‘Just call me Sarah. There is no Mr Jones, but that’s another story,’ Sarah replied, lowering her eyes. ‘Well, we should be going now. It’s nearing Anthony’s tea time. We look forward to seeing you Saturday week about three o’clock, without your head in a bandage,’ she said, smiling. Ronnie smiled back. He was looking forward to it, very much.
Chapter 7
Dot insisted on coming to accompany Ronnie on the bus back to Whippingham.
‘I would have been perfectly all right by myself, I could have ridden my bike anyway. It’s still in the bike shed at Saunders-Roe,’ Ronnie said.
‘Well, there’s no point in you carrying on about it. I’m here now. And riding a bike after a head injury doesn’t sound sensible to me,’ Dot replied. ‘You can collect it when you start work again. Now let’s get on our way. Amelia’s making her special chicken-and-ham pie for lunch and you, my dear, will spend the next few days doing exactly as you’re told. Mr Farthing has said you’re not to return to work until you’re fully recovered.’
For Ronnie, a few days seemed like an interminable time to be stuck at home and fussed over. He would allow them to mollycoddle him over the weekend and then, on Monday, he fully intended to go back to work.
Ronnie understood why Dot mothered him. She had been like a mother to him since they’d left Micklewell. Dot had supported her family in times of hardship and had raised Ronnie and Tilly with the help of Amelia Clarence, her mentor and friend. She’d had to make compromises and marry her then-fiancé, William, in secret, or she would have lost her job as a teacher. Ronnie thought it a strange sort of marriage. It was hard on both her and William, but they saw each other when they could at his home in Southampton where he worked for a shipping company. Somehow, they seemed to make a success of it.
As the bus got closer to home, Ronnie’s mouth began to water. He was looking forward to eating one of Amelia’s speciality meals. She was a wonderful cook and he couldn’t wait to taste what was in the oven. There were benefits to beinglooked after, he told himself. He resolved not to be a grumpy patient. Giving in gratefully to a plateful of home-cooked pie and vegetables was not a huge difficulty after all they had given to him.
Ronnie could smell the aroma of steak-and-kidney pie when he stepped inside the schoolhouse. Amelia rushed through from the kitchen as soon as they closed the door.
‘Ah, here’s our hero,’ Amelia said. She embraced him and immediately wanted to hear all about what had happened. ‘Now, let’s all have a nice cup of tea while you tell all,’
Dot put the kettle on while Amelia cross-examined Ronnie, wanting to know all the details of his heroic act. Ronnie had regained some of his memory and he was able to recall the moment when he’d reached the boy and handed him up to the boatman.
‘But then it’s all rather hazy,’ he said.
‘Well, you’re home now, all safe and sound,’ Amelia said. ‘And we’re so relieved. I expect the boy’s mother was extremely grateful that a brave young man was at the right place at the right time. Her son might have drowned.’
‘So grateful that she turned up at the hospital to thank him apparently. And by the sounds of it, our Ronnie is quite smitten.’ Dot grinned.
‘What do you mean?’ Ronnie said, his face turning pink.
‘I mean that you talked profusely about how lovely she looked and waxed lyrical about her beautiful red hair,’ Dot replied.
‘I might have mentioned her appearance and how distinctive she looked, yes.’
Dot interrupted him. ‘And you noticed the colour of her eyes, a dazzling green, you said,’ she teased.
‘She’s twisting my words,’ Ronnie protested. ‘I simply described how she came close to me and held my hand to thank me. Actually, she’s invited me to tea to show her gratitude.’
‘And you accepted, I’m sure, being the gentleman you are,’ Amelia said, taking Ronnie’s side. ‘Of course, she wants to show how grateful she is for risking your own life to save her son’s. The young woman must have been distraught when she saw her child disappear beneath the waves.’
‘Well, I’m sure her husband would like to thank you too,’ Dot said, placing the tea tray on the table.
Ronnie made no comment. It wasn’t necessary to disclose any further information and invite more comment from Dot. She was too adept at jumping to conclusions.
* * *
Ronnie returned to work the following Monday as he had planned. He spent the day being lauded and applauded by his colleagues for the local newspaper had reported on the incident.Local man saves child from drowning, the headline said. Mr Farthing had cut out the piece from the paper and shown it to everyone at Saunders-Roe, including the managing director who called Ronnie to his office to congratulate him on his quick thinking. Ronnie had become the centre of attention and it made him feel quite embarrassed.
When the weekend finally arrived, he began to feel nervous about visiting the young woman and her child. He arrived at exactly the appointed time. He opened the main entrance door at number 3 York Avenue and stepped inside. Ronnie could see that he was standing in a dingy passageway, painted in a gloomy dark-green paint. A bicycle was leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and there was a smell of boiled cabbage. He looked across the passageway and saw a bold number 1 on the door to the right of the stairs. Not Sarah’s room, then. As hepaused, the door opened and a shrivelled old woman in a loose-fitting cardigan stood there, stooped over her walking stick.
‘Good afternoon,’ Ronnie said. ‘I’m looking for number two.’
The old woman held onto the door frame and waggled her stick in the direction of the bicycle.
‘Thank you,’ Ronnie said.
‘You’re not the usual one as comes,’ the woman hissed through her teeth. ‘He’s usually drunk and wakes me from my afternoon nap with his cussing and swearing. I’m pleased to see she’s found herself someone more respectable,’ she continued, looking Ronnie up and down.
Ronnie was taken aback by her comments, but simply thanked her again and turned to negotiate the bicycle that blocked the passageway.
