by Rosie Harris
‘What’s it all going to cost me?’ she asked.
‘You give me five hundred pounds and then you pay a regular instalment of just twenty-five pounds a month.’
‘Five hundred pounds. I haven’t that much to give you,’ she gasped.
‘I can take a cheque made out to cash,’ he repeated with a bland smile.
‘I don’t know, that’s an awful lot of money and anyway, at the moment I am unable to write a cheque for you or anyone else because of these …’ As she spoke she raised her bandaged hands.
‘Give me your cheque book and I’ll write the cheque and all you have to do is sign it. I’m sure you can manage to do that,’ he added with a smile.
‘No she can’t and even if she was able to then I wouldn’t let her do it,’ a voice suddenly said in an aggressive tone of voice.
‘Peter, I didn’t hear you come in,’ Betty gasped.
‘No, and neither did this young thieving bastard,’ Peter said.
‘Now,’ he said turning to the man, ‘collect up your papers and get out and think yourself lucky that I don’t call the police to deal with you.’
‘You’ve no call to be so aggressive, Mr Wilson—’
‘I’m not Mr Wilson, but nevertheless I’m telling you to scram. One more word and I’ll call the police.’
As he picked up the phone the intruder stuffed all his papers into his briefcase and left without another word.
‘Oh dear, I shouldn’t have let him in, should I?’ Betty said contritely. ‘You won’t tell Tim, will you?’
‘No, your secret is safe with me,’ Peter told her, ‘but you really do have to learn that doorstep salesmen are not to be trusted, Betty, and never have anything to do with anyone who turns up on the doorstep unless you have made an appointment for them to come.’
It was three weeks before Betty was able to dispense the enveloping bandages on her hands and, although she became used to her own clumsy movement, she found it still took her an interminable time to get dressed and impossible to do more than dab at her face with a damp flannel. She longed to soak in a bath or to stand under a shower, but had been warned that this should be avoided until the skin had healed.
As well as the dressings beneath the bandages, she was also taking regular doses of paracetamol to reduce the pain and inflammation.
Peter struggled to provide her with meals that were easy for her to eat, and often despaired because of the difficulty she had in eating them. She simply had no appetite and, because the weather was cold with occasional bouts of sleet and snow, there was no question of her going out into the fresh air.
When they returned to the hospital in February the skin on her face and neck, although badly wrinkled, was completely healed. The palm of her right hand was still painful, but there were no blisters or infection and it was decided to leave off the dressing and let the air help to harden the skin.
Betty found that the palms of her hands were still very tender, and that whenever she went out she had to wear gloves to protect them from the cold.
Peter was very protective and wouldn’t allow her to carry anything in case she chafed the newly form skin. When she insisted on helping with the washing up after their meal, or helping with the dusting, he made sure that she was wearing protective gloves.
Tim and Mary’s calls became fewer and fewer when they saw how settled she was, and the care that Peter was taking to make her life as smooth and comfortable as possible.
Each time he did call in, Tim always reminded Peter that if there were any problems then he was to phone him, he was always there to help if he was needed.
When Betty questioned Tim about what was happening about her home he always came out with the same stock answer that all was in hand, and that there was nothing for her to worry about. He was waiting for the insurance company to deal with his claim and once that was settled and the money in the bank he would start making a move to have it rebuilt.
It all sounded very organized and cosy but Betty silently brooded about the charred wreck only a couple of doors away. It was so unsightly; the blackened remains of what had once been her home was a constant reproach of her foolish action.
Fifteen
The only person who seemed to understand her concern, and how much it distressed her to see the charred ruin every time she walked past it, was Sally Bishop.
‘If only we could pull down a curtain and shut it away out of sight,’ she said with a smile. ‘It must be worse for you than it is for me and I hate walking past it.’
‘I wouldn’t mind so much if I was able to go inside and see if there is anything I could save,’ Betty said wistfully.
‘I shouldn’t think there is by now,’ said Sally in a practical voice. ‘After all, it’s had months of sun, rain, snow and frost on it; in fact, every element there is has attacked it, including gale force winds. What’s more, you know the fire brigade must have done quite a lot of damage when they sprayed their hoses in it in order to out put the fire.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Betty agreed. ‘You wouldn’t think that one small match could do so much damage, would you.’
‘You never did say what you were burning,’ Sally said, giving Betty a quizzical look.
‘Nothing of any importance,’ Betty said in a non-committal tone.
‘I thought it must be something you didn’t want that Brenda to read,’ Sally said sagely.
Betty flushed. ‘Well, yes it was,’ she admitted.
Sally waited for her to explain, but for once Betty wasn’t prepared to take Sally into her confidence.
Although they went on to talk of other things the thought of going into the charred ruins of her old home, and making quite certain there was nothing else she didn’t want made public, persisted in Betty’s mind. She couldn’t sleep at night for thinking about it and, in the end, she resolved that given a suitable opportunity she would take a look and find out.
She’d be very careful, she told herself. If she thought it was too dangerous then she’d stop immediately, but somehow the very fact that the house had remained upright and in one piece all through the winter weather made her wonder if it was as great a wreck as Tim and the others insisted that it was.
Her opportunity came a couple of weeks later. Peter had been complaining about toothache and they had decided that one of the fillings in his back molars had either worn away or fallen out.
‘It looks as though I shall have to see the dentist,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I can’t stand this pain any longer.’
On the morning of his appointment he made Betty promise him she wouldn’t go out shopping on her own.
‘Of course I won’t,’ she told him. ‘Why would I when there is nothing we need from the shops!’
‘Good,’ Peter told her. ‘Why don’t you ask Sally to come along and have a coffee with you while I’m at the dentist?’
‘That’s a good idea, and I’ve got some cupboards I want to sort out and rearrange so I can get on and do that while you are out,’ she told him.
It was a lovely spring morning and as she went along to ask Sally to join her for coffee she couldn’t help wondering if the snowdrops and crocuses had managed to survive in the garden of her old home. Both she and Jeff had always looked forward to them coming into flower because they both felt that it signalled that winter was over and spring had arrived.
The closer she got to the charred ruins, the greater was the temptation to take a peek through to the back garden. From the gate she was sure that she could see a glimmer of white at the far end of the path that led to the garden and was sure that it must be snowdrops.
Hesitantly she pushed open the gate. She might as well pick them, no one else would appreciate them and she would feel that she had salvaged something from the ruins, she thought with an inward smile.
She’d been right. There was a wonderful clump, fighting to raise their heads above the tangled grass and weeds. She bent down and picked a bunch. Jeff had planted them the first year they had been
married and they had meant so much to both of them; harbingers of spring and the year ahead.
Carrying the snowdrops carefully, she went further down the path to see if any crocuses were out in the lawn at the back of the house. The state of the garden horrified her. Tiles had blown off the roof and lay scattered and broken; broken panes of glass and great lumps of blackened plaster that must have blown down from the bedroom completely covered the grass.
She stared upwards at the scorched walls; the broken windows like sightless eyes stared back at her accusingly. The memory would haunt her for the rest of her days she thought as she went back to the path and made for the gate.
For now, she’d go and find Sally. She needed company; someone to talk to who could disperse her gloomy, self-recriminating thoughts.
As she walked past the front door she couldn’t resist the urge to just peep inside. She put her hand against the woodwork and a long thin piece broke away and stuck to her hand before dropping to the ground like a discarded scab, sending a shiver racing through her body.
Even so, she couldn’t help wondering if the place was really as unsafe as Tim insisted that it was.
Daringly she put first one foot, then the other, over the threshold until she was standing in the dilapidated remains of the hall. All around her everything was blackened and burnt, but when she touched the walls they seemed quite strong, and the floor leading from the hall into the living room seemed as sound and sturdy as she remembered. She was sure Tim had been exaggerating.
Having managed to get this far without mishap she decided to see if there was anything in the living room that she could salvage. One step led to two, and then she suddenly found herself standing in the middle of what had been her sitting room. Betty was astounded to see that the display shelves at the side of the fireplace, which Jeff had built, were not only still intact but that some of her most precious ornaments were still on them. They were covered in grime but she was sure that they were not otherwise damaged.
Carefully she moved closer and stood staring at them in disbelief. Overjoyed that they had survived the onslaught of the fire and the winter elements she reached up to take one down so that she could examine it.
As she lifted it from the shelf it was like the game dominoes that Tim and Mary had played when they were small; each one fell and crashed against the next one. They continued until each one had tumbled against the next and the entire stretch of them had smashed. The movement as one ornament hit against the next upset the actual shelves and they too started to move and came crashing down around her.
The sharp edge of one of them struck her on the temple. The pain seared through her head, leaving her so shaken and dizzy that she was engulfed in an impenetrable blackness. She fell forward, now striking the front of her head against the edge of the fireplace with such force that it rendered her unconscious and she slumped onto the floor.
Although Betty had promised to invite Sally Bishop round for coffee, Peter made doubly sure that Sally went along to his place at mid-morning by calling in to tell her to do so before he went to the dentist.
Sally waited until almost eleven o’clock for Betty to call and confirm the invitation. When she didn’t, she decided that since Betty must know that Peter had called to tell her so she’d better go along anyway.
It was a lovely spring morning, but there was a nip in the air so Sally put on a heavy cardigan. It felt rather too warm but she could always take it off again when she was at Peter’s place, she told herself. She locked her front door and was singing to herself as she made the short walk. It was one of those days when it felt good to be alive.
She was surprised when she reached Peter’s place to find the door ajar but there was no sign of Betty. She walked round to the back of the house to see if she was in the garden, but there was no sign of her out there either.
Calling out her name, Sally pushed open the door and ventured into the house. In the kitchen a tray was laid ready with two china mugs and a plate of biscuits and the coffee percolator was bubbling away, but there was no one in there. All was silent.
Puzzled, Sally went through the house, room by room in case Betty had fallen somewhere and was lying unconscious or so badly hurt she couldn’t call out. The entire house was deserted.
She returned to the kitchen and wondered where on earth Betty could be. Then, whilst gazing out the window, she caught site of the blackened ruins. With growing apprehension, she wondered if Betty had defied all their warnings and gone in to look inside her old home.
Heart in mouth, Sally made her way back to the blazed remains of Betty’s home. She stood just inside the gate, trying to see if there was any movement either in the dilapidated garden or the charred building, but everywhere there was an eerie silence.
Convinced that Betty must be there somewhere, Sally made her way to the front door and peered into the darkness. As she lifted one foot to step inside a man’s voice shouted a warning at her, ordering her to stop. Sally froze, then as she turned her head she saw Peter was pushing open the gate.
Her heart thudded. She would have to tell him why she was there and what she was doing, but from the angry look on his face as he came nearer she was scared what his reaction was going to be.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ he said in an angry voice.
Sally drew in a deep breath. ‘Looking for Betty; I’ve just come from your place and she isn’t there.’
‘Are you quite sure?’ Peter’s frown deepened.
‘I’ve been all over your house and garden. She isn’t there. The coffee is bubbling away so—’
Peter didn’t wait for her to finish. He didn’t need her to tell him where she thought Betty might be.
‘Stay here, don’t move,’ he ordered, as he pushed past her and went into the house.
From the doorway she heard his exclamation of horror and, without a moment’s hesitation, went to see what had happened.
Sixteen
Sally found Peter in Betty’s sitting room staring down and a pile of debris scattered all around him. He was white-faced and tense and instinctively she knew that something dreadful had happened.
She went to his side and gasped when she saw that Betty was lying on the floor by his feet beneath the rubble.
As she moved forward to try and reach her, Peter laid a restraining hand on her arm.
‘Be careful, one movement and you may bring more rubble down on her,’ he cautioned.
‘We can’t just leave her there, she’s been knocked unconscious and she may be injured.’
‘I know that, but if I move that shelf that is pinning her to the ground it may bring the other shelves crashing down. They are all linked together in some way. I remember how proud Jeff was of the ingenious way he had managed to do it.’
‘We can’t leave her lying underneath that shelf,’ Sally reiterated. ‘Have you checked her pulse to see if … if …’
Sally’s voice petered out as if she was afraid to complete the question.
‘No, not yet,’ Peter said.
‘I think we should,’ Sally told him.
Gingerly he moved a step or two closer and crouched down and then took Betty’s hand, his fingers on her wrist. The silence was ominous, but when he looked up Sally could see the relief on his face.
‘There is a pulse but it’s very faint. Can you go and call for an ambulance? Tell them what has happened so that they can send someone to help lift the shelf.’
Sally found her hand shaking as she dialled 999 from the phone in her own living room. She took a deep breath to calm herself down; she didn’t want to appear hysterical when they answered.
As lucidly as possible she told the operator what had happened.
‘She is still alive?’
‘Yes, she has a pulse but it’s very weak,’ Sally confirmed.
‘Stay with her, don’t attempt to move her or the shelf and someone will be with you within a few minutes,’ the operator promised.
When she got back
to Betty’s sitting room, Sally reported this word for word to Peter.
Whilst she had been phoning, he had tried to clear away some of the debris to make it easier to reach Betty and for her to breathe, but he realized that the shelf was far too heavy for him to move single-handed and to try to do so might only end in Betty suffering even worse injuries.
A few minutes later they heard the sound of an approaching ambulance.
There seemed to be two sirens ringing and Peter looked puzzled.
‘They’ve probably sent a fire engine as well,’ Sally observed as she headed for the open doorway to look out for them.
She was quite right. As well as the ambulance a fire engine was also pulling up by the gate.
The middle-aged ambulance driver pursed his lips as he observed the situation and then stood back so that the firemen could try and free Betty. There were three burly firemen and they immediately assessed the situation and acted accordingly. Two of them held the other shelving while the third, a muscular younger man, lifted up the shelf that was resting on Betty’s chest.
As the heavy wooden shelf was lifted off Betty, one of the paramedics knelt down and assessed her condition. While he was doing this the other paramedic went out to the ambulance and brought in a stretcher.
With great care they lifted Betty and laid her on the stretcher. She was still unconscious but the paramedics waited until they had taken her into the ambulance before they administered an injection and placed a gas and air mask over her face to help with her breathing. Peter and Sally thanked the firemen as they withdrew and Sally followed the paramedics as they carried the stretcher with Betty on it out to the ambulance.
‘Are you coming with us?’ one of them asked, looking from Peter to Sally and back again.
‘I’m coming with you,’ Peter told them.
He stopped as he reached the ambulance steps and turned back to Sally. ‘Whatever you do, don’t try to go in there. All this movement has shaken the rest of the house and it’s extremely dangerous.’