Barefoot and Lost (40 page)

     The ten miles has taken us two and a half hours and is going to take more on the way back, because of the White Hart hill. Beside the post office we find a telephone box where
Michael
rings his mum. ‘Did you ask your mum to phone
June
?’

     ‘Sorry, forgot.’

     ‘Hell, you’re useless how could you forget?’

     ‘Well I just did; why don’t you ring her yourself?’

     ‘Yeah
, perhaps I will when we leave here, so they will know when to expect us.’

     ‘I have to be home before tea at six, what about you?’

     ‘
June
never said, but it will take us three hours to get back so we will have to leave at three.’

     ‘That gives us three hours to explore, I’m hungry, and I’m going to eat my sandwich now.’

     ‘Okay, let’s buy a drink and find somewhere we can sit.’

     I have tried telephoning but cannot get a reply, perhaps June is out, it is strange, Reg is always there, perhaps he is in the garden, or upstairs and can’t get to the phone, with his gammy leg it takes him ages to get anywhere , Michael has asked his mum to call Reg in half an hour.

     The walk up White Hart hill is a lot harder than we expected, it has taken us nearly forty five minutes. We are both very thirsty, not thinking to save any drink from lunch. We prop our bikes against the pub sign that squeaks as it swings slowly in the breeze. ‘I am going to ask if we can have that pint’

     ‘
Phil
don’t be stupid, she said children aren’t allowed inside, how will you ask for a drink’

     ‘I’ll think of something, are you coming?’

     ‘No I’ll look after the bikes’

     ‘
Michael
, you are gutless, who the hell is going to pinch them, there is no one here’

     ‘Well I don’t want to, anyway I’m not thirsty now and we had better hurry or we will be late home’

     ‘Well bugger off on your own then
,
I’m getting a drink’ Michael sulks but makes no attempt to leave. 

     Pushing open the front door that looks like it should be the entrance to a castle I can see two men sitting at a table talking both with a beer in front of them. They both look up as I open the door wider. ‘Excuse me mister, could you ask the lady to get me and my friend a drink of water, please, I am not allowed to come inside’

      ‘Do you not want a beer son?’

      ‘No thank you I don’t like beer’

      ‘What about lemonade then’ the other man asks

      ‘We haven’t any money mister; we spent it on our lunch’

      ‘Then water it will have to be, hang on while I get it for you, and shut the door you’re letting in a draft’

     The man returns with two pint glasses of lemonade. ‘We can’t pay for those mister I told you we haven’t any money’

     ‘On the house son, the landlady said she promised you a pint this morning; just leave the glasses on the window ledge’

     ‘Thank you very much and tell the lady thank you, she is very kind’

     ‘She’s not that kind we have to pay for ours don’t we
Bert
’ he closes the door’

     ‘
Michael
has your thirst come back or do I have to drink both of these?’

     ‘How did you manage that?’

     ‘I asked for water and the lady has given us lemonade free, it must be my charm.’ We sit on the bench drinking our pints,
Michael
hasn’t even said thank you, and I wouldn’t care if I never spoke to him again. We travel the rest of our journey in silence only saying goodbye when he turned up the Ridgeway.   

     ‘Hello, I’m home’, Jet leaps out of his basket,
Connie
is cooking
Alan
is sitting in Reg’s chair.

    ‘Oh
Phillip
, thank God you are home.’ I look around there is no sign of
June
or Reg,

    ‘What’s wrong, where is everybody?’

    ‘
Phillip
; Reg has had a stroke and is seriously ill in hospital,
June
is with him.’

    ‘A stroke, what’s that, is he going to die?’

    ‘A blood clot on the b
rain, I don’t know how he is,
and the
ambulance took him to hospital at lunch time.
June
has asked me to stay overnight to look after things here; we can only hope he will pull through.’

     ‘My Gran had a blood clot in her heart and she died, I don’t want Reg to die, why wouldn’t he go to hospital. He was just like Gran, she wouldn’t go either, stupid bugger.’

    ‘
Phillip
I know how you must feel but don’t use that sort of language in front of
Alan
.’

    ‘Oh shut up Connie, you can’t protect Alan all his life, he has to grow up sometime; bloody, bugger, shit, there, he has learnt two more words.’ Storming out of the room, slamming the door
,
before it closes
behind me
I see the shocked look on Connie’s face and the grin on Alan’s. On my way to my room,
in the hall I pass my bike and get the idea to go to the hospital, I’m not sure where it is but, after a couple of wrong turns, I ask a man walking a dog, he points me in the right direction.

     At the reception the lady behind the counter seems not to notice me and prefers to look in a filing cabinet. ‘Excuse me,’ she continues to look in the cabinet ‘EXCUSE ME,’

     ‘No need to shout, this is a hospital you know, can I help you?’

     ‘My D
ad is here, he has had a stroke, and I need to see him.’

     ‘What is his name, when was he brought in?’

     ‘This afternoon, his name is
Reginald
Milligan
.’ She runs her finger down a register,

     ‘Ah yes, he is in the trauma unit but I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him, no visitors are allowed in there.’

     ‘My M
um is here, can I go to her?’

     ‘Second floor, turn right at the top of the stairs, at the end of the corr
idor is a visitor’s room; your M
um is probably there.’ After taking the stairs two at a time I can see June, sitting by herself, her head in her hands.

     ‘
June
it’s me, how is Reg?’
   

     ‘Oh
Phillip
you are an angel, how thoughtful of you to come, I really need some support right now.’

     ‘How is he?’ looking at her watch
June
replies,

     ‘Just over an hour ago they told me he was holding his own, the Sister said, at this stage its touch and go, so we just have to wait, and hope Reg is strong enough to pull through.’

     With a faint squeak the door opens, a short, fat, middle aged man wearing a white coat enters, ‘
Mrs.
Milligan
, I’m Doctor Lombard, about your husband
Reginald
.’

     ‘Yes Doctor, is Reg going to be alright?’

     ‘It’s early days to know just how Reg will be, it is almost certain there is some damage, the next forty eight hours is critical; we are keeping him under sedation to give him a better chance to overcome the effects of a cerebral haemorrhage.’

    ‘When you say damage, what sort of damage?’

    ‘There could be p
aralysis, or a speech defect, that sort of thing. They could be very slight and, in those cases, quite often correct themselves. My concern is you
Mrs.
Milligan, there is nothing you can do here, you would be far better off if you were to go home, try to rest and be strong for Reg when he comes around and needs your support.’

     ‘Come on Mum, lets go home, I’ll give you a ride on my cross bar.’
June
takes my hand giving it a squeeze; hand in hand we walk out into the cool night air.

     ‘Do you mind if I don’t sit on your cross bar, can we just walk instead?’

     Starting back to school today, I have been looking forward to seeing Michael to see if he is over his sulk, but within ten minutes we were arguing again, this time he has taken a huff because I didn’t spend time with him over the weekend, I told him I thought we weren’t talking after our disagreement at the pub, now we really are not talking but I expect we will get over it. 

     The last three days have been hectic, I have been helping Connie, who doesn’t appear to be very well organized, she gets flustered quickly and then everything starts to go wrong, she then is very quick to blame others, Gran just did it and never complained; I really miss her. June has spent all day, everyday at the hospital, not that she can do anything, but I think she wants to be nearby if Reg needs her.

     Saturday night was the last performance of the Opera and by lunchtime yesterday they had all packed and gone. The house is silent again, no more bursts of song, ‘I am the very model of a modern Major-General’ echoing from the bathrooms. I never did get to see them perform,
June
couldn’t go,
Connie
wouldn’t go because it would have meant that
Alan
would have got to bed too late, and I couldn’t go on my own. I wanted to ask Pop and
Tess
but Friday is a bad day for them.
June
said it would be inappropriate to be enjoying ourselves when Reg is so ill in hospital. I can’t see how Reg, will be affected if we went but, never mind; I expect there will be other times.

   
It is just over three weeks since Reg had his stroke; June has cancelled the contract with the White Rock Theatre. Connie has gone to work
for the guest house in
Havelock Road
that has taken on the contract.
June
is now spending all day at the hospital, supposedly in her previous roll as a Red Cross volunteer, helping out on the wards, but, of course, this keeps her close to Reg.

     She is hoping he is coming home next week but she is worried how she will cope because Reg is not able to walk, he is in a wheelchair. The stroke has left him paralyzed on his right side, which is unfortunate because this was his good side, his speech is also affected, when you ask him a question you can tell he understands, his eyes tell you so, but when he answers only gibberish comes out, his words are all jumbled. Sometimes he bursts into laughter for no reason and then seems to look around to see who laughed. 

     I helped
June
dismantle their bed, from their bedroom on the fourth floor, then reassemble it in the living room at ground level. There is no toilet on this floor, it would be impossible to install one so she has bought a commode, which she has placed behind the door, with one of those folding screens around it.

     Our routine has been having breakfast together; I go to school and have my dinner there
.
When I get h
ome around four thirty, I take J
et for a walk, make a cup of tea
,
and usually have a piece of toast while I do my home work.
June
gets home at six; she makes tea, usually a sandwich. Weekdays I walk down to Pop’s,
June
goes back to the hospital, we both get home around nine, we go to bed, and next day we start all over again. I’m spending more time with Pop and
Tess
than I am with
June
, she seems so preoccupied with being with Reg she doesn’t have time for me. I am worried that when Reg does come home, the only time she will have for me is when I’m helping her look after Reg. 

     I don’t think I’m being selfish, but I’m worried that
Miss
Peabody
will come and take me and send me to a home somewhere. Last week I tried to speak to
June
about my fears, she got quite angry, telling me not to be so selfish and consider other people for a change. ‘How can you think of yourself when poor Reg could be dying, would you feel different if he were your real father?’ I didn’t know what to say, I’d like to think she didn’t mean it that it was only the stress that made her say those things, so I said nothing and went to my room and wrote to Awful, kidding myself that I was only writing to tell him about Reg.