldn’t get here from Cornwall in time nor could the other military wives she was friendly with leave their children.
But her birth mother and father were here. Dare she ask them for help? Of course she did. She dare do anything for Darren. She picked up the phone again.
But there was no answer to Brody’s phone. She left a message on his voicemail, outlining the situation, then rang her birth mother.
Miranda sounded sleepy, but her voice lost the blurred, sleepy tone when she heard what had happened. ‘Of course I’ll come and look after Ned.’
‘Brody might want to come too. He does know Ned better than you do, but I’d really prefer you both to be there. I know you’re not on the best of terms, but do you think—’
‘I don’t think either of us would let that stop us from helping you, Katie. I’ll be there in half an hour at most.’
‘Thank you.’
She went to wake Ned up and explain what was happening.
He asked it again. ‘Is Daddy going to die?’
‘No! But he might lose his leg. It got badly damaged when he was shot.’
He stared at her in horror then looked down at his own feet. ‘They might cut his leg off? Can they do that?’
‘They put him to sleep first so that it doesn’t hurt and afterwards they make artificial legs so that people can still walk.’
He clung to her suddenly. ‘I don’t want Daddy to lose his leg.’
‘No. I don’t, either. But the doctors are doing their best to save it. Only I need to be there too.’
‘I want to come with you.’
‘The army doesn’t let children into hospitals when people are so . . . sick.’
He was too used to ultimatums that couldn’t be changed to argue any more. Children like him learned very young that the army wouldn’t budge from certain rules. ‘Oh.’
‘Now, you’ll be good for Miranda and Brody, won’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
She forced herself to pull away from him, but took him into her bedroom to ‘help’ as she began packing, flinging clothes into a bag and scrabbling together her toiletries. Then they went downstairs and she gave Ned a biscuit and a drink before scribbling down instructions for looking after him. As an afterthought, she wrote a brief note authorizing Miranda Fox and Brody Lanigan to take care of her son while she was with her injured husband.
By that time headlights had swept up to the house and there was the sound of a car door.
She let Miranda in, allowing her mother to hug her tightly for a moment, snatching at a few seconds of comfort. Then she sniffed away the tears that were threatening and grabbed her jacket. She had no time to weep.
‘I’ll phone as soon as I know anything. You have my mobile number.’
‘Yes. Don’t worry. If I can look after a ninety-four-year-old autocrat, I can cope with a five-year-old.’ She smiled at the solemn-faced child. ‘Ned and I will get on just fine, won’t we?’
He looked at her thoughtfully then smiled. ‘Yes.’
Katie was comforted by that smile.
Miranda and Ned went to the door and waved goodbye to his mother. He clung to her hand and when they went back inside, she knelt to give him a hug, feeling him hug her back convulsively.
‘I know it’s the middle of the night, but I think I’d like a drink of milk or hot chocolate, or whatever your mother has in her cupboard. Would you like something to drink?’
He nodded, brightening slightly. ‘I don’t have to go back to bed yet?’
‘Not yet. Come and show me where everything is.’
There was drinking chocolate, so she made them both a mug and sat with him at the table.
‘Are you an auntie?’ he asked.
‘Sort of,’ was all she could think of to say.
‘I’ve had lots of aunties. When we were living at the base, I called all Mum’s friends “auntie”. But then we came here and I didn’t see them much, and there’s no one to play with. Mum lived in this house when she was a little girl, you know.’
He sipped some more and she followed suit.
‘Where do you live, Auntie Nanda?’
She didn’t correct his pronunciation of her name, just tried to explain about coming from Australia and borrowing the cottage till she could find a house of her own. She saw his eyes beginning to look glazed. ‘I think it’s time we went to bed, don’t you? I’m very tired.’
He nodded.
They walked up the stairs and he showed her his bedroom, his favourite toys and his photo of Daddy. Then he lay back against the pillows and fell straight to sleep.
She envied him that. She felt far too uptight to sleep yet.
After waiting for a moment or two to make sure he really was asleep, she tiptoed out of the room. On the landing she hesitated, wondering where to sleep. It didn’t seem right to use the master bedroom, so she made up the narrow bed in the third bedroom, a room only about two metres square with no other furniture, just several huge cardboard boxes. She hadn’t brought any nightclothes with her and after some hesitation, went to search through Katie’s clothes.
The nightwear was beautiful, silky and lace-trimmed in various colours. It was the sort of nightwear a woman would use to make herself beautiful for the man she loved. Miranda had never owned clothes like that and it was probably too late for her – except the man on the plane had seemed attracted and that had cheered her up a bit. She was going to buy some prettier lingerie anyway.
She stroked the soft fabrics and in the end chose a navy blue nightgown with a deep V-neck and an edging of matching navy lace. As she slipped it over her head, she marvelled at the feel of it. She’d buy another nightie for Katie to make up for borrowing this one.
Just at that moment the doorbell rang. Terrified that whoever it was would wake Ned, she flung on the dressing gown that went with the nightgown and ran down the stairs. There was a peephole and she used it before opening the door, which gave her a few seconds warning that it was Brody.
It wasn’t nearly long enough.
When the phone rang in the middle of the night, Regina came awake instantly and snatched it up. ‘Hallo?’
‘Ms Fox? I’m calling from the hospital. Your daughter’s condition has worsened. I’m afraid she’s likely to lose the baby. You may like to be here with her.’
‘Have you called Tim, the father of the baby?’
‘You’re listed as the contact person. It’s up to you whether you tell anyone else.’
She replaced the handset and stared at it, tempted to go to the hospital on her own. No, that’d be unfair to Tim. She dialled his number and arranged to pick him up on the way there.
They got there to find the nursing station unattended and Nikki’s room empty, which sent him into a panic. ‘Calm down, Tim! We’ll go and find someone to ask.’
He clutched her arm.
‘Calm down,’ she repeated more gently.
This time a nurse was just arriving back at the station.
‘I’m Ms Fox. Someone called about my daughter.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, but she’s lost the baby. They’re checking things out at the moment. She’ll be down from theatre in half an hour or so.’
So then there was more waiting, and the canteen wasn’t open, only a machine that dispensed paper cups of what purported to be coffee and tasted more like dirty washing-up water. Regina set down her cup after one taste.
Tim sat beside her in the one lighted area of the big dark room, cradling his cup in his hands.
When she looked more closely she could see
tears tracking down his cheeks. She didn’t know how to comfort him, so settled for patting his arm.
He kept looking at his watch and when half an hour had passed, stood up. ‘We should go back now.’
So they trudged along corridors that were lit only in a subdued way. It felt strange without other people around.
At the ward, the nurse looked up. ‘She came back five minutes ago. She’s very drowsy, probably won’t make much sense.’
‘She’s all right?’ Tim asked.
‘Yes. She’s fine. At her age, she’ll soon get over it. Do you want to go and sit with her?’
He had turned towards Nikki’s room before she even finished speaking.
‘They’re both very young for this,’ the nurse said in a disapproving tone.
‘Tell me about it. But I’m only the mother. What do I know?’
The nurse gave her a grudging smile. ‘My daughter’s fourteen. I’m already worrying.’
Regina walked slowly along to Nikki’s room and stood in the doorway. Even a stranger would have seen how much Tim loved her daughter. Every line of his body seemed to show it. She doubted she’d ever felt that strongly about anyone in her whole life. Nikki came nearest, but somehow Regina had never been able to give herself fully to any relationship. She envied Tim that.
She moved forward just as Nikki opened her eyes and stared around as if having difficulty focusing. But it was Regina she looked at. ‘Oh, Mum!’ She began to cry.
Regina went to the other side of the bed from Tim and bent to hug her daughter. ‘I’m sorry, darling.’
‘It’s my fault. I stopped wanting him and he died.’
‘No, it’s not your fault. These things happen and they’re no one’s fault.’
‘We’ll have other children,’ Tim said, bending forward to kiss Nikki.
She flinched away from him. ‘No. No, we won’t. I’m never getting pregnant again, never!’
He turned to Regina for guidance and she shook her head slightly to tell him to back off.
When they looked down again, Nikki had dozed off.
‘Not the time to talk about other children,’ she said quietly to Tim.
He began to sob, trying to muffle the sound, and she had to get up and give him a hug. He was going to be a lot more hurt before this was finished, she was sure.
To her surprise, she found herself feeling sad that she was not to have a grandchild. She definitely hadn’t expected that.
Nineteen
Miranda opened the door and stepped back. Brody walked in without a word. As he shut the door behind him, chill air swirled around them for a moment and she pulled the negligée more tightly around herself.
They stood in the hall staring at one another. The silence seemed so fragile she broke it quickly and neatly before he could fragment the moment with hurtful words. ‘You . . . um, got Katie’s message?’
‘Yes. What exactly happened?’
‘Come into the kitchen. We might wake Ned if we talk here and he’s only just got off to sleep.’
He followed her, not taking his jacket off, and leant against the sink, his face expressionless until she got to the part about Darren’s leg. ‘He may lose it.’
Brody closed his eyes for a moment, looking distressed. ‘That’s a bad one.’
‘Yes.’
After a short silence, he said in a calm, controlled voice, ‘Well, you can go home now. I’ll take over here.’
She felt her mouth fall open in shock and closed it quickly. It took her a few moments to pull herself together and state her position. ‘I’m staying.’
‘There’s no need. Ned knows me.’
‘He’s starting to know me, too. And I’m not leaving. Katie wants us both here, has made us jointly responsible for him.’
‘I don’t want you here,’ he said loudly and slowly.
‘Well, I’m staying. Get over it.’
There was a cry from upstairs and she was out of the kitchen before Brody, running up the stairs. By the landing light she could see Ned sitting up in bed looking terrified.
‘Nanda!’ he cried and began to sob.
She moved forward to one side of the bed, Brody to the other, and felt vindicated when Ned held out his arms to her.
‘Nanda, I’m scared.’
‘What about?’
‘Daddy. I don’t want them to cut off his leg.’ He burrowed into her, sobbing.
She stroked his hair. ‘The doctors will try to save it first. I think it’ll help him to have your Mummy there. She can talk to him, cheer him up.’
‘I want her with me.’
‘I know, and she will come back, but until then you’ve got me.’ She looked across the bed and added, ‘And Brody. He came to help, so you’ve got two of us.’
‘Don’t leave me, Nanda.’
‘I won’t. We’ll all three stay here together till your Mummy comes back.’
‘She’ll bring Daddy. We’ll all look after him.’
Miranda closed her eyes briefly, praying to whatever gods might be watching that this soldier would come through his ordeal safely. So many had died tragically young. She shushed Ned gently and rocked him a little, murmuring endearments.
‘I think he’s asleep,’ Brody whispered and left the room.
She thought about staying with the child then decided to go down and make sure Brody understood that she wasn’t leaving till Katie got back. This, at least, she could do for her daughter. She’d been denied so much.
Katie was delivered to the hospital with the super-efficiency the army could produce on occasion. She was taken along empty, dimly lit corridors to the private room where Darren was lying.
He was unconscious but restless.
‘You might like to sit beside him for a while,’ the nurse said.
She replied very firmly. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not leaving his side again till he’s a lot better than this.’
‘It can help to have you here,’ he admitted. ‘We’re doing everything possible, I promise you.’
No need for anyone to tell Katie that Darren was feverish. There was hectic colour in his cheeks and his brow was hot. She sat down beside the bed and took his hand, telling him she was there, talking to him quietly. Somehow her words seemed to penetrate and he became more peaceful, clutching her hand tightly as if he knew she was there, as if he needed her as desperately as she needed to be with him.
Some time later a voice said, ‘Shall I bring you a cup of tea, Mrs Parrish?’
She turned, not having heard the nurse come back. ‘Yes, please. That’d be wonderful. Goodness, it’s starting to get light.’
She used the small en suite bathroom and went to sit beside her husband again. She’d read that it sometimes helped to talk to unconscious people, so began telling him about the thing that was on her mind: her birth parents, how she’d not been sure what to do, how tentative she’d been about meeting them. And how it was thanks to them that she had been able to get here so quickly.
She didn’t rush her story, speaking slowly, stopping to ponder what had happened from time to time. It was a while before she realized that it was fully light, Darren’s eyes were open and he was staring at her.
‘It’s not a dream,’ he said. ‘You are here.’ Then he looked down at his leg which had a shelter over it. ‘Have they amputated it?’
‘No. There’s a chance of saving it still. But whatever happens, I love you, Darren.’
‘I love you, too.’ He smiled drowsily. ‘I’ll get better now. I know I will. Don’t let them cut it off.’
When Sebastian went home, he found the house empty and no signs of preparations for dinner. He was almost sure they weren’t going out tonight but went to check the engagements diary, just in case something important had slipped his mind.
He found it in his home office, its pages torn out and scattered over his desk. Taped to the back of his chair was an envelope, addressed to him. Bewildered, not used to anything but perfect order, he stood
there for a moment with the envelope in his hand. Then he put down his briefcase and looked for the letter opener. It was gone, but when he looked up he saw it sticking in his favourite painting, right in the heart of the hunting dog that had brought down a rabbit. Dorothy had always disliked that painting, but surely she hadn’t done this?
Even more bewildered, he used the paperknife to open the envelope.
You’ve beaten me for the very last time, Sebastian. I’ve consulted a lawyer, seen a doctor to show him my latest bruises and I’m bringing assault charges against you.
After that we can discuss our divorce.
Dorothy
The anger he found so hard to control surged up and he seemed to be seeing things through a mist. When it cleared he found he’d swept everything off his desk and smashed a valuable figurine against the wall. Panting, he sank into a chair, unable to believe this was happening.
It was a few moments before he realized the phone was ringing. He picked it up just as the voicemail kicked in and it was a moment before the recorded message faded and he could speak to the person at the other end.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that you, Dad?’
‘Yes. John, it’s good to hear from you, son. I’m afraid your mother isn’t—’
‘Is it true?’
‘What?’
‘That you’ve been beating Mother for years.’
Sebastian swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. He hadn’t been beating her. Maybe he’d been a bit rough at times. It was his temper. He’d have to learn to control it better.
‘Well? Have you?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘She’s emailed me a photo of herself, with bruising and fingermarks. She says you did it, not for the first time, and she’s left you for good.’
‘It’s a temporary thing. We’re going to sort it out.’
‘Gerry and I thought you had sorted it out already. You told us years ago when we asked you that you were getting counselling. Clearly you didn’t, so I’m glad Mum’s come to her senses. You’re a prize shit and, as far as I’m concerned, I never want to see you again.’
‘I’ve been doing everything for you.’
John made a scornful noise. ‘Rubbish. And as for stealing Auntie Minnie’s money, forget about it. If ever anyone earned their inheritance, she did.’