The Grace Girls (17 page)

‘My father doesnae know!’ he replied. ‘I keep the suit at ma pal’s house, and I change into it there before comin’ out. He’d skin me alive if he saw it – and so would the oul’ dear!’

Kirsty laughed even harder at this information, and couldn’t wait to get off the dance floor to impart it to Heather and the other girls.

‘Any chance of me and Frankie seein’ you and Heather home the night?’ Terry asked as soon as the dance ended.

‘None whatsoever,’ Kirsty smilingly informed him, with a little friendly tap on the cheek.

‘We could just go for chips if you like,’ he suggested, walking across the dance floor with her now in the direction of her table. ‘It’s a freezin’ night and you’d be glad of them to warm you up.’

Kirsty shook her head, her blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders. ‘We’re with a crowd of our friends. Anyway, we’re not the kind of lassies that you Teddy boys would want to be seen with. We’re too tame and old-fashioned for you!’

‘Aw, c’mon now, Kirsty,’ Terry said, his hands spread out and his face looking all injured. ‘There’s nobody could ever call
you
tame . . . and anyway, I’m hardly a
real
, rowdy kind of Teddy boy.’ He leaned forward and
whispered. ‘It’s only the suit and the hair that makes me look like this.’

‘Come back in a year or two when you’ve a car and plenty of money, and I’ll think about it,’ Kirsty said airily, and then with a toss of her flowing hair added, ‘and thanks for the dance.’

Kirsty’s tale about the Teddy-boy suit being kept at the pal’s house and Heather’s recounting of the dance she had with his friend, Frankie – who had two left feet – kept the table entertained in between dances. Then, Heather had felt greatly relieved when Liz dug her in the ribs during one of the slow waltzes to point out Gerry dancing with a beautiful, small, auburn-haired girl.

‘Tell me the honest truth – does it not make you feel dead jealous when you see him with another girl?’ her friend asked. ‘Even when you go off them, you like to know they still fancy
you
the most. That’s how I feel about any of my old boyfriends.’

‘I’m delighted to see him dancing with somebody else,’ Heather said honestly, ‘and I’d be even more delighted if he started going out with somebody else. I’ve no feelings for him whatsoever.’ She paused. ‘She’s a nice-looking girl . . . I hope Gerry Stewart decides he’s better off with somebody like her than me.’

‘She’s had all the fellas after her this evening,’ Liz whispered, craning her neck to get a better look at Gerry’s partner. ‘Thank God I never saw Jim anywhere near her.’ Earlier on in the evening all the girls had been admiring her gorgeous black lace, low-necked dress, which they all said must have cost a fortune, and could only fit someone with a twenty-inch waist.

Heather stole a quick glance at them, and was surprised to see that Gerry looked quite relaxed, and was dancing easily with the stunning-looking girl, his head bent down towards her, listening attentively to whatever she was saying. And even though she tried not to look, Heather couldn’t help but notice that several dances later, he was still with the girl. Then, some time later, she watched as he went off to sit at a table with her.

‘It looks as though you finally have Gerry off your han
ds,’ Kirsty commented at the break, when they were all in the Ladies’, touching up their lipstick and checking their hair. ‘Either that, or he’s trying his best to make you jealous.’

‘Well, it hasn’t worked,’ Heather told her. ‘I’ve no interest in anything he does.’

Whether he had left or whether he was in some dark corner of the dance hall, Gerry was nowhere to be seen towards the end of the night. Liz had been delighted when Jim took her up for several dances in a row, and then suggested that they leave early. After explaining to the girls, she went off with a great bright-eyed flourish, grabbing her bag and rushing off to get her coat and things from the cloakroom.

‘Pa-thetic!’ Kirsty had pronounced as Liz swept out on Jim’s arm. ‘If I ever get like that over a fella,’ she told Heather, ‘shoot me!’

The rest of the evening passed quickly, with the girls missing only the odd dance when their feet needed a rest.

‘It wasn’t a bad night, after all,’ Heather said, as they queued to collect their hats and coats in the draughty corridor.

‘You looked as if you were enjoying yourself when you were up dancing,’ Kirsty said, dropping her voice in case any of the other girls queuing could hear her, ‘especially when you were jivin’ with the Teddy boy.’

Heather laughed as she handed her coat ticket over to the small, dumpy lady behind the counter. ‘I did enjoy myself, and I definitely felt a lot more relaxed after Gerry left,’ she admitted. ‘Did you feel you had a good night?’

‘Aye, I suppose I did,’ Kirsty said, but there was a slight note of reservation in her voice. She smiled benignly at the cloakroom attendant as she took her coat and hat from her. ‘I got several offers, but the boys all seem really young and immature at times. There’s absolutely
nobody
I’d have let see me home.’

A picture of the handsome Larry Delaney suddenly flashed into her mind, and it dawned on Kirsty that she had enjoyed herself far more in the older man’s company the other night. There were parts of the time she had spent with him that had taken a wee while to get used to, but once she had, she discovered that it was just a different way of doing things. As she looked around at all the other girls bustling around the cloakroom now, she decided that a
nything she had done with Larry was a lot more interesting
than what she was doing with all these people her own age.

‘Quick,’ Heather said, looking at her watch, ‘we’ll just make the eleven o’clock bus if we hurry.’

The girls pulled on their coats and hats, then scarves and gloves. Then the Grace sisters set off, arm in arm, into the cold, white night.

Chapter 21

Sophie, wide awake and lying silently beside her husband, was just planning how she would slide out of bed without waking him, to have the fried breakfast cooked and eaten well before ten o’clock Mass. She moved when she heard the gate bang open and the footsteps half-running, half-sliding up the path, and was pulling on her dressing-gown when she heard the doorbell ringing and the clatter of the letter box all at the same time.

‘It’s Lily!’ spluttered Patrick Grace, Mona and Pat’s gangl
y, fifteen-year-old son. He was the one that Mona sent on all the messages, being the most trustworthy and the one most intimidated by her. ‘She’s not well – she can hardly talk, she’s all hot and she complainin’ about her arms and legs. My mammy says can you come straight over and see what ye think?’

‘Fintan!’ Sophie called up the stairs. ‘Fintan!’ Then, whe
n she heard a mumbled response she called again. ‘There’s something wrong with Lily . . . I’m going across now.’

‘She was all hot and couldn’t breathe last night,’ Patrick explained as they went along, his voice coming out in little white puffs into the snowy winter air. ‘My mammy gave her aspirins and some Lucozade and she fell asleep. But when they woke this mornin’ she was just lyin’ there hardly able to talk and she couldnae move her legs very well . . .’

‘Have they phoned for the doctor?’ Sophie asked as they ran up Mona’s front path. She pulled her dressing-gown tighter over her chest, suddenly conscious of the silent but searing cold.

‘He’s still there, and he’s sent our Declan up to the priest to phone for an ambulance. He said she’ll need to go straight to the Strathclyde.’ The Strathclyde Hospital in Motherwell was the nearest General Hospital, and served Rowanhill and all the surrounding local villages.

‘Oh, dear Jesus!’ Sophie muttered to herself, feeling the clouds of worry and illness envelop her like a damp, cold blanket as she entered the house. She heard a whimpering sound coming from the kitchen, and she stopped for a moment to look in through the open door, and there, curled up in his basket and looking out at her very dolefully, was Lily’s constant compan­ion, Whiskey. Sophie made a vague comforting tutting noise at the dog, and then followed Patrick straight upstairs to where the family were all standing outside Lily’s little room.

Mona came forward to grasp her sister-in-law’s hands, an
d Sophie could feel the desperation in the tight, trembling grip. ‘It’s her arms and legs . . . Please God, it’s not polio!’ she whispered, her breath coming in little gulps. ‘P
lease God – don’t let it be that . . .’

‘No, no . . .’ said Sophie, her arms coming around Mona
. ‘Sure, that’s all over . . . there haven’t been any cases of polio this long time.’

Mona shook her head violently. ‘The doctor said there’s been another outbreak . . . they must have been keepin’ it
quiet . . . a baby and a wee boy in Motherwell just yesterday.’

‘What else did the doctor say?’ Sophie asked, dreading the reply, but feeling it was the right thing to say. Then, a bitter draught wrapped itself around her bare legs and her slippered feet as Fintan and the girls entered the house.

‘He just doesn’t know . . .’ Mona whispered. ‘He says it’s not for him to diagnose . . . that the hospital will do all the tests.’ She moved towards her daughter’s bedroom door, bringing Sophie along with her, still desperately grasping her hands.

‘Maybe it’s just the flu . . .’ Sophie suggested, but as they entered the room to see the doctor kneeling by the prone little body, she knew instantly that whatever it was, it wasn’t just the flu.

For two cold, snowy days and nights everyone held their breath, waiting on news of Lily Grace. It was as if the light and life had left the Grace family houses and all the ones surrounding them. Nobody could believe that such
a vivacious, impish little creature as Lily could suddenly be struck down in such a way.

And struck down she surely was. Within hours the local hospital realised they were not dealing with a
straightforward case of pneumonia, and murmurs among
st the doctors that Hairmyres Hospital outside Hamilton would be better equipped to diagnose the child led the whispers of polio to reach out into the hospital corridors.

One of the senior doctors who had been on duty overnight was called from his bed. His face – grim from being woken out of a much-needed, deep sleep – became grimmer when he checked over the now hot and coughing Lily. An ambulance was hurriedly arranged, and the little
girl was wheeled out on a trolley with breathing equipment
and various tubes attached to her.

Pat and Mona went along with her in the ambulance, and the boys followed closely behind in their father’s Ford Anglia. Initially, they all milled around in the unfamiliar hospital corridor as a group of doctors and nurses shut themselves away with Lily. After a while, Pat and Mona were led into a small waiting room whilst the boys were ushered out of the building to take refuge in the Anglia in the car park, as they all waited for news.

Eventually it came.

Lily Grace, it was now confirmed, had contracted the
dreaded poliomyelitis germ. It was now a matter of waitin
g to see the extent of the damage the germ had done.

Chapter 22

Heather Grace shielded her eyes against the dazzling lights of a car coming towards them on the dark country road. So far the journey had been easy, since it was as pleasant a night as you could get in December and the roads were fine and dry. A much better night than most since Lily had been brought into the hospital over a fortnight ago.

‘What did you say you’ve brought for Lily, Mammy?’ Heather checked from the back seat of her father’s car where she was sitting with her sister. ‘Was it Ludo or Snakes and Ladders?’

‘Both,’ Sophie said from the front seat, holding up a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper and tied up with white string. ‘The board has one game on one side and one on the other – so Sammy in the paper shop informed me when I bought it.’

‘I’ve got her the new
Malory Towers
book she wanted for Christmas,’ Kirsty put in, ‘so the wee devil’s gettin’ it earlier. She’ll be delighted wi’ that.’

‘And I’ve got her a teenage dressing-doll set and loads of packets of those cherub and angel scraps she likes,’ Heather said, and then she halted. ‘I nearly bought her a box of Milk Tray, then I remembered that she’s still not able t
o swallow very well . . . God love her,’ Heather added her voice cracking a little. ‘I still can’t believe it’s happened . . .
I can’t believe that wee lively soul is paralysed. I can still picture her hopping about, lifting her legs up to her chin in the country dancing.’

‘She won’t be doing any dancing for a long time,’ Kirsty said quietly. ‘She could be lucky if she’s able to walk again.’

‘She’s coming on,’ Sophie reminded the girls, ‘and that’s the most important thing to remember.’

‘Aye,’ Fintan chipped in, ‘she’s over the worst, thanks be to God and his Blessed Mother. It didn’t kill her, so we’ve a lot to be grateful for.’

A silence descended on the car as they approached the e
ntrance to Hairmyres Hospital, and then Fintan negotiate
d his way in through the gates and up to a parking space beside Lily’s ward. They got out of the car and walked towards the building.