ReginaldChapter 19
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“All of them? Pardon?”
“They all use the name Mrs Robertson, but I am not legally married to anyone. My two teenaged stepdaughters have their own names but prefer using Robertson.”
“You are sure you are not confused any more, Mr Robertson?”
“Certain. Just ask for the Robertson family from the last carriage. That should find them.”
“Any other factors to help with identification?”
“Several are rather plain-faced, but are brilliant girls; oh and they have their babies with them.”
“Right: Robertson family, some of them with plain faces, and one or two have babies; and two younger teens.”
“And a babysitter named Sandra. And it is not one or two babies: it is seven.”
The doctor stared at the white-faced Reg, and wondered if the guy was hallucinating.
“Let me get this: You have seven women with babies, and they call themselves Mrs Robertson, yet you are not legally married to any of them: do I have that right?”
“Yes. Jessica doesn’t have a baby just now, not for a few weeks yet.”
“I presume she is one of the seven.”
“No. Her daughter is one of the teenagers. They use Robertson as their surname, for legal reasons.”
“I give up. This is too complicated. I’ll just ask for the Robertson family, and see what turns up.”
He left the cubicle and sought a nurse to locate the other Robertsons. She had a laptop with her and accessed the database of today’s patients when he asked.
“Passengers named Robertson, you said?”
In moments she was saying, “There are a bunch of them here, and couple of women shown as Robsons, who might be down in error. So, five female Robertsons with babies, another one with a pregnancy at eight months, and two late teenage girls with the surname Robertson, plus the two with the surname Robson, if they are connected.”
“Hang on; I’ll ask.”
He re-entered the cubicle and asked Reginald, “Would two of your women have the surname Robson, or is that an error?”
“Oh That is Hermione and Jemima. They work for our company. We were taking them home to their parents near Scarborough. They wanted to show off their babies to the grandparents.”
“They are not Robertsons, then?”
“No. They are Robsons.”
“Right. It is nice to get that settled. So is it five, no, six, using the name Mrs Robertson and two using the name Robson?”
“Six is right. Jessica escaped from her abusive former husband and calls herself Robertson to help her stay hidden. Her daughter does the same as well.”
The doctor went out to the nurse with the laptop and told her, “They are all together; the two surnames plus a babysitter, Sandra, whose surname I haven’t heard mentioned. Try to gather them together if you can.”
“Right sir.” She tagged them all, then did another database search. “There is only one who is a babysitter: first name is Sandra, but not a Robertson.”
The doc nipped back to Reg. “Your babysitter is named Sandra, you said?”
“Yes. How did you know how to find her?”
“Never mind; we have enough confusion as it is.”
He returned to the nurse. “The babysitter with the first name Sandra is with the Robertsons and Robsons. Any of them injured?”
She checked through the identified people. “The babysitter has a scraped leg; not serious, so we put an adhesive plaster on it. It will heal by itself. One of the Mrs Robertsons has a small laceration on her forehead. A plaster sorted that one too. The rest are just shaken by the crash; getting over the shock. The babies are all fine ... and hungry!”
The doctor grinned. “Babies are like that. Okay, try to gather them together and bring them here, so we can discharge them all at the one time.”
“Can we do that? Them as a group?”
“Not normally, but this is an emergency, so the faster we can get this done the better.”
“Right, doctor.”
About two minutes later, all of the party had been spoken to and brought together to give their assent to being discharged. They were happy to do so, which speeded the process. The cubicle curtain was already drawn back, so there were cries of delight when they spotted Reginald in better condition than they expected. At once there was a cluster of women and girls trying to get in to see him, then one woman ordered them all to retreat, as Reg made no attempt to do so; he was not fit to cope with them all.
“Girls! Step back and let Reg breathe; let me establish the facts.”
They all reacted to this instruction with alacrity. She was obviously in charge, and Reg glanced at the doctor who was now staring at the range of his women in amazement. Some of them would not warrant a second glance, the doctor recognised from his patient’s description, but others were better-looking. There seemed to be no common factor apart from education. Robertson had said they were all university students so they clearly had something going for them; intellectually capable as well as having to live with a baby. That made sense of the presence of a babysitter: so they could attend university. The girl must have a full-time job with them. He suddenly realised he was assuming they all lived together.
Reg recognised the leader. “Hi, Frances. How’s everyone?”
“We’re okay. Much more important: how are you, my love? Are we going to be allowed out?”
“I think so. Ask the doc here. He was concerned about me.”
The doctor intruded into the discussion, “Mr Robertson can be allowed out if he has a carer with him; or in this case, carers. He has to have frequent drinks of water or soft drinks, regular small meals, and avoid stress please. Oh, and get him to move slowly where possible; no sudden movements that would jerk his brain.”
“That is no problem, doctor. What is the policy regards getting to Scarborough now?”
“Not the hospital’s responsibility. The rail company will be laying on bus transport to replace the train while the track is blocked, but that is from station to station. York station is on the other side of the river; a fair walk from here or a taxi ride.”
“In that case I have done the right thing. I phoned and asked our Scarborough minibus to come to the hospital for us, on the assumption that it would be the quickest and best solution to our dilemma.” She turned to face the doctor: “Am I correct in that surmise?”
“Indeed so, madam. You appear to be in charge of this rabble, and doing it competently.”
“I am Reginald’s principal wife, so that is my responsibility. My estimate is an hour at the most for the driver to get here.”
The doctor blinked at the claim of ‘principal wife’, remembering that Robertson had said he was not legally married to anyone, but agreed with her estimate. “Yes, at the most. If the road is clear, it is much less than it used to be, since the upgrading of the road. If I can get a nurse to escort you to the front entrance, there are seats there where you can wait until your bus arrives, and I can start on another patient.”
“Right.” Frances raised her voice, “Girls, follow the nurse to the front waiting area; there should be seating available.”
There were a few mutters of ‘thank god for that’ and ‘at last’, but everyone moved and followed the nurse. Frances offered her hand to her ‘husband’.
“Come along, Reg. You are not right yet, so just do as you are told.”
To the doctor’s surprise, Robertson simply answered, “Yes, dear,” and took her hand, standing slowly, taking the doctor’s words to heart. She leaned in to kiss him tenderly, and he patted her curvy rear end affectionately. The doctor was left wondering: this weird family seemed to be a loving and cooperative bunch, unlike his expectations. Even the mid-teenage girls were being fully cooperative, unlike most mid-teens. Yet this young man, presumably the father of all the babies, appeared not to be running things; odd.
The family group were soon in the waiting area, but most of the regular seating was taken by relatives waiting for other passengers. Jessica assumed control and marched her expansive belly towards some seated persons who looked young and fit.
She asked, “Are there any good-mannered young people here, prepared to give a seat to mothers with babies?
This brought an immediate response, as sheepishly a dozen stood up and offered their seats. The seven women with babies were able to sit down with a grateful sigh, and Jessica took another offered chair, graciously thanking the twenty-ish man who stood for her.
“Thank you, young man. England has some young people to be proud of.”
The three unburdened teenagers stood around chatting. Sandra went the rounds of the mothers, to see if she could help with any baby, but they were all considerate of her leg injury and declined the offer.
Reg whispered to Frances as he stood next to her, “What happened about our luggage?”
She told him, “I asked our rescuers. They said it would be taken to Scarborough station to be collected. It would be marked as to what carriage it same from. Sounds like they are well organised for rail crashes.”
Eventually a man entered and asked, “Robertson party?”
Frances put her hand up and told him, “That’s us. I phoned you. You made good time.”
“The road was clear except near Kirkham. There are a lot of emergency vehicles parked just off the road. Was that where your train crashed?”
“Yes. They insisted in bringing us all here for a check-up. We have been released now, so we can load up and get to Scarborough. We have two women to be dropped off with their babies at a farm near Seamer; is that okay?”
“No bother, ma’am. Just get someone to direct me as we get close.”
“I’ll place these two girls in the front, so they can assist with directions; they are locals.”
“Excellent. The bus is at the door, but we have to shift it so ambulances can get in. Can you chase the passengers aboard, please?”
Frances turned to look back at the rest of the group.
“Robertson party! Get your butts to the door. Our bus is here.”
That got their attention, and quickly there was a stream of passengers on their way to the bus. Most moved towards the back of the vehicle to keep the passageway clear, but Frances tapped Hermione and Jemima as they got in the door.
“You two take the front seats. We are going to drop you off at home so you need to direct the driver to the farm. The rest of us are going to the hotel, including Reg, as he needs a rest. Apologise to your parents for his absence.”
“Right-o, Frances. The parents will understand that he is not well. Bring Reg as soon as he is up to visiting. We want Mum and Dad to agree with him being our future guardian, of sorts!” She smiled cheekily and hoisted her baby for going up the steps into the bus.
Everyone got aboard, and Frances told the driver, “Move to where you can stop safely for a couple of minutes, so I can make announcements.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He started the engine and moved the vehicle away from A & E. A minute or so later he eased to a stop at a wider stretch of tarmac, giving Frances a chance to speak.
She stood to catch everyone’s attention.
“Can you all listen for a bit? ‘I shall say this only once’.” This quote from the TV show ‘Allo,’Allo! caused a short giggle among the girls and got their attention.
“Now that you are all listening, hear this: We will drop off Hermione and Jemima and their babies at their family farm near Seamer, before going on to our hotel in Scarborough. Our luggage will be taken to Scarborough Station for us to collect, but I don’t know when it will get there; we’ll just have to ask.
Last thing: Reginald is suffering from concussion so he is not to be stressed. No alcohol, no big meals and he must move slowly for a time. You are all on Reginald Watch until he recovers. That is all.”
There was no real reaction to Frances’ statement, more murmur of accepting the situation; and realising that Reg was fragile for now. They all were prepared for looking after him the way he looked after them in the past.
The bus trip was less comfortable than the rail trip, but more interesting in that the bus went through old villages as part of its route. Daylight also helped them to see what was passing by.
The driver switched on his radio for his own interest, for he wanted to hear what was being said about the train crash when the news finally came on. There had been no indication of the cause, but it had to be an obstruction on the line; perhaps a fallen tree, an animal or perhaps vandalism from some object being placed on the rails. This kind of vandalism made no sense, as it harmed innocent travellers.
The driver listed to a piece of classical music for a while before the time came for the news headlines. He turned up the sound for the headlines.
“Seven people were seriously injured when a York to Scarborough train came off the rails a few miles from Malton. The injured and other shocked passengers were taken to York Hospital for attention. A hospital spokesman said that all the injured were doing well, and that most passengers had been released after minor injuries had been treated.
In another accident, three men were treated for fire inhalation at a factory in Darlington. The Fire Brigade are treating the fire as arson and police are making enquiries.”
The driver switched off the radio, commenting, “All they are saying is the train came off the rails. That is like saying that a man was drowned while he was in the water. It states the obvious but doesn’t tell you anything worthwhile.”
Hermione guffawed. “That is lovely; quite observant, driver.”
He scowled. “That is typical of news headlines: giving you enough to want to know more, but on the radio they don’t give you more. On the TV news, the headlines are later followed up by the fuller story, like it being at Kirkham rather than ‘a few miles from Malton’, and possibly an eye-witness saying he saw a block of concrete or a metal pipe on the rails, or something. That would at least give you some idea of the probable cause. You folks were there: do you have any notion of the cause?”
“No,” Hermione declared. We were in the last carriage, so we saw nothing of the actual collision, and none of the rescuers said anything about what had happened. That is understandable, as they were busy tying to help passengers, not looking at the front of the train. Perhaps whoever helped the train driver might have got an inkling from speaking to him.”
“Well, the news people clearly didn’t get anything of that nature. They will be scratching around to make the story more interesting, I expect.”
Conversation died, for no-one really wanted to go over the accident they had just been in.
In less time than they expected, the driver told Hermione that they were approaching Seamer, and where should he go.
She directed him on to the side road that took them to the farm, and he was soon driving into the farmhouse parking area. The Robsons must have been listening for the vehicle, for the farm door flew open and the couple were there, peering out at the minibus as the driver switched off his engine.
Jemima was first out, then her baby was handed to her by Frances. Hermione repeated this action, then the sisters stood there looking across at their parents, not knowing what to say.
The grandparents rushed towards them, arms outstretched, and both girls were being cuddled and questions asked about the babies. Frances stood on the bottom step of the bus, watching the emotional welcome.
Mr Robson was first to raise his gaze towards the bus. Frances waved a greeting, and he parted from his daughter to come over to speak with Frances.
“Thank you for keeping them safe, Mrs Robertson. Where is Reginald; is he injured?”
“He got a bang on the head and has concussion, so he has to be kept from stress and other things. We’ll send him to see you when he is a bit better. The main thing is that Hermione and Jemima are here. They can tell you about their jobs and other things. They are doing excellent work for the company, you will be pleased to hear.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs Robertson. Is everyone else fine?”
“Prudence has a minor head injury, and Sandra our babysitter has a scrape on her shin, but otherwise we are just shaken up by the whole event. We are looking forward to getting to our hotel and a chance to unwind. I want to get Reg into bed, for sleep will be good for him. I think some babies will need to be changed shortly, as well. Mrs Robson can help with your grandchildren that way, if she has something she could use for nappies, though both girls have learned much about caring for a child. Look after them, for we feel they are part of our family now.”
“You will come by and let us see all your children, Mrs Robertson?”
“Frances, please. We will come in a day or two, so we can brag about our babies. Their grandparents were just as effusive when they first saw our kids.”
“Damn!” Mr Robson exclaimed. “I was so concerned over their health with that crash, that I didn’t even ask if our babies were girls or boys.”
“I think you have one of each. We have so many babies in the house that we tend to think of them ALL as just our babies. Of course, my own Jimmy is different; quite special!”
She smiled. Mr Robson saw the joke and returned the smile.
“I’ll let you go then. Remember we want to see you.”
“Bye for now, sir. Look after your girls – our girls.”
She stepped back in to the bus and the driver switched on. She didn’t see Mrs Robson wave goodbye, her younger daughter in her sheltering arm, glad to them home.
The driver took it easy for last few miles tom Scarborough, once he knew the destination was their hotel. He phoned the hotel to say when the Robertson party would be arriving, and that they had been in the train crash that morning.
At the hotel door, as soon as the minibus drew up, the manager was out on the doorstep, wanting to know about any injuries so that they could take extra care with that person. Frances acting as the family spokesperson again. She organised the members of the party to get to their rooms so that could clean up before a late lunch.
The hotel manager had a pair of young ladies with him to assist with luggage and so on, but he was informed that their luggage remained with the train, and eventually would get to the station.
“I will speak with the station manager; I know him. He will let us know when the luggage gets there, and we will have it brought here, madam. Don’t concern yourself with it. May I ask; do you have your handbags with you?”
“No,” Frances admitted sadly. It was just our persons and our babies that we could take from the train. Our nappies and other toiletries were left behind, and the babies are in need of being changed, I am afraid.”
“No worry. I will send someone to do some shopping for your needs. How many babies?”
“Seven. We can make a shopping list for you.”
“Madam, you are victims of a train crash. Our local shops will be delighted to assist without a list. Anything your babies and yourselves might need will be provided. We can return anything which is not required.”
“That is very generous of you and the hotel.”
“Generosity has nothing to do with it. It is our duty as a community to help people in need, and you admitted that you are in need, as a result of the train crash.”
“Well, that is true, but you don’t need to go to so much trouble. We can put up with a certain degree of privation for a while.”
“Not in my hotel, madam. We have standards of decency to adhere to. Please do not reject hospitality that is offered freely.”
“I apologise for being so still-necked. I come from a family that always paid its way in life. I am not used to being caught short in this way. We can pay for what is needed.”
“That is up to you, madam. It is also up to donors as to whether they refuse to accept payment for donations. Such payment would negate their wish to help, you see.”
“I do see. I think I can see how Reginald felt when we first helped him, He was PROUD of scraping along with nothing, poor soul. I was behaving in a similar way, wanting to reject helpfulness. I apologise for my behaviour, sir. I am tired, still shocked by our experience, and not at all nice to those wanting to be nice to us. We will fit into whatever arrangements you make.”
“That is more like a lady I can admire. I take it you are Mr Robertson’s wife?”
“Yes, you can. I am leader of this little clan, in the present indisposition of Reginald. We are all tired, fretful and not nice to know. I for one would like to have a long shower and I am sure the other women will feel the same way. I will attend to Reginald’s needs in that way. He is in no fit state to be in control of a dog cart at the moment. The doctor said he should eat regular small meals and he has had nothing to eat for several hours. Do you think we could rustle up some eggs on toast or something like that?”
The manager wrinkled his nose at the suggestion.
“How about I get our chef to prepare Baked Eggs with potatoes, mushrooms and cheese? He can have whatever quantity he wants, and you can eat the rest, for it is a delicious snack lunch.”
“Thank you, that would be fine. Reginald?” She turned to look for him, then the bus driver said quietly, “He is asleep on his seat, Mrs Robertson. I didn’t like to wake him until you said it was okay.”
The manager intervened, “We have a washroom near the front door, Mrs Robertson. You can take him in and give his face a wash to revive him, then you can escort him to your room. I’ll get the key card for you.”
Seeing the concern on the manager’s face, Frances accepted the offer, and went to wake Reg. He groggily came awake, so she escorted him inside and saw to a cold face wash. That jerked him more awake, and he became aware of what was going on around him.
“Sorry, Frances. I am a bit sleepy and confused. Can you steer me to bed, please?”
She brought him back out to the hallway, and the manager asked, “Shall I summon the hotel’s doctor to check him over, madam; even if only to confirm that he is not getting worse?”
“I would not object to that. It is probably the shock setting in. I’ll get him to bed in the meantime, so tell the doctor that there is no urgency.”
“I’ll pass that message on. Here is your key card for your room, madam.”
She accepted it, not noticing anything other than the room number. It was only when she was at the room door that she saw the words Bridal Suite on it, and realised he had put them into far better accommodation without being asked. She became conscious of how hard this hotel manager was trying to do his best for the refugees from the train wreck, and it brought tears to her tired eyes.
She opened the door and found the huge bed, with comfy chairs on either side. She got Reg to sit in one while she ran a warm bath for him, appreciating that he would prefer that to a stand-up shower.
She got him to stand again, persuaded him to strip and led him to the bath, where he languidly stepped in and sat down.
“Ah. That’s perfect, Frances my love. Just the right temperature, but don’t let me fall asleep here.”
“Don’t worry. I will get you washed and into the bed soon after, in time for the doctor to visit.”
“Do I need another doctor, Frances?”
“Just a confirmation of your condition, Reg. I think you are just needing a good sleep to help you recover, but it doesn’t do any harm to make sure.”
“You make a wonderful wife, Frances.”
“So do your other girls, but you should know that anyway.”
“Perhaps; but you are still my best girl.”
“I’ll accept that accolade, but in the context of the rest of the family. Agreed?”
“Granted.” He sighed. “This is nice in here. Want to join me?”
“Yes, but I can’t. Your meal is on its way, as is your doctor, and also your bed awaits. Wash yourself pronto, and get out of there.”
The doctor arrived first, with a knock on the door. Frances opened it and he introduced himself by name.
Marisol
- 08.04.2021
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