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Mr Grant rested like a log in bed. All that was alive was his eyes. Charley stammered a good evening, adding a word about how well he was looking.

“Oh, he’s not,” Mrs Grant broke in, “he’ll never be better the doctor says,” she announced loudly. “This is John, — I mean Charley Summers, dear,” she went on in the same tone of voice. “Isn’t it kind to pay you a visit?” Mr Grant did not even blink. His shining blue eyes expressed nothing, although there was a sort of look of astonishment upon the whole frozen face.

It was some time before Charley could make his escape. In spite of the warning she had given, Mrs Grant carried on in front of her helpless spouse as if he were deaf, and the man could give no sign that he heard. Charley supposed this was a judgement on Mr Grant, but found it painful to watch, it was so innocently carried out; although Mrs Grant’s remarks on his hopeless state must come, it was plain, from an excess of feeling for her Gerald. And, when he did leave, he was not to get away at once, because he had hardly reached the bottom of the front garden before a car, with “Doctor” on the windshield, drew up at the gate.

“Good afternoon, young fellow,” the elderly man inside said to Charley as he got out. Summers halted in his tracks, as though challenged. “You’ve been visiting here, I take it? I wonder if I might have a word. About Mrs Grant,” he said.

Charley waited.

“Quite impossible to get help these days,” the doctor explained. “And it’s too much for her. She has to do everything, you know.”

“Can he hear?” Charley asked.

“What d’you mean, can he hear? Of course he can. I trust you haven’t been saying one damn thing after another in front of my patient.”

“I have not,” Charley assured him, but with a great look of guilt.

“That’s right,” the doctor said, suspiciously. “I should hope not, indeed. No, what I wanted to impress upon you is, that we can’t go on like this, with Mrs Grant carrying everything on her own shoulders. I take it you’re a relative? Because the burden’s too much for her.”

“When I was down, before he fell ill, she didn’t recognize me,” Charley said.

“Perfectly natural in her condition at the time,” the doctor replied. “I’ve a number of cases like that, now. Comes from the bombing. After you’ve reached a certain age, as you’ll find when you get there, nature provides her own defence, she’s merciful, she draws a blackout over what she doesn’t want remembered. Or rather the nervous system rejects what is surplus to its immediate requirement. But in a crisis everything is thrown overboard, of course. She recognized you today because of the shock Mr Grant’s health has been to her system. But we’ve got to get assistance to her, or she may slip back.”

Charley had not understood. “Yes,” he said.

“Very well, that’s settled then, I’ll rely on you,” the doctor called to Charley, who was already moving away. “Excuse me,” he added, “but what’s the matter with your right foot?”

“It’s off,” Charley meekly explained. “Artificial leg.”

“Really?” the doctor said. “I thought I noticed something.”

He rang Nance to fix a date, then went to tea. He found quite a spread, fried fish warmed up, and an imitation chocolate cake she had wangled somewhere.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” he said.

“It’s no trouble. I couldn’t let you travel all that distance to Redham for nothing,” she replied. The truth was, her free time lay lonely on her. She was glad, now, to have him round.

“It’s not so good,” he began, and gave a description of how he had found Mr Grant. She listened, seeming to be unmoved. “And there she was, after pretty nearly telling me not to speak a word in front of him which he wouldn’t wish to hear, there she was on about he could never get well.” His indignation made Charley speak out. “What d’you make of that? I felt such a twirp in front of the doctor.”

“She couldn’t help herself, poor thing,” Miss Whitmore explained. “It was too much, you see. Don’t distress yourself. You needn’t suppose he would listen. Anyway we shall never know now, will we? But that’s bad about his health then, Charley, isn’t it?”

“Certainly is,” Mr Summers replied.

“I reckon I ought to drop in on them one day, don’t you?” she said. “I could lend a hand.”

“He wouldn’t care for that,” Charley objected. “From what he told me the other time, he was aiming to keep you dark.”

“But he sent you to see me, Charley?”

“That’s as may be,” Mr Summers took her up, “yet he’d never have let it out to Mrs Grant.”

“Won’t you have the other piece of fish?” she asked. “Go on. I couldn’t. We have a lovely canteen, really, where I work. Well, you can’t tell how much he’s let on to her, can you? There’s not a great deal wives don’t get to know, believe me.”

“Yes,” he said, his mouth full, “you’ve had experience.”

If he had been looking he would have seen her eyes fill with tears at this, but he wasn’t.

“Anyway,” she said, “we’ll never learn now about my dad, if he doesn’t get better.”

“Pretty rotten, though, to upset him, the shape he’s in at the moment.”

“Why, how d’you mean?” she asked.

“By you going down,” he explained.

“Yes, but I can’t just leave her to herself, can I?” she said. “With dad like that? The only bother is Panzer.”

“The cat?”

“My darling puss.”

“But you wouldn’t be there all that amount of time.”

“Oh well, you know how it is,” she said, “either you do a thing properly or not at all. I was thinking I ought to go each day, after what you’ve told me. Why, your cup’s empty. Why didn’t you ask? If you don’t speak up for yourself there’s no one will do it for you, you know. Sitting with an empty cup, indeed.”

“You are certainly looking after me,” he said.

“And how do you manage at your lodgings?” she enquired. “D’you get your rations? I know those old landladies all right.”

“Oh there’s nothing of that sort about Mrs Frazier,” he told her. “Which reminds me. Mrs Grant said Mrs Frazier used to know your mother.”

“It’s news to me,” she replied, uninterested. “Well I hope I know where my responsibility lies. I’ll go down to Redham to find that poor woman, and see if I can’t lend a hand round the house.”

“What about your job?”

“Who, me? I’m on nights, as I told you. I’ve got the daylight hours to myself.”

He felt absolutely comfortable. He could be free, or so he was beginning to imagine, when in her company.

“You’re not like some, then,” he said.

“What d’you mean? Of course I’m not. There’s not everyone who’s on night work.”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant who’ll take their coats off. I had a girl in my office who wasn’t fit even to copy a thing down.”

“You explained about her.”

“I did? Excuse us, I don’t think so?”

“Wasn’t she the girl you took away with you over the August?” She was laughing at him as she asked this. He ruefully laughed back.

“There you are,” he said.

“I’m not,” she said, “but you are,” and pleasantly laughed some more.

He could not get over how easy all this was.

“No, about Redham now, you can’t tell what effect you might have on his health when he sees you,” he said.

“You’re a man, so you think of him. I’m a woman, and I consider her. You don’t want ’em both to fall into neglect, surely? I’ve a responsibility to those two.”