Swansea Summer (20 page)

Jack looked up to see Joe standing in his dressing gown and pyjamas on the landing. Martin and Katie were in the doorway of the living room. He turned to John. ‘The doctor will see me at nine o’clock.’

‘And Helen?’

‘They wouldn’t tell me any more.’

Chapter Eleven

Martin stepped back as Lily opened her door. ‘I can’t stay.’

‘Not even long enough for me to ask how Helen is?’

Taking Lily’s comment as a reproach, Martin joined her in the hall. ‘Jack left with her father for the hospital a few minutes ago.’

‘She is going to be all right, isn’t she?’ Lily asked anxiously.

‘Jack hasn’t even been told what’s wrong with her. You know what they’re like in hospitals.’

‘No.’ She opened the door to the parlour, but he remained in the hall. ‘I haven’t had much experience of them.’

‘They never tell the family a thing until they absolutely have to.’

‘If there’s anything I can do …’

‘Thank you, but there isn’t anything that Katie or I can do,’ he broke in, making her feel as though she were trying to push herself where she wasn’t wanted. ‘About today …’

‘Even if we’d made firm plans, we could hardly go off on a jaunt with Helen ill.’

‘I hoped you’d understand.’

Lily almost said ‘and I hoped you knew me better’ but with Helen ill and him worried about Jack, it was hardly the time to confront him about his attitude to her. ‘Mrs Lannon is making breakfast. You’re welcome to join us.’

‘None of us felt like eating this morning so Katie’s preparing something for when Jack and Helen’s father come back. I ought to stay with her – just in case Jack or the hospital telephones.’

‘Give Katie my love and remind her I’m here if she needs anything.’

‘She’ll probably call in later, even if she decides to stay with Jack again tonight.’ He looked at her for a moment and she thought he was going to say something else, then he turned and left.

At ten minutes to nine John and Jack were shown to a row of wooden chairs in the corridor outside the female surgical ward. They sat side by side, too concerned about what might be happening to Helen to attempt conversation. John glanced impatiently at his watch after he could have sworn they had been there several hours. The hands pointed to twenty past nine.

Footsteps echoed further down the corridor but none came near them. After another ten-minute wait he rose stiffly from his chair and massaged his damaged leg. His scars were aching and he was muscle-bound after sitting up all night. Pacing uneasily, he was careful to keep within sight of Jack who blanched paler with every passing second.

‘Mr Clay.’ A middle-aged nurse stood in front of Jack’s chair. ‘The doctor will see you now.’

They were shown into an office that smelled of hospital disinfectant. The walls were painted institution green, the woodwork brown, matching the linoleum on the floor. A young man sat surrounded by files, scribbling notes at a desk.

‘Mr Clay and …’ The nurse looked inquisitively at John, uncertain whether to admit him.

‘John Griffiths, I’m Mrs Clay’s father.’

‘Thank you, staff. Take a seat. Be with you in a moment.’ The doctor waved his hand without looking up from the notes he continued to pen as they sat on the only two spare chairs in the room. He continued to write for another five minutes, which John monitored using the second hand on his wristwatch. Eventually the doctor sat back and blotted the page he’d been working on. Avoiding looking at them, he slowly and laboriously screwed the top on his fountain pen, removed his spectacles and finally – because he couldn’t delay any longer – turned to them.

Judging by the difficulty the man appeared to have in focusing, John wondered if he could see them without his glasses, then he realised the doctor didn’t want to see them. He was keeping the interview as impersonal as possible because he had bad news and was stalling for time while he debated how to break it.

‘How is Helen?’ Jack began, unable to wait a moment longer.

‘As well as can be expected.’

John gritted his teeth – that damned phrase again.

The doctor cleared his throat. ‘She was very ill when she was brought in; frankly, it was touch and go whether she’d survive. But although I’d advise caution, I am fairly optimistic that she will make a recovery.’

‘She will be all right?’ Jack urged, clearly unable to make much sense of what the doctor had said.

‘She is still poorly. I was told she was on honeymoon.’

‘We were returning home from London.’ Jack wondered what exactly the doctor meant by ‘poorly’. It sounded more like something Mrs Lannon would say than a professional.

‘You are aware that she was pregnant.’

‘Yes.’ Jack turned ashen as he realised the implication of the ‘was’.

‘She had a tubal pregnancy.’

‘I don’t understand, doctor,’ John said shortly, trying to force the man to explain the facts in language that he and Jack could comprehend.

‘The baby was developing in a fallopian tube outside the uterus. There was simply no way it could survive and by lodging in the tube it almost killed the mother. Her condition was acute by the time she reached here. She must have been in pain for hours. It would have been better if she had come in as soon as she was taken ill.’

‘You could have saved the baby?’ Even Jack’s lips were white.

‘The baby was never viable. But by coming in sooner she might have been spared considerable pain and discomfort.’

‘We were on a train.’ Jack took the doctor’s comments as criticism and wished he had listened to the porter and insisted they leave the train at Bridgend. ‘Was there anything we … I could have done to stop it from happening?’

‘Only brought her in sooner. That might have resulted in less radical surgery but it would not have affected the outcome. A small percentage of babies develop in the fallopian tubes outside of the uterus. We have absolutely no idea why and cannot predict or prevent it from happening.’

‘But she will make a full recovery.’ John willed the doctor to say something that would wipe the guilt-ridden expression from Jack’s face.

‘Clinically, given sufficient rest and care, and barring complications, that is the most likely scenario.’

‘There could be complications?’ John pushed.

‘None I can foresee. She was also suffering from uterus unicornis.’

Jack turned to John, not the doctor.

‘We’re laymen, doctor. What does that mean?’ John demanded.

‘It means, Mr Griffiths, she had only one Fallopian tube. We had no choice but to remove it. As a result she will never have a child.’

Bleak-eyed, Jack stared blankly at the wall above the doctor’s head.

John was the first to recover. ‘Have you told her?’

‘Her condition is too acute for anyone to discuss it with her.’ The doctor rose to his feet and opened the door. ‘Your daughter will be hospitalised for approximately four weeks, Mr Griffiths.’

John realised the doctor couldn’t wait to be rid of them but he also wanted answers to the questions he knew Jack would ask when he recovered from the initial shock. ‘Can we see her?’

‘There would be no point; she is still heavily sedated. But there is visiting this afternoon. Possibly then, sister will allow one visitor for a short time provided they take care not to upset the patient.’

‘Does my daughter know that she has lost her baby?’

‘No, apart from being barely conscious, as I said, she is far too ill for anyone to discuss her condition with her. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have patients to attend to. The nurse will see you out.’

John drove straight from the hospital to the warehouse. ‘We need to sort a few things,’ he explained in answer to the confused look on Jack’s face. ‘There are too many people back at the house. All well-meaning, but you need to make some decisions before you see them.’

Jack followed him up to the office suite and sat on the sofa in the reception area. John joined him a moment later with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. ‘Just one,’ he poured out two measures. ‘We’ve both had a shock.’

Jack drank it as if he were obeying orders. John realised his son-in-law was in a stupor and doubted much of what the doctor had said had registered.

‘Practical things first.’ John sat opposite him. ‘You’re going to need somewhere to live while Helen’s in hospital.’

‘I couldn’t live in the flat. It’s Helen’s. She chose everything. She was looking forward to using all the new things. I would mess it up.’

‘You can live upstairs with Joe and me. There’s three spare bedrooms in the attic if you don’t want to sleep in Helen’s room.’

‘I’d rather move back in with my brother.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ John conceded. ‘You’ll need company. And as for work …’

‘I might take an hour or two off if they let me visit Helen during the day, Mr Griffiths, but please don’t stop me from coming in here. I have to do something …’

‘Whatever you do, Jack, your job will be kept open for you. I didn’t get around to telling you, but it’s not only me that’s pleased with the progress you’ve made since you joined us. The stockroom manager was only saying last week how willing and quick to learn you are.’ John refilled both their glasses and screwed the top back on the bottle. Left to his own devices he might have been tempted to empty it, but there was visiting that afternoon – for Jack if not for him. And given his present state, Jack would need someone to drive him there. ‘You heard what the doctor said about not telling Helen she’s lost the baby.’

‘Or can’t have any more,’ Jack murmured wretchedly. He’d been offered a glimpse of something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted and just as he’d not only become used to the idea, but actually started to look forward to having a family of his own, it had been snatched away. That curse again. Him bringing grief and misery to everyone he loved.

‘Nothing that’s happened is your fault, Jack.’ John had to repeat himself before he could be sure that Jack had heard him.

‘Helen wouldn’t have been pregnant if it wasn’t for me.’

‘And you faced up to your responsibilities and married her,’ John reminded him. ‘Didn’t you hear the doctor say this happens in a percentage of cases? That they have no idea why and can’t stop it from happening?’

‘But I made Helen carry on working and she saw to everything in the flat …’

‘No one’s ever made Helen do anything she didn’t want to in her life. And you saw to all the decorating and heavy work. If she saw to the rest it was because she wanted to. And as for working, being an office clerk is hardly grafting like a navvy.’

‘If she’d rested …’

‘The doctor said it would have made no difference,’ John interrupted firmly.

‘I should never have brought her back to Swansea. I should have made her get off the train in Bridgend …’

‘It would have made no difference. She still would have lost the baby.’

‘But she might have …’

‘Jack, look at me,’ John ordered, waiting until Jack lifted his head. ‘Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this to happen.’

‘I wish I could believe you.’

‘You had better start trying, because if you see Helen this afternoon looking the way you do now, she is going to know something is wrong and that could prevent her from recovering as quickly as she might.’

‘I have to tell everyone …’

‘If you want, you can leave that to me.’

‘It’s bad enough she lost the baby and she’s ill. But not being able to have any more.’ Jack set his mouth into a grim line as he fought to suppress the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

‘How about I tell everyone she’s lost the baby and leave it at that? No one else need know she can’t have children unless she chooses to tell them.’

Jack nodded dumbly.

John laid his hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘I think you know that I wasn’t thrilled when you told me Helen was going to have your baby.’

‘An ex-Borstal boy doesn’t make the best son-in-law.’

‘But you do, Jack. And I want you to know that I’m proud and pleased that Helen is married to you, because I’m confident that somehow you’ll find the strength to see both of you through this.’

If Jack heard him, he made no sign. Unequal to dealing with Jack’s misery as well as his own, John cleared the glasses and whisky, and reached for his car keys. ‘We’d better be going.’

‘You’ll tell everyone we’ve lost the baby?’

‘I’ll tell them, Jack.’ John locked the door and followed him out of the building.

Refusing all offers of help and breakfast, Jack packed the clothes Helen had hung in the wardrobe in the flat into his battered suitcase. Taking it, and the case he’d brought back from London, he left the basement by the front door; locking it with the key he’d taken from Helen’s handbag.

Primed by John, Martin was waiting. He couldn’t conceal his amazement at the difference a few hours had made to his brother. Jack looked dazed and suddenly years older.

‘Mr Griffiths told you.’

‘Yes.’

‘That Helen’s lost the baby,’ Jack continued, checking that Martin knew what he and John had decided and no more.

‘I’m sorry, Jack, I know how much you were looking forward to being a father.’

‘Perhaps this is fate’s way of telling me I would have made a lousy one,’ Jack answered, succumbing to a bout of self-pity.

‘You would have made a great one. And when Helen recovers …’

‘Does anyone else know?’ Jack broke in swiftly.

‘Mr Griffiths told Roy Williams and Mrs Hunt, and they’ve probably told Lily and Judy by now. I told Katie and Sam. I didn’t think there was any point in trying to keep it a secret with Helen in hospital.’

‘There isn’t.’

‘Here, let me.’ Martin reached for one of the cases.

‘No.’ Jack kept his grip on both of them.

‘Mr Griffiths said you wouldn’t eat breakfast. I could cook us something. There’s bacon and eggs …’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Jack glanced from the dresser to the table, evading his brother’s eye. ‘I need to be alone for a while.’

‘Katie …’

‘She’s here?’ Jack eyes clouded with exhaustion and Martin realised he simply couldn’t face people, not even him or their sister.

‘No, but she told me to tell you she’ll be upstairs all day if you want to see her.’ He paused, searching for something to say. ‘Everyone wants to help, Jack, they’re just not sure how.’

Jack nodded as he opened the door to the passage.

‘Roy Williams has invited us upstairs for Sunday dinner.’