Queenie Read online

  I set off ultra-self-consciously. I didn’t know if I was supposed to limp or not. Dr Malory squinted carefully at me. I moved stiffly round his desk, goose pimples prickling my arms.

  ‘Yes, yes, I thought so. There’s definitely a slight limp there – do you see, Miss Kettle?’

  ‘Yes, but I tell you, it’s her shoes. Take the shoes off, Elsie, and walk properly for the doctor.’

  I unlaced my shoes and padded around in my socks. I felt even worse now because I had a hole in my sock and my big toe poked through.

  ‘She’s still limping,’ said Dr Malory. ‘Come here, Elsie.’

  He got off his chair and felt each leg all over again. ‘Ah!’ he said triumphantly as he prodded my right kneecap. ‘It definitely feels doughy.’

  Mum and I looked at each other, baffled.

  ‘It’s a classic symptom. Look, it’s a little swollen – and the right knee feels hotter too,’ said Dr Malory.

  We all stared at my knee as if it were a loaf of bread starting to rise. I couldn’t really see much difference between my knees. They were both knobbly and rather grubby because Nan wasn’t there to tell me to give them a good scrub.

  ‘Why are we looking at her knees?’ said Mum. ‘Surely you get TB in your chest?’

  ‘This isn’t pulmonary tuberculosis, Miss Kettle. I’m pretty sure Elsie has the bovine variety.’

  We looked at him blankly.

  ‘I think she has tuberculosis of the knee,’ he said.

  ‘So, can you cure it?’ said Mum.

  ‘She’ll need complete rest in hospital,’ said Dr Malory.

  ‘With Nan in the sanatorium!’ I said.

  ‘No, no, we’ll send you to a special orthopaedic hospital,’ said Dr Malory, busy writing notes. ‘There’s a very good one with a children’s ward at Miltree.’

  ‘What?’ said Mum. ‘That’s a good fifty miles away! Can’t she go to the local hospital? Or can’t she stay in bed at home if all she needs is rest?’

  ‘No, Elsie’s leg needs to be completely immobilized in a special splint, and once my diagnosis is confirmed she’ll need daily injections too.’

  ‘I don’t like injections,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Yes, but you’re going to be a good brave girl and not make a fuss, isn’t that right?’ Dr Malory smiled at me.

  ‘Will I get Smarties every time they inject me?’ I asked.

  ‘I rather doubt it, but you can have one now,’ he said, reaching for his special jar.

  He gave me a dark brown one this time. It was my least favourite. I hated the colour brown and I didn’t like dark chocolate very much, but I managed to thank him politely and popped it in my mouth.

  ‘Now, Miss Kettle, you need to take Elsie back to the hospital for further X-rays straight away – just give them this note,’ said Dr Malory.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, she’ll start glowing in the dark with all these blooming X-rays!’ said Mum. ‘Aren’t they supposed to be bad for kiddies?’

  ‘Tuberculosis is worse – and we need to confirm the diagnosis. Then, as soon as Elsie’s had the X-rays, you need to take her to the orthopaedic hospital. I’ll phone ahead and tell them to expect you this afternoon.’

  ‘Surely we can wait till you’re certain sure she’s got TB of the leg or whatever?’

  ‘Elsie needs to be rested in bed under observation,’ said Dr Malory.

  ‘One day can’t possibly make any difference,’ Mum argued. ‘I’ve got a job interview lined up for this afternoon. I can’t go chasing halfway across the country looking for some bally hospital, not if I’m going to make the interview – and anyway, where am I going to get the fare for the two of us? I’m totally skint right this minute.’ She looked at him hopefully, as if she expected him to take out his wallet and offer her a couple of pound notes.

  ‘If money is a serious problem, take this note and show it at the National Assistance office,’ said Dr Malory. ‘Don’t look so worried, Elsie. I have a feeling they will have a great big Smartie jar for good girls in the hospital.’ He made little waving movements with his hands, clearly ushering us out.

  ‘Well!’ said Mum, out in the street. She peered warily at my wrist again, as if it were a time bomb. ‘It looks like you’ve really got it then. Gawd, what a turn-up. We’d better hurry and get you kitted out with new pyjamas and a decent toothbrush.’

  I didn’t usually wear any pyjamas or nighties in bed – I stayed in my vest and frilly knickers. I couldn’t help feeling excited when Mum took me into Woolworths, especially when I saw a pair of pink winceyette pyjamas patterned all over with kittens.

  ‘Oh Mum, please may I have those ones? Oh Mum, please, please, please,’ I begged, hanging on her arm.

  ‘They’re seven shillings and sixpence! It’s daylight robbery,’ said Mum – but she bought them, and a pink toothbrush, and a Muffin the Mule flannel.

  ‘Are we using up all our money, Mum? Will we have to go to the National Assistance?’ I asked.

  ‘Ssh! No, we will not! That doctor had a cheek suggesting it. We’re not riff-raff,’ said Mum.

  She bought me a new Girl too, and a pastel sweetie necklace. ‘You can eat it when you get sick of wearing it,’ she said.

  ‘Oh Mum, I do love you,’ I said, and reached up to kiss her.

  She pulled away from me. ‘Watch out! I don’t want your germs!’ she said sharply.

  I backed away in dismay, my hands over my mouth.

  ‘Now don’t look at me like that with those big Bambi eyes! There’s no point me catching it too, is there? I’m the one who has to work to pay all the bills,’ said Mum. ‘Now come on – let’s go and get those stupid X-rays done.’

  We went back to the hospital. I had to lie down on a strange table this time and keep very still while they twisted my legs into odd positions. We’d been kept waiting a long time so it was nearly lunch time now.

  ‘Tell you what, we’ll go to Lyons for a treat,’ said Mum.

  Nan and I rarely went to Lyons, and never for lunch. If we went out, we went to the ABC and shared a currant bun and a milk-and-a-dash, and I had an extra sugar cube to suck.

  ‘Are we having a bun, Mum?’ I asked.

  ‘No, we’ll have a proper lunch,’ she said.

  I couldn’t make up my mind in the queue so Mum chose for me: tomato soup with a roll and butter, fish and chips – under a plastic dome to keep them warm – and then strawberry mousse.

  It was the most glorious meal I’d ever had, and yet somehow I didn’t feel like eating it. I kept thinking of the germs wriggling around inside me. I could almost feel them tickling under the skin. I kept my sore wrist covered up with my cardigan sleeve and hid it under the table to make sure no one could even get a glimpse of it. I ate one-handed, trying hard not to spill the bright red soup.

  Mum kept staring at me, shaking her head. ‘I can’t quite take it in,’ she said. ‘Eat up nicely now, Elsie.’

  I tried hard but my throat seemed to have closed up. I couldn’t even swallow the soft white roll, though I chewed and chewed. I ended up just sucking a few chips and eating a spoonful of mousse.

  ‘What a waste,’ said Mum, but she’d barely touched her own meal. She looked at her watch. ‘Look, my interview’s at two. Maybe we could trek all the way to this hospital afterwards. How do you feel about that?’

  I wasn’t really used to being asked how I felt. I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘That’s it. That’s what we’ll do,’ said Mum. ‘After all, someone’s got to pay the rent, eh? And it’s going to cost me a fortune, going backwards and forwards to Miltree.’

  ‘How long will I be there?’ I asked. The roll still seemed to be in my throat, stopping me from swallowing properly.

  ‘How should I know?’ said Mum. ‘Then I suppose I’ll have to visit your nanny too, though she really doesn’t deserve it, passing all her TB on to you.’

  ‘Nan didn’t mean to, Mum,’ I said. A sudden overwhelming desire for Nan washed over me. ‘I must see h