A Mother’s Sacrifice. Kitty Neale
in the next bed returned with the same hospital porter wheeling her chair. As two nurses helped the woman back into bed, Glenda winced as she turned on her side again, not wanting to engage in conversation with anyone. Thankfully, whoever was in the bed to this side of her had their curtain pulled round, so at least Glenda felt she had a little privacy to cry in peace.
‘Excuse me, Miss.’
Glenda turned to see who was addressing her now, assuming it must be a doctor, but was surprised to see the porter hovering close to her bedside.
‘I just wondered if you’d like me to find a vase and some water for your flowers,’ he said, indicating the chrysanthemums on her bedside cupboard.
‘Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you,’ answered Glenda, but in reality she didn’t care if the flowers wilted and died.
‘Back in a jiffy then,’ said the man with a smile.
A few minutes later, true to his word, the porter was back at her bedside and was placing her flowers in the vase he had found.
‘There you go, pretty as a picture.’ He smiled at Glenda again.
She immediately noticed his piercing blue eyes that were emphasised by jet-black hair which he wore greased back.
‘The flowers, I meant, not you … pretty as a picture. Oh, no, I mean … you are pretty as a picture, but I didn’t mean that when I said pretty as a picture … but you are. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being forward. I didn’t mean …’
Glenda hid a smile. He was so nervous, but he was kind too, so she assured him, ‘It’s all right. I know what you meant, and thanks.’
‘Sorry, I’ll start again. Your flowers look as pretty as a picture. Did your husband bring them in for you?’
Glenda’s momentary light mood rapidly darkened again at the thought of Harry. ‘Yes, he did,’ she answered, avoiding the porter’s kind blue eyes.
‘I thought he had. My name’s Frank, by the way. I work here, across this and three other wards on this floor. Amongst other things I take patients to departments for X-rays and tests. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you looked a bit upset earlier when your husband was here.’
Glenda would have loved to tell Frank that her husband was a selfish, violent man and it was because of him that she was in this hospital bed, but with Harry’s threat still ringing clearly in her ears she thought better of it. ‘I’m just missing my little boy, that’s all,’ she lied instead.
‘Only, from where I was standing, I was pretty sure he was warning you off about something.’
‘No, not at all. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, Frank, but it’s really none of your business,’ Glenda answered, surprised that Frank had heard the conversation with Harry.
‘Yeah, you’re right. Sorry for sticking my nose in. I just don’t like to see women getting knocked about. I saw my dad lay into my mum enough times when I was a kid and wished I had been older and big enough to stand up for her. But I wasn’t. Thank God the old git is dead now, killed when a bomb landed on our house, but all the same I wouldn’t want to see a bully like Harry Jenkins hitting a defenceless woman like yourself.’
‘So you know my Harry, do you?’ Glenda asked in surprise.
‘Not as such, but I know of him. He was a few years above me in school, but even back then he was known for being a bit handy with his fists. I’ve got a list of all the patients on the ward and when I saw you was a Glenda Jenkins, I put two and two together.’
Glenda had always known that Harry had a reputation for being tough, but when she met him she hadn’t known he was a bully. She used to like the way he would warn off other men that looked at her; it made her feel special. Unfortunately, she knew differently now.
‘Frank,’ she said, ‘you seem like a nice man and thanks for your concern, but honestly you’d be well advised to keep out of Harry’s business, especially where I’m involved.’
‘You don’t have to suffer in silence, Glenda. I’m just saying, if he’s done this to you and threatened you to keep your mouth shut, you don’t have to. I know what blokes like him are like and if you wanna talk, I’m happy to listen.’
But before Glenda could answer, a rotund woman called out to Frank, ‘Mr Myers, if you have quite finished with Mrs Jenkins, please make your way to ward seven.’
‘Gotta dash.’ Frank winked. ‘Sister will have my guts for garters if I stand around here chatting much longer. See you later.’ And with that he was gone.
Glenda lay gobsmacked. Sister had called him Mr Myers, but surely he couldn’t be related to Billy Myers? She didn’t know anything about Billy’s family, and he had only ever mentioned his mother, but both he and Frank had black hair so maybe they were related in some way. Glenda closed her eyes, thinking that if Frank had anything at all to do with Billy, it was all the more reason why he should stay well clear of her.
The next morning, Glenda awoke early as nurses hustled back and forth medicating patients, and tea trolleys clattered up the stark ward. She longed to get home and see Johnnie, especially as Harry had said that Maude didn’t think the baby should be brought to the hospital. She could understand why, and, not only that, but the state of her face would probably frighten the life out of him. Nonetheless, she missed her baby desperately and was eager to get out of there.
Visiting time seemed hours away, which was a relief to Glenda. She was worried that Maude might find someone to keep an eye on Johnnie and come visit her alone, and she wasn’t up to facing the woman. It would mean yet another lecture about how wonderful her son was and how she should be grateful that he’d picked her to marry. And though she appreciated the fact that Maude was looking after Johnnie, she worried about the sort of food he would be given. Despite the shortages, Maude was fond of feeding him bread and butter dipped in sugar, insisting it was good for him, but Glenda feared that all that sugar would rot his new teeth that were just breaking through his gums. And the whisky, well, surely that wasn’t healthy!
Frank’s cheery voice suddenly snapped her out of her worrying thoughts. ‘Good morning, Mrs Jenkins! I must say, you’re looking a lot perkier today.’
‘Hello, Frank. Thanks, yes, I’m feeling much better than I did yesterday. Obviously the bed rest and hospital food agree with me.’
‘Glad to hear it, as I have a little treat for some of you lovely ladies today,’ said Frank, smiling at several of the women in the surrounding beds.
‘And what’s that then, Frank?’ a middle-aged woman called from across the ward.
‘Well,’ Frank answered, looking rather pleased with himself, ‘Sister has agreed that as the weather has changed, an Indian summer making it warm for October, those that are feeling up to it can come on my voyage surprise. How about that then, ladies!’
‘What the blinking ’eck is a voyage surprise?’ asked the same woman.
‘It’s a film, a French one which I have on good authority was very funny when it was shown in Paris. Now in the meantime, my voyage surprise means I get to wheel you lovelies outside to the gardens for an hour. And look, I’ve got some old crusts for the birds.’
Glenda watched, amused, as a quiet cheer went around the small ward. Frank was certainly popular with the patients and had an ease about him that made you feel instantly comfortable.
‘And what about you, Mrs Jenkins? Will you be joining us today?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know, Frank. I don’t think that will be such a good idea. What with Harry, you know,’ Glenda whispered.
Frank stepped closer to her bed. ‘Don’t you worry about him,’ he said with a grin. ‘What he don’t know won’t hurt. Anyhow, it’s Sister’s orders so let Harry have it out with her if he dares!’
For the first time