Some Lucky Day (25 page)

Kitty looked into her face, saw the yearning to help and felt the barriers to resist begin to tumble. ‘Oh, Peggy, would you? Do you mean it?’

Peggy’s expression was earnest as she gently held Kitty’s fingers. ‘My word is my bond, Kitty, and together we’ll get you through this.’ She softly dabbed at Kitty’s tears. ‘It’s far too nice a day for those old things,’ she said, ‘so give me a smile and then you’ll feel much better.’

Kitty smiled, and indeed it did make her feel a lot better.

‘I see Auntie Peg has been working her magic,’ said Rita as she returned with a tray of teacups and a plate of biscuits. ‘You’ll be in safe hands with Peggy, I promise, Kitty. Now, how about I help you with this cup of tea?’

Kitty lay in bed long after the others in the ward had gone to sleep, her thoughts filled with the events of a surprising and eventful afternoon. Peggy Reilly’s genuine offer of help and support had been almost overwhelming, and for a moment, Kitty had been slightly suspicious about why a stranger should care what happened to her.

But as they’d talked and got to know one another a bit better, she’d come to realise that Peggy Reilly was an extraordinary woman who possessed an enormous capacity for love and understanding. Combined with a fierce determination to protect and nurture those in her care, Peggy had given Kitty’s spirits a terrific boost, and she counted herself very fortunate to have been taken under her wing.

Kitty smiled in the darkness. She didn’t feel quite so alone any more.

RON HAD DECIDED
that the puppy should be called Monty, after General Montgomery had been put in command of the Commonwealth and British Eighth Army who were fighting in the West African desert. There hadn’t been much debate over it, for everyone adored the puppy – especially Daisy. And it seemed Monty loved Daisy, for when she fell asleep in her playpen, he would crawl through the bars and snuggle next to her and doze off.

Peggy smiled as she glanced down. The little creature was curled up with Daisy in the shade of the umbrella, and Harvey – who revelled in the role of proud father and guardian – was keeping a watchful eye on the pair of them from outside the bars of the playpen.

Monty was a delightful addition to the family, although there had been a couple of puddles to clean up, and he seemed to really enjoy tearing up newspapers and creating havoc with Cordelia’s knitting. Not that it really mattered, for Cordelia’s attempts at knitting were chaotic at best, and Peggy had lost count of the times she’d had to unravel things and start again.

She glanced across at Cordelia, who was sitting beside the playpen under the umbrella with her newspaper, and with a smile of contentment, she returned to pegging out the washing. It was a beautiful early August morning, with the sun already quite hot and the birds twittering away in the trees, and Peggy was looking forward to taking the bus this afternoon to the Memorial hospital to visit Kitty.

She’d already been once this week, and she’d felt ridiculously proud at how resilient the girl was in the face of such a challenge. Today she would finally have those horrid old plasters removed, and as it was the first step on the long road to recovery for Kitty, it was important to Peggy to be there.

With the nappies and sheets gently flapping in the warm breeze, Peggy took the laundry basket back indoors and set about making a pot of tea. She was just about to pour the boiling water over the last of the tea leaves when the telephone rang. With a frown of concern, she went to answer it.

‘Hello, Mum.’

‘Anne. Oh, darling, what a wonderful surprise.’ Peggy sat down on the hall chair and settled in for a bit of a chat with her eldest daughter. ‘But how did you manage to get through?’ I’ve been trying for a week with no luck.’

‘Like you, I just kept on trying. How are things there? Have you heard from Dad?’

‘I get several letters every week. He can’t tell me much, of course, and the censor blacks out the important bits, so I don’t know exactly where he is or what he’s doing. But he seems his usual cheerful self and has managed to wangle a cushy job as a driver for some colonel or brigadier or something.’

‘Trust him,’ said Anne with a chuckle.

‘How are the boys and Rose Margaret?’ Peggy asked anxiously.

‘Bob’s grown tall and strong and is capable of doing a man’s work around the farm. He’s still talking about becoming a farmer next year after he’s finished school. Charlie is nearly as tall and as cheeky as ever. He’s become fascinated with the farm machinery and spends hours down at the sheds with the mechanic. I think he’s going to take after Dad and Granddad, because he’s showing a real flair for mending things.’

Peggy laughed. ‘The only flair for mending things is in your father and grandfather’s minds. They can talk a good tale but manage to evade the practical side.’ She dug in her apron pocket and lit a cigarette. ‘How are you and Rose Margaret?’

‘Rose is blooming,’ Anne said with a chuckle. ‘She’s spoiled rotten by the land girls and likes nothing better than getting covered in muck. She’s also learning some unfortunate language – some of the girls are from very poor backgrounds and are rather careless around her, so I’ve had to ask them to tone things down a bit.’

Anne paused. ‘As for me, well, I’m still teaching at the village school and I really love it – but in a few months’ time I’m going to have to get someone else to take over. I’m pregnant again.’

Peggy beamed with delight. ‘Oh, Anne, I thought you might be when you came home to see your father off to camp.’

‘Nothing much gets past you, does it?’ she giggled. ‘I was only a couple of months gone.’

Peggy did some rapid calculations. ‘But that means you’re in your sixth month,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Anne, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’d have started knitting a layette.’

‘I didn’t want you to worry. Not that there was anything to worry about,’ Anne added hastily. ‘I’m as fit as a fiddle, and get plenty of good butter, eggs, milk, meat and vegetables down here. You wouldn’t think rationing existed while you live on a farm.’ She laughed. ‘We’ve all put on weight, even Sally’s little Ernie.’

Ernie had been struck down by polio as a baby, and was the younger brother of Sally, Peggy’s first evacuee from London. It was Sally’s aunt who owned the farm in Somerset and who had so kindly offered to take in Peggy’s family as well. Sally had stayed on in Cliffehaven and had married John Hicks, the local fire station boss.

‘Sally will be delighted to hear it,’ Peggy said. ‘He was always far too skinny.’

‘Has she told you about how well he’s been doing without his calipers? He dashes about on walking sticks now, and his Auntie Violet massages his legs every morning and evening. He still has a bit of a limp, but the doctor is very pleased with his progress. I wouldn’t mind betting he’ll soon throw those walking sticks away.’

Peggy’s soft heart went out to the little boy who’d briefly come to live with her from the London slums. He’d been so pale and thin, and dependent on his sister, but he’d possessed great spirit even then, and she had no doubt at all that those sticks would soon be abandoned.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ she said. ‘I don’t often see Sally now she’s got her baby to care for, and another on the way. I must make the effort to pay her a visit. But there are so many other things I have to do there’s rarely time for anything else.’

Anne listened as Peggy told her about Harvey’s puppy, her run-in with Ron over the cake and eels, and her new friendship with Kitty. When Peggy had finally run out of breath, Anne gave a sigh. ‘Honestly, Mum, you’re stretching yourself too thin. You can’t possibly run the house, put up with Granddad’s shenanigans, care for Daisy, go to the WVS and start making hospital visits. It’s at least half an hour away on the bus.’

‘I agree there don’t seem to be enough hours in the day,’ Peggy replied, ‘but I promised, and I’m not about to let the poor girl down. You see, I regard myself as blessed to have a family and a comfortable home. Kitty is far from home and has only her brother, and because he’s one of Martin’s Spitfire pilots, he’s rarely able to even visit her.’

Peggy’s concentration was broken by the sight of the puppy skidding across the hall floor tiles and tumbling onto the mat, where he promptly cocked his leg against the door. ‘Monty,’ she scolded. ‘Out. Out now.’

‘Let me guess,’ giggled Anne. ‘The pup’s done a wee on your floor.’

‘It’s an occupational hazard,’ sighed Peggy as Monty scratched the mat dutifully, and then galloped back into the kitchen looking very pleased with himself. ‘Now, where was I?’

They managed to talk for another five minutes before the woman at the Somerset telephone exchange cut them off. Peggy replaced the receiver, and with a happy sigh for Anne’s lovely news, went to find a bit of paper and a damp cloth to clean up after Monty.

Kitty could no longer avoid looking at her stump, but it wasn’t a pretty sight, and it still took a lot to get used to it. Her thigh looked pale and skinny, the bones of her knee sticking out sharply above the rounded end of what was left of her lower leg. She could see how the surgeon had folded the skin over, almost like an envelope, and although the stitches had long since been taken out, the site of the wound still looked red and swollen.

‘I’m going to have to put a drain in, Kitty,’ surgeon Thorne said as he examined his handiwork. ‘This swelling is caused by excess fluid, and I don’t want infection to set in.’ He smiled at her benevolently. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t hurt more than having an injection, and by draining the fluid it will relieve some of the pain you’ve been experiencing.’

‘When will I be able to have a new leg?’ she asked.

‘Not for a while yet,’ he murmured as he gently applied the tube and small drainage bag to her thigh. ‘The muscles have to strengthen again, and the skin around the wound has to harden so it can take the pressure of your weight in the prosthesis and not be rubbed raw. That’s why the nurses massage it every morning and evening to strengthen the muscles and stop blood clots forming.’

‘That could take weeks,’ said Kitty as she eyed the tender flesh at the end of her thigh. ‘And how long will it be after I get my leg before I can get out of here?’

He applied sticking plaster to the drainage tube and bag to ensure it stayed in place and then pulled a long gauze sock over her entire stump. ‘That will all depend on how well you get on with the new leg,’ he said cheerfully.

‘What’s the average recovery time?’ she persisted.

‘There isn’t one,’ he said firmly. ‘Every patient is different. It depends very much on their general fitness and strength – and of course their determination.’ He smiled. ‘I get the feeling you’ll be one of my star patients. I’ve never known anyone so set on getting out of here.’

‘It’s not a reflection on you or this place,’ she replied quickly. ‘But I’m bored rigid and want to be up and doing again.’

‘Then let’s get these plasters off and start the process. Once you’ve got the hang of going about on crutches, you’ll feel a lot better, I assure you.’

Kitty knew he was right, but it sounded as if she was facing a very long haul.

He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You know, Kitty, that once the swelling has gone down and there’s no risk of infection, you could become an outpatient here. The fitting of the prosthesis and the ongoing help to learn how to use and maintain it can easily be done with you coming in to our physiotherapy centre every day.’

Kitty’s spirits plummeted further. She couldn’t imagine trying to struggle on her own in some dreary flat with a false leg and walking sticks, and Freddy wouldn’t be able to help either. ‘I’ve got nowhere else to go, so it looks like I’m stuck here, then,’ she said miserably.

The army surgeon patted her shoulder. ‘Never mind,’ he soothed. ‘It’s not a bad place to live while you recuperate, and we aren’t about to throw you out until we’re completely satisfied that you’re fit and have somewhere to go.’

He picked her up and placed her gently in the wheelchair. ‘Come on, let’s get those plasters off.’

The green and yellow charabanc had trundled up the hill from Cliffehaven town centre and followed the meandering road heading north-west. This road led past the factory estate and the new prefabs, then wound at leisure between high hedgerows and the rhododendron bushes that hid Agatha Fullerton’s grand house. The glorious blooms had faded now, but the hedge was still a verdant screen.

Peggy had left Daisy with Ron on the strictest instructions not to take her further than the town, and she could only pray that for once he would do as he was told. As the conversations among the other passengers drifted around her she looked out at the vista of sweeping farmland and hills that lay beyond Cliffehaven.

She could see the distant glimmer of the sea, and despite the ugly dark humps of the many gun emplacements that dotted the landscape, she fully understood why Ron so loved it. Even though she rarely had time to explore these hills any more, it was enough to know they were there, an intrinsic part of what they were all fighting for.

She gave a rueful smile as she thought of him tramping over these hills with Daisy strapped in the old army satchel. He’d done the same for Jim and Frank when they were small, and had continued to do it when his grandchildren came along. The sun glinting on the window made her blink, and tears welled up at the thought that two of Frank’s lovely three boys would never again come home.

Determined not to be gloomy on such a beautiful August day, she forced back her tears and turned her thoughts to Kitty.

Her first visit to the hospital had been an eye-opener. There was no denying that she’d been shocked and deeply saddened to see so many youngsters battling with missing limbs, head wounds and blindness, but within moments of her arrival, she’d been forcibly reminded of how strong the human spirit was, for there was an almost tangible determination amongst them to survive – to overcome the worst a person could bear – and have the courage to face what could only be an uncertain and rather frightening future. Their fortitude and cheerfulness had made her feel ashamed of her pity, and although she suspected they hid their fears and sorrows behind those smiles, she knew they would never admit it.