Chapter 9 – Interlude (Memories)
Jo tried to mentally prepare herself as she followed Doctor McFarland to the intensive care ward. As a nurse, she knew the drill well. Scrub up and mask, especially more so here in the critical care area. The memories came flooding back; it was so very much the same as seven years previous, when she had first met Mavis and Peter. She paused for a moment to blink back tears, and McFarland gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he ushered her to Peter's bedside.
Jo's experience in medicine provided no comfort as she faced the sight of her husband lying unconscious in intensive care. It had been so much different seven years previously; she had not been so emotionally invested then, at least not at first. Back then, he was just another patient. Now, he was her whole world. He was her husband, her lover, her friend and confidant, the father of their beautiful boys. This current crisis was the first genuinely difficult challenge she and Peter had had to face as man and wife. Oh yes, there had been a bit of anxiety about money, but they both accepted the fact that the specter of poverty would more than likely haunt them for the rest of their lives. They could deal with that. After all, life doesn't depend exclusively on material possessions. They got by. There was a roof over their heads, clothes for their bodies and food on the table. Their children were healthy. They were together. They loved each other. They were happy. What more could one ask?
Actually, there was one other thing to be asked. She bowed her head and silently begged God for her husband's health to be restored. She exhaled shakily in a half sigh, half sob as she approached Peter. It was almost as if she saw him with completely different eyes now that he was here in hospital. When did he become so ashen? When did he become so frail? When did his eyes sink so deep into his face? Every breath he took sounded like a harsh, rasping groan of pain. Jo collapsed onto the chair beside the bed.
"Oh Peter!" she murmured. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, trying to compose herself. She stared at the tube that snaked up from his arm to the bags of saline and nutrients hanging from a rack attached to the bedframe. McFarland quietly approached and lifted the oxygen tent up and away so he could take his patient's vital signs. Jo winced at the bruising visible beneath the edge of the bandage that was wrapped securely around Peter's chest. The doctor completed his tasks and replaced the oxygen tent before he updated his patient's chart. He then filled a syringe and injected it into Peter's hip.
"His next round of antibiotics." McFarland explained before he stepped back and gave Jo a soft pat on the shoulder. "I'll leave you alone with him for a few minutes. I will be right outside at the nurse's station should you need me."
Jo nodded and managed a smile as the doctor left. She turned back to gaze sadly at her husband and then reached inside the oxygen tent to take his disturbingly cold hand in hers.
"Oh darling, I'm so sorry you're suffering through this again. I wish there was something I could do to spare you this pain." Jo bowed her head. Oh Peter, do you remember the last time we thought we were in real trouble? That was a right knees-up compared to now, wasn't it? She closed her eyes, remembering that chaotic and uncertain, yet at the same time, breathtaking and blissful portion of their lives.
The times had indeed been very lean, especially a year or so after the war ended. She and Peter had married in March of 1946, spending their honeymoon in Paris at Louis' invitation. By mid-August 1946, she found herself three months along in expecting their first child. She had to admit to herself that the prospect of a baby absolutely terrified her at first. They were as poor as the proverbial churchmice, having laid no money aside for emergencies. Extra money simply did not exist. Peter's health was still rather precarious. And now that she was pregnant, she worried that she would lose her situation at the hospital.
She had rehearsed how she intended to reveal the news to Peter over and over in her mind. She hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed. They had neglected to sit down and seriously discuss anything about starting a family, and here the decision was now arbitrarily made for them.
She smiled as she recalled what had happened. When she finally worked up the courage to tell Peter her news, his reaction took her breath away. His eyes widened to the point of almost being comical and then immediately filled with tears. He whispered to himself, "Blimey! I'm...I'm going to be a father? Me? Blimey!" He swept Jo up into his arms and carefully carried her to their bedroom, where he gently deposited her on the bed.
"You need to rest darlin'! I don't want anythin' to 'appen to you or our baby!" He sat on the bed beside her and leaned over to kiss her tenderly. He then nudged her shoulders, trying to get her to lie down.
"Peter!" she protested. "I'm not an invalid!" She removed his hands from her shoulders and gave him a stern mock frown.
Peter held his hands palms out towards her in a gesture of supplication. "No one said you were darlin'. But you're expectin' our child! Somethin' I never even thought in me wildest dreams would ever 'appen to me!" He hugged her gingerly, then rested his head on her shoulder.
Jo heard a barely discernable sniffling sound and she reached to tilt his head up so she could look into his eyes. "Peter? Are you all right love?"
He nodded a bit shamefacedly and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "All right? I'm more than a bit of all right darlin'. I-I'm the luckiest bloke in the world!" His grin suddenly vanished. "Wish mum would've been 'ere for this. She'da been over the moon to be a gran." He thought a further moment, his expression darkening as he dropped his face into his hands. "Oh cor! Who am I kiddin'? I don't know the first thing about bein' a good father. Look at me own Da...", he trailed off as he realized where his thoughts were taking him.
Jo reached over to gently caress his hair, as it was obvious that his emotions were running riot. She drew his head back against her shoulder and held him tight. "You just quiet that kind of talk mister! You are going to be the best father ever! I know you will!"
A heavy shuddering sigh was her only answer, followed by a faint whisper, "Oh Jo darlin', if you only knew..."
"Shush darling, shush." She struggled for something to lift him out of this sudden funk. "Peter, why don't you go call Mave and tell her she's going to be an aunt! She'll be thrilled!"
Peter perked right up at that suggestion. "Yer right darlin'. Ol' Mave'll be tickled pink!" He jumped off the bed and then stopped short. "Sorry darlin'!" He leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips and then headed out to call his sister with the good news.
He had returned immensely cheered after speaking with Mavis. He took Jo into his arms and sat her down on the sofa beside him. "I've come to a decision Jo. You'll not be standin' in the queues in your condition and that's final!"
"Oh really?" she cast a smirk in his direction. "And who, pray tell, is going to be fetching in our groceries?"
Peter put on an offended expression and gestured grandly, his hand on his chest. "Why, yours truly, who else?"
Jo shook her head. "Oh no, you're still not quite up to..." she stopped short as Peter gently placed his hand over her mouth before she finished speaking.
"I'm still the 'ead of this 'ouse aren't I?" She remained silent and he repeated, "Well, aren't I?"
Jo laughed and kissed his hand before removing it from her mouth. "Yes you are and I love it. And you." She leaned in to kiss him passionately on the lips.
"This is 'ow we got into this situation, innit?" Peter murmured as they fell into each others' arms.
Jo was startled out of her reverie when Doctor McFarland put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry Mrs. Newkirk, I must ask that you leave now." He stepped back to allow her a further bit of privacy.
She sighed and massaged Peter's hand before she reluctantly released it, tucking it back at his side within the oxygen tent. She whispered softly, "I was right, wasn't I darling? You're a wonderful father to our boys. I'm so very thankful that you are teaching them what it means to be a man. Please get well soon my love. We miss you so."
Jo slowly rose and McFarland took her arm as he accompanied her to the door.
A/N The reference to 'standing in the queues' refers to the post-war austerity program from 1945 to 1951.
