Fic: Troubled Times chapter 21

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times
Chapter 21
Author: Emerald
Beta : jestana and windysame Thank you very much! I greatly appreciate your work!
Inspiration and Encourager: ironicbees
Rating: Mature.
Disclaimer: Wooster and Jeeves belong to Wodehouse.
Summary: The story deals with the time before, during, and after WWII.
A/N: July 1940. The fog poem belongs to Carl Sandburg. Grow Old Along With Me is by Robert Browning.

 

 

It was at the start of the second week of July that I began to feel concern over Mr. Wooster's health. He had headaches every afternoon, and I knew his throat was frequently sore. For a few days, I told myself not to worry; that the strain of the times was wearing on my employer.

Early one afternoon, I was musing over my employer's health when an idea occurred to me. I hastened to the drawer where Mr. Wooster's cigarettes were kept. I tended to avoid the area as much as possible, checking and replenishing his supply once every three weeks. I was no longer experiencing cravings for a smoke, but the memory of them was enough to cause me to avoid close proximity to his cigarettes. I had stocked up so Mr. Wooster would not experience lack during the war, but I knew how many packs were normally gone through since I had last re-stocked.

I opened the drawer and counted the packs. More than half of what usually were gone remained in the drawer.

That afternoon when Mr. Wooster arrived home, I was prepared. I quickly mixed one of my special cocktails for him, took a glass of water, and a bowl of apple sauce from the refrigerator. I wetted a cloth with cold water and fetched a spoon. I placed it all on a tray, sprinkled some cinnamon on the apple sauce, and took it out to where he was resting on the settee. His eyes were closed, and there was a look of strain about his temples.

I sat the tray on the stand next to the settee. With a gentle hand, I placed the cloth across his forehead. He smiled and said, “Thank you, my little cat.”

“Sir?”

“You're so quiet. It reminds me of a poem. It goes, 'The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbour and city on silent haunches and then moves on.' ”

I pulled a chair to the side of the settee. “Thank you, sir. If you will shift to your side slightly I will massage your neck for you.”

My employer moved to his side. I began to rub his neck. I said, “I was thinking of another poem, a line of which I said to you when we spoke our vows. 'Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be.' Despite the times, I still believe that.”

He was quiet for a moment. I comprehended that he was probably remembering the first time I spoke that line to him. I had returned home from vacation. I did not know that Mr. Wooster was planning to ask me for a gentleman's agreement. I had known, however, that I was longing for something that would give us a sense of having made a commitment to each other. I had whispered the words in his ear and discovered, to my delight, that he had simply been waiting for an opening to ask me to have an agreement with him. Only a few months later, I had stood at his side and said the words again. I had held out my hand, and he had put his hand in mine.

Mr. Wooster said, “I can still feel the happiness of that day, Jeeves. It still awes me.”

He reached out and squeezed my hand. “You know, what?”

“Would I be correct in believing that you are attempting to cease smoking?”

Mr. Wooster answered, “No, Jeeves. What's happening is the ciggys are trying to kill me for quitting them. I was going to wait until I could give you an accomplishment as you did me, but it's best that you've found out. I'm worrying Heffie, and Bingo has been casting anxious looks the Wooster way, too. Bingo offered me a cigarette yesterday, as he says the war is making me jumpy. So I need to tell them, but I wanted to let you know first.”

“I have been concerned, too, sir.”

Mr. Wooster turned to face me. “It's the afternoons that are the rummiest. Right at the hour...”

Spying the drinks on the stand, he asked, “Is that one of your cocktails, old chap?”

“Yes, sir, for the headache. I have also brought you a glass of water. I found sipping water to be a minor aid in resisting the urge to smoke. It also helped to diminish the increased appetite somewhat.”

While I spoke, he sat up, put the cloth aside, and drank the cocktail. When he was finished, my employer said, “Thank you. At the time I normally reach for that third cigarette, I start longing for one, and then my head begins to ache. So it's due to the cigarettes, and nothing for you to fret over. The throat hurts because of the blasted coughing that seems to take the first few hours I'm awake.”

Suddenly Mr. Wooster laughed. “You tell me, Jeeves, why five minutes of heaven with you seems to go by on speedy wings, whereas five minutes of bally hell craving a cigarette drags on snail's feet. If snails had feet, that is.”

“I do not have the answer to that, sir, although I have had the same experience. I suspect that it has to do with the relativity of time. I will say that I have never found it humorous.”

“I don't really find it so myself, but...” he shrugged, “whether one laughs or cries the fact will not change. Might as well laugh.”

“If one can, sir.”

He studied me for a moment, then said, “Still having cravings, old chap?”

“No, sir. I am currently experiencing no problems. The memory, however, remains.”

Mr. Wooster took a sip of the water. He sighed. “I really don't want to give up my last two ciggys of the day, but the temptation of having them nearby when I'm home is becoming too much. If you make them all disappear, I'll not jib.”

I nodded. “And if you ask for one, sir?”

“Tell me to go boil my head.”

My expression must have been enough to reveal my thoughts, because Mr. Wooster grinned. “I know; you'd never address me that way and all that rot.”

He became very serious and said, “Very well. If I start begging you for one, tell me that you can't get them. Sippy says they are hard to get now.”

“Indeed, sir. I can trade what we have left for tea, if you wish.”

“I do! That helps. You were right about being able to taste things better. Even weak tea seems stronger.” He reached for the bowl. “That's another rummy thinggummy. I'm hungry all the time now.”

I ran a hand tenderly down his side. “You have always been slender. A few more pounds will not harm you.”

“With all the rumminess going on, it hardly seems the time to add meals to my day.”

“A little more food on your part can easily be managed. You have accomplished a great deal. I know how difficult it is, and I appreciate the sacrifice, sir. I have no desire to live for eighty-five years if you are not at my side.”

Mr. Wooster finished the apple sauce. He said, “Headache's almost gone.”

“I am glad, sir. I will help you in this endeavour.”

“Then the battle is mostly won.” He smiled at me and said, “Thank you, old chap.”

“You are welcome, sir.”

Outside our residence, the war continued. I often listened to accounts of the battles occurring in the English Channel. My employer paid them close attention, also. We were both hoping to not hear the name of the ship that Mr. Thomas Gregson was assigned to, or the one where Mr. Potter-Pirbright served. Mr. Gregson had informed his mother that he could not give her details of his location. Mr. Potter-Pirbright had told us before he left that his ship would be escorting trade ships from America.

The extra tasks due to the war required time, but my thoughts were mostly on how to be of assistance to Mr. Wooster. When he set his breakfast tray aside to cough in the morning, I would put a hand on his back in encouragement. I treated his sore throat with a special water and herbs blend. I learned to recognise the symptoms of when a craving was harassing my employer. He would start to fidget and sigh. If left alone, he would soon be pacing. Once I could easily discern the signs, I worked to ease them. I kept apples or some other snack in readiness and would swiftly prepare it for him, the instant I noticed discomfort on his part. When the restlessness commenced, I would present the food along with a glass of water that I kept in the refrigerator to him. I also distracted him by more pleasurable means.

One afternoon a week and a half later, Mr. Wooster had been reading quietly on the settee for over an hour. I noted the moment when his fingers started thumping the back of the book, even though he was not loud with the action. I hastily got to my feet and went to the kitchen where I retrieved the apple salad and cold water from the refrigerator.

When I arrived back into the room, he was sitting up, the book set aside. As soon as he saw I had returned to the lounge, my employer said, “Jeeves, I don't think I'm going to be able to do this. I don't suppose you kept one of those ciggys?”

“No, sir.”

He looked appealingly at me. “Not even one?”

“No, sir.”

“Could you get me one easily?”

I hesitated. Remembering my instructions, I replied, “Sir, I regret to inform you that I can not obtain them. You have come very close now. It would be a shame to...”

To my surprise, Mr. Wooster started to laugh. After a second, he ceased and gave me a smile. “I'm sorry, Jeeves. You really should learn to tell the old master to go boil his head. It's much easier.”

“Such a statement is neither tactful or loving, sir. It would, however, be disrespectful. Perhaps you should brace up and try to keep a stiff upper lip about it. You have gone a week and a half without a cigarette. The cravings should begin to ease soon. It may be a while before they completely disappear, but they do get easier to deal with.”

As I spoke, he took the bowl and glass from me. Mr. Wooster started to eat in a manner that suggested he was starving, but I knew he was simply trying to tame the urge to smoke. I moved behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sir, when you are finished we could retire to my bedroom. I find myself suddenly desiring...” I paused and then said, “...a nap.”

His face lit up, and I knew that, for the moment, the desire to smoke had been forgotten.

The struggle to quit smoking was not over for my employer, but never again did Mr. Wooster ask me for a cigarette. My own feelings concerning this matter distressed me. Despite firmly believing that ceasing to smoke was good for Mr. Wooster's welfare, I disliked the hardship he was experiencing. I was accustomed to providing for his needs and making his life as easy as possible.

One evening when he was contending with the desire to smoke, I even considered whether I should continue to encourage Mr. Wooster to cease the habit. Watching him suffer was trying on my heart, and while I did all I could to ease his discomfort, I knew it was not enough. He had to endure just as I had.

I slipped quietly into the room and studied him. Mr. Wooster was sitting on the settee, sipping water and looking exhausted from the effort to quit smoking.

Mr. Wooster looked up at me and smiled. “Did you find a lemon, Jeeves?”

“Sir?”

“You look like you've tasted something you wished you hadn't. I'm managing, old chap. What's that you have there? It looks and smells delicious. Not something to bring anguish to the map.”

I moved farther into the room and commenced to serve him. “Carrot cake and strong coffee, sir. My apologies for appearing grim. I just abhor seeing you battle with cravings.”

“There's a silver lining to it. More than one, in fact. I've survived two weeks with no ciggys at all. The coughing fit was small this morning. Not like the ones where I thought my lungs were trying to come up the old master's throat. The headache wasn't so bad this afternoon. The hands aren't shaking today.”

Mr. Wooster took a long sip of coffee. “Wright serves me coffee, too, when he sees I'm about to have a headache. It helps a lot. What exactly am I doing that tells you two that the pain is beginning?”

“You rub your head, sir, and sigh. Sometimes you reach for cigarettes and sigh again or looked pained.”

Mr. Wooster had another bite of the carrot cake. “This is marvellous, Jeeves. One of the best silver linings is that I don't taste of cigarettes any more when we kiss. I know you said you didn't mind, but I'm glad for it.”

My employer's mood was clearly not harmed by his trials, and I regretted my brief moment of doubt. My duty was to support and encourage Mr. Wooster, not to discourage him.

Perhaps it was due to my ceaseless efforts to aid him, but Mr. Wooster never exhibited the feelings of irritation that had so troubled me. I was very aware, however, that my employer's nature being what it was, it was probable that a sense of annoyance at times was not bothering him. Certainly, he never gave me any indication of pique. I did see frustration on his part, usually taking place around the hour that he normally had the third cigarette. Fortunately, the headaches became more and more infrequent, ceasing altogether as the hot July days melted into August.

 

Tbc

 

Comments

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

I find myself suddenly desiring...” I paused and then said, “...a nap.”

*GLEE*

Oh, Bertie, I love you so much. He's so sweet for giving up smoking, and Jeeves is himself again, doubting, then encouraging... *hugs them both*

Best part is, of course, the "TBC" :D

<3

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Jeeves knows how to distract Bertie. :) It was tougher on Bertie, of course, but it's never easy to watch a loved one struggle.

Next chapter is in the editing process and should be at my beta's later this week.

Thank you very much!

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

WOOHOO! :D

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[willdew.livejournal.com]

Adorable, as always. Gah, could they be any cuter? I like how he gets head-aches but doesn't get bitchy. He's so sweet-natured, whereas others generally would have huge temper tantrums trying to quit things. Shows his uniqueness without going OOC, methinks.

I melt from the cute, really. Ah, married life. <<;

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the reply! Bertie could have his unpleasant moments, but for the most part he had a very sweet nature. I think he would have his rough minutes with quitting, but I don't see him getting irritated. Just frustrated and unhappy. I'm glad he didn't seem OOC!

[sige-vic.livejournal.com]

“whether one laughs or cries the fact will not change. Might as well laugh.”
I do like Bertie's point :-)) And he is so in character in these words :-)
And also Jeeves' euphemistic suggestion about "nap" sounds adorable :-))
Thank you!

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Yes, that's exactly how I see Bertie, too. And I think being able to laugh despite the hardship makes him stronger. Jeeves knew a "nap" would take Bertie's thoughts from cigarettes. :)

Thank you for commenting!

[jestana.livejournal.com]

This was lovely. I really like how Jeeves doesn't like seeing Bertie going through the trials of quitting. Even though he knows it'll be beneficial for Bertie in the end, there's still that part of him that doesn't like seeing Bertie uncomfortable in anyway. *happy sigh*

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the reply and letting me know what you especially liked! It can be really tough to watch someone you love struggle, and Jeeves is used to tending to Bertie and keeping him comfortable.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

You're welcome! It's perfectly in-character for Jeeves, even though he knows intellectually, it still tugs at the heartstrings.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

That's how I see Jeeves, too. Hugs.

[ironicbees.livejournal.com]

I nearly forgot to read this!

Jeeves's attentiveness is touching. And I'm so proud of Bertie for trying to quit smoking! :D I think being able to spend many more years with Jeeves is probably the only thing that would convince him to do so (short of the info on the nasty effects of smoking we have nowadays).

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the reply and letting me know what you'd liked! I tried to show their love for each other through their actions; Bertie in enduring something so difficult, and Jeeves with his care and concern. Yes, Bertie is looking to the future and wanting those years with Jeeves.

[random-c.livejournal.com]

...It's just occurred to me that I'm sitting here chain smoking while reading this. argh.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

It's very hard to quit. I mainly decided to have them quit from a belief that they would live longer and because cigarettes were hard to get during the war. I read some descriptions of people wanting them during the war that was sad, so having them quit meant one less trouble for them.

[random-c.livejournal.com]

I was rabidly anti-smoking as a kid, too, then some time in my 20s, I became a fucking idiot. *shrugs* I'll quit some time, but I think I'll have to go live somewhere there's no comms and no smokes and plenty to do for a couple of weeks to do it. If I'm busy, I don't think about it. As soon as I'm relaxing, MUST SMOKE. Anyone mentions smoking or cigarettes, MUST SMOKE. *sigh*

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

That's rough! Hugs.

[random-c.livejournal.com]

Willpower, what's *that*? :)

[gini-baggins.livejournal.com]

I find myself suddenly desiring...” I paused and then said, “...a nap.”

Heeee, oh Jeeves you rascal, you :D

Come on Bertie you can do it! :)))

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Jeeves knows how to distract Bertie. :)

I was hesitant about making this change in Wodehouse's characters but decided to for two reasons. The first being a desire to increase their chances of living a long life. The second was reading about how hard it was to get cigarettes during the war and reading accounts of how miserable people were because of needing one and not being able to get one.

Thank you!