Gwyn watched as she entered the living room, pulling the door closed behind her. At the sound of the latch catching on the clip, he put his glass down and came to lean in front of me, bringing his face in line with my own. He reached out, sweeping my hair across my forehead then tracing his finger through my stubble and down to my chin before dropping his hand to my own and holding it tightly.
“I want to kiss you,” he said and I tried to laugh at the idea, though it sounded more like a singular raspy breath of air escaping my throat. I was still in my undergarments and sweating profusely. I looked and felt disgusting.
“Don’t,” I said, partly from feeling too ill for sweet talk and partly because I still wasn’t sure if his sweet talk was something I wanted to hear.
“Please, Tom, I said I’m sorry.”
“It’s not the time, Gwyn, not with everything that’s going on.”
“Don’t you see?” he said, clenching my hand tighter. “It’s exactly the time. We don’t know what’s going to happen. What if you get sick like Howell? I couldn’t bear to lose you and you not knowing how I feel.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“So, you’re going to stay?”
“I didn’t say that. I mean, I’m not going to die.”
“You can’t know that, Tom. None of us can.”
“But I do know that,” I replied, and his face became confused. “Where I’m from, diphtheria is pretty much non-existent. They’ve found treatments and cures. I’ve had a vaccine for it. I guess I’m just sick because it’s been so long since I had it, but I’ll be ok. My body can fight it off.”
I was only half sure that what I was saying was correct but I needed him to believe it. More than that, I needed myself to believe it. He seemed confused by what I was telling him but as the words sunk in, so did the relief, and he dropped his head to rest on our clasped hands.
“So, you’ll be ok?” he asked.
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean that you will be,” I said, pulling my hands away from him. “You need to stop touching me. And keep washing your hands.”
I leaned back, exhausted, and rubbed at my eyes trying to wake myself up a little.
“Come on,” he said, getting to his feet. “You need to get back to bed. You look awful.”
“Thanks,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. I got myself up onto my feet and Gwyn rushed to get his hands under my arms to keep me steady as he guided me to the bottom of the stairs. Once he was sure I had reached the top safely he disappeared back into the kitchen.
“How are you feeling?” Nellie asked as I entered the bedroom. She, Nan and Mrs Hopkin were all sitting on Teddy’s bed staring at Howell, watching for any sign of change. I climbed into my bed on the other side of the room, pulling the single thin sheet I’d been left with up to my chin, and propped myself against the metal bar that stood in for a headboard.
“Like I could sleep for a week,” I replied. “How is he doing?”
Howell was pale and his breathing shallow. Whatever the doctor had spotted in his throat was causing him to gasp and gurgle with every breath and it sounded painful. His eyes were closed but I wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or unconscious and I didn’t want to ask which it might be. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.
“There’s been no change, which I think is perhaps a good thing,” Nellie replied. “He’s certainly no worse.”
“Is Betty looking after Sophia?”
“She’s gone to lie down,” Nan replied. “She’s beginning to feel unwell now, too.”
“Why?” Mrs Hopkin spoke up, removing the handkerchief she’d been holding to her mouth. “Why did Sophia not tell us she was sick? If her school mistress knew there was something in the air then why did she not tell anyone? We could have done something. We could have had more time.”
“You can’t think like that,” Nellie said. She put her hand on her mother's knee as some sort of reassurance but it did little to alleviate her anguish.
“And that doctor...” she continued. “No heart. No heart at all.”
“I did find him pretty blunt,” I added.
“Drunk, he was,” Mrs Hopkin said, her face filled with contempt. “Gethin had to fetch him from a billiards room. Disgusting.”
A noise came from the hallway causing everyone to look up, and Gwyn poked his head around the door and then stepped inside. It was getting cramped in the bedroom and I could feel myself getting hotter for the first time all night.
“Good timing, Gwyn,” Nellie said, taking to her feet. “I need you to help me lift Howell upright. We have to give him his medicine.”