‘Wally was hurt during a practice raid; the other chaps hadn’t been warned and returned live fire. We have to deal with his wound here. Anything else would lead to questions being asked. The doctor is not in the know, but it was thought you could be trusted. I hope we don’t live to regret it.’
She could feel his stare burning into her, but couldn’t lift her face to return it.
‘I will need fresh towels and warm water,’ she said, reverting back to her professional voice. ‘The bullet is still in there.’
Her insides quivered with shock and surprise but outwardly she set about preparing for the coming operation with calm detachment. Firstly she took her bag to one side and went over its contents. Then she asked for and was given alternatives to what she might need. Everything was sterilised in alcohol and the camp first aid box turned over.
The operation was a success. Wally was resting as Jack rolled down his sleeves and turned towards Isobel with a frown between his brows. ‘I hope you realise that what I said earlier wasn’t just meant to refer to tonight especially, but for the duration of the war and on if necessary.’
‘I heard what you said, and I won’t forget,’ she said, keeping her back to him. She heard him cross the floor and sensed he was standing close behind her.
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.
His breath tickled her neck, her heart raced and she bit down on her lower lip as she put the last objects back into her bag and snapped the clasp.
She turned as though to walk past him but he put out a hand to stop her. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said.
Her glance never wavered as she said, ‘And encourage village gossip? I think not, better someone else takes me.’
His hand dropped to his side as he gave her a brisk nod then left the room.
* * *
The next time Isobel saw Sylvia, the pub was closed and Sylvia busy bottling up. She wanted to know what was happening to Brenda.
‘I knew she was going to be trouble as soon as she came, but I tried my best with her I really did. Mrs Crombie sent for cousin Robert, he arrived an hour ago and went straight up to the lodge.’
Isobel tried to comfort her friend. ‘I know she’s been slacking and flirting, but I think Mrs Crombie has gone over the top this time.’
Sylvia straightened up and wiped a hand across her brow ‘I think it’s more than that, I think it’s something to do with the gossip she spread and Captain Lewis.’
Isobel stood back and stared at her friend. About to spring to Jack’s defence she stopped herself and remembered the promise she had made to keep silent.
‘The POW at the Lewis’s farm,’ Sylvia gave a nod of her head. ‘Disappeared or was got rid of. You tell me there is nothing going on at that camp.’
At that point Mr Douglas arrived back from the Crombies with Brenda in tow.
‘How did it go?’ Sylvia called.
‘The lass is coming home wi’me.’
Brenda said nothing, but gave them a wink as she followed her dad through to the back. Sylvia shook her head, ‘They’ll never do anything with her.’
Half-an-hour later as Isobel was on her way out, there was a terrible bang and crash from the back room. The women stared at one another then Sylvia rushed from behind the bar and through the doorway into the house. Isobel heard Sylvia call out and hurriedly followed her. When she entered the room that was the Brown’s living room she found Sylvia struggling to lift Norman to his feet.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked hurrying forward to help her friend.
‘Cousin Robert punched him.’
‘What, who?’
‘Brenda’s dad. He hit Norman and walked out.’
Norman wore an expression of total incomprehension and Isobel had to smother a guilty grin. If the swollen redness beneath his eye was anything to go by he was going to have a nice shiner to explain away this evening when he opened up.
* * *
‘Not enough spies around here, Duncan. Brenda has had to go back to Newcastle.’ They were doing his exercises and he was still anxious about the Land Army girl.
‘Jack said she was one of ours,’ Bobby reminded him. ‘She should be in the woods with us but she’s not. She goes playing in the woods.’
Isobel cast him a sidelong glance, how much does he know, she wondered. For all his slowness he didn’t miss much. Had Jack under estimated Bobby? When she left the farm she decided she must phone Jack and arrange to meet him.
Macky was standing alongside the phone box when she returned to the village and because she didn’t want him overhearing anything she had to say she headed instead for the post office.
The Misses Simpsons would let her use their phone in an emergency and she felt she wouldn’t be telling a lie if that was what she called this.
Jack agreed to call at the cottage that evening and offered to invite the driver to accompany him.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said a little stiffly. ‘We need to talk privately.’
She thought she sensed humour in his voice when he said, ‘Very well then. I’ll see you later.’
She sailed through her afternoon cases in a mood that made the pedals on her bicycle sing and such was her good fettle that when Macky turned up at evening surgery she even gave him a smile.
The kettle was on the boil, the best china out, the kitten sleeping in his basket and Phyllis visiting her parents. Isobel had washed and changed out of her uniform, when the knock on the door came. She crossed the floor and opened the door then felt all the colour drain from her face. A man in airforce uniform stood on the doorstep.
‘Miss Ross. Miss Isobel Ross?’
Isobel’s voice had deserted her so she nodded her head.
‘I’m Captain John Philips from RAF Leeming. May I come in?’
She stepped to one side to allow him to enter, then led him through into the living room.
‘This is nice,’ he said. ‘The one thing we all miss, home comforts. My wife does her best, bless her, but her cakes always manage to get demolished before they reach me.’
He has a nice smile, she thought then, but Jack will be here soon.
The airman’s face straightened as he said, ‘I believe you had notification from the war office about your brother.’
‘Yes,’
‘Well I have to tell you that we have had some recent information and it would appear that there may be a slim chance that he is still alive. One of our people was picked up by a Norwegian fishing boat but he has yet to be identified.’
His voice and the room came and went with sickening repetition until she convinced herself that she was having some kind of terrible dream, his plane had been seen exploding over the sea after being hit. She was reading the telegram over and over in her head, his death had been witnessed.
Suddenly there was someone else in the room and she didn’t have to dream any more, she closed her eyes and sank into the chair.
When she opened them again Jack was leaning over her with a glass of something in his outstretched hand. ‘Take a sip of this, it’ll do you good,’ he said, pushing the glass towards her.
The glass rattled against the edge of her teeth then the brandy slid down her throat. Coughing she sat forward and pushed the glass away. She glanced around the room then looked up at Jack.
‘He’s gone.’
Shaking her head she wondered if she had imagined it. She tried to tell Jack what had happened, but found she was afraid in case it wasn’t true.
‘What did he want?’ Jack had replaced the glass on the table and was standing by the fire watching her.
Flapping a hand at him she made to rise from the chair. ‘He said there may be a chance that Alan is still alive.’ Turning her back on him she made her way to the kitchen.
‘They’ve had word of him?’
‘No. Just that a fishing boat picked an Englishman out of the North Sea and they think it might be Alan.’
‘Norwegian?’
‘Yes.’
>
She ran the insides of her wrists under the tap and wiped a cold cloth across her forehead. Feeling more human she turned to face Jack who was standing in the living room doorway.
‘If it is Alan, the Norwegians will get him home.’
‘I know. I hardly dared to hope, it was just the shock.’ In the next breath she was asking after Wally. ‘When would it be convenient for me to come up and check on him?’
‘Wally’s fine, you did a good job. His aftercare is nothing our chaps can’t handle.’
They returned to the living room and sat down. ‘The reason I asked you to come down was because when I was at the farm earlier I spoke to Bobby, or should I say Bobby spoke to me. He was angry because Brenda hadn’t been in the woods practising. You had said that she “was one of us”, so she should have been in the woods.’
‘Umm, that was probably a mistake. Your brother told me that your father taught him to fly, not you?’
‘No. I was destined to play around with the wireless, tweaking the cat’s whisker and all that.’
‘I hoped that might be the case. We need someone to listen in and take messages, could you do that?’
Isobel hesitated, pleating her brows in a frown. Then she was shaking her head slowly from side to side. ‘I don’t have the time.’
‘Not full time of course, just the occasional evening, a couple of hours at the weekend.’ He sat forward in his seat elbows resting on his knees. ‘The threat of an invasion has died back but there is still much work to be done.’
‘But I know nothing of your equipment, we were just playing around.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it was a bit more than that, and we have people to show you how to go on. I was wrong to blame you for the gossip, you’ve proved you can be trusted, now will you do that bit extra for your country and help us out? What would Alan say?’
‘You know perfectly well what he would say. It’s not that I don’t want to help, of course I do, it’s just that I feel inadequate to the job.’
‘Why don’t you come up to the Hall and see for yourself. Meet the other members of the crew. They’re a rum bunch, but they all have a skill that is vital to the safety of this country of ours.’
She was hypnotised by a small tic on the good side of his jaw. Secretly she was thrilled to be asked to join in the work of the people at the Hall. To be involved with him in such a serious and dangerous job was more than she had dared wish for. Her eyes travelled up to his. ‘Yes, thank you. I would like that.’
He smiled and she saw again that lightening change in his expression.
‘Do I call you sir, now?’ she asked with a cheeky grin.
‘Only on duty.’
* * *
Walking in the hills not long after learning that Alan may yet be alive, she watched the deer delicately nibbling the last of the leaves from the deciduous trees. She was thinking of his letter to her when they both thought it would be his last and as she breasted the top of the hill there it was, the eagle, a golden flash in the wintry sun.
Shading her eyes she followed his flight as he dipped and soared on the air currents. Nature’s mantel was changing, mice, birds and squirrels foraging for food in preparation for the coming winter. Life moved on. Alan would come home and they would continue to fight this war together.
* * *
It was her first night at the Hall. Jack met her at the gates and walked back up the drive with her explaining as he went the procedure she would need to adhere to on future occasions.
‘You may meet people you know here but when you leave, you leave that knowledge behind. You are no better acquainted with them tomorrow than you were yesterday. You focus only on the job you do.’
‘May I call and see Wally?’
Jack frowned. ‘Come back in uniform or as a friend, but not tonight.’
‘Right,’ she nodded her acceptance.
In the Hall she was handed over to a young officer who escorted her into the rear of the building to what had probably been the housekeeper’s parlour once upon a time, but tonight was a hive of activity.
Her first shock was the sight of Mrs Crombie making her way towards her.
‘Nurse Ross, how good of you to join us. Now tonight we only want to see what you know,’ she said, bustling her way through the desks and chairs where several men and women sat in front of radios and transmitters and all matter of instrumentation.
She came to a halt in the far corner of the room where a young woman was sitting with earphones on and scribbling away in a note book. ‘This is Lisa, she will make you familiar with her equipment. Are you familiar with Morse code?’
‘Yes I . . .’
‘Good then you will pick everything up in no time.’ And she marched off back up the room.
Isobel turned to stare at the woman called Lisa who had taken off her earphones and was grinning at her. ‘Don’t be put off by the dragon,’ Lisa laughed, ‘she’s quite harmless really.’
‘Oh I’m not, it’s just . . .’
‘Pull up a chair and we’ll get started.’
By the time her three hours were up she was already at her own desk. On her way out she passed a group of officers standing talking in the entrance and with a shock recognised Andrew Foreman. Why hadn’t he seen to Wally’s bullet wound, after all he was the doctor, not her.
She put this question to Jack two nights later. ‘You were available, Andrew wasn’t, it’s as simple as that.’ She had come up to the Hall to visit Wally who was making a rapid recovery. Jack showed her the way then left her to attend to other work. Wally grinned when he saw her, his only complaint one of stiffness in his arm so she gave him some exercises to do.
‘I believe coming to my rescue has caused you some trouble,’ he searched her face anxiously.
‘Glad to be of help,’ she interrupted him. ‘Really. It’s good to feel useful even if it’s in a small way.’
‘The captain’s pleased to have you with us, he doesn’t say much, but what he does say he means and he told me it was good to have you on board.’
‘Did he now?’
Wally cocked his head on one side and gave her a considering look. ‘He’s a hard man to know I’ll grant you, and an even harder one to help, but he’s been a good friend to me and I’d lay down my life for him. Give him a chance, Nurse, he needs you.’
Isobel was taken aback. ‘Strong words, Wally.’
‘But true.’
* * *
The night the bomb dropped above Pine Tree Farm the whole village quaked in excitement. It was their first taste of the real war raging all around them and it was brought home with devastating effect. Shelters that had seen little use to date were suddenly bursting at the seams.
Gas masks that had been carried everywhere but never been outside their boxes except during practice were hauled into life.
Macky Mackenzie and his homeguard stormed the streets bullying the old and infirm who preferred the safety of their own beds come what may, dousing lights that dared to peep from door, torch, or candle. Timmy Green was searching for his dog that had taken fright and run off. While the Simpson sisters had been cooking a late supper and left the gas on.
A baby’s cry, a shushed warning to older children as adult ears listened to the sound of an enemy plane in trouble. Men’s voices at the doors called along the street. A stuttering then a bang and suddenly the street was full of men running through the allotments, clambering over fences and making a dash to where a small dark figure was floating down from the sky.
Isobel returned to her cottage to find the nose of the plane protruding from the front garden while a large piece of the wing lay on her front step.
‘Looks like they’ve got the Jerry.’ It was Constable Burns, indicating a triumphant Macky marching back through the allotments with his prisoner. The man behind him carried the parachute, while others marched protectively around them.
‘Are there any injured, Constable?’ Isobel asked turning back to the policeman.
‘None that I know of, except Timmy Green who fell down in the dark and scraped his knees.’
‘I’m sure his mother will manage and I will see him in surgery tomorrow.’
* * *
That night Jack was alone in the cockpit. He’d ordered his crew to the back. But couldn’t hear himself shout over the drone of the plane. He panicked, he had to get out, but he was strapped securely into his seat. Fighting with demonic strength he hurled Wally across the floor to crash into the wall and lie still.
Suddenly awake he raised his sweat slicked body from the bed to stare in distress at Wally’s still form. Throwing himself from the bed, his missing leg forgotten, he lost his balance and fell. Wally came round and holding his head with his good arm squinted stupidly at Jack lying across his legs.
‘Captain, Captain, are you all right?’
Jack’s shoulders shook with the force of harsh tears. ‘Your arm,’ he cried, ‘I thought . . .’
‘No, no harm done, I’ll live, come on, Captain, let’s get you back to bed.’ Both men hauled themselves upward and using Wally’s good shoulder as a crutch, Jack manoeuvred himself back onto the bed.
‘You’re not on duty, man. You’re in no fit state,’ Jack said, pulling himself together. ‘I could have killed you.’
‘No sir, not you.’
But Jack wasn’t convinced and lay a long time thinking of what might happen some day if he didn’t get these nightmares under control. It was all very well taking tablets and being told that it would take time and that eventually his nightmares should get less and less until they faded away altogether. He groaned and turned over.
ISOBEL SPEAKS OF JACK’S DEMONS
That night Isobel couldn’t get Wally’s words out of her head. When he said that Jack needed her he had sounded so sincere. What, she wondered for the umpteenth time, had made him say that. It was a strange thing for someone so close to him to say.
That a man like Jack might need anyone. True she had thought at one time that he might need her friendship if nothing else but he had proved her wrong. He had fought his demons and returned to serve his country once more.
A Caring Heart Page 13