There’s Always Tomorrow (7 page)

Alarmed, he cried, ‘Tom!’

‘Cor, love a duck,’ said Tom as he saw her.

Lifting her half-filled bucket towards her father, she said, ‘Eat tend cakey, Daddy.’

‘Hang on a minute, sweetheart, let Daddy clean you up first.’ With the practised hand of an expert, her father put one hand on the top of her blonde head to hold her steady while he fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief. Connie sneezed and the candlestick grew longer.

Jack, who was cuddling Gary on his lap, laughed aloud. Reg shuddered with disgust.

‘Tend cakey, Daddy?’ Connie said as her face emerged from under the voluminous handkerchief.

‘I’d love to,’ said Tom, pretending to take a piece. ‘Ummm, delicious. Don’t forget your Uncle Jack and Uncle Reg.’

‘Yum, yum,’ said Jack obligingly.

Connie turned towards Reg. ‘Not for me,’ he said quickly.

Tom ruffled the child’s hair. ‘Uncle Reg is full up,’ he said. ‘But I could eat
you
up!’ He growled and, snatching her in his arms, he kissed her neck. Connie giggled happily and when he put her down again she wandered back to the area of sand which served as her kitchen.

‘Not up to sand pie, Reg?’ Tom said good-naturedly.

‘Looking after kids is woman’s work,’ Reg muttered.

‘Rubbish,’ said Tom. ‘I love being with all my kids. I’m a dab hand at changing a nappy too.’

Reg shook his paper disapprovingly and hid behind it again. Thank God Patsy was well past that stage. His lip curled at the thought of changing nappies, and as for dealing with snotty noses … You’d better keep well away from me, thought Reg sourly. But a couple of minutes later, the little brat was on her way back. Reg glanced around helplessly. The other two men were gone: Tom was doing something with Christopher and Jack was walking Gary towards the sea where the other kids were splashing about at the water’s edge.

‘Clear off,’ Reg hissed.

But Connie was on a mission. Holding out her bucket of sand, she struggled to steady herself, tottered and made a grab at his trousers. She stumbled against him and fell. At the same time, Reg noticed a wasp crawling along the sand nearby. As Connie pulled herself to her feet again, Reg glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him, and then gave Connie a good shove with his leg. She sat down heavily on top of the wasp. A few seconds later, her heart-rending screams brought the others running.

By the time the girls got back, the kids were sitting further down the beach, watching a Punch and Judy show. Billy had his arm around Connie who was sporting a large white bandage on her leg. Mary listened in horror as Tom explained about the wasp.

‘Good job the St John Ambulance people were so close,’ he said, pointing to the first aid post a little way along the beach.

‘Poor little mite,’ said Dottie. ‘Couldn’t you have stopped her?’

‘She fell,’ said Reg, re-arranging the knots in the handkerchief on the top of his head. ‘Couldn’t do a thing about it, love.’

The Punch and Judy show over, Gary was looking very listless again.

‘I think you’d better take him to see Dr Fitzgerald tomorrow, hen,’ Mary told Peaches.

Peaches nodded miserably.

‘Get Dottie to run over and fetch him when we get back,’ Reg suggested.

Dottie turned her head away. Oh God, she couldn’t possibly face Dr Fitzgerald again. Not after last Saturday night. Whatever was she going to do?

‘You’ll go and get the doc for Peaches, won’t you love?’ Reg insisted.

She turned her head and everyone was looking at her. ‘Yes, yes, of course I will.’

They arrived back in the village at six thirty. Jack dropped Reg off at the Jolly Farmer and then went on to Mary’s place. It took a while to get all her sleepy kids off the back of the lorry, but they all called out their goodbyes.

‘It’s been a wonderful day, hen,’ Mary told Peaches. ‘Now don’t you worry about your Gary. He’ll be all right.’

Jack took Dottie, Peaches and Gary home. The little boy kept whimpering as if he was in pain and Jack had to carry him indoors. As soon as they were safely inside, Dottie and Jack drove to the doctor’s.

‘You’ll wait for me?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ he smiled.

Dottie was relieved. She’d been frantic with worry. She didn’t really want to face the doctor again. Not so soon. But she couldn’t refuse a friend, could she? Not when her child was so sick.

She drew some comfort from hearing the engine still running as she walked up the garden path to the big house. Dottie rang the doorbell and waved to Jack. All at once, he drove off. She almost panicked and ran after him, crying, ‘Come back …’ but then she realised he was only turning the lorry around. She turned to face the door. The glass panel grew dark and she knew someone was coming.

It was Mrs Fitzgerald. ‘Dottie!’

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Fitzgerald,’ Dottie began, ‘but is the doctor here?’

‘He’s not on call today,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said crisply. ‘You’ll have to go to Dr Bailey over at Heene Road.’

‘Who is it?’ said a voice behind Mrs Fitzgerald.

‘It’s Dottie.’

‘It’s all right,’ said Dottie quickly. She could hear Jack’s lorry drawing up outside the gate again. ‘We’ll go to Dr Bailey.’

Dr Fitzgerald snatched opened the door and Dottie jumped. She couldn’t look at him in the eye and was immediately tongue-tied. ‘I didn’t know it was your day off … um … I wouldn’t have …’

‘Is it your Reg?’ he asked all businesslike and formal.

‘It’s little Gary Smith,’ Dottie gabbled. ‘Peaches and Jack are really worried. We thought it was just a cold and a bit of sunshine would do him good so we’ve been to the beach all day at Littlehampton. He’s been too poorly even to join in with all the other kids.’

‘I’ll get the car,’ said the doctor.

‘It’s your day off,’ Mariah reminded him.

‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ said Dottie at the same time. ‘Jack’s here. He’ll run us over to Heene Road.’

‘I’ll just get my bag,’ Dr Fitzgerald insisted.

Dottie hurried back up the path. She wanted to get into the lorry before the doctor suggested taking her as passenger in the car. Jack was leaning anxiously out of the cab. ‘He’s coming,’ she said, swinging open the door and climbing in beside him.

‘Thank God for that,’ said Jack with feeling.

Dr Fitzgerald followed them to number thirty-four where Jack and Peaches lived. It made Dottie feel uncomfortable knowing that he was right behind them. She’d have to deal with this. She had to find a way of making it clear that his advances were totally unwelcome, and then they would both know where they stood.

‘You will come in with us, won’t you, Dottie?’ said Jack as they pulled up outside.

‘Well …’ Dottie began.

‘Peaches would be glad of a friend.’

When they all got inside the house, Gary was already in bed. Dr Fitzgerald, Peaches and Jack went upstairs and while they were all gone, Dottie busied herself making some tea for when they all came down. After a few minutes, she heard Peaches cry out, ‘Oh no,
no
!’

Dottie dropped the lid of the teapot and raced upstairs, her heart pounding with fear.

Peaches was sobbing in Jack’s arms. Little Gary was lying very still on the top of his bed while Dr Fitzgerald was pulling down his pyjama top. For one awful second, Dottie feared the worst, but then she saw Gary move his arm very slightly. ‘I’ll go back home and telephone for the ambulance,’ Doctor Fitzgerald was saying.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Dottie gasped.

‘I’m going with him,’ said Peaches.

‘I’m afraid that will be impossible, Mrs Smith,’ said Dr Fitzgerald, shaking his head. ‘Not in your condition.’

‘But I’m his mother!’ Peaches wailed.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ said Dottie looking wildly from one to the other.

Dr Fitzgerald closed his bag with a loud snap. ‘I’m not one hundred percent sure,’ he said, ‘but it looks to me like poliomyelitis.’

Billy didn’t have the energy to run all the way back to Aunt Peaches. He was much too tired.

It had been a grand day. Memories of the Punch and Judy show, paddling in the water and that huge ice cream Uncle Jack had given him kept going over and over in his mind. It had been his best day ever. Even better than the day Phil Hartwell let him hold the dead frog his cat had killed.

It was late. It was already way past his bedtime when Mum came back downstairs after she’d put the twins and Susan to bed and said, ‘Run over to your Aunt Peaches and find out how Gary is.’

He’d said, ‘Aw, Mum,’ but he’d known it was no use arguing. Tom looked at him over the top of his evening paper. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to: the look was enough. Billy walked as fast as he could all the way there without stopping.

Uncle Jack’s lorry was parked outside the house and the cab door was wide open. The doctor’s car was there too. And right in front of the house, there was an ambulance as well. Billy hung back. If the adults saw him, they’d be bound to send him back home again.

‘This is no place for nippers,’ Uncle Jack would say.

The ambulance door was wide open too. Billy could see the bed and all sorts of boxes and things. He tried imagining what it was like to be an ambulance driver. It was bound to be exciting. He might see squashed people … that would be better than a squashed frog the cat killed any day. He sat down on the kerb and gripped an imaginary steering wheel.

‘Neee-arrr,’ he said as he careered around the corner at top speed to save his patient.

He heard the front door open. Dr Fitzgerald came out with his doctor’s bag and the ambulance man, dressed in his dark uniform and cap, followed him. The ambulance man was carrying someone in his arms. The someone was all wrapped up in a blanket and although Billy couldn’t actually see who it was, judging by the way he was screaming, and the fact that Aunt Peaches was right behind him crying her eyes out, he knew it had to be Gary.

Auntie Dot came out and gave Aunt Peaches a kiss on the cheek. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said. He liked Auntie Dottie a lot. She was nice.

He thought back to the time when they’d paddled in the sea together. He’d been wearing his knitted cossie. Auntie Dottie didn’t have one but she had picked up her skirts and walked into the water until it was right up to her knees. No other grown up had done that. And she hadn’t minded getting wet either. She’d kicked the water all over him and when he’d done the same to her, she didn’t get cross and yell at him. She’d splashed him back and she’d laughed. He liked to hear Auntie Dottie laugh. She didn’t do it very much but when she did, her whole face lit up. He could tell by the anxious look on her face now that she wasn’t very happy.

‘You will stay with him, won’t you?’ Aunt Peaches wailed. ‘He’ll be so frightened.’

‘I’ll stay as long as they let me,’ Auntie Dottie promised. ‘The ambulance man says they have very strict visiting hours, but I’ll be there until they kick me out.’

‘I should be there,’ cried Aunt Peaches. ‘I’m his mother.’

Auntie Dottie hugged her again. ‘You have the little one to think of. Now leave Gary to me. Until he’s back on his feet, I’ll be his mum.’

Aunt Peaches blew her nose in her hanky. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dottie.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ smiled Dottie. ‘What are friends for?’

Uncle Jack appeared behind her. ‘I’ll follow the ambulance in the lorry and bring Dottie home.’

‘Come along now, Madam,’ said the ambulance driver. ‘The sooner we get him to hospital the better.’

‘Someone ought to tell Mary,’ Dottie said as she climbed into the back of the ambulance.

Billy stood up and ran to the open door. ‘I’ll tell me mum, Auntie Dot.’ But the other ambulance man pushed him away. ‘Off you go now, sonny. This is no place for you.’

‘Tell your mum Gary is in hospital,’ Auntie Dot called to him. ‘Tell her he’s got poliomyelitis.’ The ambulance man shut the door, banged it twice and walked round to the front and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Billy watched as the ambulance raced down the road, its bell ringing like mad. He was confused. What was that she said? Polo-my-light-us? What was that?

Aunt Peaches was going back into the house.

‘What shall I say is wrong with Gary, Aunt Peaches?’

‘Gary is very ill,’ sniffed Peaches. She put her handkerchief to her mouth and closed the door. A second later, it opened again. ‘And don’t you come round again. It’s too dangerous. And tell your mum, none of your family is to come either.’

Billy stared at the closed door. Why couldn’t he go to Aunt Peaches? What had he done wrong? He turned and walked down the road scuffing his shoes and trying to work it out.

‘Hey-up, Billy. You coming on the swings?’

It was Paul Dore on his bike. He pulled up beside Billy.

‘I got to go home,’ said Billy miserably. His mum would go spare when he told her he’d upset Aunt Peaches. He’d get a walloping for sure.

‘Aw, come on,’ Paul cajoled. ‘I’ll give you a lift on me bike.’

It didn’t take much to persuade Billy to put off the moment he faced his mum. When they got to the playground, they didn’t have a swing, that was for babies, but the scrubland along the edges of the park was great for a game of Cowboys and Indians.

There was a whole crowd of them there including Mark and David Weaver. Everyone wanted to hear about his day on the beach.

‘Lucky devil,’ said David as he told them about the Punch and Judy man and his big ice cream. ‘Bags I’m John Wayne.’

‘It’s my turn,’ said Mark.

‘You did it last time,’ Billy protested.

In the end, Billy’s day out was forgotten as they had a scrap about who was going to be John Wayne and David Weaver won. Then they whooped around the bushes shooting Indians until it began to get cold and the light was failing. Paul Dore gave Billy a lift back on his handlebars as far as the road next to his and Billy, knowing that he was bound to be in trouble, walked slowly home.

‘Where the devil have you been?’ his mother demanded as she opened the door. She clipped his ear as he walked past. ‘I’ve been worried sick.’

‘Gary’s gone to hospital,’ said Billy quickly. ‘He’s got …’ He froze. He couldn’t remember what it was called. ‘And Aunt Peaches said none of us should come to her house ever again and she was so upset about it, she sent Auntie Dottie off in the ambulance with him.’

His mother put her hand to her throat. ‘Don’t tell me he’s got polio,’ she said quietly.

The isolation hospital was rather grim. It smelled of carbolic soap and disinfectant and it was dimly lit because most of the patients were asleep. Dottie followed the nurse who wheeled Gary onto the ward on an adult-sized stretcher. He looked so small and vulnerable. Wordlessly, they took him to a cot and the nurse drew the curtains around him, leaving Dottie on the outside.

‘Are you the child’s mother?’

Dottie shook her head at the doctor who had walked up behind her. ‘His mother is eight months pregnant,’ she explained. ‘Her doctor was worried about infection so he told her not to come. I’m a close friend.’ The hospital doctor said nothing. ‘Gary’s father is here,’ Dottie went on. ‘He’s parking the lorry.’

The doctor parted the curtain and went inside. Gary was whimpering.

‘If you would like to wait outside,’ said Sister, pulling little white cuffs over the rolled-up sleeves of her dark blue uniform. ‘I’ll come and speak to you later.’

Behind the curtain, Gary, obviously in pain, began to cry.

Dottie hesitated. ‘I promised his mother I’d hold his hand,’ she said anxiously.

‘We have to examine him,’ Sister said, ‘and the doctor will have to give him a lumbar puncture. It’s not very pleasant, I’m afraid, but it has to be done. We need to know what we’re up against. Now if you would like to wait outside …’

It was as much as Dottie could do to fight back the tears as she waited in the corridor for Jack to arrive. She stared hard at the green and cream tiled walls and the brown linoleum floors until she thought she knew every crack. Beyond the peeling brown door Gary’s cries grew more heart-rending. Jack hurried towards her, turning his cap around and around in his hand anxiously.

‘How is he?’

Dottie shook her head. ‘The doctor’s with him now.’

Jack sat beside her and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Oh God, oh God …’

She put her hand on his forearm. ‘Try to keep calm, Jack,’ she said gently. ‘They’re doing their best.’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ he said brokenly. ‘Oh Dottie, that boy is my life. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.’

Mercifully, at that moment they heard Gary stop crying.

‘Don’t go thinking like that, Jack. He’s a tough little lad. He’ll pull through.’

Jack leaned further forward and wept silently. Dottie placed her hand in the centre of his back and did her best to fight her own tears. After having such a lovely day, she couldn’t believe this was happening. If Reg were here, even he would be upset.

They waited for what seemed like a lifetime until the brown door opened and the ward sister came out. ‘Are you the child’s father?’

Jack rose to his feet, and wiped the end of his nose on his jacket sleeve. ‘Yes.’

‘There’s no point in beating around the bush and there’s no easy way to say this but I’m afraid your son definitely has polio.’

Jack flung his arms around himself, squeezed his eyes tightly and turned away.

‘What happens now?’ Dottie asked. It cut her to the quick to see how hurt Jack was, but Peaches would want to know every last detail.

‘It’s best if you leave him now,’ the sister said matter-of-factly. ‘Mum can visit him in a week or so.’

‘
A week or so?
’ cried Dottie.

‘We keep visits to a minimum,’ the sister continued. ‘Normally we would allow his mother to see him for twenty minutes or thereabouts, but as you say, she’s pregnant.’

‘I could take her place,’ Dottie said, ‘at least until his mum is in no danger.’

‘At this highly infectious stage,’ the sister went on, ‘it’s best for the patients to remain calm. Family visits are very unsettling for young children. They cry for hours afterwards.’

‘Can we at least see him now?’ Dottie asked. ‘I want to put his mother’s mind at rest.’

‘Is he going to die?’ Jack choked.

‘It’s always possible,’ the sister said, ‘but personally I think he’ll be more stable in a day or two.’

‘Please God,’ Jack murmured.

‘I tell you what,’ said the sister, her tone softening, ‘pop in now, just for a minute to see him settled and you,’ indicating Dottie, ‘can visit him on Monday.’

Dottie couldn’t hide her gratitude. ‘Thank you, oh thank you.’

‘But when you do come, it can only be for twenty minutes,’ the nurse cautioned. ‘No more.’

‘I understand,’ said Dottie gratefully.

They followed her back onto the ward and tiptoed to Gary’s cot. His eyes were closed and although his face wore a frown, he certainly looked more peaceful than when they’d brought him in. He was still very flushed and a young nurse was sponging his face with water.

The sister picked up the temperature chart at the foot of the bed. ‘His temperature is one hundred and four degrees fahrenheit,’ she said.

Dottie touched Gary’s fingers. ‘Night, night, darling,’ she whispered. ‘See you in the morning.’

Jack leaned over the cot and kissed his son’s forehead. ‘Night, son,’ he wept.

Gary started to cry again.

‘Come along now,’ said the sister briskly. ‘It’s best not to upset the little lad again.’