Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
Kate felt that she would get on well with Mrs Morton, she had all the qualities of a good country woman even though she lived in the town.
When Albert arrived home, he needed a good wash before eating his dinner.
Railway plate-laying was dirty work. Kate was pleased with the cottage pie she’d made.
It tasted good and they spent their first evening in 51, Queen’s Road telling each other of their first impressions of Fareham and its people.
Albert’s strong physique and attention to detail made him an efficient worker.
He could work longer hours and lift heavier loads than most of the other plate-layers, making him a valued member of the team.
The ganger often chose Albert to do the more difficult jobs.
When other men failed to shift stubborn fixing bolts or heave a sleeper into place, he would call for Albert.
But the ganger was not a soft-hearted man.
He could be ruthless in dismissing men who didn’t pull their weight.
The first signs of Kate being unwell came after only four weeks of them arriving in Fareham.
Kate had decided to take Ronnie down to the waterfront to look at the boats.
She wrapped him up warmly, criss-crossing a scarf around his chest to protect him from the winds that often swept up the river and wound their way up and down the streets.
It was late October and, although the sun shone brightly, Kate couldn’t get warm.
After just a short while of walking up and down the quay and throwing some bread to the swans, she began to shiver.
The voices of the men, calling to each other on the boats, echoed in her head and Ronnie’s squeals of delight at seeing the fishing boats unload their catch made her ears ring and her head pound.
She suddenly came over hot and felt the sweat pooling under her arms. Her mouth was dry and she felt the need to sit down.
She leaned on a low wall and tried to breathe deeply but the air felt sharp in her lungs.
‘Ronnie, come here,’ she said. ‘We must go now.’
Kate reached out her hand and Ronnie took it but began pulling in the direction of the crates.
‘No, Ronnie, we have to go now, Mummy’s sick,’ Kate tried to explain to him.
They managed to walk back home but every step leached more strength from Kate’s body. Every so often Ronnie stopped and held his arms up to Kate. ‘Carry, Mamma, carry,’ he pleaded. But Kate did not have the energy.
Once inside the house, the two of them climbed the stairs. Kate lay down with her son on the bed and they both drifted off to sleep. Ronnie’s hands on her face were what woke her and she realized that she needed to get down to the kitchen and cook their dinner.
Mrs Morton was in the kitchen baking. She took one look at Kate and said, ‘You look dreadful, Kate. Get yourself back to bed and Ronnie here can help me with this cake mix. Are you good at stirring, Ronnie?’
‘But I need to make Albert’s dinner,’ Kate replied.
‘You leave that to me,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘I’ll just add a few more carrots and swede to the meat stew.’
When Albert arrived home that evening, he was shocked to see the shivering form of his dear wife under the bedclothes. He came straight to her bedside and placed his arm gently over her shoulders.
‘Kate,’ he whispered. ‘Kate, what’s wrong?’
When she rolled towards him he could see that his lovely Kate was racked with pain and she had a fever.
‘Everything aches,’ she said, and began to cough at the effort of speaking. Albert kissed her gently on the forehead and asked if he could get her anything.
‘Some water,’ she whispered, her voice weak.
‘Where’s Ronnie?’ he asked, bringing her the water.
‘With Mrs Morton,’ Kate replied. ‘She’s made your dinner too, bless her.’
Albert asked if he could bring her some, but she said she couldn’t stomach it.
‘She looks really poorly,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘I can look out for them both tomorrow if you like. You need to go to work.’
Albert thanked Mrs Morton for her understanding.
He couldn’t risk asking for time off to look after his wife.
He had to report for work as usual, despite his worries for his Kate.
He couldn’t be late either, the ganger was a stickler for punctuality.
What should he do? There was talk of the Spanish Flu at work.
Might she have caught that from somewhere?
After a very restless night with Kate tossing and turning and her body burning against his, Albert reluctantly decided he must leave her.
He kissed his wife gently on the forehead and roused himself to prepare for the day and walk the two miles to work.
He made himself a cup of tea and took one to Kate in bed.
Ronnie was still sleeping and he carefully pulled the blankets up over him.
He sliced the bread slowly and carefully.
It had to last two more days. Taking his bread and cheese, he closed the door quietly.
He hated leaving her but he needed to keep this job. There were plenty of other men who would step into his shoes if he didn’t show willing. He was desperately worried about Kate and leaving her on her own. All he could do was pray for her recovery.
The call came halfway through the afternoon. He was in the plate-layer’s hut, taking a well-earned break when he heard the news.
‘Albert,’ the ganger said. ‘There’s a message for you arrived back at the depot. Your wife’s been taken bad and you need to get home in a hurry.’
Albert left his bread and cheese on the bench and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, his heart pounding and sweat forming on his forehead. She had to be all right.