Fifty-Five

On the first afternoon Elinor took Barry out, the weather was chill and grey, but the Princes Street shops were filled with light and whatever could be found to sell to bring some cheer to the war-weary public. Certainly, the public was keen enough to go shopping and Elinor found it no easy task steering Barry’s wheelchair through the crowds.

‘Are you sure I’m no’ too heavy for you?’ Barry asked, trying to look pleasant as passers-by smiled at him, murmuring such remarks as ‘Well done, laddie!’ and ‘Brave fellow, then.’

‘No, no, I’m tall and strong,’ Elinor answered, rather regretting her words, as she knew he was the one who wanted to be tall and strong, but deciding it was best to carry on talking. ‘I’m afraid there’s an awful crowd out today, but Major Henderson thinks it’s good for you to mix with folk, you see.’

‘He might think that, but all I can see are legs,’ Barry returned. ‘Everybody’s got legs – what good does that do me?’

‘You’re supposed to be looking at the shops, or the Castle, or something to cheer you up. That’s the object.’

‘How about a cup of tea, then? It’s damned cold in the street and I’ve got a few bob spending money. I’ll treat you.’

‘There’s a nice little place off George Street,’ Elinor told him, glad herself to think of being out of the cold. ‘Should be quieter there, too.’

It was remarkable how much better they both felt in a comforting warm atmosphere, with hot tea and mince pies before them and pleasant people around, all legs hidden beneath tables.

‘Oh, this is nice,’ Elinor murmured, pouring Barry more tea. ‘There are still some things to enjoy, aren’t there?’

His eyes were resting on her face, rather flushed from the cold, her eyes very bright, and he gave for once a genuine smile.

‘Aye, it’s some time since I had a mince pie, I’ll agree.’

‘I made some mince pies once, for the Christmas party our course had. They were pretty good, too.’

‘Your tutor fellow enjoy them?’

Elinor looked down. ‘He did, as a matter of fact.’

‘What happened to him, then? Let me guess, he’s an officer somewhere?’

‘In the King’s Own Scottish Borderers. Fought in plenty of battles.’

‘You don’t need to tell me. I’ve nothing against officers, except the ones who do the planning. This fellow been wounded?’

‘Had a bullet in his knee, I believe.’

‘And he’s all right? Lucky devil.’ Barry finished the last crumb of his mince pie. ‘You keep in touch?’

‘No’ really. He’s found someone else now. A lady ambulance driver.’

‘Oh, yes, I know the sort.’

‘They do a very good job, Barry.’

‘Sure they do. Everybody does a good job. Never seem to get anywhere, that’s the trouble.’

‘Mind if I ask you, but how did you get on with the major?’ Elinor said after a pause. ‘I mean, for your first session?’

‘Och, it was just what I expected. Questions and answers and all very nice and friendly. He seems a good chap, but he’s never going to get my leg back.’

‘The main thing is to be very honest, they say, tell the doctors everything, no’ what you think they want to hear.’

‘I told him something that made him jump.’ Barry took out a packet of Woodbines. ‘Can we smoke in here?’

‘Most people are. I don’t. What did you tell him, Barry?’

‘Said when I was looking at the sea at Musselburgh on my first day out after the op, for two pins, I’d have thrown myself in.’

‘Barry, you didn’t mean it!’ Elinor had turned pale. ‘You would never do that!’

‘Sure I would,’ Barry answered carelessly, lighting a cigarette. ‘Still might. Why not, if my whole life has changed? I’m just waiting to see how things go.’

‘You never told them at Musselburgh?’

‘No, but they might have guessed. I’m described as depressed, eh? And I’m here.’

‘Major Henderson will never let you do such a terrible thing!’ Elinor cried and, leaning across the table, took Barry’s hand. ‘And neither will I!’

His eyes flashed with pleasurable fire and for a moment she saw again the old Barry, the cheerful, devil-may-care fellow she’d fallen in love with. Though no longer in love, she was deeply compassionate for him, determined to pull him back from the brink of despair, to make him see that life was still worth living. As quickly as it had appeared, the old image faded, yet there was still something of it there, some sign of a spirit that might give him the courage to go on.

‘Why, Elinor,’ he said quietly, ‘you’re quite a tonic, eh? I think it should be you doing the major’s job.’

‘I want to do what I can to help. Listen, if you get your artificial leg, you’ll be able to lead a life the same as anyone else. No’ kicking a football, but doing plenty of other things, learning new skills and all such as that. Why throw everything away, Barry? Promise me you never will.’

He took his hand from hers, drew on his cigarette.

‘Maybe later. Will that do?’

‘Have I made you feel any better?’

‘You have. This is the best afternoon I’ve had since I don’t know when.’

‘I’m glad. Maybe we’d better go back now.’

‘I’ll get the bill. Now that’s something I can do, eh?’

They returned through the darkening streets, where the shoppers were still jostling outside the lighted shops, turned at Maule’s Corner and arrived back at the Primrose.

‘Easy does it,’ said a patient who had also been out for a walk. ‘Let me help you up the ramp, eh?’

‘Thanks, that’s very kind,’ Elinor told him, as the young soldier helped her to pull Barry’s wheelchair up the ramp on the front steps.

‘Any time.’

He touched his cap and ran ahead, but as she and Barry progressed through the hall to the lift, she saw with a sinking heart that a shutter had come down once more over Barry’s face. Needing another man to help him had brought it home to him, it seemed, that he was in a wheelchair, and for a moment she thought that all her efforts to cheer him had been wasted, that he was back to what he had been. In the lift, however, his expression lightened and he smiled.

‘Elinor, that was grand,’ he said quietly. ‘When can we go out again?’