bouncing on his cot and how did she get him to stop? And when the vicar came, he told her (shouting through the kitchen door since Samuels refused to let him in) that no one else who attended the village school in Backbury had come down with them.
When Eileen took up the lunch tray, she caught Alf leaning out the ballroom door, flicking a wet facecloth at Jimmy and Reg. “What are you doing out here?” she demanded.
“I’m washin’ my face,” he said innocently.
“Get back in the nursery,” she ordered Reg and Jimmy. “Alf, get back into bed.” She pushed him into the ballroom. “Una, you can’t allow Alf to—where’s Una?”
“I dunno. Why ain’t you takin’ care of me?”
“Because you’re contagious.” And irritating beyond belief. “Climb into bed.”
“When can Binnie come see me?”
“She can’t. Now lie down,” she said and went in search of Una. She wasn’t in the bathroom or the nursery, where Binnie was leading the children in a noisy game of tag, and when Eileen glanced back in the ballroom, Alf was at the window, trying to open it, surrounded by the sheets he’d knotted together.
“Dr. Stuart said I needed fresh air,” he said innocently.
Eileen confiscated the sheets, located Una in her bedroom changing out of her sopping wet dress—Alf had spilt the washbasin on her—and sent her back downstairs to Alf.
“Must I?” Una begged her. “Can’t you nurse him? I’ll give you my new film magazine.”
I know just how you feel, Eileen thought. “I can’t. I haven’t had measles.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” Una wailed.
Eileen took the sheets back down to the linen closet, briefly considering hanging them out her bedroom window and escaping, but her room was four stories from the ground, and Dr. Stuart would be here in another hour. After one look at Alf—and poor Una—he would almost certainly call off the quarantine, and she could walk out the front door to the drop instead of risking life and limb.
But Dr. Stuart telephoned to say he was delayed—one of the Pritchards’ evacuees had fallen out of a tree and broken his leg—and by the time he arrived at three that afternoon, there was no longer any doubt of its being measles. Alf was covered from head to toe with un-fakeable red pinpoint dots, Tony and Rose were both complaining of sore throats, and before the doctor had even finished taking their temps, Jimmy had announced, “I’m going to be sick,” and was.
Eileen spent the rest of the afternoon setting up additional cots and cursing herself for not having climbed out the window while she had the chance. Tony’s brother Ralph and Rose’s sister Alice fell ill during the night, and when Dr. Stuart examined Edwina, she had white patches inside her mouth, even though she claimed she didn’t feel ill. “This would never have happened if we’d gone on the boat,” she said, annoyed.
Eileen wasn’t listening. She was thinking about the drop. She couldn’t go now, even if she could get past Samuels. She couldn’t leave the children with only Una to care for them. Dr. Stuart had promised to bring in a nurse, but the nurse wouldn’t be available till the weekend, and by then the lab would have already sent a retrieval team to find out why she hadn’t returned.
If they hadn’t already. “Is there a notice on the door saying we’re quarantined?” she asked Samuels.
“Indeed there is, and one on the main gate.”
Which means when they do come through, they’ll see what’s happened, she thought, and I needn’t worry about getting word to them. That was a blessing because she hadn’t a moment to spare over the next few days, between carrying trays, washing sheets, and keeping the evacuees who hadn’t yet caught the measles occupied.
Dr. Stuart was determined to keep her out of the sickroom, even though Una was clearly overwhelmed, but when Reg and Letitia fell ill, he said, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to help out till the nurse arrives and the children break out. As soon as their rashes appear, they’ll improve. Try to avoid close contact with them as much as you can.” And it was a good thing she wasn’t really at risk because the children needed nonstop nursing. They all had fevers and nausea, and their eyes were red and sore. Eileen spent half her time wringing out cold compresses, changing sheets, and emptying basins, and the other half trying vainly to keep Alf in bed.