on to the chest of drawers at the side of the bed. She then flew down the stairs and along the row of cottages into Bessie’s kitchen.
‘Please come quickly,’ she begged as tears rained down her cheeks. ‘Gran’s really bad and I don’t know what to do!’
Bessie was in the act of clearing the breakfast pots from the table but she immediately dumped them unceremoniously into the deep sink and hitching up her skirts followed Amy back along the fronts of the cottages at a trot.
When she saw Molly looking very old and frail in the great brass bed she wasted no time at all.
‘Run for the doctor now,’ she ordered sharply. ‘And tell him to be quick about it, else he’ll have me to answer to.’
Amy needed no second bidding, and without waiting to even snatch up her shawl she flew to do as she was told.
Luckily she caught the doctor just as he was leaving his house in Swan Lane and he followed her back to the cottage immediately. Once inside the tiny bedroom he ushered both Amy and Bessie into the next room. Then quickly he began to examine the old woman in the spotlessly clean bed. When he called them back in some minutes later, his face was grave. ‘I’m afraid it’s pneumonia,’ he told them, and Amy began to cry. Molly was all she had in the world and the thought that she could lose her was terrifying. Bessie’s arm snaked about her slim waist comfortingly. She felt like crying herself but knew that if she was to be of any help at all, then she must hold herself together.
‘What can be done for her?’ she asked as calmly as she could.
‘Well, for a start-off I want her bed brought down into the kitchen; she must be kept warm. I want you to sponge her down regularly with cool water and you must get some fluids into her. Do you think you can manage that?’
Bessie nodded. ‘We’ll manage. Our Toby can come and carry her downstairs, and the bed, and then me and Amy can see to the rest. I know that Jim will help too as much as he can, when he gets back from the pit.’
Satisfied that his orders would be obeyed, the doctor nodded then after fumbling about in his seemingly bottomless bag he produced a bottle of dark brown medicine. ‘She must have one teaspoon of this four times a day,’ he told her. ‘And I’ll call back again this evening on my way home.’ Seeing their worried faces, he added kindly, ‘Don’t worry about payment tonight. We’ll work something out.’
Bessie nodded as she took the medicine. ‘Everything will be done just as you say,’ she assured him and he smiled.
Amy was still crying but as soon as the doctor had gone, Bessie rounded on her. There were times when you had to be cruel to be kind and Bessie felt that this was one of them.
‘Right then, Amy.’ Her voice was cool. ‘That’ll be quite enough snivellin’ fer now. If we’re going to get your gran through this, then we’ve got to keep our wits about us, ain’t we?’
Amy eyed her miserably, then slowly nodded.
‘Good. Now run back to my place and tell our Toby that we need him straight away. That’s if, God forbid, he ain’t already left for his shift. Go on now, off yer go!’
Amy clattered down the stairs two at a time to fetch Toby. In no time at all he had Molly’s bed set up in the kitchen at the side of a roaring fire, and had carried her in his arms down the narrow stairs. And then the really hard work began. All day long, Amy and Bessie took turns in sponging Molly down with cool water and dripping liquid down her parched throat. But by teatime when the doctor called back as promised, the fever showed no sign of breaking.
‘How long will she be like this?’ Amy asked him, fear in her voice.
He could only shake his head. ‘There’s no way of knowing,’ he admitted.
‘You’re doing all you can,’ he assured her kindly. ‘Just keep it up and I’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
Amy thanked him as Bessie showed him to the door, her heart as heavy as lead within her chest.
Dr Sorrell wished that there was more that he could do, but the old woman’s life hung in the balance now; it was just a matter of waiting. At eleven