‘But I need to make Albert’s dinner,’ Kate replied.
‘You leave that to me,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘I’ll just add a few more carrots and swede to the meat stew.’
When Albert arrived home that evening, he was shocked to see the shivering form of his dear wife under the bedclothes. Hecame straight to her bedside and placed his arm gently over her shoulders.
‘Kate,’ he whispered. ‘Kate, what’s wrong?’
When she rolled towards him he could see that his lovely Kate was racked with pain and she had a fever.
‘Everything aches,’ she said, and began to cough at the effort of speaking. Albert kissed her gently on the forehead and asked if he could get her anything.
‘Some water,’ she whispered, her voice weak.
‘Where’s Ronnie?’ he asked, bringing her the water.
‘With Mrs Morton,’ Kate replied. ‘She’s made your dinner too, bless her.’
Albert asked if he could bring her some, but she said she couldn’t stomach it.
‘She looks really poorly,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘I can look out for them both tomorrow if you like. You need to go to work.’
Albert thanked Mrs Morton for her understanding. He couldn’t risk asking for time off to look after his wife. He had to report for work as usual, despite his worries for his Kate. He couldn’t be late either, the ganger was a stickler for punctuality. What should he do? There was talk of the Spanish Flu at work. Might she have caught that from somewhere?
After a very restless night with Kate tossing and turning and her body burning against his, Albert reluctantly decided he must leave her. He kissed his wife gently on the forehead and roused himself to prepare for the day and walk the two miles to work. He made himself a cup of tea and took one to Kate in bed. Ronnie was still sleeping and he carefully pulled the blankets up over him. He sliced the bread slowly and carefully. It had to last two more days. Taking his bread and cheese, he closed the door quietly.
He hated leaving her but he needed to keep this job. There were plenty of other men who would step into his shoes ifhe didn’t show willing. He was desperately worried about Kate and leaving her on her own. All he could do was pray for her recovery.
The call came halfway through the afternoon. He was in the plate-layer’s hut, taking a well-earned break when he heard the news.
‘Albert,’ the ganger said. ‘There’s a message for you arrived back at the depot. Your wife’s been taken bad and you need to get home in a hurry.’
Albert left his bread and cheese on the bench and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, his heart pounding and sweat forming on his forehead. She had to be all right.
Chapter Forty
October 1918
When Albert arrived home, Mrs Morton was watching over Kate, placing cold compresses to her forehead. Kate was racked with coughing and finding it difficult to breathe. Albert went straight to her bedside but she barely opened her eyes when he spoke to her.
‘I heard Ronnie crying,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘I waited but he didn’t stop, so I came upstairs. I found her like this.’
‘I don’t know what to do. What should I do? Should I call a doctor?’ Albert gasped.
‘You stay with her. I’ll fetch something to help her breathe,’ Mrs Morton said.
She returned with a bowl of steaming water which gave off a pungent smell.
‘I’ve put come camphor oil in to help clear her lungs,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘We’ll rub some on her chest too. Now, you sit her up and support her and I’ll hold the bowl. Come on now, Kate, deep breaths.’
Albert and Mrs Morton both encouraged her to inhale the vapours and Ronnie joined in too. He made loud sucking noises and repeated, ‘Come on, Mumma.’
Kate managed to take in some of the vapours and then dropped off to sleep, exhausted with the effort. When Mrs Morton left saying she would bring a plate of something up for Albert, Ronnie wouldn’t move from Kate’s side. He stood beside the bed, holding his mother’s hand until his own eyes started to close.
‘Come on, little man,’ Albert said, picking him up, ‘time for you to sleep too.’
Albert settled Ronnie down, then sat looking at Kate’s chest rising and falling, and listened to her struggling to find air. Mrs Morton brought him plate of stew.
‘Do you think it’s the Spanish Flu?’ Albert asked her. ‘I’ve heard tell of the hundreds who’ve got it and some who have . . .’ His voice trailed off as he struggled with the possibility that Kate might be suffering from such a deadly disease.
