She was a little relieved at the sight of Tom, looking much fatter and browner and better in hospital than she had ever seen him outside it. He looked happy, too, with his broad face all grins to see them, his mother and sweetheart. And since he looked so brown and well and happy, she wondered why it was that she wanted so much to cry.
Thyrza did not want to cry. She held Tom’s hand, and laughed, and was quite talkative, for her. She made him tell her over and over again how he had been wounded, and how they had taken him to the base hospital and then to Boulogne, and then in a hospital ship all signed with the cross to Blighty. Mrs. Beatup made up her mind that next time she would come alone.
And so she did—much to the surprise of her family, who had hitherto found her full of qualms and fears even at the thought of a visit to Senlac.
“I mun have my boy to myself whiles I’ve got the chance,” she said.
“Well,” remarked Ivy tactlessly, “I reckon he’d sooner have you separate—he’ll be wanting Thyrza aloan a bit.”
“Will he, miss? That aun’t why I’m going different days. We aun’t all lik you wud your kissings and loverings. I wish to goodness you’d git married and have done.”
“And taake some poor boy away from his mother,” mocked Ivy. “I wouldn’t be so cruel.”
Her mother made a swoop at her with her open hand, but Ivy dodged, and ran off, laughing good-naturedly.
None of the other Beatups ever went to see Tom at Eastbourne. The journey was too expensive, and they were sure to have him home on leave before long. Mrs. Beatup went about twice a week, with various messages from the rest of the family muddled up in her head. She would sit beside him, holding his hand, strangely delicate with sickness, between her own hard, cracked, work-weary ones, wishing that they could find more to say to each other, and at the same time cherishing those numbered moments when she could have him to herself. Thyrza went oftener, shutting up shop with a recklessness that would have ruined a less personal business. Tom’s only other visitor was the Reverend Mr. Sumption.
He came one afternoon to inquire about Jerry, but Tom could not tell him much. Jerry kept away from him, and the little that Beatup knew of his doings he was anxious to conceal from his father.