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At one o’clock they ate their lunch: egg sandwiches, bloater paste sandwiches and cheese sandwiches; but no matter how hard they tried, they all ended up with a little sand on them. Mary handed round some of her fruitcake and Dottie offered them some Victoria sponge. Then they made the kids lay down for a rest. The little ones were shaded by the deckchairs or a blanket suspended between the chairs as they lay underneath.
‘I reckon you should have gone in for the Miss Littlehampton, Dottie,’ said Tom holding out his newspaper. ‘You’re better-looking than that June Hadden any day.’
‘Oh, Tom,’ laughed Dottie. ‘I’m a married woman!’
‘So is she,’ said Mary. ‘She’s a mother of two.’
‘Have a go at the Miss Sussex competition.’ Tom encouraged. ‘That feller from Variety Bandbox is going to crown the winner. Derek Roy.’
‘I don’t think Reg …’ Dottie began.
‘Reg won’t mind, will you, Reg?’
Reg had been lying back in the deckchair with his eyes closed. He opened them to find everyone staring at him, willing him to agree.
‘What, and make a fool of herself?’
‘Your Dottie is a real smasher, Reg,’ Tom protested.
‘Come on, Reg,’ said Mary. ‘Be a sport.’
Reg’s eyes narrowed and Dottie laid her hand on Mary’s arm.
‘Who’s for ice cream?’ said Jack and a chorus of little voices, all wide-awake now, cried out, ‘Me, me!’
‘Good timing, Jack,’ grinned Peaches.
After their ice creams, Gary, Connie and Christopher slept for upwards of an hour while Susan and Maureen managed half an hour. Billy was allowed to go to play by the water’s edge as soon as the others were asleep. Dottie walked with him, not only to keep an eye on him, but also to have a bit of a paddle herself.
She and Billy had a special relationship. He was only little when his dad died but until Tom Prior came along, he’d so desperately tried to do what everyone told him and be the man of the house. He was fiercely protective of his mum. Dottie had never ever told Mary how he’d cried the day of their wedding. His mother and Tom were off on honeymoon – an afternoon at the pictures in Brighton – and Dottie was looking after Billy, Maureen and Susan in their new home. The babies were sleeping and she’d thought Billy was quite happy playing with his toy farmyard but all at once he’d burst into tears. At first she’d thought it was because he was jealous of Tom: after all, he’d had his mother to himself for most of his life. Up until the time Billy’s father was killed, the war had meant that, apart from a couple of periods of leave, Billy had hardly ever seen him. But as she comforted him, Dottie realised the child had taken his ‘job’ as ‘man of the house’ so seriously, that the tears were tears of relief. Now at last Tom could have the responsibility of looking after his mother.
As she and Billy paddled in the water, Reg, his trouser legs rolled up to his calves, came to join them.
Earlier that morning, Dottie had been thinking about that letter from Australia again. She kept forgetting to say something about it and, although he’d obviously taken it and read it, Reg still hadn’t said anything about it. It was probably of no con sequence. A letter from the wife of an old army pal or something … but it was funny that he hadn’t mentioned it again.
She was about to ask him about it, when he said, ‘You’d make somebody a good little mother.’ His remark caught Dottie by surprise. She stared at him, unsure what to say. How odd. Was he feeling the urge again? Oh dear. Could he hang onto it until they were home, or was he going to suggest they go somewhere?
As they all paddled together, Dottie felt she couldn’t be happier. The sun, the sea, the lovely weather, their friends on the beach and Reg … She wanted to tell him so, but she couldn’t embarrass him in front of Billy.
Picking up her skirts, Dottie ran further into the water. Billy followed and the two of them splashed about a bit.
‘Fancy a quick look around Woolworths?’ Mary suggested when Dottie and Billy came back. Reg was already back in his deckchair.
‘Ye-ah,’ said Billy.
‘What about the kids?’ asked Dottie.
‘I’ll stay and keep an eye on them,’ said Peaches.
‘The men can look after them for five minutes, can’t they?’ said Mary.
‘Reg?’ Dottie asked.
‘I’m reading the paper.’
‘Can I come?’ said Billy.
Tom and Jack waved them away. ‘Go on, get on with you and enjoy yourselves.’
‘And me?’ Billy tried again.
‘You heard your mother,’ said Tom. ‘Us men’ll have to look after the kids. About time you took our Christopher over to the toilets, isn’t it?’
‘Aw, Dad!’
The three friends set off for the town. As they walked along the promenade, Peaches fluffed out her blonde hair with her fingers. Dottie linked her arms through theirs and they began an impromptu dance until Mary slipped and trod on some man’s toe.
‘Oi!’ he shouted.
‘Sorry,’ Mary called as they all dissolved into laughter.
‘He’ll have a flat foot now,’ said Peaches. ‘Step – flip, step – flop …’
It was all very silly but Dottie laughed until she held her sides. ‘I haven’t had a laugh like this for ages.’
They stopped off to look at the exhibits in the big marquee on the green.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Mary, holding a prize-winning jar of lemon curd up to the light, ‘your preserves are every bit as good as these, Dottie.’
Dottie blushed happily.
‘And I tell you what,’ said Peaches. ‘I’m busting for the toilet again. Let’s head towards the town.’
The friends linked arms once more and set off to find the public conveniences. Outside again Peaches said, ‘I’ll be glad when this one comes and I can have some fun again. Fancy coming to Brighton with me once I get my figure back? I can’t wait to get some new things.’
‘Let me make you something,’ said Dottie.
‘Be nice if we could all go shopping though, wouldn’t it?’ Peaches remarked.
‘Count me in,’ said Mary.
‘You’re on,’ said Dottie with a smile.
‘How come you haven’t got any kids, Dottie?’ asked Mary. ‘Doesn’t Reg want any?’
Dottie felt her face colour. ‘It just never happened,’ she faltered.
‘Oh darlin’, I’m sorry,’ said Mary. ‘Me and my big mouth.’
‘It’s all right,’ Dottie quickly reassured her.
‘My cousin Nelly was like that,’ said Peaches. ‘In the end she went to the doctor and he said she and her husband wasn’t doing it right.’
‘What the ’ell were they doing then?’ said Mary, agog.
‘Just touching navels.’
There was a moment of silence then Mary said, ‘Was that all?’
They all burst out laughing.
‘Perhaps your Reg needs some coaching,’ said Mary, giving Dottie a hefty nudge.
‘You volunteering?’ grinned Dottie and they all laughed a third time.
‘What about cousin Nelly?’ Mary asked.
‘Whatever the doc said to them worked,’ said Peaches. ‘They’ve got three kids now.’
‘All the spitting image of the doctor,’ roared Mary. Peaches enjoyed the joke, laughing heartily. Thank goodness they didn’t know about Doctor Fitzgerald, thought Dottie as she joined in. Thankfully the subject of babies, and the lack of them, didn’t come up again.
‘Here we are,’ said Mary as they found the shops.
They wandered around Woolworths and Peaches bought herself a bottle of Lily of the Valley. Mary got each of her brood and Gary a 3D stick of rock with ‘Littlehampton’ printed through it to take home. ‘Clever how they do that,’ she remarked.
Dottie bought a new comb for Reg.
Reg flipped through the pages of the Littlehampton Gazette. Nothing much there. He was just about to fold it up when Connie tottered towards him, a long candlestick of mucus and sand hanging from the end of her nose.
Alarmed, he cried, ‘Tom!’
‘Cor, love a duck,’ said Tom as he saw her.
Lifting her half-filled bucket towards her father, she said, ‘Eat tend cakey, Daddy.’
‘Hang on a minute, sweetheart, let Daddy clean you up first.’ With the practised hand of an expert, her father put one hand on the top of her blonde head to hold her steady while he fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief. Connie sneezed and the candlestick grew longer.
Jack, who was cuddling Gary on his lap, laughed aloud. Reg shuddered with disgust.
‘Tend cakey, Daddy?’ Connie said as her face emerged from under the voluminous handkerchief.
‘I’d love to,’ said Tom, pretending to take a piece. ‘Ummm, delicious. Don’t forget your Uncle Jack and Uncle Reg.’
‘Yum, yum,’ said Jack obligingly.
Connie turned towards Reg. ‘Not for me,’ he said quickly.
Tom ruffled the child’s hair. ‘Uncle Reg is full up,’ he said. ‘But I could eat you up!’ He growled and, snatching her in his arms, he kissed her neck. Connie giggled happily and when he put her down again she wandered back to the area of sand which served as her kitchen.
‘Not up to sand pie, Reg?’ Tom said good-naturedly.
‘Looking after kids is woman’s work,’ Reg muttered.
‘Rubbish,’ said Tom. ‘I love being with all my kids. I’m a dab hand at changing a nappy too.’
Reg shook his paper disapprovingly and hid behind it again. Thank God Patsy was well past that stage. His lip curled at the thought of changing nappies, and as for dealing with snotty noses … You’d better keep well away from me, thought Reg sourly. But a couple of minutes later, the little brat was on her way back. Reg glanced around helplessly. The other two men were gone: Tom was doing something with Christopher and Jack was walking Gary towards the sea where the other kids were splashing about at the water’s edge.
‘Clear off,’ Reg hissed.
But Connie was on a mission. Holding out her bucket of sand, she struggled to steady herself, tottered and made a grab at his trousers. She stumbled against him and fell. At the same time, Reg noticed a wasp crawling along the sand nearby. As Connie pulled herself to her feet again, Reg glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him, and then gave Connie a good shove with his leg. She sat down heavily on top of the wasp. A few seconds later, her heart-rending screams brought the others running.
By the time the girls got back, the kids were sitting further down the beach, watching a Punch and Judy show. Billy had his arm around Connie who was sporting a large white bandage on her leg. Mary listened in horror as Tom explained about the wasp.
‘Good job the St John Ambulance people were so close,’ he said, pointing to the first aid post a little way along the beach.
‘Poor little mite,’ said Dottie. ‘Couldn’t you have stopped her?’
‘She fell,’ said Reg, re-arranging the knots in the handkerchief on the top of his head. ‘Couldn’t do a thing about it, love.’
The Punch and Judy show over, Gary was looking very listless again.
‘I think you’d better take him to see Dr Fitzgerald tomorrow, hen,’ Mary told Peaches.
Peaches nodded miserably.
‘Get Dottie to run over and fetch him when we get back,’ Reg suggested.
Dottie turned her head away. Oh God, she couldn’t possibly face Dr Fitzgerald again. Not after last Saturday night. Whatever was she going to do?
‘You’ll go and get the doc for Peaches, won’t you love?’ Reg insisted.
She turned her head and everyone was looking at her. ‘Yes, yes, of course I will.’
They arrived back in the village at six thirty. Jack dropped Reg off at the Jolly Farmer and then went on to Mary’s place. It took a while to get all her sleepy kids off the back of the lorry, but they all called out their goodbyes.
‘It’s been a wonderful day, hen,’ Mary told Peaches. ‘Now don’t you worry about your Gary. He’ll be all right.’
Jack took Dottie, Peaches and Gary home. The little boy kept whimpering as if he was in pain and Jack had to carry him indoors. As soon as they were safely inside, Dottie and Jack drove to the doctor’s.
‘You’ll wait for me?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he smiled.
Dottie was relieved. She’d been frantic with worry. She didn’t really want to face the doctor again. Not so soon. But she couldn’t refuse a friend, could she? Not when her child was so sick.
She drew some comfort from hearing the engine still running as she walked up the garden path to the big house. Dottie rang the doorbell and waved to Jack. All at once, he drove off. She almost panicked and ran after him, crying, ‘Come back …’ but then she realised he was only turning the lorry around. She turned to face the door. The glass panel grew dark and she knew someone was coming.
It was Mrs Fitzgerald. ‘Dottie!’
‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Fitzgerald,’ Dottie began, ‘but is the doctor here?’
‘He’s not on call today,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said crisply. ‘You’ll have to go to Dr Bailey over at Heene Road.’
‘Who is it?’ said a voice behind Mrs Fitzgerald.
‘It’s Dottie.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Dottie quickly. She could hear Jack’s lorry drawing up outside the gate again. ‘We’ll go to Dr Bailey.’
Dr Fitzgerald snatched opened the door and Dottie jumped. She couldn’t look at him in the eye and was immediately tongue-tied. ‘I didn’t know it was your day off … um … I wouldn’t have …’
‘Is it your Reg?’ he asked all businesslike and formal.
‘It’s little Gary Smith,’ Dottie gabbled. ‘Peaches and Jack are really worried. We thought it was just a cold and a bit of sunshine would do him good so we’ve been to the beach all day at Littlehampton. He’s been too poorly even to join in with all the other kids.’
‘I’ll get the car,’ said the doctor.
‘It’s your day off,’ Mariah reminded him.
‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ said Dottie at the same time. ‘Jack’s here. He’ll run us over to Heene Road.’
‘I’ll just get my bag,’ Dr Fitzgerald insisted.
Dottie hurried back up the path. She wanted to get into the lorry before the doctor suggested taking her as passenger in the car. Jack was leaning anxiously out of the cab. ‘He’s coming,’ she said, swinging open the door and climbing in beside him.
‘Thank God for that,’ said Jack with feeling.
Dr Fitzgerald followed them to number thirty-four where Jack and Peaches lived. It made Dottie feel uncomfortable knowing that he was right behind them. She’d have to deal with this. She had to find a way of making it clear that his advances were totally unwelcome, and then they would both know where they stood.
‘You will come in with us, won’t you, Dottie?’ said Jack as they pulled up outside.
‘Well …’ Dottie began.
‘Peaches would be glad of a friend.’
When they all got inside the house, Gary was already in bed. Dr Fitzgerald, Peaches and Jack went upstairs and while they were all gone, Dottie busied herself making some tea for when they all came down. After a few minutes, she heard Peaches cry out, ‘Oh no, no!’
Dottie dropped the lid of the teapot and raced upstairs, her heart pounding with fear.
Peaches was sobbing in Jack’s arms. Little Gary was lying very still on the top of his bed while Dr Fitzgerald was pulling down his pyjama top. For one awful second, Dottie feared the worst, but then she saw Gary move his arm very slightly. ‘I’ll go back home and telephone for the ambulance,’ Doctor Fitzgerald was saying.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Dottie gasped.
‘I’m going with him,’ said Peaches.
‘I’m afraid that will be impossible, Mrs Smith,’ said Dr Fitzgerald, shaking his head. ‘Not in your condition.’
‘But I’m his mother!’ Peaches wailed.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ said Dottie looking wildly from one to the other.
Dr Fitzgerald closed his bag with a loud snap. ‘I’m not one hundred percent sure,’ he said, ‘but it looks to me like poliomyelitis.’
Eight
Billy didn’t have the energy to run all the way back to Aunt Peaches. He was much too tired.
It had been a grand day. Memories of the Punch and Judy show, paddling in the water and that huge ice cream Uncle Jack had given him kept going over and over in his mind. It had been his best day ever. Even better than the day Phil Hartwell let him hold the dead frog his cat had killed.
It was late. It was already way past his bedtime when Mum came back downstairs after she’d put the twins and Susan to bed and said, ‘Run over to your Aunt Peaches and find out how Gary is.’
He’d said, ‘Aw, Mum,’ but he’d known it was no use arguing. Tom looked at him over the top of his evening paper. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to: the look was enough. Billy walked as fast as he could all the way there without stopping.
Uncle Jack’s lorry was parked outside the house and the cab door was wide open. The doctor’s car was there too. And right in front of the house, there was an ambulance as well. Billy hung back. If the adults saw him, they’d be bound to send him back home again.
‘This is no place for nippers,’ Uncle Jack would say.
The ambulance door was wide open too. Billy could see the bed and all sorts of boxes and things. He tried imagining what it was like to be an ambulance driver. It was bound to be exciting. He might see squashed people … that would be better than a squashed frog the cat killed any day. He sat down on the kerb and gripped an imaginary steering wheel.
‘Neee-arrr,’ he said as he careered around the corner at top speed to save his patient.
He heard the front door open. Dr Fitzgerald came out with his doctor’s bag and the ambulance man, dressed in his dark uniform and cap, followed him. The ambulance man was carrying someone in his arms. The someone was all wrapped up in a blanket and although Billy couldn’t actually see who it was, judging by the way he was screaming, and the fact that Aunt Peaches was right behind him crying her eyes out, he knew it had to be Gary.
Auntie Dot came out and gave Aunt Peaches a kiss on the cheek. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said. He liked Auntie Dottie a lot. She was nice.
He thought back to the time when they’d paddled in the sea together. He’d been wearing his knitted cossie. Auntie Dottie didn’t have one but she had picked up her skirts and walked into the water until it was right up to her knees. No other grown up had done that. And she hadn’t minded getting wet either. She’d kicked the water all over him and when he’d done the same to her, she didn’t get cross and yell at him. She’d splashed him back and she’d laughed. He liked to hear Auntie Dottie laugh. She didn’t do it very much but when she did, her whole face lit up. He could tell by the anxious look on her face now that she wasn’t very happy.
‘You will stay with him, won’t you?’ Aunt Peaches wailed. ‘He’ll be so frightened.’
‘I’ll stay as long as they let me,’ Auntie Dottie promised. ‘The ambulance man says they have very strict visiting hours, but I’ll be there until they kick me out.’
‘I should be there,’ cried Aunt Peaches. ‘I’m his mother.’
Auntie Dottie hugged her again. ‘You have the little one to think of. Now leave Gary to me. Until he’s back on his feet, I’ll be his mum.’
Aunt Peaches blew her nose in her hanky. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dottie.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ smiled Dottie. ‘What are friends for?’
Uncle Jack appeared behind her. ‘I’ll follow the ambulance in the lorry and bring Dottie home.’
‘Come along now, Madam,’ said the ambulance driver. ‘The sooner we get him to hospital the better.’
‘Someone ought to tell Mary,’ Dottie said as she climbed into the back of the ambulance.
Billy stood up and ran to the open door. ‘I’ll tell me mum, Auntie Dot.’ But the other ambulance man pushed him away. ‘Off you go now, sonny. This is no place for you.’
‘Tell your mum Gary is in hospital,’ Auntie Dot called to him. ‘Tell her he’s got poliomyelitis.’ The ambulance man shut the door, banged it twice and walked round to the front and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Billy watched as the ambulance raced down the road, its bell ringing like mad. He was confused. What was that she said? Polo-my-light-us? What was that?
Aunt Peaches was going back into the house.
‘What shall I say is wrong with Gary, Aunt Peaches?’
‘Gary is very ill,’ sniffed Peaches. She put her handkerchief to her mouth and closed the door. A second later, it opened again. ‘And don’t you come round again. It’s too dangerous. And tell your mum, none of your family is to come either.’
Billy stared at the closed door. Why couldn’t he go to Aunt Peaches? What had he done wrong? He turned and walked down the road scuffing his shoes and trying to work it out.
‘Hey-up, Billy. You coming on the swings?’
It was Paul Dore on his bike. He pulled up beside Billy.
‘I got to go home,’ said Billy miserably. His mum would go spare when he told her he’d upset Aunt Peaches. He’d get a walloping for sure.
‘Aw, come on,’ Paul cajoled. ‘I’ll give you a lift on me bike.’
It didn’t take much to persuade Billy to put off the moment he faced his mum. When they got to the playground, they didn’t have a swing, that was for babies, but the scrubland along the edges of the park was great for a game of Cowboys and Indians.
There was a whole crowd of them there including Mark and David Weaver. Everyone wanted to hear about his day on the beach.
‘Lucky devil,’ said David as he told them about the Punch and Judy man and his big ice cream. ‘Bags I’m John Wayne.’
‘It’s my turn,’ said Mark.
‘You did it last time,’ Billy protested.
In the end, Billy’s day out was forgotten as they had a scrap about who was going to be John Wayne and David Weaver won. Then they whooped around the bushes shooting Indians until it began to get cold and the light was failing. Paul Dore gave Billy a lift back on his handlebars as far as the road next to his and Billy, knowing that he was bound to be in trouble, walked slowly home.
‘Where the devil have you been?’ his mother demanded as she opened the door. She clipped his ear as he walked past. ‘I’ve been worried sick.’
‘Gary’s gone to hospital,’ said Billy quickly. ‘He’s got …’ He froze. He couldn’t remember what it was called. ‘And Aunt Peaches said none of us should come to her house ever again and she was so upset about it, she sent Auntie Dottie off in the ambulance with him.’
His mother put her hand to her throat. ‘Don’t tell me he’s got polio,’ she said quietly.
The isolation hospital was rather grim. It smelled of carbolic soap and disinfectant and it was dimly lit because most of the patients were asleep. Dottie followed the nurse who wheeled Gary onto the ward on an adult-sized stretcher. He looked so small and vulnerable. Wordlessly, they took him to a cot and the nurse drew the curtains around him, leaving Dottie on the outside.
‘Are you the child’s mother?’
Dottie shook her head at the doctor who had walked up behind her. ‘His mother is eight months pregnant,’ she explained. ‘Her doctor was worried about infection so he told her not to come. I’m a close friend.’ The hospital doctor said nothing. ‘Gary’s father is here,’ Dottie went on. ‘He’s parking the lorry.’
The doctor parted the curtain and went inside. Gary was whimpering.
‘If you would like to wait outside,’ said Sister, pulling little white cuffs over the rolled-up sleeves of her dark blue uniform. ‘I’ll come and speak to you later.’
Behind the curtain, Gary, obviously in pain, began to cry.
Dottie hesitated. ‘I promised his mother I’d hold his hand,’ she said anxiously.
‘We have to examine him,’ Sister said, ‘and the doctor will have to give him a lumbar puncture. It’s not very pleasant, I’m afraid, but it has to be done. We need to know what we’re up against. Now if you would like to wait outside …’
It was as much as Dottie could do to fight back the tears as she waited in the corridor for Jack to arrive. She stared hard at the green and cream tiled walls and the brown linoleum floors until she thought she knew every crack. Beyond the peeling brown door Gary’s cries grew more heart-rending. Jack hurried towards her, turning his cap around and around in his hand anxiously.