by Annie Groves
The nurse who had led Ronald in came past Alfie’s bed and caught the direction of his gaze. ‘So sad,’ she breathed. ‘That poor soul doesn’t even know who he is. He came here with no papers or anything and he doesn’t really speak. We only know he’s British because he sometimes shouts out in the night. Terrible damage to his arm and face there. He’s taken a head injury and he’s hurt all down that side. Ah well, he’s slowly on the mend.’ She raised her voice a little. ‘As is your brother. Feeling a little better, aren’t you, Alfie?’
‘Better and better every day, Nurse,’ Alfie managed to say. She walked away to the other end of the ward, her heels tapping lightly on the linoleum floor. ‘Is she one of the pretty ones?’ he asked after the footsteps had faded.
Ronald nodded and then realised Alfie couldn’t see him doing so. ‘She is,’ he said honestly. ‘Too good for the likes of us, Alf. A bit like that Vivien Leigh.’
‘Classy, then.’ Alfie started to laugh but it made him cough.
‘God, Alf, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to set you off.’ Ronald was mortified.
‘No, no, done me good, this has.’ Alfie paused again. ‘I’m a bit tired now, Ron, but will you come again tomorrow? Did you get a spot of leave?’
‘Yes, I’ll be here tomorrow,’ Ronald said, though for two pins he would never have set foot inside the ward again. However, he had to do it – Alfie had asked. If Alfie could endure fighting in a Spitfire, being shot at, crashing and winding up in here, unable to move or see, then it was the least he could do to visit and seem cheerful. ‘I’ll be off now, then.’
‘Bye, Ron.’ Alfie’s voice was fading.
Ron all but staggered towards the door, but the nurse who resembled Vivien Leigh saw him and came over. She drew him into the corridor.
‘Look, I realise it looks bad and it’s a bit of a shock, but he’s doing really well,’ she told him.
Ronald stared at his feet. ‘God, is it that obvious?’
‘You went white as a sheet,’ she said crisply, ‘but then many of the relatives do. I can assure you I’ve been caring for your brother every day since he arrived and there has been marked improvement, and every reason to hope he will continue to recover. We just have to give his body time to heal. You see all those bandages and you imagine the worst, but they’re there to protect his open wounds from infection. He won’t be covered in them for life, you know.’
‘Oh.’ Ronald was embarrassed that she had read his mind so accurately. ‘But what about his eyes, nurse? Will he be able to see?’
The nurse faced him squarely and he met her gaze. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m not the one to be able to tell you. If you’re here for visiting hours in the morning, you may be able to speak to the doctor. He can give you a better idea.’
Ron swallowed hard. ‘Right you are then. I’ll do that.’ He turned to go. ‘Thank you, Nurse.’
She nodded. ‘It’s nothing.’
Now Ronald dragged himself along the terraced street, counting the houses and wondering if he would recognise the place where he was staying. A friend of a friend who’d once worked at Limehouse Docks and now was at Portsmouth had agreed to put him up, and so Ronald had left his bags there. At least he wouldn’t have to pay for lodging. He could stop here a couple of nights if it would do Alfie good to see him every day, but his stomach heaved at the thought of the smells, sounds and sights of the ward. His admiration for Edith and the other Victory Walk nurses grew with every step he took. Up until now, he’d gone along with the generally held view where he worked, that women were the weaker sex and it was men’s duty to protect them. He now realised you needed nerves of steel and a stronger stomach than he himself had to deal with the everyday realities of life on the wards. Those nurses were tougher than they looked.
‘Won’t you need the room back when Joe gets home?’ Kathleen asked Flo, anxiety pulsing through every nerve. She really didn’t want to return to Jeeves Place yet. The threat from the woman who claimed she was as good as Ray’s wife hung over her. Sometimes she would be helping around the house and would forget, and then it would hit her twice as hard as the memory came back.
Flo put her hands on her hips. ‘Now you listen to me, Kathleen Berry. You and young Brian are welcome here for as long as you want to stay. Haven’t you been like my own daughter these past few weeks, doing all the chores that Mattie’s too far gone to manage? I won’t hear of such a thing. Joe can have the front-room settee. I dare say that will be like luxury compared to where he’s been lately. I will not have you going back to your house on your own when you don’t feel safe. So there’s an end of it.’
Kathleen swallowed hard with relief, even as she moved to stack the clean plates ready to carry over to the dresser in Flo’s generously sized kitchen. ‘All right. If you’re sure.’
Flo gave a mock-exasperated smile. ‘And why wouldn’t I be sure? Enough of such talk. Pass me those plates and then you can sort out the cutlery.’
Kathleen did as she was asked, wiping the slightly mismatched knives and forks before lining them up in their drawer. Everything in Flo’s kitchen had its place, the result of her bringing up three children and a grandchild there, not to mention catering for their various friends who were never turned away. She felt she could breathe easy again. While she hadn’t really thought Stan and Flo would throw her out, she had feared they might resent her taking up the room now Joe was due home in just over a week.
Gillian raced into the room from the yard, followed by Mattie huffing and puffing. ‘I tell you what, I can’t wait for this baby to arrive,’ she said. ‘I know Edie said I should take it easy but I hate doing nothing.’
‘Will you listen to yourself,’ her mother admonished her. ‘Plenty of people would love to have nothing to do.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Mattie pointed out waspishly. ‘No, Gillian, put that down. See, Granny will sort you out. Thank you. No, you’d hate being told to lie around and not lift a finger. It’s downright tedious, that’s what.’
Kathleen laughed. ‘Make the most of it. You’ll be busy soon enough. Once the baby gets here, you won’t know which way to turn, what with Gillian able to walk around and reach everything.’
Mattie subsided onto the sofa. ‘Have you heard from Billy?’
Kathleen’s face clouded over. ‘Not yet. I don’t know what to make of it.’ In fact she was longing to see him, just for the comfort of knowing he was there, but she knew she’d been distant with him and couldn’t blame him from staying away.
Flo caught her expression. ‘He’ll be doing his best to find out what’s going on,’ she assured her guest. ‘He probably doesn’t want to come round until he knows something definite. He’ll be pulling strings behind the scenes, just you wait and see. Why don’t you do something to take your mind off it a bit? I saw some patterns in my Woman & Home the other day for little siren suits. You could make Brian one of those, and I have some big buttons that would be just right. Wouldn’t that be lovely for him? I’m not saying those Jerries will manage to invade or nothing, and Stan says the RAF are doing a sterling job, but it could keep the boy warm in the winter anyway. How about that?’
Kathleen sighed. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ Yet her heart sank at the idea that Billy might be interested in somebody else, and that it was her fault for failing to encourage him at the right moment. Maybe he was spending his free evenings with this other woman rather than helping to find out who Elsie Keegan really was. The thought sickened her – because in that case she would have nobody to blame but herself.
Ron’s kind host assured him his wife would cook him a good breakfast before setting off the next morning, but Ron couldn’t face the thought of food, let alone anything fried. He nibbled on a piece of toast to show willing but that was his limit. He slung his bag on his back, knowing he should return directly to the station after the morning’s visiting hours were over. He was actually looking forward to being back at work. It would be a doddle compared to this.
&
nbsp; As he approached the hospital his stomach was churning, but he knew it meant a lot to Alfie to have his brother there beside him. He knew where to go now, and threaded his way along the corridors, which smelled strongly of disinfectant, making his nose itch. For a moment he was irritated, but then he reminded himself how unimportant that was when set alongside what the patients here were enduring. Shoving his hanky back in his pocket, he opened the big double doors to Alfie’s ward.
There was the pretty nurse on the other side of the room, who recognised him and smiled. He thought he detected an expression of approval. Had she really thought he had been so distressed at the sight of his wounded brother that he would not return? Ron straightened his shoulders. He might not like it but he would never let Alfie down.
‘Morning, Alf,’ he forced himself to say, just as if he was joining him for breakfast.
Alfie stirred. ‘Ron, is that you? When I woke up this morning I thought I’d dreamt it, that you’d come all the way down here to see me. And now you’re back. Sucker for punishment, you are.’
‘Course I came back. Ma and Auntie Ida would have my guts for garters otherwise.’ Ron settled himself on the uncomfortable chair.
‘Thank them for their parcel. One of the nurses gave me some of Auntie Ida’s gingerbread last night. Lovely, it was. Do you want some?’
Ron was briefly tempted, as their aunt was known for her baking skills and nowadays found it hard to get the ingredients. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d made gingerbread. But he couldn’t deprive his brother of the treat. ‘No, you save it for yourself. Or share it with the nurses,’ he suggested.
‘I might an’ all. Doesn’t hurt to be friendly to them.’ Alfie sounded more like his old self, and was catching everything Ron said. Perhaps he really was on the mend.
‘Has the doctor done his rounds this morning?’ Ron asked casually.
Alfie’s body might be a wreck, but his mind was still sharp. ‘Checking up on me, are you?’ he replied at once. ‘Want to know what he really thinks my chances are?’
Ron thought about denying it and then realised that would just be to insult his brother.
‘Well, yes.’
Alfie shifted a little in his bed. ‘Don’t blame you. I’d do the same. You’re in luck, he hasn’t been yet. Dry old stick, he is, but seems to know what he’s doing.’
Ron noted how Alfie was able to speak for longer this morning without running out of breath, but he didn’t know if he was always better at this time of day. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. He cast his eyes around the ward and noted the empty bed where the young man who had gasped for breath had been. His heart went out to the poor soul and his family, but he didn’t want to mention it to Alfie.
‘Tell me more about what’s been happening back home,’ Alfie said. ‘I think about you all, wondering how you’re getting by.’
Ron recounted more everyday stories about life in the East End, trying to play down the ever-present fear of invasion and increasing restrictions of rationing. Instead he told his brother which children had been evacuated, which ones had come back, who’d been in trouble with the ARP, how their neighbours had finally finished their Anderson shelter. ‘Done it up like a palace, they have,’ he said. ‘I told them, there’s no point in doing that, you don’t want to be spending more time in there than you have to. But they insisted. Said they didn’t see why they should be uncomfortable just because Jerry decided to turf them out of bed. She’s gone and put up curtains, made matching cushions, the lot.’
‘You can’t teach common sense,’ Alfie observed.
Ron nodded and then turned round at the sound of a discreet cough. A man well into his sixties stood there, with hair almost as white as his coat. ‘Good morning,’ he said in an accent that bore traces of Scottish. ‘Nurse tells me you are my patient’s brother. If you would be good enough to step aside so that I can see how he is this morning, I’ll be happy to spare you a few moments afterwards.’
Ron did as he was asked, moving away to give Alfie some privacy as the doctor assessed him. He gazed at the man with the missing leg, then looked away as he didn’t want to be caught staring. Instead he turned to the man in the corner, who wouldn’t be likely to realise if he was being stared at or not. Ron thought what a shame it was that he was so marked along his face. He must have been handsome before his injuries. Well, Laurence had been handsome too – and it hadn’t helped him.
The doctor gave another of his discreet coughs and tipped his head towards the double doors. Ron acknowledged him and retook his seat beside Alfie’s bed. ‘I’d better be making a move,’ he said. ‘I’ll try to come again now I know how to get here. You take care of yourself. Don’t go chasing the nurses or anything like that.’
Alfie gave a short laugh. ‘We’ll have to see. If I keep on getting better it might be good exercise. Thanks for coming, Ron, but don’t worry, don’t go missing work to visit. I know it’s a fair old hike to get here. You look after yourself as well, and look after Ma and Auntie Ida. Your job is protected still, isn’t it? They can’t make you join up? Well, don’t go doing anything daft like enlisting. One of us has to make sure Ma is all right.’
Ron cleared his throat. It had crossed his mind, of course it had. Yet he knew that it was vital to keep the docks working and, although he tried not to think about it, that he might be in almost as much danger there as in the armed forces if the threatened invasion or bombing campaign took place. ‘I’ll look after them, don’t you fret,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘You just concentrate on getting better. I’ll come back if I can. If not I’ll write. You can get that pretty nurse to read my letters.’
He got up. ‘Bye, Alfie.’ He did not look back at his brother as he walked away, afraid his eyes would mist up. He dreaded what the doctor might have to say.
The older man was waiting for him on the other side of the double doors. ‘You’ll not mind if we walk back to my office while we speak? It’s a busy day, like every day.’ He set off at surprising speed and Ron had to hurry to keep up. ‘Well, I’ll not keep you in suspense. I’ll not deny that your brother has been very, very sick, and we were concerned that we would lose him when he first arrived. Now, though, I’m pleased to say he’s making an excellent recovery. He’s young, he’s fit – this stands him in good stead. With the careful nursing that we can provide, I am confident he will pull through.’
Ron let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. ‘And his sight, Doctor? What about that?’
The doctor pursed his lips. ‘It is too soon to say. We won’t even risk removing the bandage for a wee while yet. But I have high hopes he will have some sight, even if not full twenty-twenty vision. Look how well his hearing is recovering – you might well have noticed that yourself, even over the course of two days. So try to hang on to that.’
Ron gulped. ‘But he’s a pilot … if he can’t see properly …’
The doctor grew solemn. ‘Let’s not race to any conclusions yet. He may well have to face the future without flying any more planes. We’ll tackle that problem if it arises. Meanwhile, chin up. He’s doing far better than we ever could have expected. You may tell that to your mother.’ His eyes crinkled in good humour. ‘Now I must be about my business. Goodbye.’
Ron could only try to smile back. ‘Goodbye. And thank you, Doctor.’ He watched as the man strode away down the corridor with an energy that belied his years. Alfie was in good hands – and the rest was in the lap of the gods.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Billy had tried his best to find out more about the blonde woman who’d turned Kathleen’s life upside down but had got nowhere. He’d asked around on the quiet at work to see if anyone knew if Bertie had a new girlfriend, or if he’d been seen with a woman they didn’t recognise, but to no avail. The general consensus was that Bertie had it too cushy living with his mother – who spoilt him rotten – to court any girl, and any sensible woman would run at full speed in the opposit
e direction rather than have Pearl as a mother-in-law. Billy wholeheartedly agreed but it didn’t help his cause.
He owed it to Kathleen to tell her what he had seen, which at least should help to put her mind at rest. If the baby had been a little replica of Ray, it would have been a different matter but, as things stood, he was more and more certain the woman had been trying it on. He had to let her know.
He got the bus from work up to Dalston and passed the spot where Belinda had chained up her bike on the evening of the acid accident. That felt like ages ago. He’d scarcely thought of her since he’d learnt of Elsie’s arrival on the scene. He almost laughed to himself that he had even entertained the idea that he might ask her out. There was only one woman who was important to him in that way.
Billy got off the crowded bus on the main road, turning left into Jeeves Street. He still half-expected to see Harry coming out of the front door, strolling down the pavement as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Billy had been walking down this street since his schooldays, coming round to call for his friends. Now here he was still in his dusty docker’s work clothes, carrying his ARP uniform in a bag under his arm so that he could get changed for his shift without going home first. Those carefree years were a long time ago.
He knocked on the door and it was Kathleen who answered. His heart sped up at the sight of her as it always did. Yet he hesitated, not knowing if she would be welcoming or if that new distance between them would still be there.
For a moment she paused, and then the old familiar smile was back. ‘Billy. Come in,’ she said, and he followed her into the kitchen with its delicious smell of something cooking for the evening meal.
‘Sit down. I’ll make you some tea,’ she offered, clearing away her sewing from the armchair. Brian’s little siren suit was beginning to take shape, in bright emerald green with big buttons down the front. ‘Have you come to see Stan? He’s not back yet.’