Up With the Larks (31 page)

I see that the hens have been shut in the hen house for the
night, and the rabbits taken care of, and that there's the remains
of a homemade cottage pie in the fridge, all thanks to Susie.

I try to thank her but she brushes me off and says, 'I been
on phone to Daphne up the road, had a long chat.'

'You know her?'

'Bird, you forget I be knowing most folk in these parts, I
was born here, remember? Now I reckon you be wanting to
go straight onto hospital after you get the kids to school
tomorrow, stay with Ben, so she's bringing 'em home to her
place when she collects her own kids. Amy and Will are thrilled
to bits, especially as they be getting a chance to see the new
calf just born today. Oh, and Daphne'll be popping by here
as well, see t'hens and rabbits.'

I'm stunned by all this, and mightily relieved. Then I groan,
'Work. God, Susie, I'm on tomorrow.'

'No you're not, bird. Eddie and me'll split your round, no
problem. Already asked 'im.'

I burst into tears. Despite my terror as Ben was rushed to
hospital, my fears for him all day, my exhaustion, lack of sleep
and lack of food, I had managed, only by a thread, to hold
myself together. Now I'm undone by all this kindness, this
thoughtfulness, this generosity of time and compassion.

Susie lets me cry and cry, pats my shoulder and says, 'There,
there, my bird, all's gonna be just fine now,' as she hands me
tissues, gets me another hot drink. 'Oh, and by the way, I'm
taking Jake home with me until Ben's home and you be back
to normal.'

'But your cat . . . !'

'No problem. She practically hibernates in me bedroom
from October to March. Jake'll not get a whiff of her nor she
of him.'

I'm feeling much better for the good weep but still don't
go to bed after Susie leaves despite hardly sleeping the night
before. It's nearly eleven o'clock but I'm both exhausted and
agitated, a poisonous combination where sleep is concerned.

So I'm still sitting in the living room when there's a ring of
the doorbell. I go to the front door and open it without a
qualm. I haven't a clue who's here at this hour but I don't think
to ask before I open up.

Another thing I'd never do in London, that's for sure
.

Daphne is standing there, apologizing for arriving out of the
blue at that hour. 'I was coming back from a film club get- together just
down the road and saw the light, saw you were still up. I'm so sorry about
Ben. What can we do to help?'

I ask her in and to my surprise she accepts, first making a
quick phone call to Joe saying she'll be later than usual. She
sits at the kitchen table while I open a bottle of white wine,
a sudden impulse that Daphne seems to approve.

'I suspect you need this,' she says, as we drink the wine.
'What an awful day.'

She repeats what Susie has told me, that she wants to take
Amy and Will out to her place tomorrow after school. 'They
get on like a house on fire with my kids, Tessa, as you know.
They may as well be spending the night and I'll get the lot of
them off to school.'

Like Susie, she won't hear of any thanks, simply changes
the subject. She stays an hour, and we drink the whole bottle,
talking without a pause about everything under the sun. When
I ask her about the film club she'd mentioned, she says, 'Oh,
it's just an informal thing, taking turns watching new films and
old classics on DVD at each other's homes and chatting about
them afterwards. And I nearly forgot. Everyone there sends
warm wishes, hopes Ben is better soon. And Clara said to ask
if you want to join us. When Ben's home and better, that is,
no need to be thinking about it now.'

Clara is another neighbour, a sparky Cornish woman around
my age who lives a few houses away in the village. I hardly
know her, though I've spoken to her in the shop and at various
village functions. Like so many of the others, she was friendly
but distant, too distant for me to make any overtures towards
friendship.

I say uncertainly, '
Clara
said to ask me? Are you sure?' I've
never been asked before to anything in the village, except for
the big fêtes and parties that everyone goes to.

'Of course we're sure, all of us. Anyway, think about it.
There's only about eight of us, a good-sized group. Some you'll
know from around the village and the others you'll get to know.'

When she realizes the time, Daphne giggles and says, 'I'd
better call Joe, I can't really drive like this. Good thing my
mum's staying with us, to be there with our kids.'

So Joe comes out in his battered old farm truck, stays about
ten minutes to ask about Ben and send his regards. When they
finally leave, I fall into bed and have no trouble falling asleep
at once, not stirring until its time to get the kids ready for
school. A quick phone call to the hospital assures me that Ben
is still sleeping and has had a pain free night.

When I see him later, I begin to worry again. He looks pale
and wan, his skin clammy. Though with this neon lighting I
suppose I look just as bad. During the morning we learn that
there is still concern about a possible rupture, so Ben is being
monitored carefully. He's going to have another scan and some
blood tests. There's talk now of a possible operation.

The day drifts, as hospital days do. I'm getting used to that
pervasive hospital smell of milky drinks, bitter medicines,
disinfectants and occasional cigarette smoke as visitors from
outside walk in. When Ben dozes, I leaf through magazines
or listen unashamedly to the Ozzie surfer in the bed opposite,
talking on his mobile phone. 'Alright, mate, good, good! . . .
Well actually tell a lie, buddy, not so good 'cos I'm in hospital,
got hit by m'board in the old fella!'

He's been surfing in
this?
I look out of the hospital window
at the rain still drizzling against it. It's November, for goodness
sake, but of course the surfers are out all year now,
thanks to wet suits.
Far better you than me
,
mate
, I think with
a shiver.

Ben is being fed intravenously. He'll have to be on low
fibre liquids for a time, to reduce the amount of material
going through the colon until it heals. Later, we'll have to
take special care of his diet, adding the fibre he'll be needing
to keep his colon healthy and hopefully prevent this happening
again.

He's more concerned about me. 'When did you last eat,
Tessa? Go down to the cafeteria and get something, please.
You don't want me to start worrying about you.'

It's the last thing I want so I finally go down, grab a ham
and cheese baguette and a weak coffee. At first the food is
hard to swallow, but once I start to eat my stomach tells me
how hungry it is and I fill it rapidly.

When I go back up it's visiting time and to my surprise,
Ben has a visitor. It's Susie, still in uniform having just finished
her round and part of mine. She's brought a pile of magazines
for Ben: a selection of news magazines, a science monthly and
a men's health magazine. She doesn't stay long but before she
goes, says she and Eddie can do my round again tomorrow,
no problem.

I've talked this over already with Ben, so now I say, 'Thanks,
Susie, but since Amy and Will are staying overnight at Daphne's
and she's bringing them to school, I may as well work. I'll come
to the hospital straight after. I'll have a couple of hours with
Ben anyway before getting the children.'

'Well, if you be sure, bird, but don't be worrying pickin' up
Amy and Will. At least a half dozen of the mums of their
friends have phoned Daphne, offering to have them after school
and overnight. Clara wants to do it next. Oh, and there be a
rota going to feed the rabbits and hens. So you can stay with
your man as long as you like.'

I'm so overwhelmed I can't think straight. Susie says, 'You
not be needing to think, bird. Your friends be doing the straight
thinking for you. Just you two concentrate on Ben here getting
better.'

That afternoon Ben has several visitors. Joe comes, with
homemade get well cards Amy and Will have made at school,
signed by all the children and their teacher.

'They're over to our place now,' Joe says. 'Daphne's got them
baking cakes with the eggs they just collected from your hens.
You're not to worry about them.'

Harry visits next, with sandalwood scented soap, hand
lotion and men's face cream. 'Why should you females get
all the pampering?' he tells me as I smell the products and
threaten to confiscate them for myself. 'You leave them alone,
woman.'

Because Harry usually has lunch at the Sunflower Café, Ben
knows him quite well. They talk easily, but like the other visitors,
Harry sees Ben tiring and leaves before overstaying.

As soon as he's gone, one of the waitresses from the café,
who shared shifts with Ben in summer, arrives with a bunch
of carnations. 'Everyone in St Geraint sends piles and piles of
love, Ben,' she tells him, planting a kiss on his forehead as she
leaves. 'Don't you be doing this again, scaring us to hell being
rushed to hospital like that.'

Later, as Ben is getting ready for sleep and I'm preparing
to go, he murmurs, 'I didn't think we had so many friends in
Cornwall.'

'I didn't think we had
any
. Oh, lots of people we liked, but
I didn't know they were friends. Didn't know they'd come to
our rescue like this, take care of us like . . . like . . . like
family
,'
I shake my head in wonder. 'I'm completely bowled over.'

'And I'm completely whacked,' Ben says, his eyes closing.
'It's been a long day.'

We say goodbye, kiss, and I leave the hospital, go straight
to Daphne and Joe's farm. I've never been there but when I
talked to her earlier, to see how the kids were, she asked me
to stop by, have a bite to eat. They've got a comfortable old
beamed farmhouse, two golden Labradors and a casserole
waiting for me in the Aga.

Will and Amy are in bed but Daphne takes me to see them
so that I can kiss them goodnight. Amy stirs, wakes up for a
moment and asks, 'How's Dad?'

'Doing really well. I'll take you and Will to see him tomorrow.'
She's back asleep in seconds.

Daphne and Joe have eaten, but they open a bottle of red
wine, have a glass with me as I tuck into a succulent lamb stew,
thick with gravy and vegetables. We talk about everything and
nothing whilst I have two helpings. It's incredible how I feel
at home here, in this house I've never even set foot in before.

The night nurse on Ben's ward doesn't mind my phoning
her in the early hours, before I start work the next day. Ben's
had a good night, he's sound asleep, and yes she'll give him
my love, tell him I'll be in later. She sounds calm, unharassed,
unlike some of the day nurses yesterday. And who can blame
them? They're overstretched, overworked.

I ran into one of them, Rachel, coming out of the ward
yesterday. She's a sweet young woman in her late twenties and
I know her slightly as she is still, out of necessity, living with
her parents who are on my postal route.

At the post office in Morranport, Nell accosts me at the
door. 'You be asking me, why did I not be coming out to
see you, come out to see what's to be done?' she scowls at
me accusingly.

Before I can answer she tells me, 'Because no one had the
sense to tell me, that's why. Not till late last night, too late to
go over and give some comfort or mebbe make a pot of tea,
some supper, give a hand doin' summat or other.'

I'm slightly bewildered. 'Give a hand doing what, Nell?'

'Why anything that need be doing,' she says in the tone of
voice one uses for stating the obvious. 'Looking after your
kiddies, cookin' a meal – whatever.' She shakes her head at the
missed opportunity but brightens as she adds, 'But now you
be here, you can let me know what I can do.'

'Nell, thanks, you're a star. But Susie, and the neighbours,
everyone has been great. Not anything to do.'

She's not sure of this but decides to leave it for a minute.
'Poor Ben, but at least he be having a good sleep now, so don't
you go worrying, me handsome.'

I start to nod then wonder how she knows this. It turns out
that Rachel had a last peep at him when her shift finished,
found him sleeping peacefully. She told her folks who rang
Nell to give her the news, if she hadn't heard already, that the
postie's hubby was in hospital but doing just fine, according
to Rachel.

When I've finally got the mail sorted and am on my way
out of the door, Nell blocks it. She won't let me go unless I
promise to let her know if there's anything, anything at
all,
that she can do.

That day is surreal. The news of Ben in hospital seems to
have spread through all my customers and I'm inundated with
fruit and chocolates, cards, good wishes, prayers, a couple of
loaves of homemade bread, books and magazines for Ben to
read, and offers of help.

By the time I get to the Rowlands I'm all talked out and
ready for a break, and accept gladly when Emma asks me if I
want a coffee. They, like everyone else, are full of commiseration
and offers of help; in fact, they'd already left messages
on our answerphone.

'We'd have Jake but he seems to be happy driving about
with Susie,' Emma says. 'We saw them both when Susie did
your round yesterday.'

'Strange to be seeing Jake and not her cat,' Martin adds.

I nod, remembering that of course Susie's cat often goes
out with her in the van. Poor thing, brought into early hibernation
because of Jake. Typical Susie not to mention it but to
sort it out smoothly.

The Rowlands press me to come back to lunch, or dinner,
but I explain I'll be at the hospital till late. Emma runs inside
and comes back with a brown ceramic ovenproof dish. 'A
lasagne. Just heat it up,' she says as she hands it to me.