The Corner House (18 page)

While Theresa slept her way towards a hoped-for recovery, the child found herself wandering further afield with each passing day, even daring to venture into some of the wards at the opposite side of the building. Everyone was always glad to see her. As the only child in the sanatorium, she was thoroughly spoilt with fruit, chocolate and sticky sweets, most of which she ate, some of which she saved for Mam. Mam would get better soon. Mam would take Jessica home and they could start all over again in 34, Emblem Street, all cosy and warm in their own little house.

Warmth was becoming a distant memory. Jessica remembered how she had objected to the heat in the hospital, how she had declared time after time that she intended to emigrate and live with penguins. Was there no happy medium? Couldn’t a
person be just right, neither too warm nor too cold?

It was the windows that caused the trouble. Each room had three walls, then sliding windows in the fourth. These were locked in the open position before breakfast and left wide all day so that the TB germs could be blown away over the railings of the wrap-around porch and up into the hills where they could do no harm.

After a week or so of duck-feeding and sneaking round in corridors, Jessica noticed smoke rising from behind a clump of trees. Where there was smoke, there was fire and, where there was fire, there was probably a house. She stared for ages at the rising plume, watching as it climbed upward into an icy blue sky. She looked at Mam, made sure that her breathing was even and quiet, then slipped along deserted passageways towards the Shared section. Sneaking was getting easier, even though footsteps often echoed. According to those in Room Fourteen, nurses kept as far away from patients as was possible. They were scared of TB and were working here simply because the food was good and plentiful.

Mr Coates was in a good mood, as usual. ‘Me little ray of sunshine,’ he declared.

‘Sunshine?’ laughed Jessica. She was entombed in clothes, dressing gown buttoned to the throat, woollen bonnet, gloves, boots. ‘I’m freezing.’ She placed herself in a visitors’ chair. Mr Coates looked very comical, scarf tied round his head, flat cap on top of the scarf, gloved hands struggling to turn the pages of a book. ‘Is there a house in the trees?’ she asked.

‘Oh aye,’ he replied. ‘That’s the farmhouse. That’s where we all live for a while when we’re nearly ready to go home. There’s cows and hens,
even a few pigs. We get our strength back working the land. Farmer Williamson left the house and the land, you see. His wife died of consumption.’

Jessica stared hard at the old man. ‘Consumption?’

‘TB,’ he explained.

Panic hit the little girl’s chest like a hammer. ‘Will Mam die?’ she asked, her voice squeaky and high.

‘Nay, lass.’ He laid down his book and pointed to the other three men. ‘We’ve all been like your mam, love. Old Humphries there stopped breathing three times and he’s still with us.’

Old Humphries awarded the visitor a gummy smile. ‘You’d not be here if there were no hope, sweetheart,’ he wheezed. ‘They don’t put you in Willy’s unless you’ve got a good chance. The no-hopers go to Manchester. So stop fretting.’

Jessica wanted to go to the farmhouse. Inside, there would be a roaring fire with cats spread out on the hearthrug. Bread would be rising in rows of enamel bowls, and shelves would be covered in preserves bottled in syrup. ‘Will me and Mam go in the house?’ she asked.

Mr Coates scratched his chin, making a sound like sandpaper as the woollen glove caught against stubbly whiskers. ‘In time,’ he replied eventually. ‘They have to be sure that her sputum’s negative and that the X-rays look all right. From what I’ve heard, you’re not too bad, love.’

‘Oh.’ Sputum. It was horrible, really nasty. Twice a day, she was required to clear her throat and spit into a lidded mug. Often, she didn’t have any spit, so there would be nothing for the nurses to analyse. Mam got her throat poked into every morning, which unwelcome intrusion sometimes caused
retching. No wonder, thought Jessica. If some daft woman had to go rooting around with metal prongs and cotton wool, a person had the right to be sick. ‘It’ll be a long time before Mam gets well enough for the farm,’ she said sadly. ‘She’s always asleep.’

‘Come on, Jess,’ chided Mr Coates. ‘I was like that for a while. With TB, there’s no way of knowing. Folk have come in here at death’s door, then, six months later, they’ve been back at work and back with their families.’

‘Six months?’ Jessica knew that her eyes were rounded in surprise. She was just turning five. In six months, she’d be nearly five and a half. She could not hang around in this terrible place for … ‘How many weeks is six months?’ she asked.

‘Twenty-six,’ came the shocking reply.

Jessica gulped. ‘Days?’

Mr Coates did a bit of mental arithmetic. ‘A hundred and eighty-odd,’ he said.

‘I can’t stop here all that long,’ she cried. ‘It’s been ages already. I’m sick of creeping about in case anybody catches me. And Dr Blake says I’ve not got bad TB.’

‘Then you’ll go home soon.’

The child bit her lower lip. ‘Mam’s my home,’ she whispered.

‘No dad?’ asked Mr Coates.

She shook her head. ‘Not even at the war. I never had one.’

‘Grandma?’

‘No.’ Jessica inhaled deeply. ‘She’s dead and my grandad doesn’t want me. There’s an Auntie Ruth in Grandad’s house, and she doesn’t want me, too.’ She let the air out slowly, noticed that it made a little cloud in the ice-cold ward.

Jimmy Coates lowered his head. What was the world coming to? Lovely kiddy like this, no father, nobody to step in while her mother was ill.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Jessica. He looked ready to cry. She couldn’t remember seeing a man in tears.

‘Aye,’ he replied gruffly. He lifted his face and made it smile. ‘Who were that woman you were going on about?’

‘Auntie Eva? She’s not my real auntie, Mr Coates. She … she borned me in our house. She visits us sometimes when we’re at home, about once a week, I think.’

‘Do you know where she lives? The street and the number?’

Jessica nodded.

Jimmy Coates swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was wearing proper trousers, socks and a massive grey cardigan. ‘Kill us with bloody double pneumonia, they will.’ He walked across the room. ‘Give us an envelope,’ he demanded of Mr Humphries. ‘And a sheet of paper.’ If nobody else cared a toss about the future of Jessica Nolan, he, James Edward Coates, most certainly did.

Eva’s eyes limped over the address, worked their troubled way across the spidery, uneducated hand. She hadn’t been able to visit Theresa and Jessica because they were in isolation. If they could be moved into a recovery ward, visitors would be allowed. This letter was from a patient in recovery.

It was no use. Eva rattled about in a dresser drawer until she found Sam’s reading specs. Even dead, the man remained useful, since Eva’s sight was not as good as it might have been. ‘Dear Mrs Harris,’ she read.

My name is James Edward Coates and I have been stuck up here at Willie’s for going on eight month. A little lass called Jessica is here with her mam. Jess is the only kiddy in the san, so she is right fed up what with having no visitors and not much to keep her amused.

Her mother is still not taking much notice of anything because one of her lungs is very weak. There’s some treatment now that can shut down a lung to make it rest, so happen the doctors are thinking about that. We don’t know what goes on really, because nobody ever says much. They just come in with food and they do bed baths if you’re not well enough to get yourself clean, but they always wear masks except for Doc Blake. Doc Blake is often as not three parts cut, so he’s the only one who comes in bare-faced. There’s no point talking to him. He goes on about us all getting better and not worrying about anybody else, so we keep our gobs shut.

Anyroad, little Jess is a right gem and she visits us nearly every day. She’s not supposed to, so don’t go telling on her. The thing is, we can have visitors. Visiting is every afternoon from one till five for us that’s on the mend. I don’t get anybody coming to see me because my wife is dead and my son is still abroad. He’s missing believed dead.

Eva suspected that there had been a pause after that last sentence, as if the man had done a bit of grieving before continuing his letter in a different colour of ink.

The next paragraph had been written more carefully,
slightly more clearly, probably a day or so later than the rest.

I hope you don’t take offence, but I’m sure young Jess would like to see you. If you would kindly visit me in Room Fourteen (Shared), I’m sure that Jess would be delighted.

She would go to visit Mr Coates. He sounded a nice man, seemed to care about what happened to poor little Jessica Nolan. The other child, Jessica’s twin, was still ensconced in Bromley Cross with Bernard and Liz Walsh. Bernard had been looking at North Liverpool, was hoping to put Katherine into a prep school in Crosby once the war had ended. Liz wasn’t taken with the idea of moving, but Eva had pleaded with Bernard to stick to his guns. Those two girls needed separating or putting together immediately; there could be no half-measures. For Liz Walsh’s sake, for everyone’s sake, a move seemed by far the best solution.

She drained her cup and fixed her eyes on Sam’s image. ‘You’re best out of it, lad,’ she advised him. ‘This world isn’t really fit for decent folk.’ But, all the same, decent folk remained and, in a day or so, Eva would be visiting a couple of that number.

‘Eeh, you do look bonny.’ Eva clung to the sobbing child and gazed over Jessica’s head into the sad eyes of Jimmy Coates. ‘Doesn’t she look well?’ she asked the man.

‘Aye, she gets nearly as much dinner as the ducks,’ he chuckled. ‘She gives more nor half her food to
the birds. She’ll stop scriking in a minute – she never creates for long.’

Jessica buried her face in the visitor’s coat. This was the first human contact she had experienced for weeks, because pokings and proddings didn’t count. Mam had started to talk at last, but she still wasn’t well enough for playing or story-telling. Mrs Harris seemed to smell of home, too, her clothing a bit smoky, as if the scents of Bolton had soaked into the fibres.

‘Come on, lass,’ pleaded Eva. ‘If I’m upsetting you, I might just as well have stopped at home.’

Jessica raised her face. ‘Take me with you,’ she begged.

‘What? And leave your mam all on her own?’

The child dried her tears. Things had changed; she was confused and weary. Mam hadn’t been the same since she’d fallen asleep in the bedroom. It could be ages and ages before Mam got right. Jessica knew that Mam was ill, much iller than Jessica herself. Although the idea seemed treacherous, even traitorous, Jessica wanted to get out of the sanatorium, even if that meant leaving Mam behind. ‘I can’t stop here till Mam gets well,’ she said.

‘You’ve got TB and all,’ Jimmy Coates reminded the child. He heard a distant footfall. ‘Quick, Jess,’ he whispered.

Like the professional trickster she had become, the little girl dived into a cupboard. When Jimmy Coates whistled the all-clear, she opened the door and ran back to Eva. ‘Take me to your house,’ she begged.

Eva struggled with her own emotions. Determinedly, she inhaled before speaking. ‘I’ll talk to that doctor,’ she promised.

‘If he’s sober,’ muttered another occupant of the room.

‘I’ll ask if he has any idea when you’ll be better. Then, when I find a few things out, I’ll get the doctor to talk to your mam. See, we have to get you right first, love. And, like you say, you’ll happen be on the mend before Theresa is. We might be able to get you out then, when your TB’s cleared up.’

Jessica calmed down and released her hold on the visitor. Eva pulled a chair over to Jimmy’s bedside and gave him the once-over. He was a bit on the thin side, but he had roses in his cheeks. ‘You must get cold living like this.’ She jerked a thumb at the missing wall. ‘What happens if it rains?’

Jimmy grinned. ‘We put sou’westers on and borrow brollies if the wind’s in our direction. Good job old Humphries did his life-saving badge at the swimming baths. He’s had to swim us out of here a couple of times, no lifeboats, no Mae Wests.’

He was a character, Eva decided. ‘Where do you live?’

Jimmy shrugged. ‘This bed’s me only address. The house got rented out to somebody else. One of the neighbours grabbed me bits and pieces, sold the furniture for me and kept … well, papers, photos and all that. Brandon Street, it was.’

‘So what happens when you get out?’

He shrugged.

‘What’s your job?’

She asked a lot of questions, he thought. ‘I’m a time-served carpenter. I can easy get work, but not till these buggers let me out. Mind, I’m definitely on the mend.’

Eva pondered. She wasn’t one for quick decisions, but she recognized a sad man when she saw one.
Jimmy Coates made people laugh on purpose, because he was crying inside. He was a decent man with nothing to aim for, no reason to get better. ‘I’ve a spare room,’ she said casually. ‘Me husband died not long since and the house seems empty, you know.’

Jimmy swallowed painfully. ‘I know, all right.’ He couldn’t believe his ears or his luck. ‘I’m fully house-trained, clean in me habits,’ he said.

‘Get well first. While you’re getting better, think about my offer, Mr Coates.’ Had she finally gone mad? He could be a murderer or a thief. But no. Nobody with those gentle grey eyes could be bad. ‘You know my name and address.’

‘Aye.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘And I shan’t forget, neither, Mrs Harris.’

‘Eva’ll do.’

‘Right, Eva.’ He felt a million times better, was sure that he could take on the world at that moment. There was hope. There was a name, an address, a future.

Jessica’s goodbye to Mrs Harris was restrained. If she carried on weeping, nobody would want her. She had to be good, had to look cheerful and sensible.

Eva wandered the corridors of Williamson’s, redirecting herself only when a notice informed her to go no further. ‘CONTAMINATED AREA, STAFF ONLY,’ screamed the message in capitals over a door.

Eva knew in her bones that Jessica was not ill enough to warrant solitary confinement. She should not be cooped up, should not be bored stiff while sitting and waiting for Theresa to improve. The staff probably allowed the child to stay with her mam because she had already been exposed to Theresa’s germs for long enough.