The Might-Have-Been Girl A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright 2016

Chapter 24   Mum

I picked up the phone and said “Emma? What's wrong?” Emma sounded like she had been crying.

“It's Mum, Sis. She's in hospital with pneumonia and she's very ill.”

A cold shudder ran through my body. “When I spoke to her a couple of days ago, she said she had a bad cold, but nothing worse than that.”

“I know,” said Emma. “You know what she's like – 'soldiering on'. She didn't seem too bad when I went to the theatre yesterday afternoon, but when I came home, she was in bed, running a temperature and really sick. I called a locum doctor who came quite quickly, thank goodness. He checked her out and said she had pneumonia and he rang for an ambulance to take her to the local hospital. That's where I'm calling from now. She's on a drip with intravenous antibiotics but she's still really sick and now she's delirious. Harriet, I'm really afraid for her.”

“Oh Emma, why didn't you ring me last night?” I felt myself close to tears.

“Mum told me not to. She was lucid then, and she said she'd only worry if you were running around at night trying to get here. Can you come up today – please?”

“I'm sure I can,” I replied. “I'll ring Mark our director. I've got an understudy who's been itching to play the role. I've been coaching her and I'm sure she'll be alright, not that that matters. This is an emergency.”

“Alright. I'll be at the hospital if you come straight here.”

Emma hadn't said as much, but of course she was supposed to perform in the evening, and unlike me she didn't have an understudy. I quickly told Louise what had happened and then rang Mark. He was very understanding and told me to go to Bridchester immediately and not to worry about the play. He was sure that after my coaching Elspeth would perform the role very well.

Louise told me to go upstairs and pack and she would make me some breakfast.

“I don't feel like eating,” I said, but she replied that I must have something before getting on the train, so I didn't argue, but ran upstairs and quickly packed some clothes. When I came down again, breakfast was on the table and Louise told me that her husband Bob would drive me to the station.

“You've all been so kind,” I said, tears starting in my eyes.

“Nonsense,” she replied. “This is an emergency and we must all do what we can, both for you and your mum.”

As Bob drove me to Kings Cross station, I phoned Reggie to tell him what was happening. Bless him he immediately offered to drive me to Brid, but I told him I was taking the train, and that I would keep him posted. It all seemed like a nightmare and I was wishing I could wake up and find that I was imagining it.

I booked my ticket and the train was due to leave at eight-fifty. When I reached my seat, there was a middle-aged couple sitting opposite me and the man immediately offered to put my suitcase in the luggage rack. Chivalry is not yet dead! I couldn't help thinking that if I had presented as a young man, he wouldn't have offered. There are many advantages in being a young woman.

The train left a few minutes later and for a while I watched the passing scenery. I enjoy travelling by train; it always puts me in mind of lines from the poem 'Travel' by Edna St Vincent Millay;

My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing;
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
No matter where it's going.

After a while I took out my copy of 'Hamlet' which I had decided to read right through to get a better idea of Ophelia's relationship with the other characters. I studied it for a while and then thanks to the gentle rocking of the train I drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke and looked at my watch over an hour had passed. The couple opposite had disappeared and I confess my first instinct was to look for my suitcase, but it was still in the luggage rack. It's sad that we have become so suspicious of people. A couple of minutes later they arrived back and took their seats.

“Hello again,” said the woman. “We didn't want to disturb you, You must be very tired.”

“I do work late into the night,” I said. “And I had to get up earlier than usual this morning. My mum is sick and I'm going to see her.”

“Oh dear,” said the woman. “Nothing too bad I hope?”

“Yes it is. My sister rang to say Mum's got pneumonia and she's in hospital. She's a widow; there's only my sister with her and she is due to be on stage this evening. I know that sounds strange but she doesn't have an understudy and the rest of the cast depend on her to be there. I would have come up anyway of course.”

“We were wondering why you were reading 'Hamlet',” said the man. “Are you on the stage too?”

I blushed. “Yes I am.”

“My name's Jim Franklin and this is my wife Esther.”

“I'm please to meet you. I'm Harriet Stow.”

“Harriet Stow?” said Esther. “That name sounds familiar.”

“You're probably thinking of the American author Harriet Beecher Stowe who wrote 'Uncle Tom's Cabin',” I said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“No, I don't think so. Our daughter who lives in London is a teacher, and she recently took her class to see a play, 'Dear, Dear...'?”

“Dear Brutus,” I prompted her. “Yes, that's the play I'm in. My understudy is taking over while I'm away.”

“Yes, that's it. I remember thinking it was a rather strange name for a play.”

“It comes from a line in Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar” 'The fault dear Brutus is not in our stars but in ourselves',” I responded.

“I see. Well she told us there was a young lady in the cast who was very good, and it seems we are speaking to her. Just wait until I tell her we've met you.”

'Oh goodness,' I thought. 'Here we go again. Please don't ask me for an autograph.' And I knew that once more my face resembled a lobster.

“May I ask why you are reading 'Hamlet'?” asked Jim.

“Yes, I've been given the position of understudy for Ophelia in a new production.”

“In London?”

“Err no, it's in Stratford.”

“The Imperial Shakespeare Company? That's quite a coup young lady.”

“Yes it is. I've been very fortunate.” I responded.

“I think you're being very modest my dear. May I ask who's starring in it?” said Mrs Franklin.

“Well David Lodge is playing Hamlet and Dame Emily Good is Queen Gertrude.”

“My goodness,” said Mrs Franklin. “Have you met them?”

“Well David was at the audition. That was rather scary, but he was actually very pleasant. I've actually met Dame Emily a couple of times, and she is one of the nicest people you could hope to meet.”

Both the Franklins looked very impressed.

“Well I hope you get a chance to perform with them,” said Mrs Franklin.

I smiled. “Well I hope so too, but that means that Phoebe Wells who has the role will have to get sick or have an accident, and I can't wish that on her.”

I was very grateful to the Franklins because they distracted me from worrying about Mum for a while. They were going to Edinburgh to see their other daughter who had just given birth to their first grandchild. I had to get off the train at York to take another service to Bridchester, so as we pulled in, Mr Franklin kindly took down my suitcase from the luggage rack, and we made our farewells. They promised to keep an eye out for me in future plays, and said they might try to see the production of Hamlet even though they knew it was unlikely they'd see me on stage.

“I imagine your name will be in the programme,” said Jim Franklin. I'd never even thought of that – my name in the same program as those famous names! Something to add to Mum's collection; and that of course immediately made me think of Mum again and I felt like crying.

“I'm sorry,” said Jim, seeing the look on my face, “Here I am waffling away and you are worrying about your mother.”

“No, it's fine,” I assured him. “You've actually distracted me a bit from thinking about her. Otherwise this trip would seem like an eternity.”

The train came to a halt and I bade them farewell, and stepped out onto the platform.

The train to Bridchester wasn't due for forty minutes, and as I sat waiting on the platform, my phone rang. It was Emma, and she sounded very distressed.

“Sis, I'm ringing to see where you are. I have to turn off my phone in the hospital so you can't reach me there.”

“I'm at York, Sis. The train is due in forty minutes. I should be there in a couple of hours at most.”

“Can you take a taxi instead? I'll pay, I don't care about the money. Mum is so sick, I'm really frightened,” she said, her voice breaking up with sobs.

“Of course,” I replied. I was frightened now too. “I didn't know she was that bad.”

“She's delirious still. I can't make out what's she's saying but I think she's asking for you.”

“Alright Em, you go back to her, tell her I'm coming and I'll go and find a taxi,” I said, and grabbing my suitcase I hurried out of the station. Fortunately there was a taxi rank outside. I ran up to the first one and spoke to the driver.

“Can you take me to Bridchester?”

“Bridchester? That's about forty miles. It'll cost you a bit lass,” he replied.

“I don't care,” I replied, tears starting to run down my cheeks. “I've got to see my mother. She's in hospital there and my sister thinks she's dying.” I nearly choked on the last word.

The driver immediately looked serious. “Of course I can take you. Hop in and I'll put your suitcase in the boot.”

I got into the taxi and in few minutes we were on the A166.

“I'm Peter,” said the driver. “It's going to take us about an hour to get there because there's no motorway.” He paused. “I could try and get us a police escort if you like?”

“I thought they were just for emergencies,” I replied, dabbing at my eyes.

”Well, isn't this one?” Peter said. “Look I know a lot of the guys in the local highway patrol. This is strictly between you and me, but why don't I see if they've got a car free?”

With that he started speaking into his radio handset, and after a few exchanges with the voice at the other end, he said 'Bingo! They'll meet us at Stamford Bridge.”

Peter stuck to the legal limit of sixty miles per hour up to the rendezvous point and then a car zoomed up behind us with red and blue lights flashing. It overtook us and immediately increased speed, as did Peter. It's amazing what having a police escort does. Cars up ahead pulled over to let us pass and we were now doing nearly eighty miles per hour. We had to slow when we drove through towns of course but quickly speeded up. I think Peter was enjoying himself. He did have time to ask me what had happened and I explained I was working in London and had come up to York by train but my sister sounded so worried I decided on a taxi instead of waiting for the train to Bridchester. As we sped through the countryside my phone rang again. I saw it was Emma and was almost too afraid to answer it.

“Sis, it's Emma. I'm just checking where you are. What's that siren?”

“I'm in the taxi and I've got a police escort Em, but don't tell anyone. Peter the driver says we should be there in twenty minutes. How's Mum?”

“About the same. I told her you're coming and it seemed to settle her a bit. She's in Intensive Care now. I'll wait for you at the main entrance to the hospital.”

I sank back in my seat in relief. At least Mum was no worse.

In fifteen minutes we were pulling into the driveway of Bridchester Hospital. The whole trip had taken just under forty minutes. I paid Peter by card and gave him a generous tip in cash which he didn't want to take at first but I insisted. As I got out of the cab I saw my police escort. The driver waved and I waved back, but they drove away before I had a chance to thank them.

As I took my suitcase from Peter I said “Thank you so much and please thank the police for me too. You've all been brilliant.”

Then I saw Emma hurrying towards me. We hugged briefly and she said “Come on, I'll take you to the ICU.”

She almost ran me to the lift and we travelled to the first floor and then down the corridor to the Intensive Care Unit and through the swinging plastic doors. As we did so I heard an announcement on the overhead speakers “Code Blue Intensive Care”. My heart thumped. It sounded like an emergency, but who was the patient?

To be continued

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Louise Anne in proofreading the text and giving me a great deal of useful advice about modern-day Britain to incorporate in the story.