Charlotte held herself together all the way to Bristol. She was determined not to cry. If she once started she might never stop and she knew she had to be brave for Billy. He wouldn’t want to see her with a tear-streaked face. If he were asleep when she got to the hospital she would simply sit by his bed and be ready with a smile when he woke. She didn’t ask any questions, she simply sat beside Henry Masters in the car, staring out into the darkness. Henry, recognising her need to try and assimilate what she’d just heard, drove in silence. On this cold Boxing Day evening there was almost no traffic on the roads until they reached the outskirts of the city and they were nearing the hospital before Charlotte suddenly asked, ‘Henry, where’s Rustler? What’s happened to him?’
‘I’m afraid he broke his legs,’ answered Henry. ‘They put him out of his misery.’
When they reached the hospital they went straight to Casualty, where they found John, sitting, waiting. When they walked in he got to his feet and enfolded Charlotte in his arms. For a long moment he held her and then, keeping hold of her hand, sat back down and she sat down beside him. Dr Masters raised an interrogatory eyebrow.
‘They’ve taken him for X-rays,’ John said. ‘The doctor said they’d know more when they’d seen those.’
‘No change in the ambulance?’
John shook his head. ‘I did what you said, Henry, and talked to him all the way.’
‘That was good,’ said Henry. ‘Now it’s just a question of waiting to see what they’ve found. I don’t suppose it’ll be long.’
‘You’ve told Margaret, I suppose.’
‘Yes, they were all at the farm. She and Caroline are looking after the children. When you’re ready to go, I’ll drive you home.’
‘They put him in that end cubicle when we got here,’ John said. ‘It’s full of the latest stuff. The nurse told me he’d be brought back there when they’d finished. Think I’ll wait until we hear something.’
They sat in silence, waiting for Billy’s return. A nurse came and spoke to them and told Charlotte that she’d be able to sit with Billy once he was comfortable.
‘Dr Smart’ll come and talk to you as soon as he knows anything. He told me your husband wouldn’t be going up to the ward straight away. We’ll have to keep a very close eye on him for a while and that’s easier down here. Would you like a drink of tea? I could make some for you in the ward kitchen.’
Charlotte shook her head, the thought of swallowing anything seemed impossible, and the two men declined as well.
It seemed an age before the doors swung open and two porters wheeled Billy in on a trolley. He was taken into the end cubicle where the nurse joined them. Not long after, the doors opened again and a doctor came in. He walked across to where the three of them were sitting.
John got to his feet. ‘Doctor, this is my daughter-in-law, Billy’s wife.’
‘Dr Smart,’ said the doctor, extending a hand to Charlotte. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come into the office so we can have a chat.’
Charlotte stood up and followed him in to a glassed-off office at the end of the ward. At the door she said, ‘Come too, Gramp, and you, Henry.’
‘We’ve had a look at Billy’s X-rays,’ said Dr Smart when they were all inside. ‘He’s got a couple of broken ribs and his arm is broken in two places. Those things will heal. What concerns us is the injury to his head. He’s fractured his skull, low down at its base. That has crushed the spinal cord, and the fracture has spread outward and upward. I have to tell you that I’m afraid there is little or nothing we can do for this.’
Charlotte’s hand went to her mouth, stifling a cry of anguish. Dr Smart looked at her with compassion, knowing what his words were telling her.
‘Is he going to die?’ She asked the question John dared not ask and to which Henry already knew the answer.
‘I can’t say, for sure,’ replied Dr Smart. ‘All I can tell you is that he’s deeply unconscious. We shall monitor that to see if there’s any change, but in my opinion, I think he’s unlikely to recover consciousness, and if he does, he will be quadriplegic; that is, paralysed from the neck down.’
Charlotte stared at him. She had been prepared for Billy to have a long and painful recovery from his injuries, perhaps to have difficulty with walking, but she had not really faced up to the reality of just how badly he was damaged.
‘I’m sorry,’ Dr Smart said. ‘I can’t tell you more because I don’t know. We shall do our best for him.’
‘Can I see him now?’ Charlotte asked, her voice breaking on a sob.
‘Of course,’ replied the doctor. ‘Come with me.’ He led the way to the cubicle where Billy lay and stood aside to let her in.
Charlotte stood in the doorway and looked at her Billy, dressed in a hospital gown, lying motionless on the bed. His eyes were closed and his face was the colour of alabaster, blotched with purple bruises, and there was a gauze dressing across one cheek. One of his arms was in plaster, and a drip line went into the other. His head rested on a pillow, supported by small pillows on either side.
The tears she had fought for so long welled in her eyes and flooded silently down her cheeks. After a long moment she stepped forwards and took a seat at the side of the bed. She took his uninjured hand in hers and raised it to her wet cheek. His skin was warm against her own; somehow she’d expected it to be cold. She heard John’s voice outside the cubicle. He’d said he was going home to Margaret when they’d spoken to the doctor. She gently replaced Billy’s hand on the bed and having dried her eyes and cheeks, she went back through the curtains.
‘Come in and see him,’ she said softly. John nodded and edged past her to the bedside.
She could hear him murmuring to Billy, though not the words he said, and she hoped that somewhere, deep inside, Billy could hear his father’s voice and knew he was there.
‘Are you going to take John home now?’ she asked Henry. ‘I’m not coming. I’m going to stay here, with Billy.’
‘Of course you are,’ replied Henry. ‘I’ll take John back and then I’ll bring them both here in the morning. Don’t worry about the children. Caroline’ll take care of them while Margaret’s with Billy.’ He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Be brave, Charlotte, brave as you’ve always been.’
Charlotte nodded wordlessly and as John emerged from the cubicle, she went back in and took her place at the side of the bed.
‘Billy,’ she whispered. ‘I’m here. Don’t leave me. Whatever we have to face, we can face together. I need you, Billy. The children need you. How will Johnny learn to ride properly without you? Edie needs her daddy, Billy. Don’t leave us, my darling. Stay with us and watch your children grow.’
She continued to hold his hand, smoothing his skin with her fingers. Can he feel this? she wondered. Remembering Henry had told John to keep talking to him, Charlotte continued to talk to Billy, lying so unresponsive on the bed.
‘We had a lovely afternoon,’ she told him. ‘We all had dinner at the farm and Marjorie Bellinger came too. Your mother found your old snakes and ladders board; Johnny soon got the hang of that and we played it most of the afternoon. He’ll want to play with you when you get home again.’
The curtain was pulled aside and the doctor came in. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘I just need to check his reflexes.’ Charlotte watched as he lifted Billy’s lids and shone light into his eyes; saw him pinch his ears. Billy didn’t move.
Beyond the curtains came the sounds of people coming and going as the rest of Casualty went on round her, other people with problems of their own, but in the cubicle all she could hear was Billy’s rapid, shallow breathing.
When the doctor had disappeared again, Charlotte continued to talk. She reminded Billy of their life together; how they’d first kissed at the summer dance in the village back in 1942; how they’d climbed through the wreckage of a bombed house to rescue a woman and her baby; how Billy had nearly been killed as the building collapsed round him. ‘You survived that, Billy,’ she told him firmly. ‘You can survive this. Come on, my darling, come back to me.’
She spoke of their wedding day; of the day Johnny was born and Billy’d first held his son in his arms, afraid he might break! ‘Edie’s going to be beautiful when she grows up,’ she told him. ‘You’ll be so proud at her wedding.’
The doctor came in twice more, each time smiling encouragingly at Charlotte. ‘You should think of going home and getting some sleep,’ he said the third time.
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, I’m not tired. I’ll just sit here with Billy.’ But she was tired and without meaning to she began to doze, jerking herself awake each time she found her head drooping towards the bed. Forcing herself to stay awake, she continued to hold his hand cradled in hers. Outside, the sounds died away, and the nurse they had seen before put her head through the curtains.
‘Are you all right?’ she whispered, as if she might wake Billy up.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Charlotte replied, ‘we’re fine, aren’t we, Billy?’
‘That’s good,’ said the nurse and went away again.
Silence slipped round them, Billy and Charlotte. Still stroking his hand, Charlotte suddenly recognised it for what it was. The silence of death. Billy was no longer breathing. Though he hadn’t been moving, a new, deep stillness settled over them and she knew that her Billy had left her. She and her children were on their own. She laid her head down on the bed beside him and wept.
Dr Smart found her, half an hour later, with Billy’s hand still in hers, tear-streaked but now dry-eyed. She looked up as he came in and he knew for certain that there was nothing more he could have done. Billy’s death warrant had been signed from the time he’d landed, head first on a heap of age-old stone that had once been a wall.