A Broken Family (8 page)

‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I’m upset about Winnie, and that long walk almost knocked me out. Now please, I’ve got to get up at the crack of dawn and need some sleep.’

Mollified, Stan said, ‘All right, love,’ and as his wife turned away from him he threw an arm around her waist, nestling close to her back.

Stan could tell by her breathing that Phyllis was soon asleep, while he remained awake, his thoughts turning. He wasn’t going to stand for Amy having a dig at him. Phyllis had never complained about the money he gave her and thinking back, he realised that things had been fine until she started looking after Winnie. It had worn her out, and though it wasn’t a nice way to look at it, he was relieved that the old girl had passed away. Things could get back to normal and Phyllis would be able to cope with her cleaning jobs.

As usual, when Amy got up at six thirty on Friday morning her mother was still at work. She had to make her dad’s breakfast, and with only one egg left she decided to fry it. He came down ten minutes later to find her in the kitchen, just about to pour boiling water into the teapot. She offered him no greeting, and instead went on to spread margarine on a couple of slices of toast.

He went back to the living room where soon after Amy took his breakfast through, still saying nothing as she turned to walk away.

‘Sit down, Amy,’ he commanded sternly.

Amy could guess what was coming and her heart began to thump. Her father was rarely angry, with her, or anyone else, but she had spoken out last night and he was obviously still annoyed. Well she was too, and she wasn’t sorry for what she had said. Defiantly she replied, ‘I’m going to get my bowl of cereal and then I’ll sit down.’

‘Fine, do that,’ he snapped.

Amy poured some cornflakes, but with only a little sugar in the bowl she left it for her mum and just added a little milk. She then carried it to the table and sat down, waiting for what was to come.

‘Right, my girl, from what you said last night, you seem to think it’s my fault that your mother had to walk home from the hospital. Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ she agreed.

‘Well let’s get a few things straight …’

Amy listened as her father spoke. All right, he may not have known that her mother didn’t have the fare home, but he still had money for beer on a Thursday night while her mother was broke. It gave Amy the courage to speak. ‘Mum’s worn out. Instead of going to the pub nearly every night, you should give her a bit more housekeeping money and then she could give up at least one of her jobs.’

His face suffused with anger and he snapped, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Your mum’s been doing too much because she chose to look after Winnie. It’s got nothing to do with money.’

‘But if she could just give up one of her jobs …’

‘That’s enough!’ he thundered.

Amy had never seen her father in such a temper. She lowered her head, saying no more, and found that her throat was so constricted with nerves that she couldn’t eat. She picked up her bowl and went back to the kitchen, relieved when shortly after she heard the front door slam as her dad left for work.

When Phyllis finished her early morning cleaning job, she arrived home and found as usual that her daughter was just about to leave for the shoe shop. Amy smiled weakly, but Phyllis could tell that it was forced and concerned, she asked, ‘What’s the matter?’

For a moment Amy hesitated, but then she blurted out, ‘I’ve upset Dad.’

‘How did you manage to do that?’

‘I told him that instead of going to the pub, he should give you more housekeeping money.’

Her mother’s small frame seemed to stretch as angrily she said, ‘I won’t have you speaking to your father like that. You have no idea what he puts up with. He came home from the war wounded, feeling less than a man, reduced to doing a job he hates for low wages, and though his leg still gives him pain, he never complains.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Amy said, sounding contrite.

‘That’s because he always puts on a cheerful front. As for him going to the pub, it’s his only pleasure and I’m not complaining, so you …’

A knock on the door interrupted Phyllis, along with Carol’s voice shouting through the letterbox, ‘Amy! Amy, are you ready for work?’

‘Go on, just go,’ Phyllis snapped.

Amy looked stricken, about to say something, but instead she grabbed her coat and hurried out.

No sooner had her daughter left than Phyllis sat down, rubbing both hands over her face. She shouldn’t have lost her temper, not when this was all her fault; Amy falling out with her father because she thought Stan kept her short of money. It wasn’t true. With what he gave her, plus Amy’s keep and her cleaning jobs, she’d managed fine until she’d taken on looking after Winnie. She had been worried about Winnie’s frailty and ensured that she gave her a good breakfast, a nourishing lunch with fresh fruit, along with plenty of meat on her plate for dinner.

Everything had been fine, Phyllis realised, until she’d fainted. Amy had spoken out in her concern for her, and as a now-familiar wave of exhaustion washed over her, Phyllis knew that she couldn’t go on like this. It was time to see the doctor.

‘It’s only me,’ Mabel called as she came in through the back door and into the living room. ‘I collared Stan when he left for work, and though he didn’t seem in the best of moods, he told me about Winnie.’

Phyllis wasn’t in the mood for talking, but there’d be no getting rid of Mabel until she heard the whole story. ‘Yes, she passed away soon after we arrived at the hospital.’

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Winnie looked as though she was gone before the ambulance turned up.’

Phyllis voiced her feelings. ‘I should have seen earlier that something was wrong. By the time I did it was too late.’

‘Don’t be daft. You told me yourself that Winnie’s been going downhill for some time now. If you ask me it was more old age than illness, her heart giving out or something like that.’

Mabel’s words made sense, and Phyllis clung to them as she said, ‘They wanted to know about Winnie’s next of kin so I told them what I could about Susan. It wasn’t much. I didn’t know her full address, but with her married name and the area she lives in, I expect they’ll find her.’

Mabel tossed her head, saying in disgust, ‘Susan didn’t do anything for her mother, but when she’s told I bet she’ll be down here like a shot to see what she can get her hands on.’

‘Winnie hasn’t got much. Her furniture is old and worn, and I think she only had her bit of pension.’

‘Well then, Susan will probably have to pay for her mother’s funeral,’ Mabel said, smiling with satisfaction.

Phyllis glanced at the clock and said, ‘Mabel, I’m sorry, but can we talk later? I’ve decided to see the doctor and I want to get there before the waiting room fills up.’

‘Is it to do with that fainting spell you had?’

‘Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s anything to worry about. I just thought I should get it checked out.’

Mabel rose to her feet. ‘Right then, I’ll be off, but let me know how you get on.’

Phyllis agreed, and in case the doctor wanted to examine her, as soon as Mabel left she went upstairs to have a wash.

Celia Frost was still angry. Thomas had gone out for over two hours last night and returned looking cold and tired. He’d gone straight to bed, while Celia had been left fuming. If he now had a setback it would be Amy Miller’s fault. She should have seen that Thomas wasn’t fully recovered and sent him home, but no, the girl had kept him out walking in the cold for far too long.

She had looked in on Thomas at eight o’clock that morning, and seeing that he was asleep had quietly closed the door again. That had been an hour ago, so she decided to check on him again. If he was awake, she’d prepare his breakfast.

However, just then Celia heard footsteps coming downstairs, then Thomas walked into the room, saying cheerily, ‘Morning, Mum.’

‘Thomas, you should have stayed in bed. I was about to make your breakfast and bring it up to you.’

‘There’s no need. I’m all right now; fit enough for work if I hadn’t overslept.’

‘Don’t be silly. Work can wait until you’re fully recovered.’

‘I’ve had enough time off, and though Dad hasn’t said anything, I know he’s busy.’

‘He can manage, and if you rest over the weekend you may be well enough on Monday.’

‘I’m fine now, and I’m seeing Amy again tonight.’

‘I don’t think that’s wise,’ she said, thinking quickly. ‘You were over-tired when you came home last night. If you really want to return to work on Monday you must stay in and take it easy until then.’

‘There’s no need for that, Mum. I told you I’m fine so please stop fussing.’

Celia thought Thomas sounded just like his father and annoyed she said, ‘When you’re ill, it’s me who has to look after you, running up and down stairs, wearing myself out to cater for your every need. You don’t call it fussing then.’

Thomas blinked, looked surprised by her outburst, but then said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am.’

‘Then don’t accuse me of fussing when I’m just trying to make sure you don’t do too much before you’re fully recovered.’

‘I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m sorry,’ Thomas said, apologising again.

Mollified, Celia said, ‘You’re forgiven, but I don’t want you to go out on Saturday night. I’ve invited the Willards to dinner and as Melissa is coming too, it would be nice for her to have someone of her own age to talk to.’

‘I’d rather go out with Amy.’

‘You’ll have seen Amy for two nights by then, and as I’ve already told Melissa that you’ll be here, it would look very rude if you went out.’

‘You could invite Amy too.’

Celia was appalled and made an excuse. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. It would upset the numbers, and the dining table only seats six.’

‘But …’

‘Thomas,’ Celia interrupted, doing her best to look upset, ‘I’m really looking forward to this dinner party, so please don’t ruin it for me.’

‘Oh, all right. I suppose I can see Amy on Sunday.’

‘Thank you, darling. Now, what would you like for breakfast?’

‘A boiled egg would be nice.’

Celia went through to the kitchen, smiling that she had got her own way.

At eleven o’clock, Phyllis at last took her turn to see the doctor. There had been quite a lot of people in front of her when she’d arrived, and at first she’d been tempted to leave, but the walk to the surgery had worn her out so she’d sunk gratefully onto an empty seat.

‘How are you, Mrs Miller?’ the doctor asked, indicating a chair to the side of his desk while taking out her scant notes.

Phyllis wasn’t surprised that there was little for him to read. She was rarely ill and couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Dr Trent. ‘I’m not feeling too well. I fainted recently, and I feel tired all the time.’

‘Have you any other symptoms, shortness of breath, chest pains?’

‘No, nothing like that.’

He leaned forward to pull down her lower eyelid and then said, ‘You may be anaemic. Take off your coat and top please. I’ll examine your chest.’

Phyllis felt embarrassed, but did as Dr Trent asked. When she was ready he turned to look at her and frowned. ‘You look severely underweight. Have you got a cough and if so, have you coughed up any blood?’

Startled, Phyllis wondered if he thought she had tuberculosis. Her voice trembled as she replied, ‘I haven’t got a cough, so no.’

Nevertheless he put his stethoscope to his ears and moved round to her back, telling her to breathe in and out naturally. He did the same at the front, removed the stethoscope and then pinched the skin on her forearm between his finger and thumb. ‘Get dressed and sit down again, Mrs Miller.’

Phyllis found her hands shaking so much that she had difficulty fastening her buttons. Tuberculosis, no please, not that, she inwardly prayed.

At last she was dressed and as she sat down again Dr Trent said, ‘Your chest is clear, but you’re anaemic and from what I can see, severely undernourished.’

‘I … I haven’t got TB?’

‘No, Mrs Miller, we can rule that out. However, I’m concerned about your weight. Have you got a problem with your digestion, pain when you eat?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Any vomiting or diarrhoea?’

Once again Phyllis said no, and Dr Trent leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment, before saying, ‘Mrs Miller, are you actually eating anything?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

‘Well, clearly not enough,’ he said. ‘You look like you’ve been deliberately starving yourself. That isn’t the case is it?’

‘Of course it isn’t,’ she said indignantly.

‘Is it that you can’t afford to eat properly?’

‘Well, I must admit I’ve been a bit short lately, but things have changed and I’ll have a bit more money now.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, because continued undernourishment can lead to serious problems,’ he said, before scribbling out a prescription. ‘Take these pills for your anaemia and come back in a month. By which time I want to see that you’ve put on weight. ’

‘Yes, doctor,’ Phyllis said, feeling a huge sense of relief as she left the surgery to walk home. Deep down she’d been worried about her tiredness, had thought she had something seriously wrong with her, but it was just lack of proper food and anaemia. She would only tell Stan and Amy about the anaemia and say that the pills would soon put her right. Her daughter could stop worrying, and tonight she’d try to be the peacemaker between Amy and her father.

‘Amy, cheer up,’ Carol said at work during a quick break mid-morning. ‘All right, you fell out with your dad, and your mum had a go at you, but it’s not the end of the world. They dote on you so all you’ve got to do is apologise when you get home and it’ll be over and done with.’

‘I hope so,’ Amy said.

‘Is your mum in a state about Winnie Morrison?’ Carol asked. ‘Come to that, are you?’

‘It was awful to see her like that, and I was at first, but I’m all right now. She was a nice old lady, but I didn’t really have that much to do with her. Mum was really upset though and now I’ve gone and made things worse.’