God's Crusade

Part Nineteen

Hermione agreed to a sleepover with the Hinton girls to please her grandmother. Mrs Slade felt it would be rude not to accept the invitation, and she did not want to lose any face in front of her friends. Hermione had not exactly enjoyed her Sunday experience with the Hinton's but she could tell her grandmother really wanted to show her off, and that she would be so disappointed if her granddaughter did not make the effort for her friends. Her beloved father really seemed to be in his element, going off to a meeting with the Pastor no less, and he suggested to his daughter that their visit was an interlude. He thought she ought to try things out of her usual orbit, and reminded her that his mother was dying and deserved just a little happiness. And she was truly fascinated by Great Britain and the people she had met. It was so different to California and New York, where everything seemed to be about money and how to get it, with every grade crucial to what you could do next and perfection in all things not only expected but demanded from people like her mother. Pippa had raised both of her children to succeed at all costs, even if it meant personal sacrifice. Not only did Hermione have to excel at school, she had to look right, have the straightest teeth, the glossiest hair, the ideal friends, hobbies, habits and ambitions. Everything from homework to her forced involvement in sport came with its own intolerable pressure. She never got a well done. In fact, she got more praise from her sweet old grandmother for agreeing to visit the Hinton's than she could ever remember getting from her mother.

Even so, as Miss King took her bonnet at the front door, she felt nervous. Church had been a ritual, something most people in the country seemed to do, out of habit as much as faith, but surrendering herself to a guardian was something else, a step up, a leap into the unknown world of proper piety. Miss King removed her muzzle, worn because Mrs Slade thought it best, but left her mittens on, taking her into the lounge to sit with Mrs Hinton and her daughters. It was all a bit stilted at first, but tolerable. Extremely strange, but undeniably tolerable. Prompted by their mother, Rose and Vanessa talked about church, their friends and how much Miss King was helping them, whilst thanking God that they had been allowed to defer their National Service and devote their time to earning God's love. Hermione was asked a lot about California, her school days in New York and the things she liked to do. Not that she could think of many of those. Her mother tended to fill her diary for her, and she could not remember the last time her family sat around and just talked to each other. Even with the mittens, it was quite an experience.

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Sister Caris sat with the boy until the morphine started to soothe him, stroking his forehead until he closed his eyes. He was only three. It was a nasty break, after apparently trying to copy some older boys climbing a tree. His mother sat the other side of the bed, her mittened hands closed around his tiny left hand, her veiled face turned to his. Neither of them could speak to each other or see each other's faces, but they were united in their care for the child in the curtained cubicle, with the gentle bustle of accident and emergency continuing just outside. Caris saw lots of patients, of course. All different people, rich and poor, drunk and sober, or even dead or alive. Meadvale was hardly a hotbed of violence and trauma, if anywhere in Britain really was anymore, but it covered a fairly large area, with major roads nearby, so apart from children falling out of trees they saw a lot of accident victims, as well as the usual medical emergencies. So in almost twenty years of emergency nursing Caris had seen all sorts, and just by looking at the boy's mother she could place her in society. For a start, she was not poor. Her velvet gown was not the best quality but she was not at church and it was not a Sunday, and to wear velvet in the week suggested a decent family income at the very least. She was also accompanied by a guardian who had left her whilst the servant dealt with another child, and went off to telephone the father to tell him his son was in hospital. Middle class at worst, Caris decided, with enough money coming in to have ambitions rather higher up the food chain.