Bless ’Em All by Saddler Allen

Author:Saddler, Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peter Owen Publishers
Published: 2014-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Bert Penrose woke up. He tried to look around him, but his head wouldn’t move. Everything he could see was white. White ceiling, white walls, white sheets, women dressed all in white, who came and peered at him once in a while. He felt stiff, but at the same time he felt as though every bone in his body was broken. His skin felt clammy, his mouth dry. He found that he couldn’t focus. When he set his eyes on something it began to duplicate itself and then float about. He could hear whispering. What was going on? Where was he? What time was it?

Suddenly, right in front of his eyes was a pink blob with bulging eyes that were looking at him as if he was something that ought to be put out of its misery.

‘How are you feeling, old chap?’ If he could have laughed he would have burst his sides. The pink blob seemed have acquired a moustache and glasses. ‘We’re sending you off to Epsom.’

Epsom? What for? The Derby? His leg was hurting. It was really giving him gyp. He tried to bend it, but it wouldn’t shift. He caught a glimpse of a white bed opposite, and, as he widened his vision, he took in other beds, in a long, neat row. God Almighty. How many people were in here? It was all too much for him. He decided to sleep it off. Whatever was going on here was clearly bad news.

The next time he opened his eyes he saw Edie looking down on him as though she had had a nasty fright.

‘Bert,’ she said, ‘you’re all right’, but he could tell that she didn’t believe it. He tried to lever himself up on one arm. ‘No,’ Edie said. ‘You mustn’t move. You’ve got to lay still. The doctor said …’ She looked worried to death. There was fear in her eyes and her hands kept stroking him as if she was trying to calm him down.

‘What’s up, old girl?’ he said.

‘You’ve been hurt,’ she said. ‘In Piccadilly.’ For some reason this piece of news struck him as being wildly funny. He was hurt all over. Not in Piccadilly.

‘It was a bomb,’ Edie said. ‘It hit a night club.’ He hadn’t been in a night club, had he? He certainly didn’t remember it. By God, Edie looked worried.

‘You all right?’ he said.

‘They’re taking you to a hospital in Epsom,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit quieter there.’

‘They told me. Where are we now?’

‘St Thomas’s.’

‘I’ve got a new job,’ he said. ‘At the RAC. But I’ve got to get a reference.’ Edie looked down the bed. ‘What’s up?’ he said.

Edie looked at the ceiling. ‘Haven’t they told you?’ She looked frightened.

Something was up here. ‘What is it?’ he said.

Edie gulped. Something was sticking in her throat. ‘Bert,’ she said tremulously. ‘You’ve lost one of your legs.’

This also struck him as being hilarious. Lost one of his legs? Bloody careless that was. Should have looked after it.

‘Edie,’ he said.

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