BROKEN PORCELAIN II

JANUARY 1962

The colours of the hospital were pale green and grey. Pale green painted walls and slightly darker curtains around the bed. Grey metal bed frames and chairs around it. It felt as though colour had leaked from the building. Ben sat on one chair, grabbed the piped edges and swung his legs. John sat on the end of the bed and read his Beano comic.

"The old boy in the next bed snores like a hippo." said Daddy.

Ben and I sitting on bedside chairs, giggled. Twice Daddy had joked about people in the ward. Three lumpy pillows propped him up so that he could talk to us properly. His voice sounded cracked and dry. The skin on his face stretched tight and seemed to blend in with the colour of the walls. His hair, now short and completely grey, had clumps missing on one side. None of us noticed the fat nurse in a blue uniform standing by the rail at the end of the bed.

"Now, now Mr. Lancaster. Let's not be rude about the other patients, shall we?" There was a gleam in her eye and a hint of a smile on her lips. She looked straight over at me.

"And you must be the little miracle baby?"

I sat next to Ben, a bandaged hand resting in my lap, a shiny scar like a slice of ham covering the right knee. The antiseptic odour of sterile bandages and dressings that tainted the air had become a familiar part of my life since the accident eighteen months before.

"He nearly died." John looked up from his comic book. He liked telling the story and I was happy to let him. "A policeman saved him by smacking his bottom to make his heart start beating again." Ben giggled at John. "And then he stopped a train and took him to hospital."

It was true. An off duty police officer taking an afternoon stroll with his Labrador had seen me fall. His quick reaction had saved my life.

While John talked, I looked across the ward and saw Mummy listening intently to an Indian doctor who tapped a finger on his steel clipboard. Dark patches had spread under her eyes; her cheeks had become shrunken and sallow. She nodded occasionally and looked over at Daddy.

She came over and sat down in the seat opposite, her smile was thin and forced. Looking over at me, she patted the seat next to her, for me to sit with her. Since my release from hospital, she liked to keep me within her sight.

"We were helping Daddy in the allotments. Daddy's going to sue the railway company." After the accident, he had worked relentlessly, taking any overtime possible to pay a firm of solicitors to make a claim against the railway company.

"That's enough now, John." Mummy cut him short.

Daddy looked over at Mummy briefly and then at me. He gazed down and pulled at his bony fingers. They did not laugh together as much since my accident. Many times, I had wanted to tell them I was sorry but it seemed too long ago now.

"Well, you're a very lucky boy." The nurse waved a finger as she turned to go. I could never understand what people meant by that. What was so lucky about having an accident?

"Where's Mr. Robbins today?" On the last couple of visits, John had spent the hour chatting to other patients in the ward. Mr. Robbins was in the bed two down from Daddy and had spent ten years in the army. He had stories to match those of Granddad. With a noticeable effort, Daddy turned to Mummy for help.

"Mr. Robbins has gone." Mummy's voice was firm.

"Gone where?" John persisted.

"Gone home." Daddy said, and then coughed into a handkerchief.

"Don't pull at your bandages, Brian." Since Daddy had come to the hospital, Mummy talked to us as if we were grown-ups. I put my hands back down by my sides.

Daddy looked briefly into his handkerchief and said to Mummy. "Did Doctor Singh tell you?"

"Yes." She twisted the wedding ring on her finger. "I phoned Sophie. She's coming over."

Auntie Sophie, Mummy's older sister, had been helping lately while Daddy was in hospital. She had more money than we had and could afford a car. She often drove us to and from the hospital. Mummy called her a godsend.

As we left, we hugged Daddy one by one. He asked John to remain behind while the jolly nurse in the blue uniform took our hands and led us away. She had pulled back the curtain on Daddy's bed so that we could wave to him from the ward door.

On the wide stone stairs leading down to the front of the hospital, I asked. "Why is Aunt Sophie coming?"

"Because I'm going to be staying here with Daddy for the next few days. You'll all be staying with your Auntie." Mummy looked back at Daddy.

When he caught up, I could tell by Ben's face that he was not happy. But nobody said anything. None of us argued or complained. Even at that young age, we had learnt that some things were not a matter of choice.