‘He’s a psychiatrist, Bill. Only mad people talk to psychiatrists. I’m not mad, am I?’
‘No, you silly goose. Sorry I--’ They both laughed. ‘Of course you’re not mad, Margot. You’ve become dependent on pills and you’ve been drinking too much--’
‘But I’m not--’
‘Shush darling, let me finish. You became dependent on the tablets you were given to stop the pain in your ankle. You weren’t able to sleep so you were given sleeping pills by the private quack you went to.’
‘I know. Then he gave me pills to get me up in the morning. I told him I didn’t want to take more pills, honestly I did.’ Bill put his arms around her and rocked her gently. ‘I shouldn’t have taken all those pills – and I shouldn’t have been drinking with them.’ Margot looked up into Bill’s eyes and took a shuddering breath. ‘I’ll see the doctor-- psychiatrist. I’ll see anyone and do anything not to feel like this,’ she cried.
Bill held her until she fell asleep. Then he laid her down, put a blanket over her, and went to see her doctor.
Dr Thurlingham looked from Bill to Margot. ‘Do you feel ready to face the outside world, Margot?’
‘Yes,’ she said, taking Bill’s hand.
‘I would have liked you to stay with us for another couple of weeks.’
‘You told me a couple of weeks when you brought me here and that was two months ago. Besides--’ Margot looked up at Bill, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
‘Besides what, sweetheart?’
Margot bit her bottom lip. ‘Bernard Rudman sent a bouquet and a get well card.’ Bill looked around the room. ‘They’re not here. I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it, so I put them in the communal sitting room. He’s written to me several times, asking when I’m coming back. He said my spot at The Talk was waiting for me when I’m ready. And he’s asked me to top the bill in cabaret, on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve.’
A black cloud took Bill’s smile and his face turned scarlet. Exasperated, he snatched his hand away from Margot’s. ‘I should damn well leave you here!’ he shouted. ‘You’re your own worst enemy.’
‘It’s only once a week for an hour. That’s not too much, is it?’
Bill threw his arms up in the air. ‘Do as you like, Margot, I’m past caring.’ He shook the doctor’s hand. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for her.’ He picked up Margot’s suitcase.
‘You’re welcome, Mr Burrell. And if there’s anything I can do in the future, don’t hesitate to get in touch. And you, madam,’ he said, turning to Margot. ‘No more pills and plenty of rest.’
‘I will. Bill will make sure of that,’ she said. ‘We’ll see you when I come back for my check-up, won’t we--’ Margot turned, expecting Bill to be waiting for her, but he had gone. ‘Better dash,’ she said, shaking the doctor’s hand. ‘When he realises I’m not with him, he’ll worry.’
Margot walked along the main corridor, glancing down narrow passageways, but she couldn’t see Bill. In the foyer she spotted him standing outside the main doors. ‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ she said, taking her small vanity case from him and slipping her hand into his. ‘Come on, it’s too cold to hang about out here.’
Bill led Margot to a waiting taxi and after stowing the suitcase, sat opposite her. Making herself comfortable on the back seat, she looked out of the window. As the cab pulled into the traffic, she sighed. There were reminders of the war everywhere. The cab slowed in advance of a sign saying DETOUR and Margot looked up at a badly damaged building that had once been a hotel. It had been shored up, but loomed dangerously above a crater in the road. As the cab sat in traffic, Margot watched an army bomb disposal team lift the bomb out of the hole with a crane. For a moment it hung in the air threatening to fall. Her head began to throb. She crossed the narrow space between the seats and sat next to Bill. With her head on his shoulder, Margot cuddled up to the man she loved.
The following morning, Margot opened her eyes, stretched her legs and sighed contentedly. Tears of happiness spilled onto her pillow. She was home – and she was safe. Soft pastel green wallpaper instead of stark white walls and bedroom furniture instead of a solitary chair, which was all they allowed her in the clinic, met her sleepy gaze. She smiled through her tears. When they first moved into the apartment, Margot dragged Bill all over London looking for pretty bedroom furniture. They had ended up with what she called a boring utility suite. Looking at it now, it was the most beautiful furniture she had ever seen.
Still glowing with love, Margot reached up and pulled Bill’s pillow towards her. She buried her head in it and, breathing slowly, rhythmically, closed her eyes. Bill hadn’t said a word in the taxi on the way home from the clinic. She could feel his anger. But as soon as they were home, he took Margot to bed and made love to her, pleasuring her, and then waiting for her, so they reached a loving climax together. Exhausted, they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Margot felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach. She wanted Bill again. She inhaled deeply, suppressed the need, and slipped from between the sheets. She put on her dressing gown, brushed her hair and thanked God for her life – and for her wonderful husband. Things would be back to normal now Bill was home.
‘Bill?’ A small fire burned in the grate and the table was laid for breakfast, but Bill wasn’t there. Margot touched the teapot. It was still warm. She took a slice of toast from the rack
