All My Tomorrows (17 page)

‘Well, it’s about time,’ Cordelia said with a ghost of a smile on her begrimed and bloody face. ‘Not that the sight of your ugly mug is anything to celebrate.’

‘You’re not exactly a picture of loveliness, either. But ’tis thankful I am that you’re alive.’ Ron held her hand and watched anxiously as the medics searched for vital signs in Peggy and Daisy. He could see the copious amount of blood on Peggy’s clothing and prayed that they’d found her in time.

Daisy miraculously seemed to have been asleep, for when the ambulance girl picked her up she opened her eyes and gave her a broad, almost toothless smile.

‘We need to get Mrs Reilly to hospital as quickly as possible,’ the other medic said. ‘She’s lost a lot of blood by the look of it, and her pulse is very weak.’

As the stretcher was brought and they laid Peggy on it and covered her with a blanket, the medic checked on Cordelia. ‘Superficial cuts and bruises, and a possible fractured wrist.’ She smiled at Cordelia as she gently placed her arm in a sling. ‘You’ve been a very lucky lady.’

‘I know,’ she said weakly. ‘Just concentrate on Peggy. She’s had a miscarriage.’

Ron’s eyes widened at this piece of news but he kept his own counsel. ‘I’ll bring Cordelia,’ he said to the young girl as she packed her medical bag.

He squatted down, eased his arm behind Cordelia’s back, tucked his other beneath her knees and gently carried her over the rubble and out into the smoke-laden garden where the haze of fire still lightened the sky. He felt the frail little body relax in his arms, and the meagre weight of her head against his shoulder, and knew in that moment just how very much she meant to him.

The first ambulance had already raced off for the hospital with Peggy and Daisy, the bell clanging stridently. Ron thanked John Hicks and his crew, took Harvey from him and sat in the second ambulance, Cordelia cradled on his knee, Harvey lying on the floor at his feet.

‘You can’t bring the dog in here,’ said the sour-faced driver.

‘You’ll drive your ambulance to the hospital with my dog in it, or I’ll be giving you a bloody nose,’ he growled. Harvey’s hackles rose and he curled his top lip and snarled too. The man gave no further argument, and within seconds they were roaring down Camden Road.

The hospital was an enormous building which sprawled the width of an entire block and serviced a vast area of isolated villages, hamlets and small towns. It was a busy night, with four ambulances already unloading patients at the accident and emergency wing, and lots of walking wounded being brought in by friends and family.

Ron carried Cordelia straight into the emergency department, took one look at the mayhem, spotted an empty bed and put her down.

‘She’ll have to wait out there like everyone else,’ said the harassed nurse. ‘You can’t leave her here.’

‘She’s an old lady who’s earned the right to be treated immediately after what she’s just been through,’ he said quietly. ‘She has a broken wrist, cuts and abrasions – but I want a doctor to give her a thorough examination to make sure we haven’t missed anything.’

The girl seemed to realise he wouldn’t be shifted and gave a sigh. ‘All right, but you’ll have to take the dog out of here. Matron will have a fit if she sees it.’

‘Harvey stays with me,’ he said firmly. ‘And I’m staying with Cordelia until I’m satisfied she’s been examined and treated properly.’

The girl smiled with sudden recognition. ‘You’re Ronan Reilly, aren’t you?’ At his nod her smile widened. ‘I thought so. Fran and Suzy are always talking about you.’ She patted his arm. ‘I’ll fetch the doctor.’

Ron pulled the curtains round and sat on the end of the bed while Harvey crawled beneath it, nose on paws, as patient as ever.

Cordelia opened her eyes and winced as she tried to move her damaged wrist. ‘I’ll be fine, Ron. Go and find out what’s happened to Peggy. I won’t rest easy until I know she and Daisy are all right.’

‘I’ll be going the moment I know you’re in safe hands,’ he replied softly.

‘I’ve been in safe hands since the moment you carried me out of the cellar,’ she murmured, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘Thank you, dearest Ron.’

Ron blinked rapidly and folded his arms. ‘To be sure, Cordelia, you talk a lot of nonsense sometimes,’ he said gruffly.

The middle-aged doctor arrived, looking as frazzled as the young nurse who accompanied him. He barely glanced at Harvey or Ron as he sent them out of the cubicle while he examined Cordelia. A few minutes later the nurse fetched a wheelchair, and shortly after that she wheeled Cordelia off to the X-ray department with the promise of a cup of strong, sweet tea to counter the shock of her ordeal.

‘We’ll plaster her wrist and find her a bed for the night so we can keep an eye on her,’ the doctor said as he smothered a vast yawn. ‘She may have suffered concussion during the bomb blast, and she’ll be safer here.’

‘My daughter-in-law, Peggy Reilly, came in with her baby Daisy as well. Where can I find them?’

The other man dug his hands into the pockets of his white coat. ‘I was with the team when she came in,’ he said, his expression too solemn for Ron’s liking. ‘She’s had to go straight into theatre. But Daisy is absolutely fine, and she’ll be kept in the nursery overnight.’

‘Cordelia said Peggy had had a miscarriage.’

The doctor nodded. ‘I’m afraid so, but there were added complications which I can’t go into without breaking patient confidentiality. Can her husband be contacted?’

A shaft of fear speared Ron. ‘She’s not going to die, is she?’ he breathed.

‘All operations carry some risk, but one must remain positive in situations like this.’

‘My son’s somewhere up north with the Royal Engineers,’ Ron said fretfully. ‘I don’t even have a phone number for his unit’s barracks.’ His voice quavered and he found his hand was shaking as he felt Harvey’s wet, consoling nose nudge the palm. ‘Can I wait until the operation’s over?’

‘Go down that corridor and keep going until you come to a set of double doors. You’ll find a row of chairs there where you can wait. But it could be a long while, Mr Reilly, and you really cannot take your dog with you.’

‘Aye, I understand that. Thank you, doctor.’

Ron led Harvey outside and ordered him to sit and wait by the steps where he wouldn’t get in the way. He gave the soft head and ears a loving stroke and then hurried back up the steps and navigated his way along the endless corridor to the theatre wing.

The chairs were hard and uncomfortable, and he could have done with a large mug of tea – but Peggy was as beloved as a daughter, and he would sit here for as long as necessary, and pray that she would survive this terrible night.

Chapter Nine

AS THE LONG
night progressed the girls arrived one by one to sit quietly beside him. Ron didn’t have to tell them very much, for they had learned what had happened from Peggy’s neighbours, and seen the damage to Beach View and the houses behind it. He explained about Cordelia and Daisy and the scant news he had about Peggy, and thought himself blessed that these girls cared so deeply for his little family.

Suzy had brought a flask of tea and two doorstep-sized sandwiches, whilst Jane had a packet of digestive biscuits. Fran had a small bottle of brandy in her coat pocket, which Brenda had given her as she’d passed the Anchor on her way to the hospital, and Sarah was carrying Ron’s poacher’s coat in case he was feeling the cold after his ordeal.

Ron sat and waited, cursing the clock on the wall as it slowly ticked away the endless minutes. And yet the girls were a great comfort to him, always making sure he was never alone as they took turns to check on Cordelia and Daisy, and to try and get a progress report on Peggy’s operation.

Sarah and Jane returned with the news that their beloved great-aunt was comfortable now her arm was in plaster, and fast asleep on the women’s ward. Suzy then went to the nursery to check on Daisy, who was also asleep and blissfully unaware of the dramatic events of the night – and once she’d returned, Fran went to see if anyone could tell her what was happening in the operating theatre.

She came back and plumped down next to Ron. ‘No one will tell me anything,’ she muttered as she took his hand. ‘But Mr Simmons is the best surgeon we have here, and I’m sure everything will be fine.’

Rita turned up an hour later with another flask of tea, her little face streaked with soot, her hair and heavy-duty clothes still damp from the hoses. She asked immediately for news and was disappointed to find there wasn’t any. ‘I would have been here earlier, but what with the number of fires and everything . . .’ She gave Ron’s arm a comforting squeeze. ‘Everyone at the fire station sends their best love, and I managed to get someone to give Harvey a bowl of water – poor old thing, he looked so sad sitting there on the steps. Is there anything else I can do to help?’

‘Aye,’ he muttered, ‘you could find him some food. The poor wee beast must be starving by now.’

‘Of course I will.’ Rita hurried off, her heavy boots squeaking on the highly polished linoleum.

Ron ate the sandwiches, even though he really had little appetite, and drank the tea, which he’d laced heavily with the brandy. The clock on the wall told him it was past one in the morning. He’d been sitting here for almost two hours, and every minute had felt like an eternity.

Rita returned some time later, still in her uniform. ‘I took Harvey to the fire station and we gave him a saucer of beer along with his water, and some scraps with biscuits. He’s currently lording it by stretching out in John’s office in front of the heater.’ She sat down with the other girls. ‘Any news yet?’ As they all shook their heads, Rita gave a long sigh of despair, slumped in the chair, and fell silent.

Nurses bustled past, orderlies clanged buckets as they mopped the floor, porters pushed squeaking trolleys and doctors could be seen at the far end of the corridor rushing past, their white coats flapping – but no one came near, and they all began to wonder if they’d become invisible, or had simply been forgotten.

‘I don’t understand what’s taking so long,’ said Ron peevishly. ‘For the love of God, you’d think someone would come out and let us know what’s happening in there.’

Purposeful footsteps came down the corridor and they all turned expectantly. But it wasn’t Matron or a doctor with news – it was Doris.

‘I do think one of you could have had the decency to let me know that my sister is in hospital,’ she said before she’d even reached the line of chairs.

‘The phone lines were down and as I don’t possess a carrier pigeon, I assumed you’d hear the gossip sooner rather than later,’ said Ron sourly. He couldn’t stand Doris – knew the feeling was mutual, and didn’t care a fig.

Doris sniffed and eyed them all disdainfully. ‘Will one of you at least tell me how Peggy is?’

‘We know as little as you do,’ said Suzy. ‘They’re operating on her now.’

‘I see.’ Doris folded her fur coat around her and sat down in the line of chairs opposite, her glossy leather handbag clasped on her lap. Her hair was neat, the make-up flawless as usual, the sheer stockings and expensive shoes positively shouting wealth and privilege.

‘I see you rushed out the moment you heard,’ said Ron, eyeing her in disgust.

She glared at Ron. ‘There are certain standards to be maintained even in moments of crisis, Reilly. Discipline and order, those are my watchwords – and it is a shame that you do not live by the same ethos.’

Ron hated it when she talked to him that way – using his surname as if he was some forelock-tugging peasant. He took a long swig of tea and brandy and closed his eyes. The night was already endless and distressing. Did he really have to put up with this sour-faced old witch as well? He peeped through his lashes. It seemed he did, for Doris was settling down to read the paperback she’d taken from her handbag.

The clatter of the double doors swinging open startled them from their morose stupor, and they looked up as the grey-haired surgeon strode towards them.

‘Mr Reilly?’ He shook Ron’s hand. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a long wait, but there were complications which had to be addressed immediately. Your daughter-in-law has come through with flying colours, and I expect her to make a full recovery.’

‘I am Mrs Williams – Mrs Reilly’s sister – her next of kin,’ said Doris with a glare at Ron. ‘What was the matter with her and what exactly do you mean by complications?’

The surgeon looked from Ron to Doris with a frown, then clearly realised Doris was not someone he could ignore. ‘Mrs Reilly was in the early stages of pregnancy, but it appears that the foetus was forming in the fallopian tube instead of the womb. We call this an ectopic pregnancy,’ he explained carefully. ‘The pain and the bleeding she suffered were due to the rupture of the tube, and this led to an internal haemorrhage. Such cases are often fatal if not caught in time and it was only the swift actions of Mr Reilly and the ambulance medics that saved her.’

Doris was ashen as she sat down. ‘But she will be all right, won’t she?’ she murmured.

‘I expect her to make a full recovery, Mrs Williams, but there will be no more babies.’

‘That’s not a bad thing,’ sniffed Doris. ‘She’s far too long in the tooth for such nonsense anyway.’

Ron heard the girls gasp at her rudeness and lack of care, felt the stress and worry of the night build to breaking point, and exploded. ‘If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, woman, then you should go home,’ he barked.

Doris went pale as she gripped her handbag.

Feeling slightly better, he turned back to the doctor before Doris could think of some nasty retort. ‘Can we see her?’

He shook his head. ‘She’s in the recovery ward and will stay there until she comes round fully from the anaesthetic. The operation was a long, fairly complicated ordeal for her and she needs time to recover.’ He smiled at Ron and the girls. ‘But I can see she has loving support and a close-knit family to look after her, so no doubt she will soon be on the mend.’

Doris snorted as she collected her things and, with a glare of contempt at all of them, strode away down the corridor.

Ron caught the astonishment in the surgeon’s face and shot him a weary smile. ‘Doris can be tricky,’ he explained with breathtaking understatement. ‘Just ignore her.’ He shook the surgeon’s hand. ‘Thank you for taking such good care of our girl, Mr Simmons. You have no idea how grateful we are, to be sure.’