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could feel
a strange warmth rising in her chest. Her heart was quivering just
a little when she spoke, and I recognised the hotness building
under her eyes. Anne looked quite concerned and took my mother’s
arm.
    “ He said it might not be too late.”
    Now I was concerned. Had it been too late for me already at
some point that I wasn’t aware of? And too late how exactly? Too late for what? Was
my nice old Doctor Baxendale really the idiot Bickerstaff claimed
he was? Had he handed me a sentence that I didn’t have to
serve?
    “ Well that’s wonderful!” Anne said, rubbing Mum’s arm. “Gail,
why are you so upset? Isn’t this good news?”
    “ Of course it is,” Mum answered, fishing a tissue from her bag
to dab her eyes, “He said he’s started her on a new treatment and
this Mrs Price that’s got her is going to make her to stick to it,
but-” Her voice collapsed there and her sadness overwhelmed me. It
was a heavy kind of sorrow, like her heart was tied to a brick.
“But it should be me there helping her,” she whispered, “I feel so
helpless now I’m so far away.”
It was my
turn to feel sad again, because I couldn’t tell her how close I
really was. I contented myself that a speedy reply to her letter
would have to suffice.
    “ But think of it this way,” Anne soothed, her kind face framed
with blonde strands, “The next time you see her, she could be…
well, she could be a lot fitter.”
    “ She could also be thirty the rate this war’s going,” Mum
sobbed bitterly, “I wish they’d get on and clobber the Krauts so we
can get back to normal.”
    “ But the longer she’s with that doctor, the better a chance
she’s got,” Anne reminded her.
I didn’t
agree. So far all Bickerstaff’s night splints had done were give me
bruises behind the knees and inside the elbows that Mam had to
cover up with make-up. If anything I was moving my joints even less
than before. But my mother’s high hopes for me were not unfounded,
especially if there was a way to put my real talents to good
use.
Anne soon
changed the subject of conversation to shake my mother from her
guilt, and though it pained me to have to leave her I let my mind
slip back towards Ty Gwyn until the connection was broken. When my
eyes flickered open I found I was crying. As I rifled in my pockets
to fetch a tissue my head ached terribly as it often did when I’d
been visiting Mum. Even though the little brown sitting room was
much darker than the other rooms of the house, the light streaming
in through the small windows was far too bright. I closed my eyes,
hearing my pulse in my head as the door opened gently.
    “ Oh dear,” Mam said as she rushed in from the door. She
crouched in front of my chair and helped me dry my tears, rubbing
my arms. She clearly thought I had been trying to propel myself in
the chair. “Oh Kit, love, you mustn’t strain yourself. Only do what
you can manage, eh?”
I just
nodded, feeling as though my head was about to explode. What I
could manage just wasn’t enough.
***
The whole
Price family went to chapel in the village every Sunday, which was
a strange experience for Leighton and me. We had both been
christened Church of England, but Mum and Dad were never big
chapelgoers except at Christmas and Easter. Mum always made us sit
in front of the wireless and listen to something religious on a
Sunday after breakfast, but that was a nice, peaceful affair.
Sunday after breakfast at Ty Gwyn was something else entirely.
The routine
started with Idrys arriving at eight o’clock in his best chapel
attire and complaining that Mam was never ready when she said she
would be. Mam was in her smart white chapel dress but she still had
her apron on and half a dozen rollers curled into the back of her
head. Every time she tried to go up to her room to finish getting
ready, something would interrupt her, like Ness appearing with her
socks on her hands instead of her feet, or Blodwyn storming through
the house