‘I think this one is on the mend,’ Doctor Phillips said as he examined her tummy. ‘Bad as it was, I think it was just a nasty tummy and sickness. I’ll give you a bottle of medicine for her, which you can fetch from my surgery – and now I’ll take a look at your mother…’
Marion followed him into her mother’s room. Ma was lying with her eyes shut, her skin cold and clammy to the touch as if she were just too weary to open her eyes. The fever had passed, but she hadn’t come out of it as Milly had.
Doctor Phillips took her pulse and then stuck his stethoscope to her chest and back. He shook his head and frowned. ‘How long has she been like this?’
‘She was sick and had the runs earlier,’ Marion said. ‘It was watery and it looked like there was some blood in it…’
‘I suppose you just cleared everything up.’ He nodded, because it wasn’t a question, it was what she would do. ‘I think Mrs Kaye might be a little more serious than your sister, Miss Kaye; she’s lost a lot of weight. I’m going to recommend that you watch over her and keep her cool – but if there is more dysentery, then keep some of it for me to see please…’
‘Yes, sir…’ Marion felt cold all over. ‘I’m due at work… in fact I’m late…’
‘Your younger sister or brother should have stayed home… or perhaps you did the right thing.’ He frowned at her. ‘Your mother may take a turn for the worse, Miss Kaye. I shall call again later today, but if you’re worried, ring me – ask a neighbour to do it or to come in while you do. Your mother must not be left alone or she might die…’
‘She won’t die – she can’t…’ Marion stared at him in horror.
‘If she is no better when I return, I shall arrange for her to be taken into the infirmary,’ he replied and wrote something on his pad. ‘Now, I’ll give this to one of your neighbours. Is anyone your particular friend?’
‘Mrs Jackson might go to the chemist if she has time…’
‘Well, you can’t, because I need you to watch these patients,’ he told her. ‘You will light a fire in your mother’s room, make sure she doesn’t get too cold, and as soon as she is able, she needs some hot tea or soup inside her… just a thin soup if you have it or milk and a drop of sugar or honey and lemons, of course; they always help if the throat is sore…’ He looked at her sternly. ‘Your mother must not be left alone while she is so ill – please understand that, Miss Kaye.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Marion said. ‘I don’t have any lemons, but we do have sugar and milk.’ Honey was a treat and wouldn’t last more than a day in this house and she only made soup when she had time. ‘I could make some soup with carrots and onions or potatoes…’
‘Yes, when Mrs Kaye is able to take food, a nice thin vegetable broth will be the very thing… no meat or anything heavy…’
Marion nodded; her heart squeezing as she looked at her mother’s pale face. Ma hadn’t moved, even the flicker of a finger or an eyelid.
‘You are quite clear about my instructions?’ Doctor Phillips asked as they went downstairs. ‘Now, I need to wash my hands please…’ His gaze moved around the room. ‘If you have carbolic, you should scrub as much as you can manage of this room, the bathroom and the kitchen. Mrs Kaye could not fight an infection in her weakened state…’
He was making her feel the house was dirty, when she cleaned and scrubbed as often as she had time. The unfairness of it stung. How was she expected to do everything? Houses like this were impossible to keep clean, whatever you did!
Marion hurriedly supplied soap, warm water from the kettle and a clean towel. The doctor washed his hands, smiled at her and then walked to the door, turning to look at her.
‘Now, a fire in Mrs Kaye’s room, warmed milk for your sister, just a little to settle her tummy – and, above all, watch your mother and get help if she takes a turn for the worse. I shall return later…’
Marion nodded and hurried to collect what she needed, taking the coal bucket, wood and paper up to her mother’s room. It didn’t seem that cold to her, but the doctor knew what he was talking about, so she lit the fire and put the guard up. She went down to the kitchen then and boiled a kettle and heated a little milk in the pan, adding some sugar to it.
Milly was still looking sorry for herself, but clearly better. She was able to take her milk and drank it slowly and carefully, then smiled sleepily at her sister, snuggled down in bed and promptly fell asleep. Marion stroked her head, smiling at her innocence, and then went next door to her mother.
She touched her mother’s hands and found they were warmer, a little moist now. Was that what the doctor had wanted, to warm her up, make her sweat out the infection, whatever it was? However, she still wasn’t moving and she didn’t answer when Marion spoke to her.
It was eleven o’clock when the back door opened and Mrs Jackson called out to her. Marion left her mother and ran down to the kitchen. Mrs Jackson had brought the medicine bottles and also a loaf of fresh bread, some oranges, a home-baked seed cake and a dish containing a casserole of something that smelled delicious.
‘I thought you might not have time to shop, so I cooked a little more for you,’ she said kindly. ‘Now, is there anythin’ more I can do for you, Marion?’
‘You’re very kind, thank you. Could you keep an eye on Ma while I nip down to the shop and ask Mr Rosen to let me use his phone to ring Harpers and tell them I shan’t be in, please?’
‘Yes, of course, love,’ her neighbour said. ‘I’ll go upstairs and look in on them both while you nip out…’
Marion snatched up her purse and raced down to the corner shop. Mr Rosen was serving a customer, but as soon as he heard about her mother, he told her to go through to his parlour and use the phone. She rang the office at Harpers and explained that her mother and sister were ill and that she hoped to be in the next day with fingers crossed. The girl who took the message was friendly enough, but Marion worried what her supervisor would think – and yet she had no choice. She couldn’t leave her mother.
She then returned to the shop to pay Mr Rosen for her call and purchase a jar of honey and six eggs, but he didn’t have any lemons in his shop.
It took her about fifteen minutes to get there, make the call and return home and when she burst into the kitchen, she discovered Mrs Jackson making a pot of tea.
‘Your ma has just woken up and asked for a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘She seems very poorly, Marion. I hadn’t noticed how thin she was gettin’ – arms almost like sticks.’ Her eyes held sympathy as she looked at Marion. ‘I’m mostly next door, Marion, and if you ever need anything, just ask. My boys are good lads and I never go short of anythin’ – there’s always a bit goin’ spare…’
Marion flushed, because she knew Mrs Jackson was being kind, but Ma hated charity and she wouldn’t even have asked for help if she’d been consulted.
‘Thank you for what you did,’ Marion said. ‘We can manage most times. Robbie always brings his wages home; I don’t earn much yet, but it helps – and Dan gives us a bit when he comes home… so does Pa…’ A few bob if there was any left after he’d been to the pub.
Mrs Jackson shook her head, her expression betraying what she thought of Marion’s father. ‘Well, I shan’t press you – but my Reggie likes you, young Marion, and he would want me to offer… so we’re always there…’
Marion felt hot all over. She thanked her neighbour but was glad when she left. She carried a tray with two cups of tea up to her mother’s room and found Ma lying back against her pillows with her eyes closed.
‘You shouldn’t have troubled Mrs Jackson…’ Ma said weakly. ‘It