by Annie Groves
‘Why don’t you offer me a cup of tea, Kath? Or something stronger?’
Once she would have dropped everything to do his bidding but now she hesitated, numb with shock. ‘What are you doing here, Ray? Why are you here at all?’
He folded his arms and scoffed. ‘Oh that’s charming, that is. Not a word of welcome for your old man. All these months and that’s what I get.’
Kathleen slowly shook her head. ‘You’re dead, Ray. I saw it in black and white.’
He laughed again, louder this time. ‘That’s what you were all meant to think. Why would I want to hang about when everyone was trying to kill me? You can’t imagine what it was like, men getting shot all around, kids dying like flies. I wasn’t sticking around for it to be me next. It was easy enough to disappear in all the confusion, and then of course they thought I was dead.’
Kathleen thought of Billy’s bravery, heading over to Dunkirk when he had hardly ever been on a boat before, sailing right into the centre of hell to rescue the survivors. What a contrast to this coward who stood before her, mocking the sacrifice of so many. Her pulse beat hard with disbelief as she tried to absorb the sight of the man whose good looks used to make her knees melt. How could she have been so blind to what he really was?
‘So what did you do?’ she asked, playing for time. She had to work out a way of getting him out of the flat. Her eyes flew to Brian but the toddler was still absorbed in his game. She prayed he would stay that way; that he wouldn’t demand attention and set his father off into the all too familiar rage. Something she had believed she would never have to endure again.
‘Oh, I swapped my merchant-navy gear for some civilian’s clothes; he was dead and wasn’t going to miss them,’ Ray said easily. ‘One of those little boats was happy to take me back, didn’t ask no questions. Then I got a lift and ended up back in Liverpool. Elsie took me in. I believe you’ve met.’ His face darkened.
‘Not for long.’ Kathleen had no wish to talk about that woman.
Ray settled back to lean against the wall opposite her. ‘She had her uses, I must say. She was ever so obliging at first. Knew how to keep her man happy.’ He sighed. ‘It all changed when I brought her down here, I don’t mind telling you now. Got a bit above herself, she did. I had to teach her a lesson or two. I’m sure you remember what that was like.’
Kathleen forced her face to remain neutral, although she remembered all too painfully.
‘She didn’t do a great job persuading you to cough up half the pension, did she? I told her she was wasting her time. Still, it was worth a go.’ He rubbed the knuckles of one hand with the other, and Kathleen felt the blood pounding in her ears.
‘Anyway, she was soon up to her old tricks so I kicked her out. Told her to take that snivelling kid with her. He ain’t none of mine, despite what she’d like me to believe. Led me a right song and dance about that.’
Kathleen felt a surge of relief. Brian didn’t have a little bastard brother somewhere out there; it had all been a tissue of lies and Billy had been right.
‘I’ll get to the point, Kath.’ Ray looked directly at her. ‘We could do a bit of mutual business, you and me. You see, that little place I had with her got bombed. Nothing left of it but a shell, and I can’t live in that.’
Kathleen recalled Billy saying something about Elsie coming out of a shop in Poplar. Perhaps they had lived near it. Poplar had suffered badly in the raids of the last week.
‘So I thought I’d come back and live here.’
‘Here?’ The word burst from her before she could stop it.
‘Yes, here. With my very own wife and child. I been back a couple of times to check you was still at the same address, and I have to say you been very careless. That spare key to the back door is where you always left it, tucked under the pot by the drainpipe. Anyone could get in.’ Ray had made no effort to look around for Brian. He obviously still didn’t care one iota about the boy. ‘See, Kath, it makes sense. You got my pension. You can afford to keep me. You can’t report me for going AWOL because, if you do, you lose the money. But if you fail to report me you’re committing an offence. You got no choice. I’ll see to it that someone shops you if you even try. Neat, ain’t it? Your own beloved husband back from the dead after all this time. Now we can play happy families all over again.’ He leered in the gathering gloom.
Kathleen gasped. He was crazy. Even if she wanted him to, he couldn’t stay here for long. Everyone knew everyone else’s business in Jeeves Place. It would be madness. They’d be discovered, he would be under arrest and she would be prosecuted for aiding and abetting. What a nightmare. She cursed herself for not checking on that key.
There was a bit of her that automatically wanted to agree, just as she had always done for years. It was so much easier. Crossing Ray never worked; he would be free with his fists and twist whatever she’d say, mocking her, belittling her. For a moment she could imagine how it would be: her doing everything he asked; cooking, cleaning, suffering his pawing hands, putting up with whatever he wanted. Him spending all the money on drink, her being hungry all the time.
Things were different now. She had Brian to protect. She would not allow this lying excuse for a man to hurt her boy, or to ruin her life all over again. Her hands were shaking in fear but also in rage. ‘No,’ she said.
Ray looked at her in surprised amusement. ‘No? What do you mean, no?’
She met his gaze and held it. ‘No, Ray. You can’t just turn up here after all those months and expect to be welcomed with open arms. Not after you been off with your fancy woman.’
Ray’s face burst into a smile. ‘Ah, you’re jealous. I might have known it. Still holding a candle for me, are you? Course you are. Let me tell you, she was only ever a bit of fun on the side. Not like you. You’re my wife, Kath.’ He stood away from the wall.
‘No, Ray. Don’t come any closer.’
He frowned in incomprehension. ‘You don’t mean that, Kath.’
Kathleen pushed herself up to her full height. ‘I do, Ray. Don’t you try and lay your hands on me. You stay back, now.’
Ray’s eyes flashed at the challenge. ‘That’s not like you, Kath. I don’t believe you.’ He took a step closer.
‘Get out, Ray!’ She raised her voice a little, desperate not to scare Brian, but refusing to give in.
He advanced still further. ‘Get out? Why should I? It’s my house as much as yours. More, as I’m the man. I’m not getting out. Are you going to make me?’ He smiled at the ridiculous idea.
Suddenly fury flooded through her. Without thinking what she was doing, Kathleen reached behind in one swift movement and picked up the heavy pan she’d had ready to brown her meat in. In one smooth swipe she aimed it at her husband and connected with the side of his head.
He cried out in agony but the look on his face was more one of disbelief: that his obedient wife should suddenly turn against him.
‘Get out,’ she repeated, realising he was on the back foot now. She made to swing the pan again and he retreated to the door, flinging it open.
‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ he threatened. ‘You remember what I said. You don’t have a leg to stand on, not if you want to keep getting the money.’ Then he turned and was gone.
Kathleen sank down at her small wooden table, clutching the sides of it. Brian, sensing that she was upset, came over and hugged her around her knees and she bent to pick him up and set him on her lap. She was still trembling from shock, fear and overwhelming anger.
If it weren’t for the pan on the floor she would not have believed what just happened. It was so far beyond credibility. She had thought she was safe from Ray, from his violence and selfishness, and did not want to recognise that he was all too real. She had loved him once, but his behaviour during their marriage had killed off any affection, leaving only terror and then intense dislike. She had borne the burden of guilt all summer, ashamed that his death had brought her such relief. She sniffed. She had been wasting
her time. She had thought she was a widow, but had felt too weighed down to take advantage of her new freedom. Now it seemed as if she was back in the old prison, being shackled to someone she no longer loved, but hated from the depths of her being.
She stroked her son’s hair, so silky and smooth. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to keep you safe,’ she murmured, loathing that Ray still had the power to shake her to her core. Now the shock was wearing off she knew she had to face the dilemma that he had described so brutally. If she reported him to the authorities, she would lose his pension. If she didn’t, she was conniving in his deception. Neither route offered her any comfort. She was certain only that she would not take him back to live under the same roof. The very thought made her feel sick.
Kathleen gritted her teeth and realised she had to ask for help. She could not think this through on her own, she was too agitated. The Banhams had enough on their plate, what with the new baby and the news about Harry. A sob caught in her throat as she pictured how thrilled they had all been at his return from the dead. Everyone had been delighted. It was the complete opposite of learning about Ray. How thrilled Peggy would have been if it had been Pete – but he had been killed, without a shadow of a doubt, in the waters off Dunkirk. It was sod’s law that Ray had survived, intact, when those other good men would have deserved it so much more.
As ever, she would have to speak to Billy. He knew Ray as well as anyone. How she longed for him to make this problem go away, but for the life of her she couldn’t see how. Perhaps it was a good thing after all that she hadn’t responded to that look in his eyes; if she had given in to that powerful temptation she would have committed adultery, albeit unwittingly. What a mess. Perhaps he should get on with his life and forget her completely, now that he’d met Belinda … and yet, from the way he had gazed at her that first night of the blitz, she knew what he still felt for her. It had not gone away. But now she could do nothing about it, in all conscience. It was too late.
The clock showed it was six o’clock. Wearily she lifted Brian back onto the worn rug. ‘Time to make your tea,’ she said, retrieving the heavy pot and wiping it clean. If she hurried there would still be time to make their stew before the raids began after dark. Then they would wait for the call of the siren before struggling over to the church basement. Yet if there was a raid, that meant Billy would be out on duty. She would intercept him somehow and arrange to see him to share her bad news. She absolutely had to tell him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Alice had wondered if she would one day be called out to this particular household. Ever since Pauline had mentioned that her gran had leg ulcers, she suspected that time was growing closer. Now the message had come through and Alice happened to be the nurse with space on her morning round. She steeled herself. Her previous encounters with the elderly woman had not gone well.
At least the house was not far from the nurses’ home. However, even on this narrow street of rundown two-up, two-downs, the place stood out in its dire state. Alice wondered if any of it was due to the air raids, which were happening virtually every evening now. Many of the roads around Dalston had suffered direct hits, and gaps were appearing along many of the terraces. Other houses showed signs of bomb damage – broken windows, missing roof tiles. Still, as she drew closer, she decided this place was suffering from years of neglect, with its peeling paintwork, rotten woodwork and sagging roof.
Alice sighed. She was bone tired, as the raids cut into their sleep. She didn’t want to risk leaving the home’s refuge room to go up to her own cosy bed until the all clear sounded, but she found it hard to sleep on the floor, or in a chair, with so many others packed into the same space. Some of them found it easier than others. Edith could drop off with no problem, claiming the crowded conditions reminded her of when she was younger, and didn’t mind at all. Mary had an eye mask to shut out any light and was determined that nothing would get in the way of her beauty sleep. Alice admired her single-minded resolution, but it didn’t work for her.
Nevertheless, she had to do her best for this difficult old woman. Blinking quickly to try to wake up a little more, she knocked on the door. Flakes of faded green paint fell off.
‘It’s open,’ came a shout from inside.
Alice pushed the door, which led directly into a small room. It was no bigger than the main room of Kathleen’s small flat, but it was completely different in every other way. The filthy net curtain blocked out much of the light. There was an unpleasant smell, a combination of damp, stale food and unwashed human bodies. Everything was covered in a layer of dust, the fire had not been swept, dirty dishes were piled on the wonky table and used cups littered the floor. It took Alice a few moments to make out the old woman, who was sitting in a chair in the far corner, near the uncarpeted stairs.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ were her first words of welcome.
‘Hello,’ said Alice, as brightly as she could. ‘Yes, we’ve met before. I know Pauline from St Benedict’s school. Her favourite teacher is a friend of mine.’
The woman snorted. ‘You can save your breath if you’ve come to try to get her evacuated. She ain’t leaving and that’s that. I ain’t having her go off to total strangers. She’s stopping here with me.’
Alice set down her bag. ‘No, I haven’t come about that. I’m here to check on your legs. Pauline said you’d had trouble with your ulcers and now Dr Patcham has decided we’re to come regularly to make sure they’re properly cleaned and dressed, so they’ll heal faster.’ She couldn’t imagine how anything could be clean in this place. No wonder the ulcers were failing to improve.
‘Is that a fact?’ the woman said grimly. ‘Suppose you’d better have a look, then. Hope you got a strong stomach, they fair turn mine.’ She shifted her weight in the chair and stuck her legs out straight in front of her so that they were nearly in the ash-filled hearth.
Alice cast around and noticed a small footstool. ‘Is it all right if I move this across, and then you can rest each leg on this while I take a closer look?’
‘Suit yerself.’ The patient clearly wasn’t going to make it easy. Alice wondered if it was because the woman already distrusted her, or if she was like this with everybody. She pulled the stool across, setting down all the unwashed clothes that had been piled on it, and then drew up her bag.
‘Do you have a waste bin in here?’
‘Are you bleedin joking? Where would I put it? We chuck most things straight out in the back yard.’
‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to do that with used dressings,’ Alice said firmly. ‘You have young children around – we can’t have them picking them up.’
The woman snorted again. ‘What, Hitler’s blowing half our houses to smithereens and you’re worried about a few old bandages? I should have thought you had more important things to worry about. Don’t you get in a flap and blame me for not having a la-di-da bin.’
Alice counted to ten. ‘I’ll remove them and then dispose of them safely, then. We’ve got to try to maintain standards of hygiene, raids or no raids.’
The woman looked at her as if she was mad, but made no further comment as Alice swiftly removed the old dressings and got her first look at the ulcerated legs. Now she could see why the old lady was bad-tempered. They were among the worst ulcers she had encountered, and despite her strong stomach she came close to backing away.
‘Bet you never seen anything like these,’ the woman cackled.
Alice took a swift breath through her mouth and controlled her voice carefully. ‘They aren’t very nice to look at, are they? They must be causing you great discomfort.’
‘Hurt like hell, they do,’ the woman confirmed.
‘Well, let’s get them cleaned up.’ Alice got to work, gently swabbing the affected parts of the leg, cleaning and then disinfecting them before rebandaging the limb. ‘Right, now the next one.’
The woman leant back as Alice did what she had been sent there to do, gritting her teeth but not crying out. Alice a
dmired her stoicism. ‘You’re taking this very well,’ she said.
The woman replied only when both legs were finished. ‘Used to it, ain’t I? I usually does it for myself. Lap of luxury having someone else to see to it. Will you do this all the time now?’
Alice checked the doctor’s notes in her mind’s eye. ‘Me or one of the other nurses, depending on who is available. We have to share patients now, as we’re being called out to tend to injuries after every raid.’
The woman became more animated. ‘Bleedin’ nuisance, they are. I can’t get me gin. One of the pubs got bombed and the other one won’t serve Pauline. I had to go over there myself – in my condition, I ask you. I said to them, we ain’t ever had no trouble before. You’ll get paid if that’s what yer worried about. The nipper don’t drink it, she knows she got to bring it straight back to me, but he wasn’t having any of it. Bleedin’ busybody.’
Alice nodded. She knew Pauline went on errands for her grandmother, including buying her gin, which the old woman was never without. ‘Maybe it’s just as well not to send her out in the evenings, in case she gets caught when the siren goes,’ she suggested.
‘She knows how to look after herself,’ the old woman claimed. ‘It’s all I can do to mind her little brother. We stay here, we’re as safe as anywhere.’
Alice thought about advising her patient to make for the nearest shelter, but could see that walking anywhere would be difficult for her. She would speak to Pauline’s teacher, and make sure the little girl knew she could take her brother to a nearby church hall, which Alice remembered had a big shelter. That might be the most diplomatic course of action.