There is Nothing like a Dame A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright© 2017, 2018 & 2019 Bronwen Welsh A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl' and 'All the World's a Stage'

Chapter 58   Blood brother and sister

As soon as I returned to my car, I phone Penny Lane, Duncan Morgan's secretary, told her I was driving back to Stratford and asked if it would be possible to see Duncan. I also asked if she could pass the word to Jeffrey, the play's director, apologising and saying that I had been delayed and would be late for rehearsal.

She checked with the CEO and said he would be in his office all day, so please come to see him as soon as I arrived. I felt bad about being late and also about asking for more time off as I had always prided myself on my punctuality and reliability, but it couldn't be helped.

Arriving in Stratford, I drove straight to the theatre and walked up to the reception area of Duncan's office. Word had got out about Thomas's relapse (you can't keep a secret in the theatre) and Penny said she was so sorry to hear about it. I was only kept waiting a few minutes before Duncan opened his office door and beckoned me in. I was surprised to find that Jeremy was there too. We all sat down on the comfortable armchairs and Duncan was the first to speak.

“We've heard about what is happening with your family, but perhaps you'd like to tell us in your own words?” he said.

As succinctly as I could I told them all that had happened since I left Stratford in a hurry the previous Thursday.

“Since I have to ask for another couple of days off, I think it's only fair to you if I offer to step down from the rôle while you still have time to find someone else,” I said.

Jeremy then spoke. “Is it likely that you will need more time off after donating the bone marrow?” he asked.

“Not as far as I know, but obviously I must be ready to do anything else which might help Thomas in his recovery,” I replied.

Then Duncan spoke. “We appreciate your offer, Harriet. In fact, we anticipated you might say what you did, so we've already discussed it. Our conclusion is that since you have an understudy and particularly since your name is now a drawcard in our productions, we want you to continue in the rôle, and if you need more time off, then we are happy to give it to you. We appreciate that your nephew's health must be your first priority, we would feel the same way if one of our family members was in the same situation. If you are happy to continue in the part, we are happy that you should do so.”

I confess, that tears started in my eyes and I didn't want to draw attention to them by wiping them away, so I just said, “Thank you for your understanding and offer, gentlemen; I've already discussed the situation with my family members and they want me to continue in the production, so I am happy to do so.”

There was nothing else I could do now but wait for the summons to return to York to donate my bone marrow, so I threw myself whole-heartedly into rehearsals for the play. It was useful that I knew the whole script and was able to slip into the rôle with comparative ease. There was another advantage in that it was not a large part, but an important one nonetheless.

There was one other thing on my mind besides Thomas. That evening I returned to the apartment before Dale arrived. I won't say it was dirty or untidy, but I could see the difference since Frances had left. I had a look in the refrigerator and there wasn't much inside, just some milk, butter, marmalade and eggs. In the larder was a half-eaten loaf of bread, several days old judging by the feel of it. It was obvious that apart from breakfast, Dale was eating out. I understood that; it isn't much fun cooking for one.

I sighed. I know it wasn't my fault in any way, but it just seemed so sad that two people who loved each other found it impossible to live together. I know that every marriage starts out with optimism and not all succeed, but they were both my friends and I suppose, being a hopeless romantic, I had hoped, indeed assumed, that they would be 'happy ever after'.

Dale knew I would be there, but it was late when he arrived home and I could tell he had been drinking.

“Harriet! It's nice to see you again. I'm sorry there's not much in the frig, I've taken to eating out,” he said, trying his best to conceal that he had called in at the pub on the way home.

“It's alright, Dale, I'm not hungry,” I replied. I felt so sorry for him, but I knew that I shouldn't show it. If he was caught drink-driving that would be the end of his business.

“How is Thomas?” he asked, and I told him about me volunteering my bone marrow. By now he was sitting, or more accurately, slumped in a chair.

“I need to keep my strength up,” I said. “They don't need me at the theatre until tomorrow afternoon, so I might make a couple of casseroles in the morning and freeze one I hope you will help me eat them.”

Suddenly his face crumpled and he burst into tears. “Oh Harriet, what am I going to do? I miss her so much.”
I walked over and put my arms around him while he sobbed on my shoulder.

“I wasn't going to tell you, but today I was driving in the country and I had this urge to turn the wheel and drive straight into a tree and end it all!”

“Oh Dale!”. Now I was crying too. “Promise me you won't do that. While there's life there's hope.”

'Good heavens, now I'm talking in clichés,' I thought, but Dale had really shocked me with what he said.

He actually managed a slight smile. “Well, as you see I'm still here. It was just a passing thought.”

“Well, can you promise me not to have any more 'passing thoughts' like that?” I said. “I've told you that I'm going to donate my bone marrow in the hope that it keeps a special little boy alive. Life is a gift, it's precious. You are a special person, Dale. Can you imagine how many people would be devastated if you weren't around anymore?”

“In other words, it would be wicked of me to throw my life away,” he said.

“Precisely,” I responded, hoping that we were over that crisis.

“Alright, I promise,” he said, but I was still worried. What on earth could I do? I didn't want to leave him alone, but I had my own life to lead and I would have to return to York any day.

In fact, it was only a couple of days later that I received a telephone call to tell me that the hospital was ready to start giving Thomas the chemotherapy and radiotherapy to kill off his diseased blood cells before receiving mine. This meant that they wanted me safely in the hospital before the treatment was started. Thomas would be receiving treatment for three days and then I would have my bone marrow 'harvested'; this was the term they used and transfused into him. I notified Duncan Morgan and Jeremy and started off for York the next day.
I had one night at home with Reggie before he drove me to the hospital. This was my first hospital admission since my my drug overdose from spiked tea - something I never want to repeat..

For the days that Thomas received his chemo, I didn't feel much like a patient at all. Yes, they did check my pulse and blood pressure every few hours during the day, but most of the time I sat in a comfortable chair in my single room, fully clothed and reading books. Daytime television is really not something for a person with an ounce of intelligence. Then there were the meals; I've had better, but at least I didn't have to cook!

No, I wasn't reading Shakespeare! I decided to catch up on some of the classics I had always intended to read but never found the time for; in this case 'The Count of Monte Cristo' by Alexandre Dumas and 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Brontë. I love the old-fashioned style of the writing and can't help thinking that I could have lived quite comfortably in those days, provided that I lived in a fairly well-off family. I love the women's fashions of the Edwardian and Victorian era, and of course in my profession get to wear them sometimes. However, I am a realist and know that there were many disadvantages, like the lack of modern medicine It's easy to forget that there are still people alive who can remember a time when there were no antibiotics and an infection could be a death sentence.

During this time, I visited Thomas and Emma quite often. Poor Emma was looking so tired and strained and Thomas was being incredibly brave. He had already had a procedure in which a 'central line', a tube wider than the usual intravenous lines, had been inserted into his subclavian vein which runs under the collar bone. This was needed for the infusion of the chemotherapy and would also be used for feeding my bone marrow cells into his body.

Emma did her best to keep him distracted and his spirits up, but it was hard work and exhausting her.

One day Thomas said to me “Aunty Harriet, Mummy says you are going to give me some of your special blood to make me better.”

“Yes, that's right, Thomas,” I replied. “It means we will have something special to remember, something just the two of us did.”

“I like that,” he said.

Thank goodness, my experience as an actress helped me to hold it together, but I suddenly felt the need to excuse myself and took a few minutes time out in the corridor outside his room before I could go back inside. One of the nurses stopped and looked at me dabbing my cheeks.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes thank you. My young nephew Thomas is in that room. I'm going to donate my marrow to him and he's absolutely convinced that it will make him better.”

“Well, that's a good thing,” she replied. “The mind had incredible power over the body. I've seen it happen many times. If he believes that, it makes the chances of success so much greater.”

“Thank you, I really needed to hear that,” I replied.

Finally, we had counted down to Day Zero. I had to dress in a hospital gown and was wheeled into one operating theatre, while Thomas was taken into another one. I was given a sedative and also local anaesthetic into my pelvis to deaden the pain of the rather large needles needed to extract bone marrow. I felt minor discomfort while they were extracting the marrow – the correct term is 'aspirating', but my pain relief had it under control. After the procedure was finished, I had a dressing applied to the site and was wheeled into the recovery room for an hour or so until the effects of the sedation wore off. Then I was wheeled back to my room for a few more hours. Emma came in to see me and tell me that Thomas had been successfully infused.

“Thank you so much for what you've done,” she said, with tears in her eyes.

“Come and give me a hug,” I replied. “He's a tough little chap and he'll be alright, you'll see.”

“Oh I do hope so,” she replied and then the tears started to flow again.

I was quite worried about her. Even though Aunt Peggy was looking after the rest of the family, Emma was under enormous strain. I made up my mind to try and get her to go away on a short holiday with David when things settled down – my treat.

My marrow was infused into Thomas via the central line. We had already been told that it could take a couple of weeks before there was a significant improvement in his blood counts as a result of the infusion, so while I was able to go back to the flat later that day, Thomas was going to spend some more weeks in hospital, with his blood counts being constantly monitored.

The area on my hip was sore and bruised for a few days, but nothing I couldn't handle with the aid of some paracetamol when necessary. After one more night with Reggie, I drove down to Stratford again. I had been away for five days, although as they included the weekend, only thee were rehearsal days. Nevertheless, since there was nothing more I could do in York, for the time being, it was time for me to resume rehearsals again, as opening night was fast approaching.

I drove straight to the apartment in Stratford to leave my suitcase before going on to the theatre. As soon as I opened the front door and stepped inside I knew that something had changed.

To be continued.