Goodbye Hamilton Page 7

  My eyes wide, my mouth half-open, I said, ‘Never!’ And he nodded slowly and said, ‘But yes. I think I nearly did go a bit mad at that stage, and I confronted Mother with it. She denied, of course, the implication with regard to myself but reminded me that my Uncle Henry had epileptic fits and would disappear for short spells.’

  ‘You should leave her, Tommy.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Tommy.’ I put out my hand and caught his as I said, ‘You must take a flat and, not just a flat, a girlfriend.’

  His reaction to this suggestion was to place his hand on top of mine and to stare at me for a moment before saying, ‘When will you be free?’

  ‘Oh, Tommy.’ I pulled my hand sharply away from his and said seriously, ‘There are some fine women about, lonely women, just waiting for someone like you to say, hello there. They’d jump at the chance.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they might.’ He got to his feet now and went to the side of the fire and leant his elbow on the mantelshelf, and after a moment he said quietly, ‘Yes, I suppose there’s a woman somewhere who wouldn’t mind linking up with me. But life plays dirty tricks on you. Something happens and you find you can’t tolerate even the thought of such a thing.’

  Into the silence that fell between us there penetrated the bustle in the house and a commotion in the hall; then young Gordon rushed in, waving a paper and crying, ‘Auntie! Auntie! Look! You’re in the paper, in the Evening Chronicle. Front page, look.’

  He held the paper before me, and yes, there I saw this fur-clad individual holding a white poodle in her arms. She was smiling…That wasn’t me, was it? But yes it was: there was Nardy at one side of me and Tommy at the other. As I took the paper from Gordon, George came into the room, yelling, ‘Let’s have a look!’

  He had a look; then put his arm around me and said, ‘Film star. That’s what you look like, bloody film star. And look what it says:

  Mrs Leviston, better known as Miriam Carter, the successful novelist, has returned to her old home to spend New Year with her friends, Mr & Mrs George Carter. She was accompanied by her husband.

  Now what d’you think of that, eh? Her friends Mr & Mrs George Carter. That’ll show the lot of ’em round about. I can’t wait to hear the chatter.’

  Gordon now grinned at me and, his head nodding shyly, he said, ‘You look smashin’, like me dad said; like a film star.’

  ‘Oh, Gordon.’ I ruffled his thick hair. ‘You’ve never seen a film star.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I have, on the telly and at the pictures. They all wear fur coats in the winter.’

  Mary, Gran, and Nardy now came into the room, followed by the other children, and there was a series of ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs’ and ‘Would you believe it,’ with Gran putting the cap on it all in her inimitable way by saying, ‘It doesn’t look a bit like you, lass.’ And when George bawled at her, ‘Oh, that’s you, Ma, as tactful as a billy goat with its head down,’ she bawled back at him, ‘She knows I didn’t mean it that way; people dressed in fur coats like that are generally empty-headed upstarts, or those no better than they should be, ’specially if they are posin’ with dogs an’…’

  Her voice was drowned with the laughter. Even the children were saying, ‘Oh! Gran. Gran.’

  And to this she responded with ‘Oh, to hell with the lot of you! I want a drink; let battle begin.’

  It was at this very moment that the battle inside me did begin: the pain shot through my side like a knife. I opened my mouth and gasped aloud, but it was drowned by the hubbub in the room. Dropping down quickly into a chair I lay back and gripped the arms, crying inside myself, ‘No, no. Not now, not at this moment.’ The pain eased a little and I looked around. Everybody was dressed in his best: the children, Mary, George, Gran, and of course, Nardy and Tommy, who always looked as if they were dressed in their best. We were all ready to greet the New Year; and this I felt sure was going to be wonderful for all of us, including Tommy. Something must happen to bring Tommy some happiness, for he had become so dear to both Nardy and me.

  ‘Oh! Oo…h!’ My legs stiffened against the pain. Nardy was at my side now, anxiously enquiring, ‘What is it?’

  I gulped in my throat and said, ‘Nothing, just a twinge.’

  ‘A twinge? Come along, tell me the truth, this is no time for being heroic. You’re in pain?’

  I put my hand on his and gripped it tight, and I felt my nails going into his flesh as another pain racked me. When it was gone I muttered, ‘It’ll pass. It’s just the kind of…’ I was about to say ‘spasm’, when I was brought double. And now, there was Tommy, and Gran, and George, and Mary all about me, and I heard Nardy say, ‘It’s the appendix. I knew this would happen. She should have had it seen to weeks ago.’

  ‘I’ll phone the doctor.’

  As George went to move away I managed to hold up my hand and cry, ‘No! No! Please. It’ll go.’

  ‘Phone him.’ Nardy’s tone was definite, and his voice seemed to be the last clear one I heard until I saw, through a haze of pain, Mike’s face hovering above me, and him saying, ‘There now, it’s all right. Everything’s arranged; you’re going to be all right.’

  I remembered feeling the cold air on my face as I was carried outside, then the floating feeling as I was lifted onto a trolley. The last I remembered was being in an enclosed room and someone lifting my arm and saying, ‘You’re going to sleep. You’ll be all right, you’re going to sleep.’

  I was told later they had just got it in time. Another hour or so and things would have gone pretty badly with me. As it was, they had not only taken my appendix out, but also removed quite a lot of adhesions from lower down in the bowel. Two for the price of one.

  Two for the price of one.

  Two for the price of one.

  Slowly I opened my eyes, and there was Nardy’s face above me. And as my muzzy mind said, ‘Oh, my love, my love,’ I opened my mouth wide and groaned. They hadn’t taken it out, I knew they hadn’t taken it out. This pain was awful. ‘Oh, Nardy, Nardy.’

  ‘It’s all right, my dear, it’s all over.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t bear this, it’s dreadful.’

  Someone was messing about with my arm again. I turned my head and looked at the nurse as she stuck a needle in. I looked up into her face, but it was Begonia, and I spoke her name, saying, ‘Thank you, Begonia.’ And the last thing I heard at this time was her voice saying, ‘She called me Begonia and my name’s Betty.’

  Five

  After the first two days I had a string of visitors. Everybody was very cheerful, and I had to beg George and Gran not to make me laugh. About the fourth or fifth day I noticed the change in my visitors: their merriment was forced; they didn’t stay long. I said to Nardy, ‘Is anything wrong at home?’ And he said, ‘Now what could be wrong?’

  I said to Tommy, ‘Something’s the matter with George and Gran. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing that I know of,’ he said. ‘You’re a bit low; and of course you’re bound to be, aren’t you? After what you’ve gone through.’

  On the seventh day I said to Nardy, ‘I want to go home; I’m quite up to it.’ And to this he answered brusquely, ‘You’re certainly not up to it, and you’re certainly not coming home until the doctor gives the word. You’ve hardly been on your feet yet. Now look, I’m leaving tonight for home. I’ll go to the office in the morning, collect some work, and I’ll be back by tomorrow evening; and in the meantime, you be a good girl and do what you’re told.’ His voice changed as he added, ‘I do miss you, dear. It isn’t life when you’re not there.’

  How comforting were those words, how warming to my heart.

  The following afternoon I had only one visitor, Mary. She said Gran had developed a cold. I looked into her face; her eyes looked slightly swollen. I said, ‘Have you caught a cold too, Mary?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ve got a bit of it,’ she said. ‘It’s…it’s gone right through the children.’

  The following evening, Nardy came and brought
a message from Janet. Apparently, she said she was missing me, and would I hurry home. And to this I said, ‘I want to hurry home. Look, I am up.’ And I went to pull myself from the chair, but he pressed me back, saying, ‘Yes, I know you are, dear. Just give it one or two more days. Do this for me, will you?’

  ‘Nardy.’

  ‘Yes, my love?’

  ‘There’s something wrong somewhere. Mary said Gran’s got a cold, and George didn’t come in last night. Is it the children? Has something happened to one of the children?’

  ‘No, no, they’re as healthy and noisy as ever. I left them squabbling amongst themselves in the kitchen.’

  I jerked at the chair. ‘Gran’s ill. Something’s happened to Gran.’

  ‘Woman! Nothing’s happened to Gran. She’s her old, loud, brash self. Well’—he paused—‘not quite that, she’s…as Mary said, she’s got this cold.’

  ‘She’s in bed?’

  ‘No, no, she’s not in bed, but…but you know what a cold’s like, streaming eyes, runny nose. She would have passed it onto you if she had come.’

  I went through them all in my mind. Gran, George. George. I put my hand out and gripped Nardy’s. ‘It’s George. He wasn’t in last night; he…he…’

  ‘Oh, my Lord,woman! I left George not half an hour ago. The only thing I can tell that has happened to George in the last day or two is that his vocabulary has extended somewhat. I thought he had used every swear word in the book, but he’s added a few more.’

  ‘Why? What’s made him do that?’ My tone was testy, and he spread out his hand and said, ‘The bus I suppose, the passengers.’

  I was puzzled. I was quick to pick up an atmosphere. There was something wrong with one of them and the rest were troubled. But who? I looked at Nardy and noticed that his face looked white and slightly drawn. I mentioned this. ‘You’re tired,’ I said. ‘You look pale.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had a long day. I dashed to the office, and was held up there giving one and the other the news. They all send their love, especially Tommy. I had to make another dash for the train, laden down with manuscripts that I don’t want to read. The sun was shining when I left London; when I got out at Newcastle the sleet nearly blinded me. I dumped my burden in the hall, said hello and goodbye to them all, and here I am. Of course I look pale. I’m a poor harassed man, because I’ve got a wife who’s let her imagination run wild again. By the way, where’s Hamilton?’

  I smiled wryly. ‘It’s funny, but I haven’t seen him for days. I saw Begonia once, at least I think I did, but that’s all. They’ve deserted me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t like that. I want another book.’

  ‘That’s all you think about, books, and the money you can make out of me.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Why do you think I married you?’ And this quip he softened by putting his arms around me and kissing me.

  The bell went for the visitors, but he had no need to take note of it because I was alone in a side ward. Yet he looked at his watch and said, ‘I think I’d better be making a move. Mary said she’d…well, she’d have a meal ready about half past eight, and I am a little weary and not very good company.’

  I nodded, saying, ‘Yes, yes, dear; and…and get early to bed.’

  We said goodbye, and as I saw the door close on him I became filled with a feeling of panic. He had never left before nine o’clock on other evenings; in fact, one night he was still here when night staff brought the milk round, and the nurse had laughingly said to him, ‘We’ve got an empty bed next door. We could push it in, sir, if you like.’ And in the same vein he had answered, ‘That’s a splendid idea. I’ll give you a hand.’ But tonight it was just turned eight o’clock and it seemed he couldn’t get away quickly enough. What was the matter? Gran, George, Mary, they were all right. He himself was all right. There was nobody else, only…Like a flash of lightning Hamilton appeared before me. He stood stiff and straight, his great eyes looking into mine. I said to him, ‘Sandy.’ And he moved his head twice.

  I had a phone in my room. I got through to the receptionist and gave her the house number. It was Mary’s voice that came to me, saying, ‘Fellburn 29476.’

  ‘Mary.’

  ‘Is that…is that you, Maisie?’

  ‘Yes. Mary, where’s Sandy?’

  ‘S…Sandy, he’s’—there was a pause—‘in the sitting room.’

  ‘Mary, are you telling me the truth?’

  There was a pause, and then she said, ‘Yes, Maisie, I’m telling you the truth. Sandy is in the sitting room at this minute.’

  I heaved a great sigh, then said again, ‘Mary.’ And again, she said, ‘Yes, Maisie?’ And now I put it to her, ‘Tell me what’s wrong. There’s something gone wrong, I can feel it.’

  ‘We…we are all right, Maisie. Everybody’s all right now.’

  ‘What do you mean, now?’ There was a longer pause.

  ‘I…I suppose I should have told you that Gran was a bit off-colour, but she’s perfectly all right now.’

  ‘Then why couldn’t somebody just say that instead of all this mystery? Has she had the doctor?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. And she’ll be in tomorrow.’

  ‘She will?’

  ‘Yes, yes, you’ll see her for yourself.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a relief. Goodnight, dear.’

  ‘Goodnight, Maisie.’

  I sat down on the side of the bed. Hamilton was still with me. He had been standing by the phone. I looked at him and said ruefully, ‘The quicker I get my imagination on something practical, the better.’

  His expression didn’t change: he neither agreed nor disagreed with me. But I nodded at him and said, ‘Doctors or no doctors, I’m going home tomorrow.’

  The following morning around nine o’clock there was a bit of a commotion outside my door. But then there was always commotion in the corridor, comings and goings. In any case, the kitchen was almost opposite, and there was the clatter of trays and crockery for most part of the day. But this was a different commotion. The handle of the door moved and I heard the nurse say, ‘She’s not seeing anyone. I’ve told you before.’

  ‘And I’ve told you before that she knows me. I…I did a piece about her at Christmas.’

  ‘I’ve got my instructions, no reporters. As for knowing her’—her voice sank—‘everybody in the town knows her.’

  ‘But I told you.’

  ‘I don’t care what you told me. Now am I to bring the sister?’ The voice dropped lower again and I moved towards the door and heard the last words, ‘She’s had an operation. It was quite a big affair. She hasn’t got to be troubled.’

  ‘She’ll be troubled enough when she finds out.’

  The opening of the door nearly knocked me on my back and the nurse said, ‘Now what you up to?’ To this I replied, ‘What will upset me when I find out?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, it’s…it’s…Look, Mrs Leviston; now don’t agitate yourself. Come and sit down.’

  ‘I’m not sitting down, nurse, I’m going home.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Leviston.’

  ‘And stop saying, Oh, Mrs Leviston, nurse.’ I caught hold of her arm. ‘Nurse,’ I said again quietly, ‘I’m worried, and feeling like I do, I…I won’t get any better sitting in this room trying to find out what I should know, and nobody will tell me. It’s been going on for days; I’ve sensed it. And now I know that something is wrong. That reporter knows. You know. Well, I’m not going to press you to tell me, I’m going home. Would you mind, please, asking sister to come in.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Leviston.’

  I forced a smile and said, ‘Oh, nurse.’

  Sister was some time in making her appearance; but before that I got on the phone again. It was young Betty who answered, and I said quietly. ‘Tell Uncle Nardy I want to speak to him.’

  ‘Yes, Auntie.’

  ‘What is it, dear? What’s the matter?’

  ‘The matter is, whether you come to fetch me or I make the journey myself
, I’m coming home this morning.’

  ‘You’re…you’re not. You must see the doctor…’

  ‘Doctor, or no doctor, Nardy, I’m coming home. Would you please bring my clothes. If you don’t then I shall discharge myself, order a taxi, and get into it in my dressing gown. I mean this.’ And I banged the phone down …

  Half an hour later there was Nardy, the doctor, and the sister, all saying in their different ways, ‘This is very unwise of you.’

  I thanked the staff; and had one little surprise when my generous tip to be distributed among them was refused. It was a rule that all such remuneration was forbidden.

  You live and learn, I thought. Fancy that in this commercialised, money-grabbing age.

  Nardy held my hand tightly in the taxi, but we hardly exchanged two words.

  I was going up the front steps; the door opened, and there was Gran and Mary and George and the four children. Tommy, I thought. Oh, Tommy! I turned to Nardy, saying, ‘It’s Tommy!’ and the word ended on a high note, almost a squeal.

  ‘Tommy’s all right,’ he answered quietly. ‘He’s as fit as a fiddle. At least he was when I left him yesterday except that he had threatened to do his mother in. But he laughed as he said it, so I hope he won’t do anything until we get back.’

  I was being held by Gran. I looked into her face. It was swollen, her eyes were red. The children weren’t jolly. As usual George held me and said, ‘Hello, love. Glad to see you back.’

  I was relieved of my coat and hat and led like an invalid into the sitting room. The rest followed. There was a trolley set, and on a little side table the electric coffee maker that I’d bought Mary for Christmas was bubbling gently away.