‘Playing with a new friend in the playroom. It’s down the corridor, I’ll show you.’ She hesitated, struggling to get the words out, then, ‘He’ll be very pleased to see you. He’s been asking where you were.’
Tom followed Alice to the playroom; it was big, the floor covered with toy trains, complete with railway lines, clockwork cars; a doll’s house, filled with furniture, several doll’s prams, a blackboard and chalks, a stack of jigsaws and a very well-filled bookcase, the bottom shelf packed with board games for older children. Kit had his back to the door and was engrossed in playing with a train.
‘My God,’ said Tom. ‘Lucky little blighters.’
‘Tom, don’t start,’ said Alice.
‘I’m not starting anything.’
Kit heard his father’s voice, turned from the train set, and sat on the floor, utterly still, looking up at him, his face sober and disbelieving; then he became one enormous engulfing smile, jumped up and stood hugging Tom’s knees, with yells of ‘Daddy, Daddy’. Tom picked him up and held him in silence for a while, repeatedly kissing the top of his blonde head; and then sat down, took him onto his knee, and held him very close. He looked up at Alice, and his eyes were brilliant with unshed tears.
‘I’m – sorry,’ he said, and she could hear the break in his voice. ‘So very sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said.
A nurse appeared round the door. ‘Kit, you should be in your room, having your wash, ready for bed. And then it’s time for your favourite medicine.’ She smiled at Tom. ‘You must be Mr Knelston. How nice to see you. Kit’s been missing you, hasn’t he, Mrs Knelston?’
‘Yes. Yes, he has.’
‘He’s been so brave. We haven’t heard one single complaint.’
This wasn’t quite true, Alice thought, but he had certainly complained very little, nor had there been any tears when the needle had to go into his small veins in order to take blood each day. He was brave, extremely brave. She wondered where that came from. Tom, she supposed; he had often told her of the agony of his leg wound in the desert, the nightmare journey to the field hospital and his absolute determination not to let go and yell.
It didn’t occur to her that she was actually rather brave herself.
Tom stayed for an hour or so, reading to Kit until he fell asleep, and then said he’d better go and relieve Mrs Hartley, who had had the children since breakfast time.
‘I swear Charlie’s put on about five pounds! He drains his bottle, then bangs it to show he wants more. She’s also got him guzzling Farex at bedtime, so he sleeps much later – till six this morning. Only time he cries is when I take him from her – I could murder the little sod.’
‘Tom!’ But something that might have been the beginning of a smile crossed Alice’s face. ‘And Lucy, is she all right?’
‘Also very happy. She misses you,’ he added hastily.
‘Liar,’ said Alice. This time the smile advanced a little further.
‘No, she does. Right. Well, I’ve got to go down to Purbridge every day this week but I’ll come back in the evening – we can’t leave the kids with Mrs Hartley round the clock. So I won’t be able to come over here again. When is Kit coming home?’
‘Not sure. End of the week, I think.’
‘Ah . . .’
‘No, Tom, I can’t.’
‘Of course not. That’s not what I meant at all. But this must be costing a pretty penny. Could you ask Ned to get some sort of account made up for us, please?’
‘We have talked about it. He said he’d try to keep costs down, and if there’s a real problem, we can pay in instalments.’
‘Oh, no, I’m not having any favours, Alice. Kit’s here, he’s had –’ He hesitated, then said quietly, ‘He’s had superb care, and we’ll pay for it. There’s some money in our savings account.’
He half smiled at her, and there was no rancour in his voice. She suddenly felt rather tearful without knowing why.
‘All right. How – how is it, down there in Purbridge?’
‘Oh – not exactly fun. Taken a bit of flak. But it could be a whole lot worse. It’s pretty basic stuff now, we’re down to just pounding the pavements, knocking on doors.’
‘Still?’
He looked at her as if she had asked if she should keep on breathing.
‘Of course. It’s not over till it’s over.’
‘But I thought you said there was no hope.’
‘I don’t think there is, but we have to be seen to be hopeful still, working at it, otherwise all the people who’ve worked so hard, and indeed all the people who are going to vote for us, will feel betrayed.’
Alice met his eyes. ‘I’m – well, I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, as he had earlier. ‘I’m sorry as well I can’t come on Thursday, Tom. But I can’t leave Kit.’
‘Of course you can’t. I understand. But now I must go. Goodnight, Alice.’
The week struggled on. Things got better than Tom had hoped, never as bad as he had feared. On Monday the Daily Mail picked up the story and in a double-page spread awarding vices and virtues to the candidates countrywide, labelled Tom Greatest Hypocrite. After that the story lost its legs and another victim was sought and indeed found.
Mrs Hartley decided to take Lucy and Charlie in to the hospital the next day. Charlie was fine, but Lucy was missing Alice badly. She let herself into the Knelston house to use their telephone, as Tom had told her to, and rang Alice at St Mary’s; would that be all right?
Alice said it would be wonderful, and offered to pay for a taxi for her, but Mrs Hartley pooh-poohed the idea, and said it would be fun, they’d sit upstairs on the bus, Lucy would love it and Charlie would just sleep through it. Alice thanked her and wondered miserably if Charlie’s normal behaviour was her fault as a mother, rather than some quirk of his genetic make-up. She feared the former.
They arrived just before lunchtime. Lucy hurled herself into her mother’s arms and clung to her, kissing her rapturously; Charlie woke up, took one look at Alice, and started to cry.
‘Well, I never,’ said Mrs Hartley, ‘we don’t hear that very often. I’ll give him a bottle, he’s probably hungry. Unless you’d like to, Mrs Knelston,’ she added hastily. Alice said equally hastily that she’d rather Mrs Hartley did it.
‘And please call me Alice.’
A pretty nurse came in and offered them all lunch but Mrs Hartley had brought sandwiches; was there no end to her wonderfulness, Alice thought.
Kit, delighted by the reunion with his sister, bore her off to the playroom; Alice smiled at Mrs Hartley.
‘I don’t know what we’d have done without you,’ she said. ‘I just can’t thank you enough.’
Mrs Hartley said there was no need to thank her, it had been nice to be of use, and anyway, what a time of it they’d had. ‘So frightening for you. What an upheaval in Kit’s little life, and Mr Knelston said at one stage that you could have lost him. Doesn’t bear thinking about. And it doesn’t say a lot for Dr Redmond, does it? Not spotting something so dangerous.’
‘Well, it is very rare,’ said Alice carefully.
‘Even so. He could have died, poor little mite. He looks quite well today, though. There now, Charlie’s gone to sleep, I thought he would. My goodness, what an upheaval – there’s been a lot going on our end, as well, I can tell you.’