Primrose Square (29 page)

There were artificial limbs, of course, but there were so many wounded soldiers needing them now, the waiting lists were lengthy. It was said that since the war, great improvements were being made in manufacture, but what was the good of that if you never got to the top of the list? As they entered the recreation room, Elinor resolved to ask Barry about his prospects for a false leg. It might make all the difference to his attitude.

For new patients, meeting the old ones was always a bit of an ordeal. Like the first day at school, when everybody seemed to know everybody else, except you. Now, the crowd round Brenda at the tea urn all turned to look at Barry humping himself in, and though some smiled, others only turned aside. No one spoke, except for a QA – Sister Warren – who called out, ‘Now listen all – this is Barry Howat, just arrived from Musselburgh. Make way and let him sit down.'

‘I don't need to sit down,' Barry muttered.

‘Yes, you do. How are you going to hold your cup, then?' Pulling forward a chair, Sister Warren made Barry sit down, ordered Elinor to take his crutches and Brenda to give him tea and a piece of slab cake, then rushed out like a whirlwind, which was her way. There was some laughter and one or two men came forward to speak to Barry, asking where he'd lost the leg. ‘The Somme? Aye, lot o' fellows lost more than that there, eh?'

‘I know that,' Barry snapped. ‘I know I should be grateful.'

‘Oh, we're all grateful!' someone muttered.

‘Barry, do you see what's in the corner?' Elinor whispered a little later. ‘A piano. It would be nice if you could play for us.'

‘I don't play these days.'

‘Why not? You could.'

‘True, I don't need two legs to play the piano.'

‘I wish you wouldn't be so sharp. I'm only trying to help.'

‘Sorry. I told you what I was like. Fact is, I've no interest in playing now. There are no tunes in my head any more.'

‘Oh, Barry!'

‘Am I allowed to go back to my room? I'm feeling pretty done in.'

‘I'll take you back. Give me your cup.'

‘You needn't come, I know the way.'

‘I‘d like to. I want to ask you something.'

After Elinor had returned his cup to Brenda, who gave her a sympathetic smile, they made their slow journey back to Barry's room, where his room mate was lying on his bed, smoking.

‘No smoking in the bedrooms, Donald,' Elinor told him. ‘You know that very well. Now why aren't you downstairs having tea and cake?'

‘No tea and cake,' answered young Donald, who was so thin he looked as though he never had tea and cake.

‘Well, say hello to Barry Howat, then – he's just arrived from Musselburgh.'

‘Hello, Barry.'

‘Hello, Donald.'

Propping his crutches nearby, Barry swung himself on to the bed and lay stretched out, his hazel eyes on Elinor.

‘What did you want to speak to me about?'

‘I just wanted to ask you if you'd thought about getting an artificial leg.'

‘Have I thought about it? Elinor, I think about nothing else. But at the rate they're being supplied, I'll no' get one till about 1935. By which time I'll be a goner.'

‘That's nonsense!' Elinor hesitated. ‘But we'll talk later. I have to go now. Don't forget, supper's at seven. Donald, you take Barry down, will you?'

‘Where are you going, then?' asked Barry, sitting up.

‘Off duty. Early night for me.'

‘Will you be in tomorrow?'

‘Oh, yes, but you'll be very busy tomorrow. Starting treatment.'

‘But you'll be in, though?'

‘Yes, I'll be in. Goodnight, Barry. Goodnight, Donald. Someone'll be in to check you're all right, Barry.'

‘Aye, there's always someone coming in,' said Donald. ‘Frightened we'll disappear if they don't keep opening the door.'

‘Goodnight, Elinor,' said Barry quietly. ‘And thanks.'

She smiled, and went out, still feeling that lump in her throat, still feeling she might cry, but managing to hold back the tears.

Fifty-Four

Next morning, when she could catch him, Elinor asked Major Henderson if he could spare her a moment.

‘I know I shouldn't ask, really – these things are confidential – but I was wondering how you'd found Corporal Howat today? I know him, you see – we were at the same school. That's why I'm interested.'

She knew none of the other doctors would have given her any information at all, but had hopes that the major, who was very sympathetic, would tell her something of Barry's case. He seemed pleased, anyway, to hear that she was someone Barry knew.

‘You're a friend of his, Elinor? That could be very useful.' His look was gentle. ‘But I'm afraid I can't give you more than general information – these interviews are, as you say, confidential.'

‘It's just that I feel so sorry for him, remembering how he used to be.'

‘Of course. Well, he is certainly very deeply depressed. Most people are, when they lose a limb, but some cope better than others. Barry is one who can't reconcile himself to a different life from the one he's always known. Football, active interests, independence – these he can't see himself living without. In fact, he told me  . . .' The major suddenly stopped himself. ‘I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more. All I'd better say is that it's going to be a long job.'

‘Is there anything I can do?'

‘Why, yes, I think there might be. If you're a friend, perhaps you could take him out, in his wheelchair? I think he needs to be in the city, see people, feel he's still in the world, even if handicapped. And maybe you could talk to him, too, and persuade him that he still has a useful life to live. Would you be able to do that?'

‘Yes, I think I could. I'd like to help, anyway.'

Major Henderson hesitated. ‘The only thing is – it sometimes happens – he might become too attached to you. You might have to watch out for that.'

‘It wouldn't happen with Barry and me,' Elinor said tightly. ‘I know that for sure.'

‘How can you?' he asked, smiling. ‘We can never be sure how other people will react.'

‘With Barry I just know.'

And at the look in her dark eyes and the tightening of her lips, Major Henderson decided it was better not to press the point.

‘It's interesting, though, that you knew him as he used to be,' he murmured. ‘We don't often get that sort of insight. What was he like, then?'

She paused, her mouth relaxing into a smile.

‘He was one of the most cheerful people you could wish to meet. Everyone knew him for that. Nothing bothered him, everything was easy. Sunny, I think, is the way I'd describe him.'

‘Sunny? Good God.' The major bit his lip. ‘What the war can do to people  . . . I can't even recognize him from the man you describe.'

‘He played the piano, too. Anything and everything, all by ear. Now he says he hasn't a tune in his head.'

‘Ah, Elinor, didn't I tell you, we have a long way to go?'

‘You're going to take me out?' Barry asked later. ‘In the wheelchair? No thanks, I'm no' parading myself in the streets, looking for sympathy. That's no' going to happen.'

‘Who says you're looking for sympathy? You have to have fresh air – this is a way of getting it. And seeing other people.'

‘And letting them see me. No, no. It's what some fellows like, I've heard. Everybody fawning and telling 'em they're heroes.' Barry shook his head. ‘No' for me, Elinor. Forget it.'

‘It's what Major Henderson wants,' she said shortly. ‘No point in arguing. Next fine afternoon, we're going.'

He stared, his eyes narrowing. ‘Yes, ma'am! As you say, ma'am! Where do I report, then?'

‘There's no need to make fun, Barry. I'm simply telling you what Major Henderson said.'

‘Ordered, you mean.'

‘It was more of a request – something to help you.'

‘All right.' He shrugged. ‘If I have to, I have to. Next fine afternoon, we go.'

‘I think, once we set off, you'll enjoy it. It's nearly Christmas and the shops are all trying to be cheerful.'

When he made no reply, she sighed. Talk about uphill work, she thought, then, remembering his situation, drew on her patience.

‘Are they letting you out for Christmas?' she asked lightly. ‘They do their best to celebrate here, but a lot of patients try to go home for a couple of days.'

‘I suppose I could go to Bettina's, if she'll have me. She visited me in Musselburgh, but we'd nothing much to say. I told her no' to bother coming to the Primrose.'

‘She might still want you for Christmas?'

‘Well, her Alfie's still in the Navy, risking life and limb, and Georgie's gone, so she thinks I shouldn't be out of the battlefields.'

‘Oh, that's a piece of nonsense, Barry! I'm sure she doesn't think any such thing. When you've  . . .'

‘Lost a leg? That's no excuse in Bettina's eyes.' Barry gave a rare grin. ‘Och, I'm being a bit hard on her. I expect she'll have me for Christmas dinner, if she's having one. At least it's the ground floor.'

‘Ground floor?' Elinor repeated, then blushed. ‘Oh, sorry, I see what you mean.'

‘Aye, takes me a long time to climb the stair these days.'

‘How about we go down to the recreation room for a cup of tea?'

‘No need for you to come, Elinor, thanks all the same. I can manage your wee lift myself now.'

And as he moved painfully away on his crutches, it seemed to her that Barry was already doing what he could to hang on to his independence. If only he also could master his depression and accept his injury, too – but, as the major said, to get him to do that looked like being a long job.

Fifty-Five

On the first afternoon Elinor took Barry out, the weather was chill and grey, but the Princes Street shops were filled with light and whatever could be found to sell to bring some cheer to the war-weary public. Certainly, the public was keen enough to go shopping and Elinor found it no easy task steering Barry's wheelchair through the crowds.

‘Are you sure I'm no' too heavy for you?' Barry asked, trying to look pleasant as passers-by smiled at him, murmuring such remarks as ‘Well done, laddie!' and ‘Brave fellow, then.'

‘No, no, I'm tall and strong,' Elinor answered, rather regretting her words, as she knew he was the one who wanted to be tall and strong, but deciding it was best to carry on talking. ‘I'm afraid there's an awful crowd out today, but Major Henderson thinks it's good for you to mix with folk, you see.'

‘He might think that, but all I can see are legs,' Barry returned. ‘Everybody's got legs – what good does that do me?'

‘You're supposed to be looking at the shops, or the Castle, or something to cheer you up. That's the object.'

‘How about a cup of tea, then? It's damned cold in the street and I've got a few bob spending money. I'll treat you.'

‘There's a nice little place off George Street,' Elinor told him, glad herself to think of being out of the cold. ‘Should be quieter there, too.'

It was remarkable how much better they both felt in a comforting warm atmosphere, with hot tea and mince pies before them and pleasant people around, all legs hidden beneath tables.

‘Oh, this is nice,' Elinor murmured, pouring Barry more tea. ‘There are still some things to enjoy, aren't there?'

His eyes were resting on her face, rather flushed from the cold, her eyes very bright, and he gave for once a genuine smile.

‘Aye, it's some time since I had a mince pie, I'll agree.'

‘I made some mince pies once, for the Christmas party our course had. They were pretty good, too.'

‘Your tutor fellow enjoy them?'

Elinor looked down. ‘He did, as a matter of fact.'

‘What happened to him, then? Let me guess, he's an officer somewhere?'

‘In the King's Own Scottish Borderers. Fought in plenty of battles.'

‘You don't need to tell me. I've nothing against officers, except the ones who do the planning. This fellow been wounded?'

‘Had a bullet in his knee, I believe.'

‘And he's all right? Lucky devil.' Barry finished the last crumb of his mince pie. ‘You keep in touch?'

‘No' really. He's found someone else now. A lady ambulance driver.'

‘Oh, yes, I know the sort.'

‘They do a very good job, Barry.'

‘Sure they do. Everybody does a good job. Never seem to get anywhere, that's the trouble.'

‘Mind if I ask you, but how did you get on with the major?' Elinor said after a pause. ‘I mean, for your first session?'

‘Och, it was just what I expected. Questions and answers and all very nice and friendly. He seems a good chap, but he's never going to get my leg back.'

‘The main thing is to be very honest, they say, tell the doctors everything, no' what you think they want to hear.'

‘I told him something that made him jump.' Barry took out a packet of Woodbines. ‘Can we smoke in here?'

‘Most people are. I don't. What did you tell him, Barry?'

‘Said when I was looking at the sea at Musselburgh on my first day out after the op, for two pins, I'd have thrown myself in.'

‘Barry, you didn't mean it!' Elinor had turned pale. ‘You would never do that!'

‘Sure I would,' Barry answered carelessly, lighting a cigarette. ‘Still might. Why not, if my whole life has changed? I'm just waiting to see how things go.'

‘You never told them at Musselburgh?'

‘No, but they might have guessed. I'm described as depressed, eh? And I'm here.'

‘Major Henderson will never let you do such a terrible thing!' Elinor cried and, leaning across the table, took Barry's hand. ‘And neither will I!'