A Song in the Night (21 page)

Cassie was suddenly nervous. “Go
on …
”

Beth covered her face with trembling hands. For a moment she was unable to continue. Then she spoke in a low, small voice. “It’s spread, Mum. They found it too late. It’s incurable. I only have a few months at the most.”

Cassie stared blankly at her, her mind at first uncomprehending. Then Beth’s words began to penetrate like ice-cold needles. She took one of the small, fragile hands in her own. “Oh Beth.
Beth
… .” Her voice was a broken whisper. “Oh God, no. No, please –”

Beth began to sob uncontrollably. “It’s my fault, all my fault. I knew there was something wrong. It’s all my fault.” She flopped forward, her whole body convulsed with anguish. Cassie caught her and cradled her, and the two of them wept together.

“You should have had someone with you. Why on earth didn’t you say anything?” The thought of Beth receiving the news on her own tore into Cassie’s heart.

“I just thought – I thought it might be easier,” Beth stammered between sobs. “I don’t even know what I was expecting to hear. I think perhaps –” She was struggling to articulate. “I – I guess I imagined they’d be able to do something to make it better.”

Cassie held onto her, her own hot tears stinging her eyes. Suddenly Beth was a little child again. Somewhere in a rambling North Yorkshire garden she cried out, and Cassie was beside her in an instant. Grazed knees and dirty hands; whatever the problem, somehow Cassie had always been able to make it better. Now as she watched her daughter’s distress, a terrifying realisation broke upon her mind. This time, she was completely helpless.

____________

Rosie had been on a course all day. She was fast coming to the conclusion that the more courses she went on, the less she found herself wanting to do the job. Now it was six o’clock and she’d only just arrived home. The course tutor had been passionate about her subject. Not one of these
let’s-see-if-we-can-finish-early
types. Oh no. She’d rattled on ad nauseam and overshot the estimated finishing time by forty minutes. It had put Rosie in a lousy mood. She really had to start thinking about a career move. For a few minutes she toyed with the idea of visiting Beth, but eventually decided against it. Ciaran would go straight from work, and Beth’s parents were down in London so they’d no doubt be visiting. No, she’d give it a miss tonight. She went to her room to check something out. One of the girls from work was throwing a makeup party. Rosie had promised to look on her planner to see if she was free. It had been a stalling tactic. She hated things like that. But it seemed only decent to check anyway and come up with an excuse later. Perhaps she could wangle a date with Gavin for that night.

Mel came in shortly afterwards. She was seeing Dan later that evening and wanted to have a long soak. “How’s it going with Gavin?” she asked as the bath was running.

Rosie was deliberately noncommittal. “Good. We’re getting on fine.” She didn’t mention Christmas. That would make Mel unbearable.

“You seeing him tonight?” Mel called out from the bathroom.

“No, we’ve not arranged anything. Besides, when I’ve had a bite to eat I want to get a bit more of Beth’s diary typed up.”

“Oh, that old thing!” There was a giggle from the bathroom.

Yes,
thought Rosie,
that old thing. But I don’t suppose you can get your dizzy little head round something like that, can you?

____________

Lozenge Wood October 1st 1916

Here we are, Em, bivouacked in this delightful sounding place. Due to move on again tomorrow. Tired, tired, tired. Been doing all the usual stuff, lugging around ammo and supplies, shoring up trenches etc., but quite a few of us are suffering from heavy colds, and the temptation to dream of home comforts is overwhelming at times. Watching Wilf mourning his pal, I find myself thinking of Harry. I’ve heard nothing about him. I’ve no idea if he’s living or dead. But somehow I think I coped better than Wilf is doing …

Wilf was in an awful state these days. He hardly seemed to know where he was. Losing his friend had made him nervy and agitated, nothing like the excitable youngster he’d been at first. His big adventure had blown up in his face.

It wasn’t as if he was the first one to lose a mate. The only way to not lose friends out here was to not have friends in the first place. No; losing mates was a part of life. You just had to accept it and get on with things. But, Sam reflected, everyone was different. Some men, usually the more sensitive types, seemed to find things harder to handle than others. But a man couldn’t very well change his nature, could he?

You met every kind of chap out here. The officers were in a class of their own of course. But even then, there were good officers and there were brutes. Fortunately Sam had only come across a couple of the latter. Most of the officers were decent fellows who didn’t expect their subordinates to do anything they weren’t prepared to do themselves. Sam hadn’t crossed paths with any of the funk wallahs that other lads talked about.

As for the ordinary men in the ranks, they were a real mixed bunch. There were the young hotheads who wanted to blow the Hun into the sky and who took the most terrible risks at times. Then there were the older, quieter men who spent their spare moments writing letters home or gazing at photographs of their wives and children. And of course, there were the comedians who somehow managed to turn everything into a joke. Sam smiled to himself. The humour could get a bit black out here. He’d met hopeful men and cynical men, sensitive men and hard men, generous men and selfish men. But whatever kind of a man one happened to be, Sam had come to the conclusion that it all came down to one thing in this game. You were either alive or you were dead. Simple as that …

At the end of the day, Em, we’re just the PBI; the ‘poor bloody infantry’ as they call us. Whether we happen to be a builder or a baker, a poet or an errand boy, there’s no difference between us. We all bleed the same, our flesh is the same soft flesh. Not one of us can catch a lump of shrapnel and not be ripped to pieces – and that doesn’t matter whether you’re a Tommy or a German. You’ll have seen enough of that to know what I mean, Em. Pardon my misery today!

Better go, officer’s shouting up ahead. Don’t want field punishment for writing seditious material, do I?

____________

A banging at the front door startled Rosie. When she opened it, Ciaran practically fell inside. His hair was damp and dishevelled and his coat spattered with raindrops.

“Didn’t realise it was raining.” Rosie held the door ajar and looked out into the night. On closing it, she turned round to see Ciaran slumped against the wall in the passageway. The sudden sight of his drawn, grey face alarmed her.

“
Kitch?
What’s the matter? You look terrible …”

Ciaran said nothing. His head had dropped forward, and for a few moments Rosie was unable to see his expression. She noticed, however, that he seemed to grind his fingers into the grooved Artex, his agitated movements causing his knuckles to whiten. Suddenly, without warning, he gave a low, strange moan which began quietly but became gradually louder and, to Rosie’s ears, more terrifying.

Panic gripped her. She took him by the shoulder and started to shake him. Her heart was thumping wildly. “Kitch! Come on! What on earth’s up with you?”

The moan became a howl, like that of a wounded animal, and Rosie felt an instinctive pull to get him to safety – whatever that might mean. She was relieved to find that he offered no resistance as she began to propel him towards her room. When she had managed to get him into a chair, she stood back watching him. Seemingly unaware of her presence, he made anguished rocking movements, gripping his wet coat around him as he continued to wail. Rosie had never seen anything quite like it. At first, everything inside her longed to storm in and put an end to his torment. Yet the longer she watched him, the more she wanted to get out of the room. She had to collect her thoughts, brace herself. Something was badly wrong and shortly he would tell her. But right away, she needed caffeine.

She went back to the room five minutes later to find Ciaran hunched forward with his hands covering his face. He was whimpering softly like a small child, and the sound of it caused Rosie’s throat to tighten into a lump.

“Coffee for you, Kitch.” She spoke gently, afraid of adding to his distress.

At last he looked up. His eyes were swollen and his face puffy and blotched. He glanced at her hopelessly as fresh tears began to spill down his cheeks. “She’s dying, Ros.”

Rosie’s heart lurched. “What d’you mean?”

“They can’t treat her. It’s too far gone.” A sob caught him then. He shook his head repeatedly as though it tortured him to say it. “They told her this morning. They can’t operate – just make her comfortable – give her stuff for pain – sickness –
until
–” He stammered the words, all the time twisting his hands and rocking gently in his chair.

Rosie sat in horrified silence. This did not compute. Where was the girl who planned to take the world by storm with her wonderful music? People like Beth didn’t die. They were too full of life, too alive to die. Rosie breathed out slowly. There must be some way of changing this. They couldn’t just sit back and let it happen. Surely there was something they could do. But as she looked at the wild grief in her brother’s eyes and saw the desolation in his countenance, she felt sick. Ciaran had always been her hero, but it seemed that even he couldn’t sort this one out.

His face contorted in distress. “I’m losing her, Ros. My beautiful Bethy. I’m losing her forever … .” His voice trailed off into an inaudible whisper.

Rosie swallowed hard. Her throat felt like it was packed with marbles.

____________

It was just after eleven o’clock. Ed Simmons lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Cassie sat by the window, hunched over in a small rattan chair, her face expressionless. They were staying in the spare room at Beth and Ciaran’s home, but neither of them was ready for sleep. Cassie hadn’t even closed the curtains. Somehow the familiar sound of passing cars punctuating the night stillness was a welcome distraction from the gathering storm in her head. Outside, the cold winter air had left a sprinkling of frost on the pavements and the road glistened silver under the street lamps. Cassie shivered.

“Can’t believe it,” Ed mumbled for the hundredth time since that afternoon. “I can’t believe it.”

Cassie didn’t reply. She’d had the job of breaking the news to her husband on her return from the hospital. Beth had asked that they let Ciaran visit on his own that evening so that she could break the news to him. Cassie got up from her chair and walked over to the bed. She lay down next to Ed and reached for his hand. “I hope that boy’s alright.”

“Wonder where he’s got to,” Ed said quietly. “It’s late enough.”

“He’ll have gone round to Rosie’s I should think. Poor thing.” Cassie’s eyes filled up. This was pain she’d never known before.

“How come they haven’t picked up on it before now, d’you suppose?” Ed’s face was a picture of misery and bewilderment.

Cassie shrugged sadly. “She’s kept quiet about things. Today she admitted to me that she’s been vomiting for a while. She went to a pharmacy some weeks back and got something for nausea and stomach upset.” Cassie remembered Beth’s distraught face that afternoon as she’d related the chain of events. It went through her. “She didn’t pick up on the blood thing. I don’t think she realised what it was. She’d even started to imagine she was pregnant, bless her.” Cassie swallowed. “With the concert almost upon her, she put all her concentration on that. She was hoping the symptoms might clear up once the pressure was off.”

Ed turned over onto his side. “I always thought our Beth had more sense. I mean, what can be more important than your health, Cass?”

Cassie touched his face gently. “She’d no idea it was anything like this, love. At twenty-four you think you’re going to live forever. Don’t you remember?”

Ed’s eyes misted. “It’s not right, Cass. Here I am an old man; she’s just a little girl. None of it’s right. I wish it was me.”

Cassie rubbed the back of his hand. “Don’t, Ed. Don’t talk like that.” But deep down inside, she had found herself wishing she could swap places with her daughter from the moment Beth had broken the news to her. “We must look to God now. Either he gives us a miracle
or
–” Her voice faltered. “Or he gives us strength to bear the pain. One or the other.”

Ed nodded slowly. “Whatever happens, Cass, we must pray that she’s ready.”

____________

Beth was rummaging in one of the drawers of her bedside cabinet. It was hard to rummage quietly at two o’clock in the morning, but the singsong snoring of the woman in the next bed assured her that she wasn’t being too disruptive. There must be one in here. There
had
to be. Still, she hadn’t noticed one when she’d put her stuff in just days earlier. A wave of frustration swept over her. And then a sense of panic. She was going to die. How could a person live with that thought and stay sane? She flopped back onto the bed, tears pricking her eyes. At that moment, soft footsteps padded across the room and Beth saw the figure of a young nurse standing by her bedside.

“Are you alright, Beth?” The voice was gentle, half-whispered. “Were you looking for something?”

For a few seconds Beth hesitated. She didn’t recognise the nurse; the night staff had just changed rota. Should she tell her? For a brief moment, embarrassment silenced her. Then she shook herself. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose now. “I was looking to see if there was one of those Gideon Bible things. I thought they normally had them in hospitals.”

The nurse arched her eyebrows. “I’m afraid we don’t have any on this wing at the moment. They were all removed during recent refurbishment. Nobody’s got round to putting them back yet.”

Beth closed her eyes as she tried to swallow the new wave of panic that was threatening to choke her. She felt trapped and hopeless. They didn’t even have a Bible, for crying out loud. What sort of lousy place was this? A sickening sense of despair swirled round her head and she began to cry.