‘You’re very lucky,’ said Nurse Gwen when Daisy showed her the letter. ‘I haven’t got a brother, but if I did, I would want one just like yours.’
‘I wonder if the surprise is they’re getting married?’ wondered Daisy. ‘I’d like to be a bridesmaid.’
‘What a romantic occasion,’ sighed Nurse Gwen wistfully.
‘I hope the blitz is over by then.’
Nurse Gwen’s expression saddened. ’Our boys in the air are brave but it’s just as hard for those left at home. Still, Matt has a special reason to stay safe - to visit his little sister.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ Daisy said from where she sat on her chair beside the bed. ‘How long will I be in hospital?’
‘Patience is a virtue they say,’ smiled the young woman. ‘After a serious injury like yours, your recuperation may take time.’
‘What does rec - recop - ‘
‘Recuperation means getting better. Even if your body is almost back to being its old self, your mind may be slower in catching up. When patients fall into delirium, we have to monitor them closely for some time afterwards.’
‘Will I have a delirium again?’
‘There’s no reason why you should.’ Nurse Gwen squeezed her hand. ‘We’re going to see to it that you’re as fit as a flea when you leave us. Though I’m not certain whether fleas are fit at all. But they certainly jump about.’
Daisy giggled. If there was one person she would miss from hospital, it was her dear friend Nurse Gwen who always brought a smile to her lips.
T o while away the long hours, Daisy escaped to the rest room where she joined several others who sat quietly in the comfortable chairs. From this vantage point she could see through the glass door to the window of her ward opposite. Some patients read newspapers or books piled on the table and some discussed the nightly raids and the worry they had for their families. Daisy too worried about Mother and Bobby. Pops was probably the safest of them all, hidden away in a very secret place. She tried to remember the name of his invention which sounded a bit like thermometer. But if she concentrated too hard, her head began to hurt. It was difficult even, to read a book. Her concentration wandered and it was easier just to sit and listen to the hum of conversation.
Just then, in burst a mischievous looking little boy of about six or seven, a newcomer to the children’s ward. He had a cheeky smile and a mop of untidy black hair. His legs were extremely bowed and one of them was bandaged up. Daisy recognized him as a recent addition to the children’s ward.
The selection of newspapers on the small table caught his eye and very soon, despite the adults’ protests, they were strewn over the floor in complete disarray. One by one the patients departed and Daisy was left alone with the troublemaker.
‘See how strong I am?’ he said to Daisy as he trampled on a newspaper.
Daisy couldn’t resist a giggle. ‘Yes, you are strong. And what a mess!’
‘I ain’t gonna pick ‘em up either.’
‘Nor am I,’ replied Daisy with a shrug. ‘I think they look better on the floor.’
He came and sat beside her. ‘Ain’t you gonna bash me?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Me brover does.’
‘How old is your brother?’
‘Dunno. But he’s bigger than you.’
‘I’m not very big.’
The little boy laughed. ‘Girls are daft.’
Daisy laughed too. ‘They are sometimes.’
‘You’ve got a bash on the ‘ead, ain’t you?’
Daisy nodded. ‘Yes, but the doctors and nurses are making it better. Just like they’ll make your leg better too.’
‘Me mum says I might die.’
‘I’m sure you won’t.’ Daisy felt very sorry for the child. If what he said was to be believed, he had a very unsympathetic family.
‘She says lots of people die in the ‘ospital. But you ain’t died yet, have you?’
Daisy tried to keep a straight face. ‘No, I’m still quite alive.’
‘You talk funny too.’
Before Daisy could reply the door flew open. ‘Tommy, what are you doing in here?’ a nurse demanded. ‘You’ve been told to stay in your bed.’
‘We were just talking,’ Daisy said and began to pick up the newspapers. ‘Tommy was helping me to tidy up.’
The nurse looked doubtfully at Daisy, then marched Tommy off. Daisy restored order to the room, folding the newspapers into a neat pile on the table. Eventually she returned to the ward, where Tommy was sitting in his bed, sulking, as the nurse hovered close by.
T he following afternoon, Daisy saw Tommy wriggle from his bed and try to escape once more. Some of the other children called a warning and one of the nurses sped after him. Daisy smiled, expecting Tommy to be captured as he had been the previous day.
Unexpectedly, a loud bellow echoed from the corridor. Very soon Tommy appeared, weeping and scarlet-cheeked. A tall, sturdily-built woman grasped him by his ear and dragged him along.
Daisy gasped when she recognised Tommy’s mother. Mrs Brady - Peter Brady’s mother - hoisted her young son on his bed and slapped his bottom.
The agonized cry brought Sister hurrying along, but Tommy’s mother was in no mood to listen. Daisy recalled a similar scene at school when Mrs Brady had sent Mr Potter flying and how Mr Gulliver had ordered the class into the assembly hall for the rest of the lesson.
‘Mrs Brady!’ barked Dr Deacon as he strode into the ward. ‘Please come to my office.’
Moments later, the screen was drawn around a distraught Tommy and the ward returned to a peaceful calm once more.
When Nurse Gwen came on duty, Daisy asked how her little friend was.
‘I shouldn’t say but Tommy needs an operation,’ Nurse Gwen told her confidentially. ’Malnourishment has caused his bone disease, leaving him with a deformed leg.’
‘Will his leg get better?’
‘Yes, if he has his operation. But there’s very little we can do without the parents’ cooperation. They seem to think he’s just seeking attention.’
Though Daisy didn’t reveal what she
