A Broken Family (7 page)

With a flurry of activity Phyllis flung her coat on, and this was followed by Stan getting a swift kiss on the cheek. ‘Let’s hope Mabel’s got it wrong then,’ she said. ‘See you in a couple of hours or so.’

After a few minutes Stan checked his pockets. It wasn’t payday until tomorrow, but he had just enough money left for a couple of pints. He sorted out the fire, put the guard around it and then he was on his way out, taking his usual route to the pub.

At the bottom of the Rise, had Stan turned in the other direction, he would have seen his daughter still wrapped in Tommy’s arms.

Phyllis had been keeping up an act to hide her tiredness and when she’d left for work she hadn’t seen her daughter either. She was just relieved that she was out of sight of anyone now and her steps slowed. The thought of the cleaning waiting for her at the factory was almost more than she could bear, and when her shift finished she still had Winnie to sort out. As her steps faltered, Phyllis wondered again what was wrong with her. She didn’t feel ill and wasn’t in any pain. It was just so hard to stay awake and on her feet.

‘Watcha, Phyllis, long time no see. You’d think we lived miles apart instead of a few streets.’

The voice startled her, but she recognised it, thinking that it was as though talking about her cousin had conjured her up. ‘Rose,’ she said, her voice clipped. ‘I can’t stop to chat. I’m on my way to work.’

‘Yeah, me too. My stint behind the bar starts at seven.’

‘Then like me, you’d best get a move on,’ Phyllis said, not waiting for a reply as she hurried past Rose. As children they had played together and attended the same school. They’d been bridesmaids at each other’s weddings, but in those days Rose had been a nice woman. She was far from that now though, yet when the gossip had first started Phyllis had tried to warn her cousin that she was ruining her reputation. She’d told Rose that losing her husband during the war was no excuse for her behaviour. Other women had suffered the same loss, but they still remained respectable.

Rose refused to listen, and the final straw had been when she had an affair with a married man. Of course it gave credence to the local gossip that she’d go after anything in trousers, and if Mabel was right, Rose was at it again. Ashamed to be associated with her, Phyllis wanted to avoid her cousin like the plague.

Phyllis’s thoughts about Rose abruptly ended when she arrived at the factory, the other cleaner, Joyce Brewster, turning up at the same time from the other direction. The walk, though not long, had exhausted Phyllis and it was as much as she could do to carry on through the yard to the entrance. ‘I … I’m just going to the toilets,’ she tiredly told Joyce once inside, ‘and as I’ll be in there, I might as well make a start on them.’

‘Yeah, all right,’ Joyce agreed. ‘I’ll do the manager’s office before we both have a go at the factory floor.’

Phyllis just nodded, but no sooner had she gone into the toilets than her head began to swim. With nowhere else to sit she managed to open a cubicle door and with the lid down she sat on the toilet, leaning forward until the dizziness passed. Tears filled her eyes. What was wrong with her?

‘Phyllis, are you all right?’

She looked up at Joyce and found herself blurting out, ‘I … I’m so tired.’

‘If you ask me, you should get yourself to the doctor’s.’

Phyllis nodded. Perhaps Joyce was right, maybe she should get herself checked out. She stood up and swayed, grateful that Joyce squeezed into the small space to give her a hand. ‘Thanks. I … I’ll be fine in a minute, and then I’ll get on with the cleaning.’

‘I think you should go home,’ Joyce advised.

‘No, I can’t afford to do that. I’m already skint, but at least it’s payday tomorrow.’

‘I’ll cover for you. Go home, have an early night, and if you still feel rough tomorrow, get yourself to the doctors.’

‘I can’t leave you to clean this place on your own.’

‘I’ll manage, skimp on a few things, and with any luck nobody will notice.’

‘Thanks, Joyce,’ Phyllis said gratefully as she doubted she could even pick up a broom at the moment.

‘You’d do the same for me,’ Joyce said brusquely. ‘Now off you go.’

With a small, weak smile, Phyllis left, but found that the short walk home felt more like miles.

At last she arrived to find the house in darkness. Amy was out with Tommy, and no doubt Stan was at the pub. She took off her coat, sat beside the banked-up fire and closed her eyes. Winnie wouldn’t need sorting out for a couple of hours so she could have a little nap.

The warmth of the fire was comforting, and in minutes Phyllis was asleep.

At nine o’clock, after just walking along, with no particular destination in mind, talking, and stopping for the occasional kiss and cuddle, Amy could see that Tommy was tired. She insisted that they make their way back home and outside her door, as she kissed Tommy goodnight, he asked, ‘Can I see you again tomorrow night?’

She smiled happily as she looked up at him. ‘Of course you can.’

They kissed again, and then with one last hug, Tommy left her to walk up the Rise. Amy watched him for a moment, then went indoors to find her dad out and her mum asleep in a chair.

After her cleaning job and then getting Winnie to bed, her mum wasn’t usually home much before ten. Puzzled, Amy gently nudged her arm, but there was no response.

‘Mum, Mum,’ she urged.

‘Wh … what?’ she muttered as her eyes fluttered open.

‘Are you all right?’

Her mother blinked, shook her head and then sat up, looking up at Amy to ask, ‘What’s the time?’

‘It’s nine fifteen. Did you finish work early?’ Amy asked.

‘Err … err … yes,’ she said, rubbing her eyes and then lowering them as though to gather her thoughts before continuing. ‘Joyce was in a hurry to get home so we skimped a bit. I was back about half an hour ago and must have dozed off for a while. I’d best pop round to Winnie’s and get her to bed.’

Since she’d fainted on Monday her mum said she was fine, but looking at the dark circles under her eyes, Amy wasn’t so sure. She had done all she could to help her mum, taking on the ironing and a few other tasks, along with washing up after dinner every night, yet looking at her now it didn’t seem to have helped. ‘I could give you a hand with Winnie,’ she offered.

As her mother stood up she said, ‘There’s no need. I won’t be long.’

Amy tried again, but her mother still refused to let her help. It was too early for bed, so Amy sat down, her thoughts turning to Tommy. It had been wonderful to see him and she had almost melted in his arms.

Moments later the door suddenly flew open and her mother cried frantically, ‘Amy, Amy, run down to the telephone box and ring for an ambulance.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘It’s Winnie. She’s sitting in her chair and I can’t wake her up. I … I think she might be dead!’

‘Dead!’

‘Get a move on in case I’m wrong! I’m going to fetch Mabel.’

Amy ran then, as fast as she could, hoping that by the time the ambulance arrived it wouldn’t be too late.

When the ambulance turned the corner, its loud bell piercing the air, it proved that Mabel wasn’t the only nosey person on Lark Rise. A lot of people came outside to see what was going on. Of course it was mostly curiosity, mainly women who soon formed into small groups, talking in low voices while their eyes took in the comings and goings at Winnie’s house.

‘Look at that nosey lot,’ Mabel commented as they hurried outside. ‘They can’t wait to find out what’s going on.’

If it hadn’t been such a tragic and traumatic event, Phyllis might have laughed at the irony. Mabel was worse than any of them, but her words proved to be correct when Daphne Cole hurried up to them. ‘What’s going on? Is Winnie all right?’

Neither had time to answer because the ambulance men had left the vehicle, and Phyllis urged them inside, unaware that Mabel firmly closed the door behind them, leaving Daphne hovering outside.

Amy was still inside, pale faced and Phyllis now wished that she’d kept her daughter away. She stood beside her while the ambulance men quickly checked Winnie, expecting them to confirm what she and Mabel already knew.

Instead, one of them said, ‘I think I can feel a weak pulse.’

‘Right, let’s get her into the ambulance,’ the other one said, before turning swiftly from Winnie to ask, ‘Are you relatives?’

‘No, we’re just neighbours,’ Phyllis said, finding her voice. ‘I … I’ve been looking after Win … Mrs … Mrs Morrison.’

‘Has she got any relatives?’ he asked as they managed to lower Winnie onto a stretcher.

‘Yes, a daughter, but she lives in Devon.’

‘Right then, you’ll need to come with us. Once we get Mrs Morrison to hospital, they might need to know a bit about her medical history.’

‘I don’t think I can tell them much, but I still want to come,’ Phyllis said. Winnie was still alive and she didn’t want to leave her.

Moments later she was following the ambulance men outside again, but not before saying, ‘Amy, tell your dad what’s happened. I’ll see you when I get back. Thanks for your help, Mabel.’

With that Phyllis climbed into the ambulance, inwardly praying that Winnie was going to be all right. Guilt swamped her. She’d noticed that Winnie had been quieter than usual that day, her food hardly touched, but she had been so tired herself she hadn’t made a fuss when Winnie said she was fine.

Now it looked like Winnie was at death’s door, and Phyllis feared it was her fault.

Amy left Winnie’s house with Mabel and locked the door. She saw Carol with her mother and they rushed up to her. Mrs Povis though just huffed and hurried into her own house, for once seeming to relish keeping what she knew to herself.

‘Amy, is Winnie all right?’ Daphne asked.

‘My … my mum said she … died.’

‘Oh, poor Winnie, but come on, you’re shivering. Let’s get you home,’ Daphne said.

Amy found herself ushered into her own house, and urged onto a chair while Daphne said gently, ‘No wonder you look so pale. It’s never easy to see anyone who has passed away.’

‘No … no … Mum was wrong. Mrs Morrison’s alive. The ambulance men found a weak pulse.’

‘Did they? Well, that’s good news,’ Daphne said.

‘You still look a bit shaky though, Amy,’ said Carol.

‘I … I’ll be all right. It was just a bit of a shock seeing her like that, and well … I … I really thought she was dead.’

The door opened and Daphne said, ‘Here’s your dad now.’

‘What’s going on?’ Stan said, looking worried as he surveyed the scene.

‘Winnie has been taken ill, but we’ll leave Amy to tell you all about it,’ Daphne said. ‘Come on, Carol.’

‘Bye, Amy,’ Carol said, giving her a hug. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Yes, all right,’ Amy said, and with her dad waiting expectantly, she told him all that had happened.

He listened, then said, ‘If Winnie was that bad, I can’t see her making it.’

‘Oh, Dad, don’t say that.’

‘Facts are facts. What hospital did they take her to?’

‘I don’t know. It all happened so quickly and I didn’t think to ask.’

‘Whichever one it is, let’s hope your mum isn’t there half the night.’

Amy hoped so too, but by midnight there was still no sign of her mum. ‘I wonder why she isn’t home yet,’ she said, stifling a yawn.

‘Go to bed, love,’ her dad said. ‘I’ll wait up for your mum.’

There was a knock on the door and Amy jumped up to answer it. ‘Mum!’ she exclaimed as her mother staggered in, looking exhausted and close to tears. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I was flippin’ stranded and I’m worn out,’ she said, heading for the fire and flopping onto a chair.

‘What do you mean? How did you get stranded?’ Stan asked.

‘I didn’t have any money for the fare home so I had to walk.’

‘Oh Mum, I should have realised that you hadn’t taken your purse,’ Amy cried, appalled that it hadn’t even crossed her mind.

‘It wouldn’t have made any difference if you had. There’s nothing in it,’ she said bitterly.

There was a moment of silence, but then Stan said, ‘You should have told someone at the hospital, one of the nurses or something. They might have been able to sort something out.’

‘I was in too much of a state to think. I sat around for ages, but then they came to tell me that Winnie had passed away soon after we got there. I was then bombarded with questions. They wanted information about her next of kin too, and all I could tell them was her daughter’s married name and that she lived in Devon, Tiverton I think. After that, all I wanted was to get out of there and come home.’

‘Oh, Mum, you must be really upset,’ Amy said.

‘Yes, I am, but make me a hot drink, love, cocoa if there’s any left, and then we should all go to bed. I’ve got to be up at five in the morning.’

Amy went through to the kitchen, wishing as always that her mum didn’t have to get up so early to go out cleaning. She had said that her purse was empty, but her dad, as always, had enough money in his pocket to go to the pub. She made the drink, took it to the living room, tight lipped
with indignation on her mother’s behalf as she found herself
blurting out, ‘Here you are, Mum. It isn’t right that you had to walk all that way, not when some people have got money for booze.’

There was a moment’s silence and then her dad asked, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Amy couldn’t believe she’d spoken out like that, and hastily kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Mum,’ she said, her dad’s question unanswered as she turned on her heels and hurried upstairs.

They were quiet for a minute or two after Amy left the room, but then Stan said, ‘I don’t know what’s come over Amy, but I suppose that was aimed at me.’

Phyllis’s reply was clipped. ‘She shouldn’t have said that, but if the cap fits, wear it.’

‘Now listen here, I give you a fair whack of my wages.’

Phyllis gulped down her cocoa and then rose to her feet, only saying, ‘Not now, Stan. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.’

With that she went upstairs, and confused, Stan locked up before following her. He found Phyllis already in bed, the room so cold that he quickly threw off his clothes to climb in beside her, and said, ‘I don’t know why you’re being funny with me. How was I supposed to know that you didn’t have the fare home?’