Chapter 2 – Grasping at Straws

Jo hurried as much as she could in the impenetrable, caustic yellow-colored haze. She had wrapped a damp handkerchief around her nose and mouth, trying to minimize the effects of breathing in the heavily polluted fog. Oh Peter, is it this horrible air that has made you so sick? She blinked back the tears that sprang up at the memory of her husband lying on the sofa, struggling to breathe. She realized she was grasping at straws by cabling Louis but felt she literally had no where else to turn.

She was immensely grateful that her parents had been able to take the boys. Peter missed them dreadfully, but they had talked it over and they both felt it was better for Robbie and Andrew to be with their grandparents during this stressful time. Of course, if it became necessary, she would bring the boys back to say their goodbyes; she prayed with all her heart that it wouldn't come to that. She didn't know how she would carry on if Peter died. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Despite her dark thoughts, she had to smile to herself. When she and Peter began seriously dating, she had been worried about her mum and dad's reaction to her having a beau from the East End. She needn't have worried. Peter had won her parents over very soon after she introduced him to them; her dad affectionately referred to him as 'that scruffy Cockney lad who captured my daughter's heart'.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally found the Western Union office. She said a silent prayer of thanks when she saw that they were open. She ducked inside quickly, trying to minimize the amount of fog she let in as she opened the door. The clerk looked up expectantly at her entry, as the place appeared to be deserted.

"May I help you madam?"

Jo snatched the handkerchief off her face and tried to tidy up a bit, but gave it up as a bad job. The ostensibly white handkerchief was now black with soot. "Yes, please. I'd like to send a cable."

"Right. I'll need to ask you a few questions. First where is the cable to be sent?"

Jo leaned wearily against the counter as she went through all the details with the telegraph clerk. She decided to pay the extra fee for expedited delivery, given Peter's dire condition. She thanked the clerk and headed for the door. She turned back as the man called out after her solicitously.

"Take care madam. It is quite nasty and dangerous out there!" He gave her a sad, yet oddly encouraging smile. "And I hope your husband takes a turn for the better."

"Thank you so much." She gave the clerk a weary smile of her own before she pushed the door open and stepped out into the poisonous miasma that passed for air. She had no choice but to clutch the dirty handkerchief to her face as she slowly made her way to the chemist's shop a few doors down. She intended to purchase a few more items to help Peter cope as she awaited word from Louis.

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After Jo left, Mavis re-stoked the fire and then returned to sit on the end of the sofa at Peter's feet. She clearly heard his chest rattling with every breath, and she scrubbed at her eyes, wiping away the tears that filled them. She thought she heard him trying to speak and leaned down close to hear his labored whispers.

"So...tired...mates...so...tired...please...just let...me...go..."

She reached over and gently caressed his face. "Shhh, brother. Quiet now. Yer gonna be fine. You 'ang on Peter luv. 'ang on." She kept up the litany until he gradually quieted and appeared to relapse back into sleep. Mavis got up and headed to the kitchen for more cold water. She came back and sat on the floor in front of the sofa. She reached over to bathe her brother's face with the fresh, cold water then leaned back against the sofa, anxiously awaiting Jo's return. Peter's words had made no sense to her, but they nonetheless sent her mind reeling back seven years earlier to the time when she thought she would lose him forever.

Mavis would always remember the day the call came. The officious voice at the other end calmly told her that RAF Corporal Peter Newkirk had been airlifted from Germany to the 136th Station Hospital at Acton, Sudbury. She had no way to get there at the time and informed the caller of that with no small amount of distress. He told her that was not a problem, as Corporal Newkirk was in intensive care and not able to receive visitors at that time. He reassured her that they were doing everything possible to stabilize him so that he could be transferred to a larger hospital in London proper and that she would be contacted when the location was known. She pressed the man for further details but was told in no uncertain terms that he could provide no more information. She rang off in a shocked daze and spent the rest of the day crying uncontrollably, partly in relief that her brother was alive and back home, partly in distress from the fact that she had no idea what had happened to him. Was he wounded? Was he sick? Would he survive? How did he manage to get back to England from a POW camp? Was his camp already liberated? She had no answers to any of these questions. Peter had been her protector, provider and confidant for much of her life; her inability to see him or get any information about him made her heartsick. She had wandered aimlessly about her flat, sobbing and constantly murmuring "You 'ang on Peter, you just 'ang on" to no one but herself.

Jo's arrival knocked Mavis out of her reverie. She got up and helped Jo with her packages, then turned to examine her, shocked at Jo's appearance. She took Jo by her shoulders.

"Blimey Jo! You're covered in…what is that? It looks like blackin' or coal dust!"

Jo nodded as she gently extricated herself from Mavis' grasp; she knelt by the sofa to check her husband's fever. "It's terrible out there Mave. Absolutely horrible!" She looked up at her sister-in-law. "He's no better I see."

Mavis shook her head sadly. "No. 'e'd wake for a bit and mutter a few words then 'e'd fall back asleep. 'e doesn't look like 'e's much worse though, other than 'is breathin'. That sounds terrible!"

Jo got to her feet and began to rummage through her purchases. She pulled out a small blue jar. "I bought some mentholatum. It should help him breathe a bit easier."

Mavis came near and took it from her. "'ere Jo, let me put this on 'is chest. You go freshen up and then try to get a little rest. You're all done in."

Jo started to protest, then gave in with a tired sigh. "You're right Mave, I am. I think we all are." She took her hat off and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. "Thank you. I'll be back in an hour or so." She leaned down to kiss Peter on the forehead before she headed to the bedroom.

Mavis tried to concentrate on staying calm as she gently massaged the metholatum on his chest. She prayed the sharp vapors would help him breathe just a little easier and give him a bit of relief. God knows he needed it. She went to the kitchen to warm a thick towel. A hot towel always helped the vapors penetrate quickly. Peter shifted uncomfortably and grunted as she placed the towel on his chest. "Shhhh brother," she soothed him. "It's for yer own good. It'll make ya feel a little better." She buttoned his shirt then wrapped him back up in the blankets. She barely heard a hoarse whisper and knelt down to hear what Peter was saying.

"Th-thanks...lil mate."

Mavis shook her head. 'e thinks 'e's back in the stalag again! She sighed heavily and sat down to bathe Peter's face with cold water. It was going to be a very long night.

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The doorbell chimed early the next morning. Danielle LeBeau answered the door and then called for her husband.

"Louis! Louis! There is a telegram for you!"

"Merci Danielle! I will be there in one moment."

She smiled apologetically at the messenger. "Please wait just a minute. He is coming."

Louis emerged from the hallway, drying his face with a towel. "Yes? You say there is a telegram for me?"

The messenger stepped forward and handed a clipboard to Louis for his signature. Louis signed and handed it back. The messenger then gave him the telegram and took his leave.

Louis looked at the telegram and then at his wife, a puzzled expression on his face. "I wonder who it could be from?"

Danielle gently nudged her husband. "Open it and find out Louis."

"Oui! Why didn't I think of that?" He leaned over and gave her a kiss. "What would I do without you my dear?"

He tore the envelope open and excitedly exclaimed, "Danielle, it is from Josephine Newkirk!"

Danielle leaned in. "How are she and Pierre doing?"

He held up a hand as he began reading the telegram. At first very pleased to receive a cable from his English friend's wife, his expression quickly fell as he read. As he finished, his stomach knotted up as the desperate memories came flooding back.

He whispered to himself, "Mon Dieu! Oh Pierre, mon pauvre ami. Not again!"

Danielle saw her husband's expression instantly change from joy to sorrow. "Louis? What is it?"

Louis turned pain-filled eyes towards his wife. "Oh Danielle, Pierre is very ill. Josephine does not know where to turn. There must be something wrong in London. All the hospitals are full and Pierre needs help badly."

"Oh Louis! What can we do?"

Louis did not need to think twice. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He took his wife's hands in his own. "Danielle, I must go to London. Do you think you can handle the business while I am away?" He and his wife ran a successful catering operation.

Danielle looked her husband in the eyes. She knew that Louis regarded his friends from the war as closer than brothers. "Of course I can. Your sisters will help if I ask. Go Louis. Go help Pierre. Please give my love to them both and to the boys."

"Merci my love. I must get dressed and go to the telegraph office. Would you please help me to pack?"

"I will begin right now. Go Louis. Help Pierre and Josephine."

He kissed her, grateful for her understanding and love, then rushed to the bedroom to dress. He decided that he needed to send two cables. In the first, he would tell Josephine to expect him no later than the next day. He formulated the text of the second cable in his mind as he dressed. Pierre required medical attention as soon as possible and Louis knew exactly who to contact to get his English friend the help he so desperately needed.