Lost Angel. Kitty Neale

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       Chapter Ten

      Just a few days after Doug left, Ellen went down with an awful cold that turned to a raging fever, and two days later she passed it on to Gertie.

      Hilda was run ragged as she nursed them both, along with seeing to the chickens, pigs and the goat. Bertie was contented once he’d been fed and would lie on Gertie’s bed, and the cats were happy and off out as soon as they finished the food in their bowls but Hilda became seriously worried as Ellen and Gertie’s temperatures fluctuated – one minute they were hot, the next cold. Tiredly she went into Gertie’s room.

      ‘I’m thirsty and my head’s splitting,’ Gertie moaned.

      ‘Somehow I’m going to have to go into the village. You both need to be seen by a doctor.’

      ‘Waste of time. He’s at least eighty,’ she said, then bent double with coughing before she croaked, ‘See how we are in a couple of days.’

      Hilda rubbed her eyes. They’d been like this for over a week now and she was now feeling a bit rough herself. Maybe Gertie was right, maybe there would be an improvement soon. ‘All right, but if Ellen gets any worse, no matter what, I want her seen by the doctor.’

      ‘My throat’s raw.’

      ‘Here, drink this,’ Hilda said as she poured Gertie a glass of water. ‘I’ll be back soon, but I must see to Ellen now.’

      Gertie lay back, closing her eyes, and Hilda quietly left the room. She found Ellen tossing and turning, her hair wet with perspiration and the bedding in a tangle around her. Hilda sorted the bed, bathed her with cool water and for a moment Ellen opened her eyes, but then they closed again. Hilda shook her head in despair. She felt so helpless and the feeling of isolation, of living so many miles from any other human beings, overwhelmed her.

      For the rest of the day Hilda kept up her vigil, only leaving Ellen to see to Gertie and the animals. At night she sat in a chair by her daughter, unaware in the early hours of the morning that she had fallen asleep, her upper body and head resting on the bed.

      ‘Mum … Mum …’

      Hilda awoke with a start, her back screaming with pain as she sat up. She groaned, still half asleep at first, but as soon as her eyes settled on her daughter, she was instantly awake. Ellen looked a lot better and, as Hilda reached out to place a hand on her daughter’s forehead, for the first time in a week she smiled. ‘Your temperature’s down. How do you feel?’

      ‘A lot better, and I’m hungry.’

      Hilda could have danced with joy but, standing up, she swayed. Her throat was on fire, head thumping, but she fought it off, determined to get her daughter something to eat. ‘I’ll look in on Gertie, and then make you some breakfast. Hopefully, Gertie’s feeling better too.’

      ‘Mum, you look awful.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Hilda lied.

      Gertie was still asleep when Hilda peeped in the room, so leaving her for now she went downstairs, clinging to the banister for balance as her head swam. The range would need lighting and, opening the doors, she stuffed in paper and wood, before adding coke, praying she could get it going. Was that a knock on the door? No, surely not? The cottage was so remote and they didn’t get visitors. Another knock and, swaying with dizziness, Hilda finally managed to get to the door.

      ‘Mrs Brandon,’ she croaked.

      ‘You haven’t been to the village for a long time and I was worried about you,’ the woman said, but then paled, her hand reaching out. ‘My dear, are you all right?’

      Mrs Brandon’s voice barely reached Hilda as she sank into a pit of darkness.

      As Hilda’s condition worsened, she lost any sense of time passing, vaguely thinking at one point that she was in some sort of motorised vehicle. She drifted in and out of consciousness, hardly aware of what was going on around her as her temperature raged. When briefly conscious, coughs racked her body, the pain in her chest excruciating before she sank, exhausted, into blackness once again.

      Voices reached her again and Hilda forced her eyes open, her first thought for her daughter. ‘Ellen … Ellen,’ she gasped.

      ‘Your daughter’s fine,’ she heard a gentle voice say, but then Hilda knew nothing once again, unaware until later that day that both her daughter and Gertie were sitting beside her.

      ‘Is she gonna be all right?’ Ellen asked a nurse worriedly as she stared at her mother’s ashen face.

      ‘There’s been some improvement,’ said the nurse.

      Ellen saw her mother’s eyelids flicker, and then they opened, her eyes dazed and confused.

      ‘Wh … where am I?’

      ‘You’re in hospital, my dear; and, look, your daughter has come to see you.’

      ‘Ellen,’ Hilda said, her head turning.

      ‘Oh, Mum … Mum.’

      Hilda started to cough, the nurse raising her shoulders, and Ellen stared with horror as her mum’s chest heaved and she fought for breath.

      ‘I think you should both go now,’ the nurse urged.

      ‘Go?!’ СКАЧАТЬ