Down Daisy Street (10 page)
‘I think we ought to get help,’ Kathy was saying as Billy’s grunts became a shrill, unstoppable shriek. She was utterly terrified and saw that Jane, too, was frightened, though she was doing her best to hide it. ‘Will Mrs Hughes know what to do? She’s been lookin’ after kids for years.’
‘No! I don’t think so,’ Jane said, swinging the pram round and heading for Daisy Street. ‘We ought to take him straight across to the Stanley. The nurses and doctors there will know how to treat him.’
Kathy agreed and the two girls, hearts thumping, rushed up Daisy Street, across Stanley Road and straight into the hospital. Tommy, tucked under his sister’s arm, was crying steadily, the tears pouring down his cheeks whilst he kept up a constant wail of fear. Kathy had never been so pleased to enter the casualty department as she was at that moment and the sight of a neatly uniformed nurse coming towards them was better, she told herself, than Christmas morning. The nurse did not look at Kathy, however, but at Jane and Tommy. ‘What’s the little devil done this time, then?’ she enquired cheerfully. ‘Fallen out of the pram and bumped his head?’
Jane began to explain but the nurse took one glance into the pram and realised immediately which child was the patient. She scooped Billy up and trotted across the crowded hallway to where a nurse stood sentinel against a door marked
Dr Trelawney.
‘The little lad’s having a fit, Collins,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m taking him to number one cubicle; could you send Dr Trelawney in at once, please?’
Dr Trelawney.
‘The little lad’s having a fit, Collins,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m taking him to number one cubicle; could you send Dr Trelawney in at once, please?’
The two girls followed closely on her heels, Jane with Tommy still in her arms. Kathy’s heart was thumping so loudly that she could scarcely hear her own voice as she prayed to God to let Billy be all right, to let it be just something which happened sometimes and could be easily cured. She watched closely as the nurse laid Billy on a tall, cold-looking bed, holding him still with both hands for, though he seemed calmer, he still jerked now and then. The doctor, entering the cubicle hurriedly, glanced at Billy and then at the two girls. ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Did he have a fall? Has this happened before?’
He was looking at Jane but it was Kathy who answered. ‘He were in hospital with a fractured skull almost a year ago,’ she said briefly. ‘We weren’t doing anything; he and Tommy were quarrelling over a bit of orange peel and Billy suddenly flung himself back and rolled his eyes up and all spit ran down his chin. He made horrible noises – animal noises – and he jerked and twitched so much I couldn’t hold him. Is – is he very ill? He’s my little brother,’ she added unnecessarily.
The doctor had been peering at Billy as she spoke but he glanced up at her and gave a small, sharp nod. ‘Good girl. You’re not one to lose your head,’ he said approvingly. ‘I think your brother may have had a slight epileptic fit but I need to examine him properly and that may take a little while. So you go off and wait in the hall, and when I know what’s going on I’ll come and tell you. And you’re not to worry because this might well be the result of the old injury and may never happen again.’
The nurse shooed them out of the cubicle but it was twenty anxious minutes before the doctor reappeared and came straight over to them, giving what he no doubt considered to be a reassuring smile. ‘I’ve sent the staff nurse to get young Billy’s records so that we can admit him to the ward.’
‘Why can’t I take him home, mister – doctor, I mean? Only me mam is at work and I ought to be getting the tea and there’s a great many messages to fetch . . .’
‘I’m afraid he’ll be here for a little while,’ the doctor said kindly. ‘We shall want to keep him under observation for a day or two. But at any rate, he’s come round now and he’s asking for Kathy – I suppose that’s you? – so you can go up to the ward with him and see him into his bed and then you’d best go and tell your mother what’s been happening.’
He turned away but Kathy caught at his sleeve. ‘Is Billy going to die?’ she asked bluntly. ‘He were ever so ill last year, but when he left hospital the nurses and doctors seemed to think he’d be all right. And he has been . . . until now.’
The doctor turned back. ‘A fractured skull is a tricky injury,’ he said quietly. ‘It was only a hairline fracture and Billy’s young – the younger you are, the easier it is to recover from such an injury – but no one ever knows quite how cranial damage may affect the sufferer. The more we can watch Billy and check his reactions, the better.’
‘I understand. Thank you, doctor,’ Kathy said. She set off in the direction of the cubicle with Jane close beside her, Tommy now asleep in her arms. Kathy’s stomach was hollow with apprehension. She felt as though she were reliving the dreadful time last year when Billy had first cracked his head open and was determined, no matter what the doctor might say, not to fetch her mother out of work unless it was absolutely necessary. When Kathy was overtired and worrying, her dreams often became nightmares so that she saw once more the scene in the timber yard as her father ran out of the building and under the lorry. Once more, the explosion tore the air apart, once more her own screams filled her head . . . no, she would not go to her mother unless it was absolutely essential to do so.
As soon as they reached the cubicle in which Billy was ensconced and saw him, a great many of Kathy’s fears receded, for he was sitting up on the bed and, although looking bewildered and heavy eyed, he smiled widely as soon as he saw her and held up his arms. ‘Gi’ me a cuddle, Kathy,’ he commanded. ‘Why’s I on this bed? I come out o’ hospital, didn’t I? Why’s I back in here?’ His eyes strayed to Jane and the sleeping Tommy. ‘Is it the middle of the night? Tommy’s asleep.’
Jane laughed and sat on the end of the bed and Kathy sat down next to her. ‘Tommy’s asleep because he got rather bored waiting for the doctor to make, you well again,’ Kathy said glibly. ‘Don’t you remember what happened, Billy? You and Tommy were squabbling over something in the pram and – and you must have given your poor old head a knock. But the doctor soon made you well again, didn’t he?’
A small frown etched itself between Billy’s soft brows. ‘I don’t ‘member anything about a pram . . .’ he was beginning when recollection clearly returned. He sat up straighter and scowled at his sleeping friend. ‘It were
my
piece of orange peel,’ he said wrathfully. ‘I were hungry, our Kathy. I were goin’ to scrunch it down ’cos it were ever so old and dry only bleedin’ Tommy snatched it off me. Make him give it back!’
my
piece of orange peel,’ he said wrathfully. ‘I were hungry, our Kathy. I were goin’ to scrunch it down ’cos it were ever so old and dry only bleedin’ Tommy snatched it off me. Make him give it back!’
‘If you swear, you won’t get so much as a sniff of orange peel,’ Kathy said reprovingly, but with a light heart. It was wonderful to hear her little brother sounding so completely normal and demanding his rights. She did not know what an epileptic fit was, though it sounded frightening, and determined to ask the sister just what such fits entailed as soon as she could, but in the meantime she would be able to reassure her mother that Billy was completely himself again and could come home once the doctors had observed him for a day or two.
The two girls remained with Billy for half an hour, and, in fact, only decided to leave because as soon as Tommy woke up Billy grew restive and wanted to get out of bed and rush around the ward with his pal. Fortunately, one of the nurses Billy had particularly liked during his previous stay in hospital came on to the ward just at that point. She walked over and sat on the bed, putting an arm round Billy’s small shoulders. ‘Well, if it isn’t young Mr Trouble,’ she said, winking at Kathy. ‘Did you know we’ve got a new rocking horse in the playroom? And I’ve a tin of chocolate biscuits tucked away in my little kitchen which I give to boys and girls who drink up their bedtime milk. Now, young Billy, you’re in a nasty old hospital nightgown and not looking nearly as smart as you’d like, because when the visitors arrive Sister likes you to look your best, doesn’t she? If Kathy goes off now, we’ll give her leave to come back a quarter of an hour before visiting starts, with a pair of your best pyjamas. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Billy had begun to whimper as soon as Kathy stood up but now he heaved a deep sigh and nodded rather tremulously. ‘Will you stay with me, nurse?’ he asked plaintively. ‘Sister said I won’t be here long if I’m a good boy. Can I go home when me mam comes to visit?’
The nurse plucked Billy carefully from his bed and carried him down the ward beside the two girls, but turned left into the play area, chatting busily to Billy as Kathy, Jane and Tommy slipped out of the swing doors and back on to the corridor. They hurried along since Kathy was mortally afraid of pursuit; whatever would she do if Billy chased after her? But they reached the hall without incident and Jane plonked Tommy back into the pram with a sigh of relief. ‘Wharra great elephant you are,’ she said, seizing the pram handle. ‘I’m awful sorry about Billy, queen, but it’s like I said, he’s in the best place. The doctors and nurses all know him and I’m sure they’ll make him better in no time. Now what should we do? Do you want to go straight round to Dorothy’s Tearooms and tell your mam your Billy’s in hospital or do you want to get the messages?’
‘We’ll get the messages first, then I’ll go home and make the tea so’s Mam can come in to a hot meal. After that, I suppose I’d better go to the tearooms,’ Kathy said, after some thought. ‘Mam doesn’t usually get home until quite late and she mustn’t miss visiting, but there’s no point in worrying her before I have to. Which shop is first on your list?’
The day that Billy returned from hospital, Kathy and her mother sat up late, mulling over what they should do. As soon as Mrs Kelling had returned from visiting Billy on that first evening, she had gone straight round to Mrs Hughes. She had asked the older woman, bluntly, just why she was no longer willing to child mind Billy and after some initial hesitation Mrs Hughes had admitted that Billy had been having ‘queer turns’. Though these had not lasted long and could not, she had said firmly, be described as fits, they had worried her. ‘I’ve got six little ones in me house from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon and it worried me that someone might give young Billy a whack when I weren’t lookin’,’ she confessed. ‘I have me niece, Emmie, to give me a hand but, as you know, she’s simple. Oh, she loves the kids – Billy’s a real favourite wi’ Emmie – but she ain’t reliable when a kid comes over queer. So I thought it best to say I’d not have him no more.’
‘Just what do you mean by “queer turns”?’ Mrs Kelling had asked suspiciously. ‘He never had queer turns at home, not that Kathy and I can recall.’
‘Well, that’s just it. He never threw himself about or screamed, he’d just sit starin’ at the wall with his mouth open, dribbling down his front like a newborn babby for five or ten minutes. You could speak to him, try to give him something, pick him up even, but he wouldn’t take no manner of notice. Then he’d give a sort of shudder and be right as rain, playin’ and shoutin’ with the other kids as though nothing had happened. Which,’ she added judiciously, ‘it hadn’t, if you get my meaning.’
Mrs Kelling had known what she meant but still thought her neighbour had been dilatory in not informing her of such strange behaviour. However, it was no use blaming Mrs Hughes. The doctor had advised that it was best to keep Billy at home with his mother or sister.
‘From what we know of Billy’s condition, a fit can be sparked off by over-excitement, a quarrel or a fight with another child, or even frustration if he is denied something he badly wants,’ Dr Trelawney had said. ‘Fortunately, Mrs Kelling, your son is a healthy young animal with excellent recuperative powers. He may have no more than two or three fits a year and by the time he’s five or six he could have got over them altogether. But until then, you must learn how to deal with those fits so that Billy does not do himself – or anyone else – harm. You say Kathy is sensible and responsible but, in my opinion, Billy will need a mother’s care at least for the next twelve months.’ He had smiled very kindly at Mrs Kelling. ‘I know your circumstances and realise how difficult this may be. Is it possible for you to get work which could be done in the home?’
‘I’ve been thinking about taking lodgers,’ Mrs Kelling had said slowly. ‘We’ve a decent sized house down Daisy Street with three good bedrooms. We could let two of them and Kathy, Billy and meself could share the third. I’m good wi’ me needle but piecework is so poorly paid I’d rather try letting rooms first.’
When this conversation had been repeated to Kathy, she had agreed eagerly that a couple of lodgers would be a good deal better than seeing her mother toiling over piecework from the local garment factory, or addressing endless envelopes or taking in washing. Besides, none of those things paid well at all, and she guessed that if they went down that path she would have to give up her place at the high school. Despite her busy home life, she was nearly always top of her class and her teachers were predicting a bright future, maybe even a university place. She knew her mother would work her fingers to the bone rather than see Kathy take a third rate job in a shop or office and thought that losing the privacy of their home would be a small price to pay to avoid that.
‘Fortunately, your father’s little pension pays the rent each week, so if we can get a couple of nice lady lodgers who are in steady work, then we should all manage very nicely,’ Mrs Kelling told her daughter. ‘I’ll be at home all day, looking after Billy, so there’ll be no question of you having to make lodgers’ meals, though I’ll appreciate your help in keeping the rooms clean and the washing and so on done. If you agree, you can write out a notice in your best handwriting, and copy it out twice. We’ll take one copy down to the
Echo
office and purrit in the paper. It’ll cost a bob or two, but I reckon we’ll get a better class of lodger that way. The other copy can go into Mr Snelling’s shop on Stanley Road – it’s right near the hospital and the nurses pop in and out all the time. A nurse for a lodger would be ideal because, though you and I are to go up to the hospital so that they can teach us what to do when Billy’s took bad, a nurse would kind of know instinctively, wouldn’t you think?’
Echo
office and purrit in the paper. It’ll cost a bob or two, but I reckon we’ll get a better class of lodger that way. The other copy can go into Mr Snelling’s shop on Stanley Road – it’s right near the hospital and the nurses pop in and out all the time. A nurse for a lodger would be ideal because, though you and I are to go up to the hospital so that they can teach us what to do when Billy’s took bad, a nurse would kind of know instinctively, wouldn’t you think?’
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