A Mother’s Sacrifice. Kitty Neale

take that giggle as a yes then,’ said Frank and he turned, clicked his heels in the air and bid a ‘see you all later’ to the rest of the ladies on the ward.

      Helen Atkins looked at the small bag of fruit in her hand. It wasn’t much, but her part-time cleaning job didn’t pay very well and the two apples were all she could stretch to. Still, she reasoned, Glenda had never really been one for fruit. She knew her friend well. They had grown up living next door to each other and had formed a very close bond.

      The red double-decker tram left Battersea Junction and headed along Falcon Road towards the park. From there, Helen would walk to the Free Hospital and, although she was familiar with the area, she still loved to look out at the views from the top deck.

      As the tram rumbled along the track, Helen rolled the paper ticket in her hand and remembered the last time she had been to this hospital. It had been when her father had had a funny turn, which turned out to be a stroke. He had been left disabled, and Helen now had to care for him as well as her mum, who sadly had a touch of dementia.

      Helen didn’t mind, though; she understood that it was difficult for her two elder sisters to help out much. After all, they were busy with their own families, and, although Helen doubted she would ever have children of her own, she did enjoy being her nieces’ and nephews’ favourite aunty.

      The tram conductor called out the name of the next stop, jolting Helen out of her thoughts. She patted her mousy brown hair, which she wore in a very out-of-date bun, and checked her reflection in the tram window. A few years ago, she probably would have liked to be taller, slimmer and more glamorous, but, to be honest, she thought, what would be the point now? She was content with her short, round stature; it just made her more of a cuddly aunt. And at least she avoided the attentions of the local men, especially the likes of Harry Jenkins and his mates.

      Helen shook her head at the thought of Harry Jenkins. If only Glenda had listened and not married the man. Helen had begged her not to but Glenda was blinded by love, and look where that had got her: in a hospital bed.

      As she made her way through the hospital corridors to find the ward where Glenda’s bed would be, her heart sank, dreading what sort of state she would find her best friend in. Maude had said that Glenda had fallen down the stairs and was apparently black and blue, but Helen knew the story was yet another cover-up for Harry’s violence.

      Helen turned the corner into Glenda’s ward but immediately stopped in her tracks, recognising her friend despite her battered face. Although she’d been expecting a few marks, she was shocked by what she saw. The rotten bastard, she thought, seething. Harry was probably the only person in the world whom Helen truly hated.

      ‘Helen …’ Glenda sat upright in her bed as she called and waved across the ward.

      ‘Hello, Glenda,’ said Helen, her voice full of pity.

      ‘Oh, Hel, take that look off your face, it’s not as bad as it looks.’

      It’s worse, thought Helen, feeling at a loss for words. She had always believed the adage that if you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all. ‘How are you?’ she asked Glenda, thinking that was probably the stupidest question ever.

      ‘I’m all right, thanks. I just wanna get home, I’m missing Johnnie so much. But what are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you! How did you know I was in here?’

      ‘Slow down, love. I bumped into Maude and she told me about your “accident”.’

      ‘Oh, Helen, you didn’t say anything to my parents, did you?’

      ‘No, I guessed that as usual you wouldn’t want them to know.’

      ‘With my mum the way she is, my dad has got enough on his plate. Anyway, shouldn’t you be at work?’

      ‘I would normally be, but I took the morning off. You know Mrs Cooper who lives up the road from me? She always sits with Mum and Dad when I’m at work, but I told her I was popping up to see you and she was happy to stay at mine and keep an eye on them. Now, enough about me. What really happened, Glenda? You know I don’t believe any of that codswallop about you falling down the stairs,’ Helen said, her heart going out to her friend as tears welled in Glenda’s eyes. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so direct with her, but it was time Glenda faced up to the truth once and for all.

      ‘You know what Harry’s like,’ Glenda said as she wiped her eyes. ‘He just went berserk. But he’s gone too far this time and I’ve had enough! I just don’t know what to do …’

      At last, thought Helen, the woman has finally come to her senses and realised what a disgusting pig she’s married to. ‘You know exactly what you’ve got to do, Glenda. You have to leave him!’

      ‘But it’s not as simple as that. Think about it. Where can I go and what about Johnnie? You know if I stay in Battersea Harry will find me and my life won’t be worth living. My only choice is to get well away from him, his family and the area. But how? I don’t know anyone outside of London and I haven’t got any money, Harry sees to that. I’m stuck, Helen, stuck with a man I don’t love and don’t feel safe with.’ Glenda cried softly, big, fat tears rolling down her face and onto the crisp white bed sheets.

      Helen rubbed her friend’s arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said soothingly, ‘I’ll help you think of something.’ The two women sat in silence for a minute. In reality, Helen couldn’t see a way out for Glenda either.

      Once the morning visiting hour was over and lunch was out of the way, Frank returned to the ward, eager to take the patients out for their little treat. But really he wanted to spend a little more time with Glenda Jenkins. Her face was so swollen and one of her eyes almost completely closed, the skin around it black and purple, yet despite her awful wounds Frank felt drawn to her. He found her attractive and wanted to know more about her and her life. Why did she stay married to a man who could inflict such horrendous injuries on her? Surely it was out of fear, not love.

      As he entered the ward, those that were able were sat on the edge of their beds, wrapped up in warm dressing gowns and ready for the off. But Frank immediately noticed that Glenda’s bed had the curtain pulled around it. He panicked slightly, concerned that she had taken a turn for the worse, and hurried to speak to Mrs Fowler in the neighbouring bed.

      ‘What’s going on with Mrs Jenkins?’ he quietly asked Mrs Fowler, not wanting to show the other patients that he had a special interest in Glenda.

      ‘Well, the doctor has spoken to her and now I’m pretty sure the nurse is changing her bandages. They’re giving her a bit of privacy on account of how she looks because she’s asked to see in a mirror,’ Mrs Fowler whispered back.

      ‘That’s going to be a bit of a shock for her,’ Frank replied.

      ‘From what I heard it seems she had a straight nose before she took the tumble. Shame, ’cos I think she’s probably a very pretty girl under all them bruises, but she’ll never have a smashing smile again, not with those couple of teeth gone!’

      Frank was so shocked at the reality of Glenda’s injuries that he felt bile rise in his throat. It wasn’t the broken nose or knocked-out teeth that sickened him. It was the fact that the man who was supposed to love Glenda and look after her could actually do such a heinous thing to her. He wondered what sort of monster this Harry Jenkins really was.

      Suddenly, the curtain around Glenda’s bed was pulled back and two nurses walked away into the ward. Glenda had obviously been crying but appeared to be composed at the moment, though she looked pale and wan. Probably from the shock, thought Frank.

      He cautiously approached her side and saw the fresh bandages around her head. ‘I’m sorry, Glenda. I can’t believe he did that to you. It’s a stupid question, but are you all right?’

      Glenda’s eyes were watery but at least her swollen one was beginning to open.

      ‘He’s mad, Frank. That’s the only explanation I can think of. He’s out of his mind. He must be or else how could