into submission like dogs, hopeless and unloved. As the train hurtled north,
Agnes gritted her teeth; she had to keep believing that none of them could be her Stan.
The view from the window changed radically once they were past Preston and Chorley, the fertile Lancashire farmlands giving way to the first soft roll of the Cumbrian mountains which grew steeper as they passed Kendal then soared high and majestic as the train chuffed its way around Windermere. Agnes, who’d barely travelled outside of London, had never seen mountains so high or lakes so vast, and when she stepped off the train at the quaint Keswick station she gasped at the purity of the air. Esther could only thrive in such an environment. Following directions to the cottage hospital, Agnes hurried through the market town with its charming Moot Hall, then turned right towards Derwentwater; there she found the hospital surrounded by lawns that ran down to the edge of the lake.
With her pulse racing with excitement and trepidation, Agnes found Esther’s ward, where she introduced herself to the doctor.
‘I have to be honest, Mrs Sharpe,’ the doctor said after the initial formalities. ‘Esther’s progress is slow and she’s distinctly timid about trying out anything new.’
‘She’s very young,’ Agnes replied defensively.
The doctor smiled sympathetically.
‘We understand that, plus Esther was parted abruptly from both parents in a very short space of time. She’s been through a lot.’
Agnes nodded as she bit back tears.
‘We’re hoping this long-awaited visit from you might
increase Esther’s confidence,’ he said as he led Agnes to a window through which she could observe Esther working with her physiotherapist.
Agnes’s heart skipped a beat as she watched her little girl intently working on exercising her left leg, which was strapped in a heavy metal calliper that caused her to walk with an uneven hopping gait. Agnes was surprised to see how much Esther had grown since she last saw her, though she was shocked at how thin and pale she was. Tears stung Agnes’s eyes as Esther kept anxiously reaching out for her stick, but the physiotherapist was discouraging her from using it. Esther valiantly struggled on but she wobbled nervously as she tried to balance her body weight against the calliper.
She’s so young, so small and vulnerable, thought Agnes.
Unable to wait a minute longer, she hurried to the treatment room.
‘Esther … darling,’ she whispered as she pushed open the door and held out her arms to her daughter.
Esther let out a cry of pure joy as she fell into her mother’s open arms.
‘Mummy, Mummy!’ she sobbed.
Weeping with joy, Agnes buried her face in Esther’s tumbling dark hair, inhaling for the first time for over a year the sweet young smell of her. Her hands travelled down the child’s back where she could feel every bony vertebra. God, she really was thin!
Unable to believe her eyes, Esther said, ‘Mummy! You’ve come at last.’
Agnes, brimming with love and happiness, stroked Esther’s hair and kissed away the tears on her damp cheeks.
‘It’s all right, darling,’ she soothed. ‘Everything’s all right … Mummy’s here.’
When both of them finally stopped crying Agnes borrowed a wheelchair from the ward. Esther instantly hopped into it.
‘Come on, cherub, let’s go for a walk,’ said Agnes with a radiant smile.
Even though it was a cold winter’s day Agnes pushed Esther in her wheelchair around the shores of Derwentwater until it went dark. Neither of them wanted the day to end. Every time Agnes asked Esther if she was cold or hungry her daughter just laughed.
‘Keep on walking, Mummy, keep on talking.’
Starved of each other’s company for so long, they laughed as they sang Esther’s favourite nursery rhymes from her baby days.
‘Bye, baby bunting, daddy’s gone a-hunting,’ Esther chanted. ‘Has Daddy really gone hunting, Mummy?’ she asked, her dark eyes big with
Agnes gritted her teeth; she had to keep believing that none of them could be her Stan.
The view from the window changed radically once they were past Preston and Chorley, the fertile Lancashire farmlands giving way to the first soft roll of the Cumbrian mountains which grew steeper as they passed Kendal then soared high and majestic as the train chuffed its way around Windermere. Agnes, who’d barely travelled outside of London, had never seen mountains so high or lakes so vast, and when she stepped off the train at the quaint Keswick station she gasped at the purity of the air. Esther could only thrive in such an environment. Following directions to the cottage hospital, Agnes hurried through the market town with its charming Moot Hall, then turned right towards Derwentwater; there she found the hospital surrounded by lawns that ran down to the edge of the lake.
With her pulse racing with excitement and trepidation, Agnes found Esther’s ward, where she introduced herself to the doctor.
‘I have to be honest, Mrs Sharpe,’ the doctor said after the initial formalities. ‘Esther’s progress is slow and she’s distinctly timid about trying out anything new.’
‘She’s very young,’ Agnes replied defensively.
The doctor smiled sympathetically.
‘We understand that, plus Esther was parted abruptly from both parents in a very short space of time. She’s been through a lot.’
Agnes nodded as she bit back tears.
‘We’re hoping this long-awaited visit from you might
increase Esther’s confidence,’ he said as he led Agnes to a window through which she could observe Esther working with her physiotherapist.
Agnes’s heart skipped a beat as she watched her little girl intently working on exercising her left leg, which was strapped in a heavy metal calliper that caused her to walk with an uneven hopping gait. Agnes was surprised to see how much Esther had grown since she last saw her, though she was shocked at how thin and pale she was. Tears stung Agnes’s eyes as Esther kept anxiously reaching out for her stick, but the physiotherapist was discouraging her from using it. Esther valiantly struggled on but she wobbled nervously as she tried to balance her body weight against the calliper.
She’s so young, so small and vulnerable, thought Agnes.
Unable to wait a minute longer, she hurried to the treatment room.
‘Esther … darling,’ she whispered as she pushed open the door and held out her arms to her daughter.
Esther let out a cry of pure joy as she fell into her mother’s open arms.
‘Mummy, Mummy!’ she sobbed.
Weeping with joy, Agnes buried her face in Esther’s tumbling dark hair, inhaling for the first time for over a year the sweet young smell of her. Her hands travelled down the child’s back where she could feel every bony vertebra. God, she really was thin!
Unable to believe her eyes, Esther said, ‘Mummy! You’ve come at last.’
Agnes, brimming with love and happiness, stroked Esther’s hair and kissed away the tears on her damp cheeks.
‘It’s all right, darling,’ she soothed. ‘Everything’s all right … Mummy’s here.’
When both of them finally stopped crying Agnes borrowed a wheelchair from the ward. Esther instantly hopped into it.
‘Come on, cherub, let’s go for a walk,’ said Agnes with a radiant smile.
Even though it was a cold winter’s day Agnes pushed Esther in her wheelchair around the shores of Derwentwater until it went dark. Neither of them wanted the day to end. Every time Agnes asked Esther if she was cold or hungry her daughter just laughed.
‘Keep on walking, Mummy, keep on talking.’
Starved of each other’s company for so long, they laughed as they sang Esther’s favourite nursery rhymes from her baby days.
‘Bye, baby bunting, daddy’s gone a-hunting,’ Esther chanted. ‘Has Daddy really gone hunting, Mummy?’ she asked, her dark eyes big with