“Thank you, Mrs. Bingham. Do give Hedy my best wishes, won’t you?”
“I shall. Please send mine to Sam. And thank you, Mrs. Godwin. I’m going to visit Hedy this afternoon and I can’t wait to tell her the good news.”
Gertie practically skipped along the corridor of the hospital later that afternoon. She could already picture Hedy’s happy face when she told her about Sam. She hoped that Nurse Willoughby was on duty since she knew she would delight in hearing that he was home safe, but as she walked onto the ward, she froze. Hedy’s bed was empty. There were no nurses in sight. She hurried back to the corridor and almost bumped into Nurse Willoughby walking the other way.
“Oh, Mrs. Bingham. I tried to telephone you earlier, but there was no reply.”
“Is something wrong?” asked Gertie, noticing that her usual genial demeanor was laced with concern.
“I think you better come with me,” she said. “Dr. Fitzroy will want to speak to you.”
“All right,” said Gertie, her heart thundering in her chest as she followed.
“Mrs. Bingham,” said the doctor. He looked even graver than usual. “I’m sorry to tell you that Miss Fischer is seriously ill. You may remember I told you that her lungs were badly damaged. I’m afraid to tell you that she has contracted pneumonia.”
“But she was recovering,” Gertie protested. “I thought she’d be coming home soon.”
“I’m sorry,” said the doctor. “Her immune system was weakened, which made her very susceptible.”
“I saw her yesterday and she seemed fine. She had that blasted cough, but she was talking to me.” Gertie’s tone grew desperate. This couldn’t be happening again. First Harry. Now Hedy. An endless cycle of loss and despair.
“Her condition worsened overnight. I am very sorry.”
“But she’ll get better. She has to get better.”
Nurse Willoughby put an arm around Gertie’s shoulders.
The doctor sighed. “She is very sick. We don’t know anything for certain at this stage, but you should prepare for the worst.”
Chapter 22
There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature.
—Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
Margery had made beetroot and cabbage soup. Even if Gertie had been hungry, she doubted she would have had the stomach for it. The smell and color were both alarming. She had been worried that her friend would insist on standing over her while she ate a bowl. Instead, Margery placed the dish on the side and set about making tea and toast, spreading it thickly with Gertie’s homemade plum jam. Gertie sat at the table, watching her move around the kitchen with comfortingly familiar efficiency.
“What if she dies, Margery?”
Margery froze as the question hung in the air. She turned to Gertie, her usual stoic expression softening into something approaching sympathy. “It doesn’t do to think about such things,” she said, placing a cup of tea in front of her along with a plate of toast.
“She means everything to me,” said Gertie. “Everything.”
Margery slid into the chair opposite. “I know, dear, which is why you must keep yourself strong for her, Gertie. It’s no good to Hedy if you fall apart.”
“I should never have left her in the shelter alone.”
“Would it have been better if you’d been buried down there with her?”
Gertie blinked. “I suppose not.”
“I suppose not too,” said Margery. “Really, Gertie. I will allow you this moment’s self-pity because you are my friend, but I will not entertain it again. It is simply not helpful in these dark times, my dear. Hedy needs you. We all do.” Gertie met her gaze with a barely discernible nod of the head. Margery patted her hand. “Jolly good. Now eat your toast before it gets cold.”
Gertie did as she was told. She knew Margery was right, and yet she felt the responsibility for Hedy yoke-like on her shoulders. She cast her mind back to when she had contracted scarlet fever as a child. Her parents never told her, of course, but Jack was quick to report, with ghoulish eyes, that he had heard their mother crying because she’d nearly died. Gertie remembered Lilian reading Little Women to her while she recuperated. For a week, they had escaped into the world of the March family. They feasted on their theatrical capers, gasped when Jo cut her hair, and held their breath when Amy fell through the ice. When they reached the part where Beth died, Lilian wrapped her arms around her daughter as they both sobbed.
“But why did Marmee let Beth go to that house with the sick children?” Gertie had wailed.
Lilian reached over to wipe Gertie’s eyes with a handkerchief. “Mothers do all they can to protect their children, but you can’t always see what’s coming. You can only do what you think is best at the time.”
Gertie nodded, leaning against her mother’s warm, soft body. “I’m all right now, Mama. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m all better.”
Lilian had folded her daughter into her arms and held her close, weeping silent tears. Only now did Gertie truly understand how her mother had felt.
Sam visited Hedy in the hospital as soon as he was able. Gertie prayed for a Sleeping Beauty moment, where the handsome prince would wake the princess from her slumber, but the hellish backdrop of war didn’t give rise to fairy-tale endings. When Gertie arrived to visit, Sam was sitting at Hedy’s bedside, holding her hand, gazing, hoping. She opened the door quietly, and as he turned, Gertie had to swallow down her shock. Sam’s young face was drawn and weathered. There was still a twinkle in his eye, but it was fainter, like a dying star in the night sky. Curse this war, thought Gertie. How dare it leave these young people so battered and bruised.
“Mrs. B,” said Sam, his voice laden with fatigue. “It’s good to see you.”
Gertie opened her arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Oh, Sam. It’s good to see you too. I just wish the circumstances were happier.”
Sam drew back and nodded. “I keep watching her face for a sign. We have to keep hoping, don’t we?”
Gertie followed his gaze to Hedy’s gentle face. “Yes, Sam. We do.”
The days melted into weeks. Gertie and Sam took turns to visit Hedy every day and would telephone each other with evening updates. Each day that Hedy lived felt like progress to Gertie. It was as if this whole war had become a constant battle to stay alive. If you survived another day, you had reason to celebrate.
One day the doctor greeted Gertie with less encouraging news. “We need Hedy to wake up soon. The longer she is unconscious, the weaker she becomes.”
Gertie stared down at Hedy as she took her usual place at her bedside. She peeled off her gloves and pressed a cool hand to Hedy’s burning forehead. She looked so peaceful, so at ease. It didn’t seem possible that she could be teetering on the brink between life and death. Gertie took a deep breath, ready to begin her daily news report.
“Hemingway seems to have got his appetite back. I caught him stealing a slice of madeira cake from the kitchen counter yesterday.” She gave a small chuckle. “He’s taken to sleeping in your room every night.” Gertie didn’t mention the fact that he was pining for her, wandering around the house like a lost soul. They both were in truth. “And Miss Snipp has a new admirer. Mr. Higgins. He’s a taxidermist of all things. According to Emily, they’re rather sweet on each other.” Gertie searched Hedy’s face for a flicker of reaction. Please come back to me, she thought. Please, Hedy. We’re running out of time. Gertie took a deep breath. “Margery is planning another Christmas revue. I spoke to Elizabeth yesterday. She sends her love of course. I think they’re enjoying life in the country. She says that Billy wants to give a reprisal of his magic show, but only if you’ll be his assistant again.” Gertie’s eyes pricked with tears. She brushed them away. “What else? Oh yes, Betty is engaged! To her American GI. She’s over the moon, as you can imagine. Daphne Godwin says she’s already saving her rations for the cake. She’s hoping that she’ll need enough for two.” Gertie took hold of Hedy’s hands. “I want her to need enough rations for two cakes, Hedy. There’s nothing I want more than that.” She bowed her forehead. “You know, when Charles first asked me to take in a child, I had my reservations. I thought I was too old, too tired, too sad after Harry died. But having you in my life has been nothing short of a miracle. You’ve taught me so much, but most of all you’ve taught me how to live again. I could never have got through this war without you. Never. You’ve been a daughter, a sister, a mother to me. Please don’t leave me now. You have so much to live for. Sam loves you. I love you. Everyone loves you, Hedy. Please. Please don’t leave us.” Gertie sobbed as she stared into Hedy’s face, praying for a flicker of life.