Annie's Promise (14 page)

Annie nodded. The screen was cold in her hand, she breathed deeply, eased herself through, saw the doctor, walked to Georgie who was so clean, so very small somehow, and there was no colour in his face or in his skin.

She laid her hand on his cold fingers which were unhurt though nowhere else seemed to be except his face, his beautiful face. His legs were in splints, there were hot water bottles around his body, a cage to keep the weight of the blankets off. She could smell the shock on him.

‘John Smythe, you won’t remember me, I was a Junior when you were here.’ The doctor’s voice was warm, gentle,
his eyes were almost the same colour as Tom’s. He looked so young.

‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Just tell me what you’ve done and what needs doing.’

She listened as he explained how Frank had saved George’s life by leaning on the femoral artery the moment he reached him. ‘He’d have died then, without his mate,’ the doctor said, standing the other side of Georgie, feeling the pulse in his neck. Annie did too. It was so faint.

‘Look, how honest do you want me to be?’ Dr Smythe said quietly. ‘How much can you take?’

‘As much as I have to.’

‘OK then. I tied the artery, cleaned up the legs, the abdomen. The bones have torn through on both legs. The right is badly splintered, the left not so bad. Lots of dust and debris deep in. I’ve given him a heart stimulant. His chest is bruised but seems OK. His abdomen likewise. It’s his legs. If he lives I’ll try to save his legs. If being a very big word Annie. He’s very poorly, lost too much blood, very damaged and is too shocked to operate yet.’ He paused. ‘Now, if we don’t operate he’s no chance. If I do, he has some chance so we just have to wait and hope that he comes out of shock soon enough to get him into theatre.’

Sarah was in the back seat, sitting with Betsy, not talking, no one was, not even Davy, not even Rob who sat in the front and read the map. Reading made her sick, made her throw up and she wanted to be sick now. Why, when she wasn’t reading? She felt the cold sweat come again.

Sarah looked at the lunch-box in her hand. Why did she still have that? She shoved it from her lap and heard the clink of the stones they had collected from the river, heard the clatter of the spoon she had used to eat her strawberries. She’d probably been eating them and laughing while her da was … She felt the cold sweat again, the bile and now she was sick all over her lap, all over Bet, who mopped up and
poured water from the flask Gracie handed over the seat saying, ‘It’s the shock.’

Davy gave her his handkerchief and she leaned back against Bet, feeling tired but she mustn’t feel tired, not while her da was hurt because he was only hurt, nobody had said he was dead. No, not like Norma’s dad. But on the hill Davy had said people died and Terry had said …

‘Nearly there, we’re nearly there.’ Aunt Gracie said.

They were shown to the bench where Tom stood, where Frank sat and the grown ups talked of the river, of the wild flowers they had seen, drawn, of the diaries she and Davy would make for the teacher. They didn’t talk of Da, why didn’t they talk of Da? She sat and didn’t listen to them any more. She sat and watched the nurses in their uniforms carrying charts, bringing them tea.

‘No thank you,’ she said. ‘I want to see me da. Where’s me mam?’

Gracie pulled her on to her lap but she was too old for that, stupid woman. Stupid, stupid, woman. ‘Your mam’s with your da.’

I want to be with me da, she wanted to shout and struggled to push herself from Gracie’s lap but she was held firmly, soothed, when all she wanted was to be with her da.

A sister came and talked to Tom and he nodded, speaking quietly so that Sarah couldn’t hear. Stupid man, stupid, stupid man. He turned. ‘Come on, Sarah, let’s go and find your mam.’

He took her hand and it felt good. They walked together, following the sister through the swing doors while he told her that her da was very ill. They wanted to operate but he was just too ill at the moment, she must be brave and help her mother.

They went up in the lift and she left her stomach behind. She’d done that when they went to the department store in Newcastle, trying to sell those knickers, those stupid, stupid knickers.

‘You’ll see your mother in a moment. She’ll be able to talk
to you, to tell you more. Your mother is well known here, she was a wonderful nurse,’ the sister said, putting her hand on her shoulder and now Sarah wanted to cry, wanted to stop the lift and run out anywhere, run and run and not hear what her mother had to say.

The lift stopped, the doors opened and there was another long corridor but it was lighter. They walked and the sister’s shoes slurped on the lino. They waited outside the door. Tom sat down, his face looked so old. Gracie’s had looked old too. Sarah walked up the corridor, her shoes were slurping too. Where was her mam? How was her da? She felt the cold sweat again, saw Norma again, heard Davy’s voice telling her that people died, heard Terry telling her that her mam should have nursed.

She waited and waited and then her mother came out, her eyes red. She looked at Sarah and held out her arms. ‘He’s alive, my love, your da’s alive, so far.’

Sarah ran at her then, reached her, hit her, slapped her, screamed at her as her mother reeled back. ‘It’s your fault. You should have been a nurse, shouldn’t you? If you were so wonderful you should have been a nurse.’

Tom was up now, holding her arms down, lifting her off the ground as Annie was pushed against the wall. ‘For God’s sake, Sarah,’ he said but Annie came to Sarah, held her, hugged her, and now Sarah wept, clung to her mother, sobbing and Annie looked up at Tom. ‘It’s all right, bonny lad. It’s just too much for her, it’s all too much and isn’t she only doing what we all want to do – kick and scream and weep?’

Sarah and Annie drank tea that the sister brought. There was sugar in it. ‘For shock,’ the sister said.

Annie pulled a face when she had gone and Sarah laughed and leant against her mother, listening as Annie told her that they would stay because the doctor wanted to operate. ‘If Da is well enough.’

‘If he isn’t?’ Sarah asked.

‘We’ll have to see.’

Annie took Sarah back into the room with her and they sat one side, with a nurse the other, and talked to him, though he never moved and they could scarcely see, or hear him breathing. Sarah listened as Annie talked of the fright Tom and Frank had given her when they had staggered in from Olympia, how Tom had fought and become well, how the hospital had fought with him, how they would fight with Georgie too.

Sarah told him of her day at the river. The nets the teachers had bought out of the money from the jumble sale they had held last term, how they paddled, how he must get better soon, then they could all go paddling. She looked at Annie, who nodded at her to go on, and Sarah saw that her eyes were full of tears. She turned quickly, not wanting to see this because her mother mustn’t cry – mothers didn’t cry because if they did, there was nothing safe in the world.

Annie listened, dabbing her eyes as Sarah turned away. The anger had left the child, just as she had known it would.

Annie talked of the letters Georgie had written to her of the plains of Lahore, the corporal’s stripe he’d got out of the fighting between the Muslims and the Sikhs – of the Himalayas; the clouds which gathered and dispersed, the geese and ducks that flew overhead, the bullock carts plodding by the stations, the musk-roses.

‘Can you smell them, my love?’ she murmured, nodding as Tom beckoned for Sarah to go and eat, shaking her head, feeling the pulse in his neck. Was it stronger now?

The nurse checked again too. She thought so too, the doctor also when he was called. Annie helped to refill and replace the hot water bottles, then talked on and on as the hours passed – of the white beams with their huge leaves and fruit which changed to colours of the English autumn and which he’d loved. Of the rhododendrons which were purple, not red as those at the convent were – and now she remembered that she had not told Don of his accident.

The doctor checked again, talked quietly to the nurse, left,
brought back an older man who examined Georgie, then smiled at Annie.

‘I’m Mr Adcock, the Consultant. I examined your husband when he first arrived. We’re going to try and operate now. We’ll take him into X-ray first but he’s too shaky for thorough surgery.’

Annie nodded. ‘Please let me fetch my daughter. She must see him – just in case.’ Because otherwise she knew that anger could erupt again, and a resentment would be born that would never die.

Mr Adcock turned to the nurse. ‘Bring Mrs Armstrong and her daughter down to X-ray, they can catch up with us there. Hurry though.’

They did catch up, they kissed him, touched his hand, though he never moved. Then they sat with Tom, though not the others because Gracie had taken them home, to sleep or to try. Georgie was brought out of theatre and he was still alive, Mr Adcock said in his white gown and cap.

‘He has four broken ribs, lacerations of the abdomen, arms, back. I’ve patched, cleaned and set the right leg, cleaned and sealed the left, and injected a saline solution.’ He nodded to the nurse who called Sarah over to hold the door for her as she carried things in and out.

Annie stood now, Tom with her, his arm around her shoulders as Mr Adcock lowered his voice.

‘I couldn’t do more. He was sinking. We’ve just got to hope that he keeps holding on. I’ve asked nurse to make up a bed for you and the child. You too, Mr Ryan?’

Tom shook his head and Annie too. ‘No, we’ll wait, but Sarah must sleep.’

They sat for the next two days as Georgie sank and rallied and sank. Don came, sat with them, said how sorry he was, brought fruit. They didn’t talk. It was too much effort. Don left. They waited, waited, and Annie held Sarah who had slept the first night, but then not again. She stayed with them. Georgie rallied and Adcock said that if he lasted another night he would have a chance and he smiled, for the
first time, and the hours crept by until the dawn broke and Georgie was still alive and now Annie dared to hope.

Georgie opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming into the room and saw shapes to the right and left – what were they? He looked up – what was that? He lay and could feel nothing beneath him or above him. He could hear nothing, he just saw. He looked up again and slowly he knew it was a ceiling. He looked to the left and saw a jug, to the right, a person. It moved. It smiled. It was a woman, a nurse.

He could feel the sheet beneath his back. He moved his fingers and touched the sheet which lay on the frame. He spoke and his voice seemed too loud in the silence and the light.

‘Where am I? Where’s Annie?’ and then darkness came again, floating him away to a warmth which nursed him.

Annie came in when the nurse beckoned and sat with him, pulling Sarah to her, holding her child against her because they must share each moment as it happened.

She spoke softly to Georgie, Sarah too and then paused, knowing that to listen, even sub-consciously, was tiring now that he was back with them.

That night she slept in the bed next to Sarah because Georgie’s colour was better, his breathing, his pulse too and there was no pain. So far there was no pain.

Georgie woke before dawn and all he could hear was a clicking noise. The light was on above his bed, the nurse sat quietly, knitting. His mother used to knit, Annie too before
she had to cut and sew and now he was remembering the past, Manners, the business. He stirred.

‘I must be up tomorrow. I must be back at work. I need to work.’ His voice was a croak, his throat was sore. Why was that? ‘What’s wrong with my voice?’

‘You’ve had an operation,’ the nurse said, putting her knitting to one side, feeling his pulse, putting her hand on his forehead. ‘Any pain?’

Georgie shook his head. ‘No, so I must be better, I need to work.’

The nurse said, ‘Sh, no need to worry about work. There’s plenty of time for that.’

‘There’s no time, no time.’ But he was drifting again, sinking in the comfortable warmth and darkness.

Annie ate breakfast in the staff canteen, a breakfast which she had not been hungry for, but which she must eat for then Sarah would eat. The bacon was as she remembered, the tinned tomatoes too. She let Sarah pick up the rind and eat it with her fingers.

‘I wish it was crisp,’ Sarah said, chewing it, pulling a face.

‘It never was,’ Annie smiled, nodding to the Staff Nurse who had taken her up to Georgie on his first day.

‘Mum, why didn’t you nurse?’ Sarah said quietly, laying the rind on the side of her plate, wiping her fingers on her napkin.

‘Because it seemed better at the time for your father to go into the mine. It was just one of those things and perhaps it was a mistake but we must just try and put it behind us, try and live each day as it comes, help your father to recover. Perhaps you should try to finish that diary of the school trip, then you could show it to Da.’ Annie drank her tea and longed for a cigarette to calm the ache in her chest because she knew it had been a mistake, of course it had been a mistake, but how do you tell a child her father wanted the edge above all else? You couldn’t, especially now, because Sarah had said her father can’t have really wanted to go
back down if he loved her. Bet had said that it would all fade in time and so it would, it had to.

They sat with him while he slept and talked gently to him and Sarah promised him her finished diary. He opened his eyes and smiled at them, returning the pressure of their fingers and they talked gently, watching his eyes become heavy lidded, his mouth become slack as he drifted, then came back.

‘I’ve got to get back to work.’

‘Plenty of time for that,’ Annie said, knowing that it would be months, if ever, though she had promised Sarah that he would never go into the pit again.

That evening Tom took Sarah back to Wassingham to sleep in Annie’s old room next to Davy. ‘It’s school for you, young lady,’ Annie insisted, ‘and yes, don’t worry, you’ll be here tomorrow evening and I’ll ring if I need you. I promise.’

She watched them go, feeling Tom’s kiss on her cheek, Bet’s too then sat with Georgie, sitting opposite the nurse, smiling when Dr Smythe came in, nodding as he said, ‘So far, so good. Out of danger as I said this morning but we’ll need to look at those legs again soon.’ He checked the chart, smiled at Annie. ‘Will you be all right here? I know you’re competent. I must talk to nurse for a moment.’