For Better, For Worse

by June Francis

  Milly’s face brightened. ‘That would be smashing.’

  Grace said thoughtfully, ‘Can he walk at all?’

  Milly shook her head. ‘He has a splint the length of the leg as he needs to keep the knee straight, so he hops, and he can’t use crutches because of his wrists being fractured. What had you in mind?’

  ‘I had thought he could walk the dog with me and spend some time at Dad’s to give you a break. If he and Ben accept the idea, but if the lad can’t use crutches…’ Grace sighed and then she remembered something. ‘We still have an old bath chair in the back bedroom. It’s the sort where someone can sit up but have their legs straight out in front of them. It was my mother’s. Dad wanted to get rid of it, but I kept my dolls and teddy in it and used to wheel them about the room. I could take him out in that, if he was willing.’

  ‘I’ll suggest it to Jimmy, and he can mention it to Ben and see what answer he comes back with,’ said Milly.

  On that note they parted, but a couple of evenings later, Fergie began to bark and then there came a knock on the front door. Grace opened it to find the truck driver standing there, with a boy leaning on him, whom she presumed was his son. He had flaxen hair that flopped onto his forehead and grey eyes that looked bruised beneath, while his nose was scratched and out of shape.

  ‘You have been in the wars.’

  Ben replied, ‘Jimmy told me of your kind offer, so we decided to give you a visit. I hope now isn’t inconvenient.’

  Grace opened the door wider and, hoping her father had put Fergie in the backyard, she said, ‘Do come in. I was hoping you would call, as I’ve cleaned the old bath chair. Straight up the lobby and second door on the right.’ She tried not to stare too intently at Simon as Ben placed a hand on his son’s rear and carefully assisted him up and over the threshold. The boy steadied himself, resting a hand on the wall before hopping along.

  Ben followed him, ready to help his son if he should lose his balance. Grace had left the kitchen door open, so it did not take as long as she had thought before father and son were settled in chairs and she had placed a pouffe for Simon to prop up his injured leg.

  Norman, gazed at the boy and said, ‘So how did you come by that, lad?’

  ‘I fell out of a tree,’ replied Simon.

  ‘You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck,’ said Norman. ‘But boys will be boys.’

  ‘That’s what my wife said when he broke a vase kicking a ball in the house. He was only a kid then,’ muttered Ben.

  Simon remained silent, but Grace noticed him swallowing as if he had a lump in his throat, caused no doubt by the reference to his mother. She could understand how he felt and wanted to help him even more.

  ‘Would you like a drink of lemonade, Simon?’ she asked gently.

  He said shyly, ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘What about you, Mr Evans? Would you like a glass or would you prefer a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’d prefer tea, if it’s not too much trouble,’ Ben replied.

  ‘No trouble at all. Dad and I were about to have one.’

  She took a bottle of R. White’s lemonade out of a bucket of water in the back kitchen, where it had been keeping cool and poured out a glass for Simon before removing the kettle from the hob and warming the brown pottery teapot.

  Once Grace had drunk her tea with her guests she wheeled in the cushioned bath chair which she had made up with fresh linen. She watched Simon and Ben’s faces and guessed what they were thinking. Hurriedly she said, ‘It always reminds me of the shape of a steery. You do know what I’m talking about, Simon?’

  He shook his head, but his father said, ‘I do. You’re talking about a steering cart – made from old pram wheels, some planks of wood and a bit of rope.’

  She smiled. ‘I always wanted to have a go of one but the boys in the street wouldn’t let me, said that a girl could never control it.’

  ‘They were exciting, but dangerous, more so now there’s more traffic about,’ said Ben.

  Grace’s father nodded. ‘The only risk with this wheeled vehicle,’ he said, ‘is getting a wheel stuck in a tramline, but it only happened once when I pushed my wife out in it. Ideal, though, for getting someone having difficulty walking out in the fresh air.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Ben. ‘One only needs to avoid tramlines.’

  Grace smiled and glanced at Simon. ‘How do you feel about it?’

  He looked doubtful. ‘I like the idea of getting out and about, but not being looked upon as an invalid.’

  ‘But it’s only temporary,’ said Norman, leaning forward and removing his favourite clay pipe from between his lips. ‘And as you’ve just said, you want to get out in the fresh air.’

  ‘And you could have Fergie with you in the chair until we reach the park,’ said Grace, and without another word she went out into the backyard and brought in the black, white and tan Jack Russell. A growl rumbled in the dog’s throat, but he calmed down when Grace hushed him and took him over to Simon who held out a plaster-cast wrist and bare hand for the dog to sniff. ‘His bark is worse than his bite,’ she said. ‘Although, he has been known to nip the postman’s ankle if he doesn’t make it to his bike quick enough.’

  ‘I wanted a dog after Mam died,’ said Simon. ‘But Dad didn’t think it was fair to a dog to leave it alone in the house all day during the week.’

  ‘I don’t work every day, all day,’ Grace said. ‘So, no worries there.’ She smiled at him. ‘I take it you like animals?’

  Simon nodded, holding a hand down to Fergie as he sniffed at the foot resting on the pouffe. The dog hesitated only briefly before climbing up to the boy’s lap and making himself comfortable.

  Ben eyed the boy and dog before looking at Grace. ‘I think this means we gratefully accept your offer.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Simon.

  Before the visitors left, it was decided that Ben would drop Simon off at the house on the days that Grace was not working, bar Sundays, starting in a couple of days’ time. Simon would go to Milly’s the rest of the time, and that way, Milly could have a bit of a break before her approaching confinement. After Grace had seen them out, she returned to the kitchen to find her father placing the guard in front of the fireplace.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘He seems a decent bloke and the lad’s not going to be getting into mischief in his condition. Besides, looking after him will help take your mind off Dougie.’

  ‘I’d like to help, and Simon seems a very nice boy, it’s nice to be around children, they do make me laugh. Strangely enough, Dougie and I never talked about having children,’ she said out of the blue, surprising herself.

  ‘I’d have wanted to visit you in Australia if you’d have children. Getting to know my grandchildren was something I often thought about.’

  She was silenced for a moment and then said in a husky voice, ‘You never mentioned wanting grandchildren.’

  ‘Most likely because of Dougie being your cousin and it being on the cards your emigrating, so it was unlikely I’d ever get to see any grandchildren. Australia might not let me in and, also, I couldn’t imagine Dougie playing with children, just trying to keep them in line. You and he would have more arguments over the children than anything else.’

  ‘Oh Dad!’ she said gently, going over to where he sat in an armchair and kissing him. She wondered when she next wrote to Dougie, whether she should mention Ben and Simon’s visit, and tell him how much she had enjoyed the boy’s visit; ask whether he had given any thought to how many children he would like, or maybe she should wait until he got in touch with her first.

  ‘I’ve never had much to do with children,’ she added.

  Not long after that evening, she received a postcard from Dougie with a photograph of Las Palmas on one side. He had not written much, except to say the passage had been smooth and Las Palmas was lovely. He was keeping fit by playing deck games with some friends he had made. He had not answered her question abo
ut children, only telling her not to have anything more to do with the boy and his father. She then noticed he’d signed it with, ‘Much love, Dougie.’ She pulled a face, thinking she no longer had to do what he asked with there being thousands of miles between them. She then took out the world map and unfolded it and placed it on the table. There was a lot of pink on the map, which indicated places that were part of the British Empire. Grace studied it hard and eventually found Las Palmas – it was in Gran Canaria, part of a group of Spanish islands situated in the Atlantic Ocean. Grace thought that perhaps Simon might be interested in geography, so later on tomorrow after they’d had some fresh air, she decided to show him the map and explain how she was following the voyage of a ship to Australia.

  Chapter 3

  Grace was about to take a sip of her first cup of tea of the day when Fergie barked and then she heard the letterbox go. She wasted no time hurrying to see what the postman had delivered, doubting it would be a letter from Dougie. Life undoubtedly felt more relaxed with Dougie not around, but she knew her aunt missed him, and had agreed with her that life lacked something in his absence. As she got to the door, she saw it was not the postman, but Simon and his father. They were a bit earlier than she had expected them.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said.

  ‘I think it’s going to be another scorcher,’ said Ben, helping Simon up the step.

  ‘Well, the last thing we want is the weather to break with the celebrations going on for the King and Queen’s visit,’ she said. ‘Will you and Simon be attending any of the festivities?’

  ‘The opening ceremony will be too much for Simon,’ Ben said. ‘But I have thought of taking him to the pageant being performed at Exchange Flags as he’ll be able to sit down.’

  ‘I’m going to see it,’ said Grace. ‘I’ve already bought my ticket.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that today.’

  She found herself wondering what evening he had thought of going and whether to mention when she was attending, but decided Ben might think she was wanting his company, what with Dougie away. It wasn’t as if she needed company but it would be interesting to discuss with them what they had thought of the performances. She invited them inside and led the way into the parlour, where Dougie’s postcard was on the sideboard in clear view. She pushed the invalid chair out of the window alcove into the centre of the room. Ben thanked her, before saying he would carry the invalid chair outside for her, while Simon settled himself in a chair with Fergie on his lap.

  She nodded and followed him, fanning herself with the postcard.

  ‘From your boyfriend, is it?’ Ben asked, indicating the postcard with his head.

  ‘Obviously, Jimmy told you about Dougie,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Said he’d gone to Australia. Quite a distance!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Grace. ‘This is from Las Palmas.’ She waved the postcard about. ‘Have you ever done any travelling?’

  He stroked his jaw. ‘Outside of Britain, you mean?’

  She smiled. ‘I think you’d be too young for the trenches, though, or for being in the Navy, like Dad.’

  ‘I had a brother who fought – he was six years older than me. I was born in 1904,’ he replied. ‘My brother was declared missing, presumed dead. The thing is that he shouldn’t have been over in France. He had nervous asthma, but a woman posted an envelope through our letterbox addressed to him. I picked it up and gave it to him, not realising it had a white feather inside, so what did he go and do, but go off to fight somehow or other.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t know then that Mrs Pankhurst was encouraging her supporters to give young men white feathers to shame them into joining up.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ said Grace.

  ‘It nearly broke Mam’s heart, and she was never the same again. I went to look for him after the war ended, but there were loads of people over there trying to find their missing menfolk. Eventually I had to come home because I ran out of money and it was so difficult getting anywhere. Mam was relieved to have me back and said that she would go by her instincts and carry on believing he was still alive somewhere.’

  ‘I can understand her feelings,’ said Grace. ‘And it must have been awful for you.’

  He nodded. ‘She didn’t live much longer after he was gone. She got careless and cut herself when opening a tin. The cut got septic and she ended up with blood poisoning and died.’

  Tears welled in Grace’s eyes. ‘That must have been tough.’

  He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t the only one grieving. Anyway, I managed to get an apprenticeship, then I met my wife, and Simon was born a year later.’

  She wasn’t sure what to say about his wife, but watched as he lifted the bath chair outside over the step as he said, ‘I’d help you with Simon, only I’ll be late for work if I don’t leave now.’

  ‘I understand. We’ll manage.’ She stood in the doorway and watched him drive off before going back indoors.

  ‘Has your dad gone off to work already?’ asked Simon, watching her take a toasting fork from a hook on the chimney breast.

  ‘He’s a sailor on the dredgers that are helping to keep the channels clear for the ships entering the Mersey and doesn’t get home every day. He should be here the next time you come, though.’

  Simon looked pleased. ‘I’d like to talk to him about what it’s like being a sailor. Has he sailed to other countries?’

  She nodded. ‘You can ask him about that when you see him.’

  Simon fell silent and stroked Fergie, glancing at Grace as she sliced a loaf and speared the first slice on the toasting fork before kneeling on the rag rug and holding the bread out to the fire.

  ‘Can I have a piece of toast, please?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course, didn’t you have any breakfast?’

  ‘Shredded wheat. I like it, and it means Dad doesn’t have to light the fire, saves coal as nobody is going to be in the house until the evening as I’m normally at school.’

  ‘Surely you arrive home before your dad?’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s set the fire and all I have to do is put a match to it. I’m very careful,’ he said.

  ‘What about a warm drink?’ she asked.

  ‘Dad fills a flask with boiling water the night before,’ said Simon. ‘He’s been talking about buying a gas cooker when he’s saved enough money. He says it’ll make life easier for us.’

  Grace did not doubt it and wished she could persuade her father to buy one, but he was inclined to say cooking on the fire was more economical because it provided them with heat, as well, in the winter. She could not argue with that, but what with being the cook in the house she could see the advantages of gas.

  ‘Don’t let the toast burn!’ called Simon.

  Immediately she withdrew the toasting fork and eased the bread off the fork with a butter knife and then buttered the toast while it was warm before toasting and buttering another slice for Simon. She then ate her toast before pouring two cups of tea and making two more slices of toast for them.

  Then Grace switched off the wireless and did a quick tidy round before taking her purse from a drawer in the sideboard, as well as picking up Fergie’s ball, and an oilcloth shopping bag. She then removed her straw sunhat from a peg in the lobby and led the way to the front door, carrying Fergie. She placed the dog at the foot of the bath chair, and helped Simon outside and with the help of a passing male neighbour, managed to get him into the bath chair. Grace then set off pushing the chair up the street in the direction of West Derby Road and Newsham Park, thinking to go to the park first, and then the shops on the way home.

  Grace could feel the warm sun on her bare arms despite the early hour and called out a good morning to a neighbour who was out brushing her front step. She did not stop until she reached the park. Already there were some young men playing cricket on the grass. Simon mentioned that England were playing Australia and wondered aloud how England were doing. Grace had no idea, so remained silent on the subject, b
ut asked if Simon would like to stop for a while and watch the match. He shrugged and then nodded, so she brought the bath chair to a standstill.

  They watched the game for a while, and then Grace took Fergie from Simon and threw his ball for him. This game went on for twenty minutes, then Grace brought it to an end by taking the ball and giving Fergie a dog biscuit and Simon a chocolate digestive. She had one as well and produced a lemonade bottle full of water from her bag before she sat on the grass to enjoy the sunshine. She looked up at Simon.

  ‘Say when you want to move on. We can go on to the boating lake. I brought some crusts to feed the ducks.’

  ‘I like the ducks, but I haven’t fed them since Christmas Day a few years back when the lake was frozen over. I felt sorry for them slipping on the ice, even though Dad and me couldn’t help laughing because they looked so comical, like something out of a cartoon at the flickers. I hadn’t seen him laugh like that for ages.’

  She said, ‘You like cartoons?’

  He nodded. ‘Felix the Cat is my favourite, although I like all the Loony Tunes’ characters. It must be brilliant to be able to draw and think up storylines.’

  She said, ‘It definitely takes a special talent. Do you like drawing?’

  He nodded. ‘Dad thinks I could be a draughtsman.’

  ‘He doesn’t want you to follow in his footsteps in the building industry?’

  ‘No, he says it’s hard – physical work. He wants me to have an easier life than he’s had.’

  Grace resumed their earlier conversation. ‘What would he think about you being a cartoonist?’

  ‘You mean as in cartoons in the newspapers and comics or animated cartoons?’

  ‘I suppose the animated cartoonists started out as cartoonists in comics and newspapers originally,’ she said. ‘I think film-making altogether is incredible. When you think it’s not that long ago since the only moving pictures were those ones you could see at a magic lantern show.’

  Simon looked thoughtful and she handed him some water which he drank thirstily before saying, ‘Shall we go and feed the ducks then?’