much.’ She was willing her voice not to break. ‘So I’ll tell you what I’ll do.’ She fondled Gary’s hair again. ‘I’m going to give Brumas to you to cuddle and I’m going to put Ivy down here at the end of the bed.’
As Gary tried in vain to move his head in the direction of the bear, the full extent of his paralysis became a chilling reality. Dottie bit back her own tears.
‘Ivy loves Brumas very much,’ she went on, ‘just like your mummy loves you. She’ll be watching Brumas all the time, see?’
She placed the larger bear in his direct line of vision.
‘You look after Brumas and all the time you see Ivy watching him, you’ll know your mummy is thinking about you too.’
She lifted his limp arm and placed Brumas next to his body.
‘Is Ivy watching him?’
‘Yes,’ Gary whimpered.
‘See?’ said Dottie. ‘Ivy is watching Brumas so your mummy must be thinking about you.’
Gary looked up and gave her a weak smile.
‘Sister says it’s time to go,’ said a young nurse, coming up to them. ‘We have got to get all these children ready for bed.’
It was a ridiculous statement, but Dottie knew what she meant. She leaned forward to kiss Gary goodbye but the nurse held her shoulder. ‘No. Not too close.’
Dottie kissed her own fingers and touched Gary’s forehead. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can, darling.’ The lump forming in her throat felt like it would choke her. She had to keep strong. She mustn’t let Gary see her cry. ‘Mummy will come along another day.’
She left him watching Ivy. ‘Thank you, Nurse,’ she said as they reached the door.
‘No,’ said the nurse, taking a furtive glance over her shoulder, ‘thank you. I’m sure he’ll be much happier now. That was a nice thing you did.’ And with a rustle of her starched apron, she was gone.
Dottie made her way outside, her whole body racked with sobs. As she stood in the bus shelter, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Poor little lamb. Just three years old and not allowed to see his mummy. It wasn’t fair. What was going to happen to him?
‘Dear Lord,’ she prayed through her tears, ‘don’t let him be paralysed all his life.’
The bus came and she got on. Thankfully she couldn’t see anyone she knew. As she looked out of the window, she allowed herself a small smile as she recalled Brumas under the sheet and Ivy watching him. She’d go round and tell Peaches all about it later this evening when Reg had gone to the pub. It wasn’t much but it would certainly put her friend’s mind at rest. Careful that she mustn’t do anything to let Reg know where she’d been, Dottie got off two stops before she needed and walked the rest of the way home. The fresh air gave her a chance to clear her head and to compose herself.
Eleven
It was a mad rush to get the tea ready before Reg got home and the potatoes still needed another ten minutes when Dottie saw him parking his bike against the wall. She wondered what sort of a mood he was in; but she needn’t have worried. He was feeling cheerful. He handed her a bunch of sweet peas.
‘Ooh, Reg!’ She couldn’t hide her surprise. He seldom gave her the flowers from his station garden, preferring instead to hand them out to his passengers. In between his station duties, he’d built up a reputation as an expert nurseryman, cultivating flowers and even a few vegetables on the strip of land alongside the station ticket office, and collecting a great many ardent admirers along the way. It was well known in the village that if you had a gardening problem, Reg was the man to ask.
She held them to her nose and sniffed them loudly. ‘They’re lovely.’
‘The fence is covered,’ he said proudly. ‘A really nice show this year.’
He sat in his chair and took off his railwayman’s boots, then went upstairs. A few minutes later he came down in his gardening clothes. ‘Just going out to dig a few spuds,’ he said. ‘Dinner nearly ready?’
‘Five more minutes,’ she said as she arranged the sweet peas in a vase. Their heady perfume filled the kitchen and she could tell they were his prize blooms by their big, perfectly formed petals. They were the talk of the village.
‘No one can grow sweet peas like your Reg.’
‘He ought to go enter the flower show with those blooms.’
‘Magnificent. What’s his secret?’
She was back in the scullery putting the runner beans in a colander when she heard a footfall outside the back door.
‘I’m just dishing up, Reg,’ she called.
‘Dottie, it’s me.’
Dottie swung round to find Peaches in the doorway. She looked drained. Her face was pale and she wore no make-up. There were dark circles under her eyes. ‘I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, but Jack and I couldn’t wait. How is he? Did he look any better?’
Dottie grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. She’d have to be quick. She have to say her piece before Reg came back up the garden.
‘What’s she bloody doing here?’ He was already sitting at the kitchen table. He rose to his feet. ‘Get out of here, Peaches Smith. You’re not welcome.’
Peaches stared at him aghast. ‘Not welcome …?’ she said faintly.
‘No …’ Dottie began. ‘What Reg means …’
But Reg stepped between them, pushing Dottie aside. ‘Look, no offence,’ he said, his tone a little less harsh, ‘but Dottie’s afraid she’ll get it, see?
‘Wait, Reg …’ Dottie protested.
Peaches gave her a stricken look.
‘Listen, Peaches …’ Dottie gasped. ‘Let me explain.’
But before Dottie could start, Reg had taken Peaches’ arm and was manoeuvring her back through the door. ‘It’s best if you don’t come round for a while.’
Peaches stared at him. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Hang on a minute …’ Dottie began again.
Peaches rounded on Dottie. ‘You promised to go and see my Gary today. Didn’t you go?’
Dottie saw Reg’s back stiffen and her heart almost stopped. What was she going to do now? If she said yes, he would have one of his moods. If she said no, Peaches would be distraught. For a second, her brain refused to function. Think, she told herself desperately, think. Say something. Say the right thing. They were both facing her now, one staring at her with a helpless expression and the other with that dark look in his eye.
‘Look, Dottie can’t help the way she feels,’ said Reg, his eyes unmoving as they stared into her face. His words soft and measured.
‘But you did go and see him, didn’t you, Dottie? You saw my baby?’
Dottie turned away. She lowered herself into a chair. She’d have to lie. To placate Reg, she’d have to lie. She’d go round to Peaches later, like she planned, and she’d explain why she had to do it. Peaches would understand.
‘Dottie?’
‘I’m afraid Reg is right,’ Dottie said quietly. ‘I didn’t go.’
‘But you promised,’ Peaches wailed. ‘My poor baby. All alone …’
‘It’s not that she doesn’t care for the boy,’ Reg said, his voice as smooth as silk.
‘Oh yes,’ said Peaches her voice turning brittle, ‘everybody cares.’ She snatched her arm away from Reg. ‘If I’d known you weren’t