Isobel on the Way to the Corner Shop (26 page)

‘No,’ said Miss Landers. ‘Indeed it doesn’t.’ She sighed. ‘Isobel, dear, I mustn’t keep you standing.’ She moved the chair from behind her table and Isobel sat. ‘I was just hoping, you know, that you might think of something.’

It was astonishing, even disturbing, that Isobel cared so much to succeed in this small enterprise. Of course she wanted to help poor Miss Landers, but there was more to it than that, and worse. It’s no big deal, she said to herself, knowing that it was a far bigger deal than it should have been.

‘It’s not such a bad colour, if you forget about socks for soldiers. Do you have any white?’

‘Only baby wool. Or 2-ply.’

‘I could double the 2-ply. Suppose I knitted a plain sweater with the Basques and the cuffs and neck band in white, and then sewed a flower onto the shoulder. In white, I mean. It might work. You could keep it for a sample and see if you get any takers.’

Miss Landers brightened.

‘There might be other colours that would go. We could look through the bins.’

‘Good idea.’

The bins were filled with odd quantities of left-over wool donated by the Red Cross. Two ounces would do, they agreed, for the contrast colour.

They spent a companionable hour rummaging in the bins, each holding a skein of the khaki wool against possible contrasts.

They agreed that turquoise was perfect, accepted baby blue, shuddered at lemon, considered and rejected pale green, had an unexpected success with pale beige, of which there were eight whole ounces, a bonanza.

‘Oh, Isobel!’ Miss Landers spoke impulsively. ‘It’s wonderful to have somebody to take an interest. It’s so discouraging always. I’m just sure this is going to work. Just giving people something that they’ll like…it isn’t easy.’

Positively, Isobel blushed.

‘I’ll need patterns for the flowers. Do you have any books on Irish crochet?’

Miss Landers laughed.

‘You truly are a surprise. Irish crochet! I never would have thought it.’

‘My grandmother was Irish. She taught me. I’ll never be as good as she was, but I can manage most of the motifs.’

‘I’ll look through the leaflets.’

‘If we don’t have anything, Mrs Kent can find us something in town. We’ll make up kits. I’ll keep the Koala boxes. This is fun.’

She looked at her watch and said in alarm, ‘Oh, Isobel! It’s nearly lunch time. You should have been back half an hour ago.’

Isobel was counting out skeins of khaki and white.

‘This is important, too. We’re not just walking lungs.’

‘I’ll get you a chair. You must be tired out.’

Indeed, Isobel could not face the prospect of walking back to C Ward.

She nodded.

Miss Landers hurried out to Reception to put in a call for a chair.

Maybe, if this works, thought Isobel, I’ll have enough credit to get some help for the boys. English lessons for Garry, for a start.

There ought to be more to occupational therapy than knitting and weaving.

‘Somebody must be leaving,’ said Miss Landers, when she returned with the information that the chair would be there in five minutes. ‘There are two suitcases in Reception. “I wonder who’s going?” I asked Clare, but she said Max had just put the suitcases there and said nothing.’

‘Maybe Max knows. You could ask him. He must have got the suitcases out of the luggage room.’

‘I don’t think it’s quite the thing to ask Max.’

‘Well, we’ll know soon enough.’

There was no need for apprehension though Isobel had been so long away. Everyone was preoccupied. Sister Connor was flushed and agitated. She did not notice the time of Isobel’s return.

Katie had left. Her wardrobe was empty, her toothbrush and soap dish were gone from the basin, her cabinet too was bare.

Now Isobel understood that Katie had been moved from C Ward so that execution could be carried out in reasonable privacy.

She was glad to have work on hand to divert her from the thought of Katie’s terror, Sister Connor’s distress—it would certainly be Sister Connor who had faced the unpleasant job of evicting Katie, who must now be having lunch in the dining room and, after that, waiting unwillingly for the bus that would take her to the station, where she must take the train to the bleak, unwelcoming city.

‘So you’re back. And about time,’ Sister Connor did snap at her.

Isobel forgave the irritable tone.

‘Mrs Soames will be moving in with you.’

‘Oh, great!’ Isobel’s delight was tempered by astonishment. ‘But isn’t she post-operative?’

Post-operative moved either out or to the upper ward.

‘Talk about something you know something about,’ said Sister Connor.

‘Sorry, I’m sure.’

Isobel, still forgiving, thought that the scene with Katie must have been very unpleasant indeed.

Sister Connor said, ‘Oh, don’t mind me. It’s been a bit of a day. And I have to get the girls back to make the bed up again. Sometimes people just don’t think.’

‘I wasn’t worried.’

‘I don’t know why I have to be picking on you, when I want you to do me a favour.’

Clearly, it was a difficult favour to ask. She looked at Isobel in honest remorse.

‘Come on. Out with it.’

‘Will you give up your place in the bath queue to Mrs Soames? The doctors don’t want her to be disturbed early in the morning.’

‘You mean back to square one, cold-water country?’

‘I’m afraid so. I don’t say, “Would you mind?” because of course you mind. But there it is. This,’ she added, ‘is what comes of making yourself popular with doctors.’

‘Well,’ said Isobel, with sincerity, ‘I think it’s a very healthy sign when they start neglecting your health and comfort. I’ll bear up.’

Sister Connor smiled at her in relief.

‘There are worse around here than you.’

When Diana arrived with the lunch tray, she said, ‘Lost your room mate.’

‘I don’t think she wanted to go.’

Diana set down a plate of stew in front of Isobel and waited for information.

‘How did she take it?’

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t here. I was round in the stock room with Miss Landers sorting wool.’

‘Do you think they got you out of the way on purpose? Gee, did they think they’d have to use force?’

Diana’s eyes shone.

‘No. I think it was just coincidence.’

She was very glad of the coincidence, for she would have had to describe the painful scene to Diana, who showed her disappointment.

‘Who’s moving in, do you know?’

‘Elsa Soames.’

‘But isn’t she post-op? She had a thora.’

Isobel had a nugget to offer.

‘There’s something up. I have to give up my place in the bath queue for her. Go back to the top of the queue. Cold-water country.’

‘That’s a bit rough. Was that Sister Connor’s idea?’

‘No. I think that came from higher up.’

‘Oh, ho!’ Diana was amused. ‘It doesn’t do to get too pally with the high brass, dear. They take advantage.’

Isobel picked up her knife and fork, prepared to end the conversation.

‘I’d a damn sight rather they were fussing about her than fussing about me.’

‘You’re right there.’

Diana departed to carry lunch trays and the news along the ward.

After lunch Tamara arrived, alone and in a bad temper, carrying clean linen for the bed by the window.

‘Made this bed once this morning and my shift over, Elaine gone already. Some people no consideration.’

She punished pillows and wrenched at sheets.

‘Why you no take this bed? Should have when Val left.’

‘I never move fast enough.’

Tamara laughed aloud, anger forgotten.

‘Me neither. Never move fast enough. That’s good. Like Elaine gets bus and I get caught. Some people, they always move fast, get there first. You know this lady come in?’

‘I met her once on the verandah. She’s had a thora.’

Elaine must have caught the same bus to town as Katie. Poor Katie, the only one who could see the little girl in the mirror, the little girl with the fever which never got better.

‘And wash down cabinet, pooh,’ said Tamara. ‘Is orderly’s work. They think they are God, I suppose?’

She straightened the bedcover and departed.

After such portents, Isobel waited in awe for the arrival of Mrs Soames.

She came by wheelchair, Max driving, Diana following with a handcase, Doctor Wang walking beside the chair.

‘You will be happy here, I am sure. You will find Isobel a serious and agreeable companion.’

His eyes turned towards Isobel were, however, unseeing.

I’ll pump you tomorrow, thought Isobel. I’m not going back to cold baths for nothing.

‘Thank you, doctor.’

She did not recognise Isobel’s existence, but that gave no offence. It was clear that she was absorbing bad news.

Diana helped her out of the chair, out of her royal blue velvet dressing gown and into bed.

She hung the dressing gown in the wardrobe and unpacked the hand case. On the cabinet top she set out an interesting array of accompaniments to the hospital diet: black peppercorns in a small grinder, salt crystals in another, a jar of mustard and small jars of sauces which Isobel did not recognise.

One kept one’s sputum mug out of sight and used it with discretion and concern for others. Diana put Mrs Soames’s sputum mug in the cabinet, incongruous next to a silver-backed hand mirror and a matching brush and comb.

When Mrs Soames moved in, she took possession.

Isobel wound white 2-ply and wondered what was required of her.

At the moment, it seemed, nothing.

Mrs Soames lay back and closed her eyes.

Diana, with a speaking look at Isobel, departed.

Mrs Soames remained silent and quiescent through rest period, afternoon tea and the hour before dinner.

Sister Knox brought in a special meal of omelette and bread and butter.

‘You must eat, you know.’

‘Of course. Really, this is most kind.’

‘And you’ve met our Isobel. You’ll love her. She’s quite a favourite.’

Bloody liar, thought Isobel. What are they trying to sell to the poor woman?

‘We had met.’

Mrs Soames nodded and smiled.

‘You introduced me to Belloc.’

‘Oh,’ said Sister Knox, somewhat confused. ‘That’s all right, then.’

Doctor Wang came in with Sister Knox on evening rounds and asked if Mrs Soames was comfortable.

‘She ate a nice omelette for dinner, Doctor,’ said Sister Knox, managing to give the impression that she had fed her the omelette spoonful by affectionate spoonful.

Isobel was delighted to see on Mrs Soames’s face the glimmer of a smile.

When Mrs Soames got up to go to the bathroom before Lights Out, Isobel got up to fetch her dressing gown. That was a mistake.

‘I must not be a burden to you, my dear. I am truly quite capable of looking after myself. I am sorry not to have been communicative. I had some disappointing news, and the move was tiring.’

Isobel retired, relieved. After all, the woman was on C grade, like herself. But not, like herself, on the way up.

Next morning on the verandah, Isobel took advantage of a moment of privacy to ask Wang, ‘What gives with Mrs Soames?’

Wang was silent. To discuss one patient with another was against the law.

‘Just tell me what face I must wear.’

‘A sober one, my dear.’

‘What about the thora?’

He shook his head.

‘Let us say, and for your ears only, that the operation did not have the desired effect.’ He added, with irritation, ‘It has never happened before.’

‘What must I do?’

‘Nothing, truly. Just respond if she speaks, give help where you can, I mean, physical help if she needs it. Most of all she needs quiet, and so, by the way, do you. She will I think remain reserved. It is a disappointment.’

And that was an understatement.

‘Isobel.’

‘Yes?’

‘This does not have any relevance to your case. It is asking a lot of you, the situation, but we thought, you have resources. You must not allow it to depress you.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’

‘I am telling you more than I should. We don’t know the future, except that she cannot leave, may not progress beyond C grade. You can be trusted to be considerate. I hope you can be trusted to…maintain your own good spirits. Where else can we put her, my dear? But I don’t want this to depress you.’

I’m to share a room with a dying woman and he’s telling me far more than he should because…well, to prepare me.

‘She is a very fine woman, with wonderful manners. And remember that you are a writer.’

Yes, she thought sadly. But whatever became of youth?

‘Too much is asked of you, in my opinion,’ said Sister Connor, when Mrs Soames had been wheeled up to Medical. ‘And I told him so, straight. It’s not right for anyone your age to have the responsibility. All he said was, “Oh, she’ll cope.” Never can tell him anything he doesn’t want to know. Oh, God, forget I said that.’

‘It’s forgotten. And I’m not a baby. I’m twenty-one. Doctor Wang says I only have to remember that she needs quiet. And he said that would do me good, too. Rather pointed, I thought.’

‘Well, you haven’t exactly distinguished yourself. But that isn’t the point.’

On this she did not care to elaborate. Instead, she sighed and said, ‘We’ll just have to keep our eyes open.’

Elsa Soames in her gentle, whispering voice said, ‘I’m not a very suitable companion for a young girl, I’m afraid.’

Though she had for a moment entertained the same thought, Isobel answered, ‘What’s so hot about being young? It’s the same old world for young and old.’

‘Yes, so it is.’

Elsa nodded, smiled and closed her eyes.

The atmosphere in Room 2 was now as quiet as she might ever have wished.

Elsa joined them sometimes on the verandah, to listen in silence.

When she stayed in bed, no-one commented on her absence.

Eily had made D grade and came dressed in a red and white striped shirt and a narrow black skirt, her thin waist cinched with a black patent belt, her feet in high-heeled black sandals. She had done up her hair in a smooth chignon; the only recognisable thing about her was the grin with which she greeted Isobel’s startled look.