Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [8]
Another murmur ran through the hall. ‘Silence!’ cried the headmaster. ‘The doctor needs quiet. He has to listen to your chests.’ Everyone except Taylor obeyed. He was whispering threats into Johnny’s ear, blaming him for Mr Wilson’s attack. ‘If you weren’t so small, he’d never have been able to see me,’ he said, while Ernest Roberts surreptitiously ground his heel onto Johnny’s foot as they stood in line. Johnny looked round the hall to see if Olwen was being taunted too. He spotted Mrs Palmer’s class, but she wasn’t among them.
Dr Langford came to the front of the stage and explained what he was going to do. ‘Now, children, I am going to listen to your lungs, but you’re also going to have a special test, which will show us very soon whether you have been infected. All I have to do is make a little scratch on your wrist …’
There was a mass cry of ‘Urggh!’
‘… No, really, you will hardly notice it, and in two or three days I’ll be able to tell whether any of you might need treatment. But don’t worry. That’s very unlikely indeed.’
The doctor briskly examined each child. Occasionally he asked the school nurse to make a note of something, or had a little chat with a child he knew well. When Johnny’s turn came he smiled. ‘Well, I never thought I’d be doing all this when I saw you this morning,’ he said.
‘What are you checking for?’ asked Johnny.
‘TB, I’m afraid,’ said Dr Langford, scraping Johnny’s wrist while he was distracted. He lifted Johnny’s vest and listened to his stethoscope. ‘But I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about, my boy. Your chest is nice and clear.’ The school nurse put a tick against Johnny’s name, and moved the line on.
When everyone had been dealt with, the headmaster had a quick conversation with the doctor while the last of the children got back into their clothes. Then he called for quiet again and addressed the school. ‘I’m sure we’re all very grateful to Dr Langford for giving up his time to come here today. Now, there’s no more time for lessons, so we’ll stay here in the hall until home-time. Mr Wilson, perhaps you would like to lead us in some prayers.’
Mr Wilson stepped forward and prayed for the safe recovery of sick people everywhere. As the bell went to mark the end of the day, everyone burst into the same question: who was the child whose family illness had caused all this fuss?
In the playground, Albert Taylor’s sister rushed up, flushed with pride at being able to tell her big brother the news. ‘It’s that new girl,’ she said. ‘The one I told you about. The Owl. Mrs Palmer says she’s gone back to Wales. Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Taylor.
‘It’s TB,’ said Johnny, glad to have inside information, and hoping it would earn him some credit with Taylor. ‘The doctor told me.’
‘And what’s that, then?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Johnny. ‘But Olwen told me her family were ill.’
Taylor sneered, ‘Yes. You were talking to The Owl last night, weren’t you, Quacky?’ He pulled his sister away from Johnny. ‘Better keep away from you. You might have it too. We all might catch it.’
‘But the doctor says I’m all right,’ said Johnny as the crowd of children ran off.
Mr Wilson approached. He was trying in vain to catch Albert Taylor before he dodged his punishment for trying to cheat in the scripture test. Johnny plucked up the courage to ask him what TB was.
Mr Wilson shook his head. ‘It’s a very grave disease. A very grave disease indeed. It attacks the lungs. It can be deadly. We’ve had it here once before – a bad outbreak during the war. Several families were affected. We lost some pupils. That’s why they built the big sanatorium at Emberley. But there hasn’t been a case in this school since. Let’s hope this is just a false alarm.’
Johnny ran to pick up his bag of newspapers at the shop. He took a detour through the graveyard towards the end of his paper round. This time he looked at the dates on some of the gravestones. There were a lot from 1916. He noticed some family groups. Three of the Roberts family were buried