A Christmas Promise. Annie GrovesЧитать онлайн книгу.
them to those who deserved them, and who had pooled their potato peelings to boil up for chicken food and returned the shells to mix in with the mash and corn, which Nancy had been doing only recently – and now she knew why.
‘We can pass the eggs in to Nancy on the way to the shop,’ Olive said, checking her hat and giving a satisfied nod to her reflection they made their way to the front door.
Olive was just locking the front door when she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of the young telegraph boy, not much older and considerably shorter than Barney, heading down the Row of three-story houses on one side and the backs of ivy-clad business premises on the other. She watched his approach with a hint of dread, secretly praying he didn’t stop at her front gate.
In a flash, it seemed, Nancy’s door opened again and she was out by her own gate in no time at all. The two women looked fleetingly at each other as the telegraph boy approached the pavement outside their houses, and clenching his brakes before expertly swinging his leg over the crossbar of his bike.
Olive watched him skilfully balance the pedal of the bike on the pavement and she felt her heart thrumming in her throat as the cold hand of fear clutched at her heart, while every nerve in her body was screaming, Please, Lord, don’t let it be Tilly … Please don’t let anything bad have happened to my precious daughter.
‘Mrs Robbins?’ The telegraph boy asked as fear screamed through her. Olive could only nod as words failed her. Then he handed her the dreaded telegram, every mother’s nightmare.
*
When Sally took her morning break she knew there was something she had to do before she even went for the cup of tea she was dying to drink. She looked at the clock: it was almost ten forty and if she was lucky she might just catch Drew before he was discharged.
He hadn’t been given a bed on Men’s Surgical as his father had an arrangement with the powers that be to keep him in a private room where he could recuperate in peace, be waited on hand and foot, and have visitors at any time of the day.
‘Steady on your pins?’ Sally asked as she popped her head round the door and was glad to see Drew smiling. ‘All set to go?’
‘I didn’t think I’d be this nervous,’ he laughed. ‘Dad’s ordered a car, would you believe?’ Drew was dressed in a smart new suit, the likes of which could not be bought here in London for love nor money – and even if it was possible to find one to buy, Sally was certain nobody had enough coupons to splash out on just one suit. Drew stood tall. He had been practising with the doctors for weeks now, and was determined he would walk out under his own steam with the aid of one walking stick, which had been sent over from America by his father specially for this day and which Drew vowed would be a temporary attachment.
‘What do you think?’ he said proudly, standing to attention at the side of his bed, which he had made himself even though the whole lot would be scrubbed and cleaned as soon as he vacated the room, as it was after every patient.
‘Oh, very smart, I must say,’ Sally beamed, taking in the plain, good quality navy-blue material of his suit, the broad-shouldered, loose-fitting jacket worn over a pristine white shirt, which, she assumed, would be handmade.
Drew’s father had all his clothes, even pyjamas, sent over from their tailor in America, and as Sally took in the plain but most certainly expensive gold cufflinks and blue silk tie, she said, ‘We’ll be sorry to see you go.’ Then she added, ‘I haven’t said anything … at home.’
Drew nodded; he knew exactly what she meant and he was glad that she was so discreet. It would be so much easier. The room grew silent and Drew shifted a little, looking uncomfortable, Sally thought, and why wouldn’t he? He had been stuck in this place for months.
‘I’ve been working so hard for this day,’ he said, breaking the oppressive silence, vaguely patting his pocket to check for something that Sally could not distinguish. Then, as if satisfied, he beamed one of those handsome smiles that had all the young nurses agog.
‘Do I look all right, Sal?’ He seemed nervous all of a sudden.
‘You look great,’ Sally said, proud of the fact that he had endured the gruelling months of recovery with such fortitude. Such suffering as he had been through would have finished off a weaker man.
‘Do I look good enough to go to a wedding?’ It was apparent he was eager for her response.
‘Well, you’d have to put some shoes and socks on, of course.’ Sally laughed, looking down at his bare feet. ‘But you look good enough to go to the Palace, never mind a wedding – why, who’s getting married?’
‘I am,’ said Drew. and suddenly alarm bells rang in Sally’s head.
*
‘Will there be a reply?’ the telegraph boy asked, and Olive shook her head. She didn’t have a clue what the telegram would say and she didn’t want to either. The young lad from the Post Office went back to his bicycle.
Olive felt her throat constrict as Barney stood beside her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. For once, Nancy was silent, her gaping mouth covered by the four fingers of her right hand. Olive regarded the official-looking cable in her hand. Every instinct told her to rip it open, find out what it said. But she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking too much.
‘Shall I open it for you, Aunty Olive?’ Barney said in that gentle, mature tone she had heard Archie use so often. Silently, too shaken to speak, she handed him the envelope. If anything had happened to her precious darling Tilly she didn’t know what she would do. How could she go on if her only daughter – her only child – had been injured, or … worse.
She watched Barney slip his forefinger under the flap of the envelope as if she was watching a scene from the pictures. This was happening to someone else, not to her! His long, sensitive fingers, which handled the chickens so expertly, so tenderly, were taking out the piece of paper from within the envelope … and he silently read the words.
He was quiet for a moment before he raised tearful eyes and said to Olive in a low voice, ‘It’s Tilly.’
Olive took in an anguished, painful gasp of air. All she wanted to do was run. She didn’t know where she wanted to run to, but she knew she didn’t want to hear it if Barney had bad news for her. He put his hand on her arm as if to steady her and Olive knew she had to hear what the telegram said one way or the other.
She couldn’t move as the painful cry caught in her throat and she found it hard to swallow … Then she saw Barney’s expression change … and he was smiling.
‘Oh, no, Aunty Olive – she’s not …’ His words were jumbled as he excitedly tried to explain. ‘She’s coming home! Tilly’s coming home – today!’
Olive felt her legs buckle and, if Barney hadn’t been there to hold her up, she was sure she would have sunk to the ground with relief. Tears of joy coursed down her cheeks as she took the telegram and tried to make sense of the words.
‘Oh, thank you, God! Thank you! My darling girl is coming home for her birthday!’ Olive cried, hugging Barney, while Nancy, unbeknown to her, let out a long stream of pent-up breath.
‘Well, Olive, I never thought I’d see the day when you cried in the street,’ Nancy said, quickly regaining her equilibrium.
‘Nor me, Nancy.’ Olive was laughing now. She hadn’t heard from Tilly for so long that this telegram had suddenly become a godsend. Tilly couldn’t wait to see everybody again, it seemed such a long time since she was last home. As the train swayed from side to side the rhythm of the engine lulled her. Tomorrow was her twenty-first birthday – the day when she and Drew had planned to marry and live together as man and wife for the rest of their days. But it wasn’t to be. Drew had gone back to America last year and she had never heard from him since.
Automatically her fingers sought the Harvard ring he had once placed on the third finger of her left hand. He had promised that he would never ask for it as long as he still loved her,