Queenie Read online

  ‘Shut it now, Elsie. I’m trying to think.’

  ‘Mum, Nan isn’t going to . . . to die, is she?’ I whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She promised me she wouldn’t, but can you die of TB?’ I persisted, starting to cry.

  ‘Stop that,’ said Mum, but then she put out her arms and gave me a hug. I breathed in her Coty L’Aimant talcum smell and sobbed harder.

  ‘Nanny’s a fighter, you know that. Of course she’ll get better. Look, we’ll go and visit her at the weekend, and you’ll see for yourself,’ said Mum, pulling me properly onto her lap.

  ‘I’ll be able to see her on Saturday? You promise, Mum?’ I said, sniffing.

  ‘Oh, for Gawd’s sake, wipe that nose. I don’t want snot all over my best blouse. Yes, I promise,’ she said.

  * * *

  So on Saturday I marched along beside Mum, and inside my head I chanted, See Nan, see Nan, see Nan, as I put my left foot down and then my right, determinedly marching.

  ‘Stop limping, Elsie!’ said Mum.

  I stared down at my skinny legs. I pulled a face at my grey socks and brown Clarks lace-ups. ‘It’s these shoes,’ I said. ‘They’re too small now. They’re hurting my toes.’ I wanted new shoes – shiny black patent ones, or bright scarlet with a strap.

  Mum bent over and prodded my feet through the ugly brown leather. ‘Nonsense, you’ve got heaps of room.’

  ‘Couldn’t I have them anyway? I hate these. They’re boy’s shoes!’

  Nan had found them for a shilling at a jumble sale, barely worn and my size, worst luck.

  ‘What do you think I am, made of money?’ said Mum, standing up and giving me a tug to hurry me along.

  ‘They all tease me at school because I’ve got boy’s shoes,’ I said mournfully.

  ‘Stop that whining,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve told you, you’ve got to learn to stand up for yourself. Now come on, or we’ll miss the bus. And stop limping, it’s driving me mad. You’re walking along all lopsided.’

  ‘My leg aches.’

  ‘Oh, you’re full of aches. Headaches, belly aches, all-over aches. Just pull yourself together. And you’re to give Nanny a big smile when you see her. I don’t want her worrying, it’ll only make her worse,’ said Mum.

  I scurried along beside her, making such an effort to walk properly that I couldn’t do it naturally at all, and developed kipper feet.

  ‘Mum, look, I’m like Charlie Chaplin,’ I said, waddling, and doffing an imaginary bowler hat.

  Nan always laughed at my imitations and said I was a proper caution. Mum just looked irritated.

  ‘Stop messing about this instant or I’ll send you back home and visit Nanny by myself,’ she said, in that snippy tone that meant she wasn’t joking.

  I walked left-right, left-right, like a little soldier, though my leg ached worse than ever. We got the bus to the hospital – two buses – and although I usually thought a bus ride was a treat and liked chatting to the conductor, this time I kept quiet and nibbled my lip anxiously the whole way.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Elsie, leave that lip alone! You’re making it bleed. No one will ever want to kiss you if you’ve got chapped lips,’ said Mum.

  I decided I didn’t care and went on nibbling. I didn’t want anyone to kiss me, only Nan, and I knew she wouldn’t mind a chap or two.

  I was surprised by the sanatorium. It wasn’t like a hospital at all – more like a bleak holiday camp, but without any rides. It took us ages to find Nan, but eventually we were directed to a kind of Nissen hut at the end of the complex.

  I was suddenly frightened, and hung back, clinging to Mum, even though I was so desperate to see Nan.

  ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ Mum said, but her own palm was clammy too. She wrinkled her nose. ‘I hate the smell of hospitals.’

  There were twelve ladies lying down flat in bed, six on one side and six the other. I thought they’d all be quite old like Nanny, but most were Mum’s age or even younger. They all looked very white, as pale as their pillows, and huddled shivering beneath their thin blankets. It was hard to tell whether they were awake or asleep – or even dead.

  ‘Nan?’ I quavered.

  ‘Blooming heck, it’s like an iceberg in here,’ said Mum, peering around at all the wide-open windows. ‘There’s Nanny, right at the end. You smile at her and say hello nicely like a good girl.’

  I don’t think I’d have recognized Nan if Mum hadn’t pointed her out. She was lying on her back like all the others, and her mouth was sagging open. She didn’t have her false teeth in. I averted my eyes quickly, knowing Nan would hate me seeing her empty mouth.

  ‘Come on, chin up,’ Mum hissed behind me. ‘There now, Mother, I’ve brought our Elsie to see you. What are they trying to do, freeze you to death?’

  ‘It’s meant to be good for us – fresh air,’ said Nan, her voice oddly muffled. ‘But all it’s doing for me is giving me chilblains. Where’s my best girl, then?’

  I was hiding behind Mum, suddenly stupidly shy of Nan. She looked so different. Something had happened to her hair. She usually had it in a roll at the front, and then pulled back in a neat bun at the back. But the bun had gone missing now. Someone had chopped Nan’s hair off at ear level. It stuck out wildly in every direction, every follicle clearly in shock. It made her look crazy.

  ‘Hello, Nan,’ I whispered to the mad old lady in the bed pretending to be my dear warm nanny.

  ‘What’s that face for, darling?’ she asked. ‘Don’t look so frightened, poppet. I’m still your nanny, even if they’ve cut off my crowning glory.’

  ‘And made a right mess of it too,’ said Mum. ‘What did you let them do that for? It’s like a prison haircut!’

  ‘They don’t have the time to wash long hair so they cut it for convenience.’

  ‘Well, they could have given you a decent perm while they were at it. And what in God’s name’s happened to your teeth? They haven’t taken them away for convenience too?’

  ‘No, no, they just thought they needed to be sterilized. I’ve asked the nice nurse and she’s going to try and find them again for me,’ said Nan. She was peering round Mum, holding out her arms to me. ‘Hey there, Elsie!’

  ‘Now you can’t go cuddling her, Mum,’ said my mum.

  ‘I know, I know, I’m not going to breathe all over her. I just want to hold her hand,’ said Nan.

  ‘Oh Nan, here!’ I said, darting forward and latching onto her dear knobbly fingers. ‘You’re cold!’

  ‘Yes – daft, isn’t it. I need a pair of big furry gloves to keep me warm.’

  ‘Perhaps I could make you some?’ I suggested. I could knit – Nan herself had taught me – but I had so far only managed meagre little plain-stitch scarves for my two dolls and Albert Trunk. I hoped my great love for Nan would spur me on and give me new skills and perseverance.

  I hung onto Nan’s poor cold hand, pulling on it like a bell ringer. ‘Don’t you worry, Nan, we’ll make you warm and cosy. Oh dear, I wish you could come home!’

  ‘So do I, pet, but I’m not better just yet. I will get better, like I promised. All these ladies are getting better, see?’ said Nan.

  I wasn’t at all sure she was right. Mum wasn’t convinced either.

  ‘They look at death’s door to me,’ she hissed. ‘I’m sure you’ll get worse, breathing in all their germs too. It’ll make your TB run rampant.’

  I gave a little gasp.

  ‘Don’t be so silly, Sheila,’ said Nan sharply. ‘Now, what’s in that bag of yours? Have you brought something for the poor invalid? I hope it’s not grapes – you know I can’t cope with the pips.’

  ‘We’ve got you chocolate, Nan – a bar of Fry’s Chocolate Cream, your favourite. I chose it for you! And a bag of sherbet lemons too, and a bottle of Tizer in case you get thirsty.’

  ‘Oh my, it’s like Christmas and birthday all in one go!’ Nan blew us both kisses, leaned out of her bed, and tucked her goodies in her locker, right at the bac