III
One of the nicest parts of travelling is coming home again. Rosalind, Carlo, Punkie and her familya€“I looked upon them all with new appreciation.
We went for Christmas to stay with Punkie in Cheshire. After that we came to London, where Rosalind had one of her friends to staya€“Pam Druce, whose mother and father we had met originally in the Canary Islands. We planned that we would go to a pantomime, and then Pam would come down to Devonshire with us till the end of the holidays.
We had a happy evening after Pam arrived, until in the small hours I was awakened by a voice saying: a€?Do you mind if I come into your bed, Mrs ChristieI feel as though I am having rather queer dreams.a€?
a€?Why, of course, Pam,a€I said. I switched the light on and she got in and lay down with a sigh. I was slightly surprised, because Pam had not struck me as being a nervous child. However, it was the most comforting thing for her, no doubt, so we both went to sleep till morning.
After the curtains were drawn and my tea brought, I switched on my light and looked at Pam. Never have I seen a face so completely covered with spots. She noticed something rather peculiar in my expression, and said: a€?You are staring at me!a€?
a€?Well,a€I said, a€?well, yes, I am.a€?
a€?Well, Ia€?m surprised too,a€said Pam. a€?How did I get into your bed?a€?
a€?You came in in the night, and said you had had some nasty dreams.a€?
a€?Did II dona€?t remember a thing about it. I couldna€?t think what I was doing in your bed.a€She paused, and then said, a€?Is there anything else the matter?a€?
a€?Well, yes,a€I said, a€?Ia€?m afraid there is. Do you know, Pam, I think youa€?ve got the measles.a€I brought a hand-glass and she examined her face. a€?Oh,a€she said, a€?I do look peculiar, dona€?t I?a€I agreed.
a€?And whata€?s going to happen, now?a€Pam asked. a€?Cana€?t I go to the theatre tonight?a€?
a€?Ia€?m afraid not,a€I said. a€?I think the first thing wea€?d better do is telephone your mother.a€I telephoned Beda Druce, who came round at once. She immediately cancelled her departure, and took Pam off. I put Rosalind into the car and drove down to Devonshire, where we would wait ten days and see whether she was going to have measles or not. The drive was not made easier by the fact that I had been vaccinated only a week previously in the leg and driving was somewhat painful. The first thing that happened at the end of the ten days was that I proceeded to have a violent headache and every sign of fever.
a€?Perhaps you are going to have the measles and not me,a€suggested Rosalind.
a€?Nonsense,a€I said. a€?I had measles very badly myself when I was fifteen.a€But I did feel slightly uneasy. People did have measles twicea€“and why should I feel so ill otherwiseI rang up my sister, and Punkie, always ready to come to the rescue, said that on receipt of a telegram she would come at once and deal with either me or Rosalind, or both, and anything else that should happen. Next day I felt worse, and Rosalind complained of having a colda€“her eyes watered and she sneezed. Punkie arrived, full of her usual enthusiasm for dealing with disasters. In due course Dr Carver was summoned and pronounced that Rosalind had the measles.
a€?And whata€?s the matter with you?a€he said. a€?You dona€?t look too well.a€I said I felt pretty dreadful, and thought I had a temperature. He put a few more searching inquiries. a€?Been vaccinated, have you?a€he said. a€?And you motored down here. Vaccinated in the leg, tooWhy werena€?t you vaccinated in the arm?a€?
a€?Because vaccination marks look so dreadful in evening dress.a€?
a€?Well therea€?s no harm being vaccinated in the leg, but ita€?s silly to motor over two hundred miles when you have had that done. Leta€?s have a look.a€He had a look. a€?Your leg is enormously swollen,a€he said. a€?Hadna€?t you realised that?a€?a€|
a€?Well, yes, I had, but I thought it was just the vaccination feeling sore.a€a€?SoreIta€?s a good deal more than that. Leta€?s take your temperature.a€He did, then exclaimed, a€?Good Lord! Havena€?t you taken it?a€?
a€?Well, I did take it yesterday, and it was 102, but I thought perhaps it would go down. I do feel a bit odd.a€?
a€?Odd! I should think you do. Ita€?s over 103 now. You lie here on your bed and wait while I fix up a few things.a€He came back to say that I was to go into a nursing home immediately and that he would send round an ambulance. I said an ambulance was nonsense. Why couldna€?t I just go in a car or a taxi?
a€?You will do as you are told,a€said Dr Carver, not perhaps quite as sure of this as he might have been. a€?Ia€?ll have a word with Mrs Watts first.a€Punkie, came in and said, a€?Ia€?ll look after Rosalind while she has the measles. Dr Carver seems to think you are in rather a bad way though. What have they donePoisoned you with the vaccination?a€Punkie packed a few necessities for me, and I lay on my bed waiting for the ambulance and wishing that I could collect my thoughts. I had a terrible feeling of being on a slab in a fishmongera€?s shop: all round me were filleted, quivering fish on ice, but at the same time I was encased in a log of wood which was on fire and smokinga€“the combination of the two was most unfortunate. Every now and then, with an enormous effort, I came out of this unpleasant nightmare, saying to myself, a€?Ia€?m just Agatha lying on my beda€“there are no fish here, no fishmongera€?s shop, and I am not a blazing log.a€However, soon I was slithering about on a slippery sheepskin, and the fishesa€heads were around me. There was one very unpleasant fish-head, I remembera€“it was a large turbot, I think, with protuberant eyes and a gaping mouth, and it looked at me in a most disagreeable way. Then the door opened and into the room came a woman in nursea€?s uniform, what appeared to be an ambulance attendant, and with them a kind of portable chair. I made a good many protestsa€“I had no intention of going anywhere in a portable chair. I could perfectly well walk downstairs and get into an ambulance. I was overborne by the nurse, saying in a snappish voice: a€?Doctora€?s orders. Now dear, just sit here and we will strap you in.a€I never remember anything more frightening than being conveyed down the flight of steep stairs to the hall. I was a good weighta€“well over eleven stonea€“and the ambulance attendant was an extaordinarily weakly young man. He and the nurse between them got me into the chair and began carrying me downstairs. The chair creaked and showed every sign of falling to pieces, and the ambulance man kept slipping and clutching at the stair-rail. The moment came when the chair did begin to disintegrate in the middle of the stairs. a€?Dear, dear, Nurse,a€panted the attendant, a€?I do believe ita€?s coming to pieces.a€?
a€?Let me out of it,a€I shouted. a€?Let me walk down.a€They had to give in. They undid the strap, I took hold of the banisters, and marched valiantly down the stairs, feeling a great deal safer and happier, and only just containing myself from saying what absolute fools I thought they were. The ambulance drove off, and I arrived at the nursing home. A pretty little probationer nurse with red hair put me to bed. The sheets were cold, but not cold enough. Visions of fish and ice began to recur, and also a blazing cauldron.
a€?Ooh!a€said the probationer nurse, looking at my leg with great interest. a€?Last time we had a leg in like that it came off on the third day.a€Fortunately, by this time I was so delirious that the words hardly registered at alla€“in any case at that moment I couldna€?t have cared less if they had cut off both my legs and arms and even my head. But it passed through my mind as the little probationer arranged the bed-clothes and tucked me in tightly that possibly she had mistaken her vocation and that her bedside manner was not going to go down well with all the patients in a hospital. Fortunately my leg did not come off on the third day. After four or five days of high fever and delirium from bad blood posioning the whole thing began to mend. I was convinced, and still believe, that some batch of vaccine had been sent out double strength. The doctors tended to believe that it was occasioned entirely by the fact that I had not been vaccinated since I was a baby, and that I had strained my leg by driving down from London. After about a week I was more or less myself again, and interested to hear over the telephone progress of Rosalinda€?s measles. They had been like Pama€?sa€“a splendid display of rash. Rosalind had much enjoyed her Auntie Punkiea€?s ministrations, and had called in a clear voice nearly every night saying: a€?Auntie Punkie! Would you like to sponge me down again like you did last nightI found it very very comforting.a€So in due course I came home, still with a large dressing on my left thigh, and we all had a cheerful convalescence together. Rosalind did not go back to school until two weeks after the opening, when she was quite herself again and strong and cheerful. I took another week, while my leg healed, and then I too departed, first to Italy and then to Rome, I could not stay there as long as I had planned, because I had to catch my boat for Beirut.