A Lesser Evil (22 page)

Fifi wept then, and Dan moved his wheelchair closer so he could hold her and cry with her.

Later Fifi tried to tell him how it had all come about: falling down in the street, her fright at the storm, and finally seeing Alfie on the garden wall.

‘I suppose I must have thought he was coming to hurt me,’ she finished up. ‘But I don’t really remember what I thought, or what happened after. Apart from Frank being in the ambulance with me.’

‘Frank came to see me this morning, just after they told me you’d been brought in last night,’ Dan said. ‘He looked rough, I think he’d been here all night, and they didn’t want to let him in as it wasn’t visiting hour, but he insisted. He said that the first thing you said when you came round in the ambulance was that Alfie was on the back wall.’

‘I suppose you both think I imagined that,’ she said tearfully. ‘But I didn’t, I saw him as clear as day in a flash of lightning. Why would he climb along that wall in a thunderstorm unless it was for something bad?’

‘Frank doesn’t think you imagined it. He was going home to check if the honeysuckle that grows up on the wall was trampled on. But Alfie was probably only doing a bit of peeping Tom. He couldn’t hope to get into the house that way, Frank keeps his back door locked and bolted. But Frank told me that you came back from Bristol on Friday night, not Saturday. Why didn’t you tell me that, Fifi?’

Fifi was sorry he had to learn it through Frank, but she supposed she’d have had to tell him eventually.

‘Because I had a row with my mum and I didn’t want you to worry about it.’

She saw in his face that he knew the row was about him. ‘I hope she’ll be proud of herself when I ring her to tell her what’s happened to you.’

‘She didn’t make it happen.’

‘She let you come home all upset and alone,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me that wasn’t the start of it all, because I know it was. You weren’t yourself yesterday, I knew something had upset you. And now we’ve lost our baby, and that’s going to take longer for you to get over than breaking your wrist.’

Dr Hendry came back the following morning to see Fifi and found her feeling very sorry for herself. He wasn’t surprised; she probably hadn’t slept well because of the pain in her wrist, and her body was bruised and battered. But it was clear to him that her aches and pains were secondary to losing her baby.

‘It wasn’t a planned baby,’ she blurted out to him, almost as if she felt she had miscarried as a kind of judgment. ‘I’d only just started to feel glad about it. What was wrong with me that I lost my grip in a thunderstorm? Aren’t pregnant women supposed to stay calm and protect their baby from harm?’

Hendry was over sixty, and in half a lifetime of medicine he’d seen many women blaming themselves this way after losing a child.

‘My experience is that miscarriages happen regardless of how well cared for the mother is,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve seen women deliver healthy babies after far worse accidents than yours, and, contrary-wise, lose them for no apparent reason at all. You mustn’t blame yourself, Mrs Reynolds, and there is absolutely no reason to suppose that in a few months’ time you can’t carry another baby to full term.’

He went on to say he wanted to keep her in under observation for a week.

‘I can’t stay here that long,’ Fifi exclaimed in horror. ‘Dan’s going home tomorrow and he needs someone to look after him.’

Hendry had already spoken to Dan Reynolds, and although he knew about the vicious attack, and that this attractive young couple didn’t live under the best of conditions, he had to smile at Mrs Reynolds’ belief her husband couldn’t cope without her. To him, Dan Reynolds looked the type to sail through any amount of disasters and still keep smiling and cracking jokes.

‘Your husband doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who needs looking after, but anyway, we’re going to keep him in for another day or two,’ he said. ‘You’ve both had too much to cope with all at once – you need rest before you start trying to get back to normal.’

On Monday afternoon Fifi lay in the hospital bed waiting for Dan to visit her. It had rained heavily all day on Sunday, but the sun was shining again now, showing up the rain-smeared windows. She’d grown used to the weight of the plaster on her arm, though not to washing her face or cleaning her teeth with her left hand. But the loss of her baby was just as raw; each time she put her hand on her stomach she was reminded that there was no little person growing in there any more.

She knew now that her ward was a gynaecology ward, all twelve women either waiting for an operation, hysterectomies in the main, or recovering from one. The youngest patient was eighteen; she had come over to talk to Fifi and said she had a cyst on one of her ovaries which they’d be operating on tomorrow. The oldest was in her sixties.

As Fifi had never been in hospital before she had no way of knowing whether this ward was better or worse than other kinds, but one of the nurses had said it was her favourite as the patients were usually cheerful and rarely desperately ill.

Fifi had wondered whether that was a gentle way of telling her to buck up and be jolly because she wasn’t ill, but she couldn’t summon the will to chat or laugh as most of the other women were doing. Frank had visited her the previous evening with Yvette, bringing the nightdress, dressing-gown and toiletries Fifi had asked Miss Diamond to get for her. Frank had brought some flowers from his garden and a box of Roses chocolates, Yvette some glossy magazines and a little bottle of flowery-smelling French cologne. They had brought get-well cards from various people in the street, and Stan had put together a little basket of fruit. Miss Diamond had written on her card that she would be happy to help Fifi with dressing and anything else she couldn’t do one-handed when she got home, and that if she wanted any shopping she had only to give Frank a list.

It was very touching to see so many people cared about her and Dan, yet all the fussing, questions and attention just made Fifi feel worse. She thought she would give anything to be tucked away in a room by herself, where the only visitor was Dan.

The ward door opened and visitors came surging through, smiling and waving as they spotted their mother, wife, sister or friend.

All at once Fifi saw her mother and father among them. She could hardly believe her eyes, for they were the last people she’d expected to visit.

Her father normally wore an old tweed jacket with his pipe tucked into the breast pocket, corduroy trousers and brown leather brogues, and he looked right in them. But today he was wearing what he considered to be his best suit, a dark grey pinstripe. Fifi and Patty had always sniggered about it behind his back for it was a wartime style with wide lapels and very baggy trousers.

That he’d chosen to wear it to visit her was an indication of his state of mind, for he only ever dressed up when he was anxious about something.

Her mother was dressed up too, in a pale blue costume with high heels, gloves and a boater-style straw hat. But this was quite normal for her when she went out for the day.

Fifi didn’t know how she felt about them coming. She’d told Dan not to ring them, but clearly he’d done so anyway.

‘You poor darling,’ Clara exclaimed, swooping over to the bed in a flamboyant display of maternal affection. ‘What a terrible ordeal you’ve been through. We are so sorry.’

‘Why are you?’ Fifi asked sharply. She thought her mother had to be the most insincere woman on the planet. ‘You should be glad there is no baby any more.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ her father said testily. ‘Your mother’s been distraught ever since Dan phoned.’

‘I’m surprised she could even bring herself to speak to him,’ Fifi said sullenly.

‘It was me who spoke to him,’ her father said reprovingly. ‘And I’m sure Dan will assure you that I was very upset to hear about your fall and the subsequent miscarriage. If we’d got the call earlier yesterday we would have come right away.’

‘If only you hadn’t run off in a huff on Friday,’ Clara butted in, ‘this might not have happened.’

‘What you should be saying is, “If only I hadn’t been so nasty to you”,’ Fifi corrected her. ‘I’m a married woman now. If you can’t accept Dan and try to like him, then I don’t want anything to do with you.’

‘I understand how you feel,’ her father said quickly, glancing at his wife as if warning her not to retaliate. ‘But you must try and understand what you put us through by getting married in secret. We couldn’t help but think badly of Dan, it was all so furtive. However, when I spoke to him on the telephone yesterday I was pleasantly surprised by how sensitive he is, and it was obvious to me that he loves you. So I’m very sorry I misjudged him and in future I shall try to get to know him better.’

Fifi was very glad to hear that, but she could see by her mother’s tight expression that this wasn’t a joint change of heart. ‘Well, perhaps you could start by going to see him while you are here?’ she said.

‘Of course we will,’ her father said. ‘I was going to suggest to him that you both come home to recuperate when you leave the hospital. You are going to find it quite hard going without the use of your right hand, and Patty and the boys will be delighted to see you and help you.’

Fifi was very taken aback by this U-turn, and moved that her father was doing his best to make everything right between them. She almost wanted to agree to his suggestion, if only to show him she didn’t bear a grudge. But she knew that neither she nor Dan could cope with all the stuff that would come with being at home.

‘That’s very sweet of you, Dad,’ she said. ‘I appreciate the thought, but I think we’ll manage all right in our flat. The neighbours are very kind, and I’ll need to pop into the office too. I know I can’t type but I could show willing by offering to do filing or something.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Clara exclaimed. ‘You won’t be fit for work for weeks. And they won’t keep your job open for you anyway, so there’s nothing to keep you in London.’

‘There’s our home,’ Fifi said sharply, astounded that her mother could be so grossly insensitive. ‘And I think they will keep my job open. If you’re thinking we haven’t got any money to live on, we have. We’ve got some savings. You see, we
were
responsible.’

‘I can see there’s no talking to you,’ Clara said curtly. ‘We might as well have stayed at home.’

At that Fifi began to cry. All she wanted was a hug and some sympathy that she’d lost her baby, surely any woman would understand that?

‘There now, Fifi.’ Her father took out his handkerchief and tried to dry her eyes. He looked ill at ease and awkward, but he’d never been much good at emotional scenes. ‘I don’t really know what to say. I’m so sorry about the baby, and so is your mother, but she’s a bit overwrought at the moment.’

‘Go home,’ Fifi said, still crying. ‘I’m overwrought too, with a lot more reason than Mum. And don’t let her anywhere near Dan, he’s been through enough already.’

Clara turned and walked away, her slender back stiff with indignation. Harry just stood there, looking completely out of his depth.

‘You’d better go after her, Dad,’ Fifi said, sniffing back her tears. ‘Or she’ll be making your life hell too.’

‘It’s guilt that makes her that way,’ he said sadly, bending over to kiss Fifi’s forehead. ‘She’s blaming herself for you losing the baby, but she can’t unbend enough to say so.’

‘I don’t think I care enough about her any more to try and understand,’ Fifi said brokenly. ‘All I did was marry the man I love. Was that so very terrible?’

Fifi walked slowly up the stairs behind Dan who was carrying her small bag containing the things she’d had brought into the hospital. ‘

Everything’s spotless,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘Yvette came over yesterday and removed all signs of the mess I’d made while I was on my own. She even cleaned the cooker.’

Fifi could smell polish and cleaning fluids, and she knew that the flat bore no resemblance to how it was the day they moved in back in May. But she had the same feeling of trepidation she’d experienced that day; she didn’t feel glad she was home.

‘That was kind of her,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m amazed she knows how to clean as she never does her own place.’ She knew that was a shabby jibe, but she couldn’t help herself.

‘Everyone’s been very kind,’ Dan said with just a hint of reproach in his voice. ‘Miss Diamond has made us a beef casserole for supper, I’ve only got to heat it up.’ Fifi sniffed disdainfully at this, but Dan went on, ‘Stan’s brought you flowers, and Frank’s brought you some magazines to read.’

Fifi said nothing more, just went into the living room and sat down. It was, as Dan had claimed, spotless. The flowers from Stan were beautiful, roses and pink carnations, clearly arranged in the vase by Yvette.

‘Cup of tea?’ Dan asked. Fifi nodded. She didn’t want to be like this, all sullen and hateful, especially to Dan who had been so brave and uncomplaining about his injuries, but she felt so miserable she just couldn’t help it.

While Dan was out on the landing putting the kettle on, she glanced out of the window and saw Molly Muckle coming out of her house with Mary, the oldest girl. Molly yelled at the top of her voice to Alan, Joan and Angela who were playing down the end of the street by the coal yard. The stridency of her voice made Fifi wince and she wished she had agreed to go home to her parents’ house. How on earth was she going to fill the days here until her plaster came off ? She couldn’t use her right hand, and even if she could, what was there to do?

She thought she’d probably go mad with boredom cooped up in the flat. At least at home she could have sunbathed in the garden and gone to see a few old friends. Dale Street looked so dirty and depressing, and she didn’t want to see any of her neighbours because she knew they’d all be clucking with sympathy over her. How could she explain to anyone how hopeless she felt?

If she looked back, her whole life seemed to have had no point to it, and she could see nothing ahead but more of the same. A baby would have changed everything, they would have moved from here and had all the excitement of turning the new place into a home. The savings they’d got were going to be eaten up while neither she nor Dan could work, and it would probably be another couple of years before they’d be in a position again to buy a place.