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Snippets from the Village Boy Universe complete 02-06-06 p3

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The CBB -> Ste Therese's House

#1: Snippets from the Village Boy Universe complete 02-06-06 p3 Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Mon May 22, 2006 7:02 pm
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As these never managed to get archived, I've been asked to post them again. This first one was originally a 'Bedtime Drabble'.

A Seaside Romance

A shadow fell across the rock pool and the young girl, gazing intently at the creatures busily scuttling round, looked up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said quickly. “I recognised you from the boarding house and just came across to introduce myself. We seem to be the only young people there.”

The girl stood up, smiling, and the boy noticed that her dark wavy hair caught the sun with a reddish tint. She was very pretty, about sixteen he guessed but with an air of maturity which made her seem nearer his own age.

He had not had very much to do with girls so far and was a little shy but the boredom of this quiet seaside resort, where he was staying with his Grandma, had overcome his shyness. He could only watch birds for part of the time after all. He had noticed the girl several times in the dining room and she looked as out of place as he felt.

“Would you like to walk along the beach a little way?” he asked, a blush rising to his normally pale complexion.

She thought he looked nice, tall and with a shock of fair hair. “That would be nice. I must be back for tea, though or there will be a fuss. My Great Uncle thinks the proprieties are so important! ”

They walked along the edge of the water talking about themselves, the subject being of intense interest for the young. When they returned to the boarding house, they arranged to meet again the next day, after lunch..

Days passed and she learned of his ambitions to be a doctor which looked to be thwarted by a lack of money for the training and he learned of her twin brother and younger sister and the responsibility she felt.

On the last day, they went for one last walk and, somehow he found himself holding her hand. It was a lovely feeling and they walked right round the headland into the next bay.

They paused to look up at the view and she looked up at him and smiled. His heart gave a little jump and, greatly daring, he bent his head to her and kissed her gently on the lips.

She looked startled but not displeased.

“May I write to you?” he asked. “I can’t bear to think I’ll never see you again.”

She looked sad and shook her head. “I’ve responsibilities I can’t shirk and I could grow too fond of you. I cannot commit myself and less would be unbearable.”

With tears in her eyes, Madge Bettany said goodbye to the young man from Lancashire.

“Trevor Entwistle, I’ll never forget you.”

But she did forget, though when she met a lanky twelve year old, many years later, in Yorkshire, he seemed vaguely familiar.

Last edited by patmac on Fri Jun 02, 2006 7:40 pm; edited 7 times in total

#2: Author: Squirrel, Location: St-Andrews or Dunfermline

Posted: Mon May 22, 2006 7:42 pm
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that's lovely Pat - I'd half forgotten it. Thanks for the repost.

#3: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Mon May 22, 2006 8:24 pm
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Lovely, Pat, I'd forgotten it too. Thank you.

#4: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Mon May 22, 2006 8:28 pm
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Ooh extra bits! Thank you Smile

#5: Author: Kat, Location: Abertawe

Posted: Mon May 22, 2006 9:44 pm
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Thank you Pat, how sweet!

#6: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 11:20 am
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Lovely to see it again - Thanks, Pat Very Happy

#7: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 1:00 pm
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Great to see this again, Pat. I love that coincidence. Very Happy

#8: Author: ibarhis, Location: London and Hemel Hempstead

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 1:11 pm
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That is really nice - I hadn't seen it before.

#9: Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!!

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 1:43 pm
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Awww thank you Pat! I'd forgotten all about that one!

#10: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 7:28 pm
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A Christmas Tale

It was cold in the choir which had no stove near it and there was a draught coming from the door to the vestry. He shivered and looked round the church. The candles shone unsteadily in the cold air and he could not recognise the faces of the villagers in the flickering light. They seemed strange, distorted, almost evil. The place was full of strangers, there was no one he knew.

Looking farther, he couldn’t see the back of the church. Like an enormous cave, it seemed to go on forever. Every now and then, the door creaked open and dark shapes appeared, creeping forward, their clogs echoing hollowly in the vast emptiness.

He shivered again and, for a moment, he wanted to get up and run away but he had nowhere to run. He had been handed over to this old woman and brought to this strange place where he would have to stay. If only Dad hadn’t …. He gulped and tried not to think about Dad. No one had mentioned him since he had come here and he wondered if everyone but himself had forgotten he had ever lived.

He was to have had his first bike this Christmas and Dad would have taken him out into the street to teach him to ride it. Like so many other things, that would never happen now.

There was a stirring as the organ, which had been playing softly, stopped and then started again more loudly as the Vicar emerged from the Vestry. Everybody stood and launched into the familiar carol, Once in Royal David’s City.

Mechanically, he sang with the others, sat down, stood again, knelt, stood, sat. Joy on earth, Good News to all men, Rejoice, Alleluia. It had nothing to do with him.

*

The grey haired woman, dressed in black, sat alone near the back of the church. This was the first time she had been in here since the funeral when she had decided that if God could be so cruel as to take Bert, she would have nothing more to do with Him. Ten years ago that had been.

Now there was the boy to consider. He had to be brought up right and that meant Sunday School. Now he was in the choir and she had to come tonight or he might have been disappointed. Not that he said anything. He was too quiet that one. He’d not mentioned his father since he came to Garnham. She didn’t think she knew him any better now than that day in Garnley when she’d collected him from the Market Square and brought him home with his pitiful bundle of belongings.

She shivered. It was dark in here, too dark. It was like a tomb. For a moment, she felt panicked as the walls closed in and wanted to run out of the place, then she saw the Vicar coming out of the vestry and the organ struck up the first carol and it was too late. She sang, sat down, stood again, knelt, stood, sat. She watched the boy as he followed the lead of the others, his face unchanging.

Then some trick of the light, changed the contours of his face and she saw that it was not indifference he showed but a mask to hide the hurt. They were kneeling now. A time for private prayer, the Vicar had said, exhorting them to pray from the heart. She bowed her head with the rest and, despite her tightly closed eyes, she could still see his thin face.

She, who had not prayed for ten years stumbled through the barrier of her own pain to a make a plea.

“If You are there, help me to help the lad. I can’t do this on my own.”

Now the Vicar was speaking again.

“Lord hear our prayers.”

“And let our cry come unto Thee.” Came the murmured response.

The boy looked out again across the congregation and a subtle change had come over them. They no longer looked distorted and he could see that there were smiles on their faces as they stood to sing the final carol. Searching among them his eyes suddenly saw Auntie, sitting near the back and smiling as she sang with the rest. He caught her eye and smiled in return.

She waited for him outside the church and he came out, pulling up the collar of his coat and looking for her. He grinned as he saw her and came running over.

“Let’s get home.” She said as she put her arm round his shoulder. “It looks like snow. Are you tired?”

He shook his head. “I was earlier but I’m not now.”

“Let’s make cocoa when we get in then and toast our toes round the range.”

They hurried across the graveyard and down the hill towards the village and then climbed up the far hill towards their cottage. As they did so, the first flakes of snow started to fall and they quickened their steps as she held the lantern high to light their way.

She made him take off his coat and change into his slippers, opened the front of the range and stirred the fire. He sat quietly on the rug while she made the cocoa. She handed him his mug and produced a ginger biscuit for him. He dunked it in his cocoa and sighed contentedly.

Fishing in her knitting bag beside her chair, she pulled out a small parcel.

“Your main present will be here in the morning but you can have this now if you like.”

He scrambled to his feet and came across the hearth and stood by her while he opened it.

Inside was simple frame with a small snapshot of a young woman laughing on a beach, her arm round the waist of a tall sandy haired man.

She looked at the boy anxiously as he stared at the picture expressionlessly. Then, as his face crumpled into tears, she gathered him into her arms and held him while the healing sobs shook him and he clutched the picture to his chest as if he would never let it go.

#11: Author: Squirrel, Location: St-Andrews or Dunfermline

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 7:42 pm
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Poor little boy. Thanks Pat.

#12: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 7:57 pm
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Oh, I'd forgotten that one - lovely. Thanks Pat.

#13: Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!!

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 10:37 pm
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*gropes for the tissues*

Thank you Pat, that was beautiful, and I'd also forgotten about it!

#14: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 12:55 am
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Thank you Pat - that was very moving.

#15: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 2:06 pm
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Thanks, Pat, so moving.

#16: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 7:22 pm
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New Bicycles

Mrs Thirtle found that having a child in the house had thrust her back into the life of the village. After Bert died, she couldn’t stand being with people. She had wrapped herself in her grief and shut out everyone. Gradually, they accepted the fact that she didn’t want them around and, after she had made a few cutting comments to people who persevered, they left her alone.

She was a familiar figure round the village, going to the shop or to catch the bus to Garnley, looking neither left or right. Although it was normal for a widow to wear black, most relieved the effect after a while with some grey but Mrs Thirtle remained in black as the years went by. That and her grim face, caused the children to call her a witch and mothers threatened their children with a visit from Mrs Thirtle if they misbehaved.

They felt sorry for the little lad who was living with her, even though he was as strange in his way as she was. His accent was foreign, as was to be expected as he came from Garnley, which was all of eight miles away and was the son of a Schoolmaster. He walked to school alone, ignoring the teasing from the other boys and, at the end of school, he walked home alone.

Mrs Thirtle, though, seemed to be thawing and she passed the time of day in the shop and asked Miss Armitage’s advice when he had a chesty cough. She had even been seen to smile.

It was four weeks before Christmas when she said Good morning to Mrs Taylor who was sweeping the pavement outside her house. She looked as if she was about to walk on and Mrs Taylor was just starting sweeping again when she stopped and turned.

“Your Joe is not much older than Reg. What are you getting him for Christmas. I’m right flummoxed about it.”

“Joe really wants a bicycle. Not that he’d say anything, mind. He knows we can’t afford much. If I could get one cheap, I would, and his Dad would do it up for him but they’re all too much money.”

“H’mm. I reckon Reg would like one too. Trouble is, I can’t see me running up and down the street teaching him to ride. Anyway, if they’re dear, I couldn’t get one for him anyway. If you don’t mind me asking, how much is a second hand bike. I’d have to get a decent one, I couldn’t do it up for him.”

They talked for a little while and struck a bargain. If Mrs Thirtle could get two cheap bicycles, Mr Taylor would do them up and teach both boys to ride.

“It would be more fun for Joe if he had someone to ride with. He doesn’t really have any friends. The boys call him thick because he’s slow.”

Mrs Thirtle gave a mirthless laugh. “And they call Reg a know all. Happen they’ll get on.”

The next day, Mrs Thirtle got on the bus and went into Garnley. She went into shops and asked if anyone had a boy’s bike to sell, cheap. She was sent on many fruitless errands to houses where the bike was either too dear or already sold. Finally, she hit on the idea of going to the garage which doubled as a smithy, there being few cars in Garnley, and asked there.

Waiting while a horse was shod, she asked if the Smith knew of any bicycles for sale suitable for young boys. The man thought for a minute. “I’ve two that came in for mending but they’d have cost too much and they were left with me. I did think I’d get one good bike from the two but I’ve never got round to it.”

He took her through to a cluttered shed, past stacks of wheels and rusty pieces of metal till he came to the bikes. They were sorry specimens for one had a cracked cross bar and one was missing a pedal. Both had obviously stood here for a long while for they were rusty and covered in dust and cobwebs. The paint was chipped and the leather saddles were cracked.

“Can they be mended?”

“Aye, but it wouldn’t be cheap.”

“How much? I don’t need the painting done but I would need them in working order.”

He thought for a moment. “When would you need them by?”

“They’re for Christmas presents so I need them in time to get them painted and polished up. Can you do them in a week?”

“Happen I could.”

“How much then?”

He thought some more. “Five pounds the pair.”

She turned to walk away. “Daylight robbery. You got them for nothing. It’s only your time you’re putting in and a pedal.”

“How much were you thinking of?”

“Three pounds the pair.”

“Four.”

“You’ll have the brakes right?”

“Aye.”

She sighed and pretended to think about it.

“You’re a hard man, but I’ll pay that if I must.”

On the way back on the bus, Mrs Thirtle thought hard about the price. Mrs Taylor didn’t really have two pounds to spare and had set the price she could afford at one pound five shillings. If Mr Taylor was going to paint them both and teach young Reg to ride, she could put the extra in, though she wouldn’t say anything. Folk had their pride and no one wanted to be thought a charity case. She did hope Reg would make friends with Joe. He was a nice steady lad and wouldn’t put ideas into Reg’s head.

She went straight round to Mrs Taylor’s cottage and knocked.

“I’ve found two bikes in Garnley at the right price. They’re in a right state and they’re being mended. One’s has a crack in the cross bar and the other has one of the pedals broke off. They were in the back of the blacksmiths and they’ve been there a long while I reckon. They’ll need a lot of work to make them look like anything. Do you think your husband could get them ready for Christmas if I get them fetched next week?”

Mrs Taylor was speechless for a minute. “Oh! He will, I’m sure. Joe will be so pleased. Thank you so much. Do you want the money now?”

“No, I didn’t pay him till he’s mended them. You can pay me next week when I get them back here. Where are we going to put them? It wouldn’t do for the boys to see them.”

“Miss Armitage will let us use her shed. Walter has made dolls cots for the little ones and they’re already in there. She never minds us using it for presents.”

Mrs Thirtle said goodbye and Mrs Taylor abandoned ironing to have a cup of tea. She did hope Joe and Reg would become friends. Reg was so bright, some of it might rub off on Joe.

#17: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 9:06 pm
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Lovely Smile

- this is such a comfort read Smile

Thanks, Pat

#18: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 9:12 pm
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Awww, so nice. Laughing

#19: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 9:14 pm
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It is lovely to see how Auntie slowly thawed out.

#20: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Thu May 25, 2006 1:09 am
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Just lovely Pat - than you.

#21: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Thu May 25, 2006 12:45 pm
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Really enjoying reading these again.

Thanks Pat.

#22: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Thu May 25, 2006 1:01 pm
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A lovely part to read again, thanks, Pat.

#23: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Thu May 25, 2006 6:24 pm
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Joe's Tale

He’d been a stocky little lad, undersize for his age but his Mam said he was tough as old boots and he never ailed. Some folk thought he was thick in the head but he could think all right. It was just the words didn’t always come out right or fast enough.

It had bothered him that everything was always such a hurry at school. By the time he’d worked out the answer, someone else had their hand up and he never got the chance. Still it didn’t really matter. School was just something you had to do till you were big enough to do real work.

He went with his Dad on Saturdays and Sundays, when he had work, and helped out. He did like the sheep. Folk said they were all the same but they must have their eyes shut if they couldn’t see the differences between them.

His dream was to live in a cottage all by himself up on the hills and look after the sheep. He did love his Mam and Dad but there were times when the little ones were just too much. They were all on top of one another in the little two bedroom cottage. At least he had his own room. His little sisters had to sleep with Mam and Dad and it was a right tight fit, even with them head to tail on a little truckle bed.

Dad couldn’t get full time work, though he was good with the animals. No one was going to take on a cripple, even though he had proved he could keep up with anyone. It didn’t seem fair. He had got upset once at some boys limping along behind his Dad and laughing at him. Dad said it didn’t matter but it did really.

*

The only real friend he had was Reg. The first term Reg came to the village, he hardly said two words to anyone. Mam said it was because his Dad had died and left him all alone till Mrs Thirtle took him in. He chuckled to himself as he remembered that he’d taken that for gospel and imagined Reg alone in a cottage with no one to look after him.

Mind, it had been nearly as bad. Reg never said much but from what he let slip, that aunt of his should have been shot. It was the bicycles they’d had for that first Christmas that brought them together. He hadn’t expected to get one for he knew they were too poor for luxuries but there it was. A shiny bike just for him.

Then Dad had said he was going to teach both Reg and him to ride as Reg had one for Christmas as well and Mrs Thirtle didn’t think she could really go up and down the street running behind a bike.

They’d gone round to Mrs Thirtle’s on Christmas morning and Reg had come out with his face one big grin. Joe hadn’t seen him smile before and he looked much nicer. Poor Dad had hobbled up and down with them till they got their balance and he’d never complained. Once they could keep their balance, he watched them and helped them up every time they fell off. Then they’d gone back to Mrs Thirtle’s and Dad had shown them how to pump their tyres up and which bits to oil to keep them running properly.

Soon they were off on their bikes every chance they got and going round at school together. They got some teasing for it of course. Reg was so tall and thin, and he was so short and broad that they must have looked right odd. Reg was clever at schoolwork as well and always top of the class whereas he was always near the bottom.

It didn’t matter though. Even when Reg went off to that posh school and he went to work at High Royd. He’d missed Reg, of course and only saw him in the holidays but they were both happier than they had been at the Village School.

*

As time went by, Reg spent less time in Garnham. He went up to Scotland to learn to be a Doctor and spent a lot of his holidays gallivanting round the country and even over to Switzerland to work at the San where the Maynards had moved. He always sent postcards, everywhere he went and wrote letters, never seeming to mind that he hardly every got a reply. Then came this out of the blue.

“Dear Joe

I have a tremendous favour to ask you. Len and I are getting married this year and I really want you to be my best man. You are my oldest friend and I can’t imagine anyone else in your place. I’m coming home next week and can talk to you properly then. It won’t be a posh affair and you already know the main people involved. In fact you’ve known Len since she was three, it seems a long while ago now doesn’t it.

Len says she would like you to be there and you’ve met her parents – remember when Doctor Jack fell in the ditch, flying a kite? The other main people would be Len’s brothers and sisters and you’ve met most of them over the years. Phoebe would like to see you again as well. Auntie has done the journey several times now and you could travel with her. Don’t say yes or no till I come home.

I’ll do the same for you someday.

Reg.”

Joe put the letter down, then put his boots on, called Jess and they went into the little yard behind his cottage. Together, the man and his dog walked up the hill to the top of the moor.

Sitting on a rock where he could see the view back over the valley, while Jess investigated the rabbit holes, he gave the matter some thought. It was a long way to go and he’d be among strangers, even though he’d known some of them all their lives.

He’d think about it some more before Reg got home. He whistled for Jess to come to heel and set off down the hill, wondering if they had sheep in Switzerland.

#24: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Fri May 26, 2006 12:36 am
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Oh, that's lovely, Patmac - Joe comes out of this so clearly.

#25: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Fri May 26, 2006 11:49 am
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More happy tears from me. Thanks, Pat.

#26: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 11:33 pm
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I love Joe - he's such a well drawn character.

Thanks Pat. Very Happy

#27: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Tue May 30, 2006 6:29 pm
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John's Tale

The School was quiet. This time last year, he and Hugh had been sitting drinking whisky and chatting comfortably. Hugh had gone to Dorothy’s parents this year, of course and next year he would be married. He was alone again. Tomorrow he would go to the Farm for Christmas dinner and all the usual people would be there and it would be homely and comforting. There would be laughter and he would feel part of life again. Tonight, though, he was alone.

John was used to being alone in the holidays. He didn’t usually mind because he was surrounded by schoolboys and staff in term time and then wished he had some peace. Christmas was different though. It was a time for family and he had none.

He poured another glass of whisky and settled by the fire with a book. After a while, the book dropped onto his lap and he dozed.

*

A boy walked into the room, looking rather resentful. He had come for coaching in Latin, which he seemed to find exceptionally difficult. John knew the boy’s history for the Head had explained the circumstances.

Roper was the rather late born son of General Roper. The older boys had sailed through school and were now rising through the Army. This lad, Julian. was a dunce and his Father had sent him here as a last resort. The Head was of the opinion that the boy was actually quite intelligent.

“There’s something there, if we can reach him. He’s been beaten and shouted at and he’s not cowed by it, just resentful. I think your approach will suit him well. He’s thirteen and he’s a lot to make up. We need to bring him up at least two years this year.”

It wasn’t an easy charge. John was inexperienced, the boy was resentful. It took three weeks for the lad to learn to trust John, but when he did, he gradually thawed and, slowly at first, he began to take an interest in his lessons.

That was the first time John realised that each boy had a key which would trigger him to want to learn. This boy’s interest was caught by the way the classical world was governed. From there he started asking questions about the social structure and wanted to understand slavery and how the Senate worked.

Soon he was borrowing books on history and became a voracious reader. Next he was poring over maps to see where the countries he was reading about actually were in the world.

His father and brothers were away fighting in the Great War and he was to stay at school for the holidays as his mother was frail. During the Christmas holidays, he haunted John with questions and they moved on from the Classical World and were soon discussing Mediaeval Europe. John found he was only one jump ahead of young Roper and that only by reading a lot of history himself.

John did a deal with him the next term. If he improved at Maths, he could have an extra session each week on history. By the Easter, he was well up with his form and went on to have coaching to bring him up to the level needed to get a double remove. By the Summer Holidays, he was ready to move up to Senior School and John was sorry to see him go.

Except that he didn’t really go. He came back to see him over the years, sometimes with troubles and sometimes in triumph. They became good friends.

So many of them came back and sat and told him about their lives and somehow reverted to the children they had been for an hour or two as he listened, nodded, asked the occasional question and then they took their decisions and thanked him for helping them to make them.

One by one, they came into the room and he saw them as he had first seen them and remembered. The latest was a lanky boy with a Yorkshire accent. Already determined to be a Doctor as his Grandfather had been, he had watched him find his feet in the school.

There was a difference now though. This time, it would be Hugh Douglas that Entwistle would return to when he needed to make a decision or wanted to share his success.

He wondered if his predecessor had watched him with the same pleasure and affection as he had for Hugh.

#28: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Tue May 30, 2006 6:40 pm
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I loved that one the first time you posted it Pat - it brings a tear to my eyes. Roper is Sir Julien isn't he?

Thanks.

#29: Author: grover, Location: Dublin

Posted: Tue May 30, 2006 7:09 pm
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I do love your writing, Pat. That was beautiful. Thank you!

#30: Author: ibarhis, Location: London and Hemel Hempstead

Posted: Tue May 30, 2006 9:01 pm
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I loved the communities that you created in two short snippets. Thank you.

#31: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Wed May 31, 2006 12:25 am
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Thank you Pat. So very moving.

#32: Author: Identity Hunt, Location: UK

Posted: Wed May 31, 2006 7:21 am
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Pat, these are absolute gems.
They tell so much about the people we have grown to love so much.
Thank you !

#33: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Wed May 31, 2006 10:52 am
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I'd forgotten that one. Thank you Pat wonderful.

#34: Author: keren, Location: Israel

Posted: Wed May 31, 2006 12:56 pm
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At the beginning it reminded me of Mr Chips

#35: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Wed May 31, 2006 7:33 pm
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Jimmy's Tale

Jimmy Canning sat silently on the seat in the train. His mother had insisted that he put his bad leg up on the seat because she knew the heavy boot would be uncomfortable hanging down on the long journey to Armiford. She pushed a pillow behind his back and he thanked her, even though he hated having a fuss made.

He opened his book and pretended to read. It was easier than talking. His parents had done enough of that for weeks now. Their family doctor had been sceptical about this new operation. He was an old man who had come out of retirement to free a younger man to serve in the war and preferred to take a conservative line on any treatment.

Fortunately, Dad had gone with them and insisted on a referral. On the way home from the Surgery, Mum had been rather quiet and for a few days it seemed that every time he came into the room, a silence fell.

Then came the day when Dad called him and explained that he wanted to know what Jimmy felt about going to the big hospital and letting the doctors there look at his leg and see if they could help.

Jimmy knew what he wanted. He wanted to get rid of this boot and have his legs the same length. It would be worth anything to do that.

Now though, they were actually on their way and it was different. They might say there was nothing they could do and that would be awful. On the other hand, they might say they could and that would be frightening. Hospitals were horrid places in his experience. He remembered being in the big Sanatorium and how his mother could only visit him for one hour on Sundays. He had been told it was for a few days and it was only when the boy in the next bed had laughed at him for believing the doctors that he realised he was trapped.

He remembered that awful day when two men in masks came and put him on a trolley and took him to a big room with a shiny light. There the big rubber mask was put on his face while two nurses held him down.

When he woke up he was sick and couldn’t move. He dosed off again and woke up to the pain. He was in the little side ward near the Sister’s Office. Some of the boys had told him that was where children went to die. He was in plaster from the waist down and in bed for months while his hip got better.

His thoughts went round in circles. He wanted to go home one minute and forget the whole trip. Then he thought of walking properly again and wanted to go on. Mum dozed off and Dad came over to crouch down beside him.

“It’s only to let them look today, Jimmy. We won’t take any decisions till you say what you want.”

Jimmy forgot all pretence at reading.

“I don’t know what I want. I do want to walk properly but it was horrid in the hospital before.”

“Let’s just wait and see. This one might be different.”

They didn’t say anymore but Dad held his hand for a while till Mum stirred and then winked at his son and returned to his seat before she opened her eyes. They had sandwiches and a flask of tea for lunch as they would not be arriving till after twelve o’clock and there would be little enough time to get to the San before their appointment.

Eventually, they arrived at Armiford and alighted with their overnight cases. They had been told they would be met at the station and a tall fair haired man came striding down the platform.

“Dr Maynard!” said Mum in surprise and once she had introduced the two men, the Doctor turned to Jimmy and shook his hand just as if he was a grown up, too.

“We’ve met before Jimmy. You won’t remember me because you were too ill. You certainly look a lot better now.”

Soon they were seated in the big car and on their way, while Dr Maynard explained that he had come into Armiford to collect some parcels so had volunteered to pick them up at the same time.

When they arrived at the hospital, Jimmy was relieved to see it was a modern building and looked clean and bright, not like the one he had been in before. Mum had told him that one used to be a workhouse before it had been a hospital.

Here and there in the grounds, he could see patients, some in wheelchairs and some on crutches or being helped along by staff, out in the sunshine. Two wings stretched from the main building, with glass doors flung open onto balconies.

Dr Maynard explained that they would be seeing Mr Wilkinson, the Head of Orthopaedics and who had pioneered the operation which could lengthen Jimmy’s leg. Taking them to a lift, he winked at Jimmy.

“I don’t get much chance to use this. It’s strictly for patients who find the stairs difficult.” Jimmy couldn’t help laughing, even though he was nervous.

They were taken to Mr Wilkinson’s office and Dr Maynard introduced them and left, promising to see them later. Then began the part Jimmy had dreaded. He was measured and poked and prodded. Questions were asked. Then he was taken to the X-ray department. Then he had blood taken for tests and just when he thought they had checked everything except his teeth, another Doctor came in and listened to his heart and asked lots more questions.

Mr Wilkinson explained that he would need to look at the X-rays and check the results of the blood tests before he could do anything else and asked a Nurse to take them to the Visitors accommodation to unpack and rest for a couple of hours.

Mrs Canning exclaimed at the flat which was in a converted cottage in the grounds. It had everything they would need, right down to a tiny kitchen complete with a small electric hotplate and there was even a supply of tea and milk waiting for them. The Nurse showed them round with pride, explaining that it had been converted with donations from grateful patients.

After she had left, they had a cup of tea and Mum insisted that Jimmy lie down for a little while. Truth to tell, he was glad of the rest as his whole body ached from the examination.

It was nearly half past four when a Porter came to fetch them to Mr Wilkinson’s office to hear the results of the tests and whether he could help.

All three walked back to the main building in silence and stood nervously outside the office for a moment before Mr Canning knocked on the door.

A nurse came to the door and opened it, smiling. “Mr and Mrs Canning, if you would like to go in first. Jimmy, you come with me. You’ll get your chance to hear everything in a few minutes. In the meantime, let me show you some of the Wards.”

Jimmy’s parents went in and sat down. Mr Wilkinson looked at them for a moment, seriously.

“We can definitely help Jimmy.” He began. “But it won’t be easy for him or for you. His left leg is five inches shorter than the right one and we can only increase the length by about half an inch each six weeks or so. That means seven or eight months in bed with his leg in traction to be sure that the bone is as strong as it can be. Then there will be another three months while he learns to walk again. The good news is that we can straighten the spine, at least to some degree at the same time. If you’d left it another couple of years, we might not have been able to. His heart is strong but he is a little thin. We’d like to have him come in a month before we operate, partly so we can rest him and supervise his diet. Carrying that boot around and trying to keep up with his friends is probably keeping his weight low. There’s only one proviso.”

He paused and they looked at him expectantly.

“Jimmy himself must decide he wants to go through with it and understand exactly what is involved. We’ve found children react to what is going on better if they know why we are doing things.”

Jimmy’s parents looked at one another, his mother with tears in her eyes and there was a pause before she took a deep breath and turned to the Surgeon.

“If he wants it, we do too.”

“Good. I’ll want to see Jimmy on his own and everything I’m going to tell you now, I’ll be telling him as well.”

He stood up and switched on a light behind a screen on the wall and put several X-rays in front of it and explained exactly what he intended to do.

*

Mr and Mrs Canning left the office rather overcome and were met by a short man, wearing a white coat. “I’m Dr Peters and I’ve come to take you to wait for Jimmy.” He said with a sympathetic smile. “Dr Maynard is busy at the moment and he asked me because I know Polgarth.”

He went on to explain that his nephew was at that school and that he knew it well, all the while guiding them along the corridor to his own office. Once they were seated, he rang for coffee and sat on a chair opposite the settee where, Jimmy’s parents were sitting, Mrs Canning now white and shaking, leaning against her husband whose eyes were suspiciously bright.

“I can’t tell you anything about the procedures that Jimmy will have – if he decides he wants it, after he’s heard all about it, of course – it’s not my field. I can tell you that Mr Wilkinson is the best there is. If he says it can be done, then it can.

I know it seems hard but everyone here will do their best for him and for you. We already know something of Jimmy from when he had scarlet fever and we’ve heard more of him from another boy at the school. He’s older than Jimmy but he wants to be a Doctor and wanted to know what was wrong with him and, in his innocence, suggested we should just walk in and claim him as a patient!. I don’t know if Jimmy has mentioned him. His name is Reg Entwistle.”

“I think I know the name, though he’s older, isn’t he?”

Dr Peters nodded. “He’s fifteen. Let me tell you a little more of how we work here. Firstly, we do welcome parents to visit whenever they can. I know it’s against general practice in hospitals but we find that, far from unsettling the children, it helps. The Visitor accommodation is usually reserved for people who have very sick relatives as patients or for visits when an operation is due. There is a hotel nearby and Mrs Maynard has offered to put you up for visits in between. She would have done that tonight but she has a large family and visitors staying. She will call in to see you tomorrow morning, though.

Secondly, we have a school in the hospital and they will talk to Polgarth and arrange for work to be sent down so he loses as little learning as possible. We’ll do the best we can but he may well not stay up with his form and have to do another year. From what Reg says, he’s a year ahead of his age now so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

A knock at the door heralded a Maid with a tray of coffee and they were left to their own thoughts.

*

Jimmy was surprised to see that his parents were not in the room when he was brought back to the Surgeon’s office. Mr Wilkinson was quick to explain that he wanted to be sure that Jimmy understood exactly what was entailed and to be sure that he realised what lay ahead and made his own decision.

He started off by showing Jimmy his own X-rays and explaining just what the problem was. Then he took them down and produced some more, which he snapped up onto the screen and then explained.

Jimmy felt a little sick when he saw the first one. It showed a thigh with two metal pins going right through and a gap in the bone between them where it had been broken. Then he saw the next one, which showed bone growing in the gap, the next one showed the gap widened again. By now he was fascinated and, losing his shyness, limped across to look more closely.

When they had looked at the whole sequence, they went back to the desk and Mr Wilkinson showed him one of the metal pins which would be inserted and explained how the traction worked to keep tension on the leg. Then he explained how they would loosen some ligaments in his back to allow the spine to straighten and then put him in plaster to hold the back straight till the ligaments healed.

“How much will it hurt?” Jimmy asked.

“For a few days after the operation, we’ll keep you sedated. After that, it’s more discomfort than anything. We can keep it from getting too bad. It will seem a long time though. You’ll be in bed with your leg strung up in the air for around seven months. It could be longer. That’s the worst bit.”

Jimmy thought for a minute. “How sure are you it will work?”

“Almost 100%. There’s a risk in all operations because of the anaesthetic but, that aside, I’m quite sure we can get your leg to within one inch of the other. That might mean a slightly raised shoe but nothing like the boot you wear at the moment.”

After taking a deep breath, Jimmy stuck out his hand. Bewildered, the Surgeon took it and Jimmy shook it firmly. “It’s a deal.”

#36: Author: M, Location: Winchester

Posted: Wed May 31, 2006 10:47 pm
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This is such a poignant tale, but great.

#37: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 1:38 am
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I love the way that Jimmy was seen as the important person in this - there's such an emphasis on him understanding what's happening, and taking his own decision.

Thanks Pat

#38: Author: Karry, Location: Stoke on Trent

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 9:05 am
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Lovely, Pat! Thank you

#39: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 11:25 am
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Lovely, Pat. It's so moving to read it again. Please make sure these outtakes are put in the Indedex so I can go back and read them again, and again, and again.

#40: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 12:26 pm
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*hugs Jimmy*

Thanks Pat.

#41: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 7:39 pm
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This is the last of the previously posted 'snippets'. I think I have a problem, though. When I was checking over the one about Jimmy, I was trying desperately to remember which CS book he was in Shocked

Then I remembered he wasn't 'real' - and finally realised that the CS isn't 'real' anyway (sorry to shock folk Wink

)

There will be some more as the bunny nibbles.

The Sodger's Tale

Father spoke to God.

Every morning, the household gathered for prayers, even the servants, and bowed their heads as Father spoke to God for the whole family. No one else could do it. She knew this because when Father was away, Mother read the prayers he had written out for her.

It wasn’t the same when Mother read them. She sounded hesitant and not quite sure that God was listening. She stumbled over the long words and there was shuffling among the servants that never happened when Father was there.

Best of all was when Father spoke to God in the Cathedral. It was a frightening place, because it was so big and it made an echo every time someone coughed. Perhaps God didn’t like coughs. Father said the Cathedral was God’s House. God must be very big to need such a big house. When he spoke to God in the Cathedral, Father’s voice boomed even more than it did at home.

God had to be big. He saw everything. He even saw her when she made a fuss about eating cabbage. Father said so. Father could make that right. He beseeched the Almighty God to forgive all their sins and he did it with such assurance that she sighed with relief each week as her sins were forgiven.

Dominic and Aloysius would learn to talk to God as well. They were going to be Priests like Father and only came home for holidays. She had asked Father once if she could be a Priest, too, and he had explained that only men could be Priests. Girls grew up to become wives of the clergy and looked after the house and the children and their husbands so the men could give all their time to God and convert the heathen.

‘Heathen’ was not a word she had met before so she asked him what it meant. It was a bit complicated but it seemed to mean black savages and
the Lower Orders. She hadn’t wanted to ask him any more because he was so busy and important so she asked Mother. Mother said that Lower Orders were poor people like the servants and not all of them had a chance to be in a household with a CANON to pray for them. Lots of them were not Christians and she could help by praying for them. After that, she added the Lower Orders to her prayers each night, just before the cat and the dog.

Father sent Nanny away when she was seven and she cried but Father made her kneel down and ask forgiveness of God for her selfishness. Nanny was needed by some other little girl and she was big enough to share the Governess with Faith and Hope. Miss Palmer was much stricter than Nanny, though and didn’t understand that she needed to run out in the garden and play.

The days were long, now. She had to learn to write and read and do sums. She didn’t mind that so much but deportment and piano lessons were hard. Eventually, Miss Palmer complained to Father and he called her into his study.

Father never got angry. He seemed to know how difficult it could be to be good. She supposed he understood that from his experience of the Lower Orders. She knelt as he prayed for her that she would learn to be good and not listen to the devil and then he explained how she needed to be an example to the heathen who did not know how to behave as God required of a girl in such fortunate circumstances.

For a few months, she tried really hard to be good but then the devil made her restless again and Miss Palmer told Father that she was not being a good girl.

This time, Father realised that she was on the road to Hell and, before he prayed for her, he told her about the torments of Hell, which would be all the worse for her as she had had every chance, being brought up in a God fearing household.

Then he prayed over her while she knelt on the bare wooden boards, with her eyes closed and her hands folded. It seemed to go on for a long while. Her knees hurt and she began to feel dizzy for she had had no breakfast.

That night she dreamt she had gone to Hell and woke up crying and burning up with the heat. She was scared to go back to sleep again and got out of bed and knelt down to pray that she wouldn’t go to Hell. She was tired and confused and her muddled prayers were to her Father, who could talk to God and would surely save her.

All that night she burned and, when Faith got out of bed in the morning, she looked at her little sister and went running for Miss Palmer. Miss Palmer looked at her and ran to Mother’s room. Mother came and set Miss Palmer to sponging her face while she went for Father.

When she saw Father, she held out her hand and cried “Save me Father. Talk to God for me.” The Doctor was called and gave her a cooling draught and she saw his white beard and thought he was God, come at her Father’s bidding to save her.

Slowly she got better and after that she was always good and quiet. Dominic went to be a chaplain in the Boer War the next year. Then he was killed in the fighting and Mother became very quiet and lay on the sofa each afternoon.

The next thing she remembered was Faith sitting in the Parlour with Mother, talking to a young man who was the Reverend Faulkner. There was a period of a few months when Faith and Hope would stop talking when she appeared and she knew that it had to do with Mr Faulkner.

She had a new white dress for the wedding and her hair was tied in rags the night before so it hung in ringlets. She hadn’t realised that getting married meant that Faith wouldn’t live at home any more but she went off in a carriage with Mr Faulkner and when they got home, Faith’s bed had been stripped and all her things had gone.

Mother said that all girls went to live with their husbands when they got married. She had said that she would never get married then for going away would be terrible. Mother had laughed and called her a funny little thing, saying she would change her mind someday.

The next change was when Hope went away. She had heard her crying at night but she wouldn’t say what was wrong. Mother cried and seemed to become smaller. The servants seemed a bit excited and stopped talking when she appeared. She never saw her again because Hope had been wicked and couldn’t come home again.

Now she was alone with her Mother and Father because Aloysius went to be a Minister somewhere else. When she was seventeen, Mother took to her bed and she started to run the house. Father prayed for Mother but she didn’t get any better.

Actually, it was nice being in charge and looking after Father. Sometimes he would answer her questions and explain things. She took over some of the Parish Visiting. She didn’t enjoy it at first for some of the Lower Orders lived in horrid little houses that smelt of cabbage and worse. She eventually kept one coat and hat for that and had one of the maids hang it out to air each time she came home.

She asked Father why they weren’t clean and he explained that they didn’t know any better. She thought about that a bit and then asked if there was any hope for them, for they didn’t even come to Church, some of them. Would God lose patience with them. Father told her that God would never lose patience but it was part of her job as his daughter to help them. Every soul saved would please God.

In spite of the smells and the dirt, it was actually rather satisfying that they mostly treated her with deference and the women curtseyed to her and the men doffed their caps as she passed. After all she was the Daughter of THE CANON and people were beginning to recognise that.

More enjoyable were the Bishop’s Tea Parties. She attended them with Father once she turned eighteen and had her hair up. Privately, she didn’t think the Bishop was particularly impressive. He was small and round and had a rather quiet voice. He laughed a lot as if he didn’t realise that life serving God was a serious matter and that he had an important position. She thought Father would make a better Bishop. She was proud to be at Father’s side. After all, he was the most impressive of all the Clergy.

Mother died when she was twenty. She felt a bit guilty because she wasn’t really upset and, though she held a hankie to her eyes at the graveside, no tears came.

Faith came home for the funeral. She seemed a lot older and had two children. Mr Faulkner came with her and he was going grey. She had a nice little chat with Faith over tea the day after the funeral. Faith told her about the Parish and how she was running a Sunday School and she had organised concerts for the Parishioners and started a proper choir. She was very happy and the Parishioners were always grateful.

After Faith and her family went home, the house seemed quiet. Father spent more and more time in his Study and the evenings seemed long. She began to day dream of being a Vicar’s Wife like Faith. Everything here was organised by the Dean’s wife, who didn’t seem to appreciate her talents and wouldn’t allow her to do things better. If she got married, she could live in a Parish where she could do it right.

In her day dreams, she walked down a street and everyone bowed or curtseyed. All the cottages were clean and tidy. The children did not have snotty noses or dirty faces. Every Sunday, her husband, who was only a shadowy figure but she knew he was tall, like Father, would preach to a full Church and she would listen to his booming voice as the Lower Orders sat attentively.

Father would come and visit and tell her she had done well.

At last.

#42: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 7:47 pm
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When you first posted this I can remember that it made me feel sorry for and understand the Sodger - not so much a figure of fun but a sad and lonely woman with an ogre for a father.

Thanks Pat.

PS. Her name was Charity then? Laughing

#43: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:38 pm
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Lesley wrote:

PS. Her name was Charity then? Laughing

Poor soul! Yes, I think it must have been, though I wasn't conscious of that when I wrote it.

#44: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2006 12:45 am
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I remembered this too - such a sad and limited life.

Thanks Patmac

#45: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2006 1:20 pm
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I remember feeling so sorry for the poor woman.

#46: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Wed Jun 07, 2006 12:56 pm
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Can't believe I actually want to give The Sodger a hug too!

*lol* at your confusion. Am thinking the good Scotch might have to wing it's way back to you to help the old brain cells Wink

thanks Pat.

#47: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:29 pm
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Thanks, Pat! Have enjoyed a nice reread. Very Happy

#48: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 12:22 am
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Cant believe I missed these!
Great to see them again Pat Laughing

The CBB -> Ste Therese's House

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