‘Yes,’ Madeline hastily told him of her holiday in Wales.
‘Then you must get in touch with them and tell them to be vigilant. It could be that someone there was incubating it and has passed it on. Do you have a telephone? I need to phone the hospital. I think the nearest isolation one to us is in Coleshill. It’s run by nuns.’
As Madeline thought back to the conversation she’d had with Grace the evening before about the nuns in Wales, tears sprang to her eyes. Grace had been so impressed with them. Now she would be spending more time than she would have liked with them. It seemed ironic.
‘It’s in the hall,’ she informed the doctor in a shaky voice. ‘And when you’ve finished making your calls I shall have to ring my husband. He’ll be at the courts in Coventry but I’m sure he will want to come home.’ As the doctor strode towards the door she asked then, ‘Shall we pack a bag for her to take with her?’
‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ he said grimly. ‘They will burn whatever she is wearing when she’s admitted and then she’ll wear a hospital gown for the duration of her stay.’
He rushed off, taking the stairs two at a time, leaving Madeline staring helplessly at her daughter.
It was almost two hours later when the ambulance arrived and when she was told that she wasn’t permitted to travel to the hospital with her daughter, Madeline openly wept. ‘But she’s only ten years old, she’ll be frightened on her own,’ she implored the driver, a tall, skinny man with a beaked nose and enormous bushy eyebrows. Both he and his assistant were clad in a white uniform that covered them from head to foot.
‘Sorry, missus. No one’s allowed into the ambulance or the hospital apart from the doctor,’ he said, as he and the assistant lifted Grace onto a stretcher.
Madeline went even paler if that was possible. ‘What do you mean? When am I allowed to visit then?’
He shrugged. ‘Not until you come to fetch her home an’ that could be months away. But you can ring to see how she is each week.’ He gave her a sympathetic smile, then he and his colleague began to manoeuvre Grace out of the room. Grace didn’t even stir and Madeline was suddenly terrified that she had lost her beloved child already.
‘Try to be brave, my dear,’ the doctor told her kindly. ‘And be sure to do as I asked and contact the people she has been staying with.’
Madeline nodded numbly. Mrs Batley had helped her down the stairs and now she stood and watched as the men gently lifted her daughter into the back of the waiting ambulance. The doctor climbed in beside her and the doors were firmly closed then it was off and suddenly Madeline spurted forward with tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘I didn’t kiss her goodbye,’ she sobbed as Mrs Batley caught her arm and dragged her to a standstill. ‘And I didn’t tell her how much I love her!’
‘You had no need to, pet,’ she soothed in a wobbly voice. ‘Grace knows how much she is loved. Now come inside.’
They had just turned when a figure racing along the pavement brought them to a halt.
‘Madeline!’
She turned back to see Jacob, who was red in the face and breathless from his dash from the train station. He had left the judge’s chambers following her phone call and caught the first train to Nuneaton.
‘How is she? Where is she?’
Madeline pointed back the way he had just come. ‘You’re too late. She was in the ambulance you just passed.’
He grit his teeth in frustration. ‘Damn you, woman! Why didn’t you make them wait until I got home?’
Mrs Batley rounded on him defensively. ‘Don’t you understand? Your little girl is very ill … she could die! Ain’t that reason enough for ’em to want to get her to the hospital as soon as they could?’
He gulped. ‘Yes … I suppose so. But now I must go to her. Tell Harry to get the car out immediately.’
Mrs Batley shook her head. ‘You’d be wastin’ your time. No one’s allowed to see her now till she’s better.’ If she gets better, she silently thought.
‘Huh! She’s my daughter, let them try to stop me seeing her,’ he sneered.
‘Suit yerself!’ she muttered. Then she turned and led Madeline, who was sobbing uncontrollably and leaning heavily on her arm, back into the house.
Mrs Batley was all too aware that the judge would be haring off on a fool’s errand if he tried to get into the hospital, but what did she care? All her concerns were for her poor mistress at that moment. And, of course, there was also an enormous amount of cleaning to do now. When she glanced behind her before going back through the front door there was no sign of him. He’d no doubt rushed around to the back of the house to get the car. Well, let him go, she thought, and closed the front door firmly behind her.
Sometime later, Jacob Kettle drew the car to a halt outside the huge iron gates of the isolation hospital in Coleshill. They were set into a ten-foot-high wall that completely surrounded the building, ensuring no one got in without permission.
He got out of his car and shouted, ‘Hello there.’
A small lodge stood to one side on the inside of the gates and a man appeared.
‘Yes, sir, can I help you?’
Jacob glared at him impatiently. ‘Yes you can, my man, by getting theses gates open immediately.’
He had drawn himself up to his full height and made quite a daunting figure, but the man seemed unimpressed.
‘Sorry, sir. I can’t do that,’ he answered calmly.
‘What do you mean you can’t do that?’ Jacob’s face was so red with rage that he looked in danger of bursting a blood vessel. ‘My daughter has just been admitted here and I demand to see her! Do you hear me? I am Judge Kettle so open the gates right now!’
The man sniffed. ‘Makes no difference to me if you’re the king, squire,’ he replied. ‘My strict instructions are to let no one in apart from doctors and nurses. Even I ain’t allowed near the hospital. A lot of the patients have contagious diseases, see? Sorry. I’d advise you to ring up and speak to the sister in charge. Good day to you, sir.’
Jacob was hopping from foot to foot in his frustration and rushing forward, he shook the gates. ‘How dare you disobey me!’ he roared. ‘Your head will roll for this.’
The man shrugged and disappeared back into the lodge.
Back at home, Mabel stood at the sink quietly crying as she thought of Grace, and Harry, who had just come back into the room, bit his lip. Mrs Batley was no doubt upstairs trying to calm the mistress so he and Mabel were alone for once.
‘Don’t cry, lass,’ he soothed as he went and awkwardly put his arm across her shoulders. Never having known what it was like to be loved he wasn’t sure quite sure how to handle this. But he knew that it hurt him inside to see Mabel upset.
‘Oh, Harry, the poor little mite.’ She turned abruptly and buried her head in his chest and feelings he had never known before surged through him. Instinctively his arms went about her and he wanted to take away her pain. He wanted to kiss away her tears and look after her for ever, but of course he knew that this was never going to happen. Mabel was lovely, the most beautiful girl he had ever met, both inside and out, so what chance was there for him? He had nothing to offer her and worse yet, his legs were crippled with rickets. Why would a girl like her ever look at him when she could surely have any chap she set her cap at? And so he merely stood and comforted her as she cried, and kept all the feelings he had for her hidden away.
Chapter Eighteen
‘But you’ve been telling me that for the last month, sister, surely you could be a little more specific. When can I visit my daughter?’ Jacob Kettle was struggling to remain polite but losing his patience by the second.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I repeat, Grace is as well as can be expected at this stage of the illness and is holding her own. That is the best we can hope for. Now I must bid you good day, sir.’
The phone went dead and Jacob slammed it back onto the cradle and groaned with frustration. It was now late in September but despite hi
s threats and entreaties he had still not been allowed to visit Grace. It seemed that his status as a judge meant nothing to the nursing sisters and they treated him exactly the same as the other patients’ parents.
‘How is she?’ Madeline’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned on her. As usual, she was flanked by Mabel and Mrs Batley, who hovered around her as if she was the one who was ill, and it irritated him even further.
‘How the hell should I know? All those idiot nuns will tell me is that she is holding her own and is as well as can be expected! Holding her own indeed! What’s that supposed to mean? For two pins, I’d go and demand to take her out of there! There has to be another hospital that would treat her where I was allowed to visit.’
‘There isn’t, I’ve already made enquiries,’ his wife informed him dully.
The separation from Grace was hurting her just as much as it was hurting him, but Jacob was oblivious to that. Oblivious to everything except the fact that he could not visit his child. Strangely enough, Madeline could sympathise with him on that count. She of all people knew just how much he adored their daughter and although she felt his adoration sometimes went beyond the normal, she could feel his pain. She had shared a wonderful relationship with her own father but she could never remember him treating her as Jacob treated Grace. It wasn’t as if he was the only one concerned for her, after all. She herself lay awake night after night worrying. Was Grace conscious and thinking that they had abandoned her? Was she in pain with no one there to hold her hand? Was she getting better or was she worse? Round and round the questions went until sometimes Madeline thought she would go mad. Each time the phone rang her heart sank. What if it was the hospital calling with bad news?
Just then, some mail plopped through the letterbox and with a strangled grunt Jacob went to lift it from the mat before disappearing into his study.
‘Come on, pet.’ Mrs Batley gently took Madeline’s arm. ‘They do say no news is good news. Let’s get you into the day room, there’s a nice fire in there and I’ll bring you some coffee. And perhaps a bit of that jam sponge sandwich I made yesterday? You like that, don’t you.’ Since Grace had gone, Madeline had lost even more weight and looked almost skeletal, despite her and Mabel’s best efforts to get her to eat more.
Madeline forced herself to smile at Mrs Batley. She was trying so hard to please her, forever cooking treats to try and tempt her, but somehow everything tasted like sawdust and stuck in her throat.
Once in the day room Madeline stared sightlessly out of the window that overlooked the garden. Over the last couple of weeks, the weather had changed dramatically. There was a nip in the air and the nights were fast drawing in. Leaves had begun to drift down like confetti and only the late-flowering roses lent any colour to the garden. After a while she sighed and moved to the small escritoire in the corner. She would write to Aunt Gertie again, that would pass a little time. Time seemed to be something she had far too much of lately and it hung heavily on her like a shroud. She and Aunt Gertie had been corresponding regularly and keeping in touch via the phone. Lifting her pen, Madeline dipped it into the inkwell and tried to concentrate.
At that very moment, in a small ward in the hospital in Coleshill, Grace had just opened her eyes. They felt gritty and her head hurt as a young nun rushed to her side.
‘Ah, you’re awake.’ The nun smiled as she swiped a damp cloth across Grace’s feverish forehead. ‘How about a little drink?’ She lifted Grace’s head and carefully trickled some water between her dry, cracked lips, but within seconds Grace had vomited it up again and dropped back against the pillow, exhausted. Her whole body was covered in angry red lumps and she felt as if she was on fire.
‘How is she?’ An older nun appeared and the young one shook her head. ‘Not good, I’m afraid, sister. The fever is still raging. I don’t know how much longer her body can cope with this temperature. I’m doing all I can but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good.’
The senior nun gently squeezed the young woman’s shoulder. ‘She is in God’s hands now, my child,’ she whispered and then glided away.
The next time Grace woke she found that she was encased in a strange white light. ‘Mamma, Myfanwy,’ she croaked deliriously, and as if by magic Myfanwy was suddenly there, her huge blue eyes serene and calm.
The girl took her hand and gently kissed the hot fingers. ‘Come along now,’ she ordered in her usual bossy way. ‘I am your best friend and I order you to get better … for me.’
‘I … I’ll try,’ Grace breathed and with her friend’s hand gripped in her own she drifted off to sleep again.
When she woke it was daylight and she blinked as the weak autumn sun streaming through the windows hurt her eyes.
The young nun who had cared for her so tenderly was the first face that swam into her vision and she asked, ‘Where am I?’
‘You’re in the hospital. You’ve been very poorly indeed. But your fever has broken. For a while there you seemed to hover between life and death, but our dear Lord clearly has plans for you to stay on this earth. You’ll start to get better now.’
Grace tried to nod but it hurt to move her head or try to speak. Instead she lay quietly and felt a warm glow as she thought of Myfanwy’s visit. Her dear friend had come all that way to see her when she was ill. She was disappointed that she hadn’t been allowed to stay longer but she remembered how strict the nuns were about visitors. Myfanwy had done well to get past them if only for a short time. Eventually she raised her hand and felt her shorn head. She vaguely remembered the nuns giving her the pudding basin cut shortly after she had arrived. They said that it was necessary, for long hair sapped a person’s strength. Grace wasn’t overly concerned about it. No doubt it would grow back. This time when she fell asleep, it was a healing sleep and she determined to put all her efforts into getting well again. The sooner she was better the sooner she would go home again and see her mother. Strangely she gave no thought to her father.
Christmas that year without Grace was a sad affair. So sad that Madeline decided she didn’t even want to go to the trouble of putting up a Christmas tree. Jacob was spending Christmas in Liverpool again and Mabel would be spending Christmas with her family, so it would be just her, Mrs Batley and Harry. The news from the hospital was optimistic, however, so they all hung on to that knowledge in the hope that Grace might be back home with them soon.
‘Where do you suppose the master goes off to?’ Mabel mused as she and Harry sat enjoying a mug of cocoa late on Christmas Eve. Mrs Batley had gone to bed and it was just the two of them.
Harry bowed his head and Mabel sensed he knew more than he was letting on. ‘Come on, if you know, let me in on the secret,’ she urged. ‘It’ll go no further an’ it ain’t as if I care about him. He’s a vile man!’
‘He ain’t all bad, actually,’ Harry said in the master’s defence.
‘But how can you say that? He treats us all like dirt!’
‘Aye, happen he does,’ he admitted. ‘But when we lived in Leeds I overheard some chaps that knew him talkin’ once. They’d just got off a train an’ they paid me to carry their bags to a hotel an’ when I heard the master’s name me ears pricked up. Apparently one of ’em was a friend of his first wife.’ He paused then, as if he was unsure if he should go on.
‘And?’ Mabel urged.
Harry frowned. ‘Well, he was carted off to a boarding school at an early age by all accounts, and he rarely went home. It seems his mother had him late in life an’ he was an inconvenience. The school was a harsh place from what I could gather. The children were beaten by the masters there. Both his parents died within months of each other while he was still at school. When our master came out he used the money his parents had left him and worked his fingers to the bone to put himself through law school. An’ then he met his first wife. Seems her father never thought the master were good enough for her but she married him anyway an’ he were keen to start a family.’ He shook his head. ‘I reckon it were cos he
’d never had no family of his own before that cared about him, an’ that’s probably why he’s so possessive of Grace. His first wife lost one baby after another, I heard, an’ he started to go to these clubs in Liverpool.’
‘What clubs?’ Mabel was intrigued now.
Harry looked uncomfortable, wishing he’d never started this in the first place. ‘I ain’t sure,’ he hedged. ‘But I won’t forget that as surly as he is he saved me from the gutter.’ He longed to tell her the rest but in a strange way he felt he owed some loyalty to the man. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t disclose his feelings to Mabel and she wouldn’t want him anyway, he was sure.
Mabel felt there was more to it than what he was telling her, but she didn’t push him. ‘Hmm, well, what you’ve told me is sad,’ she admitted. ‘But I still don’t like him! He’s a mean old bugger!’
Harry didn’t know how to answer that so he turned his attention back to his cocoa.
Grace spent a lot of her time in prayer. Since recovering a little she had enjoyed joining the nuns in their services in the chapel attached to the hospital and now she was even well enough to write to her mother, Myfanwy and Aunt Gertie. She had no idea that the letters were never posted for fear of them being contagious. The young girl who had spent some weeks in the next bed to Grace with the same illness had sadly not survived and so now Grace counted herself extremely lucky. She wondered if God had spared her for a reason. She had no idea what it might be as yet but was certain she would find out in the fullness of time.
On Christmas Day the isolation hospital took on a completely different atmosphere. The nuns had placed bowls of holly here and there and helped those of the children that were well enough to make paper chains, which they strung across the ceiling. In the morning after breakfast they gave each of the children a small gift. For the boys, there were liquorice sticks and gobstoppers, for the girls there were small oranges – a rare treat – and pretty ribbons to tie in their hair. They then conducted their Christmas morning service in the ward and as Grace listened to their sweet voices, she was entranced. Many of the children were still too poorly to have much of an appetite but even so they were each served with slices of succulent goose and roast potatoes followed by Christmas pudding and warm mince pies. In the afternoon, the sisters read stories to them and served them with rich Christmas cake, and although Grace missed her mother and the staff back at home, she enjoyed every minute of it and was almost sad when the day was over.
A Mother's Grace Page 13