by Ellie Dean
‘They’ll monitor her pain relief so she stays comfortable,’ Julie said reassuringly. ‘Now, go to bed, Peggy, and try not to worry.’
Peggy gave her a weary smile. ‘Easier said than done,’ she replied, ‘but I’ll do my best. Goodnight, Julie, love.’
Julie stayed in the warm firelit kitchen long after Peggy had left, her thoughts drifting over the past two days in which so much had happened. It was strange to feel so at home here after such a short while, but she’d met so many lovely people and been made to feel so welcome, it was almost like being back in the East End again.
Julie had bathed and dressed after snatching another two hours of sleep before William woke demanding his breakfast. Afraid he would disturb everyone, she fed and washed him in the kitchen and then placed him tenderly in the lovely pram. The springs bounced silently and he was soon rocked gently to sleep in his cocoon of blankets.
It was still only six in the morning, so she moved quietly as she made her bed, unpacked her cases and tidied the room. Gathering up the dirty clothes from the floor, she eyed her mother’s dress with a wry smile. It seemed determined one way or another to get involved with bombing raids.
Down in the basement there was no sign of Ron or Harvey, who must be very early risers. She quickly worked out how to use the boiler and soon had a line of clean clothes and towelling nappies flapping in the breeze. It promised to be a lovely day after the heavy rain during the night, and she just hoped the Luftwaffe wouldn’t come along to spoil it.
Returning to the kitchen, she scrubbed her medical instruments clean and buffed up her leather bag. Once this was done to her satisfaction, she put the kettle on the range and crossed the hall to explore what looked like a formal dining room.
The windows had been boarded up, so it was gloomy, but she could see soot stains on the coving and in the ceiling rose, and patches where the wallpaper had begun to peel away, and the paint was chipped. Chairs had been stacked in one corner, the small tables pushed back against the wall, along with a rolled up carpet which had probably once covered the varnished floorboards. The room didn’t look as if it was used much.
Julie went back to the kitchen and began to set the table with cutlery and china. It would be a bit of a squash with seven sitting round the table, but that was how they’d managed back in Stepney before they’d all grown up and left home, and she had an idea that Peggy liked it that way too.
She made a pot of tea, pulled on a cardigan, and wandered out into the garden with her cup to enjoy the fresh, brisk air and early sunshine. The birds were singing and she could smell the saltiness of the sea as she stood there and regarded the large vegetable patch and the ugly Anderson shelter at the far end. It reminded her strongly of the back garden of the nurses’ hostel, except for the henhouse and birdsong. She gave a wry smile. The London birds were usually coughing like seasoned smokers at this time of the morning, their songs stifled by the heavy smog from thousands of chimneys.
Returning to the kitchen, she was greeted sleepily by two young women who were slumped over cups of tea. ‘Good morning,’ said the one with fiery red hair which seemed to have a life of its own beneath the nurse’s cap. ‘I’m Fran, and this old sleepyhead is Suzy. You must be Julie.’
Julie smiled with pleasure. ‘Hello. Nice to meet you at last. I hope William didn’t wake you in the night.’
‘Not at all,’ said Suzy through a vast yawn. ‘I just hate early shifts.’
‘William’s a darling wain, so he is,’ said Fran in her lilting Irish brogue. ‘To be sure, we’ve drawn up a rota to mind him, and it’ll be quite like home. Mammy had a baby every year, regular as clockwork, so she did, so I’ve plenty of practice.’
‘Everyone’s been ever so kind,’ Julie murmured.
Suzy looked at Julie over the rim of her teacup. ‘We’re just glad to help,’ she said, her vowels rounded and very English. ‘What with the war and everything, it’s only right to do what we can for each other.’
Fran hurried into the hall as the letter box clattered and returned with the newspaper. ‘Well,’ she breathed as she unrolled it, ‘would you look at that, Julie? You’ve made the front page of the local rag.’
Julie felt a frisson of horror as Fran held out the paper so they could both see the grainy black-and-white picture of her coming out of Eileen’s doorway with William in her arms. ‘Bloody hell,’ she breathed, reaching for it. ‘That’s going to put the cat among the pigeons and no mistake.’
‘I don’t see why,’ murmured Suzy. ‘It’s not a bad picture, considering you obviously didn’t know it was being taken.’
‘That’s not the point. My sister will blow a flaming gasket when she sees this.’ Her gaze swept over the screaming headline which almost filled the top third of the page:
Heroine Nurse Delivers Baby While Trapped
Below Ground
Julie raced through the short paragraph below and turned the page to discover more photographs taken at the bomb site. The reporter had obviously been skulking outside Eileen’s flat after the police had released him, and had certainly done his homework on her relationship to Eileen and her posting at Cliffe surgery. But the most harmful thing of all was his speculation over William’s identity. The piece might have been carefully worded, but it was all too clear he was insinuating that William was her illegitimate baby, and that Eileen had probably – and quite rightly – refused to take her in.
She closed the newspaper and slid it across the table. ‘I just hope the doctors don’t see that,’ she said crossly. ‘Because if they do, then I’ll probably be out on me ear before I’ve even started.’
‘Everyone will see it,’ said Suzy with a sigh. ‘It’s the local paper and the main source of cinema and theatre times, as well as advertising dances and such. But why should they sack you? You saved Anne and her baby, and were terribly brave going down into that hole.’ She shivered. ‘I know I couldn’t have done it, not for all the tea in China.’
‘I didn’t tell them about William when I applied for the job – or when I went for me interview the other day,’ Julie explained.
‘There’s no shame in raising your sister’s wain,’ said Fran stoutly. ‘Tell them the truth and be damned, is what I say. They need you more than you need them, and there’ll always be a job for a good nurse.’
‘Fran’s talking a lot of sense, for once.’ Peggy had bustled into the room, seen the headline, and quickly scanned the article. ‘Take her advice, Julie, and I’ll have a word with the editor about his scabrous reporter,’ she said furiously.
‘Scabrous?’ Fran giggled. ‘To be sure, that’s a hell of a word for this time of the morning, Peggy.’
Peggy grinned back as they all chuckled. ‘It is rather, isn’t it,’ she said proudly, ‘and although I’m not at all sure what it means, it felt just right.’ The dark mood having been broken, she pulled on her flowered apron, wrapped it round her slender frame and tied it firmly at the waist. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Who wants a boiled egg for breakfast?’
Julie checked that William was clean, fed and comfortable and that Peggy had everything she might need until she returned home. Peggy had had to shoo her out of the door as she’d dithered, but now she was finally on her way to the doctor’s surgery she felt ready to get stuck in and do battle if necessary.
Morning surgery had yet to begin, and when Julie arrived at the front door she was greeted by the sight of a large woman on her knees, her vast backside swaying like jelly beneath her floral wrap-round apron as she scrubbed the hall floor.
‘Hello, ducks,’ she said, sitting back on her heels and adjusting the scarf she’d tied over her curlers. ‘Maud’s the name, pleased to meet you.’ She gave a broad smile which revealed ill-fitting dentures. ‘I do for the doctors every morning, but I never expected to meet a real-life heroine,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘Quite made me day, it has.’
‘That’s quite enough chatter, Maud – and you’ve missed a bit.’ A tall, rather imposing young woman d
ressed in a starched and pristine nurse’s uniform stood on the other side of the hall and pointed to an almost indiscernible spot on the black-and-white tiled floor.
‘Right you are, Miss Beecham.’ Maud slowly got to her feet to wipe over the offending spot, muttering about them’s what give orders should have her arthritis and see how they liked it.
Julie bit back on a smile and, having heard something about this woman from Peggy and Kath, took the opportunity to give the posh-sounding Eunice Beecham the once-over. She was at least four inches taller than Julie, and attractive in a healthy, rather robust way, with fair hair, a trim figure, and a good complexion that needed little make-up. Eunice was probably in her early thirties, and sounded as if she was the product of a private girls’ school somewhere in the Home Counties. She was clearly proud of her position here at the surgery, but Julie suspected she would feel equally at home in a stable yard or on a hockey pitch.
Eunice must have become aware of her scrutiny, for she turned her very blue eyes on Julie and regarded her coolly.
If her imperious gaze was supposed to daunt Julie, she was mistaken, for having dealt with some of the most withering and terrifying matrons in London, Julie was quite capable of holding her own. ‘I’m Sister Harris,’ she said, as she carefully made her way across the still damp floor.
‘I know who you are,’ Eunice replied, looking down her patrician nose.
‘You must be Eunice Beecham,’ said Julie, gripping her medical bag.
‘Sister Beecham,’ she corrected. ‘You’re early,’ she added, almost as an accusation.
‘I know. I didn’t need extra time off as Dr Michael suggested, and Dr Sayers Senior asked me to be here by eight, so I could get me uniform sorted out.’ Julie’s Cockney accent sounded harsh after the dulcet tones of the other woman. ‘He also said you’d have me schedule and casebook, and that there’s a bicycle I could use on me rounds.’
The nostrils thinned as if they’d come in contact with a nasty smell. ‘What part of London do you actually come from?’
‘Stepney,’ Julie replied, lifting her chin, almost daring the woman to say more.
Eunice sniffed and turned on her heel. ‘As you appear to be splashed all over the newspapers this morning, the doctors will want to see you before we go any further,’ she said. ‘Wait in there.’
Julie walked into the large waiting room and sat down on one of the hard chairs, her medical bag gripped tightly on her knees. Eunice Beecham was a snooty cow, and no mistake, and it had been hard not to rise to her sneering. But Julie’s dad had always advised her to keep her brain in gear and her gob shut when goaded, and she was glad she’d heeded that advice today, for she could have given her a right mouthful – which would have only made things worse than they already were.
She eyed the posters on the wall exhorting women to inoculate their children, and informing them that coughs and sneezes spread diseases. There were others calling for women to join the VAD and the Land Army, and warning that careless talk cost lives. She looked at that one with a heavy heart. The reporter’s groundless gossip might have already cost her this job.
‘The doctors will see you now.’ Eunice led the way to the consulting room Julie had visited the other day, and tapped discreetly on the door before opening it.
Michael and his father both stood as she entered the room, and she was only vaguely aware of Eunice closing the door behind her. ‘I suppose you wanted to talk to me about that article in the paper?’ she said, forestalling any awkwardness.
‘I’m less concerned about that scurrilous piece of nonsense than I am about you lying to me over that child of yours,’ said the elderly doctor. ‘If you can lie about that, then how can I trust you with anything?’
‘I think we should let Sister Harris explain before we start accusing her, Father,’ said Michael quietly. He shot her a sweet smile of encouragement.
Bolstered by that smile, Julie told them everything, from her sister’s death to her arrival in Cliffehaven. ‘I didn’t tell you about William because, at the time, I thought me sister would help. Now I have Mrs Reilly and the girls at Beach View to look after him, and I can assure you, me work won’t suffer in any way because of him.’
‘But what if he’s taken ill?’ said the older man.
‘There are two other nurses in the guest house, and Peggy has enough experience as a mother to know what to do.’
‘It sounds as if you’ve really had your work cut out, but you seem to have made all the necessary arrangements,’ Michael murmured. ‘I admire your tenacity.’
‘Well, it’s all very irregular,’ said his father, reaching for his pipe. ‘In my day young women either had a career or became mothers. All this juggling with both will end in trouble, mark my words.’
Julie looked at him fearfully, her hands knotted tightly on her lap as an uneasy silence filled the room. This was it. This was the moment they’d dismiss her.
‘I think we should continue as planned, Father,’ said Michael calmly. ‘After all, we desperately need a district nurse and midwife, and Julie – Sister Harris – has more than proved her capability.’
Julie silently blessed Michael for his unwavering support and willed the old doctor to agree.
‘Hmmph.’ He sucked on his pipe, his eyes narrowed beneath the snowy brows as he considered the options. ‘All right, but on your head be it, Michael. I will not have this surgery disrupted every time she has to run off to tend to that baby. And if there’s any more scandal, then she’ll have to go. I can’t have the reputation of this surgery sullied.’ He glared at them both. ‘Be off with you,’ he rumbled. ‘Surgery starts in half an hour and I haven’t had my morning coffee yet.’
Michael caught Julie’s eye as they left the consulting room together. Maud was pretending to polish the wood panelling in the hall, and Julie just caught a glimpse of Eunice’s starched apron as she flitted into the waiting room. No doubt they’d both been earwigging.
‘Father’s bark is worse than his bite,’ said Michael apologetically. ‘He’ll soon calm down, you’ll see.’
‘I’m sure everything will be just fine once he realises I won’t let him down,’ she assured him, ‘but I will need the uniform he promised and somewhere to change.’
‘I’ll have Sister Beecham fetch it from the linen store. You can change in that cloakroom over there.’ He smiled that sweet, gentle smile which wiped away the years and softened the lines of care on his face. ‘Welcome to Cliffe surgery, Julie. I hope you’ll be happy here.’
She was about to reply when Eunice’s voice broke in. ‘Dr Michael, could I have a word, please?’
Michael gave Julie a sly wink and followed the bustling and efficient Eunice into the waiting room.
‘Never you mind, ducks,’ said Maud conspiratorially as she edged closer. ‘That one’s only jealous, you know. Never ’ad ’er picture in no paper, for a start, and you’re way prettier than the last district nurse.’
‘Thanks, Maud,’ said Julie, biting back a giggle. ‘I’d better get on, though, ’cos I’ve got the feeling I’m about to have a very busy day.’
She hurried into the waiting room and was just in time to see Michael disappearing into his consulting room. ‘Do you have me schedule and uniform, Sister Beecham?’ she asked, keeping her tone pleasant and her smile warm.
‘You are extremely fortunate the doctors are so understanding,’ Eunice said coolly. ‘But I am in charge here, and if you court further attention from the press, then I shall have no option but to advise them to dismiss you.’
Julie wanted so badly to defend herself, but realised it would only make things worse between them. ‘Can I have me uniform, please? I need to get on.’
‘It’s in the linen room, which is through that door over there.’ Eunice handed over the schedule, along with a rather tatty casebook and a dilapidated street map. ‘The volunteer nurses have their own lists today,’ she said frostily, ‘but I’m sure someone of your experience will manage adequately
without their help.’
Julie didn’t rise to the snub as she placed the map back on the other woman’s desk. ‘I have me own map,’ she said, just as coolly. ‘Where’s me bicycle?’
‘In the shed in the back garden.’ Eunice became engrossed in her appointment book and Julie left her to it.
The uniform was a pink-and-white striped cotton dress with starched collar and cuffs and a rather unflattering storm cap. The previous district nurse had been a large woman, and Julie struggled for a while to tuck all the folds of material neatly into her belt so that it didn’t billow round her. She had her own thick black stockings and sturdy shoes and, once she’d pinned her Queen’s badge on her cap and given the huge dress another tug here and there, she felt ready for the day.
The bicycle was old, but the chain had been carefully oiled, the tyres were plump and sturdy and the basket on the front firmly fixed. Wheeling it out into the road, Julie took out her map, found the street where her first patient lived and set off, the warm navy cloak billowing behind her. It was good to be back doing what she loved best, and despite Eunice and Eileen, she had a feeling that life in Cliffehaven would suit her very well indeed.
Chapter Twelve
TWO FRAUGHT WEEKS had passed since Anne and her baby had been rushed to hospital, and March had begun with bright skies and brisk winds. Unfortunately, the sunny days and frosty, starlit nights had also brought enemy planes, and both Portsmouth and London had taken a hammering. There had been numerous air-raid warnings in Cliffehaven, and it had become almost commonplace to hear the roar of the RAF planes overhead as they continued to bombard Cologne, Hamburg and Berlin, and defend the English coastline.
Following Churchill’s impassioned speech to Roosevelt, ending ‘Give us the tools, and we will finish the job,’ the American president had finally had his Lend-Lease bill passed. Roosevelt’s speech the previous night had been a real tonic, not least for the local American servicemen, who were frustrated at not playing any part in the hostilities. With the bill passed, it was generally expected that America must surely now enter the war.