Born Bad. Josephine Cox
we take her some?’
Leading the boy to the stall, Harry fished a handful of coins from his trouser-pocket. ‘Why don’t we get her a dozen, eh?’
A short time later, the two of them were nearly back at the car, Harry deep in thought, and the boy alongside, clutching the bunch of roses in one hand and his melting ice cream in the other.
With his sticky fingers, the boy threw the remains of the cornet to the seagulls. When they quickly swooped down and carried it away in their sharp beaks, the child was fearful. ‘You won’t let them hurt me, will you?’
Harry reassured him. ‘I would never let anyone hurt you.’ Lifting the boy into his arms, he inwardly cringed at the knowledge that soon, the boy would hurt like never before.
As he was bundled into the Hillman Minx, Tom asked, ‘Are we really taking Mammy home today?’
‘Yes, son.’ Starting the ignition, Harry fought back his tears. ‘Your mammy’s waiting for us right now, so we’d best get a move on.’ He cleared his throat.
‘Daddy?’
‘Yes, son?’
‘Why did Mammy send us away today?’
As he moved off from the kerb and into the traffic, Harry recalled how Sara had been adamant that she needed a little time, that she wasn’t ready and they must come back later. ‘I think she wanted to make herself look pretty for us,’ he said eventually, and smiled to himself.
His darling wife could be a bossy tramp when needed!
‘When we get Mammy, can we go to the park?’
‘That would be nice, but I don’t think so – not today, son.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because …’ Harry swallowed hard before going on. ‘Maybe we’d best leave it for another day.’
‘Look, Daddy! New baby ducks.’
‘I know, and I’m sure Mammy would love to do that, but … like I said, another day, eh?’
‘She will like her roses though, won’t she?’
Harry nodded.
‘Can we go to the park for my birthday next week then?’
‘Mmm.’ Harry’s thoughts were elsewhere.
The boy took his dad’s mumble as a yes. ‘Mammy said she’s got five candles for my cake. I’m a big boy now.’
Harry smiled wistfully. ‘You certainly are.’
‘I’m starting school next week.’
‘Not next week,’ Harry gently reminded him. ‘It’s next term – in September.’
‘Oh.’ The boy was downhearted.
‘Hey, Tom, don’t be like that.’ Harry glanced at the boy in his mirror. ‘It’s only a few weeks away. It’ll be here before you know it.’
The boy grinned. ‘I’ve got my red cap – and my black blazer,’ he said proudly.
Harry played along. ‘Soon you’ll be all grown up.’ He recalled the day when Sara went shopping with Tom for his uniform, and how excited their son had been. Dear God! That was such a short time ago. So much had happened in between, it seemed like a lifetime.
His thoughts retreated into the past. They say your bad deeds come home to haunt you. Was it true? he thought. When he had caused all that pain eighteen years ago, was the payback always lurking in the shadows?
Deep down, he had always known his past would return with a vengeance. After all, it was what he deserved.
But Sara did not deserve it.
And neither did their son.
For one sorry, fleeting moment, someone else crossed his mind – a girl named Judy.
Flooded with guilt, he thrust her from his mind. That was a lifetime ago.
And this was now.
The nurse was a happy young thing, with dark expressive eyes and a broad Scottish accent.
‘Just look at yourself,’ she said, holding the mirror up to Sara’s face. ‘See how bonny you are.’
While Sara checked herself in the mirror, the nurse went on, ‘Nurse Bridget has done a fantastic job with you. She knows more about make-up and fashion than I could learn in a lifetime.’
‘And I’m very grateful.’ Sara could not believe the difference in her appearance.
Nurse McDonald chatted on. ‘You do know she’s off to a fancy job as a make-up artist in one o’ them posh London salons? Apparently, when she was a bairn, she always wanted to be either a nurse or a beauty consultant. It was her dad who persuaded her to go in for the nursing. “Nurses are always in demand,” he told her, “so you’ll never be out of a job”.’
She groaned. ‘Have ye ever known a man not to interfere?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she chatted on, ‘Bridget reckons her dad’s a born interferer, like all men, always thinking they know best.’
Sara was sympathetic. ‘Dads are like that. I suppose he was only thinking of Bridget though. It sounds like he really wanted her to have a solid future.’
‘Aye … could be. Anyway, she’s leaving on Friday, and she’s happy as Larry. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad for her, but at the same time I can’t help but envy her. There she’ll be, dabbling in cosmetics and meeting rich, famous people. And there’ll be me – stuck here changing beds and emptying bedpans.’
Sara smiled at that. ‘Ah, come on, Aileen. You would never want to be anything but a nurse, would you?’
During her long and gruelling stay in hospital, Sara had come to know this kindly girl, and like all the other patients she had great respect for the staff who cared for them; each and every one a true professional. But Aileen McDonald was special; a dedicated nurse, born to care for others.
Sara reminded her now. ‘You may not realise it, but you have a real gift … a magical way that puts us all at ease.’ She glanced about the ward. ‘There isn’t one single patient here who doesn’t love you.’
The other young woman glowed with pride. ‘Do you really think so?’
Sara nodded. ‘Ask anyone here, and they’ll tell you.’
‘So, I’m good at being a nurse but I’m a real dunce at make-up, is that what you’re trying to say?’
Sara chuckled. ‘We’re all gifted in different ways. Nurse Bridget has the talent to brighten a patient’s face, while you have the God-given talent to brighten a patient’s spirits.’
Embarrassed and humbled by Sara’s remark, Nurse Aileen gave her a peck on the cheek, ‘Alright,’ she conceded, ‘I’ll admit, I’m no genius when it comes to make-up … in fact, sometimes when I’m in a rush, I can’t even put my lipstick on straight, and once when I was in an almighty rush, I got on the bus with one eyebrow plucked and the other looking like a shaggy dog. When I got out my mirror and tweezers to finish the job, I got some very peculiar looks I can tell you!’
Laughing at that, Sara then reached forward from her wheelchair and picked up the hand mirror from the bedcover where she had lain it. Taking a second glance at herself, she said, ‘I still can’t believe that’s me!’
The discreet sweep of mascara and eyebrow pencil made her brown eyes appear bright and sparkling, whereas before they had been dull and lifeless. Also, the delicate mask of cream foundation skilfully hid the dark hollows beneath her eyes, making her look even younger than her thirty-two years. Amazingly, with careful use of tinted face powder, Nurse Bridget had somehow managed to flush