Georgia (25 page)

‘Don’t be silly,’ Georgia forced a laugh. ‘You’ll feel better in a day or two. The doctors know better than you do. Trust them Helen.’

‘Easy to say,’ Helen muttered.

‘Sister said they’ll be sending you off to a convalescent home after here. That will be like a holiday. I wish I could have a few weeks lying around.’

‘You’d make a worse patient than me,’ Helen said tartly. ‘And don’t try to patronize me Georgia, I’ve lived with pain most of my life and when I say this is terrible, you can believe it.’

Even though Helen never complained, Georgia was sure she was feeling sorry for herself.

‘If you want to be like that I’ll go home,’ Georgia said, convinced she could shame her friend out of it. ‘I came to see how you were and spend time with you. Not for you to jump on every word I say.’

‘Please go,’ Helen said, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘I expect I’ll feel better in the next day or two, but right now I’m not fit company for a dog.’

‘I can’t go,’ Georgia felt tears pricking her eyelids. ‘Not when you’re like this.’

Helen sighed deeply, forcing a watery smile.

‘Come back tomorrow, Georgia,’ she turned her head into the pillow.

Georgia bent over the bed and kissed Helen on the cheek.

‘I love you,’ she said softly. ‘You’re like a sister to me. Don’t think you can get rid of me so you can feel all alone, because I’ll be back tomorrow and the next day.’

She turned and walked quickly away, tears coursing down her cheeks.

It was only when she was downstairs in the street that she remembered Peter’s words to her after the rape. ‘I’ll come day after day, till you’re sick of me.’ He hadn’t got the chance to carry out his threat, she’d gone almost before he got home, and when she’d looked him up, he had someone else.

On both Monday and Tuesday evening Georgia went straight to the hospital from work. Helen was still very low and in a great deal of pain. Although she was pleased to see Georgia she was apathetic and touchy.

‘Don’t think you’ve got to come here every night,’ she said, trying hard to smile. ‘I know you must be tired and hungry.’

‘But I like coming.’

That wasn’t true, she hated it. The smell of the hospital made her queasy. Drips, oxygen masks, bedpans and syringes all hinted at things she didn’t want to understand. She couldn’t think of anything to say and even though she loved Helen, she couldn’t bear to see her in pain.

‘Go on home,’ Helen said, turning her face away. ‘I want to sleep anyway.’

Bert was just about to close up the café as Georgia got back, on an impulse Georgia put her head round the door.

‘Come and see the room,’ she begged him. ‘Helen’s been a real grouch. I’ll go mad if I don’t talk to someone.’

‘Okay,’ he smiled, guessing her request had more to do with worry about Helen than wanting to show her room off. ‘Put the kettle on, we’ll be up in a jiffy!’

‘Blimey ducks, what a difference!’ Babs gasped as she came in, quickly followed by Bert.

Big was the only way to describe her, wide hips, sagging bosom, hands and feet. Even her features were big, from her sharp eyes, her nose and a sloppy, shapeless, humorous mouth. If Georgia’s features had been carved with a scalpel, Babs’s had been shaped by a trowel. Yet it was an interesting, mobile face for all that, and her clothes enhanced her slovenly, yet colourful image.

Today, she wore a red jumper and a bright blue skirt, topped with a washed-out yellow pinny. Thick stockings with a hole hastily botched together, and a fraying wisp of pink petticoat trailed behind her.

‘What a little palace ducks. Don’t seem like the same room do it? Helen’s going to be knocked out.’

Babs stood still, hands on her ample hips, her sharp eyes taking in every last detail.

‘She’s done this for Helen,’ she thought. ‘And I was the one who thought she’d be trouble when she turned up out of nowhere.’

‘You’ve done great,’ Bert cast his eyes round the room as if hoping to find something to criticise. ‘Not bad for a little ’un.’

‘If the singing don’t work you could always take up decorating,’ Babs chuckled. She put one big hand on Georgia’s shoulder. ‘Now tell us. ’Ow is she?’

‘Still very poorly,’ Georgia’s face fell, a doleful look back in the big dark eyes. ‘I just wish she’d look on the bright side of things. They say everything is healing well, but I don’t think she believes them.’

‘We was going up there Friday,’ Bert said. ‘I thought she was a fighter. She was always chirpy before, no matter what. If only she ’ad some family.’

‘She ’as,’ Babs said rather sharply. ‘Everyone up the market cares, and she’s got Georgia. I’ll ’ave to tell her a few ’ome truths.’

‘Don’t be sharp with her,’ Georgia turned to Babs, surprised by her tone. Babs was a mother figure to everyone. ‘We just have to love her out of it. The thing I’m most worried about is that she won’t be able to come to the Acropolis to see me. Not for me,’ she added quickly. ‘But she was dead set on having a lovely new dress and everything.’

‘Well we’ll just ’ave to jog her memory,’ Bert said, gazing appreciatively round the room. ‘Maybe if she’s got some goal in her mind she’ll buck up.’

Georgia made them both some tea.

‘Do you mind if I paint the wardrobe and stuff?’ she asked. She wanted something more to fill up the empty hours till Helen came home. ‘They look a bit scruffy now.’

‘Course you can love,’ Bert sank into one of the armchairs and winced as a spring shot up into his behind. ‘I think we can find a better couple of chairs an’ all.’

‘Really?’ Georgia leant over him and kissed him on the cheek impulsively.

He smiled across at his wife. ‘Those green ’uns would look a treat in ’ere wouldn’t they?’

Babs laughed, her wide mouth showing blackened teeth. ‘I should take lessons from you in ’ow to get round my old man.’

Helen was propped up in bed on Thursday night when Georgia went in as usual. A book open on the sheet in front of her and a huge basket of flowers by her bed from the stallholders in the market. Dozens of cards were propped up everywhere.

Once again she reminded Georgia of those ladies in old paintings. Her hair showering over the shoulders of the white, almost Victorian nightdress. Her eyes were still listless, but there was a faint hint of pink in her cheeks.

‘I’m never going to walk again,’ she said gloomily.

‘Who said so?’ Georgia gasped.

‘No one. I just know. They all feel sorry for me but it doesn’t help.’

Georgia was torn two ways. Although Helen looked small and vulnerable in the big bed she knew her friend was tough. Should she sympathize and continue to let her wallow in self pity? Or should she be brutal to make her snap out of it?

‘There’s only one person who can make you walk again and that’s you.’

The moment the sharp words were out she felt a deep shame, but it was too late to retract them.

‘You think you are so bloody clever, don’t you?’ Helen sniffed. ‘Everything you want comes to you. I bet you’re glad I’m in here, I expect you have friends round every night, glad I’m not around to interfere.’

‘Oh yes, I’m having a ball,’ Georgia shot back. ‘I come here straight from work, tired and hungry and go back to an empty room alone.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ Helen pursed up her small mouth. ‘I’m not stupid, even if I’m crippled, every night you’ve been here you can’t wait to get out!’

Georgia just stared at Helen in shock.

‘That’s not true,’ she said weakly. ‘But if you’re going to be like that, I will go.’

‘Go on then,’ Helen’s cheeks were flushed. ‘Go down and see Janet, she makes you laugh. Ask her to take you down the strip club.’

‘All right, I will,’ Georgia turned away from the bed, colour draining from her cheeks. ‘If you think that little of me, then I won’t come back until you ask me to. Goodbye!’

She had made some curtains during the day at work when Pop wasn’t watching. They were only cheap dress cotton but colourful and bright. She had been looking forward to hanging them, but now she felt resentful and bitter.

‘I don’t know why I’m bothering,’ she said, her voice echoing around the room. ‘Heaven knows I’m doing all I can for her.’

She hung them anyway, tidied up and then crawled into bed feeling depressed and guilty.

‘I shouldn’t have walked out like that,’ she said to herself. ‘I should have told her what I had been doing.’

As Bert and Babs were going to see Helen the next evening she went home instead with Janet. She’d had enough of her own company and a bit of laughter seemed the perfect antidote.

‘You did the right thing,’ Janet reassured her. ‘Leave her be till tomorrow, she’ll have come round then. Poor kid, I expect she’s feeling as bad about it as you.’

It was after eleven when she walked home, still chuckling to herself about Janet’s family, when she spotted a policeman knocking on the door where she lived.

Her first reaction was to run. For the last year police had been her biggest fear and she still hadn’t quite got over it.

But reason got the better of her and she crossed over to where he stood, one hand on the bell.

He was young, male, surely she could think of some way to wriggle out of any trouble.

‘Can I help?’ she asked, smiling brightly up into his lean face, batting her eyelashes when she realized he was nice-looking in a rather severe way. ‘I live here.’

‘I’m trying to find Georgia James,’ he said, blushing a little under her scrutiny.

‘That’s me,’ she said taking out her key.

‘I’ve been asked to take you to the Middlesex Hospital,’ he said. ‘You have a friend –’

‘Helen?’ she interrupted him, no longer caring if he looked like a film star. She turned pale under the street light. ‘Has she?’ she paused unable to say the word.

‘She’s very ill,’ he said gently, his brown eyes grave as he removed his helmet. ‘She’s been asking for you. Can you come now?’

He bundled her into a car and drove off at speed.

Georgia prayed silently as the car sped along the near empty streets.

‘What time were you called?’ she asked him.

‘Around eight thirty,’ he said, glancing across at her, seeing the big tears squeezing out from under her long lashes. ‘It seems two other people had visited her earlier. She was poorly then but got worse after they left. I’ve been all round the neighbourhood trying to find you.’

‘It’s the first night I’ve been out other than to visit her.’ Georgia was crying now. ‘I was nasty to her yesterday too. Oh God, please don’t let her die!’

‘Now calm down,’ he said soothingly. ‘People often have ups and downs after ops, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll die. Besides you must go in there with a confident face, be strong for her. Is it the little redhead with the bad leg?’

‘Yes, do you know her?’ Somehow it was comforting to think this young policeman knew about her.

‘Only by sight,’ he said softly. ‘Plucky little thing, always smiling even when she was frozen solid on that stall. Give her my regards won’t you?’

Georgia ran like the wind once inside the hospital. Up the stairs two at a time, her hair streaming out behind her like a black flag.

It was quiet, the corridors deserted. The lights turned down for the night, bathed in a soft glow. There was none of the hustle and bustle of the day, just the odd clang of a bedpan on the sluice, and the tip-tapping sound of nurses’ shoes on the polished floor.

‘Sister!’ she called as she turned the corner and saw a familiar back view.

Sister Hall turned at her name, and came quickly towards Georgia, her hands outstretched. The thin tall woman had concern in every line of her body.

‘Oh Georgia, I’m so glad they could find you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Helen’s very sick I’m afraid.’

‘Why?’ Georgia’s eyes grew huge with fright, filling up with tears. ‘She was doing so well.’

The sister smoothed down her apron, her lips quivering as if unable to find the right words.

‘We discovered an infection had set in earlier today, she was a bit feverish and we gave her more antibiotics. But her heart is weak too. We knew this before we operated and she fully understood the risk. Now it’s her heart which is giving up.’

‘Is she going to die?’

Sister put one hand on Georgia’s shoulder. Her expression saying it all.

‘I’m afraid so,’ she whispered, he eyes glinting with tears.

Georgia just stared at the Sister.

‘But she can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve painted our room and everything.’

Sister half smiled.

‘I wish everyone could be cured with something so simple,’ she said softly. ‘Helen’s a very brave girl. She has moaned to you because you were the only one she had. Go on in there now and try to comfort her. Tell her how much you care.’

Georgia had no experience with death. She stood for a moment trying to collect herself. She had faced the fact that Helen could possibly be left more crippled than she was before, but never had the possibility of her dying entered her head.

Everything about the hospital seemed strange and dreamlike. The silent, empty corridors, the yellowish night lights, the smell of antiseptic. She blinked, hoping she was merely dreaming it, and that any moment she would find herself back in bed.

Helen had been moved to a small room at the end of the ward, partitioned off with glass, curtains all round.

She was very still, ghostly pale. Her hair cascaded over the pillow like molten lava, her eyes closed, golden lashes lying on her cheeks. Arms as thin as sticks on the sheet, the long slender fingers which normally moved constantly, still and white.

Her mouth looked like a young child’s, so small and innocent, perfectly shaped, lips slightly parted.

Georgia crept to the side of the bed and leaned over her friend.

‘Helen,’ she said softly.

Her eyes opened.

‘Georgia,’ she said weakly, struggling to move.

‘Stay where you are,’ Georgia put one restraining hand on Helen’s shoulder, feeling only bone under the white nightdress. She touched Helen’s face lightly with one gentle caress. ‘What sort of time is this to want to see a friend?’

Helen’s lips moved faintly in a flicker of amusement.

‘Did you get the curtains up?’