The Rainbow Years (45 page)
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
He stared at her and then blurted, ‘Give me another chance.’
‘What?’
‘I’m begging you, Amy. Give me another chance. I’ve been in hell since you left me. The number of times I’ve thought of ending it all but I haven’t even got the courage for that. I’ll do anything you want, I swear it, but just come back to me.’
She took a step backwards at the same time as the air raid sirens in the town began their ominous whine, but neither of them commented on the warning. ‘There’s no question of that, Charles. I thought you knew that.’
‘It’s because of him, isn’t it? This pilot Perce said you were with.’
Charles was ill. Whether it was the drink or something else Amy didn’t know, but she could see he was ill. ‘If I had never met Nick I’d still be asking you for a divorce.’
Her calmness deflated him. He nodded, his voice more controlled when he said, ‘I had to ask. Just in case . . . But of course. I understand. After what happened, how could you ever forgive me?’
She knew he wanted her to say that she had forgiven him. The plea was there in his eyes. But she couldn’t. They stared at each other, the familiar smell of the drawing room - a mixture of beeswax and leather chairs and thick carpet - bringing a host of memories to Amy’s mind. Painful memories. Memories she could have done without.
She opened her mouth to suggest they got started on the details of the divorce when they heard what sounded like an aircraft rapidly losing height with a terrible whining, screaming noise. As the sound became ear-deafening, she was aware of Charles throwing himself over her and then the room exploding around them. And then . . . nothing.
She became aware of sounds first. Clinking and voices but muffled and far away, and then the sound of a child laughing but this was cut off abruptly, as though someone had put a hand over its mouth. She wanted to open her eyes but it was too much effort and so she remained quite still, just listening.
When she next surfaced she sensed things were different. It was quiet for one thing, and whereas before a kind of orange light had beaten against her closed eyelids, now a restful darkness covered them. She felt tired, very tired, but not so tired she couldn’t open her eyes in spite of the ache in her head and the pain all over her body.
Slowly she turned her head on the pillow and immediately there was a movement and then Nick was bending over her, his voice soft as he said, ‘You’re awake, that’s good. Everything’s all right, darling, and I’m here. Don’t worry about a thing.’
She wanted to ask if he was real or if she was imagining him, because he was in France, wasn’t he? And he had to come home through Spain. But she mustn’t tell anyone about that because it was secret. This wasn’t Spain. Where was she? She would ask him. But instead she closed her eyes again and went to sleep.
The next time she opened her eyes she found her mind was clearer. The room was still shaded in darkness but when she turned her head and looked at the man slumped in the chair at the side of the bed she knew Nick was real. She watched him sleeping and as she did so she became aware of the drips and wires all around her. She was in hospital? Why was she in hospital? And then she remembered. She had been with Charles and there was a bomb.Was it a bomb? There had been a noise anyway. Oh, her head hurt. She screwed up her eyes against the pain and when she opened them again Nick’s green gaze was just above her. ‘You’re safe, darling,’ he murmured. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered back.
‘I love you, my sweet. Forgive me for being such a fool. Bruce has told me everything. Everything. And it makes no difference. I want to marry you just as soon as you’re free. There can never be anyone but you for me, I knew that as soon as I saw you. It was as sudden as that.’
She wanted to tell him she loved him too but she couldn’t keep her eyes open a moment longer.
The clatter of a trolley and a cheerful voice saying, ‘Are we ready to wake up yet, Miss Shawe?’ brought Amy’s eyes open to a room filled with bright sunlight. ‘That’s right.’ The nurse was middle-aged and brisk. ‘Just thought you might like to freshen up and then we’ll see if you can manage a cup of tea. No, no.’ As Amy went to try and sit up, the nurse was at her side, pressing her gently into the bed. ‘You lie still for now, dear. Don’t want to rush things, do we? Nurse Burns and I will do all the work and then once you’re comfortable we’ll see about sitting you up.’
Amy glanced about her and saw the drips had gone. She vaguely recalled a nurse talking to her in the night and then a bit of coming and going, and now she said, ‘Nick? Has he gone?’
‘Your young man? Oh, hours since, once he knew you were all right. He’ll be back tonight at visiting time and Matron says you can be moved to a main ward, so that’s nice, isn’t it?’
‘How long have I been here?’
‘A good few days, dear, but the doctor will explain everything shortly.’
Amy let them wash her without protest, she felt too exhausted to mind. When they had finished and the bed was changed and she was in a clean nightie, the two nurses plumped up the pillows and then carefully eased her into a semi-sitting position. She felt giddy and sick for a few moments and this, more than anything, brought home how ill she was. She wanted to ask lots of questions but after having a few sips of the tea she went to sleep again.
The doctor turned out to be a middle-aged man with one of the kindest faces Amy had seen. He was already seated by the bed when he woke her up by gently touching her shoulder, and when she opened her eyes he said quietly, ‘It’s nice to see you back in the land of the living. Mr Callendar was pleased when we told him the news.’
‘Charles? Is he all right?’
The doctor didn’t answer this directly. What he did say was, ‘You have been very poorly since you were admitted ten days ago but that’s to be expected. Can you remember anything of what happened?’
‘A loud noise.’ Why hadn’t he answered her question about Charles?
‘The loud noise was a German plane which unfortunately took Mr Callendar’s roof off when it chose to crash in his garden. I understand pieces of wreckage, maps and equipment were spread over most of Ryhope, along with a number of bombs which happily failed to detonate.The bomber crew did not survive the crash.’
Amy stared at him. ‘I was only supposed to be on a forty-eight-hour leave.’
The doctor smiled. ‘I think your CO will appreciate you haven’t gone AWOL, Miss Shawe.’
‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘The main problem as far as we have been concerned was severe concussion, but you also have a broken leg, fractured ribs and bruising and lacerations.’
‘And Charles?’
‘Mr Callendar’s injuries are more critical. There is no easy way to dress this up, I’m afraid. His back has been crushed. Having said that, he has actually been lucid since he was brought into the infirmary. He . . .’The doctor gave a polite cough and appeared slightly embarrassed. ‘He has informed me of your circumstances and that you have been separated for some years.’
‘Yes, we have.’ She was feeling very tired, she couldn’t believe how tired.
The doctor must have realised this because he stood up. His voice low, he said, ‘Rest now. You must resign yourself to getting plenty of rest over the next weeks. We’ll talk again later.’
‘Can I see Charles?’ Amy roused herself to ask.
‘At some point, of course.’
‘Today?’
‘Miss Shawe, I don’t think you realise how serious your condition has been. It really wouldn’t do to rush things at this stage.’
She was becoming increasingly agitated inside as she fought the exhaustion blanketing her body and mind enough to say, ‘I want to see him,
please.
I have to see him. He . . . he saved me. He threw himself over me just before the crash happened.’
please.
I have to see him. He . . . he saved me. He threw himself over me just before the crash happened.’
‘Now, now, don’t distress yourself.’
‘Please, I have to see him.’ She had to make things right. Charles wasn’t a bad man, just a weak one, and they had loved each other once, before it had all gone so terribly wrong. She couldn’t let him lie there thinking she hadn’t forgiven him. What if he died before she could tell him?
The doctor shook his head. ‘This is most irregular and not what I would advise, but perhaps if you are well enough we’ll see about wheeling you into his ward for just a moment or two. We shall be moving you onto a main ward later today, perhaps a slight detour then wouldn’t be out of the question. Now, do rest, Miss Shawe.’
Amy was asleep before he had walked out of the door.
It felt very strange to think she had lost ten days of her life through the concussion, and she still felt so groggy she knew she had to submit to being confined to bed, with all the embarrassing procedures that involved. Later that day, though, when the doctor himself wheeled her into Charles’s small side ward which held four occupants, Amy knew she had got off lightly. A severe-looking sister was sitting at a table near the door, and the curtains were drawn round two of the beds. The patients in the other two - one of whom was Charles - had the appearance of corpses.
Charles had his eyes closed but when Dr Shelton said, ‘I have a visitor to see you, Mr Callendar,’ in an over-hearty voice, the transparent eyelids rose and there was immediate recognition in the dark eyes.
‘Hello, Charles.’ As the doctor positioned the wheelchair at the head of the bed, Amy reached out and took one of the thin, limp hands lying on the white coverlet. ‘I’m being moved to a big ward and I asked if I could see you en route,’ she said awkwardly, aware of the doctor behind her. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better.’ It was a hoarse whisper. ‘Now I know you are going to be all right.’
She had thought he looked ill ten days ago but now he was truly nothing but skin and bone. Something stirred in her, and to combat the sudden pricking of tears, she said brightly, ‘You’re going to be all right too, I’m sure of it.’
There was a glimmer of a smile. ‘My determined Amy. I dare not be anything else now, dare I?’
‘Absolutely.’
He shut his eyes again and she could see the sweat on his brow and knew he must be in a great deal of pain, but she had to say it. She leaned forward, squeezing the motionless fingers in hers as she said, ‘Thank you for what you did at the house. I wouldn’t be here but for you.’
His eyes opened again. ‘Nonsense,’ he muttered faintly.
‘It’s true. One of the nurses told me the reporter who described what happened said just that in his article in the
Echo
.’
Echo
.’
‘What does he know?’ Again the colourless lips tried to smile.
‘I mean it, Charles. You saved me.’
At this his head moved agitatedly on the pillow and Amy felt the doctor stir behind her. ‘Never can make up for what I did,’ Charles said, ‘but want you to go on.You’re young and so beautiful, want you to be happy . . .’
His breathing was coming with great effort now and the doctor’s voice was soothing when he said, ‘Your visitor will be back soon, Mr Callendar, but for now Sister is going to give you a little injection to make you feel better.’ And Amy found herself whisked out of the room with a swiftness that brooked no argument.
Out in the corridor, the doctor said quietly, ‘It was time for his medication, Miss Shawe. Please don’t distress yourself.’
Amy brushed the tears from her cheeks. ‘Is he going to get better?’
Dr Shelton sighed. ‘This can wait until you are feeling a little more like yourself.’
‘Please, I want to know.’
‘He is paralysed in the lower half of his body and this will not change. Certain internal complications have put a strain on his heart but we’re hoping that time will ease this. Unfortunately Mr Callendar was not a well man before this incident occurred. I gather from his own doctor that his liver has been under stress for many years and that he doesn’t eat properly or look after himself. His doctor told him only a short while ago that he would be lucky to see another birthday unless he altered his way of life.’
Amy stared at him. ‘I see,’ she whispered.
‘So you will appreciate we are battling against the odds. Having said that, I am frequently surprised by how men and women rally if they have the will to live. I have seen patients slip away who really have very little wrong with them, and others, like Mr Callendar, go on for years if the life force is strong. It really does depend on the individual human spirit.’
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