Alone Beneath The Heaven (18 page)
Read Alone Beneath The Heaven Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
‘Nevertheless, we’ll know the right one for you when we see it.’
Sarah had to admit that forty-four, Ash Street was an improvement on the adjoining houses either side. There were no cracked windows for a start, and the step had been freshly whitened. The front door was painted a dark sedate green, and the brass knocker, a grinning elf’s head, was polished and gleaming.
‘Let me look at that advertisement again, Peggy.’
Sarah took the card and read, ‘Room available with respectable family, very reasonable and evening meal included.’ The advertisement was written in large round capital letters with a pencil, and was reminiscent of Maggie’s laboured scrawl. It was that, along with the ‘respectable family’ which had prompted Sarah to pursue it, despite the district.
‘I’ll knock, shall I, miss?’
‘Yes, all right, Peggy.’ At the last house Sarah had forbidden Peggy to do even that.
The door was opened by a small, plump, middle-aged woman, and a pair of bright eyes assessed them for a moment before the woman said, her voice rough but not unfriendly, ‘Yes, ducks?’
‘Good afternoon. I understand you had a room to let? Is it still available?’
The woman hesitated, then said, ‘Well, there’s someone bin round earlier, but ’e ain’t let me know one way or the other yet.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ They all stood in silence for a moment, and Sarah was just about to say, ‘We’ll perhaps come back another time,’ when the woman seemed to come to a decision, thrusting out her hand in a sweeping motion as she said, ‘Come in then, come in.’
Once in the hall, which again was clean but painted in a dingy brown, Sarah and Peggy followed the woman down the passageway, passing two closed doors on the left and the stairs to their right, to find themselves in a small, square, stone-floored kitchen which was spotlessly clean. And immediately, as though Sarah had made some protest, the little woman swung round, looked directly at her and said, ‘I don’t normally show folks in ’ere, love, but I’m in a bit of a fix. Me old mum’s bin taken bad, an’ she ’as the front room, an’ the doctor’s just talkin’ with me ’usband now in the livin’ room. ’E’ll be finished in a tick if you can ’ang on a while?’
‘Oh yes, yes of course,’ Sarah said quickly, ‘you should have said. We can easily come back another time if you’d prefer, or we’ll wait here while you have a word with the doctor?’
‘No, like I said, ’e’ll be finished in a tick. I just wanted to thank ’im afore ’e went, ’e’s bin so good with ’er, you know? Some of ’em can be right touchy when the old ’uns play up, an’ me mum’s no angel, tell you the truth, but ’e’s bin as patient as Job.’
The sharp little eyes moved over Sarah in her smart suit, and then Peggy at the side of her, and again the little woman seemed to make up her mind about something as she said, ‘Look, love, why don’t you go up an’ ’ave a look at the room yourselves? I wouldn’t ’ave let ’im who was ’ere afore you go up there, bit of a shifty customer me ’usband thought ’e was, but ’e won’t mind two young ladies like yourselves goin’ up. I’ll come up in a minute. You do know the room’s for one?’ she asked Sarah.
‘Oh yes, yes, I do. It’s for Peggy here as it happens, but I wanted to make sure . . . well, that she was somewhere . . .’ Sarah couldn’t think how to put it without sounding offensive.
‘I know what you mean, ducks, don’t you worry. Can’t be too careful in this day an’ age. Me old mum still remembers when Jack the Ripper did away with all them women. She couldn’t ’ave bin much older than this young ’un ’ere, it was nearly sixty years ago now, but right to this day she won’t go out by ’erself after dark. Course, ’e only ’ad them that weren’t any better than they should be, but like she says, when it’s dark an’ there’s no one about, who’s askin’? Bit late after to find out you’ve made a mistake, ain’t it?’
‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
Sarah could feel Peggy shaking at the side of her and she wanted to laugh herself, but she kept her head averted as she turned and followed the woman back down the dark hall.
They had just reached the bottom of the stairs, the woman standing to one side as she said, ‘Me name’s Mrs Cole, by the way,’ when the door to the room they had just passed opened, and a voice could be heard saying, ‘I’ll call in again next week, Mr Cole, but if you need me before then you know where I am.’
And then everything seemed to take on a crystal bright clearness. Peggy just behind her, Mrs Cole’s squat little figure to one side of a large aspidistra in a shiny green tulip-shaped pot, the open door and the tall dark handsome figure emerging from the room.
‘Dr Mallard.’ She must have spoken the name out loud, although she had no conscious recognition of doing so, because his face turned to her, and then he said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite . . . ?’ and the brightness shattered. He hadn’t remembered her.
Chapter Eight
Rodney Mallard had been more than a little irritated when the youngest of the Cole children had banged on the surgery door earlier that afternoon.
The morning surgery had been a full one and the list of home calls endless, and his stalwart housekeeper-cum-receptionist, a big stout lady with a voice like a foghorn but a very warm heart, had had to keep his dinner hot for over an hour. He had just finished his meal and settled down in front of the fire with a cup of tea and the morning paper, when little Bertha Cole had made her presence known.
‘It’s me gran.’ He could hear Bertha’s shrill treble although Mrs Price’s gruffer tones were unclear. ‘Me mum says can the doctor come quick please?’ A pause, and then, ‘But me mum says
now
.’
now
.’
Rodney rose, calling as he did so, ‘It’s all right, Mrs Price, I’ll deal with this,’ and joined his housekeeper in the hall, there to see Bertha Cole dancing about on the doorstep in an agony of urgency.
‘Me mum says
now
, Dr Mallard.’ Bertha was only six but formidable in her own small way. ‘You’ve got to come now, me gran’s bin took bad.’
now
, Dr Mallard.’ Bertha was only six but formidable in her own small way. ‘You’ve got to come now, me gran’s bin took bad.’
‘All right, Bertha, all right.’
Rodney knew better than to argue with this small scrap of humanity; besides which, Bertha’s mother was not one to panic unnecessarily. The grandmother - his main patient in the household - was also too stoical for her own good, constantly playing down her bad heart to the point where it became dangerous. He could appreciate the old lady’s desire to remain as independent as possible, being the same way himself, but in her determination to be autonomous she often pushed her frail body too far.
But he liked her; he liked the dogged old warrior very much, Rodney thought now as he pulled on his overcoat and took his case from Mrs Price, even though she certainly didn’t make his life any easier with her stubbornness. But she was a
real
person somehow; she had grappled with life from childhood like so many of her class, raising a family and living a good life in spite of grinding poverty and a severe lack of education. It was people like Lena who reinforced his conviction that he was where he should be, rather than in a nice private practice doling out sugar lumps and a sympathetic ear to patients who were as healthy as he was.
real
person somehow; she had grappled with life from childhood like so many of her class, raising a family and living a good life in spite of grinding poverty and a severe lack of education. It was people like Lena who reinforced his conviction that he was where he should be, rather than in a nice private practice doling out sugar lumps and a sympathetic ear to patients who were as healthy as he was.
The Coles’ house was only three streets and a few minutes walk away from his surgery, and didn’t necessitate the use of his car, and as Rodney walked along the dirty pavements and narrow back alleyways with the child skipping at his side, he talked easily with his small companion.
Once in the house, he had a brief word with Bertha’s mother before opening the door to his patient’s room, and as he stepped into the limited space it struck him - as it always did when he visited this particular family - that love was a powerful medicine. By rights, the frail old woman in the narrow iron bed by the window should have been dead years ago, but such was her love for this family, and theirs for her, that in spite of her grossly enlarged heart she continued to battle on.
‘’Ad to call you out, did she? I told ’er to leave well alone,’ the quavery old voice gasped slowly.
Rodney shook his head at the old woman whom he had come to understand very well over the two years in which he had been treating her, and his voice was soft but firm as he said, ‘Your daughter was worried about you, and I can understand why. You’re not being fair to her, Lena. You know that, don’t you? Look at you, your lips are blue and you can barely breathe. Now, be a good girl and keep quiet for a minute or two while I examine you, and we’ll go from there.’
He thought he heard her murmur something that sounded very much like, ‘young windsnapper’, but she submitted to his examination without further protest, which in itself told him the old lady must be feeling pretty ill.
Rodney’s brow was creased when he had finished, and when she looked at him and said, ‘Well? I ain’t dead yet, am I?’ it was on the tip of his tongue to bite back, ‘But not for the want of trying,’ before he restrained himself. She was old and she was desperately ill, and she didn’t need him to tell her she had been silly, he thought compassionately.
There was nothing immediately pressing back at the practice, evening surgery still being two hours away, so he sat down and continued to chat with the old lady, knowing it would accomplish more for her general wellbeing than any prescription he could write.
He rose some time later when he heard her son-in-law return from his job as a clicker in one of the local boot and shoe factories, satisfied the old lady was looking better. He was going to have to have a word with Lena’s daughter and son-in-law, much as he disliked the idea, but the old lady was beginning to fail fast and it was only fair to prepare them in some small way for her demise.
He had enjoyed the hour sitting quietly by the glowing fire as much as his patient, he thought now, as he walked through to the hall, and of the two of them it had been a toss-up who needed it most. He had to sort himself out, he couldn’t go on like this, but what could he do? Richard needed him. Certainly, at the moment, Richard needed him. In fact he thought his brother might go mad if he didn’t have him to converse with in the evenings, and as long as they kept off the subject of the war, he could talk as much as Richard wanted him to.
The war . . . He shut his mind from the horror lurking just at the perimeter of his consciousness. The army psychiatrist had told him it would get better in time, that he would be able to let himself remember, bit by bit, and deal with the memories one by one, until the hatred and bitterness were slowly expunged. But then that psychiatrist hadn’t been in the Burma prisoner-of-war camp for two years.
But he was getting better. He knew, deep down, he was getting better. It was mind over matter most of the time, controlling his thoughts and emotions.
He tapped on the living-room door before opening it, and had just poked his head round to say, ‘I wonder if I could have a word with you both before I go?’ when there was a knock at the front door.
‘You tell Bert, Doctor, an’ I’ll be back in a tick.’ Meg, Lena’s daughter, had ushered him in, and herself out, and shut the living-room door behind her, before he had time to say any more.
By the time Rodney had finished gently explaining the situation to Meg’s husband he could tell the little man was upset, so when Mr Cole leant forward and said, ‘She’d ’ave bin a goner months ago if it weren’t for you, Doctor. Thinks the world of you, she does, Meg an’ all,’ he was touched.
When he opened the door into the hall again Rodney was still contemplating the effect her mother’s impending passing would have on Meg, and as he stepped through the doorway his surprise at hearing his name spoken - and in a voice that was definitely not Meg Cole’s - brought his eyes narrowing as he peered into the dim exterior. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite . . . ?’
And then the years dropped away, and he was back in Sunderland again before the war, staring into the delicately beautiful face he remembered so well which was the same and yet strangely different.
The child had grown into a woman . . .
Chapter Nine
‘Don’t give me that. Now, don’t give me that, lass. I might be in me dotage but I’m not that far gone. You walked into a door indeed!’
‘I did, Maggie.’
‘Never! Never, lass.’ In the nine weeks since Sarah had been down south, Maggie had never longed for her more, and the thought of the girl she loved like her own child prompted her to say, ‘What do you think Sarah is going to say when she sees you, eh? She never liked him, did she, an’ by gum she’s been proved right. The swine. It’s one thing to make allowances for the way he talks to you, like you’re a bit of muck, but if he’s started knockin’ you about—’
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