The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow (12 page)

Granny just shook her head gently. ‘It’s just a matter of time, Ann. His lungs are damaged and there’s no medicine that can help him now.’

We listened to his laboured breathing and the tears rolled down my cheeks. Grandad was facing death and I just couldn’t believe it. I didn’t
want
to believe it.

Granny, as strong as ever, said, ‘The doctor said someone should sit up with him through the night in case he chokes.’

‘I’ll do that, Granny – you have enough to do during the day.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll also ask Hattie to help out.’

‘Lily and I will come to live here. We’ll manage in the wee room in the lobby. That way I’ll be here to look after her as well.’

Granny gave me a sad look. ‘Poor Ann – you’re aye looking after somebody else and never yourself.’

I had to get time off from he shop but I could still work the afternoons and early evenings.

Connie was very understanding. ‘Och, just come in when you can, Ann. I’ll do the early morning shift and you can maybe do the later shift and I’ll get a rest then. Will that be fine?’

Actually at that moment I didn’t know what would be fine or not. It was going to be a question of settling into a routine with me sitting up during the night to let Granny get a sleep.

I tried to pass all this off lightly when I picked Lily up from the school. Her eyes widened in pain but I explained it was only for a short time until Grandad got better and she believed me – thank goodness. Although I hated telling her a lie, I knew I could never tell her that her beloved Grandad was dying.

Rosie and Dad were very upset when they heard the news and Rosie immediately offered to help out with the nursing – an offer I knew she couldn’t possibly fulfil.

‘You have Jay to look after so you have enough on your plate as it is, Rosie.’

This was true because Jay, who was almost a year old, was now crawling and he seemed to get into everything and into all the corners. Rosie was forever picking him up. In desperation, she would place him in the playpen but he viewed these wooden bars like some criminal in prison and would pull himself up and shake them violently, crying so hard that Rosie relented and let him crawl around the room in freedom.

The first week wasn’t too bad. Grandad seemed to rally and he got out of bed and sat on the chair by the fire, filling his pipe with tobacco and sucking on the stem like a man dying of thirst instead of a man dying by degrees.

To begin with, I tried to persuade him not to smoke but Granny said that, at this late stage, smoking couldn’t do him any more harm. The damage had started years before and had slowly grown worse with time. So I sat and read while he smoked.

One night he laughed out loud. I looked at him, puzzled. ‘What are you laughing at, Grandad?’

‘I’m just thinking what a big lassie Lily is now.’ He chuckled. ‘I’m thinking about the time I brought yon muckle pram home from Jumpin’ Jeemy’s Emporium and the look of horror on Hattie’s face when she saw it.’

I smiled at him. ‘I remember how you threw the door open like some conquering hero, Grandad, and how Granny scrubbed it till it was shining.’

Grandad laughed again. ‘Och, aye, I mind that. When I’m feeling better, I’ll have to take young Jay along the Esplanade. He’ll enjoy that.’

I had to look away, my eyes full of unshed tears.

It was time to get him back to his bed. I noticed how thin he had become and his striped pyjamas now hung from his body. His neck was so thin that I was sure I could encircle it with my two hands.

Luckily, Granny was sleeping in the spare bed in Alice’s house. It was just to let him get a good night’s sleep, she told him – which sadly, as the days went on, became increasingly rare.

Hattie arrived one night with Graham but, when she saw him coughing, his body racked with the effort of it, she ran from the house, crying. Graham gave me a pitying look as he went out after her. She never came back again at night although she did visit during the day.

Much to Grandad’s delight, Dad would pop in every evening with Rosie and Jay. Lily would read the newspaper out loud for him as he didn’t have the energy to hold it and she would add her own comments which could be hilarious. This made Grandad laugh and Lily was so pleased because she thought this meant he was getting better.

One bit of good news was Dad’s medical. His skull fracture had healed completely. The doctor had said, ‘You’ve got good strong bones, Mr Neill’ and he’d praised Granny’s good food when he was growing up.

Granny laughed when Dad told her this medical snippet. ‘Aye, you and Hattie were fed on good Scots fare when you were bairns.’

Hogmanay was looming but there was little anticipation of a celebration. The war was still going on and there didn’t seem an end in sight – just like Grandad’s illness.

We had all decided not to celebrate the end of 1942. Even Connie, who always kept so cheerful, seemed tired and drained of energy. She had been listening to Joe who went on and on about the Italians coming over to the side of Allies, forsaking Mussolini and the Germans.

During the afternoon of a day that was particularly dark and wintry and very depressing, she said to me, ‘I suppose it’s good news – the Italian Army siding with the Allies. It must mean we’re winning although it certainly doesn’t seem like it. Queuing for this and queuing for that – it fair makes you mad.’

She was right. The rations had been slashed still further and it was getting more difficult to keep a family fed. Thank goodness for potatoes and bread, I always thought.

‘Speaking about the Italian Army, Connie, they’re ordinary folk like us and I bet they’re as sick and tired of this war as we are. And the German people as well.’

Connie nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right, Ann. It’s just the dictators and governments that want to see it go on and on – just for their own glory and a wee mention in the history books.’

Greg’s letter arrived the next morning. Instead of being overjoyed by the sight of it, I was suddenly plunged into a panic.

He wrote, ‘I’m getting another short leave and will be home for the New Year with a special licence in my pocket. It’s time to tie the knot, don’t you think, Ann?’

I had spent a long hard night with Grandad as he didn’t sleep very well because of the cough and pain in his chest. I was feeling so tired and, afterwards, when the damage was done, I realised I wasn’t thinking straight. Of course, it would be great to see him but to get married? Not yet, I thought – especially with Grandad so ill.

I sent a letter away immediately saying Grandad was very ill and could we postpone the wedding till later but also saying I was looking forward to seeing him.

His letter arrived on Hogmanay and it was short.

I think we should part company, Ann. I’m sorry to hear about your grandad but your life is never your own. The family all seem to come first and I’m a poor second. I’ve become friendly with a girl down here and, although we are just friends, I want you to know about it as it wouldn’t be fair to be seeing someone else while we are engaged. That’s why I’m breaking the engagement to let us both have some time to think things through and to lead our own lives.

I sat for ages with the letter in my hand and tears streaming down my face. In my heart, I knew I couldn’t blame him for wanting to go out to dances and social occasions, which he often mentioned in his letters, but another girl – that was something else.

Thankfully, I had opened the letter in my small cupboard of a bedroom just before grabbing some sleep before setting off for the shop. Granny and Lily were bustling around the kitchen and I didn’t want them to see me upset. Granny had enough to worry about without my added problems. I managed to get into bed and tried to weep silently. It wasn’t easy. I thought of all the years Greg and I had known one another but now we were just another two casualties of this dreadful conflict. Daniel was growing up without a father, as was Peter. And, as for me … well, it looked as if I would never have children of my own – or a husband.

Later, as I made my way to Connie’s shop for the last afternoon in another year, I managed to hide my distress and put on a face. Granny gave me some strange looks but I said I was tired – it was nothing else but exhaustion.

Then, at midnight, we sat with a small glass of sherry and listened to Bella as she gave us a rundown on her latest illness. ‘It was the flu, Nan, and I really thought I’d had it. In fact, I’m still so weak my legs can hardly hold me up.’

Granny and I were so tired we could hardly keep our eyes open never mind give an answer to Bella’s flu. Grandad then took another bad fit of coughing and we hurried over to help him while Bella lapsed into silence.

Then Hattie and Graham arrived. They had been to a New Year’s dance and Hattie was dressed in a lovely blue evening gown. She looked so out of place in the kitchen with Grandad coughing and a silent Bella.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took Grandad’s hand. ‘You’ll be fine, Dad. Just wait till the better weather is here and you can get out for your walks along the Esplanade.’

He gave her a weak, watery-eyed smile. ‘Aye, Hattie, I will,’ he said before lying back on the pillow with a sigh.

Hattie and Graham left with Bella. Graham offered to see Bella home and she accepted with a gracious smile – much to Hattie’s annoyance.

Thankfully, Lily was staying with the Pringle family while Dad, Rosie and Jay had all paid a visit earlier that afternoon. Everything was quiet in the close as all the neighbours knew of Grandad’s illness. Sometimes a short burst of sound carried up from the street but it was short-lived. Grandad drifted off into a fitful sleep while Granny and I gazed at one another in dismay.

I think Granny knew something was wrong with me but she said nothing and the two of us brought in another New Year in silence and misery. Both of us on the verge of losing the men we loved.

Granny was resilient and she took Grandad’s illness in her stride while I was quietly disintegrating by degrees. One thing was clear – he was getting worse with each passing day and, although we were now in the warmer days of spring, it didn’t help his cough or his breathing.

The only thing he still enjoyed was his cup of tea but it took him ages to drink it. He managed to sit up for a short time before collapsing back on to the bed, looking absolutely drained and breathless.

We were still in our routine of sitting up every night with him and Granny and I still took it in turns to do this. I was managing only a few days at work but Connie said she understood and that I was to take as long as I needed off.

I had to admit that I enjoyed my few hours away from the sickbed, catching up on all the Hilltown gossip and I was even listening with a different ear to Joe.

He seemed pleased by the way the war had turned. ‘I told you, Connie, didn’t I, that the German Army would have to retreat from Russia and look what’s happened. They’ve been defeated at Stalingrad. Hitler seemingly told the army commanders they were forbidden to surrender but they did surrender. It’s all right for his nibs in his cosy command room to forbid anything but it’s not him standing up to his oxters in snow – and starving as well.’

Connie and I were hopeful that the end of the war could now be in sight but it still rumbled on and on. It was as if all the victories and defeats in different parts of the world were still not enough to bring about the peace we all longed for – not just in our country but everywhere. Then there was the rationing, and food supplies were being cut further and it was difficult to keep going – especially for those with big families.

Grandad sometimes enjoyed a small piece of toast with his tea and Granny added a cup of hot Oxo to his menu. Its beefy aroma seemed to perk him up while Granny swore by its health-giving benefits.

We were hardly ever in the flat in Roseangle now. While I stayed with Granny, Lily was now living with Rosie, Dad and Jay. This was a big help as it saved us cooking for her which was a big consideration when one of us was up all night. Also, Lily was spared the worst of witnessing Grandad’s bad bouts. When she visited us, he was usually sleeping and quite peaceful-looking which was a blessing.

However, it was becoming clear that Grandad needed a lot more care and the doctor advised Granny to let him admit Grandad to the hospital. This was something she was totally against so we carried on, taking one day at a time. But we did have some help. Maddie offered to sit up at the weekends and let us have a rest – an offer we accepted so swiftly that we were both ashamed of ourselves.

Granny had been dubious to begin with, however. ‘You’ve got wee Daniel to look after, Maddie. He’s now at an age when he’s into everything and you’ll need eyes at the back of your head just to look after him.’

Maddie nodded. ‘Oh, yes, he can be a little monster at times but my mother will look after him to let me help out. After all, he’ll be asleep during the few hours I’m here.’

As I said, we accepted with speed.

Hattie also did two days a week which was a big help because it let me get to my work and I was grateful to them both because it also let Granny catch up on some badly needed sleep.

I would stay up with Maddie for a couple of hours when she did her stint and we’d sit by the banked up fire, holding hot cups of tea in our hands.

Maddie, being a nurse, was excellent with Grandad. She was able to make him eat a tiny breakfast before leaving in the morning. Then she gave him a blanket bath some mornings and this seemed to settle him for the rest of the day. He was now sleeping quite well during the night because Doctor Bryson had given him a big bottle of medicine and we were grateful he wasn’t suffering from the racking cough and pain he had during the earlier days of his illness.

One lovely night in early June when it hardly seemed to grow dark, Maddie and I sat by the side of the bed and chatted quietly.

‘I just wish that there was a cure for Grandad,’ I said, looking at the thin figure under the blankets.

Maddie gave me a sympathetic look. ‘You’ll all have to steel yourselves for the fact there will be no betterness for him, Ann. I’m sorry.’