Hidden past

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

'Spit it out Chloe! Now! Don't swallow it!'

She shook her head. 'Do as you're told, girl! Spit it out!'

She pressed the cloth to her mouth and shuddered with disgust as she spat out the phlegm. Oh, how disgusting! How degrading! And why had it come on her now, of all times! She wished she'd never listened to Evelyn. Dr Byrne

was studying the gauze and she turned her head away. 'Now, I'll listen to that chest and I don't want any complaints!'

When he'd finished he sat on the edge of his desk looking down at her, the smile gone from his eyes. It was as he'd expected, but he'd hoped he was wrong. However, he'd seen too much of it not to recognize the symptoms and she was a classic case. Her working life was spent mingling with all kinds of people and in cramped dressing-rooms and corridors. She'd worked herself into the ground and left herself wide open to infection, but she was so young, so lovely and with such a wonderful career ahead. It was at a time like this that he hated his work. 'How long do you intend staying in Clonmel?'

Only a couple of weeks, I can't spare any more time. She was very apprehensive now.

'Chloe, you need to stay for six months, maybe longer! She jumped up, fear in her eyes. "What's me? What's wrong?' wrong with

The doctor caught her by the shoulders and gently eased her back into the chair and then took both her hands in his.

I'll have to have it confirmed but, well, I've seen enough of this to be almost certain . . .'

'Enough of what? For God's sake tell me!' 'Oh, Chloe, my child, it breaks my old heart, that it does, but ... I'm sure it's... consumption.'

The dreaded word was out and he saw a whole gamut of emotions cross her face - shock, disbelief, horror, fear. She struggled to speak but he shook his head. If you have plenty of rest, good food, clear air, if we've found it in time... He could tell she wasn't listening. How... how long?'

Again he shook his head. 'I don't know, child. Before God and the Holy Virgin, I don't know! Months, years .. do you want me to tell your Ma?'

'No!' The word was clear, decisive.

'Why not?'

'I don't want anyone to know! No one!'

He thought he understood. The social stigma. You might just as well paint a black cross on the front door of the house, he thought. It was considered in much the same way as the plague; it made the entire family social outcasts. Oh, he understood.

She got up, shaking off his assistance.

'Chloe, where are you going? There are some things I can give you to help.'

'I don't know! I just . . . want to be on my own!' He opened the door for her. 'Come back and see me

tomorrow and remember, this door is always open to you day or night!'

Edward came towards her, the concern evident in his eyes. 'Chloe, you look awful. What's wrong?' Nothing! Just leave me alone. Take me... Oh, just

drop me off by the river. I want to think! I want to be

by myself! I'll walk home.' 'Your mother will skin me alive if I let you walk. Chloe, something's wrong. What did the doctor say?'

She turned on him. 'Just leave me alone, Edward! Just go away!'

He shrugged. Obviously Doctor Byrne had said some thing to upset her. Perhaps he'd even advised a break in her career. 'All right, suit yourself. I'll drop you by Kilsheelan Bridge, it's not too far to walk from there.'

As soon as the sound of the horse's hooves had died away, Chloe walked along the towpath until she was under neath the bridge. No one could see her here either from the road or from on top of the bridge. She leaned her back against the cold, damp stones of the arch. It couldn't be true! It couldn't! Only people like the O'Hagans got consumption. Living in dirty, overcrowded hovels with not enough to eat. Not people like herself who had had the best of everything! He must be mistaken! He must! She felt cold and chilled and clutched her arms tightly around her. Oh, it was too monstrous, too horrible to even contemplate! There was no cure, she'd seen the slow, lingering decline. She'd heard of the awful, choking death. She began to shake. It wasn't going to happen to her! It wasn't! He was wrong. What did he know anyway? He was only a country doctor. But a tiny voice somewhere in her mind told her he was right. She began to cry. She wouldn't let it happen to her! She was too young, she still had so much to do, she wasn't going to die! Her mind refused to accept that. She'd fight it. She'd always been a fighter, she'd never been one to just give in. She'd fight with every ounce of strength and courage she had and no one, no one at all, would ever know! She could stand anything but pity and no one was going to pity her! But how long? How long before the cough got worse? Before she was unable to sing? She'd rest as much as she could, that's what she'd do. But how could she? People would notice and ask questions. Why wasn't she her usual vivacious self? No, she would have to go on. It would be the most daunting role that she'd ever had and she would give a fine performance. But at the end there'd be no applause. Just the flowers. Oh, there'd be the flowers at the end.

Chloe straightened up and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. Not by a single word, a single gesture would she indicate to anyone that something was wrong.