His Pretend Wife

‘She’s passed the first milestone successfully, and you’ll do better by her if you keep your own strength up. There’s an all-night canteen on the top floor. Go and eat. I don’t want you fainting under my feet.’

Having barked at her, he strode out, leaving her with only an impression of how exhausted he’d looked after being up all night, and the day was only just starting.

She didn’t know if he managed to grab a nap somewhere, but he looked in at about four-hour intervals after that, and was there when Hetta finally opened her eyes.

‘’Lo, Mummy.’

‘Hallo, darling.’ But Hetta’s eyes had already closed again. ‘Darling,’ she repeated urgently.

‘Leave her,’ Andrew said. ‘That’s as good as you can hope for now.’

He left. After another hour Hetta stirred again. This time she looked at her mother, smiled and fell back to sleep. The day wore on. It was late afternoon before Hetta awoke properly.

‘’Lo, Mummy,’ she said again, but this time she sounded brighter.

Elinor slipped to the floor so that her face should be closer to Hetta’s.

‘Darling, welcome back.’

‘Have I been away?’

‘Yes, but you’re back now, thank God.’

Hetta looked around her anxiously. ‘Where’s Samson?’

‘He’s here,’ Elinor said, lifting him to within her view. ‘You were cuddling him.’

‘But that’s not Samson,’ Hetta protested.

‘It is, darling.’

‘It isn’t, it isn’t.’ Hetta was becoming distressed. A nurse anxiously tried to soothe her, but tears began to roll down Hetta’s face. Elinor’s attempts to reassure her only made the child cry bitterly. This was the worst possible thing for her wounded chest, and Elinor looked around wildly, desperate for help.

‘Hey, what’s all this?’ Andrew said, appearing out of the blue, it seemed to Elinor.

‘I want Samson,’ Hetta wept. ‘You promised.’

‘And I always keep my promises,’ Andrew said, lounging by her bed, apparently at ease, although his skin was the colour of parchment and there were black shadows under his eyes. ‘Samson’s been with you all the time-well, almost all. You see, while we were making you as good as new, we thought we’d do the same for him. So we tidied him up and gave him a bath, which he badly needed.’

Hetta’s eyes were on him, and she’d stopped crying. ‘He doesn’t like being bathed,’ she said.

‘So I gather. His language was frightful. It made the nurses blush.’

Hetta giggled.

‘But it’s still Samson,’ Andrew said. ‘You can see by that little tear in his ear.’

‘That was Daisy’s cat,’ Hetta whispered.

‘Uh-huh! I gather it was quite a fight. So you see, it’s Samson all right, so why don’t you just tuck him up against you-like that-and-?’

Hetta was already asleep.

‘That’s wonderful,’ Elinor said. ‘How did you ever-?’

‘One moment, please, Mrs Landers. Nurse-’

He became deep in discussion with the nurse for several minutes, and when he’d finished the moment had passed. Elinor had turned back to Hetta, watching her with loving, obsessive eyes, and Andrew slipped away quietly without disturbing her.

For the first week Elinor barely left Hetta. When she needed sleep there was a side room with basic beds, where she would snatch a nap before hurrying back.

At first she watched her with incredulous delight, hardly able to believe that this delicate little creature had survived such a massive onslaught.

Yet Hetta’s frailty was increasingly an illusion. For the first time in two years she had a strong heart, working normally. For days she was woozy and sometimes confused from the massive anaesthetic, but the signs of improvement were coming fast, and already her colour was better.

‘She’s our star patient,’ said the nurse in Intensive Care. ‘She took over her own breathing at the first possible moment, and since then she’s done everything right on time.’

And Elinor was feeling cheerful enough to smile and say, ‘I’ll swear it’s the first time in her life she’s done what anyone wanted without argument.’

Hetta giggled. ‘I’m a devil, aren’t I, Mummy?’

‘I thought you were asleep, you cheeky little madam.’

As she came off the machines she was moved into a larger ward, where there were other children, and promptly brightened life with a feud with a little boy in the next bed. Elinor began returning to the boarding house to sleep. Gradually she found she could leave Hetta without worrying if she would still be alive on her return.

Best of all, Hetta’s wicked sense of humour had returned, and she liked nothing so much as to tease her mother. The long wound in her chest, so terrifying to Elinor, filled the child with ghoulish pride.

‘Isn’t it great?’ she demanded when the dressing had been removed and Andrew was examining the dark red line.

‘If you like that kind of thing,’ Elinor said faintly.

‘But we do, don’t we?’ Andrew said to Hetta.

‘Yes, we do,’ Hetta said firmly. ‘Honestly, Mummy, it was a great big electric saw-’

‘What?’

‘That’s how we get through the breastbone to find the heart,’ Andrew explained. ‘You can’t do this operation by playing peek-a-boo through the ribs.’

Hetta giggled and she and Andrew exchanged the glances of conspirators. It wasn’t lost on Elinor that the nurse, standing deferentially behind him, was staring at him with astonishment.

As he walked out she followed him quickly. ‘What do you mean by talking like that with a child?’ she demanded.

‘She loves it. It’s adults who are squeamish, not children.’ The friendly ease he’d shown the child was gone, and he was tense again. ‘Good day, Mrs Landers.’

Elinor had to admit that he was right. Hetta was having the time of her life. In no time she’d become the leader of the children’s ward, in the heart of any anarchy that was going. To Elinor it was a joy to see her being occasionally naughty. It was so long since she’d had the energy.

Between her and Andrew there had developed a perfect understanding, and she called him Andrew, with his encouragement. To the little girl he wasn’t the figure of awe he presented to his staff. He was the friend who’d understood about Samson, and would understand anything she said to him. So to him she confided her nightmares. He listened, nodding in perfect comprehension. Elinor came upon them one day in time to hear him say, ‘Do the rocks ever actually fall on you, or does it just look as if they might?’

‘I keep thinking they’re going to, but I wake up first.’

‘Well, it’s only the anaesthetic-you know that, don’t you?’

‘After all this time?’

‘Do you know how much we had to give you to knock you out for a process as big as this?’

‘How much?’ she demanded, fascinated.

He made a wide gesture with his hands. ‘This much.’

‘Wow!’

‘So you don’t get rid of it all at once. It works its way out gradually, and it gives you funny thoughts and dreams. But that’s all it is. So the next time you see those rocks, just tell them you’re not scared of them, because they’re not real.’

Hetta nodded, reassured.

‘Why didn’t she tell me she’s having nightmares?’ Elinor demanded of Andrew outside the ward.

‘Because she knows you’ve been through a lot and she’s protecting you from any more.’

‘She told you that?’

‘She didn’t have to. Don’t you realise that she’s looking after you as much as you’re looking after her? She’s very like you in many ways.’

Then something seemed to occur to him, and he bid her goodnight. He often did that when their paths crossed,