Eventually the kettle began to boil, so she would have to move. Murmuring softly to the boy, she carried him to the old sofa by the window, laid him down on it and covered him with the blankets. He stirred, and then settled again, his breathing becoming rhythmic once more. She lit two candles and by their light made some tea. Sitting at the table she sipped at it and ate a few bites of a sandwich. From her reticule she took out her watch and laid it on the table. It gave the time at ten minutes past eight.
She fed the range with more coal later on, and pulled up a chair near the sofa. While the steam rose from the wet garments on the clothes-horse she watched the boy as he slept.
This was not the way she had meant it to be, she said to herself, but it would be better tomorrow. Everything was new and strange to the child, so of course he was not at ease with it. He was so tired, too, so exhausted. For him it had been the longest day, but he would be all right soon. It was just his tiredness. When he had had a good night’s sleep, he would be all right again. If the weather was dry they would find something interesting to do in the town. Perhaps go to the aquarium, or do something else that would amuse him.
She continued to gaze down at him in the dim light. The only sound in the room was the occasional crackle coming from the range. There was no sound at all from the night outside. She yawned. For her too it had been a long day, and she felt the exhaustion of all the tense and pressing hours. She was dog-tired, and she needed to sleep. After a time she rose and, taking a lighted candle, went up to the bedroom again and brought down another blanket. After banking up the fire she settled herself on the sofa with him, covered herself and tried to sleep.
She was awakened by the boy’s coughing, though it would have taken far less to wake her; she had not been deeply asleep. Indeed, neither of them had slept well. Just as she had passed the night in fitful dozes, she was well aware that the boy had done the same.
Casting aside the blanket she sat on the edge of the sofa and put an arm around him as he sat up. ‘Are you all right, my darling?’ she said. He coughed again and said yes, but there was no energy in his voice, no note of enthusiasm. Picking up the watch from the table she saw that it was just after eight. ‘It’s going to be a nice morning, Joshie,’ she said, turning, looking out of the window over the back yard. ‘The sun is out for a change, look.’
Leaving the child under his blankets on the sofa, she washed her face and hands and then got dressed, throwing on her clothes with no consideration as to her appearance. That done, she raked out the hot ashes from the range, then went out into the yard for wood and coal for the fire. There was little of both left, and she would have to get more. The sky was clear, but there was a keen wind blowing, and she was glad to get back into the relative comfort of the kitchen. When she had rekindled the fire she put on a kettle of water to boil. A little later, when it had heated, she poured some into a bowl and gave the boy a wash. The clothes she had draped before the range had quite dried during the night and she got him dressed. He suffered it all uncomplaining, passively and without comment, in
contrast to how he usually was with his little protests and obvious impatience to be getting on with something more vital and more interesting. He was rather listless, she observed, and she told herself that it was due to his not sleeping so well, and his exhaustion of the day before. For breakfast, she could only offer him more of the sandwiches that Mrs Lemmon had prepared, and she put one on a plate before him as he sat at the table, and poured a little water into a glass. He took a bite from the beef sandwich and a sip from the glass, and then sat back in the chair, wanting no more. ‘No?’ she said. ‘No more?’ He shook his head. She gave a nod; she would not press him. Reaching out, she laid the back of her hand upon his brow. ‘Your forehead’s too warm, Joshie,’ she said, frowning. ‘I hope you haven’t caught a little chill.’
He said nothing, but looked back at her dully, without interest in her words.
‘Here,’ she said, picking up his toy horse, ‘here’s your Mr Charlie Dobbin. Aren’t you glad to see him today?’
She put the toy on the table and the boy picked it up, clicked his tongue at it in a half-hearted way, and moved it across the table top in little jerking, galloping movements. Lily said, smiling, ‘Oh, that’s good. I’m sure Mr Dobbin likes a little exercise.’ The boy smiled faintly, moved the toy horse on a few more inches, then set it back down.
Lily watched him for a few moments, then said, ‘We need to get a few things from the shops. Let’s go round and see Mrs Tanner next door for a second or two, shall we? She’ll help us out, I know.’
Taking him by the hand, she led him out of the house to the front gate, and turned up the path of the adjoining house. Her rap on the door was answered by Millie, Mrs Tanner’s granddaughter. Invited in without hesitation, Lily and the boy went along the passage into the kitchen where Mrs Tanner sat with her crochet beside the range. The old
lady was surprised to see her, and Lily told her that she had come to stay next door for a few days with her mistress’s little son. She would not sit down, she said, when invited to, but she would be most grateful if the old lady or Millie could sit with the child for half an hour while she went to the shops to buy a few necessities. Millie spoke up at once; she would go to the shops, she said, and get whatever was needed.
The girl put on her coat and hat and accompanied Lily and Joshua back to the house next door. There Lily wrote a list of things she needed and gave it to the girl with some money, asking her also to call at the coal merchant’s yard in the next street and ask for a sack of coal to be delivered to the house.
‘There, Joshie,’ Lily said when the girl had gone, a basket over her arm, ‘Millie’s going to get us something nice for our dinner and also for breakfast tomorrow. She’s going to get a little tonic for you as well – that’ll make you feel better – and she’ll go to the dairy too, later on, and get us some milk.’
While Millie was away, Mrs Tanner came in, bringing part of a fruit cake that she had baked, and a large piece of apple pie. She cooed and clucked over Joshua where he sat on the sofa, and tried, briefly, to amuse him, but he showed little interest, and after a few minutes she gave up and settled in the grandfather chair near the range while Lily made some tea.
As the two women sat drinking it a knock came at the front door, and Lily answered it to find on the doorstep a young man selling bundles of kindling. She bought some and set them down in the hearth beside the range. Millie came back a little later, her basket loaded, bringing eggs, bread, potatoes, cabbage, and a small piece of beef. She had also bought some candles, a bottle of Haver’s tonic, and a little bar of plain chocolate. As soon as she had unloaded
the basket she set off again, this time heading for the nearby dairy. While she was gone, Lily put away the groceries and opened the bottle of patent medicine and poured a little into a glass along with some water. After a few moments’ coaxing, she got the boy to drink a little, but he spat it out and turned his head away, refusing to take any more. ‘Oh, come, Joshie,’ she pleaded, ‘do try to take a little. It’s good for you. And if you drink a spoonful you can have a bit of chocolate to take away the taste.’ He could not be persuaded, however, and Lily put the chocolate and medicine away in the cupboard.
Millie came back shortly afterwards, bringing a quart of milk and a small quantity of butter and cheese, after which Mrs Tanner got up from her chair to return to her home next door. Millie remained, glad of a change of company and someone new to talk to. She was happy also to make herself useful, feeding the fire in the range and tidying the hearth, and fetching in water from the well. She was, she explained to Lily, between employments. She had recently been working as a milkmaid at a nearby farm, but the farm had been sold on and she was now looking for a post elsewhere.
She went at midday, leaving Lily to prepare a meal for herself and the boy. The child wanted little of it, though, and after the first couple of mouthfuls turned from his plate. There was mucus coming from his nose, and Lily wiped it away. His brow was over-warm when she laid her hand upon it.
Up in the main bedroom, Lily lit the fire to air the room and the bed. Back downstairs she got the boy to lie down on the sofa, covered by the blankets. As he slept, she busied herself about the kitchen, tidying the place, washing the dishes and preparing food for the evening, all the time moving as quietly as she could, so as not to wake him. Later during the afternoon the coal merchant came with a bag of
coal. Lily was relieved; at least now they could be sure of keeping warm.
She prepared an omelette later for herself and the boy, and was pleased to see him eat a little of it. But it was only a very little, and when she spoke coaxingly to him, trying to encourage him to eat more, he began to cry. He was consoled after a while, but she knew well that any such consolation could only be a passing thing.
That evening she tried again to get him to take some of the medicine, but he would have none of it, and after a few vain, coaxing words, she gave up. She changed him into his nightshirt then and took him upstairs to the bedroom, which was illuminated with one of the nightlights that Millie had brought from the chandler’s. Lily sat on the side of the bed as he lay with his stuffed rabbit in his arms. When he had fallen asleep, she continued to sit there for some minutes, then eased herself up and crept back down to the kitchen. There she sat at the table, the door to the passage open so that she would be able to hear him if he should awake and cry out.
Later, up in the bedroom, she put on her nightdress and got into bed beside him. He stirred briefly as she lowered herself onto the mattress, but then settled again. She lay on her side, her left hand light upon his small body, feeling his warmth, his nearness. With his nose congested, his breathing, usually so sweet, sounded harsh in the quiet.
Later in the night he suddenly awoke. ‘Mama,’ he said in an anxious little cry, and Lily put her arm around him and spoke to him in soft tones. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘You’ll be going to see your mama soon. Go to sleep, darling. Go to sleep. You’re safe, you’re safe.’
He moved restlessly for a little while, swallowing and sniffing, and she murmured softly to him with comforting words. After a time he settled again and fell asleep once more.
Lying in the dimly-lit room, she looked up at the ceiling, taking in the cracks and the water-stains that marked the old plaster. In her blind way she had somehow trusted that everything would work out, but nothing was happening the way she had envisaged.
On the seat of the old kitchen chair that stood beside the bed, her watch ticked the hours away into the quiet. Tomorrow, she said to herself, she would pack up their things and they would go back to Happerfell.
Next morning she could see at once that the boy was no better. In fact, it was obvious that he was worse. His nose was blocked so that he was forced to breath only through his mouth, while at the same time the mucus ran down from his nostrils and over his upper lip. Lily wiped it away and soothed his warm brow. There was no question of their travelling back to Happerfell today. She could not take him on such a journey in his present condition. The day was damp, and bitterly cold, and she could only think that he must stay indoors in the warm. If he was well enough tomorrow, they would go then.
Millie came later in the day, and tried to amuse Joshua as he sat on the sofa. He would not be diverted, though, and sat there dull and listless. When she pressed him a little he grew tearful, and she tactfully withdrew her attentions.
The longer Lily observed him the more her concern grew, and in the end she asked Millie if there was a doctor nearby. The girl replied that there was a Dr Trinshaw living not far away, and that he had visited her grandmother on two or three occasions. ‘Can you go for him?’ Lily asked her. The girl at once agreed, and went back next door to put on her hat and coat and set out on her errand. She returned some twenty minutes later saying that she had left a message at the doctor’s house, and that he would be calling round just as soon as he could.
Millie left the house again soon afterwards, leaving Lily and the boy alone. Just over an hour later there came a knock at the door, and Lily answered it and found the doctor standing in the little porch, his carriage in the road beyond the gate. Dr Trinshaw was a slim man of middle height, in his late fifties. He had bushy side whiskers and wore a dark brown ulster. She asked him to come in and led the way into the kitchen where the child still lay on the sofa.
‘Are you the boy’s mother?’ the doctor asked, looking down at Joshua.
She hesitated for the briefest moment, then said, ‘No. I – I’m his guardian for now. His parents are in Scotland.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Four and a half.’
He nodded. ‘The girl left the message that he’s poorly and has a very bad cold. Is that right? What are his symptoms?’
Lily told of the child’s raised temperature, his dry cough, his running nose and lack of energy and appetite, and added that on Sunday the two of them had got wet through in the rain. He had not been well since.
The doctor had put down his bag and taken off his coat, and Lily watched while he bent to the child. ‘And what is your name, young man?’ he said to him, smiling.
‘Joshie,’ the child said.
‘Ah, Joshie, is it? And you’re four and a half, are you?’
‘Yes. I shall be five next May.’
‘Shall you now?’ The doctor indicated the boy’s toy horse on the sofa beside him and said, ‘That looks like a fine animal. He’s yours, is he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, very handsome indeed.’
The doctor sat on the sofa and gently unbuttoned the boy’s shirt. After he had done so he pulled the garment down from the child’s shoulder, exposing the scar on his
upper arm. ‘I see he’s been vaccinated,’ he said to Lily. ‘And not so long ago.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The doctor nodded, and continued his examination, taking the boy’s pulse and sounding his lungs with a stethoscope. Joshua protested a little at first, giving a plaintive little moan, and Lily thought that he might cry, but the doctor spoke softly to him and called him by his name, and after a few moments the child relaxed and suffered the intrusion without further complaint.