by Rosie Clarke
Beth didn’t write to Jack about her suspicions, nor did she tell Fred or anyone else that she thought she might be pregnant again. Fred looked at her oddly a couple of times but didn’t say anything; he was waiting for her to tell him and she was waiting until she had time to visit the doctor.
‘Well, I am glad to confirm that you are with child, Mrs Burrows,’ Doctor Marsh told her after he’d examined her. ‘We’ll do more tests, of course, just to be certain, but I’m fairly confident that you are about two months along.’
That would coincide with a night after Tim’s funeral when she’d comforted Jack and he’d taken her with a fast and furious passion that had slightly shocked her. Afterwards, he’d whispered an apology against her hair, but none had been needed. Beth had understood his mood. Grief made people do many things and it had made Jack more selfish and needy that night, but she’d given him what he needed without complaint – and now it seemed that the result of that frantic coupling was a child.
Beth hesitated before asking the question that nagged at her and yet terrified her. ‘Will I carry it full term this time, doctor?’
‘We shall do our best to see that you do, Mrs Burrows. Last time, if I recall rightly, you were under a lot of strain. Your aunt died and your uncle was accused of murdering her…’
‘He attacked me because I had him investigated,’ Beth said, her throat tight. ‘My poor aunt – she waited all her life for the right man and then she married a rogue.’
‘It often happens. Such men take advantage of vulnerable women,’ Doctor Marsh said and shook his head. ‘Her father should have seen her married to a good man when she was young – that is the safest and best way for a young woman, Mrs Burrows.’
Beth murmured something. She didn’t agree with his old-fashioned ideas, but in her aunt’s case perhaps her husband had taken advantage because she was alone and vulnerable. He hadn’t got away with it, because Fred had hired someone to investigate him and the police had locked him up until he stood trial and was punished as a thief and a murderer. Yet it had been too late for Aunt Helen and that was something Beth could never forget.
‘So, this time, we shall take better care of you,’ Doctor Marsh’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He patted her hand in a fatherly way. ‘I suggest that you do not work past six months and after that get plenty of rest – until then take your time over things and don’t rush about. Do you have an understanding employer?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Beth told him with a smile. ‘Sally Harper is a good friend and she will tell me to take it easy.’
‘I think you’re well situated.’ Doctor Marsh looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Some of my patients have no choice but to work until the last minute and they have to return to work as soon as they are fit enough – some do so before they’re well and that is not a good idea. I hope you will take the time to enjoy motherhood, Mrs Burrows. It is, after all, a woman’s proper function.’
Beth thanked him, assured him she would take care of herself and left his surgery feeling as if she were walking on air. She was having Jack’s child and this time she was happy about it. The first time she hadn’t been ready to give up her job, but she’d known when she’d seen Sally nursing her baby that she desperately wanted her own. She would be sorry to leave Harpers and would stay on as long as she was able to work safely so that Sally could find a new supervisor for the department, and, that being the case, she had best tell her employer first and ask her to keep it a secret.
‘Beth, that is wonderful news!’ Sally said and rushed around the desk to embrace her. ‘I’m so happy for you – how long are you advanced?’
‘Nearly three months the doctor thinks.’ Beth’s cheeks pinked. ‘It must have happened when Jack was home for the funeral. I’m glad that something good has come from that terrible time…’
‘It was awful for you – Ben and I felt dreadful too. We both think a lot of you and Jack – and Fred, of course…’ She hesitated, then, ‘When do you want to stop work?’
‘I’d like to work until it becomes uncomfortable. The doctor suggested another three months or so, but I might do four…’
‘Well, we’ll see.’ Sally looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll talk to Rachel and Mr Stockbridge, see if they think there is anyone within the store we could promote to take your place. I would rather promote from staff and take on more juniors.’ She had quite a few capable young women working at Harpers now. They had gravitated towards it when she’d advertised for new staff, saying that women would be given real opportunity, and she was confident that many of them could step into Beth’s shoes when necessary. However, Beth was special and it would still be a wrench to lose her, though their friendship would continue.
‘Yes, because other stores don’t train them as well,’ Beth agreed. ‘I know there is a young woman on the ground floor – her name is Sylvia Gower and she is very keen. She visits us now and then and asks lots of questions…’
Sally nodded and then spoke her thoughts aloud, ‘I wondered if Rachel would like to take over the department again. I’m not sure we need a floor walker. I’ve been considering making that post redundant. I believe each floor supervisor should be responsible for keeping it tidy, clean and well stocked. Rachel told me that with at least three of our departments she hardly needs to visit…’
‘I can’t see why the department supervisor can’t be responsible for it all,’ Beth agreed. ‘You might need to check some of them yourself or ask Mr Stockbridge until they get used to it – but I agree that it is not a necessary position.’
‘I shall speak to Rachel about it,’ Sally said. ‘If she agrees, I’ll ask her to take over the department again, but if not, we might try that young woman – Sylvia Gower.’
Beth sighed. ‘I’ve made a lot of work for you, Sally.’
‘Not a bit of it – I’m thrilled for you, Beth, and if you want to borrow any knitting patterns, I have loads. Come over and we’ll go through them one evening.’
Beth thanked her and went back to the department. She wondered why Sally had decided to cut the position of floor walker. Was she struggling to keep the financial balance healthy and just a measure of economy or did she really feel it unnecessary?
Rachel listened to what Sally had to say later that morning and then nodded. ‘Yes, I should like to take over when Beth leaves,’ she said, because Beth had given her permission to tell Rachel about the baby. ‘I’ll be honest, Sally. I know it was a promotion and I appreciated it, but I miss working with the girls and the merchandise. My present job is not as personal and I sometimes feel it unnecessary.’
‘And do you think I’m taking a risk in not replacing you?’
‘I think it is something you should keep under review,’ Rachel said and looked thoughtful. ‘I sometimes feel that I am not needed – but occasionally I’ve had to speak to one or two of the supervisors. If you notice a change in the store’s appearance or efficiency, then you must reinstate the post – but you could try to run Harpers without a floor walker. Either you or Miss Harper could walk the floor once a day and that should be sufficient.’ Jenni had decided to revert to her maiden name now that she’d parted from Henry. She preferred it and those staff who remembered her from before the war were used to calling her Miss Harper.
‘Yes, Jenni would soon put any slackers to rights,’ Sally replied and made up her mind. ‘I think that’s what we’ll do for now, Rachel.’ She smiled at her. ‘And now, tell me, have you heard from William?’
‘Yes, thank goodness,’ Rachel said and her face lit up. For a time, she hadn’t heard and been worried to death, but then his letters had caught up. ‘I had a new letter arrive yesterday evening, brought round by special messenger. He has been wounded and is being sent home to convalesce. He says it is not life-threatening and he’ll be here on Friday week he thinks, though he will need to stay in hospital in London for the time being.’ She smiled. ‘I can’t wait to see him.’
‘I’m relieved you’ve heard from William, Rachel. Of c
ourse, I’m sorry he has been wounded, but at least you will get to see him soon – and hopefully it will not be anything serious.’ Sally reached out to touch her hand. They were friends first and foremost, even though Rachel worked for Harpers and Sally was the owner’s wife. Sharing the flat for well over a year had formed a bond between them that ensured their friendship would continue no matter what else changed.
‘I shall worry until I know,’ Rachel said, ‘but as long as he’s alive that is all that matters.’
‘Yes, of course it is,’ Sally agreed. ‘I think we all worry about our men – I know I live in dread that we’ll hear another of Harpers’ men has been hurt or killed.’
‘Fred has had a letter from Ernest Jones’ mother,’ Rachel told her. ‘He’s had a slight wound to his arm, but he has recuperated over there and been sent back up the line. She is furious, because she thinks he should have got home leave and she asked Fred if he knew who she could complain to.’
‘It does seem unfair he didn’t get leave,’ Sally agreed, ‘but Maggie told me in one of her letters that some of the men actually refuse it. They see their friends killed and they want to go back and shoot Germans for revenge…’
‘How awful!’ Rachel shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I hate this war, Sally. It’s so horrible. The papers report things that are inhuman – and imagine we should be pleased when an enemy ship goes down. I know we need to win this war and I’d rather it was an enemy ship than one of ours – but those poor men and their mothers and fathers…’ She shook her head and looked sad.
‘Yes, I know,’ Sally replied, feeling sympathy for Rachel as well as all those killed or maimed by the war no matter their nationality.
‘I expect I’m a little too emotional,’ Rachel said. ‘I do try to be objective, but sometimes it is hard.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Sally agreed. ‘When I see some of the burn victims, I feel devastated, Rachel, but they are so brave – and we can only be the same. Life goes on and we’re lucky that we have men willing to give their lives for us.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Rachel said. ‘I suppose I feel guilty sometimes – guilty for being a woman and unable to fight…’
‘The only reason we can’t fight is because men won’t let us,’ Sally said. ‘Ben has a pistol in his desk at home and I know how to load and fire it – if we were invaded, I would fight rather than let the enemy near my daughter.’
Rachel looked at her and then laughed. ‘Yes, I believe you would, Sally Harper. I’m so glad I came to see you; you’ve really cheered me up.’
Rachel visited the hospital that evening. She took books, sweets, cigarettes and magazines for the men. She rotated the wards she visited each week now and had formed a friendship with some of the nurses. Sister Wright also had a husband serving in the trenches and she liked to talk to Rachel when she had finished her visit to the men.
That evening, she was just finishing her duty as Rachel was about to leave. They decided to go to a nearby café and have a pot of tea and a plate of toasted teacakes so that they could talk for a time.
‘How is Mrs Harper?’ Sister Wright asked as they were served their tea. ‘I haven’t seen her for a few weeks.’
‘She told me she visited two weeks ago on the Sunday afternoon,’ Rachel replied. ‘She is so busy, what with the shop and her child, though she does have help at home.’
‘Mrs Harper is unusual,’ Sister Wright said. ‘Most ladies are content to stay home when they have a child. I had retired when I married, but we were not lucky enough to have children and so when my husband joined the Army, I decided to do what I could to help once more.’
‘I was surprised that you were married – I didn’t think it was allowed?’
‘Officially, I am not allowed to work as a married woman, but because nurses are needed so desperately, Matron allowed me to return. We are good friends.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Rachel said, and smiled. It seemed the rule that no married women were allowed to nurse was being ignored, at least for the moment and by certain authorities. It had always seemed nonsense to Rachel, but many men disliked their wives to work and she knew William might ask her to give up once he was home for good, but she would face that when it happened. ‘Have you heard from Stan recently?’
‘Yes, I had a letter this morning,’ Sister Wright said, and looked happy. ‘He will be home on leave for three weeks soon and then he’s being sent somewhere else – a different posting. Of course, I have no idea where…’
Rachel nodded. She finished her tea and glanced at her watch. ‘I should get home. I have to go to work in the morning.’
‘Yes, as do I.’
They paid their bill and parted, going their separate ways. As she walked home, Rachel felt pleased that she’d decided to visit the hospital. Sally Harper had given her the idea and it had given her something to do now and then – and she’d made a new friend. At the weekend, she would be visiting Minnie Stockbridge for lunch and perhaps she would go and see Hazel in the evening. Many of her worries had slipped away since she’d heard from William and she felt lighter of heart. Perhaps he would soon be home…
35
It was Maggie’s morning off and she’d planned to walk into the village that pleasant late September morning, and spend an hour or so with the French family she’d adopted, but when she saw the transports coming in, she changed her mind and went to greet them. They were packed with wounded men and she wondered if there had been another push to break through enemy lines; it happened every so often and resulted in a lot of extra casualties, though nothing much seemed to change. The two sides were firmly embedded in their trenches and no one was budging far.
‘These men are very seriously wounded, nurse – some of them are probably too far gone,’ the driver of the first lorry told her.
She opened the back and looked in, steeling herself not to recoil from the stench of blood and excrement and the odour of death. Even after months of working at the Front she hadn’t got used to that awful smell. Some of the wounded had died on their way here and it was just a matter of taking them to a private spot for burial. The driver gave her a hand up and she climbed into the back and began to look into the faces of the injured; it was easy enough to pick out those that had passed away and she gave them a sorrowful glance as she passed by; they were beyond her help and the vicar would pray over them later.
She bent to touch the hand of a young soldier with a wound to the side of his head. Maggie was experienced enough to know that he had a chance and she summoned the orderlies.
‘Take this one to ward B,’ she said in a voice of authority. ‘He is priority.’
‘Yes, nurse.’ She was obeyed instantly and without question.
She passed through the back of the lorry, picking out two more who had a chance of life and summoned more orderlies. The remainder of the men were either dead or had injuries that meant they would die whatever was done for them. The barely living would be taken to the ward reserved for hopeless cases and given something to help them pass, whether it be a cigarette or a powerful drug. At the moment their supplies were good, thanks to a recent initiative which had brought them much-needed medicines, bandages, splints and equipment and that meant they could ease the worst cases from terrible pain.
‘Tent A for the rest,’ she told the orderlies, who gave her a hand down. They nodded, faces impassive, no longer shocked by the order or the youth of the girl who gave it. What had been terrible was now the norm and they carried on with their duties, day in and day out, just like the men in the trenches.
‘Right yer are, nurse,’ one of them said with a cheeky smile. ‘What about coming ter the dance wiv me this Saturday?’
Maggie smiled but shook her head. ‘I’m already going to a party with a friend,’ she told the disappointed soldier.
It was true. She just hadn’t told him that her friend was Sadie. Sadie had stopped crying over Pierre and become restless. She’d wanted to go to the Harvest dance to celebrate the
gathering of the grapes and Maggie had agreed, to humour her. It was a celebration of life and nature and their friends had begged them to come so they were going together.
‘Life is for living…’ Sadie had told Maggie defiantly. Her pregnancy didn’t show under her nurse’s uniform yet, though Maggie had seen the gentle mound of her stomach when she was in her nightgown. It wasn’t enough to get her sacked yet, but it wouldn’t stay secret forever. ‘I’m going to enjoy myself.’ Sadie had put off telling Sister Mayhew but she couldn’t avoid it much longer.
‘Have you thought what you’ll do?’ Maggie had asked and Sadie shook her head. She didn’t want to discuss it and wouldn’t talk about Pierre or the fact that she would be sent home once Matron found out her guilty secret.
Because of the extra cases of wounded, Maggie abandoned her plans and helped where she could, leaving only when she was ordered out by one of the senior nurses.
‘I don’t want you collapsing on me, Nurse Gibbs,’ she said. ‘Go and read a book or smoke a cigarette – but don’t come back until you’re on duty.’
‘Yes, Nurse Moran,’ Maggie said and smiled. She wandered away, visiting the primitive washing area to clean her hands and face of the blood spatter and then went off to the canteen to get some food and a cup of what passed for tea.
‘Nurse Gibbs,’ a cheerful voice said as she sat down with her ham and mustard sandwich. ‘May I join you please?’
Maggie looked up and smiled as she saw the man who had asked. ‘Captain O’Sullivan,’ she said, noting the new uniform. ‘I’m glad you’ve been promoted. You certainly deserved it.’
‘Thank you,’ Mick replied and looked pleased. ‘Have they made you Sister Gibbs yet?’