Brave Faces

by Mary Arden

  ‘Upstairs, first room on the left,’ I replied.

  The doctor smiled and then said, ‘Thank you, now I want you to boil some hot water for me please.’

  ‘Yes of course doctor,’ I said, thinking he must need the hot water to sterilise a scalpel or something like that. ‘Is there anything else you want me to do?’

  ‘Yes. After the water has boiled, I’d like you to pour it into a pot, add some tea and then find some milk and sugar!’ he grinned. ‘I think a good strong cup of tea is always the best remedy in a crisis, don’t you?’ He then went upstairs to see Duncan.

  I felt strangely reassured by the doctor’s easy-going manner. However, my sense of relief was short lived when the doctor came back downstairs and said, ‘Mrs Ogilvie, there is nothing I can personally do. Your husband should have gone straight to hospital two days ago instead of coming up to Scotland to see you, so I’m sorry but he must go to the hospital in Perth now… at once!’

  I stared at him in shock, as he continued talking. ‘I am going to phone for an ambulance, as your husband needs immediate treatment.’ He then asked me where the phone was, so I pointed to the table near the door. ‘Now then, let’s have that cup of tea while we wait shall we?’ he said before making the call.

  After he had hung up I asked him if it was all right for me to take a cup of tea up to Duncan.

  ‘No my dear, I’m afraid not,’ the doctor said and then explained why. ‘Your husband may have to be operated on this evening, so its better if he has nothing to drink or eat beforehand.’

  I longed to go up and lie beside my poor sick husband and hold him in my arms but felt it would be rude to leave this kind doctor on his own to wait for the ambulance, so instead I answered his questions as best I could. What had Duncan been doing at Trincomalee? Was he usually fit and healthy? Could I think of any reason why he didn’t go straight to hospital, as soon as he had arrived in England, other than wanting to see Charlotte and me?

  When the ambulance had arrived, the doctor gave Duncan an injection, which made him lose consciousness almost immediately. He was then put on a stretcher, carried down the narrow stairs, put into the back of the ambulance and driven straight to hospital. I was numb with shock and felt like screaming, but when I saw that my neighbours were watching, I rushed back indoors, before allowing myself to cry.

  Doctor Frazer followed me inside the house, and said, ‘I promise that I will ring you as soon as I know what the treatment is going to be, and whether he has to have an operation or not. Meanwhile is there anyone you can stay with in Perth so that you can keep his spirits up by visiting him every day?’ I told him that we could stay with Duncan’s parents. He said that was good to know and then left.

  I was in such shock that I felt like a zombie but somehow managed to feed Charlotte and put her to bed, before ringing Grandpa John to tell him that his son was on his way to Perth hospital.

  ‘They have taken him away in an ambulance, as his leg has gangrene and it’s rotting,’ I sobbed.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Grandpa John said and then after a short pause added, ‘Right this is what we are going to do, Mary. Pack a few clothes and I’ll come and collect you and bring you here tomorrow and meanwhile I’ll call the hospital to ask if I can see Duncan tonight, as my poor boy must be out of his mind with worry having to leave you so soon.’

  I went into the kitchen to get something to eat, but when I looked in the larder and saw the chicken casserole that I’d prepared earlier, as a welcome home treat for Duncan, I started crying again.

  Grandpa John rang me early the next morning to tell me that Duncan was going to be transferred to St Georges’ hospital in London, as they had the very best treatment there, so instead of coming to stay with them, I should go straight back to my parents instead.

  When I rang my parents to tell them what had happened, my father told me to come home at once. He then promised to get in touch with my cousin, Marcus, to ask him to keep an eye on Duncan once he had been admitted to the London hospital.

  The following day Grandpa John turned up after lunch to pick us up and before we left, he made sure that everything in the cottage was turned off, so that it was safe to leave empty for however long I ended up being away. While he did that, I booked a ticket on the overnight train to London. The train journey was uneventful and thankfully Charlotte slept for most of the time, but I was too anxious thinking about Duncan to get much sleep myself.

  When we eventually arrived at Hilltop House, my mother came outside to welcome us home and took Charlotte from me. My father then told me that my cousin, Marcus had rung him earlier that day to say that he was going to be allowed to confer with the specialist in charge of Duncan’s treatment and not to worry, as Duncan was being sedated with morphine, so wouldn’t be in any pain at the moment.

  It soon became apparent that Duncan was going to be in the London hospital for quite some time, so my mother decided to employ a Norland Nanny to look after Charlotte. This would allow me to travel up and down to London to visit my husband without having to worry about our daughter all the time. I was very grateful because I thought that if Duncan could see me every day, it would help him recuperate and after all we still had a lot of catching up to do.

  When the Nanny arrived she took over looking after Charlotte completely, so I was now free to travel up to London to visit Duncan. Aunt Beth insisted on coming with me the first time to give me some moral support. On the way to the hospital we stopped off to buy some sweets, magazines and flowers, and when we got there Aunt Beth said she’s wait for me, so that I could have the some time with Duncan on my own.

  I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, so when a nurse led me to his ward and I saw him propped up by a couple of pillows in his bed, I had to force myself not to cry, as he looked truly awful and was obviously very unwell the poor man. He winced when he lent over to give me a kiss and then we talked about Charlotte for a while, until a nurse came to give him an injection, which I presumed was morphine, as he fell asleep almost at once. When Aunt Beth came to find me she was shocked at how ill Duncan looked and suggested that we go back to her flat until it was time for me to go home.

  I did the same journey to and from London every day for the next two weeks and although Duncan didn’t seem to be getting any better, he kept telling me that he was ‘doing just fine’, so I made a big effort to remain as cheerful as I could, and made silly jokes and chatted to the other patients in the ward with him, who were mostly army officers with arm or leg wounds, before going home again.

  I rang Duncan’s parents every evening to keep them updated about Duncan and reassured them that I would let them know if there was any change. Grandpa John always sounded so cheerful on the phone that I wondered whether he hadn’t really taken in just how ill his son was.

  On my next visit, I noticed that everyone else in the ward seemed to be getting better except for Duncan, and I was now getting very concerned that he was still in such great pain, so I asked Marcus if he could talk to the doctor in charge again.

  As my cousin, Jane, was now back at home with her family in St John’s Wood, she suggested that we meet up for lunch the next day, so that she would then come and visit Duncan with me. On the way there, we talked about her cousin, Jim, who would soon be ‘demobbed’ and about their plans for the future.

  When we arrived at the entrance to Duncan’s ward, Marcus was waiting for us. For a brief moment, I thought that Duncan was being sent home, but when Marcus didn’t smile at me, or make one of his usual funny jokes, I realised something must be very wrong.

  ‘I am glad that Jane is with you Mary, as the specialist wants to see you,’ he said quietly, ‘and I’m afraid he hasn’t got good news.’

  I suddenly realised the seriousness of the situation and began to shake. Jane must have noticed, as she slipped her arm around my shoulder and held me close, so that I could lean my weight against her.

  A moment later the specialist surgeon arrived and explained to us that Duncan�
�s leg was not responding to treatment. They had tried everything, even radium exposure, but that had made it worse. Duncan’s heel was so damaged that his foot was almost hanging off his leg and the infection was now creeping up his leg.

  ‘The only treatment left is to amputate his left leg well above the infected area,’ the specialist said slowly.

  I felt faint and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I gripped Jane’s hand until she gasped with pain.

  ‘If he’d gone to hospital when he had first arrived instead of coming to be with me, would that have made any difference?’ I asked him.

  ‘No „Mrs Ogilvie, the infection should have been treated months ago, when he was still in Ceylon,’ he said. ‘I think the dye that got into his wound is most probably responsible for the damage, but we can’t really be certain. I’m really sorry, but if we don’t operate at once he will lose his life, not just his leg.’

  I felt like screaming but then Marcus gave me a gentle hug and said, ‘you must try to be brave Mary and think positive. Duncan will need you more than ever after his amputation.’ I knew that he was right and tried to pull myself together. He then took me to see Duncan, but he was out for the count on morphine, so I just gave him a kiss and went back to the station with Jane and Marcus, who had insisted on accompanying me to make sure I got on the right train.

  ‘I can’t possibly look after Charlotte and Duncan on my own,’ I whimpered, as we got to the station, ‘not now that he is going to be an invalid, it’s too much responsibility.’

  ‘Of course you bloody well can, you silly cow!’ Jane said firmly. ‘You managed to look after Charlotte on your own when Duncan was away didn’t you? So looking after him as well won’t be that much harder, will it?

  ‘Its time to stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about poor Duncan,’ Marcus added as they helped me onto the train, ‘so take a deep breath and be strong.’

  Just as the whistle blew and the train started to pull away from the station, Jane called out, ‘I’ll ring you every evening, I promise.’

  They were right of course, I knew that I could manage perfectly well if I put my mind to it. I now needed to stop being selfish and start thinking about how I could make my poor husband’s life easier, rather than adding to his troubles. It was time to grow up.

  When I got home, my mother hugged me, and said, ‘Oh my poor darling, don’t give in, we’ve come through the war and we’ll get thought this too.’ She then told me that Marcus had rung earlier to tell them the awful news, and that Aunt Beth was on her way down to give us her support.

  ‘We must let Duncan’s parents know,’ I said to my parents, ‘they will be devastated when they hear what has happened to him.’

  ‘I’ll ring them right now,’ my father assured me, as he helped himself to a double scotch before leaving the room to make the call.

  Just as we were thinking about going to bed, the phone rang. I was worried that it was more bad news, but it was quite the opposite, thank goodness. It was an Officer in Peter’s regiment who had just called to tell us that that my brother was on his way back and that he’d be home by the New Year. He warned us that Peter was very thin, as he had been sick with malaria but otherwise he was fine. This was marvellous news and cheered us all up.

  ‘Irina will soon fatten him up!’ my mother said smiling for the first time since I had returned home.

  Peter had not been able to keep in touch very often, during his time in the Intelligence Corp in Burma, and I wondered how he would adjust to civilian life now that the war was over. I longed to see him again and knew that he would do all he could to help Duncan and meanwhile my other brother, William, would do his best to look after me, until we were a complete family again.

  The following day Marcus rang to tell us that Duncan was still recovering from his operation, so not to come and see him until he gave me the all clear. ‘He needs a bit of time to come to terms with having lost one of his legs,’ my cousin explained.

  I was very worried how Duncan would react when he found out that his leg had been amputated and wasn’t surprised that he needed some time on his own before seeing me, and to be honest I wasn’t sure what my own reaction would be when I saw him with only one leg for the first time.

  Two days later, Marcus rang to say that Duncan wanted to see me, so the next morning I took the train up to London. Before leaving home my mother took me to one side and said, ‘Darling, try to remember that Duncan is still the same man you have always loved, so just tell him you love him. That’s all he needs to hear from you right now, do you understand Mary?’ I nodded. It was good advice and I did exactly what she suggested when I saw Duncan for the first time since his operation.

  ‘I love you Duncan and I always will’ I said and meant it more than ever.

  A look of such joy came over Duncan’s face that it made me smile and after I had lent over to give him a kiss he whispered, ‘I am so lucky to have you.’ He kissed me again and then said smiling, ‘Well at least it just the one leg, not like poor old Tin Legs Bader!’

  Douglas Bader had lost both his legs in a crash before the war, and then after being given ‘tin legs’ went on to become a Spitfire pilot and RAF Ace in the Battle of Britain and a national hero famous for his bravery. I felt that my husband was equally as brave, especially right now trying to make jokes so soon after his amputation just to make me feel at ease. I felt so in love with this special man at that moment, that I nearly burst into tears but having made a promise that I would put on a brave face when I was with him I stopped myself just in time.

  Duncan suddenly yelled out in excruciating pain, so I called for the ward nurse.

  ‘They call them phantom pains,’ she said after she had given Duncan a sedative and then told me that perhaps I should go now and come back for a longer visit in a couple of days.

  I rang Marcus that evening, and he explained that Duncan’s ‘phantom pain’ was most likely to be a response to mixed signals to his brain. Apparently it was quite common, after an amputation.

  ‘Chin up Mary, it could have been worse, at least his plane didn’t catch fire and he hasn’t ended being one of McIndoe’s guinea pigs,’ Marcus said before hanging up.

  The next day I sat on the edge of Duncan’s bed and we just held hands and talked about Charlotte, about Peter coming home, and about William demanding a stocking for Christmas despite now being sixteen!

  When it was time for the patients to have their lunch, the ward nurse came to puff up Duncan’s pillows, so that he could sit up to eat it and then told me it was time to leave. As I got up, Duncan told me not to come everyday but to come every other day, as then he would be able to get plenty of rest. It was obvious that he was still in a lot of pain and needed to get as much rest as he could get.

  The next time I visited him, Duncan suggested that I spend Christmas Day with my family, as Marcus and Jane had said they would visit him on Christmas morning and the hospital were putting on some special entertainment for the wounded servicemen that afternoon, so I promised that I would come the day after Boxing Day.

  It was the first Christmas after the war, and also Charlotte’s first Christmas, so I was very happy to be at home with my family, but at the same time I also felt sad, as I kept thinking about Duncan and hoped he wasn’t suffering too much. However, when I next went to see him, he didn’t appear to be in quite so much pain and seemed to be in much better spirits, so I thought that the doctor might have increased his morphine dosage over the last few days.

  I spent New Year’s Eve at home with my family, and while everyone wished each other a Happy New Year, I gave Charlotte her midnight feed.

  ‘Although the war is over, my darling Blossom,’ my father said quietly, ‘you will need to put on a brave face more than ever this coming year, as its going to be a real challenge for you both and Duncan is going to need your full support.’

  As I went to bed, my father’s words still echoed in my mind. I knew my parents would always be there fo
r me, but I also knew that the time had come for me to stand on my own two feet a bit more.

  On New Year’s Day 1946, Duncan’s father rang me to see how we were. He then suggested that we discontinue renting our Pitlochry cottage to save money. This made good sense to me but I still felt sad at the thought that Duncan would never enjoy the home I had prepared for us. I told Grandpa John that I wasn’t sure what to do with all our belongings that we had left there, however, he had already thought of that and told me that he and Bertie would collect our things and bring them back to his house, without me having to travel up there. I was very grateful and assured him that I would ring them with updates of Duncan’s progress.

  The next time I saw Duncan, he was sitting in a chair doing embroidery! I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was my big tough husband sewing a cross-stitch cloth. He proudly showed it to me and when I took a closer inspection, I saw that the stitching on the back was as neat as the front. Whatever task he took on, he always tried his best. That was one of the many things I had always admired about him. When Duncan tried to make himself more comfortable, the knee rug that had been covering his lower half, fell to the floor and I suddenly saw just how much of his leg they had cut off. I nearly fainted at the sight but quickly managed to pull myself together and gently placed his rug over him again, tucking it around his thigh, as if he’d always only had one and a half legs.

  ‘Don’t come in tomorrow, darling, they’re taking the stitches out,’ he said quietly, as I lent down to kiss him goodbye, ‘so I expect I will be a bit sore.’

  On the way home, I thought how brave my darling Duncan was and felt an overwhelming sense of love for him.

  When I got back to Hilltop House I was pleasantly surprised to see that my brother Peter had just arrived home. After giving him a long hug, I stood back to have a good look at him and was shocked to see that he had become incredibly thin and that his skin appeared to be almost yellow. He explained that this was because he had got very sick while he was in Burma but thankfully he was on the mend now. At dinner, I noticed that he hardly ate a thing, so I asked him if he wasn’t feeling hungry. He told me that he still found it hard to eat normal food, as he had got so used to only having rice with whatever else could be found to add to it.