The Quality of Love (27 page)

‘If only we knew what debts it is your mam's talking about,' he said worriedly. ‘There's something on her mind. She doesn't look at all well these days. In fact, there are times when she looks quite drawn and she's certainly very touchy and short-tempered and that's not like your mam. Something is worrying her, there's no doubt about that.'

The truth came out quite by accident. It was in the middle of March, on a cold wet blustery day and Sarah had such a heavy cold that
around midday she decided she would take the rest of the day off.

When she reached home she found her mother getting dressed ready to go out.

‘You don't want to go out in this terrible weather,' she told her. ‘What is it you need? I'll pop out and get it before I take my coat off.'

‘No, I need to go myself,' her mother told her. ‘Anyway, what are you doing home at this time of day?'

‘My cold is making it difficult to concentrate on what I'm doing so I thought I'd be better off coming home.'

‘I can't stop to make you a hot drink so make one for yourself then fill a hot water bottle and get to bed,' her mother told her.

‘You really shouldn't go out in this weather, Mam. It's blowing a gale, you'll get soaked through,' Sarah warned her.

‘I need to go so I'll wrap up and take an umbrella,' her mother insisted.

‘You won't be able to hold on to it for more than five minutes. It will blow inside out before you reach the end of the street.'

‘Well, in that case I won't bother taking one at all,' her mother snapped. She looked at the clock anxiously as she fastened the collar of her coat. ‘I must go or I shall be late.'

‘Late? How can you possibly be late when you're only going to the shops for food? For heaven's sake let me go and get whatever it is you need.'

‘You can't do it, I have to go myself, so stop interfering,' her mother said furiously.

Sarah gasped, shocked by her outburst. Her mother had never spoken to her like this in her life before. Without a word she stood to one side and let her pass.

As the front door slammed behind her Sarah couldn't help feeling guilty in case her mother was finding the arrangements for the wedding were getting too much for her.

She was still wondering where her mother was going in such a hurry as she went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. As she did so she noticed that her mother had forgotten the strong canvas bag that she always took with her when she went shopping.

With a sigh of resignation Sarah picked it up, pulled her wet coat back on, and went after her. She could see her hurrying down the street ahead of her but thought that rather than call out to her she would catch her up. Perhaps she even ought to go with her because the wind was so strong and gusty it was enough to blow her over.

To her surprise, her mother stopped at the tram stop and before she could reach her she'd already boarded a tram going towards the city centre.

Puzzled, Sarah decided to follow on the next tram. The trouble was that she had no idea where her mother could possibly be going or where she would get off. Since she would only be about
five minutes behind her there was a remote chance that she might spot her walking along the street after she left the tram.

Sarah sat with her face glued to the window as the tram she was on headed in the same direction and, to her relief, as it went along the High Street, towards St Mary's Street, she saw her mother walking along the pavement. Quickly she reached out and pulled the bell strap to request a stop and was on the platform ready to jump off the minute the tram slowed down.

She looked back up St Mary's Street in time to see her mother turning into one of the arcades and she hurried after her. She'd almost caught up with her when she saw her enter a building about halfway down the Arcade.

When she reached it she studied the window in bewilderment. It was draped with net curtains but in the centre was an ornate urn filled with very tall dried leaves and flowers and in front of it a parchment scroll. On it, in large gold lettering, was inscribed: ‘Artus Gribbling, Faith Healer'.

She read the sign twice more then shook her head in bewilderment. Her mother didn't believe in that sort of thing, so what on earth was she doing here? she wondered.

The first thought that came into her mind was that her mother was trying to earn some extra money and had come to clean the offices. Then she remembered that her mother had been
wearing her best coat and hat and so that couldn't be the answer. Anyway, it was the middle of the day so that was out of the question.

So if it wasn't for that purpose then what was it for? she wondered. She wasn't sure whether to go home and say nothing, to wait until her mother emerged and then ask her why she was there, or to march in and see what was going on.

None of these things seemed to be the right sort of action to take. There was a small café opposite so she decided to go in there and have a hot drink. She'd sit by the window and wait until she saw her mother come out again.

The moment she emerged Sarah followed her, taking care to keep out of sight until the tram came along and then she boarded it after her mother and went and sat next to her.

‘So are you going to tell me what all that was about?' she asked quietly.

Her mother looked both startled and a little shamefaced as she turned and found Sarah alongside her, but she remained silent as Sarah held out the money to the conductor for the two of them.

‘I wish you hadn't followed me, Sarah; I didn't want you or your dad to know what I was doing,' Lorna said quietly.

‘No, you made that pretty obvious from the way you said you were going out shopping and then scuttled off as if the devil himself was on your heels.'

‘I was late for my appointment,' Lorna said, her mouth tightening into a grim line.

‘What appointment? What on earth are you doing making an appointment to see a faith healer? I thought you were dead against such things.'

Again a stubborn look came over her mother's face and she didn't answer.

‘You'd better tell me,' Sarah insisted. ‘I won't let it rest until you do. If you don't tell me right now what it is all about then I shall tell Dad and ask him to talk to you and find out.'

‘No, no, you mustn't do that,' her mother begged. She laid her hand beseechingly on Sarah's arm. ‘Don't go saying a word to him, promise me now?'

‘It depends on what you tell me,' Sarah told her. ‘Am I right in thinking this has something to do with all the worrying you've been doing over paying bills?'

‘Yes, it has in a way,' her mother admitted, staring out of the window and refusing to look at Sarah.

‘Please, Mam, I need to know what's going on,' Sarah persisted.

‘Yes, I know you do,' her mother sighed. ‘Look, I'll explain everything when we get home; not here on the tram,' she promised.

Sarah and her mother were both drenched by the time they reached home and Lorna insisted that the first thing they did was to change into dry clothes.

‘I'll just put the kettle on,' she told Sarah, ‘and then it will be boiling by the time we've got out of our wet things.'

‘Yes, and while we sit down and have a cup of tea together, you can tell me what's going on and why you were visiting a faith healer today,' Sarah told her.

Sarah was changed first and had made the tea by the time her mother came downstairs.

‘Well?' she asked as she poured it out and handed her mother a cup.

Lorna concentrated on putting two spoonfuls of sugar into her tea and stirring it very slowly, staring down into the cup all the time she was doing so.

‘I'm waiting,' Sarah said impatiently. ‘Come on, you did promise, Mam.'

‘Yes, I know I did,' her mother sighed. ‘I'm wondering if I ought to wait until your dad comes home and then tell you both or whether it would be best to keep it between ourselves.'

‘If you told me what it's all about then I might be able to give you an answer to that,' Sarah commented solemnly.

Her mother took a sip of her tea then put the cup down quickly and dabbed at her mouth. ‘That was far too hot,' she said, reaching for the milk jug.

‘Mam,' Sarah leaned across the table and took one of her hands, ‘I need to know why you were visiting a faith healer; a man who is known to be a quack.'

‘You shouldn't say that, Sarah, he's done me far more good than our own doctor has. He's offered me hope.'

‘I think you'd better tell me more, don't you?' she told her mother.

Sarah felt panic rising inside her as she waited for her mother to continue. What on earth was she talking about? She knew that her mother hadn't been looking too well but what was it she had she been to see the doctor about in the first place? she wondered. It obviously had something to do with why she was short of money.

‘Go on, then, tell me what's wrong,' she pressed as her mother remained silent.

‘I've had a lump in my side and this terrible pain,' her mother confessed. ‘I put up with it for a couple of months and then it became so bad that I went to see the doctor.'

‘What did he say it was?' Again, Sarah had to press her to speak because it was almost as if her mother didn't want to tell her.

‘He said it was a growth that was pressing on some of my internal organs and that was why I had this terrible pain. He said it was cancer and that I had left it too late to do anything about it.'

‘Oh, Mam! This is dreadful! Why on earth didn't you tell me, and not go through all that on your own?' Sarah gasped. ‘So this is why you went to see a faith healer?'

‘Yes,' her mother nodded her head, sniffing back her tears.

With tears in her own eyes Sarah got up and put her arms round her mother, hugging her close. ‘What did he tell you?' she asked in a shaky voice.

‘He confirmed what the doctor had said about it being a growth but he said not to worry because he could cure it. He gave me some red ointment that I had to apply every morning and a bottle of some sort of herbal concoction to take twice a day.'

‘And has either of them done you any good?' Sarah asked in a cynical voice.

‘I thought at first they were making me feel better but lately I'm not so sure. The lump feels bigger and the skin where I have to rub the ointment in is all puckered and blistered and very tender, almost as if it has been scalded.'

‘What about the medicine? Is that doing you any good at all?'

Lorna sighed unhappily. ‘It makes me feel so dizzy that sometimes I'm not sure what I'm
doing or where I am and that makes me so miserable that I want to scream.'

‘Is this one of the reasons why you're finding it hard to make ends meet, because you are spending so much money on these treatments?' Sarah probed.

‘Yes, cariad. I was doing it for the best, though,' her mother added hurriedly. ‘I was so frightened when the doctor said it couldn't be cured and then this man gave me hope.'

‘Who told you about him? Not the doctor, I'm sure.'

‘I saw a piece in the newspaper telling what he'd done. He was a miner and he developed a growth on his arm from some infection he picked up down the pit. Well, his dad had been a farmer and had taught him a lot about herbs and what they could do, so he treated his own arm and it cleared up in next to no time. After that all his fellow miners were asking for lotions and potions to cure all their ailments and he was so successful that he decided to leave the mine and set up a practice here in Cardiff.'

‘Well, he may know how to cure some things when they are on the outside but curing internal illnesses is quite different, now isn't it?' Sarah pointed out.

‘Yes, but that's what this herbal concoction was for and herbs are something a lot of country folk are knowledgeable about. There's nothing new about it; people have been using herbs to
cure their ailments for centuries. Every wild flower and plant has some medicinal property if you know what it is and how to apply it.'

‘Yes, I know, Mam, but I've heard of such people as the one you went to see and they are regarded as quacks and very expensive ones at that. They latch on to sick people with all sorts of promises of a cure. They tell them they must go on taking the concoctions they've made up for them and keep them coming back again and again.'

‘These herbal people do know what they're on about,' her mother insisted. ‘There was a chap called Nicholas Culpepper who lived on the outskirts of London way back in the Middle Ages and who had a special garden given over entirely to herbs. He was known everywhere for his skill in prescribing the right herbs and curing whatever illness people had.'

‘Has this man told you what is in the concoction he's prescribing for you?'

Lorna chewed on her lower lip. ‘He did tell me what was in the bottle but it meant nothing; something about the extracts from the roots of Burdock, Berberis and several other herbs. I'd never heard of them and I can't remember what the others were.'

‘What about the ointment? Was that supposed to be made from herbs as well?'

‘Yes, that has bloodroot, zinc, hemlock and saffron in it. He also gave me a carbolic smoke ball to use.'

‘What on earth were you supposed to do with that?' Sarah asked in alarm.

‘I'm not sure because I didn't use it. The smell was horrible and I threw it out as soon as I got home,' her mother admitted. ‘I was afraid that if you or your dad got a whiff of it you'd want to know what it was.'

‘Are you going to tell Dad all this?' Sarah asked as she poured out another cup of tea for her mother.

‘Not quite all of it. I suppose I ought to tell him why I've been so short of money.'

‘Yes, I think you should, because he's been very concerned. In the past you've always been able to manage with the housekeeping money perfectly well. How much has it been costing you to go and see this man every week?'