All My Tomorrows (39 page)

Peggy dozed on and off through the night, wondering why Doris steadfastly refused to leave Beach View when it must be clear to her that she wasn’t welcome. She knew that her eldest sister could be stubborn to the point of pig-headedness, but she’d thought she had more pride than to stay where she wasn’t wanted. It would be tricky facing her, Peggy realised – and it would require every ounce of tact she possessed to make her see it was time for her to leave. If that didn’t work, then she’d pack her bags herself and dump them and her damned sister on the doorstep.

Feeling slightly mollified by this flare of temper, she’d fallen into a fitful doze and had been woken up by the rattle of the tea trolley. The morning progressed as it always did with lumpy porridge for breakfast, followed by temperatures being taken, bed baths, pills and cups of bland tea. Peggy could feel her pulse begin to pick up speed as lunch was cleared away and the time drew nearer for her escape.

It was ten minutes to visiting time when Matron came through the swing doors to do her inspection. She marched from bed to bed, checking the charts and the hospital corners on the sheets and blankets, and harrying the nurses over a wrinkled pillowcase or a forgotten teacup.

She arrived at Peggy’s bed and glared at her. ‘You look flushed, Mrs Reilly,’ she said as she reached for the chart. ‘It seems you have a temperature. Bed rest for another two days,’ she ordered the nurse hovering behind her before she marched to the next patient and told her off for leaving her knitting on top of the bedside cupboard.

Peggy caught Fran’s eye and resisted winking at her. They both knew there would be no bed rest – not in this hospital, anyway.

Once Matron had left the ward, Fran hurried over. ‘I’m off duty now,’ she whispered, ‘and Suzy is already at home, but would you like me to stay and help you escape?’

‘No,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘I want you and Suzy well away from here so you don’t get the blame.’

Fran’s expression was troubled. ‘Are you sure about this, Peggy? Only it was a big operation, and you’re not really . . .’

‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’ she said firmly. ‘Stop fretting, Fran, dear, and take the last of my things out of the bedside cupboard, go home and put the kettle on. I could do with a really good, strong cup of tea after two weeks of dishwater.’

Fran still didn’t look convinced, but Peggy’s determined expression brooked no argument and she quickly emptied the bedside cabinet before hurrying off the ward.

Peggy lay back against the pillows, her gaze flitting between the clock and the swing doors. She could have done with a cigarette and no mistake, but they were in the handbag Fran had taken home.

The doors were opened on the dot of two, and amongst the visitors she could see Ron and Jane. ‘Where’s Cordelia?’ Peggy asked as they reached her bed.

‘Ach, to be sure, she has her own plan to distract the enemy, so Jane offered to come and help.’ He grinned back at her, his eyebrows wriggling like two hairy caterpillars. ‘Are ye ready for this, Peg?’

‘You bet I am,’ she breathed. She pulled back the sheet and blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘I need to use the bathroom,’ she said, loudly enough to be heard by one of the nearby nurses. ‘Jane, dear, would you help me?’

Jane played her part beautifully, helping her on with her dressing gown and slippers and fetching the spare wheelchair that always stood at the end of the ward. ‘Where are your clothes, Auntie Peg?’ she whispered.

‘Fran put everything in her locker,’ she whispered back. ‘I’ve got the key in my pocket.’ She looked up at Ron. ‘Stay here for five minutes and then wander out as if you’re going for a cup of tea. We’ll meet you by the lift.’

It was all very cloak and dagger, and Peggy was feeling quite excited as Jane wheeled her down the ward and informed the nurse on duty that she was taking Peggy to the bathroom before they went to the dayroom for a cup of tea. Then they were out of the doors and heading for the deserted nurses’ cloakroom. ‘Hurry up, Jane, before someone comes,’ Peggy urged as she gave her the locker key.

Within minutes they were on their way again, the bag of clothes firmly held on Peggy’s lap. Jane wheeled her into the bathroom. ‘Do you want me to help you get dressed?’

Peggy shook her head. ‘I can manage, dear. Go outside and keep watch. If you see Matron, tap on the door twice and I’ll know to stay in here until she’s gone.’

‘I say,’ said Jane with a grin. ‘It’s all frightfully good fun, isn’t it?’

‘Not if we get caught,’ muttered Peggy as she dragged off the dressing gown.

Jane took the hint and left the bathroom, and Peggy locked the door. It was a bit of a struggle to get into her clothes and they felt strange after being in her nightdress for so long. She was quite hot and sweaty by the time she’d pulled on her coat and headscarf. With her nightclothes tucked into the shopping bag along with her slippers, she unlocked the door.

‘All clear,’ whispered Jane, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the subterfuge. ‘Ron’s waiting by the lift.’

‘Has Alf parked the van close to the front door?’ asked Peggy anxiously as Jane wheeled her down the long corridor. ‘Only I don’t think I’ll be able to walk too far.’

‘He’s parked it off to one side and has the engine running so that the minute he sees us, he can pull up at the steps,’ replied Jane in a hoarse whisper.

Ron had wedged himself in the lift doorway so it couldn’t go anywhere until he was ready. ‘Hurry up,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve just seen one of the senior nurses off your ward, and she was asking where you’d got to. I told her you were in the dayroom, but that won’t keep her away for much longer.’

Jane quickly pushed the wheelchair into the lift and Ron removed his foot, closed the door and drew the metal gate shut before stabbing the button for the ground floor.

Peggy’s pulse was racing and she could feel the sweat running down her back as the ancient lift rattled and jolted its way down. The next bit would be the hardest, for they would have to pass right by Matron’s office door and then through the busy reception hall. ‘I hope to goodness Cordelia has a proper plan,’ she muttered. ‘If Matron catches us, we’ll all be for the high jump.’

The lift shuddered to a halt and Ron glanced down the hall to where Cordelia was standing outside Matron’s door.

At his signal, she rapped on the door with her walking stick. ‘I wish to make a complaint,’ she said stridently. ‘Open this door at once.’

Ron, Peggy and Jane peeked round the lift doors as Ron kept them jammed open, and watched wide-eyed as Cordelia continued to beat on Matron’s door. It opened, and Cordelia took full advantage of a surprise attack. ‘About time,’ she snapped, prodding her walking stick at the startled matron as she marched into her room and slammed the door shut.

With Matron firmly imprisoned in her room, Jane quickly wheeled Peggy along the corridor and into the echoing reception hall where the milling crowds shielded their hurried departure.

Ron went on ahead and signalled to Alf, who screeched the van to a halt at the bottom of the steps. Jane grabbed the bag from Peggy’s lap and Ron lifted her out of the wheelchair and dumped her unceremoniously into the passenger seat before clambering into the back of the van with Jane and slamming the doors shut. Alf put his foot down on the accelerator and they shot out of the hospital forecourt as if the demons of hell were snapping at their heels.

Peggy began to laugh as they reached the end of Camden Road. ‘I never realised Cordelia could shout that loudly, or look quite so fierce,’ she gasped. ‘Poor Matron. I almost feel sorry for her.’

Ron chuckled from the back of the van. ‘To be sure, the wee woman is a fine actress at heart. She’s missed her calling, so she has.’

‘What complaint was she making?’ Peggy asked. ‘After all, she isn’t even a patient at the hospital.’

‘She decided a touch of dottiness was called for. Having mistaken the hospital for the Grand Hotel, she was incensed that no one seemed to have prepared her room, or could show her where it was. As far as she was concerned, Matron was the manager, and she was determined to read her the riot act.’

By now Peggy had got the giggles, and when she saw the grim look on Alf’s face as he parked outside Beach View, she was almost in tears with it and had to hold her stomach. ‘Do cheer up, Alf,’ she managed to splutter. ‘You’ve done your good deed for the day and should be pleased it went so well.’

‘This is the last time I help you, Peggy Reilly,’ he grumbled. ‘Lil’s bound to badger me with questions for the rest of the day. I were supposed to take her to her mother’s this afternoon.’

Peggy dried her eyes and tried to control the giggles which still bubbled away inside her. ‘Just tell her the truth for once, Alf. She’ll understand. Really she will.’

Any further conversation was halted by the sight of the front door opening. Harvey galloped down the steps, swiftly followed by Fran, Suzy and Rita. He planted his big paws on the van door, stuck his head through the open window and barked his welcome before trying to scrabble inside to lick Peggy’s face.

‘Get that flamin’ dog outta there before ’e damages me paintwork,’ shouted Alf.

Peggy tried pushing Harvey away, but the more she pushed the harder he scrambled to get to her. ‘Ron!’ she called frantically. ‘Come and help me.’

Ron grabbed Harvey’s collar just as Alf stormed round the van to inspect the damage to his door. ‘Come on, you eejit dog,’ Ron rumbled. ‘Let Peggy alone.’

Fran and Suzy rushed to help Peggy out of the van and up the steps while Jane carried her things and Rita took charge of Harvey so Ron could try and appease an enraged Alf about the scratches on his door before they had to set off to rescue Cordelia.

Peggy felt very guilty about the damage to Alf’s van and sincerely hoped that one of Ron’s many friends could repair it, for the poor man didn’t deserve such ill-treatment after he’d been so kind.

She was feeling decidedly wobbly on her feet as she reached the hall and had to lean quite heavily on Fran’s arm as she made her way into the kitchen. With barely a glance at the po-faced Doris, she sank into her chair by the range, closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh of relief. ‘Home at last,’ she breathed. ‘You have no idea how good that feels.’

‘I suppose you think you’ve been very clever,’ said Doris coldly. ‘But I regard the whole nefarious escapade as irresponsible and selfish.’

‘You’re welcome to your opinion,’ said Peggy as she took a well-earned cup of tea from a smiling Suzy. ‘I’m just thankful to be home.’ She spotted the empty playpen in the corner. ‘Where’s Daisy?’

‘She’s having an airing in the back garden,’ said Doris.

‘Good grief,’ Peggy sighed, ‘you make her sound as if she’s a piece of laundry. Go and get her, Rita. It’s been too long since I had a cuddle.’

‘She’s asleep and isn’t due to wake for another fifty-eight minutes,’ said Doris as she blocked Rita’s exit. ‘We have got into a strict routine, and—’

‘I’m very grateful, Doris, but she’s my baby, and if I want to cuddle her, then I’m sure she won’t mind.’

‘Selfish, that’s what you are,’ snapped Doris. ‘You have no thought for the poor nurses who will get it in the neck because of your cavalier behaviour, and neither do you give a thought to how a disturbed afternoon sleep will affect your daughter.’

Peggy looked at her, her expression stony. ‘I have written a letter to Matron so no one gets into trouble, and Ron will deliver it to the receptionist when he collects Cordelia.’ She glanced across at Rita. ‘Go and fetch Daisy, love,’ she said quietly.

Doris lit a cigarette and snorted smoke from her nose like an angry dragon. ‘After everything I’ve done for you, I would have expected at least a modicum of gratitude and respect.’

Peggy held her arms out for Daisy, who was warm and sleepy. ‘My precious girl,’ she murmured as she softly caressed the rounded, sweet cheeks and marvelled at the long, dark eyelashes that fanned across them as her baby slept. ‘Mummy’s home now and she promises never to leave you again – not ever.’

Doris made a rude noise in her throat and Peggy glared at her before turning to the others. ‘Thanks for all your help and support, girls,’ she said. ‘Now, I’m sure you have lots of interesting things to do with the rest of your day, so run along – and I’ll see you at teatime.’

Silence fell once their footsteps had faded away and Peggy looked from her sleeping baby to the woman who sat so stiffly opposite her. ‘I am neither selfish, nor ungrateful,’ she said calmly, ‘and I truly appreciate how well you’ve looked after Daisy for me these past two weeks.’

Doris dipped her chin in a rather grand gesture of acceptance.

‘I also appreciate what a sacrifice it must have been to move in here when I know how you’ve always hated Beach View and everything it stands for. I’m sure you’ve missed your lovely home in Havelock Gardens, and that Ted and Anthony will be only too pleased to have you home again. Please don’t think I’ll be offended if you want to leave straight away. I’ll quite understand.’

‘I have no intention of leaving until I am sure you are well enough to cope on your own,’ said Doris stiffly. ‘I have moved my things into Cissy’s room.’

‘But I’m not on my own,’ Peggy replied firmly, ‘and you have done far more than I could ever have expected. It’s time for you to leave, Doris.’

She watched her sister’s face, becoming alarmed at the way the muscles were working beneath the perfect make-up as she chewed her lip and rapidly blinked away the tears. ‘Doris? Whatever’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ she said hoarsely as she stubbed out her cigarette and battled to keep her dignity.

‘Then why are you crying?’

‘I’m not,’ she protested, dabbing her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘It’s just a touch of hay fever making my eyes sting.’

Peggy struggled out of her chair and carefully carried Daisy over to the playpen and placed her on the thin mattress. She felt a twinge of pain, but ignored it as Harvey settled by the playpen. She closed the kitchen door, then turned back to her clearly distressed sister. ‘You’ve never suffered from hay fever in your life,’ she said softly. ‘What is it, Doris?’