by Annie Groves
Billy glanced again at the pencil sketch Ron had drawn on the back of an envelope, giving directions to the hospital. Billy thought that it was a good job Ron wasn’t in the armed services making maps. He’d done his best but he’d misremembered the street names and Billy had gone round in a circle before he realised what had happened. Now he was concerned that visiting hours would be over. It also felt like rain in the air. He walked as quickly as he could, slinging his canvas grip over one shoulder.
He arrived with just twenty minutes to spare. It was a big hospital and Ron’s instructions about how to find the ward were about as accurate as his main map, but a helpful nurse pointed out where to go. Billy was by now completely convinced he was on a hiding to nothing, but at least he could see Alfie and report back to his family. He took a moment to take a breath and compose himself. If Alfie was as bad as Ron said, then he wouldn’t want to hear frustration and disappointment in his visitor’s voice.
As he pushed through the big double doors, he caught sight of the ward matron in her unmistakable uniform and went to let her know who he was.
‘A visitor for young Alfred?’ she said, her stern face breaking into a smile. ‘That will be very welcome, I’m sure. His days must pass very slowly at present. I shall take you across to him.’ Billy sensed dread spreading through him and recognised he hadn’t really considered what kind of condition Alfie would be in and how he would react. He was about to find out, and felt very underprepared. ‘Here you are. Alfred, you have a visitor, Mr … Reilly, was it?’
‘That’s r-right.’ Billy stuttered as the shock hit him. Alfie was almost totally bandaged, with just a small gap for the end of his nose and another for his mouth. ‘Er, Alfie, it’s me, Billy. Billy Reilly, what works with Ron down the docks.’ He cleared his throat as the matron walked purposefully off.
‘Billy? From down the pub?’ The words came out muffled, but otherwise it was recognisably Alfie’s voice.
Billy blushed with embarrassment. He really hadn’t thought this through. He and Alfie were barely more than acquaintances when all was said and done. The poor man must be wondering why a colleague of his little brother had bothered coming all the way to Portsmouth to visit someone he only met occasionally down the pub.
‘Yep, that’s it, Alfie.’ Billy’s mind was racing. ‘I had some ARP business down this way and Ron had said you were here, so he’s got me being his delivery boy. I got yer auntie’s cake in my bag.’
Alfie shifted a little. ‘Auntie Ida’s gingerbread? I’m very grateful to you, coming out of your way like that. It’s very popular round here, I can tell you. The lot Ron gave me went in no time at all. I’m bribing the nurses with it.’ The hole over his mouth changed shape a little and Billy realised he was smiling.
‘How you feeling, Alf?’ he asked, sinking cautiously onto the hard bedside chair. He was tired out from standing all the way and then the swift walk, but didn’t want Alfie to know that.
‘Not so bad,’ said Alfie staunchly. ‘Better than when Ron was here. I couldn’t hear him very well, did he tell you that? Now my hearing’s much improved. They haven’t let me take the bandages off my eyes yet, but I reckon I can see the light changing behind my eyelids and I couldn’t do that before either. My plan is to have the prettiest nurse standing in front of me when they do take off the bandage, so she’ll be the first thing I see. That’s why I need the extra gingerbread – to bribe the doctor to do it only when she’s on duty.’
Billy relaxed a little against the back of the chair. Alfie couldn’t be too bad if he was coming up with schemes like that. ‘Good plan,’ he said. ‘Shall I put it in your bedside cupboard? Then you’ll know it’s safe for when it’s needed.’
‘That would be best,’ agreed Alfie. ‘Be sure to get Ron to thank Auntie Ida for me. She’s always on to us to get ourselves proper girlfriends, so you can tell her I at least am working on it.’
Billy was impressed. ‘You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you?’
Alfie snorted. ‘I figured that I had better make the most of this. I could either lie here and give up, or use the time wisely. I’m not daft, now that I can hear again I know what they’ve been saying about me. Well, you can tell our Ron that I’m not about to snuff it, far from it. I’m not even taking as many painkillers as before. I said to them, I can’t think clearly on that stuff, so let’s be having less of it. I don’t need it. My burns are healing, I can sense it. I might not be taking up a career in film once I’m out of here, but I don’t intend to be some invalid wheeled around in a bath chair.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ said Billy sincerely, but his eyes had begun to search the rest of the ward as Alfie spoke. He counted the number of beds, as Ron had told him to. That must be the man he had seen, in the corner. The sheet was pulled over most of him, just one arm slightly raised by a complicated contraption, and there was no way Billy could see who it might be underneath.
Alfie shifted again. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Billy, and tell Ron and Ma not to either,’ he said firmly. ‘Now you don’t have to stay around here. I can imagine what it’s like, rows of us all laid up just like me. Not a pretty sight. It’s not that I don’t appreciate you coming, God knows I do, but you’ll be busy. ARP business was it, you said?’ If he didn’t believe the lame excuse, he had the good manners not to say so.
‘That’s right. It’s about protecting the docks,’ Billy improvised. ‘We know you been taking a bit of a pounding down here and want to know how you defended yourselves.’
‘Glad to hear it. It’s good to know that my little brother will be looked after. When the trouble really starts he’ll be right in the firing line, won’t he? Well, you both will.’ Alfie’s voice grew serious. ‘Brave men, you are. Sticking to your jobs even when you know the dangers.’
‘Nah, we’re just doing what we always do. You’re the brave one. Flying Spitfires and that.’ Billy was deeply moved and for a second he couldn’t speak.
‘Just doing what I was told,’ said Alfie. ‘Go on, you get back to your digs or whatever you’re doing. Wish me luck with the nurse.’
Billy recovered himself and laughed as he stood. ‘Hope the cake does the trick. See you down the Duke’s Arms soon, I hope.’
‘Bye, Billy. Mine’ll be a pint of bitter.’
‘I bet there’ll be a queue waiting to shout you one,’ Billy predicted, picking up his grip. ‘Bye, Alfie.’ He wondered when the brave young pilot would be well enough to return to the Duke’s Arms. Not too soon, by the looks of it. But then, given how determined he sounded, who could tell?
He stepped away from Alfie’s bed and then came to a standstill, wondering how to do what he had come for. Noticing him, the matron made her way across the ward. ‘Mr Reilly. Is there anything further we can help you with? You will be aware that visiting hours finish very shortly.’ She spoke in a friendly fashion but there was a firm warning in her voice.
Billy shuffled his feet. ‘Well … yes. You might think I’m crazy but …’
‘Out with it, young man,’ said the matron, clearly having no time to waste.
Billy looked at his hands and then dived straight in. ‘That man in the corner. He seems familiar somehow. Do you know who he is?’
The matron eyed him keenly. ‘No. I’m afraid we have no idea. We have to keep him heavily sedated as he’s had a very bad head injury and he doesn’t talk. He has no papers, he came here with nothing, not even his uniform. I believe he was wrapped in a blanket. Why, do you think he is familiar?’
‘Ron – Alfie’s brother – thought so. We’ve got a mate who was killed, or that’s what we were told. But they never found his body. Dunkirk, it was. So there’s an outside chance it could be him.’ Billy gulped. It sounded so far-fetched.
The matron looked doubtful but did not dismiss him out of hand. ‘The timing would fit. But we had so many young men back from Dunkirk. It is very unlikely; surely you must see that?’
Billy nodded. That was understating the ma
tter. Yet he’d come this far. ‘Could I just go a little closer?’ he asked. ‘Then I could tell, I’m sure I could.’
The matron weighed up her options while glancing at the fob watch attached to her neat uniform. ‘Very well. It is my duty to caution you against false hope, however. You do realise the odds are stacked against you.’
Billy could tell his face was going crimson. ‘I know. But I can’t go home without checking. His family … his fiancée … they don’t know I’m here, but it would mean everything to them.’
‘I cannot deny it would be of the greatest help if he were to be identified,’ the matron admitted. ‘Now you are not to disturb him. We cannot tell how much he is taking in of his surroundings, or which of his senses are damaged. If you stand on the far side of the bed I will move the sheet.’
Billy, by now almost sick with anxiety, moved to where she had indicated, so that he would be able to see the uninjured side of the man’s head.
The matron stepped forward and gently, slowly, lifted back the sheet. It seemed to take forever.
Billy gasped. His hand flew to his mouth. ‘Oh my God.’ He almost stumbled as he took a stride forward. ‘My God. I don’t believe it. It can’t be.’ He turned to the matron, who was wary now, signalling to him to keep the noise down. ‘It’s him, Nurse. It’s really him. It’s Harry. Oh my God. Harry’s alive. After all this time, Harry’s alive.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kathleen hadn’t expected Billy to come rushing round immediately, but when Stan told her he wasn’t on duty that evening, she had at first assumed he would turn up at some point, even if only briefly. It wasn’t as if it was an emergency; she just wanted his steady reassurance.
The evening crept on and the light began to fade as she sat at her table, attempting to concentrate on darning the rabbit socks. Soon she would have to put up the blackout blind and try to finish the task by candlelight or the gas lamp, which hissed and gave everything a greenish tinge. Brian had fallen asleep in his cot without a fuss, his hair flopping over his soft cheek, his hand outside the blanket grasping his teddy. He was a picture of contentment.
With doubts now threatening her earlier confidence that all would be well, Kathleen caught her breath and prayed that he would continue to be so placid and cheerful. He was making a snuffling sound, deep in his dreams. His hand loosened its grip on the teddy, which rolled back towards the pillow. Kathleen knew that she should count her blessings.
Yet those doubts would not disperse. What if Billy was out somewhere with the tall dark nurse? Mattie had mentioned that her name was Belinda. Kathleen had absolutely no cause to believe he was, and knew that there were a hundred reasons why he might be unable to come round. His mother might need him. He might not have picked up the message. Something could have happened at work. He might, and her heart turned over, have had an accident. What if he was lying hurt somewhere? She couldn’t bear it.
But would that be worse than him going out somewhere with Belinda? They could be at the cinema, sitting as close if not closer than she and Billy had done at the Tommy Trinder film. She bit her lip. This was a stupid train of thought. She had to stop it. How could she be so cruel as to think it would be preferable for him to have had an accident rather than see the tall nurse?
If that was his choice, then somehow she would have to bear it. There was no point in being jealous. She had had her chance and had blown it. He deserved somebody special and could easily have grown tired of waiting for her. If that was the case she would have to cope. She had no idea how she would go about doing so, but she might simply have to. Billy didn’t belong to her. She had no claim over him. She would have to find the courage to accept it.
Billy could scarcely contain himself, he was so agitated. He hopped from foot to foot, his nervousness causing other people to look at him askance. He was in Portsmouth station, waiting to see if there would be a train back to London that night. He hadn’t wanted to go to Ron’s friend’s digs after the hospital visit. He was too wound up and knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He had to get back as soon as possible to tell everyone in person. He had debated phoning with the unbelievable news, but had decided against it. The Banhams didn’t have a telephone in their house; he’d have had to call the ARP post, which might mean that a vital message got delayed. He could have tried to ring Edith at the nurses’ home but, again, that phone was only meant to be for important messages, and he knew how strict the senior nurses there could be.
Besides, he had a feeling that everyone would say he was making it up. It really was almost beyond credibility. He’d spent some time in the matron’s office, giving her all the details: Harry’s full name, date of birth, home address, names of parents. He’d struggled to recall who he was serving with but remembered the name of the superior officer who had recruited him, a former champion boxer himself. When he had exhausted his store of information, the matron had let him go. She had asked if he had somewhere to stay as it was getting late, and Billy hadn’t lied when he assured her he had. He just had no intention of going there.
Rumour had it that there would be a train leaving around midnight or after, and so he’d hung on in the railway station, hopeful of cramming on it with all the other men in various uniforms who were milling around waiting as well. Some looked dog-tired, some were injured, others sat patiently on the platforms playing cards or chatting. Billy was too anxious to get home to talk to anyone. He fought against the frustration that was building inside him. He had to get back, he absolutely had to. This news was too great to keep to himself, but there was nobody here he could share it with.
Eventually there was a flutter of activity on one of the platforms and a train came in, a mixture of battered passenger coaches and open freight ones. There was a scramble as the word went around that this would be the only way back to London until services resumed in the morning, if the lines hadn’t been bombed by then. Billy launched himself into the crowds of passengers trying to find a spot. He managed to get on, keeping tight hold of his old grip, but there were no seats to be had. He was left with no choice except to stand in the corridor, but he didn’t mind. It was better than freezing in a freight truck. He slipped his hand into his inside pocket and withdrew the last ham sandwich that the stranger on the down train had given him, which foresight had warned him to put away just in case. As he took the first bite, the train set off.
It was after dawn by the time the train limped into Waterloo station. All around him passengers were slumped, trying to catch what rest they could in their uncomfortable and cramped positions. Billy shook himself awake, having managed to doze off where he stood for an uneasy few hours. He glanced at his watch and assessed how many people there were on this train, and how many other unscheduled trains were standing at the many platforms disgorging sleepy and rumpled passengers. He reached for his grip, placed firmly between his feet so there was no chance of losing it. He might as well walk. He could be at Jeeves Street in about an hour and would catch all of them having breakfast.
As he strode along, his intermittent night’s sleep a thing of the past, he tried to plan how he would break the news. But his mind failed him. It was too much to contemplate, and for a moment he wondered if it had been a figment of his imagination, a strange dream born of the overlong journey. Then he would remember the sight of his friend’s face, terribly injured on one side but without a doubt that of Harry Banham.
His body began to flag as he reached Dalston, but his brain was whirring, excited at the good news he was about to bring to the family who had already lived through so many terrible events. Finally he came to the front door. He could hear voices inside – Mattie calling to Gillian to stop doing something, Stan wading in with advice. Billy took a deep breath and knocked.
Alice arrived back at the nurses’ home early after her morning rounds were finished. She didn’t want to be overly optimistic but Dennis, the boy with the tubercular hip, seemed at last able to put a little weight on it. His spirits had picked up tremendously
as a result. All the nurses who had worked with him admired his refusal to be downhearted, but now he was able to see genuine reasons for hope. She stowed her bike in the rack and went inside through the back door, wondering if she would have time to read the letter she had picked up that morning. Everyone else was still out and about and their meal would not be ready for some time yet. She recognised Dermot’s handwriting and wondered what was happening in his hospital near Southampton.
Winston Churchill had made a stirring address on the wireless, telling the nation that ‘never was so much owed by so many to so few’, as the brave airmen fought their ongoing battle along the Channel and south coast and, more and more, over the airfields close to London. Dermot must be right underneath the action. While you could hear the guns and see distant planes over the East End, she knew it would be far worse where he was. For a fleeting moment she wondered what Mark was doing and if he was safe, then she dismissed the thought of him.
As she came up the back stairs to the main entrance hall, there was the sound of urgent knocking on the front door. Gwen beat her to it, appearing swiftly from the district room and opening the imposing door.
Billy stood outside. ‘Is Edith here?’ he said at once, all polite manners forgotten.
Gwen drew herself up to her full height and froze him with a glare. ‘Is this a medical enquiry or is it of a personal nature?’ she demanded. ‘We simply cannot entertain young men coming here to importune our nurses. If you require a nurse, then one will be sent according to our procedure and you may not request a specific one … oh, good day to you, Mr Banham.’
The tall figure of Stan Banham came into view and Gwen immediately softened. She very much approved of him and his calm way of working and representing the ARP. ‘What can we do to help?’
Stan ascended the steps so that he was on a level with the hall. ‘Hello,’ he said swiftly, catching sight of Alice. ‘Excuse me, but Alice, is Edie here? We have something to tell her that can’t wait.’