Mother’s Ruin by Kitty Neale

woe betide you, my girl, if you leave the front of the house.’
    ‘Yippee!’ Angel yelled as she made to run outside, coming to an abrupt halt when Sally grabbed her.
    ‘Put your coat on,’ she demanded. A scarf was then tucked around her daughter’s neck, followed by a bobble hat, and when she was wrapped up to Sally’s satisfaction she let her go, watching as Angel grabbed her skipping rope before flying out of the door.
    ‘You mollycoddle that child,’ Sadie said.
    ‘It’s freezing outside.’
    ‘Blimey, when I was a kid we were lucky if we had shoes on our feet, let alone hats and scarves.’ ‘Yes, well, that was a long time ago. I don’t want Angel to catch a cold.’
    ‘See, mollycoddling her,’ Sadie murmured.
    Sally closed her eyes in exasperation, but kept her mouth shut. She had learned that it was pointless to contradict her grandmother.
    It was an hour before Sally called Angel inside, her mind elsewhere as she ignored her daughter’s protests. Dinner would be ready soon and there was still no sign of Arthur. She glanced along the lane, hoping to see his car, and then decided to ring Elsie to see if he was still in Wimbledon.
    When they had first moved back to Candle Lane Arthur had insisted on paying to have a telephone installed, and now she thankfully reached for the receiver. It was a luxury few other families in the lane had, but one that acted as a lifeline should Sadie be taken ill again.
    Sally replaced the receiver, frowning. Elsie said that Arthur had left them at twelve-thirty, so where was he? Her frown then turned to an expression of annoyance. Had he gone off to see his friend again? If so he could have at least rung to let her know. God, he drove her mad sometimes. There was a knock on the door, and composing herself she opened it, her complexion paling when she saw a police constable on the doorstep.
    He didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to tell her, she just knew. Something awful had happened to Arthur! The hall spun, strange pinpricks of light floated before her eyes, and then her knees caved under her.
    Sally became aware that the policeman had prevented her from falling, his arms holding her up, but she felt light-headed. The kitchen door then opened, Angel appearing on the threshold, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.
    ‘Nanny, Nanny, there’s a policeman!’
    ‘What’s going on?’ Ruth cried.
    ‘She took one look at me and her legs went,’ the constable told her.
    With the man’s help, Sally was able to stagger to a chair, her heart thumping. She had been living in dread; feared something awful was going to happen, but not this, not Arthur!
    For a moment the policeman just looked at her, but then he cleared his throat. ‘Are you Mrs Jones?’
    ‘Ye . . . yes,’ Sally croaked.
    ‘I’m afraid your husband has been injured in a traffic accident.’
    ‘Oh no, no! Arthur’s been hurt? How . . . how badly?’
    ‘He’s been taken to hospital, but I’m afraid I don’t know the extent of his injuries.’
    Sally sprang to her feet. ‘What hospital has he been taken to?’
    Sally sat by Arthur’s side, thankful that the news hadn’t been worse, thankful that he was still alive, yet worried too that he was still unconscious.
    ‘Why won’t he wake up, Sally?’ asked Elsie who had rushed over to the hospital as soon as she’d heard the news.
    ‘I don’t know, but I wish the doctor would get a move on.’
    ‘Surely it shouldn’t take this long to look at Arthur’s X-ray results,’ Elsie complained, both looking up expectantly as the curtains drew back.
    It wasn’t the doctor; it was Bert, his face grey. ‘Hasn’t Arthur come round yet?’
    ‘No,’ Elsie told him. ‘And if that bloody doctor doesn’t come back soon, I’ll find him myself.’
    ‘I wish I could get out of here. I hate hospitals,’ Bert growled.
    Elsie said crossly, ‘Look, I know you’ve got a phobia about them, but that’s our son lying there.’
    ‘Yes, sorry, love.