Colin M. Johnson's Fiction - Novels

"ONE POTATO, TWO"

by Colin M. Johnson

CHAPTER 12


      On the Sunday evening Jim Bradmore had returned home exhausted after a futile trip to Gatwick, his only interesting news being that again he'd heard the name of Dr. Latham.

      "We must track down this Latham fellow," he said to his wife that night.   "After we've seen Sarah off tomorrow, we'll call on Mrs. Barker.   If she's back from holiday, she may have the answers we need."

      On Monday when their phone rang at lunch-time, there was no-one to answer it.   Jim and Dottie spent the morning at Heathrow, and after entrusting Sarah into the safe care of a flight attendant they returned to their car and headed straight for Mary Barker's home in Baverbridge.

      "We're sorry to call on you unannounced," Jim began as they stood nervously on her doorstep, "but we happened to be in the area.   My name's Jim Bradmore, and this is my wife Dorothy.   This is all a bit delicate and I don't quite know where to begin, but last October my brother was killed in a road accident near here.   I'm sorry - it's distressing for all of us, but we'd be most grateful for your help."

      "The simple truth is," added Dottie, "we believe our niece may have survived.   We're sorry to intrude on you like this, but I'm sure you'd do the same in our position."

      "Of course," Mary Barker smiled warmly, and invited them in.   "There was a little girl, yes, and I saw her in the hospital.   For a while I hoped it was my Sandy."

      Dottie sympathised.   "We heard about that too.   I'm so sorry."

      "There was a very friendly doctor who showed me all his young patients," she recalled.   "But Sandy wasn't there.   There was about six girls or so, and one from the crash who had a funny name - Potato, that was it!   She couldn't recall her real name, poor mite.   The doctor brought her here for a visit a while back, but I was out.   They met Karen though, my other little girl."

      Mary Barker summoned Karen to meet her visitors.

      "Karen, my love, you remember that man who came when I was out?   The one with the young girl in his car?"

      "I wonder," Dottie intervened, producing a photo of Sarah.   "Did she look anything like this?"

      Karen studied the photo thoughtfully for a moment, then handed it back with a nod.   "Could be," she said, and hid behind her mother.

      Mary Barker examined it too and nodded.   "Oh, that's her all right.   I'll give you the name of the hospital, and the doctor I saw.   I keep his card on the sideboard.   Latham, his name was.   Such a nice man!"

      "Dr. Cyril Latham!" exclaimed Jim, noting the phone number as he handed back the card.   "Mrs. Barker," he concluded unsteadily.   "I'm sorry if we've intruded, but I have to tell you, this is the best news we've had so far.   It may be small consolation, but I want you to know you've just helped us put our world back together again.   Please let me know if there's any way we can repay you."

      But the good lady simply smiled and shook her head.   "I'm only glad to be of some use," she said in parting.   "That's why we're placed on this earth, isn't it?   To help one another?"

      "So," Jim remarked as they headed back towards London.   "Our next port of call has to be Dr. Latham's hospital."

      He stopped by a roadside phone box, and a minute later returned to the car shaking his head and looking very frustrated.

      "The elusive doctor, would you believe, is taking two weeks' holiday.   He and his wife set off yesterday morning, and can't be contacted till the weekend after next.   Still, if he's a good doctor, he should phone in from time to time to check on his patients.   When he does, hopefully, he'll get a message to contact me."

      "You explained what it was about?"

      "I said it was about his Potato patient, Wendy Rose Bradmore, and he's to phone us at home any hour of the day or night.   So from now on, old girl, home is where we ought to be."

****

      Still down in Somerset, and long before he ever thought of contacting the hospital, Cyril Latham had phoned directory enquiries only to learn that Jim Bradmore's number was ex-directory.

      "You'd think they'd divulge it to a doctor, wouldn't you?" Barbara complained as they sat in the car eating a picnic lunch.

      "Yes, but I can hardly verify my credentials over the phone.   St. Albans isn't far from London, anyway.   We could even call in person if Wendy knows the way and promises not to fall asleep.   What do you think, little one?   Is there anything else we need to look for here, or shall we head back east?"

      "I think we'd better go and make sure Uncle Jim's house looks like I remember it," said Wendy.   "If they're not in, we can poke a note through their letterbox."

      "I thought your family used trees," the doctor said with a grin.

      "Very reliable system."

      "Yes, as long as there's someone standing by to catch the postman."

      Wendy felt it was a good moment to suck her thumb.

      "I kept trying to think of places that sounded like a church," she confessed as they neared St. Albans.   "We often came by train, so find the station first.   I think I know the way from there."

      Sure enough she did.   When they pulled up outside Jim and Dottie's house, Wendy recognised it at once, but nearly burst into tears on finding it empty.   Barbara comforted her by drafting a note which they put through the door before they headed for home again.

      In fact, the Bradmores and the Lathams both reached their respective dwellings at about the same moment.

      "Can't we stay in another hotel tonight?" asked the disappointed Wendy.

      "Tonight, my love, we're staying here," Cyril said firmly.   "We've asked your aunt and uncle to phone us, and when they do I want to be sure we're in!"

      "Can we drive back and see them tomorrow?"

      "There'll be no point, Wendy, if they've gone on holiday.   It may take a few more days, so don't get too excited yet.   I ought also to check with the hospital, but I'm reluctant to use the phone.   From now on I vote we just sit tight and wait for it to ring."

      "But what if they've left word with your secretary?"

      The doctor saw sense and phoned the hospital.   He heard about Jim's message, and was about to dial the Bradmores' number, when the long-awaited call came through.

      Wendy could hear only one side of the conversation, but she stood earnestly by the phone, studying the doctor's expressive face for clues.

      "Yes, speaking," he began.   "Yes, we did...   Yes!   We are too, it's taken an awful long time, hasn't it! ...   No, she's fine ...   Yes, she is.   We visited Taunton for the first time today, and Wendy found the note Sarah left in a tree.   We drove to your address at once, but you were out."

      There was a longer pause, and then a look of concern appeared on the doctor's face.   "Well, I'm damned!   Of all the ...   Oh?   I see."

      For a while he just listened.   Wendy could hear a squeaky voice at the other end of the phone and knew it was her aunt, but couldn't make out what was being said, not could she decipher the look of bemused resignation on the doctor's face.

      "Would you believe it!" he exclaimed at last.   "Though in the circumstances I'd have done the same...   No, I agree ...   Is it?   We had no idea what date it was."

      He turned to Wendy and grinned from ear to ear.

      "Do you know," he carried on, "there's a pair of beady blue eyes watching me as I speak, picking up every word.   But before I hand you over, I've just had a wild idea.   There's a way we can make that particular event twice as memorable, and I do mean twice, if you follow me?   Exactly!   I agree, to maintain the element of ...   right out of the blue."

      Wendy was now jigging up and down, flicking her fingers with frantic impatience.

      "Well, my wife and I have taken a couple of weeks off to try and solve the question of Wendy's identity ...   Ah, you heard about that?   ...   No, severe amnesia, but every sign of a complete recovery.   So we both passed the winning post at the same moment.   We must meet and congratulate ourselves, mustn't we?   Now listen - Wendy will explode if we don't let her say Hallo.   But may I advocate keeping that other proposal pianissimo until the appropriate occasion? ...   It would, wouldn't it?   So, bearing that point in mind, Mrs. Bradmore, it's my very great pleasure to hand you over to the irrepressible, adorable Wendy Rose."

      Wendy took the phone as though she'd been handed a BBC microphone.   At first she seemed dumb-struck.   "Hallo, Auntie?" she whispered at last.

      "Oh, my precious darling.   It's so lovely to hear your voice again.   How are you?"

      "I'm fine," said Wendy.   "I've still got a funny leg, but it's going to be all mended in just a few more weeks."   She glanced at her doctor, hoping he'd confirm this.

      "Provided we avoid elm trees," he nodded quietly.

      "Now you're all coming over to see us first thing tomorrow morning," her aunt insisted.   "Normally your uncle would be at work, but like your doctor he's taken a few days off too, so he'll be here as well."

      "Good," said Wendy excitedly.   "Can I talk to Sarah please?"

      "Oh, my pet, she's gone to stay with a friend for a few days, but you'll be able to meet up with her very soon."

      Wendy was clearly disappointed.   "I just wanted her to know I'm all right."

      "Oh, she's known that for months, darling.   She's your twin, remember?   Time and again she kept reminding us that twins know things other people don't.   Now, you're all coming to visit me tomorrow, so we'll have lots to talk about then.   Could I speak with your Dr. Latham again?"

      "Yes," she nodded, giving him a loving smile.   "And Auntie?   You'll love him when you meet him.   I do!"

      The doctor blushed, added a few final words and ended the call.

      "One question," Wendy insisted before he could say anything.   "What did you arrange with Aunt Dottie that this child isn't supposed to know about?"

      "Oh dear," he sighed, glancing at his wife.   "Never underestimate the perspicacity of an eight-year-old."

      "Eight?" queried Wendy.

      "Very nearly.   Listen.   I want to give someone a little surprise soon, but it's a secret and you are not allowed to spoil it."

      "How can I spoil anything when I don't know what it is?"

      "Good point," he said.   "Hold that thought."

      He kissed Wendy goodnight, and Barbara took her up to bed.   Later in the privacy of his study he made a long international phone call.

      The next morning, punctually at ten-thirty o'clock, Cyril and Barbara Latham drove in through the gates of the Bradmores' St. Albans home, and watched proudly as Wendy walked into the welcoming arms of her aunt and uncle.   It was a moment of such overwhelming joy that none of them was able to speak, yet at the same time the Lathams felt an intense upsurge of sadness.   No longer the central figures in Wendy's life, they were about to surrender responsibility for someone who'd become unbelievably precious.

      But their over-riding joy was that Wendy was to be reunited with her sister and the next best thing to her real parents.   And because the Lathams loved her so much, Wendy's happiness was all that really mattered.

      For the first twenty minutes, Wendy did all the talking, telling her god-parents all about her operations and the nurses, and how she slowly began to remember things, one by one.

      Later, the three ladies gathered in the kitchen to prepare a celebratory lunch, while Jim and Cyril went into the front room, ostensibly to chat about their respective attempts to contact one another.

      The real subject under discussion was how to get Wendy a passport at such short notice.   The one from her previous trip had inevitably been destroyed.   But Jim had had the foresight to retrieve vital documents and birth certificates from his brother's house, so Dr. Latham undertook to renew Wendy's passport the following morning.

      They had a wonderful day together, the joy of the occasion marred only by Sarah's absence.   Wendy was told that her sister had gone to stay with some friends who couldn't easily be contacted, a carefully worded statement and remarkably close to the truth.

      Eventually as the time came for Cyril and Barbara Latham to leave, Wendy grew very unsettled.

      "And where must I sleep tonight?" she asked forcefully, raising an important issue that no-one seemed anxious to address.

      "Well," said her aunt, "you could sleep in Sarah's bed tonight if you wanted to, but I think your kind doctor has one or two things he needs to take care of first.   It'll be a lot easier if you stay near the hospital for a few more days, don't you agree?"

      "I do love all of you," Wendy announced quite crossly, before erupting into uncontrollable tears.

      "Of course you do, my pet," her aunt comforted her.   "We all love you, and you'll see a great deal of all of us for as long as you want to, so there's nothing to worry about.   But I can tell you this.   Someone has a lovely big surprise in store for you.   There, I've said too much already.   But you'll find out about it soon enough."

      "We've got several hectic days ahead of us," Barbara added.   "You're going to find it very exciting, so you'd best get plenty of sleep tonight."

      "When will I see them again?" Wendy asked poignantly.

      "In a few days," Dottie replied.   "And next time you come to this house, there'll be another eight-year-old here too."

      "Eight?"   Wendy considered the implications of her aunt's remark.   "Sounds as if it'll soon be someone's birthday."

      "That could be part of a big surprise, couldn't it?"

      Wendy gave her aunt and uncle a big hug, vowing she'd never forget their names as long as she lived.   Then she and her much-loved foster-parents drove away into the night.

      The following day, after a quick breakfast, Barbara took Wendy into town, explaining that the doctor needed some special photos taken for his scrapbook.   Cyril, meanwhile, was booking three tickets for Wednesday's flight to Los Angeles.

      Later he and Wendy visited the Tower of London, while Barbara went to the passport office where a grateful parent of one of the doctor's former patients afforded her preferential treatment.   Finally, they ended the day with a theatre visit, and returned home well after midnight.

      "If that was my big surprise," said the weary Wendy, "I enjoyed it very much indeed.   Thank you."

      Early on Wednesday morning, Dr. Latham took Wendy into the hospital for an hour, leaving Barbara to pack suitcases and buy birthday gifts for two very special people.   By half past ten all three of them were in a taxi, weaving their way through London traffic towards Heathrow.

      "I reckon we're going to meet someone," said Wendy, already very suspicious of the frantic goings-on.

      "That could be true," Barbara said, smiling to herself.

      "But only someone connected with one of my patients," added Cyril, determined to sustain the secret for as long as possible.

      "Hm!" Wendy observed.   "We're bringing a lot of luggage, just to meet someone."

      "Indeed we are," he agreed.   "That's largely my wife's fault.   I'm afraid women are like that sometimes."

      At Heathrow, Barbara distracted the child in a bookstall while her husband went to the check-in desk.

      "I can remember Daddy doing that," Wendy informed her.   "Cyril's checking himself in for a flight!"

      "Something like that," Barbara had to admit.   "Flying's quicker than going by car."

      "Yes, safer too," came Wendy's opinion.

      The trio filed past the passport control desk, and before long were making their way down a narrow sloping jetway onto the aircraft.

      "Am I allowed to ask questions?" chirped Wendy.   "We're not going to Disney World again, are we?"

      "Not this time, sweetheart," Barbara explained.   "But I'm sure you'll like what you see when we get there."

      "To be perfectly honest, Wendy," said the doctor, "as I told you before, this trip is connected with my work at the hospital.   I have to attend a meeting in a place called Anaheim, involving one of my most difficult patients."

      "Which one?"

      "Now, now.   Doctors can't discuss such details, Potato-face, you know that."

      Wendy accepted this reply without question, her attention soon diverted by the thrill of taking-off and a steep climb into the clouds.   For much of the flight she slept, thanks to the tiring activities of the day before.   When she awoke, the sun was shining very brightly out of an almost navy blue sky.

      "This does seem an awfully long day," she remarked with a yawn.

      "Remember," said Cyril, trying not to yawn himself, "you were up late last night and early this morning.   It's bound to seem long to someone of your age."

      The day may have been eight hours longer than usual but Wendy was no longer sleepy.   She chattered to her companions without a break, asking dozens of questions which they managed in various ways to evade.   By the time they reached the Pacific seaboard the sun was low in the western sky, but Wendy was still bright and chirpy.

      "Yes," said Cyril, half in a dream.   "There's no denying it.   This trip is certainly for the benefit of my most difficult patient."

      "A challenging case," Barbara added quietly.   "But on reflection, a rewarding one, eh?"

      With his eyes closed, Cyril felt for his wife's hand.

      "It's been tough on you, I know," he murmured.   "But thanks for understanding."

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