Page 70 of The Missing Sister
‘I know what a thresher is, Nuala.’
‘Then you’ll also be knowing how dangerous they can be. Christy’s always been a strong lad, and smart too, but he slipped and his right foot and part of his leg were caught in it. I don’t have to be telling you what a terrible injury it was.’
‘I can imagine. Did they amputate?’
‘No, they saved it, but it took near to a year for Christy to recover, and he’s not been able to walk without a stick since. He’ll never run, or swing a girl round the place in aceilidhagain, but he’s walking and can ride his horse.’
‘Well, good for him, but I don’t see what it’s got to do with me,’ Philip said irritably. ‘Christy’s got two legs, and I’m assuming both eyes, and his whole face.’
‘And you’ve got a fine wooden leg made especially for you just a few yards away in your bedroom,’ she countered.
‘Nuala, I said no and I meant it!’
She ignored him and went into the bedroom to fetch the leg. It was leaning up as usual against the wall in the corner, and Mrs Houghton had already shown her the stack of cotton socks in the dresser drawer. They would fit snugly over his stump and protect the scarred, delicate skin of the wound.
Taking the surprisingly heavy leg into the sitting room, she saw the look of abject fear on his face.
‘No, Nuala, please!’
‘Sure, we’ll go slow about it,’ she soothed him. ‘But you have to try. How about we just fix it on, and you can stay sitting with it while we have a game of chess? Just to get the feel of it, so.’
‘I know you mean well, but it’s no use. I’m perfectly all right here in my chair.’
‘Are you, Philip?’ She gave him a direct gaze. ‘Every day I watch you and see how your pride is hurt by having to ask people for help. I’d feel the same way if ’twas me, and it’s what got Christy out of bed and walking in the end. Besides, most soldiers I’ve seen in your position have little more than a wooden peg, when you have a fine custom-made leg! You’ve got to at least try it, so don’t be letting your stubbornness get in the way of things.’
Flushed from speaking to him so forthrightly, she half expected him to fire her on the spot.
After a long silence in which neither of them moved, Philip let out a long sigh and gave a nod of acceptance.
‘All right, but I’m not putting weight on it.’
‘Thank you. So now, let’s get going,’ she said as she knelt down in front of him. ‘I’ll just be rolling up this trouser leg, so it won’t be getting in the way,’ she explained as she exposed the stump. Though he was used to being washed by her nightly, she could feel how tense he was. ‘Now so, we’ve got a cotton sock to go on over,’ she said as she slid it on. ‘And I’ll just be opening the clasps and bindings on it.’
The leg was made of a dark blond wood, which had been sanded, oiled and varnished. It had a foot carved at the end and leather laces so she could adjust the fit around Philip’s thigh. She tried to work confidently, not betraying the fact that she’d never done this before.
Once the leg was fastened and she had checked with Philip that it wasn’t too uncomfortable, she tested the hinge so it could move smoothly with his knee, and placed the foot next to his other on the wheelchair rest. Then she wheeled him over to the window and set up the chess table without another word.
They played in silence, the satisfying click on the wooden board as pieces were moved the only sound, other than the crackling fire. Once he had declared checkmate, rather than ringing for tea, she went down into the kitchen and brought the tray up herself so he wouldn’t have Maureen gawking at the leg.
As she poured him his tea, then added his preferred amount of milk, he cleared his throat.
‘So, did you see many... amputees when you were up in hospital in Cork?’ he asked.
‘Yes. ’Twas the end of the Great War and we had young fellows recovering from injuries not unlike yours. I was only in training at the time, so I was emptying bedpans and the like rather than doing the proper nursing, but I saw a lot of suffering. And bravery,’ she added for good measure.
He chewed on his sandwich thoughtfully before replying. ‘I’m sure you did. And I know I’m luckier than most living here, but I don’t think I’ll ever know true peace again.’
‘I think you could, Philip, if you were more independent. Yes, it takes a good deal of work and courage, but you can do it, I know you can.’
‘You’re so unfailingly optimistic, Nuala.’
‘I don’t see the point in being anything else, do you? And I’ve faith, Philip, and a great deal of it in you.’
‘Then I’d hate to let you down, but—’
‘Then don’t, Philip.’
After a long pause, he sighed. ‘Go on then. Let’s give this a try.’
