Angel of the North (30 page)

But Aunt Edie was asleep. ‘Don’t talk,’ Marie said, ‘it’s making you even more breathless. Close your eyes and rest. The doctor will be here soon.’

‘I’m not going . . . to hospital,’ her mother gasped.

‘We’ll talk in the morning, when you’re a bit better.’ Marie wiped her mother’s clammy forehead, and sat her forward to plump up the pillows, then left her to
sleep, taking up her vigil in the armchair for the rest of that warm July night.

It was almost five o’clock before Dr Thackeray arrived, and Marie trusted him on sight. Middle height, middle-aged, solemn, calm, grey-haired and mild-mannered, here was a man they could
have faith in. He took a brief history, and then did a thorough examination. Apart from gasping out an absolute refusal to go to hospital, Marie’s mother was in no position to resist.

‘Acute heart failure,’ he said. ‘People can recover from it, sometimes even without treatment. Keep her in bed. I see you’ve given her plenty of pillows. That’s
good; keep her sitting up. And give her these pills. They’ll get rid of the fluid. These others are to strengthen her heartbeat. I’ve given you enough to last until you can get the
prescription from the chemist tomorrow. I’ll look in to see her then.’

He saw Marie’s expression, and gave her a few words of reassurance. ‘It’s not hopeless. She might recover, with careful nursing. It’s amazing what people can survive, if
they’ve got the will. Is she a fighter?’

‘She always was,’ Marie said, ‘although I think a lot of the fight’s been used up. How much she’s got left, I wouldn’t like to say. She’s taken too many
beatings lately, one way and another.’

George was up at seven to go to Dunswell on his motorbike, to tell the family there before he started work. As soon as the shops opened Marie left Aunt Edie watching over her
sleeping mother and went to the chemist to get the prescription and then to the nearest public telephone box. Mrs Elsworth answered the ring.

‘Dr Thackeray’s been,’ Marie told her. ‘What a nice man. He says it’s not hopeless, but she’s pretty bad. It could go either way. I’ll be staying with
her, until I know what the outcome’s going to be. And thanks for recommending him, not to mention offering to pay his fee.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Mrs Elsworth said. ‘And if there’s anything else we can do, let us know at once. By the way, there’s a letter from Charles in the post
this morning.’

‘For me?’

‘Of course, for you. I’ll send Danny down with it.’

Next Marie rang Bourne, and left a message for Pam. The very thought of Bourne and the Stewarts brought Alfie and the Mortons into sharp focus in her mind, but she made no mention of them, and
neither did Mrs Stewart, who sounded very sympathetic and promised to tell Pam the news about her mother as soon as she got in from school.

When Marie approached the corner of Clumber Street she nearly bumped into Nancy’s mother, coming out of the Co-op.

‘There’s less and less decent meat. All I could get was sausages. Links of mystery, I call them. I hope it’s not horsemeat; I’ve heard they’re passing that off on
people now,’ she said, and hesitated for a moment before adding: ‘I’ve heard about Charles and that Hannah, by the way. I don’t usually stick my nose into other
people’s business, and it might sound funny coming from me, with Nancy going off and everything, but I was tied to a bloke like that.’ A light suddenly seemed to come on inside Mrs
Harding’s head. ‘That must be where she gets it from! She takes after
him
!’ she exclaimed, and nodding to herself she left Marie and walked on, without another word.

When Marie got back to Clumber Street Uncle Alfred and Auntie Dot had arrived, with Alfie.

‘She’s not going to die, is she?’ Alfie demanded, the usual light of mischief absent from his eyes.

Marie put a warning finger to her lips. ‘Ssh. People can hear, even when they seem to be asleep sometimes.’

‘Make them a cup of tea, Marie, and talk in the dining room. I’ll stay in here with your mam,’ Aunt Edie said.

‘She’s not going to die, is she?’ Alfie repeated, the minute they were in the kitchen and out of earshot.

Marie stroked back his hair, and looked into his eyes. ‘You’re beginning to get some sense now, Alfie, so I’ll give you it straight. Truth is, I’m no wiser than you. All
I can say is the doctor’s been, and he says if she’s got any fight left in her, she might get better. And it’s only a might.’

He stood back from her, and folded his arms. ‘Well, I’m staying here, until she does.’

Marie shook her head. ‘Oh no, you’re not, my lad. For one thing, this isn’t our house, and Aunt Edie’s got enough to do with looking after Mam. I’ll have to wake
her to give her her pills soon, so you can stay and have a few words with her, and as soon as she’s too tired to talk, you’re going back with Uncle Alf and Auntie Dot.’

Uncle Alfred backed her up. ‘That’s right. If you want your mam to get better, the best thing you can do is leave her in peace, and not give her anything to worry about.’

‘You all right, Alfie?’ their mother smiled, as he squeezed her hand half an hour later.

Alfie nodded. ‘Yeah, but I’m staying here until you get better.’

Alarm filled their mother’s eyes. ‘No. No. Go back to . . . Dunswell . . . safe there.’ She gave him a wan smile, the rest of her effort concentrated on getting her breath.

Marie ushered him out of the room. ‘All you’re doing is upsetting her,’ she said. ‘It’ll make her worse, not better. You get back to Dunswell, like you’ve
been told. I’ve got enough to worry about, without any of your nonsense.’

‘Well, I’m coming every day after school, then. I’ll come on my bike.’

‘All right, and you go back well before it gets dark.’

There was a raid that night. The warning came at five to one, and George took Aunt Edie to the shelter, begging Marie to go with them. But taking her mother to the shelter, or even to the
understairs cupboard was out of the question, and Marie insisted on staying with her. The bombs began their screeching descent at about ten to two, exploding so near that while trying to comfort
her mother by holding her hand, Marie began to shake uncontrollably, unable to stop her teeth from chattering. Whether her mother felt any terror or not was hard to tell; if she did she was too ill
to show any sign of it. When the all clear came at twenty minutes past three, Marie could have collapsed with relief.

‘None of them had our names on it tonight, then, Mam,’ she said, marvelling that they were still alive and whole.

‘Thank God,’ her mother whispered. ‘Thank God. My poor lass.’

Thank God indeed, Marie thought, wondering if they’d be quite so fortunate next time there was an air raid.

George got home from work just as Marie was laying the table for tea.

‘Sidmouth School copped it,’ he told her, ‘and some houses on Anlaby Road and North Hull Estate. A bit too close to home, that, wasn’t it? Twenty-five people dead, and
about thirty seriously injured. Plenty of clearing up for us to do, as usual. I’m starving.’

Half of those seriously injured would probably die before they were much older, just like her mother was threatening to do now, Marie thought. Half of the seriously injured might as well be
counted among the dead from the outset. Some might not even last the day, like that burned fireman she’d seen in the infirmary. And Sidmouth School was right next to Dad’s allotment,
barely half a mile away. Thank God she’d insisted on Alfie going back to Dunswell. He’d probably have gone dashing off to the ARP station and maybe got himself killed otherwise.

Alfie emerged from the kitchen, where he’d put some eggs on to boil. ‘Hello, George.’

‘What are you doing here? I thought your mam told you to stay in Dunswell.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Alfie said. ‘I
am
staying in Dunswell. I only came to see my mam and our Marie. And I’ve brought you six eggs for your
tea.’

‘Good. I’ll be doing a bit of overtime after I’ve had something to eat, and you’ll be going straight back to Dunswell.’

‘I know. Our Marie’s already told me.’

After the meal, when George and Alfie had gone, Marie gave her mother another dose of the pills the doctor had prescribed. She collapsed back against her pillows, seeming exhausted by the effort
of taking them. ‘Our Pam lives in Bourne now,’ she gasped. ‘She’ll be all right . . . and Alfie’s settled with Dot and Alf . . . There’s just you, our Marie . .
. my poor lass. Who’ll take care of you?’

‘Don’t worry your head about Marie, Lillian. We’ll look after her. Me and George,’ Aunt Edie piped up.

‘Don’t worry about anything, Mam. You’re going to be all right. Your breathing’s better already. Just you take your pills for a few more days, and you’ll be as
right as rain.’

Her mother shook her head. ‘I doubt that, somehow,’ she said.

When she’d gone to sleep, Marie sank into the armchair opposite Aunt Edie, looking forward to a comfortable hour or two listening to the wireless. But within a few
minutes a frantic knocking at the front door disturbed her. She got up to answer it and was confronted by Danny Elsworth, red-faced and sweating.

‘It’s Alfie!’ he gasped. ‘Alfie’s in hospital – going to hospital – in the ambulance. Charles, as well.’

‘Alfie’s in hospital?’ Marie repeated. ‘He should have been back in Dunswell. And Charles – what’s he doing here?’

‘He waited for you all day, Marie, and when you never arrived, he set off to come and find you.’

‘Waited for me? I didn’t even know he was at home.’

‘I brought you his letter!’ Danny protested. ‘Didn’t they give it to you?’

‘I’ve had no letter,’ Marie said.

Aunt Edie called from the doorway of the front room. ‘Oh, sorry, Marie. With your mother being so poorly and everything, I forgot to mention it. It’s still on the
mantelpiece.’

‘Well, he’s home,’ Danny said. ‘And if he hadn’t been, Alfie would probably be dead by now.’

Marie’s knees turned to water. ‘Oh, my God, come through to the kitchen, where we can talk without waking Mam. It might finish her off, if she hears.’

He shook his head, and backed away. ‘I can’t wait. I’ll have to go and find Dad, and tell him about Charles.’

Marie stepped out of the house and closed the door, to prevent her mother from hearing anything.

‘Wait, Danny. Calm down, and take two minutes to tell me what’s happened.’

‘I saw Alfie when he was on his way here. He said: “I’ll go and see how my mam is, and then why don’t we go and have that game of billiards before I bike it back to
Dunswell? We could go up and see what damage they’ve done to Sidmouth Street and North Hull, as well.” We agreed to meet on Marlborough Avenue after tea, so that’s what we did.
And then we saw Jenny. She was playing in the garden of that bombed house, the one that copped it on the same night as yours. We shouted to her to come away, and as soon as she saw Alfie her face
lit up and she waved and came running towards us, and then – she just disappeared! We went to see what had happened, and where she’d been standing there was nothing but a hole, as deep
as a grave, and it seemed to go into a tunnel. She started screaming, so we shouted to her and she answered, and then quick as lightning Alfie grabbed a length of washing line that was lying in the
garden, and jumped down the hole to tie it to her for me to pull her up. And then I had a horrible thought that there might be an unexploded bomb down there, so I started shouting for help. And
then both of them stopped talking. I knew then there was something really bad happening – they were both just sitting at the bottom of the hole . . .’

He paused for breath, his eyes flitting from side to side as he relived it all. ‘Some people were coming out of their houses, rushing across to us to see what was up, and then I saw
Charles. He just got into the hole really carefully and lifted Alfie out, and he told the people to call an ambulance, because it was gas, and Alfie was sick all over him, and then he passed out.
So I started giving him artificial respiration, and Charles got Jenny up. She’d passed out, and she looked all red, so somebody started giving her artificial respiration. Charles was trying
to take some deep breaths and then he just sat on the pavement with his feet in the gutter and his head in his hands. Then the ambulance came and Jenny started having a fit while they were lifting
her into it. One of them said “My cat weighs more than this bairn. She’s half-starved.” Oh, it was terrible, just about the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I went straight home
to tell Mum, but she must be at the WVS, so I’m going to find Dad now.’

‘What about Hannah? Have you told her?’

As if to hide sudden tears, he turned quickly away and mounted his bike. ‘Yes,’ he choked, and sped off without another word.

‘Which hospital, Danny?’ Marie called after him.

He stopped, and shouted from halfway down the street, ‘Children’s, I suppose. And they said they’d take Charles to the Naval Hospital. He was still in his uniform.’

Marie went first to the Children’s Hospital on Park Street. When the gabled red-brick building came into view, she thought she ought to be sick of the sight of hospitals
but the façade looked solid and comforting. She hurried through the tall double doors and a sympathetic porter confirmed that the two children had been admitted. He let her in, and as she
sped across the tiled floor she felt as if she were coming home. Here, as in Hull Royal, the patients’ washbowls would be given out at six, then would come breakfast, and the making of beds.
Temperatures, dressings, doctor’s rounds, surgical lists – all would be done at the proper times and in the prescribed manner in an invariable routine that left you little time to worry
about anything else. The predictability of it all was deeply reassuring. The gates of Hell could not prevail against hospital routine.

‘He’s very poorly,’ Sister told her when she got to the ward. ‘The doctor’s only just left him. He put him on oxygen. You can see him for a minute or two, and come
back tomorrow during visiting hours. He should be a bit better by then. Second bed on the left.’

‘How’s Jenny?’