Whispers in the Village (25 page)

‘Ron! Ron! Come on, please.’ Sheila was waiting by the car, cross that Ron was taking so long.

The moment she entered the maternity hospital Sheila became seriously agitated. She knew she wasn’t a big enough person to cope with this. She just was not. Then she remembered Saturday night’s success and decided maybe she was more capable than she felt.

It was the smell which alarmed her. Disinfectant and polish and cleanliness. At least it all looked very clean, which was more than could … The sister came to speak to them.

‘Louise Johns’s parents? Would you come this way, please?’ She took them into a side room and sat them down. ‘The baby was almost here when they arrived.’

Sheila blurted out, ‘It’s come, then. Is it all right?’

‘I’m afraid the baby is very ill.’

Ron asked the question Sheila couldn’t say for the life of her. ‘Are you … are you hopeful for it?’

‘We’re doing our best, but …’ The sister closed her lips and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

Sheila, desperate to know more, managed to say, ‘Is it perfect, but come too early?’

‘Too early and not perfect.’

Bile rose in Sheila’s throat. ‘Can you
see
it’s not … perfect?’

‘Yes.’

Ron asked, ‘What is it?’

‘A boy.’

‘Just what she wanted. Can we see her?’

‘It’ll be a while before you can see her.’

Sheila asked, ‘Can we see the baby?’

‘Not at the moment. He’s being assessed.’

They waited an hour and a half to see Louise. She was whiter than white, if that were possible, all her natural rosy colour hidden by a kind of grey sweat, her hair straggled across the pillow in the most unbecoming way, and she was gripping Gilbert’s hand as though her very life depended on it.

‘Louise, I’m so sorry. So sorry.’ Sheila leaned over and kissed her, then stood back for Ron to do the same.

‘We’ll get through this. We’ve to be grateful for the five lovely ones you’ve already got.’ Ron kissed her, too. He then went to the other side of the bed and gripped Gilbert’s shoulder. ‘I’m very, very sad for you both, Gilbert. Is there anything we can do?’

Gilbert mustered up some courage from somewhere and said cheerfully, ‘Would you like to see the baby? We’ve called him Roderick. He’s a grand little chap and fighting hard.’

When Sheila saw the baby she almost cried out in her agony. Grand little chap? Fighting hard? How on earth could Gilbert think for one single moment this tiny scrap of a human being would survive?

He was in an incubator, wired up all over the place, tubes and pipes and plastic this and that, even tubes up his tiny nostrils, and machines whirring away. His little chest was pumping up and down very fast. He was so tiny, there was nothing of him to do any fighting. Gilbert was deluding himself. She couldn’t describe all the things that appeared to her to be wrong with him. They were too terrible and too numerous to count. Why couldn’t they cover him with a blanket to hide some of his problems? Though he didn’t need covering to keep him warm, the temperature in the unit was extremely high. Sheila began to feel faint.

Ron had to take her out. He shook his head at Gilbert, who seemed mesmerized by what had happened. Gilbert followed them out and in answer to the shake of the head Ron gave him said, ‘They’ll pull him round, don’t you worry. They work miracles nowadays. He’s got a good team fighting on his side.’

Ron burst out, ‘Is that the kindest thing to do? To
fight
for him?’

Gilbert’s eyes were cold when he answered. ‘Of course. He’s our baby and whatever he needs he’ll get.
Don’t
say a word of how you feel to Louise, I won’t have it.’

‘Of course not. Of course not.’ Ron gripped Sheila’s arm even more tightly and placed a finger against her lips. ‘Not a word. OK?’

‘Does she know?’ Sheila whispered to Gilbert.

‘Of course she knows. It’s going to be a long hard fight, but he has brothers and sisters who’ll help him, and parents who want him and love him. He’s our flesh and blood, and don’t forget he’s yours too. He’s going to be fine.’

In desperation Sheila gripped his arm and said softly, ‘Oh, Gilbert, don’t ask it of him, it isn’t fair.’

Gilbert brushed her hand from his arm and said emphatically, as though convincing himself as well as them, ‘He’s ours, and he’s going to live. Believe me. Whatever it costs. And don’t say that to Louise. Do you hear?’

‘He hasn’t the will to fight, Gilbert. He’s no strength.’ She didn’t dare mention his disabilities, but in her mind she could see his twisted feet and that appalling harelip.

‘He has. I’ll go talk to him if you’ll stay with Louise.’

Ron and Sheila stayed with Louise until lunch-time and then went home to care for the children. Before he left Ron bent over the bed and whispered in Louise’s ear, ‘Take care, love. Don’t be too disappointed if things don’t work out as you’d like. He’s very frail. Very frail. Perhaps the good Lord in his wisdom’ll take him back for his sake and he’ll be one of His angels.’

‘Shut up, Dad, you’re being ridiculous. Give the children my love.’ She took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it in the most loving gesture she’d given him since she was a little girl. Ron went out blowing his nose, and stood in the corridor, hands clenched by his sides, hoping Sheila wouldn’t be long.

Sheila wasn’t. She gave Louise a peck on the cheek, gripped her hand and said, ‘Don’t be too disappointed, it might be all for the best. He looks so poorly.’

Louise burst into tears and cried, ‘Gilbert! Gilbert!’

So Sheila left the two of them hugging each other, weeping together. She looked back at them from the door and couldn’t bear to witness such appalling grief. They didn’t deserve it. Ron was waiting; he wouldn’t be crying. But he was.

They had to see the children. They’d stay with them in Keepers Cottage; they’d feel safer there with all their own things about them. Someone had to be strong. Baby Oliver, not yet one year old, missed Louise the most and caused the biggest problem. When it came to putting him in his cot he howled. Missing his nightly routine with Louise, too young to have anything explained to him, he was inconsolable. The older ones seemed to accept her and Ron putting them to bed, despite their ineptitude at coping with so many children. Finally they were all asleep except for young Gilbert. ‘Nana, will Mummy be better soon?’

‘Yes. She will. She’ll be back home in no time taking care of you all.’

‘When Daddy spoke on the phone he said the baby was very, very poorly.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘Nana, will the baby be coming home?’ Young Gilbert pulled the duvet up and snuggled down. ‘Do you think, perhaps, he won’t ever come home?’

‘Well, not yet a while. We’ll have to wait and see.’

‘I think he’s too poorly to come home. He is, isn’t he? He’s not coming home, is he?’

‘We’ll have to be patient, but don’t build up your hopes just yet.’

‘I see. Perhaps he’s an angel, come down to earth by mistake. Say it, Nana. Say it.’

Sheila tucked the duvet round his shoulders. ‘Sleep tight and mind the bugs don’t bite.’

She heaved herself down the stairs and went into Louise’s kitchen to make a cup of tea for her and Ron. She stood leaning against the worktop, looking round while she waited for the kettle. This kitchen was only half the size of her own. Same with the living room. She could have sat an army down in her own and here was Louise coping with this little house and five, her mind shied away from saying six, children. The very best thing they could do was swap houses with her and Gilbert. It would be Louise’s anyway in time, because her brother never communicated, was wealthy beyond belief and didn’t need a thing she and Ron might, in time, leave behind them.

Once all the upset was over, she’d suggest it to Ron. Give Louise something to focus on. Something to think about, because that baby wouldn’t survive no matter how much loving attention he got. In fact, he mustn’t survive, for his own sake, the poor little scrap. The kettle whistling brought her to her senses and, as she watched the crystal-clear water pouring into the teapot, it brought to mind christening the baby.

‘They’ll have to get it done, Ron, without a shadow of a doubt. Can’t waste any time. Here’s your tea.’

Ron sank gratefully down into a chair with his cup. ‘We’ll have to suggest it very carefully.’

‘I know that. But the others were all christened so we’ve to make things the same, before it’s too late.’

‘You’re right.’

‘The other thing is this: how about us and Louise swapping houses?’

‘Eh? What?’

‘Look here, Ron, we don’t need a cottage the size of ours. Your Union speaking jobs and such are coming to a close—’

‘Just a minute—’

‘Well they are, you know that and so do I. When was the last time we had anybody staying for a meeting or whatever. When did the TV ring up and ask for your opinion? Ages ago! When did the Union last send for you for your advice? Even longer ago. This small house might not have as much style as ours, but it would be enough for the two of us, wouldn’t it? And they need it.’

‘Well, their garden wouldn’t take as much looking after. It would cut down on our heating bills too, and the community charge, wouldn’t it?’

‘Exactly. Christening first and then moving house.’

‘You’ve missed out a rather important factor there. There’s Roderick, remember?’

‘I haven’t forgotten Roderick, but it will take Louise’s mind off things, won’t it?’

‘You might think it’s a good idea but what about Gilbert? He might not.’

‘Oh, you and Gilbert. You’ll just have to give in and do it. I’m determined. They need our big bedrooms; we certainly don’t, now do we?’

Ron thought about how heavy the spade had seemed when he’d sorted out their endless flowerbeds for the winter. Gilbert, with his physique, would have them sorted in no time at all. He was used to digging, being an archaeologist. Perhaps Sheila was right. But he’d put it off for a while. ‘All in good time, Sheila. We mustn’t rush things. They’re very distressed right now.’

‘Oh, I know. So am I.’ She burst into tears, put down her cup and cried as though her heart was breaking, which it was, for all of them. Herself included. That beautiful picture she always had in her mind of Gilbert and Louise wandering happily through a wood carpeted with bluebells and the children scattered about playing, with the sun shining through the trees and looking so enviable and perfect, had shattered into fragments. She’d see Anna first thing, then she remembered she was no longer the free agent she’d been for years. First she’d have five children to feed and dress before she went anywhere at all. To say nothing of the daily washing machine routine. As she carried the tea tray back to the kitchen, she thought about Roderick’s tiny toes and how sweet those tiny toes would have been if only his feet were perfect … Life for the whole family would be a living hell. And for poor little Roderick, a hell he didn’t deserve. Years ago he would have died almost immediately and he’d have been back with God where he truly belonged. She mopped her eyes, blew her nose, straightened her shoulders and accepted her burden.

Gilbert had already rung Anna and told her of their situation. ‘Could you come? Louise wants the baby baptised as of now, and what she wants she gets at the moment.’

‘Gilbert, I’m so sorry, I hadn’t heard. Of course I’ll come. Today. Lunchtime. Will you want Sheila and Ron there? Of course you will, I shouldn’t need to ask. One o’clock?’

‘Can I ring you back? We shan’t want the children there and Ron and Sheila are caring for them at the moment so I’ll have to organize them all. Parcel them out. I’ll ring back.’

So when one o’clock came they were gathered at the hospital. Roderick looked so sweet with his tiny blue woollen hat on his tiny head in spite of the machines and the bleeping and the tubes. The unspoken words in everyone’s mind were – if only everything was all right. But it wasn’t, as they all knew.

Anna conducted a lovely service, so poignant and tender, with soft, loving words, full of meaning, which tore the heart. Ron and Sheila stood in as godparents and though it only lasted a few minutes they felt they’d done the right thing. Ron wheeled Louise back to her room and they all had a glass of champagne and drank a toast.

‘To Roderick, our dear little son, God bless him.’

Before she left Anna kissed Louise, then Sheila, then Ron and last of all Gilbert.

She lingered for a moment with her hand on his arm to say, ‘Keep strong. They all need someone like you.’

But it was Sheila who kept strong and held them together, not Gilbert. He was too distraught.

In years past, no one had had much sympathy for Louise and still looked upon her as the troublemaker she’d been when she first came to the village, but the generosity in their hearts overrode that when they heard of little Roderick and all his problems.

‘Dottie’s working all hours helping Sheila and Ron. I understand there’s no improvement in that little babe, poor little mite,’ Greta Jones said on the Friday afternoon after Roderick was born.

Angie Turner, leaning against the big desserts freezer in the Store, said, ‘Well, Dottie’s lining her pockets, I can tell yer. I’m told Ron is paying her in gold bars, that glad they are to have her. Gilbert’s got three weeks’ leave, saw him getting out of his car at the rectory the other day. He was always lean before, but he’s more like a walking skelling-ton now. Looked terrible, he did.’