Ambulance Girls Under Fire

by Deborah Burrows

  ‘Actually, I need a quick word with you, Celia. I know you’re probably dead on your feet, but could I pop up to your flat for a minute?’

  Once we were in the flat I offered her tea, which she refused, saying, ‘I’m only staying for a minute.’ She looked at my face. ‘No bandage? Looks like your wound is healing well. I doubt there will be much of a scar at all.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said coolly, ‘Simon Levy stitched it beautifully. I owe him a great deal.’

  Lily turned away to smile at Bobby, who was in his big cage on the table in the corner, watching us. The black iris was tiny in his yellow eyes. ‘The bird’s settled in well? He looks a lot healthier than when we got him. I think he’s getting some new feathers.’

  I turned a sceptical eye on the bird. ‘I think it takes a while for feathers to grow back. He seems happy enough, though.’

  ‘Still not talking?’

  ‘Very occasionally he says he’s Bobby and asks my name, but otherwise, not a word. What did you want to tell me, Lily?’ I didn’t want to be rude, but I could scarcely stand upright, I was so tired.

  She gave me a wary smile. ‘It’s just that…’ She paused, then said, ‘I thought you should know that Simon Levy will be part of the wedding group.’

  ‘Simon Levy,’ I muttered. My voice became louder. ‘Simon Levy. Simon Levy. I cannot seem to go anywhere or do anything without Simon Levy being there. And he positively hates me.’

  Lily laughed. ‘He’s lovely. Apart from the fact that he’s lovely, I wanted to invite him to … well, to stand in for David, really.’

  I swallowed, and turned to look at Bobby. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I think you exaggerate how much he dislikes you. He’s said only nice things about you to us.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Oh, about how brave you are.’

  ‘To a foolish degree.’

  She laughed again. ‘Well, he did suggest that we try to convince you to take fewer risks.’

  ‘He can talk. He takes appalling risks all the time.’

  ‘You’re as bad as each other, Celia.’

  I ran my finger along the bars of Bobby’s cage. ‘He had to leave some wounded soldiers behind at Dunkirk, and I think he now feels compelled to try to save the world.’ I shrugged. ‘He might think I’m brave, but he doesn’t like me.’

  Bobby walked along the perch and surveyed me closely. He stopped, bobbed up and down a couple of times and then stretched out his neck and squawked, ‘Simon Levy. Simon Levy.’

  Lily gave a peal of laughter as a black wave of horror engulfed me. I would never be able to invite anyone to my flat, not ever again. Could I ship Bobby to Scotland? I had cousins in Mull. Was that far enough? How could I introduce the bird to Leo Weitz now? Leo.

  ‘Oh, dear Lord,’ I said, in tragic tones, ‘he’s coming here this afternoon.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Si—him. He’s bringing Leo to meet Bobby.’

  ‘Who’s Leo?’

  ‘An Austrian refugee boy who’s staying with the Levys.’

  Would Leo believe that Bobby had died? No, I couldn’t do that. It would be too cruel. My mind whirled through the possibilities. Leo had never seen Bobby. He wouldn’t know if I substituted another parrot. But where could I get another bald parrot at such short notice? The truth was like a drench of cold water. I couldn’t find another parrot by this afternoon. It had to be Bobby, who would squawk out Simon’s name and I would simply die.

  ‘No, Bobby,’ I said, in a tightly controlled voice. ‘Please don’t say that. Try to repeat this. God Save the King. Come along, Bobby, say God Save the King. God Save the King.’

  ‘That’s a good one,’ said Lily, who was still laughing. ‘God Save the King. You can do that, Bobby, God Save the King.’ Then, to me, ‘Bet you wish you’d let me teach him Waltzing Matilda.’ At my look, she grinned and turned to the bird. ‘C’mon, Bobby, God Save the King.’

  Bobby bobbed again on his perch and opened his beak. ‘Simon Levy’ he said. ‘Simon Levy.’

  I whirled around to plop down on the sofa beside Lily who was again in whoops. ‘Oh, bloody hell,’ I said.

  ‘Celia!’ said Lily.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Bobby. ‘Bloody hell, Simon Levy.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘Simon Levy,’ I bellowed as I opened the door later that afternoon. ‘Look, Bobby, it’s Simon Levy. And Leo Weitz. They’ve come to see you.’ I ushered Simon and Leo inside as Bobby watched, and listened, from his cage.

  After Lily left I had fallen into a deep and much needed sleep and had awakened six hours later with a Plan, one that was quite brilliant in its simplicity. I would tell the doorman to let Simon and Leo come straight up to the flat, and that would mean I could greet Simon by his full name when I opened the door to him. And I would repeat Simon’s name when he was in the flat. That way, if Bobby squawked it out, the obvious conclusion would be that the bird had just picked it up.

  ‘Celia Ashwin’, responded Simon, polite but obviously bemused. Leo gave me his formal little bow.

  Simon gestured towards Bobby’s cage. ‘Look, Leo, there is the parrot.’

  Leo walked over to Bobby’s cage. He stood absolutely still and solemnly stared at the bird. Bobby’s yellow eyes with their ink-dark pupils, set deeply in concentric circles of grey wrinkled flesh, observed Leo in turn. I went across the room to stand beside the boy. Bobby’s glittering gaze moved to me and he bent his head at an enquiring angle, as if to ask, ‘Who is this you have brought to see me?’

  ‘Bobby,’ I said in a ceremonial kind of address, ‘this is Leo Weitz.’ I half-turned and waved at Simon, raising my voice slightly. ‘And this is Simon Levy.’

  I glanced back at Simon, who was observing my antics with a perplexed smile. So I added, with an attempt at light-heartedness, ‘One should always treat parrots with dignity.’

  I looked down at Leo, who was now regarding me, rather than the parrot. His expression, I thought, reflected Simon’s bemusement. So I continued the theme with a touch of desperation, ‘Rather like bees, really. Our head gardener would always introduce new members of the household to the bees, and whisper any family news to the hive. “We must always tell the bees”, he would say, “Whisper it to the bees”.’

  Leo continued to stare at me. His unblinking dark gaze was as intimidating as the parrot’s. ‘I think parrots deserve as much consideration as bees,’ I finished limply.

  Inside, however, I exulted. I had conceived and executed the Plan without any hitches. The bees embellishment had come to me in the moment, but I thought it was a good one. The Plan had worked! If Bobby said Simon’s name now, it would surprise no one.

  I turned and smiled at Simon. In fact, I positively beamed at him. His look of bemusement turned to alarm. I moderated the wattage and nodded at him.

  ‘Just like the bees,’ I said, and turned to Leo, who was again watching the parrot. Bobby walked along his perch, back and forth in a slow, stately manner, but always keeping a beady parrot eye on the boy.

  ‘Celia,’ Simon had come up to stand directly behind me, and I started with surprise.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. Then, with one eye on Leo, continued in a low voice, ‘Please accept my apology for my behaviour earlier this morning. I was fast asleep and when you shook me awake I was dreaming of – of something – not you. I wasn’t thinking clearly.’

  I said, graciously, ‘Please don’t concern yourself with it.’ Then I gave a short laugh. ‘Poor you. I know I’d be furious if some annoying ambulance girl ripped me out of my dreams into a chilly morning after too little sleep.’

  Simon smiled. It was an open, attractive smile, the sort of smile you’d give a friend. I smiled back at him. Our eyes met. All at once, the room seemed smaller, as if it had contracted to the space – not more than two steps – between us and my heart gave a painful little jerk.

  A sharp rap sounded at the door, and we both started with surprise. Simon turned abruptly toward
s Leo and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. I had the sense that the world had spun away from me and I shivered, as if I had been doused in cold water. When I glanced again at Simon, he was standing very still beside Leo and watching Bobby’s slow pacing up and down his perch. All I felt now was a slight feeling of embarrassment, although I wasn’t sure why. Confused, and more than a little angry at myself, I marched to the door and pulled it open.

  Cedric was standing in the doorway.

  My first thought was anger at Cedric for arriving without any warning at my door. Then I noticed the small hold-all Cedric was carrying and my skin prickled. I put an arm across the doorway, symbolically barring his entrance.

  My tone was coolly polite as I stated what Squire would have called the bleeding obvious. ‘So you’re back.’

  I was determined not to invite him in, no matter how rude I might seem to be. Cedric had never been in my flat, because I had leased it after he had been arrested, and for some reason I simply could not bear the thought of him coming inside the first home I had ever had to myself. Somehow if he could do that then it was tantamount to giving him leave to enter my life again.

  ‘I’m back,’ he said with a smile. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Cedric, of course it’s marvellous that they’ve released you, but I’m awfully busy just now.’

  Cedric’s smile became fixed and his glance flicked past me to settle on Simon and Leo, who were still standing by the parrot cage. Simon kept his back to us, but Leo twisted around to look at us.

  Cedric raised an eyebrow. ‘A Jewish boy?’ His voice was low, for me alone. ‘The child looks Jewish. I know you work with them, but really, darling. Letting them in your home?’

  ‘They are my guests.’

  ‘Get rid of them, darling. We have things to discuss.’

  ‘Ye-es. We do have things to discuss, but not now. Could we meet later in the week? Lunch?’

  He lifted the small bag he was carrying. ‘But darling, I was hoping to stay with you here, at least until we can find somewhere more suitable.’

  ‘No.’ My voice was louder than I had intended and in my peripheral vision I saw Simon stiffen. I moderated my tone and lowered my voice. ‘I cannot put you up here, Cedric. The flat is too small, and – and I don’t want to.’

  His expression was amused rather than annoyed. I was angry with myself. I should have said that I didn’t want him to stay with me before I made the silly ‘flat too small’ excuse. Knowing Cedric and his supreme self-confidence, he would think that I might have taken him in if the flat had been bigger. But Cedric had always made me tongue-tied. If I had known that he would turn up that afternoon I would have prepared a dignified little speech about how it was over between us and that I was determined to divorce him, no matter what.

  Instead, I spoke in a strangled voice, falling over my words and not making anything clear. ‘I don’t – we’re not – I mean, it’s not—’ I faltered under Cedric’s amused look and finished with a hissing whisper, ‘It’s different now. I’m different. I told you in my letters. I want a divorce.’

  Behind me, Simon was talking to Leo in a low, measured tone. It was something about parrots and what they ate, and how they should be looked after. I strained to catch his words and missed some of Cedric’s reply.

  ‘…as Helen suggested. As for the divorce, darling, we will talk about that later, when we’re alone. All will be well, I promise. But now, I’ll leave you to your guests.’ He picked up his case, turned around and sauntered away down the corridor.

  I closed the door and turned around. Simon was still looking at Bobby, but from the stiff set of his shoulders I thought he was angry. I said, more to myself than to Simon, ‘Why would he come here?’

  Simon twisted around to glare at me and reply, in a hard, sharp voice that was utterly unlike his usual tone, ‘How the devil should I know? You married the man.’

  There was not a hint of the light-hearted friendship Simon had displayed earlier.

  The boy must have picked up the anger in his voice because his eyes were wide with distress. I flashed Simon a look. He put a hand on Leo’s shoulder and said, ‘Don’t worry, Leo. Celia and I are discussing adult matters. We are not annoyed with you or Bobby.’

  I smiled reassuringly at the boy and said in as calm and pleasant a voice as I could manage, ‘Of course not. Why don’t we let Bobby out for a walk?’

  I saw a question in Leo’s eyes, so I went on. ‘Bobby likes to wander around the flat. And he especially likes to look out of the window. Once he climbed up my sleeve and stood on my shoulder.’ And what a terrifying experience that had been. I finished brightly, ‘Shall I open the cage door?’

  Leo nodded. There was a spark of interest in his eyes that made me happy, so I pushed thoughts of Cedric, and of Simon, from my mind and walked over to Bobby’s cage. I opened the door.

  ‘Stand back, and give him some room,’ I said.

  Bobby dropped down from his perch and waddled over to the doorway, where he stood, gazing at the three of us. Leo moved closer, then leaned towards the door to the cage and put out his arm. I was about to tell him to move away when, to my surprise, Bobby left the cage and stepped up on to the sleeve of Leo’s coat. The boy stood with his shoulders braced and his head held high but a quiver of excitement ran over him as the parrot ascended.

  Bobby walked solemnly, in a swaying gait, up the length of Leo’s arm. As he did so his sharp claws gripped the material as if it were a perch, but Leo did not flinch, so it seemed that only the material was being nipped. At last Bobby came to rest on the boy’s shoulder, from where he surveyed the flat. Then he turned his beady little eyes on Leo for a few seconds, before leaning down and whiffling the boy’s black hair with his big beak. It was a gentle gesture, nuzzling Leo just above his right ear.

  Leo smiled then, a real, boyish smile of delight, and one I had never seen him give before. He beamed at me, and then at Simon, and for once there was no shadow in his dark eyes, only pure happiness.

  ‘Simon Levy!’ Bobby squawked into his ear. Leo flinched at the sound, then his smile widened as he realised what he had heard. He turned towards Simon and his mouth was an ‘O’ of shocked delight.

  Simon looked shocked also. He glanced at me. ‘Why would the bird…?’

  And then Leo laughed. It was a rusty sound at first, as if he was out of practice, but it strengthened as Bobby spoke again, in his little-old-lady voice.

  ‘God Save the King!’ said Bobby.

  Leo’s soft, rusty-sounding laugh transformed into the high, infectious giggle of an eight-year-old boy. Simon smiled at him, then gave me a quizzical look.

  ‘Simon Levy,’ said Bobby. ‘Simon Levy. God Save the King! Bloody hell!’

  ‘Really, Celia, that bird is the absolute limit. Did you teach it that appalling language?’

  Helen turned away from the cage and began burrowing in her small evening purse. It was Tuesday evening, and she was on her way to dinner at the Savoy, wearing a blue chinchilla stole that would have cost the equivalent of a year’s salary for an ambulance girl.

  ‘No.’ That wasn’t a complete lie. Some of the unsavoury words Bobby had come out with in the past few days had not been taught to him by me. At least he had not mentioned Simon’s name since Helen had arrived.

  ‘The horrid thing sounds like a Liverpool sailor,’ said Helen with a sniff of displeasure as she extracted a lipstick from her purse.

  I went across to Bobby’s cage and covered it with the blanket, which silenced him.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Helen, in a martyred tone.

  ‘I like that the bird’s talking,’ I responded defiantly.

  ‘Cedric called by,’ she said, as if I’d not spoken. ‘He was devastated at your attitude towards him on Sunday afternoon. There was no need for rudeness.’

  ‘I wasn’t rude. I had guests and he appeared in the doorway, unannounced.’

  ‘He’s your husband, you silly girl.’ She pu
lled out a compact and peered at her reflection.

  ‘Not for long. Not if I can help it.’

  Helen’s reply was muffled, as she was reapplying her lipstick.

  ‘Must you be so ridiculously dramatic?’ she said at last, and smoothed the colour by rubbing her lips together sensuously. She smiled at her reflection. ‘You married him, Celia. You cannot simply throw him away now you’ve tired of him, or are embarrassed by his incarceration.’

  ‘It’s not—’ I took a calming breath. ‘He didn’t treat me well, you know. He ran around with half of London. The female half.’ There. I had told her.

  ‘They all do it,’ she replied serenely. ‘Not my Roly, of course. But husbands in our set often have other … interests. You married too young, Celia. You were naive. But that doesn’t alter the fact that you married Cedric and you cannot simply rid yourself of him on a whim.’

  I stared at her. ‘It’s not a whim.’

  Now she was combing her hair. ‘Of course it is. Marriage means loyalty and forgiveness. To be perfectly frank, I think working for that ambulance organisation has changed you.’ She glanced up at me. ‘For the worse. The people there have filled your head with bourgeois ideas. And why must you work at Bloomsbury House? It’s ridiculous when you know I’m desperate for help at Comforts for the Bombed.’

  Helen managed a small charity that distributed clothing and household effects to those who had been blitzed. She knew nothing about David, or my reasons for working with Mrs Levy.

  I took a cigarette from the box on the windowsill, but I didn’t light it. I was trying to reduce my smoking, but speaking to Helen always made me desperate for a cigarette. ‘Even if I could forgive Cedric’s almost constant infidelity,’ I said, ‘I cannot condone his fascist views now we are at war with the Nazis.’ I shook my head. ‘Hitler is a murderous monster. Cedric supports a murderous monster.’

  She paused. ‘Yes. I think Hitler really is as bad as you say. But who could have guessed it in the thirties?’

  The Jews, I thought. David had told me that they had known from the early 1930s what Hitler was doing to the Jews in Germany and Austria. Cedric had visited Berlin and had actually met Hitler around that time. He had once told me that only someone like Hitler could sort out the mess that Britain had got itself into. At one of his blackshirts meetings – I heard him say it – he suggested that the best thing for Britain would be a pogrom, and the following day his followers had dutifully smashed the windows of Jewish shops. His eyes had sparked with amusement when he was told about the incident. When I had told him how appalled I was he had cut me off, saying that he was not responsible for the actions of his followers if they took too literally what he said.