‘There have been some cases around here, so I’ve heard. It could be just a chill, let’s hope so. She’s sleeping quite peacefully now,’ Mrs Morton replied.
‘Should I call a doctor?’ Albert asked again, his face creased with tiredness and worry. ‘I don’t know how we’ll pay for one though. I have no savings. We spend everything I earn. What should I do?’
Mrs Morton placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder and tried to reassure him that Kate seemed to be breathing easier.
‘Perhaps give it ’til morning,’ she said. ‘Just in case, though, I’ll give you the address of Dr Clift, he won’t charge you the earth and he’s a good doctor. Good night, Albert. I will come up first thing to see how she is.’
Albert pulled the chair close to the bed to watch over Kate. He tried to keep awake but his head gradually settled on his chest and he too fell asleep. An hour or so later he woke with a stiff neck and back, undressed himself and crept quietly under the blankets. Kate’s breathing was still laboured but she was, at least, sleeping. He turned towards her and kissed her gently on the lips.
‘My beautiful Kate, my lovely wife,’ he whispered.
As he lay beside her, he stayed awake for a long time, worrying that he should have called the doctor and praying that she would survive the night. He thought of all the men he’d witnessed die in front of him, of bodies blown apart, of brains spilling over the mud, blood seeping into the ground, men’sintestines — worm fodder. He thought of the lives he’d taken and how precious life was. What he would give now to exchange his life for hers!
He reached across, took her hand and turned her wedding band with his broad fingers, a circle of gold that bound his heart to hers. He felt his own chest tighten. He couldn’t lose her. He listened to the rhythms of her struggling body, willing her to take the next breath and the next one and the next.
He caressed her fingers, one for each week they’d been married. If only those fingers could touch his face, entwine gently with his own, be there to hold the hands of more children, brothers and sisters for Ronnie. If there was a God, then let him be satisfied with all the lives he’d taken already and spare hers.
Time passed so slowly. Albert struggled to stay awake and all he could hear in the darkness was the deep rattling sound in Kate’s chest, a sound he’d heard so many times before. The gurgling of gas in a man’s lungs was a sound he would never forget. He got out of bed, reached for the matches and lit the lamp, the sulphurous smell filling the air. Taking the lamp to the bedside, he raised the yellow light to her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open, her skin pale. He placed the lamp on the table and sat beside her. She was slipping away from him. All he could do was hold onto her and hope that she could feel him, hear him. He bent to whisper in her ear, all that he wanted to say to her, his love, his joy, his Kate. He wrapped his arms around her, his warm breath settling on her, trying to breathe life into her. The night hours closed around them and sleep eventually came.
When night turned to day, Albert’s eyes sprang open, a sudden feeling of panic constricting his throat. He’d turned away from Kate in his sleep and he feared to turn back and look at her, that he would see what his heart could not bear to see. Slowly he shifted his body to face her. Her eyes were still closed but shewas no longer struggling for breath. Her skin still looked pallid but the wheezing from her chest had lessened. He held his face close to hers. The whisper of breath that emitted from her lips came as such a relief to him, that tears flowed down his cheeks. She was still alive. He allowed himself to feel a sweet moment of hope. Could the crisis have passed?
Ronnie murmured in his sleep. Albert carefully folded back the bedclothes and went to him. The child opened his eyes and immediately said, ‘Mumma?’ Albert lifted him and carried him to Kate’s bedside. Ronnie looked down at her and then back at Albert. ‘Mumma sleeping?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Mumma is sleeping,’ Albert said with a deep sigh of relief, ‘but she will wake soon. She needs to rest. Come, let’s make some breakfast together.’
‘Can we have porridge?’ Ronnie asked.
‘Yes, son, we can,’ Albert replied. ‘But let’s get dressed first. We must be as quiet as we can, so as not to disturb Mumma.’
As Albert sat Ronnie on the chair to fasten his shoes, there was a quiet tap at the door. It was Mrs Morton.
‘How is Kate?’ she asked, a look of concern on her face.
‘Come in, please,’ he said holding the door open. ‘I think she’s a little better, her breathing is easier.’
Mrs Morton walked across to Kate’s bedside and felt her forehead. ‘She’s less clammy,’ she said. ‘The camphor seems to have helped. Rub some more on her chest, Albert, and make sure she takes some water. Fetch a cup and I’ll show you how.’
At Mrs Morton’s touch, Kate stirred, her eyelids flickering. She murmured something that made no sense but she was beginning to come around.
Mrs Morton sat on the bed and gently moved her arm behind Kate’s back.
‘Bring another pillow,’ she said. ‘We need to get her more upright.’
Together the two of them raised Kate up, enough for her to sip some water.
‘Little sips, Albert. Not too much or she’ll choke. Whenever she stirs, try to get her to take some more.’
Albert moved through the days that followed with one mind only, to make sure Kate recovered. Mrs Morton cooked and looked after Ronnie when she could, while Albert carried out Mrs Morton’s instructions, watched and waited and prayed.
On the third day, the morning light travelled through the window and touched Kate’s eyelids. She was aware of sounds and movement in the room. She tried to lift her head off the pillow. Her neck was stiff and her whole body ached but she wasn’t coughing as much and the air filtered in and out of her lungs more easily. Her eyes were heavy as she tried to look around her. The room wavered in and out of focus, until the familiar sight of the dresser and the bowl that her mother had given them as a wedding present, came into view. She heard the faint singing of the kettle and the chink of cups, then the splash of water as the teapot was filled.
‘Albert?’ she whispered.
Her voice was faint but Albert heard her immediately. Ronnie heard her too and rushed to the bed. He clambered up and threw his arms around his mother.
‘Gently, son, gently,’ Albert said. But then he couldn’t stop himself from holding her too. The three of them lay on the bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, until Kate said, ‘I’m thirsty. Could I have some water?’
‘Of course. What am I thinking of?’ Albert replied. ‘I’ll get you some and there’s tea too.’
