Forgotten Child. Kitty Neale
‘What? Oh no! Is he all right?’
‘He’s with the doctor. I’ve got to get back.’
‘Wait!’ Delia cried, but was left listening to the dialling tone.
For a moment Delia was frozen to the spot, but then she came back to life, grabbed her car keys and dashed out of the house. She made good progress at first but once on the main road the traffic increased and her speed slowed. The last thing she’d expected when Robin had gone out with his father was such a phone call. All she’d been concerned about was her plan to bring Edward down.
The traffic lights turned to red and Delia almost screamed with impatience. She had to get to the hospital – had to find out if Robin was all right. What if his injuries were so bad that he…he…No, she wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about that.
Delia’s heart was thumping with anxiety when at last she arrived. After a frantic enquiry at reception she was directed to another room where a nurse led her to a cubicle and pulled back the curtain.
‘Robin…Robin,’ she cried, horrified to see that her son was deathly pale and that his arm was in a splint.
The only response was a groan. Stricken, she looked at Edward. ‘Is…is he going to be all right?’
‘I don’t know what’s going on; only that he’s going to theatre. They’re worried he may have internal injuries, and he’s got a compound fracture of his lower arm.’
Delia burst into tears. Edward stood up and led her to the vacant chair beside Robin, urging her to sit down as she gasped, ‘Wh…what happened?’
‘A bloody fool of a driver shot out of a side street at speed without checking the road was clear. He slammed into the passenger side and Robin took the brunt of the collision.’
‘Oh, darling,’ Delia said, reaching out to stroke Robin’s hair.
He groaned again and Edward said worriedly, ‘I don’t know why there’s a hold-up. Where’s that bloody doctor?’
For the first time in many, many years, Delia felt a common bond with her husband. Just then the curtain was drawn back and a doctor and nurse appeared.
‘Right, young man, nurse here is going to prep you for surgery.’
Delia stood up, asking anxiously, ‘He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’
‘He’ll be in good hands,’ said the doctor calmly.
‘How…how long will he be in theatre?’
‘It depends on what the surgeon finds, on the extent of the damage, but I should think for several hours.’
Delia didn’t find this answer reassuring and swayed. She felt Edward’s arm around her, offering support.
‘Perhaps you should take your wife to the waiting room,’ the doctor suggested.
‘Yes, come on, Delia.’
She was reluctant to leave Robin but, having no choice, she allowed herself to be led away. Her mind twisted and turned as they sat in the stark waiting room. If Jennifer hadn’t left home, her son wouldn’t have gone out with his father to look for her. Jennifer had caused this. Yes, it was that girl’s fault, yet even as she tried to shift the blame, Delia knew she couldn’t. She was the one who had driven Jennifer out – and if the worst happened, if she lost her son, Delia knew she would never forgive herself.
Delia then found herself inwardly bargaining with God. Please, let my son live and I’ll change. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on Jennifer for so long and I realise that now. It was Edward’s fault, not hers. Jenny is the innocent one in all of it and what I deprived her of is unforgivable. When she comes home, though some things can never be put right, I’ll try to make it up to her, really I will.
Delia felt no relief from her anxiety. She was no longer a regular attender at church and hadn’t been for many years. Not only that, she didn’t deserve God’s ear. Nevertheless, Delia continued to pray, repeating the same liturgy again and again until at last, many hours later, the surgeon appeared.
Edward reared to his feet. ‘How is he?’
‘The surgery went well and your son should make a complete recovery.’
‘Can…can we see him?’ Delia asked, she too on her feet now.
‘Just for a few minutes,’ the man said, and a nurse appeared to lead them to the recovery ward.
Robin was groggy from the anaesthetic and hardly knew they were there, but Delia was so relieved that she found herself thanking God for listening to her plea. It was time to keep to her side of the bargain…but could she do it? Could she really bear to have Jennifer home again – to look at her face, one that had always served as a constant reminder? Somehow she had to make the effort.
However, Jennifer was one matter, but Edward was quite another. Until she no longer needed him, her husband’s punishment would continue.
Edward now took the keys from Delia and drove her car home, his wife sitting stiffly beside him. His mind had been hopping between Robin and Jenny, but now, having been told that his son’s prognosis was good, his daughter became his main concern again. Where was she? Did she have somewhere to stay? God, he hoped so; the thought of her roaming the streets and sleeping rough was horrendous. Jenny was just an innocent kid and anything could have happened to her!
Edward scanned the road as he drove along, looking out for the slim, familiar figure of his daughter. Again, his anger mounted towards Delia for having driven Jenny out. The sole consolation was that if he didn’t find her before then, at least he had only to wait until Monday when she started work at the library.
‘We have to find Jennifer,’ said Delia suddenly. ‘Bring her home.’
‘What!’ Edward said, incredulous.
‘I know I treated her badly.’
‘So you’re admitting it at last.’
‘Yes, Edward, I’m being honest at last, which is more than can be said for you.’
‘Not this again? I’m just about sick of it, Delia.’
Delia huffed derisively and fell silent for the rest of the journey home. That suited Edward. He’d been listening to her accusation for years, but would never admit to it. Why should he? He had no need to, he was completely safe, and as far as he was concerned, what his wife had forced him to do was just as unforgivable.
Between searching unsuccessfully for Jenny and visiting his son in hospital, the weekend passed. It was now Monday morning and Edward had rung the office. They had offered him another company vehicle while his car was being repaired, but he’d insisted on a week’s leave, despite the short notice.
‘Right, Delia,’ he now said. ‘I’m off. I want to be at the library before it opens; catch Jenny when she arrives.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘Jennifer won’t come back unless I apologise and assure her that things will be different.’
‘I’ll tell her that.’
‘No, Edward, she won’t believe it unless it comes from me.’
Impatient to leave, Edward nodded in acquiescence, and soon they were in Delia’s car, heading for the library. With his wife driving he used the opportunity to keep his eyes peeled, but so far there was no sign of Jenny. Perhaps his daughter had approached the library from another direction, he thought.
As Delia pulled up outside, Edward felt a surge of relief. This was it, he’d see Jenny again, and between him and Delia, she was sure to agree to come home.
They