‘I notice you’re still limping,’ Mr Westholme said. ‘Lavinia told me your operation wasn’t entirely successful.’
‘No. I can get around, but it’s not ideal.’
‘May I examine your leg?’
She went outside to remove her stocking, then put her left foot up on a chair.
He felt around her ankle joint gently. ‘The surgeon hasn’t set it quite right,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t operate on you that day as I was dealing with a very urgent case. I seem to remember it was at a time when conditions were very hectic.’
‘The hospital was overflowing with wounded.’ Some had been lying on the floor on stretchers, still waiting for a bed, she remembered.
‘How do you feel about having it reset?’ he asked.
‘Oh,’ she said. She had often wondered whether that would be effective. ‘Do you think there’s a good chance of improving it?’
‘I’m afraid we’d need to operate again to realign the bones,’ he said, looking at her seriously through his glasses.
‘You’d be in pain again,’ Lavinia warned her, with a steady gaze from her dark eyes. ‘You’d need to wear a cast for a few weeks, but in the end the result should be worth it.’
‘Oh, goodness – I would like to get around more easily,’ she said, trying to decide what to do.
‘Even when it’s set and they’ve taken off the plaster, it’ll take a while longer to strengthen,’ her friend said.
Amy turned to her, remembering her wide medical knowledge. ‘What would you do, if it was you?’
‘I’d have it done,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I’d definitely recommend it for you.’
‘I could take you back to London with me and operate tomorrow,’ Mr Westholme told her. ‘After that I have to return to France.’
She had to decide quickly, she realised. ‘I’d like to talk to Edmond about it,’ she said. ‘In an hour or so he should be back from College, and his friend should be too. I can ring Horace and ask him to tell Edmond to ring me urgently.’
‘Listen, Amy, Lavinia and I are going to call on the family in Alderbank,’ he told her. ‘I can be back here by about seven and take you with us to London in the car. I can take an X-ray of your ankle, to confirm what I think needs doing. You can stay overnight in the hospital, ready for the operation tomorrow.’
In her head excitement mingled with doubts. ‘It’s extremely kind of you to offer me this,’ she said, ‘but I would like to discuss it with Edmond first.’
‘Very well. We’ll call back at seven. Be ready if you’re going ahead with the operation.’
The sunshine was beginning to fade as they left. Amy rang Horace’s number as soon as he might be home, but there was no reply. She was expecting Edmond to ring her from a public phone, to confirm that she and Beth were able to move to Cambridge at the weekend. Now, if she went ahead with the operation, they would have to postpone their reunion once more. Generally he did not ring until half past seven, when their dinner would be finished, so it was vital that she contacted him earlier.
She had got Beth up now from her afternoon nap and she was crawling across the tiled floor as Amy hovered in the draughty hall beside the telephone. ‘What am I to do?’ she asked her daughter distractedly but the only reply was a gurgle.
Mr Derwent came out to the hall now, asking her what was going on. She told him of the opportunity to have her ankle fixed properly.
‘You should probably have the operation, if you’re prepared for the pain and inconvenience,’ he advised her.
‘Yes,’ she said, though still unwilling to delay her move to Cambridge again.
Beth had crawled to a chair and was trying to pull herself to her feet.
Amy rang Uncle Arthur and asked him to pass on a message to her mother, asking her to pick up Beth and look after her for a few more days.
‘How I’m imposing on her!’ she said to Pa, who was still there in the hall.
As she looked around, Beth made a determined effort to get upright.
‘Look!’ cried Amy. ‘She’s properly on her feet!’ Beth let go of the chair and took three unsteady steps towards her before collapsing on to her bottom. She looked surprised, but gave a little laugh and began to crawl back to the chair.
‘Did you see that?’ Amy asked Pa. ‘She actually took her first steps!’
‘She certainly did,’ he said, chuckling as the child launched herself across the room again on her plump little legs and travelled a bit further this time. ‘You’re determined to get around, aren’t you, young lady?’ He smiled indulgently at his granddaughter. ‘…I wish we could care for Beth here, but Ma’s still frail from the flu and Bea seems to lack much inclination to be a supportive aunt. It’s cold and getting dark outside. If it’s all right with your mother I’ll fetch her to collect Beth, and drive them back.’
Amy picked up her daughter, who struggled for freedom for a moment before she settled. ‘You’re doing so well, darling,’ she told Beth. ‘I wish your daddy was here to see you… It’s all the more incentive for me to walk better, now she’s becoming so active,’ she told Pa. She tried again to phone Horace, but without success.
‘If only we’d got a phone installed in your house in Cambridge,’ her father-in-law said.
Soon Amy’s mother phoned to say she was happy to take Beth, and Pa set off to fetch her.
When she arrived in her tweed winter coat to collect the child she looked anxiously at Amy. ‘Are you quite sure you want to put yourself through this again?’ she asked.
‘Beth actually started walking just now,’ Amy told her. ‘I’d love to be able to get around quickly when I’m looking after her.’ All the same, she would prefer to have Edmond’s blessing.
She hugged Beth and passed her to her mother.
‘I’ll be thinking of you, darling,’ Mrs Fletcher said.
When Pa was back from driving them to Sebastopol Terrace, Amy still had not succeeded in contacting Horace. ‘I’d better get ready, on the assumption that I’m going ahead,’ she said.
‘I’ll get Cook to send you up some tea and something to eat,’ Mr Derwent said.
The maid had lit a small fire in her room, but it was less cheerful there now with Edmond away and their favourite belongings sent to Cambridge. She packed a small suitcase and ate most of the food Cook brought. If only she could speak to Edmond.
It was nearly time for the Westholmes to collect her. She stood in the hallway with her coat and hat and her luggage, making one last attempt to phone Horace.
He was still not home. Beatrice came into the hall to see whether the telephone was free. Now that peace was restored she was making arrangements to meet friends and hoping lively social events would resume.
‘Are you really going back into hospital?’ she asked. ‘What does Edmond think?’
‘I haven’t been able to reach him,’ she said, reluctantly hanging up.
She stared at Amy. ‘Is it true you’ll be back in plaster? You’ll be handicapped again?’ Her green eyes probed Amy’s face.
‘I’m afraid so, for a while.’
‘How do you know it’ll work this time? It could leave you in a worse state than before!’ Beatrice had been hostile towards her in the past but now she looked concerned. ‘Do you think Edmond would want you to have another operation?’
‘I don’t know for certain, but Mr Westholme is a much respected surgeon and I’m lucky he’s offered to do my operation.’ She supposed he was still grateful that she had behaved well during her appearance in court, all those years earlier, not betraying Lavinia as ringleader of their civil disobedience.
‘I hope you’re doing the right thing,’ Beatrice said.
Cook came to say that dinner was served. Beatrice postponed making her call and went to join the others in the dining room.
The doorbell rang: Lavinia and her father had come for Amy.
Mr Derwent interrupted his meal to see her off. ‘I’ll go on ringing Cambridge to tell Edmond what�
�s happening,’ he said.
‘He’ll probably ring here at seven thirty.’
‘The very best of luck, Amy.’ He carried her suitcase to Mr Westholme’s car.
As they drove off she found it hard to join in conversation with the others, as she anticipated the ordeal of another operation.
* * *
Lavinia was encouraging as Amy settled down that night on the ward in a major central London hospital. The other women there were routine surgical cases.
Mr Westholme had used his influence to get an X-ray of her ankle taken outside the usual hours and said it would be developed in time for him to consult it the next day.
‘While you’re in I’ll be able to visit you,’ Lavinia said. ‘I’ve agreed to go back to work tomorrow, as Father is returning to France. I can come here by bus when I’m off duty.’
Pa should have spoken to Edmond by now, Amy thought. What will he think when he hears what I’m doing? We were planning to be together this weekend.
* * *
So here I am again, Amy thought next morning, lying with a dozen other patients being attended by nurses in starched caps and aprons, in a ward smelling of antiseptic. She had passed a restless night. Once she had even dreamt that she was back in the hospital in Ypres, with Edmond desperately ill.
If only I’d been able to speak to him, she thought. And yet, I’ve always said a woman should be allowed to make her own decisions. I still believe that: it’s just that this decision affects all of us. Suppose the operation goes wrong and I’m left worse than before? Even if it goes well, I’ll need to spend some weeks in plaster, and I’ll be of very little help to Edmond or Beth in that time.
As they wheeled her along to the operating theatre she reminded herself of Mr Westholme’s acclaimed skills.
Chapter Twenty
London and Larchbury, November
As Amy began to return to consciousness she was aware of her aching leg. Then she noticed the figure beside her bed. It looked like Edmond, but he was in Cambridge. As she became wider awake she looked again. There was no mistaking him.
‘Is it really you?’ she cried. ‘Why aren’t you at College?’
‘I found out last night that you were having the operation.’ He leant over the bed, enveloped her in his arms and kissed her. ‘I had to see you. I set off early this morning. How are you feeling?’
Her leg was not giving her agony, as it had over a year before, when she was first injured, but it might be worse when the anaesthetic had completely worn off. Feeling beneath the blankets her fingers located the new plaster enclosing it. ‘I won’t know if the operation is a success for weeks yet,’ she said.
‘My sweet, brave girl!’
‘Did you bring those roses?’ she asked him, gazing at the large bunch of pink blooms in a vase by her bed.
‘Yes.’ He held the vase nearer for her to smell their fragrance.
‘How did you find such beautiful ones at this time of year?’
He smiled. ‘I discovered a high-class florist’s. You deserved a lovely bouquet.’
‘I wanted to ask your advice before I decided on the operation,’ she told him, ‘but I couldn’t contact you in time.’
‘I was angry, but not with you. Have Ma and Beatrice been mean about your limp?’
‘Beatrice might have been, occasionally, but I don’t pay much attention. Actually, she’s been more understanding lately.’
‘I hope they didn’t persuade you to have another operation. So long as you weren’t pressurised I’d have wanted you to go ahead, providing you can face all the pain again.’
‘I won’t be able to look after you or Beth properly for weeks now. What are we to do?’
‘We’ll think of something.’ He smiled in the way that always reassured her.
‘I’m still a bit woozy,’ she said. ‘I expect I look a mess.’ She reached for her bag and found her mirror and comb.
‘Let me, darling.’ He took the comb and gently ran it through her hair, before showing her her reflection. ‘There! You’re lovely as ever.’
Then Mr Westholme came to see her. ‘I’m confident the operation went well,’ he told her. ‘Are you comfortable?’
‘As much as I can expect, so soon after. Thank you for everything.’
He looked at his watch. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I need to catch a train.’
Edmond stayed with her, holding her hand and telling her of the various celebrations that had taken place at university to mark the end of the war. ‘Something weird happened when the news first came,’ he said. ‘Some students made for Bertrand Russell’s rooms on Trinity Street and smashed them up.’
‘Why did they do that?’
‘He’d said the war was wrong. They said it had been right, and anyway we won it.’
‘I’ll never believe the war was justifiable,’ she told him.
Presently the ward sister arrived to remind him it was time he went.
‘Sister is right – I should leave you to sleep and get over the anaesthetic,’ he said. ‘It’s Friday, and I don’t need to be back at College till Monday. I thought I’d go to Larchbury and call on your parents to see Beth – Pa told me she’s walking!’
‘Yes – she suddenly took off – your father was actually there when it happened.’
‘She’s a determined girl, like her mother… Then I’ll go to The Beeches and see how Ma is getting on.’
‘She’ll be thrilled to see you.’ It would probably even help her recovery.
‘I promise I’ll call here on Sunday before going back to College.’
* * *
On the Saturday Lavinia had a half day and began the afternoon by visiting Amy, who had been considerably cheered by Edmond’s visit. Then she went to the other hospital to see Charles. Is it too soon to visit him again? she wondered. But he always seemed to welcome her.
He was sitting up in bed reading a letter. He smiled and reached for her hand. ‘It’s kind of you to spend your time visiting me.’
She enquired after his progress, then told him about Amy’s operation.
‘She’s a brave young woman,’ he said. ‘I hope it’s been successful this time.’
He turned back to his letter. ‘I heard from Frank Bentley this morning. He’s still in France. He says how eerie it seemed when the artillery finally went quiet. And when they marched into the town the nuns came and stuck flowers into the barrels of their guns.’
Her thoughts hovered between delight and concern for the months ahead. ‘Somehow we have to put it all behind us and look to the future.’
‘Lavinia, do you think you could wheel me out of here again, down the corridor to that place where we can look out on the street?’
‘Yes, of course.’ He must welcome a change of scene.
‘I’m sorry the chair is so heavy for you to move,’ he said as she helped him into it.
Lieutenant Parker had two comrades visiting, and a well-built officer in uniform volunteered to push Charles. There was a spare chair in the corridor and she sat next to him as the lights began to come on in the dim street outside, where Union Jacks still fluttered.
‘Thank you.’
After he had enjoyed the street scene for a few minutes he turned his dark eyes on hers seriously. ‘How lucky Edmond is to have a devoted wife like Amy! Whenever you come to see me I wonder if you could become close to me like that.’
Heavens, he sounds almost as if he cares for me, Lavinia thought. His eyes continued to linger on hers. ‘Do you think you might ever be tempted into marriage?’ He pursued. ‘I’m not the good-looking man I used to be, of course.’
‘You mean – you and me?’ she said, scarcely able to pronounce the words, for there must be some kind of mistake.
‘I’m no great catch,’ he said sadly.
‘I didn’t mean that, Charles. Of course you’ll make someone a fine husband. But it’s not long since you were engaged to Beatrice. I can understand how dreadful it was when she broke off the
engagement, but you mustn’t rush into another commitment.’
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t even suggest it,’ he replied uneasily. ‘You’re so valuable as a nurse and maybe you wouldn’t even want to be a wife.’
‘I have sometimes considered it,’ she admitted, ‘though no-one has ever asked me.’ She had become resigned to the way people viewed her. ‘I’m simply not a pretty young woman, the kind who attracts admiration at parties and would manage her servants to run a beautiful home.’
‘I used to believe those kind of talents were important,’ he said, ‘but I’ve learnt that they aren’t all that matter. We’re living in a different world now from the one we knew five years ago.’ He squeezed her hand.
She sat, confused. A life with Charles – sometimes when her thoughts became unruly she had allowed herself to dream of such a future. But it was all so sudden. Was he anxious to find a wife now Beatrice was no longer available? Was he imagining her in the role because she was experienced at helping the wounded?
‘Perhaps you don’t know everything I’ve done in the past, Charles. Before the war I used to be active with the Suffragettes.’
‘I know about that,’ he grinned. ‘It was common knowledge in Wealdham and Alderbank.’
‘I suppose it must have been,’ she realised. She had paraded wearing the white, green and violet sash. ‘But you probably don’t know the worst part. I was with Amy when she went into the cricket pavilion in Larchbury – in fact I was the one who broke in and painted the slogans that were hard to remove.’
‘I wondered if you were there that day,’ he said, apparently unshocked.
‘You don’t understand how serious it was. Amy got sent to prison, but I was the one who should have been punished.’ When she recalled the incident, remorse still plagued her. ‘On the day of her wedding – well, the day she should have been married – I couldn’t get time off from the hospital where I was training. So I wasn’t there when she was arrested.’ The old guilt flooded back. ‘If I’d been there, I’d have owned up and been arrested. Once they’d sentenced me and realised I was the ringleader they’d probably have been more lenient with Amy.’
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