‘There, it’s all over, you have a lovely little boy.’
Ella could hardly hear the midwife over the wails of her son. Her heart swelled, all memory of the dreadful pain she’d been in fading, and she was filled with a feeling of such deep, consuming love for the tiny bundle in her arms that tears of joy flowed down her cheeks.
‘That’s a sight for sore eyes. Now, let me take him and sort him out, then I’ll see to you. After that, I will let your husband in. He’s pestered the life out of me every time I put my head out of the door.’
Ella smiled. Paulo had been in a state of anxiety lately. With her time getting nearer, he’d gone from being a happy, carefree father-to-be to a nervous wreck, wondering if he was up to the job of being a parent and worrying constantly about her. She’d laughed at him most of the time, but his health had concerned her, and she hadn’t felt able to give him the support he needed.
Now she would soon recover, and everything would get back to normal. Their normal, anyway, as poor Paulo had been more or less stuck in the house, with Ella being unable to push his chair or drive her car. More than once she’d felt glad of the garden, for at least he’d been able to get some air and occupy himself for short periods of time.
‘Was it the gas that your husband suffered? I’ve been worried about him for the last few hours. What treatment is he having?’
‘Very little. Our doctor has the theory that only fresh air can help. And yes, Paulo was in a gas attack.’
‘I think he needs a little more than fresh air. There’s a doctor I worked with during the war, before I took up district midwifery. I met him again recently, and he told me he’d gone on to specialize in respiratory illnesses. I think he might be able to help your husband. He has a private practice, as well as working in the hospital. A very clever man and a lovely person. I’ll leave you his address.’
A small kernel of hope was planted in Ella, tempered with the knowledge that there was little that could be done – other than a miracle. But if this doctor could give Paulo some relief from his pain, and help him to breathe more easily, that would be enough.
When Paulo came into the room, her heart dropped. The stress he’d been through during her labour had taken its toll on him. The nurse wheeled him in in his chair, which was an indication of the weakness of his body, because she knew that if he could, he would have walked in to greet his son. Trying to keep the concern out of her voice, she welcomed him. ‘Darling, we have a son! A son, can you believe it?’
‘I – I’m so proud of you, mon amour. Merci, you have made me a happy man, my darling.’
Ella’s smile widened as the nurse put their little boy into Paulo’s lap. When Paulo looked up, his face was lit with joy, and yet wet with tears. ‘Mon fils – my son.’ He quickly handed the baby back to Ella, as his stick-thin body bent over and was convulsed with hacking coughs that racked him.
The nurse ran out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a small bottle of oxygen. ‘I carry this with me. It will help him.’ As she said this, she placed the mask over Paulo’s nose and mouth, and within a short time he relaxed back. ‘There, that’s better, sir. I think you should have an oxygen cylinder in the house, Mrs Rennaise. But if you go and see Dr Warner – the doctor I mentioned just now – I’m sure he will sort that out for you.’
‘Thank you, Nurse, thank you. Would you be kind enough to push Paulo near me?’
‘I will, love. There you go. Now that all’s well here, I’ve to see a lady around the corner, so I’ll come back in about twenty minutes. In the meantime keep the mask on, sir, and you’ll feel a lot better.’
Paulo nodded. His breathing was far less laboured now. When the nurse reached the door, she turned and gave them a pitying smile. Reality crashed into Ella. The complacency that had settled in her of late, and her acceptance of everything as her lot, dissolved. She’d even kidded herself that the happiness they had, despite their difficulties, could go on for a long time; that they would manage somehow. Now, she looked at her failing Paulo and wondered what the future had in store for them?
She’d brushed these thoughts away before and had made the most of everything. Well, that’s what she would do now. I have to . . . yes, I have to. I have to make this a happy, living home, not a dying one.
With this thought, she smiled through her tears. ‘Oh, Paulo, I can’t believe it . . . We have a son! What shall we call him? Somehow the names we discussed don’t suit him. Look at him: a shock of black hair like yours, and your nose. He needs a dashing name to go with his good looks.’
Through the mask Paulo’s voice was muted, but she could hear the tone of amusement as he said, ‘A – a dashing name? What is this?’
‘Ha, it’s a name like Romeo, or Casanova!’
Paulo’s laugh made him cough, but the sound of it was a salve to her pain.
She laughed with him. ‘Well, they are a bit much, but it gives you an idea of the name he needs. He’s not a plain Joe.’
‘Oh, my Ella, you are funny. A dashing name it is, then. But not those you have suggested! Ha, you’ll have him laughed at when he attends school. Ella, I – I may not be here then, I—’
‘No, Paulo! We have never spoken like that, and we mustn’t start now. There is a doctor who may be able to help. As soon as I am up and about, we’ll go and see him. Now, a name for our son. How about a French name? They always conjure up dashing, handsome men.’
Paulo laughed again and this time, to Ella’s relief, he didn’t cough. It was a sign that he wasn’t short of oxygen in his body. I don’t care about convention; in a couple of days I’m out of this bed and going to see this doctor, no matter what anyone says. With this decided, Ella turned her mind back to choosing a name.
‘Christophe. I would love him to be called that. It was the name of mon père.’
‘Oh, that’s perfect, Paulo – it suits him and is very dashing. One day you will have to tell me more about our baby’s grandparents, as he will need to know.’ As if Christophe agreed, he made a gurgling sound. They both laughed and Ella was glad, as it softened the fact that she’d unwittingly referred to a time when Paulo might no longer be with them.
Dr Warner sat, tugging his long ginger beard. His eyes were a piercing blue, which made you feel that he could see into your soul.
‘I have to tell you that any intervention I make may not prolong the time you have, Paulo’ – the doctor had insisted on first names – ‘but I can make you more comfortable, and even possibly more active. Your main problem is lack of oxygen, but also that your body isn’t using what little it is getting to best advantage. I would recommend that you have an oxygen tank at home, and that you use it most of the time. I also have had a great deal of success with patients who take on certain exercises, and with an oil-based ointment that I have concocted. This oil, rubbed directly into your chest wall twice a day, will give you relief of the tightness you feel, and will, after a time, allow you to expand your lungs more. However, some of the ingredients are very difficult to get hold of, and so they come at a premium, I’m afraid.’
‘We’ll take it and will do everything you suggest, Doctor, won’t we, Paulo?’
Paulo smiled. The effort of getting here, and the examination and tests he’d endured, had taken their toll on him.
‘Right. Oxygen is to be fitted, now. I have some straps on my tanks, and an extra-long tube from the tank to the mask. This is to allow the tank to be fitted onto your chair. I see that you have a shelf under your seat – no doubt very useful for shopping, but I think that’s an excellent place to rest the tank. I’ll get my assistant to fetch me the equipment and fit it for you. The oil, I have here.’ He reached into a drawer of a cabinet that contained many small drawers and brought out a jar. ‘This will last you a week. Now, as for the exercises, I will make an appointment for you next week, when you should be feeling a lot better. You will need to come in here for these, in the first instance. But the two of you could probably manage them at home after that.’
Once outside, Ella was reeling from shock at the amount she’d had to write on the cheque, to cover the doctor’s bill. Could they afford this treatment? But then a more pressing worry took precedence in her mind, as the weight of the chair with the oxygen attached was taking all the strength she had.
Christophe had slept right through the consultation, but now he decided it was his turn to seek attention. Paulo held him on his lap, but struggled to soothe him.
Sweat poured from Ella, as she desperately made for a park that she knew was nearby. Finding a bench, she sat for a moment, trying to get her breath. When she did, she laughed out loud. ‘What a pair! Oh, Paulo, we sit gasping for breath together. Not many couples do that as a hobby.’
Paulo pulled his mask down and smiled, but it was a smile that soon disappeared. ‘Ella, my darling. There are to be no more walks out – not with the oxygen tank. What was the doctor thinking of? How are we to get home?’
‘We will, but first I will have to put little Christophe inside my coat and feed him. We’ll just have to hope that no one comes by and sees me, or we may find ourselves in the police station.’
Keeping her humour up was becoming more and more difficult for Ella. As she wrapped Christophe into her coat, the chilly spring air crept inside with him. She shivered. Everything had become too much for her. She needed help. She needed someone to talk to. Her mind went to Flors and Mags. She hadn’t thought of them for a long time. How come more than a year has passed since the war ended and I haven’t looked them up? But then, what a year! How I’ve survived this far, I don’t know. More ripples have happened. Paddy has gone from my life, and Connie, Alan and Daniel . . .
She looked over at Paulo; his head was leaning to one side, his eyes had closed and his face looked sunken. Ella’s worries piled in on her.
Nanny, too, was failing. And recently the nursing home had increased its costs. Not to mention the cost of having a midwife attend the childbirth, another expense; and now this. The doctor had charged the huge sum of thirty pounds! And she would need to pay more for the future visits they had planned, and for further supplies of oxygen and oil. How am I to manage?
Christophe became detached and yelled out at that moment. Ella knew that her distress was filtering through to him. She reattached him to her breast and decided not to worry. The next day she would go to the bank, and then find her way to Flora’s. She still had her address somewhere. It was in Stepney, she was sure of that.
Feeling better, Ella finished feeding Christophe and, keeping him wrapped up against the March wind, gave his back a few rubs. She was rewarded with a loud burp. Smiling, she said, ‘Time to get going, darling.’
Paulo shivered. ‘It’s very cold, Ella.’
Only just feeling the cold herself, as the exertion of pushing Paulo had made her sweat, Ella pulled his blanket up with her free hand and wrapped it round him. ‘You only need one free arm, darling, to hold Christophe – can you manage that?’
The effort it took for Paulo to do this was devastating to Ella. She drew in a deep breath. No matter what it took, she would find the money for his treatment. She had to.