An Orphan's Dream Page 26

Feeling a mixture of emotions, Rose started to make a round of her patients, stopping to talk with them all for a few moments, making sure they were feeling as well as they could be. Most were in the recovery stage and the ward was peaceful. She smiled, because these were the good days, when most of the children would be released to their parents very soon. Visiting for the afternoon would begin soon and she could see the children beginning to sit up and look eagerly towards the door.

  Rose smiled. She would be visiting Peter in hospital for the last time that evening and in the morning, she could fetch him home in a taxi. She was looking forward to showing him the room she’d prepared for him and hoped he would be happy. Beattie’s house wasn’t posh but it was comfortable and it had nice big rooms, old-fashioned but with more charm than the modern houses the councils built these days. Rose had always liked living there and she hoped Peter would too.

  ‘There you go, mate,’ the cheery taxi driver said as he assisted Peter into his wheelchair. He looked at Rose. ‘Can you manage, Sister, or shall I come in with you?’

  ‘I think we can manage now,’ Rose said, smiled and thanked him. Peter was able to wheel his chair himself but she positioned herself behind to give him a push if he needed it to get up the ramp to the front door. He managed it without help and wheeled himself into the hall, which was spacious, with a high ceiling. ‘Your room is the door on the right but the kitchen is straight ahead, Peter.’

  ‘I’d like to say hello to Beattie,’ Peter said and propelled his chair to the kitchen door, which stood open in welcome. He negotiated the doorway with ease and continued into the room. It was large and welcoming, with an oak dresser at one end covered in Beattie’s collection of blue and white china and a gleaming black range, above which hung a myriad of pots and pans. There was a smell of baking and herbs, which made him sniff appreciatively. ‘That smells better than disinfectant and carbolic!’ He held out his hand as Beattie looked at him shyly. ‘Thank you for having me in your home, Mrs Robinson, and for letting Rose turn it upside down for my benefit.’

  Beattie smiled at him, her homely face lighting up with pleasure and warmth. ‘You’re very welcome, Dr Clark – and please, call me Beattie, everyone does.’

  ‘I’m Peter,’ he said and took her hands in his own, his clasp strong. ‘I am truly grateful and I shall try not to abuse your kindness.’

  ‘Oh, you couldn’t,’ she said. ‘I know you must be anxious and angry too – but I don’t mind. What you did was a brave thing and I honour you for it.’

  ‘Most folk think it damned foolish,’ Peter said but smiled. He looked at Rose. ‘I will go to my room now, if that’s all right – I feel a bit tired. Stupid I know, I haven’t done anything, but I am tired.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll show you,’ Rose said. She led the way back down the hall. There were three doors, one into what had been Beattie’s lovely front parlour, one into a small cloakroom with toilet and the last to a dining room Beattie never used. Most of her parlour furniture was now stored in the dining room, but she’d left a comfortable chair, a bedside chest, a chest of drawers and a small table that Peter could use as a desk, as well as the special bed that Rose had bought. It was the type used in hospital and could be wound up to help the patient sit against his pillows. Fixed to the metal headrest was a pulley similar to the one he’d used at the hospital. ‘I think you’ll be able to manage here, but of course one of us will always be around to help with anything you need.’

  ‘You really have thought of everything,’ Peter said, looking about him. ‘This is a lovely house, Rose. It reminds me of my grandparents’ home – theirs was a bit larger but much the same. I shall be comfortable here.’

  ‘I have always thought it lovely,’ Rose replied. ‘I’m so glad you think you will enjoy living here, Peter.’

  ‘I would enjoy living anywhere with you,’ he said, and the look he gave her made her blush with pleasure. ‘The trouble with that bed is it is only big enough for one.’

  Rose laughed. ‘You haven’t asked me to marry you yet – and I don’t get into bed with just anyone.’

  ‘I know …’ Peter smiled up at her. He reached out and caught her hand. ‘You know I want to marry you, Rose. But I’m not going to unless I can be a proper husband to you – and I’m not sure of that yet. When I can stagger down the aisle and make love to my wife then I’ll ask.’

  Rose bent to kiss him softly on the mouth. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to say anything else,’ she told him. ‘But one thing you should know is that I love you; I think I began to love you a long time ago but I couldn’t trust you …’

  ‘You’d been hurt and I made it worse by asking someone else out. I’ve no idea why I did it, Rose, except that you wouldn’t smile at me and she did. But I regretted it immediately. Each time I took her out I wished it was you and, in the end, I had to tell her that it was over.’

  ‘Poor Jenny,’ Rose said and shook her head. ‘We neither of us must make silly mistakes like that again, Peter. Life is too short – you could have died that day. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives but for now I am content to have you here and to help you where I can.’

  ‘I don’t need much nursing now,’ Peter said with a wry smile. ‘I might need help now and then but otherwise I’m fine.’ He caught her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’d love a cup of tea – and a bit of that cake I saw on the table. And, if I gave you the key, could you fetch some things from the hotel and cancel my room there, please? I have a car parked in their yard too, so maybe someone could fetch it for me?’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask before? You could have stored everything here.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure …’ Peter looked at her. ‘I know what you’re taking on, Rose, and I want to be honest with you. I have money and I could buy a house similar to this and employ a housekeeper and a nurse, so if you ever wish for your freedom—’

  ‘No, never,’ she said firmly. ‘Even if you won’t marry me, I’d like to be your companion and care for you, but Beattie might marry and, if she does, we might need some help.’

  ‘Does she want to bring her husband to live here?’

  ‘No, she says I could rent this house from her. He has a more modern home and she likes that best.’

  Peter nodded and smiled. ‘One step at a time, Rose. I’m going to get myself into bed and then I’d love that cup of tea.’

  CHAPTER 42

  Jim Bryant scowled as the prison officer handed him his small bundle. He was told to check his valuables but he’d only had a few shillings in his pocket when he was admitted and the only things he had besides what he stood up in were the money for a train fare and his release papers, also a small penknife that had belonged to Danny.

  He hawked and spat as the gate was unlocked and he was let out of prison. He’d been given two weeks’ early release for good behaviour – more fool them. The only reason he hadn’t got into a fight was because the other men stayed clear of him when he was muttering to himself and a fierce glare would send any that tried to speak to him walking off.

  That bloody kid was going to pay for the past few weeks when he’d been humiliated and made to work for nothing. Prison wasn’t just sitting in a cell doing nothing. He’d been made to break concrete for rubble that was used in some sort of construction and the warders hadn’t given them much rest; the food was all right, because Jim wasn’t used to better, but he hadn’t had a drink and it had almost sent him crazy for the first couple of weeks. He was stone-cold sober now and burning with anger inside.

  Locked up just for taking his own son away from that bloody woman! He was entitled to do what he liked with the little bastard and he would make him pay when he got him back. Someone had shopped him to the cops and he thought it might be the man he’d worked for – or one of the buggers who worked with him. If he knew who it was, he’d break their neck but he didn’t know and he wasn’t going back to that filthy job for pennies. He was going to get what he deserved out of life!

  Jim had made up his mi
nd he’d had enough of standing in line for miserable jobs that broke his back and paid hardly enough for the whisky he craved. He was going to steal what he wanted from the homes of those that had plenty, like that damned judge who’d sent him to prison.

  A little smile touched Jim’s face, because he happened to know where the judge lived. He’d seen a picture of the house in Hampstead in an old magazine in the prison library. Jim hadn’t wanted anything from the trolley but the trustee had thrust the magazine at him and he’d come across the picture of the judge standing outside his posh house. That had made him smile. It was his chance to get even! He would break in that bugger’s house and steal his things and then he’d live the life of a king. But to break in he’d need the help of his son. The boy could get through small windows and it was usually the little windows that people thought were safe; they didn’t have locks or bars on like some of the others and were quite often left open a crack because the owners thought no one could get in – but a thin lad like Danny might; if not, he’d be of use as a look-out. Besides, he had it coming.

  The vengeful thoughts kept Jim company as he trudged to the railway station. The prison had given him his fare back to London, telling him to go home and find work. He’d felt like spitting in their faces and telling them he didn’t have a home to go to, even though he’d given his old address in court. But Jim knew the landlord had taken it over and put new locks on the doors. He had nowhere to go and only a few shillings between him and starvation. It wasn’t enough to buy the whisky he craved.

  Jim hunched up in a corner of the first carriage he came to. Several passengers walked by after taking one look at him and he muttered a curse. Who the hell did they think they were? Was he contaminating the air or something?

  Then the door opened and three passengers entered – a youngish woman with a small boy and an elderly woman with white hair and kind eyes. The woman and child sat as far away as they could but the little old lady sat down near him.

  She smiled vaguely at him. ‘You don’t mind if I sit here? The train is so full and there aren’t many seats – we were lucky to find these.’

  Jim grunted and turned his head away to look out of the window as the train pulled away from the station. He resented them entering the carriage but couldn’t stop it.

  ‘Well, I’m going to visit my daughter and grandchildren in London,’ the elderly lady said to no one in particular. ‘I come up every few weeks as my treat and they make a big fuss of me you know, but they’re too busy to come down often so I come up.’

  ‘That’s nice for you,’ the lady opposite said and reached forward to shake hands. ‘Will and I are going to visit my auntie – she loves to see him and we visit several times a year, don’t we, love?’

  ‘Yes …’ the boy was looking at Jim in the corner. He pulled a face as he saw Jim look at him and then stuck his tongue out. Jim glared at him. For two pins he would’ve given the lad a good hiding but the women would start screeching and all he wanted was to reach London without more trouble. He wanted to teach his bastard son a lesson.

  After an hour or so the elderly lady took out a packet of sandwiches. The smell made Jim’s nose twitch. He hadn’t smelled anything that good in an age. His eyes slid towards the food as he saw her select a sandwich and begin to eat it. Wild thoughts of snatching them and running flitted through his head, but then, as though she read his thoughts, she took another and offered the packet to Jim.

  ‘Please have these if you’re hungry,’ she said and he grabbed them. There were two left, ham and mustard by the smell and he devoured them both within minutes. ‘You were hungry,’ she murmured. ‘I always pack more than I need.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jim grunted. He eyed the basket. It was filled with bits and pieces but she didn’t offer him anything else.

  He wondered whether he could scrape enough money together for a bottle of whisky when the train stopped. He’d ached for it the first few weeks of his withdrawal but now he just wanted it to put him on an even keel again.

  The train announcer’s voice said they would be arriving at London in five minutes and the elderly lady began to hunt through her basket. She took out a black leather purse and checked her ticket. Jim saw some pound notes and coins in the purse and his fingers itched to snatch it off her but the little boy was watching him like a hawk and he daren’t try.

  His best chance was to wait until they got off the train. As it began to slow, the elderly lady got to her feet and went into the corridor. Jim followed and stood behind, waiting his moment as the train scrunched to a halt. The door was opened and people started to get off; he followed close behind and then, just as the elderly lady got down, snatched at her basket. Surprising him, she fought back and Jim gave her a hard shove to the ground and took off, running through the crowd disgorging from the train. Behind him, he could hear shouting and a whistle.

  He showed his ticket to the collector and was allowed through the barrier, though the next moment someone shouted and he heard someone start running after him. Going out into a rainswept street, Jim saw a bus halted at a nearby stop, ran to it and jumped on even as it drew away.

  ‘That was a silly thing to do,’ the conductor said but Jim just glared at him. He paid his fare and the man went away. Jim stayed on a few stops and then got off. He felt safe now and found a bench to sit on, out of the rain, delving in the straw basket to find what it contained. There was a tin containing a homemade cake, a silk scarf wrapped in paper and a pair of leather gloves, an ivory hair comb and a photograph of an old man and the woman, also the purse.

  Extracting the money from the purse and the cake tin, Jim discarded the basket on the bench and walked off. The money would keep him in whisky for a couple of days and then he would go in search of that little bastard.

  ‘So, how have you enjoyed working with wood every day?’ Ted asked Danny as they stopped to buy fish and chips for their tea. Ron had gone running off with their order, but Ted told Danny to wait. It was the end of August now and Danny had worked with him and Ron for the last few weeks, during the holidays, but it was back to school on Monday. He’d worked well, running to fetch whatever was needed. Ron was growing in experience now and Ted could trust him to select the right wood for whatever he needed and lay it out ready for Ted to cut and assemble. Danny had taken over the fetch and carry jobs Ron had been doing until now. ‘Do you think you might like working with us when you leave school next summer?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s all right,’ Danny said and smiled at him. ‘The gaffer is nice – he likes you, Ted. I think he couldn’t manage this business without you.’

  ‘He managed before I came,’ Ted said. ‘I do more than most of the others – but I’ve Ron to help me and you on Saturdays and holidays.’ He looked at Danny seriously. ‘I do want you to be happy, son. Ron loves the work so I know he’s happy, but you like your cooking.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Danny agreed. ‘I love cooking with Beattie, but I can do that at nights and weekends, especially if she moves in with us.’

  ‘So, you don’t resent me for setting you to this work, lad?’

  ‘No, I like being with you and Ron,’ Danny said. ‘I’ve done a lot worse, Uncle Ted, and if I want to train as a chef when I’m older I can.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’ Ted smiled because Danny was such an easy boy to love. ‘And I’d never stand in your way then, but for now this means I can protect you all the time. Your father will be out soon and he may come after you.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but Constable Jones showed me and Ron a bit of judo at the club so he won’t find it as easy as before to grab me.’

  ‘Well, that can’t hurt,’ Ted said smiling at him. ‘But if I’m around I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt either of you.’ He ruffled Danny’s hair. ‘You know I’m fond of you – of both of you.’

  Ron came back with their supper and Danny budged over to let him sit beside him in the front of the truck. ‘Did you get some crispies?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ron grinned. ‘He gave
me a bag fer free ’cos he likes me.’

  ‘That’s why we send you for the chips,’ Ted said and chuckled. They didn’t need to economise now all three of them were being paid something, but Ron couldn’t resist asking and the fish and chip owner was a friendly man, who often gave what some others would charge for. Crispies were just little bits off the batter but children loved them and Ted didn’t mind a few either.

  ‘Are we goin’ ter Beattie’s fer tea tomorrow?’ Ron asked as Ted drove them home in his employer’s battered old truck. It rattled a bit but it got them around and the lads thought it was great.

  Sometimes Beattie came to them and cooked, sometimes they went to hers. The previous week her new lodger had been settling in so they hadn’t gone but this week she’d told them to come and meet him.

  ‘She said it was all right for us to come,’ Ted told the boys and smiled contentedly. He was happy with his relationship with Beattie, who was a warm, loving woman, who had been wasted for years and needed a husband as much as he needed a wife. He would be glad when they could marry but knew she wouldn’t let her friend Rose down. ‘She thinks it will be good for Dr Clark to have visitors – so what shall we take him?’

  ‘Would he like some of our football magazines?’ Ron asked. ‘Or a packet of five Woodbines?’

  ‘I’m not sure he smokes,’ Ted said. ‘We might buy him a quarter of that burnt toffee we all like – and get a quarter for ourselves too.’

  ‘Yeah!’ the boys chorused together and grinned at each other.

  Ted wasn’t exactly like a father to them, more like a favourite uncle or a big brother who gave them treats and looked after them, but he was also their employer who taught them a trade and while both respected and liked him, they adored Beattie and loved it when she came to their house or had them to hers.

  ‘What about Mum?’ Danny said. ‘What shall we take her?’

  ‘We have some of those little daisy things in the garden,’ Ted said. ‘She likes a little box of Dairy Milk chocolates too.’