Автор: Helen Forrester
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780007550401
isbn:
My parents, with their usual blithe inconsequence, had furnished the front room very well on the hire purchase system, regardless of the fact that the children still slept three to a bed under a motley collection of old coats and bits of blanket; and I did not even have a bed.
I was thankful enough that day, however, to curl up on the green leatherette settee. In the foetal position the pain lessened, though during the next surge I fainted.
I sobbed to myself and prayed that Mother would come home soon. Then the sacrifying spasms retreated slightly and I fell into a doze.
Father shook me gently to awaken me and asked anxiously, ‘Are you all right, dear? You look very white.’
My stomach and back were tight knots of pain, increasing and decreasing like waves on a seashore. I was also shivering with cold from the unheated room. I hardly dared to move, as I whimpered out the story of the torment I was enduring.
‘My underneaths are bleeding, Daddy. Do you think I’ve got appendicitis?’
Bent over me, he listened. Then his eyes began to twinkle, his lips to twitch. A loud guffaw burst from him.
I was horrified at such a reaction to my story.
‘Daddy!’ I reproached him, and then broke into a moan as the pain increased.
Father straightened up and, still smiling, let out a slow sigh of relief.
‘Didn’t your mother explain this to you?’
‘What?’
‘This – this bleeding?’
‘No. Was she expecting it?’ I was totally bewildered, and I sobbed as the pain hit new heights.
‘Well, of course. She must have been. You’re a girl.’
‘Of course, I’m a girl,’ I gasped. ‘What difference does that make? Daddy, could you get the doctor? The pain’s getting worse.’ I was deeply upset at his laconic attitude.
He hesitated for a moment. Then he said, ‘You just stay where you are for the moment, until Mother comes home. Fiona’s making the tea. I’ll ask her to bring you a cup. She peeked in here and thought you were sleeping, so she has laid the table for you and cut the bread and butter. I will make the fire in the kitchen for the children.’ His voice was kind.
With eyes screwed tight to help me bear the raging pain, I put my head down again on the inhospitable green leatherette. I heard him open the door, pause a moment and then say, ‘Don’t be afraid, old lady. This is nothing to be frightened about. You don’t need a doctor.’
I did not answer him, because I did not believe him. I could not understand how anyone could be in such pain and not need a doctor. ‘Mummy, come soon,’ I sobbed. Cold, indifferent Mother seemed to be the key to it all.
The door clicked again and I opened my eyes. Fiona entered, carefully balancing a coarse china cup on a saucer which did not match. Despite her care, the tea slopped as she put the cup and saucer into my hand. She looked at me anxiously from beneath a roughly cut fringe of nut brown hair.
‘Daddy said to drink the tea while it is very hot. What’s the matter, Helen? You look awful.’
I was shaking so much that, as I raised myself a little, I slopped the tea on to the new settee. ‘I don’t know, Fi,’ I answered, as I tried to sip the scalding liquid. ‘Daddy says it’s nothing – but, oh, Fi, I’ve got such a terrible pain in my back and tummy – and I’m bleeding underneath.’
Fiona’s pink cheeks blenched. ‘Bleeding?’
I nodded affirmatively. The tea was comforting and I drank it eagerly, though it was hot enough to burn my tongue.
‘Oh, Helen!’ she whispered.
‘Daddy said to stay here till Mummy came. Can you manage?’
‘Yes, of course. Daddy’s making the fire and Alan is fetching the coal for him. You rest. Mummy will come soon.’ She was trying hard not to panic herself.
‘Where’s Edward?’ I asked.
‘He’s in the kitchen. He’s fine.’
I could feel a warm trickle between my thighs and I took deep breaths to avoid screaming in fright.
‘Go and have your own tea,’ I told her in a strained whisper, and she went, stopping at the door to look back at me with fearful violet-blue eyes.
‘Don’t be afraid, Fi,’ I panted and tried to muster a smile for her sake. ‘I’ll be all right.’
She smiled back with sudden relief and shut the door quietly after her.
I was sure, as I sank back on to the settee, that I was on my death bed. And Father did not care!
Mother sat down on the green leatherette easy chair opposite to me, and took off her hat. She looked tired and irritable.
‘Oh, Mummy,’ I wailed. ‘I’ve got such a terrible pain – and I’m bleeding.’
‘Oh, stop crying, Helen,’ Mother snapped wearily. ‘There’s nothing the matter with you. This is what I told you about years ago. All girls bleed every month.’
I looked at her with wide-eyed horror, while I pressed my hands into my raging stomach. ‘I don’t remember your telling me.’
‘Of course I did – when you were about nine.’
If she had told me, the information must have been given so obliquely that it did not then register on my childish mind.
My teeth were chattering, as I asked incredulously, ‘Every month – and pain like this?’
‘Of course not. It doesn’t hurt at all. You have just worked yourself into a panic, and that has caused the pain. It will go away quite soon. We’ll try to get some aspirins, before it is due next time.’
Mother smoothed her hair, ruffled from her hat, and got up briskly. ‘I’ll put a kettle on and when it is boiled, you can come into the kitchen to wash yourself. I’ll get a piece of cloth and show you how to keep yourself dry.’
‘Will it be like this ever again?’ I asked between dry sobs.
‘I doubt it, if you don’t have hysterics.’
Twenty minutes later, I was seated by the kitchen fire, washed and tidied, drinking another cup of hot tea. The heat from the fire helped and gradually the pain receded, as Mother had promised.
The boys stared at me because they had been told that I had had hysterics over a perfectly normal tummy ache; and they went away, Alan to night school, Brian and Tony to play bus on the stairs.
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