Morag Joss - The Night Following

Evelyn’s good spirits survived, even when Grace refused to describe the car to her. Was it big and black and shiny, she asked, but Grace would say only that yes it was a car, yes it was big and black, just about all cars were, and as to shiny she hadn’t noticed. Inside the car smelled leathery and expensive. When she leaned across and asked Grace in a whisper if the driver was in a uniform, Grace shooshed her impatiently.

They drove in silence. When the sounds of other traffic died away and she knew they were out of town, Evelyn wound down the window for some country air. But she enjoyed it for only a few minutes before Grace complained of the draught.

It was getting on for dinnertime when the car left the road and made its way slowly along gravel and finally came to a stop. The driver jumped out and crunched round to open the passenger door.

“Here you are, ladies, the Maud Braddock Memorial Home for Invalids,” he said, handing Evelyn out so gallantly that she felt certain he was in uniform, complete with cap.

The air was certainly bracing, just what you would want at a place of convalescence, Evelyn said to herself, breathing it in. It was cool and mossy, and somehow watery, and there seemed to be a lot of it, more than you got in an ordinary lungful of town air. She could hear a fast-flowing stream not far away, and birds high in the sky. But Grace was tramping ahead over the gravel now, and Evelyn followed.

The place seemed half hospital, half hotel, hushed and smelling of floor polish rather than disinfectant. They were greeted in the hall and told that Mr. Hibbert was expecting them, and then they were led into a room so warm Evelyn felt she had stepped into a greenhouse. Indeed she almost had, as Uncle Les, who was waiting there, explained. They had entered a marvellous, newly built glass sun lounge, the last word in luxury, that stretched across one side of the front of the old Edwardian building, originally used as a hunting lodge.

He went on to tell them that the Maud Braddock Memorial Home for Wounded Servicemen had been set up here during the War. Now there was no further use for it in that capacity, and it was now catering to a different clientele altogether, convalescents and invalids who would pay for the best and insist on getting it.

“Like your sun lounge, for instance,” Uncle Les said, waving his arm.“Deluxe. No expense spared.”

A proper sun trap it was, apparently, where most of the patients lay on reclining chairs surrounded by potted palms for much of the day, basking in the warmth.

“Blowing a gale outside and you could be on the Riviera, lying here,” Uncle Les said.

“Don’t you want to get out, though, into the fresh air?” Evelyn asked. Uncle Les explained that half an hour out of doors twice a day, morning and afternoon, was as much as he was allowed. Well wrapped up in blankets, he was wheeled along by a nurse and encouraged to walk for five minutes at the beginning and the end of each session. Next week he was going to walk for ten minutes each time, and he was also planning to try the steam bath in the Home’s brand-new hydro facilities.

Perhaps once they’d stayed for lunch (and the food was excellent, he assured them), and he’d had his afternoon nap, Grace would be so kind as to do the honours and push him along in his wicker chair for his afternoon constitutional? That’s if, Uncle Les said rather tightly, she would deign to honour them with her presence? He’d only glimpsed her at the door, and then she’d disappeared. Where had she got to?

Uncle Les called a nurse and asked if Grace had been seen wandering about anywhere, and might she be informed that her uncle was ready to be her host at luncheon. Evelyn said nothing. She hoped Grace might just have taken herself off outside to explore and go for a walk, since the opportunity to enjoy country air was a rare one for Grace as much as for herself, but still she felt uneasy. Once the nurse had been dispatched to find Mr. Hibbert’s mislaid visitor, Uncle Les began telling her, in a low whisper, about some of his fellow patients and Evelyn tried to concentrate, frowning.

Half an hour later, Grace still had not been found. The nurse reported back to them that she thought the lady must have gone for a longer walk, and she would ask the kitchen to keep aside something for her luncheon, which was now about to be served.

But when the meal, braised liver and onions with cabbage, with a glass of milk stout for Les, followed by ginger pudding, was over, there was still no sign of Grace. After coffee, Les was wheeled away for his hour’s rest, and Evelyn was invited to sit in the sun lounge.

It was while she was there, feeling the sun on her face through the glass, that the commotion began. The same nurse who had looked for Grace came running in.

“Oh, excuse me, madam!” she began. She seemed not to know what to say next. “Oh, madam, your daughter, she is your daughter, isn’t she? Oh, thank goodness you’re here. Oh, what a shock! We need to contact her husband at once! Matron doesn’t think it’s going to be very long!”

Evelyn was mystified. “Why, whatever is the matter? Where is she? She’s all right, isn’t she? What isn’t going to be very long?”

“Oh, madam! She’s doing fine, it’s all going to be fine, though Matron says it’s early. The gardener found her in the little summerhouse, we got her indoors at once, of course, lucky there was a room vacant. And Matron’s a qualified midwife, thank goodness! Though she’s rusty, she says. Of course we’ve rung for the doctor. But we need to contact her husband to let him know!”

Evelyn sat silent for a moment. “I understand. I see. Yes. Yes, now I understand,” she said quietly. “Let’s not get hysterical.” She paused, thinking. “Her husband can’t possibly get here in time. He isn’t available,” she said firmly, “but we’ll deal with that in due course. The main thing is that she’s all right. I’m very sorry for this inconvenience, but yes, it is lucky she’s here. Take me to her, please. It won’t be long, you say?”

They walked swiftly into the hall and the nurse began to lead her upstairs. She was nervous and seemed unable to stop talking.

“It’s the little room at the top. Quiet. You know, nice and private, right at the back. Well, Matron says that’s better, in case there’s to be any, you know, commotion…Well, what with the other patients, I mean they’re here to rest, aren’t they, when all’s said and done? There’s a nice little fire lit and it’s got a nice view of one side of the garden, and-”

Evelyn interrupted her. “Another thing. Please don’t wake Mr. Hibbert. There’s no need to disturb him. When he’s had his rest, would you take him for his walk as usual? I don’t want him upset. I’ll give him the news later. Afterwards.”

A little over two hours later, Evelyn sat by Grace’s bed holding the almost weightless bundle in her arms. The baby girl was tiny, but healthy. Although about four weeks too soon, it had been a quick and straightforward birth. Just as well, Matron had said tersely to Evelyn, since they weren’t equipped for childbirth. And it was a great pity, in her opinion, that the father was working down south and would have to be informed by telegram once the mother had returned to Aldbury, where she had left his address. Then, with a click of her tongue and a murmur that seemed to indicate she was softening, and was perhaps rather proud of having delivered a baby safely, she had left the mother, new daughter, and grandmother alone.

Tears flooded down Evelyn’s cheeks as she cradled the new arrival. It was no use, she was never going to know. Grace was too exhausted to be as hostile as usual, but she was refusing point-blank to name the baby’s father.