‘The sooner we get him to hospital the better.’
‘Someone ought to tell Mary,’ Dottie said as she climbed into the back of the ambulance.
Billy stood up and ran to the open door. ‘I’ll tell me mum, Auntie Dot.’ But the other ambulance man pushed him away. ‘Off you go now, sonny. This is no place for you.’
‘Tell your mum Gary is in hospital,’ Auntie Dot called to him. ‘Tell her he’s got poliomyelitis.’ The ambulance man shut the door, banged it twice and walked round to the front and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Billy watched as the ambulance raced down the road, its bell ringing like mad. He was confused. What was that she said? Polo-my-light-us? What was that?
Aunt Peaches was going back into the house.
‘What shall I say is wrong with Gary, Aunt Peaches?’
‘Gary is very ill,’ sniffed Peaches. She put her handkerchief to her mouth and closed the door. A second later, it opened again. ‘And don’t you come round again. It’s too dangerous. And tell your mum, none of your family is to come either.’
Billy stared at the closed door. Why couldn’t he go to Aunt Peaches? What had he done wrong? He turned and walked down the road scuffing his shoes and trying to work it out.
‘Hey-up, Billy. You coming on the swings?’
It was Paul Dore on his bike. He pulled up beside Billy.
‘I got to go home,’ said Billy miserably. His mum would go spare when he told her he’d upset Aunt Peaches. He’d get a walloping for sure.
‘Aw, come on,’ Paul cajoled. ‘I’ll give you a lift on me bike.’
It didn’t take much to persuade Billy to put off the moment he faced his mum. When they got to the playground, they didn’t have a swing, that was for babies, but the scrubland along the edges of the park was great for a game of Cowboys and Indians.
There was a whole crowd of them there including Mark and David Weaver. Everyone wanted to hear about his day on the beach.
‘Lucky devil,’ said David as he told them about the Punch and Judy man and his big ice cream. ‘Bags I’m John Wayne.’
‘It’s my turn,’ said Mark.
‘You did it last time,’ Billy protested.
In the end, Billy’s day out was forgotten as they had a scrap about who was going to be John Wayne and David Weaver won. Then they whooped around the bushes shooting Indians until it began to get cold and the light was failing. Paul Dore gave Billy a lift back on his handlebars as far as the road next to his and Billy, knowing that he was bound to be in trouble, walked slowly home.
‘Where the devil have you been?’ his mother demanded as she opened the door. She clipped his ear as he walked past. ‘I’ve been worried sick.’
‘Gary’s gone to hospital,’ said Billy quickly. ‘He’s got …’ He froze. He couldn’t remember what it was called. ‘And Aunt Peaches said none of us should come to her house ever again and she was so upset about it, she sent Auntie Dottie off in the ambulance with him.’
His mother put her hand to her throat. ‘Don’t tell me he’s got polio,’ she said quietly.
The isolation hospital was rather grim. It smelled of carbolic soap and disinfectant and it was dimly lit because most of the patients were asleep. Dottie followed the nurse who wheeled Gary onto the ward on an adult-sized stretcher. He looked so small and vulnerable. Wordlessly, they took him to a cot and the nurse drew the curtains around him, leaving Dottie on the outside.
‘Are you the child’s mother?’
Dottie shook her head at the doctor who had walked up behind her. ‘His mother is eight months pregnant,’ she explained. ‘Her doctor was worried about infection so he told her not to come. I’m a close friend.’ The hospital doctor said nothing. ‘Gary’s father is here,’ Dottie went on. ‘He’s parking the lorry.’
The doctor parted the curtain and went inside. Gary was whimpering.
‘If you would like to wait outside,’ said Sister, pulling little white cuffs over the rolled-up sleeves of her dark blue uniform. ‘I’ll come and speak to you later.’
Behind the curtain, Gary, obviously in pain, began to cry.
Dottie hesitated. ‘I promised his mother I’d hold his hand,’ she said anxiously.
‘We have to examine him,’ Sister said, ‘and the doctor will have to give him a lumbar puncture. It’s not very pleasant, I’m afraid, but it has to be done. We need to know what we’re up against. Now if you would like to wait outside …’
It was as much as Dottie could do to fight back the tears as she waited in the corridor for Jack to arrive. She stared hard at the green and cream tiled walls and the brown linoleum floors until she thought she knew every crack. Beyond the peeling brown door Gary’s cries grew more heart-rending. Jack hurried towards her, turning his cap around and around in his hand anxiously.
‘How is he?’
Dottie shook her head. ‘The doctor’s with him now.’
Jack sat beside her and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Oh God, oh God …’
She put her hand on his forearm. ‘Try to keep calm, Jack,’ she said gently. ‘They’re doing their best.’
‘Yes, yes, I know,’ he said brokenly. ‘Oh Dottie, that boy is my life. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.’
Mercifully, at that moment they heard Gary stop crying.
‘Don’t go thinking like that, Jack. He’s a tough little lad. He’ll pull through.’
Jack leaned further forward and wept silently. Dottie placed her hand in the centre of his back and did her best to fight her own tears. After having such a lovely day, she couldn’t believe this was happening. If Reg were here, even he would be upset.
They waited for what seemed like a lifetime until the brown door opened and the ward sister came out. ‘Are you the child’s father?’
Jack rose to his feet, and wiped the end of his nose on his jacket sleeve. ‘Yes.’
‘There’s no point in beating around the bush and there’s no easy way to say this but I’m afraid your son definitely has polio.’
Jack flung his arms around himself, squeezed his eyes tightly and turned away.
‘What happens now?’ Dottie asked. It cut her to the quick to see how hurt Jack was, but Peaches would want to know every last detail.
‘It’s best if you leave him now,’ the sister said matter-of-factly. ‘Mum can visit him in a week or so.’
‘A week or so?’ cried Dottie.
‘We keep visits to a minimum,’ the sister continued. ‘Normally we would
