like being excluded from anything.
‘It’s for the patients,’ Sally felt bound to explain hastily when she saw the pained look on the older couple’s faces. ‘As you know, Mr MacIndoe believes that it is very important to get his patients as involved with normal everyday life as he can, even whilst they are still having treatment.’
‘Yes,’ the girl with the basket unexpectedly spoke up, her cut-glass accent making Dulcie bridle slightly. ‘They’ve begun to call East Grinstead “the town that doesn’t look away”.’
‘You’re visiting someone yourself?’ the young mother asked.
‘Yes. My … my brother.’
‘Well, since we’re all travelling to the same place,’ Sally said with a smile, ‘perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I’m Sally, and this is Dulcie,’ she announced promptly, extending her hand to each of the others in turn.
‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ the young mother replied. ‘I’m Joyce, and that’s William over there, and this here is Pauline.’
‘Edna and Harold Chambers,’ the male half of the elderly couple introduced them.
‘Persephone Stanton,’ the other girl included herself, in her very upper-class accent.
A faint wash of pink brightened her pale face when Dulcie demanded, ‘Persephone? What kind of a name is that?’
‘It’s Greek,’ she explained. ‘Daddy is a Greek scholar.’
Thankfully, before Dulcie could put her foot in it again, Joyce called out wearily to her little boy, ‘William, don’t keep on touching them windows. I keep telling you they’re dirty.’
‘But I like touching them,’ the little boy protested, ‘and there’s nothing else to do.’
Opening her bag, Sally delved into it for the pencil and notepad she always carried with her, tearing out a sheet of paper and handing it to the boy with the pencil and a smile as she suggested, ‘Why don’t you count how many houses you can see from the window, William?’ her kindness earning her a grateful look from Joyce, who told her in a confiding undertone, ‘He’s such a handful at the moment. He’s only at school in the mornings, see, on account of his proper school being bombed. Running wild all over the place, he is, with a gang of older boys. I’ve warned him that he’ll get himself into trouble and then where will we be? Of course I can’t say anything to his dad, not wanting to worry him.’
‘Haven’t you got any family who could help?’ Sally asked her sympathetically.
‘Not really. I’m from the north but I’ve moved down to London ’cos it’s easier to get to the hospital but I don’t really know anyone there yet.’
‘A boy that age needs a man around to teach him his manners,’ Harold Chambers announced firmly. ‘Need a bit of strong handling, young boys do.’
Seeing the stubborn look crossing the little boy’s face and the anxious guilt on his mother’s, Sally stepped in hastily, asking the first thing that came into her head in an effort to change the direction of the conversation.
‘How old is your little girl?’
‘Pauline. She’s nine months. Born in May, she was.’
May. The same time as her half-sister. Pain spiked through Sally, catching her off guard. Normally sherefused even to think about her half-sister, even to acknowledge within her own thoughts that she existed. Nine months old. That meant that she would have had nine months of love from Sally’s own father that she had had no right to have at all.
Sally shivered and turned towards the window.
‘So where are we going then?’ Tilly asked Drew, as they left the house arm in arm.
‘I’m not telling you until we get there. It’s a surprise,’ Drew insisted. ‘Oh, damn!’ he exclaimed ruefully. ‘I’ve gone and left part of your surprise on the kitchen table at Ian’s. We’ll have to call in there and get it.’
Tilly nodded.
‘I’d better check on the fire whilst we’re here,’ Drew added as he unlocked the front door to let them both into the
‘It’s for the patients,’ Sally felt bound to explain hastily when she saw the pained look on the older couple’s faces. ‘As you know, Mr MacIndoe believes that it is very important to get his patients as involved with normal everyday life as he can, even whilst they are still having treatment.’
‘Yes,’ the girl with the basket unexpectedly spoke up, her cut-glass accent making Dulcie bridle slightly. ‘They’ve begun to call East Grinstead “the town that doesn’t look away”.’
‘You’re visiting someone yourself?’ the young mother asked.
‘Yes. My … my brother.’
‘Well, since we’re all travelling to the same place,’ Sally said with a smile, ‘perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I’m Sally, and this is Dulcie,’ she announced promptly, extending her hand to each of the others in turn.
‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ the young mother replied. ‘I’m Joyce, and that’s William over there, and this here is Pauline.’
‘Edna and Harold Chambers,’ the male half of the elderly couple introduced them.
‘Persephone Stanton,’ the other girl included herself, in her very upper-class accent.
A faint wash of pink brightened her pale face when Dulcie demanded, ‘Persephone? What kind of a name is that?’
‘It’s Greek,’ she explained. ‘Daddy is a Greek scholar.’
Thankfully, before Dulcie could put her foot in it again, Joyce called out wearily to her little boy, ‘William, don’t keep on touching them windows. I keep telling you they’re dirty.’
‘But I like touching them,’ the little boy protested, ‘and there’s nothing else to do.’
Opening her bag, Sally delved into it for the pencil and notepad she always carried with her, tearing out a sheet of paper and handing it to the boy with the pencil and a smile as she suggested, ‘Why don’t you count how many houses you can see from the window, William?’ her kindness earning her a grateful look from Joyce, who told her in a confiding undertone, ‘He’s such a handful at the moment. He’s only at school in the mornings, see, on account of his proper school being bombed. Running wild all over the place, he is, with a gang of older boys. I’ve warned him that he’ll get himself into trouble and then where will we be? Of course I can’t say anything to his dad, not wanting to worry him.’
‘Haven’t you got any family who could help?’ Sally asked her sympathetically.
‘Not really. I’m from the north but I’ve moved down to London ’cos it’s easier to get to the hospital but I don’t really know anyone there yet.’
‘A boy that age needs a man around to teach him his manners,’ Harold Chambers announced firmly. ‘Need a bit of strong handling, young boys do.’
Seeing the stubborn look crossing the little boy’s face and the anxious guilt on his mother’s, Sally stepped in hastily, asking the first thing that came into her head in an effort to change the direction of the conversation.
‘How old is your little girl?’
‘Pauline. She’s nine months. Born in May, she was.’
May. The same time as her half-sister. Pain spiked through Sally, catching her off guard. Normally sherefused even to think about her half-sister, even to acknowledge within her own thoughts that she existed. Nine months old. That meant that she would have had nine months of love from Sally’s own father that she had had no right to have at all.
Sally shivered and turned towards the window.
‘So where are we going then?’ Tilly asked Drew, as they left the house arm in arm.
‘I’m not telling you until we get there. It’s a surprise,’ Drew insisted. ‘Oh, damn!’ he exclaimed ruefully. ‘I’ve gone and left part of your surprise on the kitchen table at Ian’s. We’ll have to call in there and get it.’
Tilly nodded.
‘I’d better check on the fire whilst we’re here,’ Drew added as he unlocked the front door to let them both into the
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