Christmas At Thrush Green (18 page)

‘Of course,’ replied Dimity. She’d do anything for her old friend.

Frank looked round for Jeremy so he could fetch Dimity’s coat, but there was no sign of the boy and Dimity said it would be much quicker to pop upstairs to find it herself. A couple of minutes later, she walked into the familiar kitchen in Ella’s house that she had shared with her friend for many years, and was horrified to find Ella in floods of tears.

‘Dearest Ella, there, there,’ she cried, and put out an arm to encircle Ella, but Ella jerked away.

‘Careful, it hurts, it all hurts,’ and she burst into a fresh wave of tears.

‘I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have a nice cup of tea,’ said Dimity, who was herself very shaken by the sight of her old friend in such distress.

‘I’d rather have a ciggy, but I can’t roll them one-handed, ’ sobbed Ella.

‘There’s absolutely no point you having a cigarette,’ replied Dimity, ‘since your tears would put it out at once.’

That made Ella laugh, and then she gave a great big sniff. Dimity found a box of tissues and handed it to her. Ella grabbed a handful, wiped her wet face and then blew her nose noisily.

‘At least it’s my left wrist. Won’t make me quite so helpless. Now,’ she said to Dimity, sniffing again, ‘can I have that ciggy?’

It was her turn to laugh, a laugh that was more relief than anything else. Relief that Ella’s sense of humour hadn’t totally disappeared.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘Fell over that dratted piece of lino,’ said Ella, tilting her head and peering at the offending tile on the floor.

‘But it’s been like that for years,’ said Dimity.

‘I know, that’s what makes it so much worse,’ said Ella. Then, dropping her voice to a hoarse whisper, added, ‘It’s my eyes, Dim. They’re getting worse every day. Things I used to be able to see clearly are not much more than a blur now. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

At that moment, John Lovell walked in and took over, his calm, professional manner quickly soothing the distraught woman. He only needed a quick but gentle examination of Ella’s left wrist to confirm that it was indeed broken.

‘We’ll get you to hospital straight away and get it X-rayed. I am pretty certain it’s a Colles’ fracture, but the X-ray will tell us. Now, will you be all right to walk to the car, and I’ll take you straight up? It’ll have to be Dickie’s, of course, because there’re no X-ray facilities at Lulling’s Cottage Hospital, but with me there I’ll ensure that you’re seen quickly.’

Dimity hung Ella’s sheepskin jacket carefully over her friend’s shoulders and John propelled Ella forward out of the kitchen.

The rector’s wife touched the doctor on the arm, and he turned back to her. ‘Bring her to the vicarage when she’s been plastered, and she can stay with us for a few days.’

‘I heard that,’ said Ella as she pulled open her front door. ‘I’ll only come if I’m allowed to smoke. No ciggies, no me!’

Dimity laughed. ‘Of course you can smoke. I’ll clear a space in the shed, and you can puff away in there.’

And with a harrumph - that Dimity recognized as Ella’s way of saying thank you - the doctor led his patient off to hospital.

I
n St Richard’s Hospital, in the nearby large town, John Lovell was as good as he’d promised, and Ella was sent for X-ray quickly, and a Colles’ fracture was confirmed. Back in the Emergency Department, the duty doctor looked at both the swollen wrist and the X-rays and pronounced that the fracture ‘could have been worse’.

‘Thanks for nothing,’ muttered Ella.

‘It means,’ the doctor said tartly, ‘that we won’t need to manipulate it before it is plastered.’ He left the cubicle to attend to another patient.

While they were waiting for the plaster to be applied, John sensed that Ella was obviously very upset.

‘It’s rotten luck, Ella,’ he said. ‘I broke my arm when I was at school, and I got very frustrated at not being able to do the things I wanted to, and felt so useless. People are usually very kind, however, and you’re sure to get all sorts of offers of help.’

‘I don’t want to have to ask for help,’ Ella growled. ‘I’m used to living on my own, and I don’t want people barging in all the time offering help.’

John Lovell was used to gruff Ella and her independent ways. ‘I’m afraid you’ll definitely need a bit of help to start with, but later you’ll find ways of using your fingers. In fact, it will be good to get them moving so you don’t stiffen up too much.’

Ella turned her head away. She just didn’t want to hear the bad news.

‘Come on, Ella, cheer up. It could have been so much worse,’ John said. ‘Your friends will be only too pleased to help you. I’m afraid Ruth will be run off her feet because my brother and his family are coming for Christmas, but I’m sure Joan would, or Phil or Isobel.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Ella mumbled and then fell silent.

‘What don’t I understand? Come on, Ella,’ John said gently. ‘Tell me and I’ll see if I can help.’

Ella looked at John Lovell, then looked away again. John waited.

‘It’s my Christmas presents. I was all behind with them because of my eyes, and now with this wretched hand, I won’t be able to finish making them. I’ll have to give horrid bought ones,’ and Ella curled her lip at the word ‘bought’. ‘And someone will have to take me. It’s bad enough Christmas shopping in all those crowds for one’s own Christmas presents, but to hang around while someone else is shopping - well, no one will want to do that. And it would end up,’ she said, with a toss of her head, ‘with me shopping too quickly and buying a load of rubbish.’

‘Well, don’t give presents this year. Everyone would understand,’ John proposed.

‘Not give presents? What an awful suggestion!’ Ella was obviously scandalized at the thought, and it seemed to give her more resolve. ‘Well, if someone would take me down on Monday . . . then that would be very kind.’ She laid her good hand on John’s arm. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll find someone to take you shopping on Monday, I promise,’ said the doctor. ‘Now bring me up to date about your eyes.’

While Ella’s wrist and lower arm were being plastered, John went to telephone Dimity. The telephone rang in an empty vicarage, so he rang Tullivers.

Frank answered. ‘They left about fifteen minutes ago,’ he said. ‘But they were going via Ella’s cottage to pick up some nightclothes and other necessities. I think they’re going to offer to have her to stay over Christmas.’

‘How kind of them. She’ll kick and scream, of course, but it’s the right thing.’

‘Dimity is the one person who can make Ella see sense. How is she?’

‘Kicking and screaming!’ Both men laughed. ‘But, seriously, she’s very down but that’s to be expected. I’m sure she’ll be fine with Dimity’s TLC. Is the party still going strong? I was very sorry to have to leave it, especially since I had carefully arranged to be off-duty tonight.’

‘Most people have gone - including Ruth who said she has a busy day tomorrow. Relations or something coming to stay.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid my brother and his family have invited themselves for Christmas and Ruth’s going to try to do some cooking in advance,’ responded John.

‘The Shoosmiths and a couple of others are staying for some lasagne. Come and join us when you’ve delivered Ella to the Henstocks.’

‘How kind, but I won’t. I’d better get back home and help Ruth. Thanks for everything, Frank, it’s been a great evening.’

‘Just before you go, John,’ said Frank hurriedly, ‘do you have any suggestions for hangovers, junior hangovers?’

‘What do you mean, junior hangovers? Do you mean just a little bit of a hangover?’

‘No, I’m afraid I mean hangovers in juniors.’

John twigged and laughed. ‘Oh dear, did young Jeremy drink too much wine?’

‘Sort of, but it’s not quite how it sounds. He and Paul were initially very helpful and then I asked them to take the empty bottles out to the dustbin, get them out of the way. And from what I can gather from Paul when we woke him up to go home, they drained each bottle. And you know what it’s like, when one’s rushed and pouring out lots of glasses, sometimes the bottle isn’t finished. We’ve counted fifteen bottles out by the dustbins, so they could’ve had quite a lot. Certainly more than they’re used to.’

‘Oh dear,’ laughed John. ‘Well, they’ve got to learn some time.’

‘We found them in Jeremy’s room, sound asleep and, would you believe it, half a bottle with them. Phil’s put Jeremy to bed, and Edward managed to get Paul to walk home. I think he was rather cross!’

‘Yes, he would be,’ said John. ‘My brother-in-law doesn’t like anyone to be out of control. Anyway, my advice is to let Jeremy sleep on in the morning.’

‘That’s what we’re planning, and then he can get stuck into the washing-up. We are leaving it all for him to do. That’ll learn him!’

 

 

When Ella woke the next morning, it took a moment to get her bearings, and then she remembered the beastly accident and her broken wrist. She didn’t know what time it was, but a little light was showing through a crack in the curtains. The radiators were popping so she guessed the central heating had just come on. She lay there, pondering how she would cope while she was so incommoded.

She shortly heard movements in the rest of the house and it wasn’t long before the door opened a bit, and Dimity’s head peered round.

‘It’s all right,’ said Ella, ‘I’m awake.’

Dimity came in, and went to draw back the curtains. ‘How are you feeling, and did you get any sleep?’

Ella cocked an eye at her old friend. ‘I hardly slept a wink, thanks.’

‘Oh dear, I’m sorry. Well, stay in bed for as long as you want. You might doze.’

‘No, I’d rather get up. I hate lying in bed doing nothing.’

Dimity sat on the side of Ella’s bed. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea, and when you’ve had that, we’ll get you dressed.’

She was about to get up off the bed when Ella stretched out her good hand to stay her. ‘Dim?’

‘Ella, yes?’

‘Dim, I’m frightened. I’ve lain awake all night, worrying. Not about this bally wrist. That’ll mend. No, about my eyes. I’ve been lying here, going through the events of yesterday evening. I tripped over that damn tile simply because I didn’t see it. I’ve never tripped over it before because I’ve always seen it and automatically stepped over it. But this time I didn’t see it.’ She paused and when she saw Dimity was about to say something, she continued quickly. ‘But at the Nativity, I realized I couldn’t see the faces properly. I heard people whispering all round me things like, “Oh, look at Annie,” or “Look at our Patrick,” but I didn’t know which child they were talking about. I couldn’t make out the detail on their faces. It was like looking at people in those magic mirrors - you know, the ones that distort images.’

Ella now fell silent, the anxious fingers of her good hand plucking at the eiderdown.

‘Oh, Ella, I’m so sorry. What a worry it must be for you,’ Dimity said.

‘What frightens me most is how long I’ll be able to go on living in the cottage. Alone. I’m afraid John Lovell will pack me off to an old folk’s home, and I’d commit suicide rather than let that happen.’

‘Ella!’ Dimity said sharply. ‘You mustn’t speak like that. It is very unChristian for one thing and . . . and . . . and . . .’

‘And what? That old people’s homes can be quite nice?’ Ella said, her mouth puckering. ‘I couldn’t go into one, Dim, I really couldn’t.’ A tear escaped down her pale cheek.

Dimity now got up from the bed. ‘We’ll think of something, Ella. And I promise you, it won’t be an old people’s home. Although I believe they can be quite nice.’

This brought a smile to Ella’s lips, and she flapped at Dimity who moved nimbly out of reach.

‘That’s better. Now I’ll go and get that cup of tea. Charles is busy all morning with services, of course, so we can have the place to ourselves and have a really good talk.’

‘Thank you, Dim. I don’t know what I would do without you.’

 

Later that morning, Isobel Shoosmith was preparing Sunday lunch. Both she and Harold had been to the 8 a.m. service in St Andrew’s and Harold was now helping Edward and Frank pack away the costumes used for the Nativity play. Isobel was, as they say, miles away when the telephone rang, startling her. She put down the sprouts she was preparing, dried her hands and hurried to answer the insistent ringing - there was nothing more annoying than reaching the telephone just as it stopped.

‘Isobel?’ came a familiar voice down the line. ‘It’s Agnes.’

‘How lovely to hear you!’ Isobel cried. ‘How are you, and Dorothy?’

‘We’re well, very well, thank you.’

Isobel missed her friend after the two schoolmistresses had retired and moved to Barton-on-Sea. They kept in regular touch by telephone, of course, but it wasn’t the same as their living next door to each other. It was unusual for Agnes to ring Isobel, however, rather than the other way round, because Agnes was very conscious that her fairly meagre pension covered far less than a half share of the expense of running the house and she never wanted Dorothy to think she was being profligate.

Isobel now said, ‘Is everything all right, Agnes?’

‘Yes, of course. Things are getting busy in the lead-up to Christmas, needless to say. We’re going to our church’s carol service this afternoon, which will be nice. Have you had the Nativity play yet?’

Isobel regaled her with some of the previous evening’s happenings, and was pleased to hear Agnes laugh at the other end of the line. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss.

‘Are you spending Christmas quietly at home, or is Dorothy splashing out and taking you both to the Ritz?’

Agnes laughed. ‘Heavens, no - although that would be very nice! No, we’re spending it here, of course, but there’s quite a lot going on. Each year there seems to be more. I suppose it’s as we get to know more people and, you know, one thing leads to another. Snowballs.’