by Annie Groves
Billy had been striding along, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, fuming at the unfairness of the world. Here he was, fit and able, and walking as well as anybody else. How dare they say he’d hold up his comrades if he was forced to march for a day? He would bet he could carry a heavy pack better than most of them. He spent most of his working life hauling huge crates around the docks and hard graft came naturally to him. So why had they turned him down?
He barely slowed as he rounded the corner by the bakery, although its sign, flapping in the wind, brought to mind the taste of fresh bagels, which he loved. For a moment he was distracted. Tomorrow he could have some for lunch, if he was keen enough to get up early and take some with him. Maybe he’d have one with cream cheese and another with herring.
Then his attention was caught by a pair of headlights, weaving erratically and at great speed towards him. ‘Silly bugger will get caught by the ARP,’ he muttered, but then the lights illuminated a small figure coming along the main road. ‘Oh my God, she’s got a kiddie with her,’ Billy breathed, as the approaching car veered wildly across the road, fortunately empty of other vehicles. ‘What does he think he’s doing, on a bleeding race track or something?’ His first instinct was to get out of the way, but he could tell the woman hadn’t yet realised what was going on just behind her. She had bent to attend to her child in the pram. He couldn’t let her get mown down by this idiot. His urge to protect her was too strong and he sprinted towards her, only realising who she was at the last minute.
‘Kath!’ he shouted, moving faster than ever now he knew it was her. ‘Get in—’
It was too late. The car’s headlights rushed towards them, as the driver completely lost control and mounted the kerb. Billy had just time enough to push Kathleen, the pram and himself into a shop doorway before the impact hit them. The car’s bonnet crumpled against the corner of the doorway. Billy had saved them from the full force of the blow, but he could see that the pram was dented and Kathleen was bleeding. It took him another moment before he realised his own leg was crumpled beneath him and he was in agony. ‘Kath …’ he gasped. ‘Get the baby away …’
‘Billy! Oh my God! Help me! Brian, come to Mummy, it’s all right.’ Kathleen, even through her injuries, was desperate to save the little boy, who was now wailing at the top of his voice, trapped in his ruined pram. Frantically she pushed back its hood, which wouldn’t retract all the way but now hung at a strange angle, and scrabbled to get the baby out. Her arms seemed to be working, although she could see blood was pouring from somewhere. His little blanket would be beyond salvation, but that didn’t matter now. She tugged at the corners of the thin mattress and managed to release his feet and then, after what felt like hours but was only a minute or two, she had Brian safe in her arms and she could get him away from the crashed car.
‘Billy!’ she called. ‘Can you come over here? Come on, it’s safe here.’ She reached out her spare hand while the other clutched Brian to her as tightly as she could.
Billy groaned. ‘It’s me leg, Kath. I can’t move me leg.’ He tried to drag himself over to her but screamed in agony. It was no good. Now the rush of adrenaline had gone he couldn’t propel himself any further. He hoped the car wouldn’t go up in flames or he’d be a goner. ‘You get further back, Kath!’ he shouted.
Then there was a sound of running and a uniformed figure appeared. The ARP warden hurried towards them. ‘What’s happened here, then?’ he called, at which there was movement from the car. The passenger door slammed open and a figure emerged, tousled and shaky but apparently not badly hurt. ‘You come here and explain …’ the warden began, but the man pushed past him and began running away back down the main road before escaping by ducking down a side alley. The warden tutted but gathered himself to deal with the priorities. He took in the scene before him as best he could in the changing moonlight and the beam from the car’s one undamaged headlamp. Quickly the warden assessed the dangers, as he’d been trained to do, peering in to the vehicle and noting the driver was still in there, before he moved to reassure the wounded pedestrians. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he said in confident low tones that Kathleen found instantly comforting. ‘We’ll have you fixed up in no time.’
This was the scene Alice found when she arrived, breathless from pedalling as hard as she could into a headwind. For a moment she didn’t recognise the young woman in front of her, blood pouring from a wound to her brow, but then her voice caught in her throat as she gasped, ‘Kathleen?’
Kathleen turned her distraught face up to the nurse and cried aloud in relief. ‘Nurse Lake, Alice, oh, thank God it’s you. Will you check Brian, make sure he’s all right? He was in there …’ She pointed shakily to the crumpled pram.
Alice took a breath, knowing she must at all costs remain professional, although her immediate instinct was to reach for the baby. ‘Let me just see what’s what,’ she said, as the ARP warden approached her. Swiftly he filled her in.
‘My job’s to see to the driver,’ he said grimly.
‘Is he hurt?’ Alice asked.
‘Hurt?’ The ARP warden snorted. ‘He doesn’t seem to have anything major wrong with him. Not that he’d notice. He’s drunk, that’s what he is. Stinks of drink, he does.’
Alice’s heart sank. It was her job to tend to everyone, regardless of who they were or what they’d done, but she found it hard to treat somebody who’d deliberately brought their woes upon themselves. Now her conscience was clear – she could see to the other casualties.
Quickly she checked little Brian who, apart from being frightened and cold, seemed pretty well all right. ‘We’ll put some Dettol on his scratches when we can get him somewhere warm and light,’ she told Kathleen. ‘Now let’s see about you. That’s a nasty cut to your forehead … but don’t worry. They always appear much worse than they are, you know.’ Quickly she dealt with the gash which, although bleeding profusely, was not deep and mercifully wasn’t full of dirt or grit. ‘If you can just hold that pad against your head with one arm and Brian can go in the other … there we are.’
There was a stone ledge to one side of the bakery entrance and Kathleen sank down onto it, her head ringing where it had been struck but full of relief that, despite the scare, neither she nor Brian had come off too badly. ‘Now you got to see to Billy,’ she croaked. ‘He saved us, he did. We’d both have been goners without him, no doubt about it. Don’t let anything happen to him, he’s the last man who deserves that.’
Alice went across to the slumped figure who, now she came closer, she could tell was moaning softly. ‘Billy?’ she said steadily. ‘Can you sit up? It’s, Alice.’
The moans stopped as Billy half turned from where he had collapsed against the neighbouring shop, sitting up but with his legs out in front of him. One was at a strange angle and blood was forming a puddle on the paving slabs around him.
‘It’s me leg,’ he explained, but Alice could see that for herself.
‘Right, don’t try to move,’ she said. ‘This is going to hurt a bit, and I’m sorry, but I need to see where that blood is coming from. Would you mind holding my torch?’ The moonlight was too faint to see by, now they were in the shadow of the shop wall, and the one cracked headlight was pointing the other way. She retrieved her scissors from the Gladstone bag and neatly cut along the seam of his trouser leg, pulling back the material as gently as she could. ‘Ah, I see. Well, I’ll stem the bleeding, but you’ll need to go to hospital to have this seen to. Looks like a clean break, as far as I can tell, but they’ll sort you out. Just let me—’
‘Aaaargh, bloody hell.’ Billy couldn’t hold back his agony as she slipped something under his leg and tied it firmly over his thigh. ‘Sorry, Alice. Couldn’t stop meself. Don’t suppose you got a tot of rum on you? That’d help, I swear.’
Alice shook her head but smiled, guessing that if he could make a joke of it then there was hope for him. ‘Against regulations, I’m afraid,’ she told him. ‘Worst thing you can do if you’re in shock, as well, des
pite what you might have been told.’
‘Shame.’ Billy tried to smile. ‘Is Kath all right? And the little ’un?’
‘They’re going to be just fine,’ Alice assured him. She looked up at the rumble of an engine. ‘This must be the ambulance. Stay as still as you can until they come to you with the stretcher – I must report to them on the state of your injuries right away.’
The ambulance driver pulled up behind the wreck of the car and he and his colleague swiftly got out. Alice gave them a quick summary, and they hastened to get Billy onto a stretcher while causing him as little pain as possible. ‘And you’d better come with us too, ma’am,’ said the driver, taking a good look at Kathleen’s forehead. ‘Can’t be too careful with a bang on the head like that. Just to get you checked properly,’ he added, seeing her look of dismay.
‘But my boy,’ Kathleen cried. ‘He needs me, he wants feeding and it’s way past his bedtime. I can’t go, I’ll be all right, it’s just a scratch.’
‘Ma’am, I really would advise—’ the driver began, but Alice interrupted.
‘I’ll take him,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring him round to Mattie and Flo – they’re just around the corner. He’ll be safe there.’
Kathleen brightened. ‘Would you, Alice? They’re the only ones I’d trust him with, they’re good as gold. They know what he likes to eat …’ She started to sob as all the events of the evening began to catch up with her. She was so glad her baby was safe, and if she was honest her head did hurt very badly.
The ARP warden stepped away from the car and back towards them. ‘Did you say Mattie and Flo? Mrs Banham, you mean?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Alice.
‘Stan Banham’s on his way now,’ the warden said. ‘He’s on duty tonight and has been called as backup. We didn’t know what we’d find here. But I can deal with this young idiot. He’s in no state to make a fuss, and the police can throw him in a cell for the night to sober him up. Then he can take his punishment.’ His jaw set in anger, knowing the whole incident could have had a very different ending if the man whose leg had been broken hadn’t been so brave. The young mother and baby would have been crushed and most probably killed.
It was only a few moments later that Stan arrived, his big presence instantly reassuring. ‘My, my. What have we here. Kathleen, what have you been doing to yourself? And Alice too. Glad to see you here, though I dare say you’d rather be back in that nice nurses’ home drinking cocoa.’ His eyes sparkled with warmth in the intermittent moonlight.
‘Fat chance of that,’ Alice said wryly. She quickly told him what had happened, as the ambulance was ready to go.
‘Coming, ma’am?’ the driver called, holding open the back door. ‘You come and sit in here in the warmth and keep your friend company. He could do with a familiar face.’
Even now Kathleen hesitated. ‘But my baby …’
Stan stepped forward. ‘Don’t you worry about young Brian,’ he said at once. ‘He’ll be safe with me. I’ll even pop him inside my coat, then he’ll be toasty as can be. Mattie will see to him, you know she will. I’ll drop him off at home and then get back on my rounds. Sure you don’t need me any more, Ted?’
The ARP warden shook his head. ‘No, you get that child home. I got three of my own, I know what it’s like,’ he said kindly. ‘Then this young lady can get back home too.’
Kathleen got unsteadily to her feet. She was shaking a little with the cold and the shock but thanked everyone heartily, watching as Stan buttoned Brian inside his big standard-issue warden’s coat. ‘I’ll be off then,’ she finished. At least she knew Brian would be well looked after, and in truth warmer and better fed than he would have been at home. Flo’s kitchen was an oasis of comfort.
As she went towards the open back of the ambulance, she glanced at the wrecked car and the driver, still passed out drunk inside it. She gasped in sudden recognition. She hadn’t seen him for ages but he’d been brought to mind earlier today. The drink-addled driver who had nearly killed all three of them was none other than Pearl’s precious son, Bertie.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘You all right, Edith?’ asked Mary, breezing through the tables and chairs of the common room to her friend. ‘You look a bit down in the dumps.’
Edith put down the letter she’d been reading and shrugged. ‘Thanks, but I’m just tired. You know, the usual. Rounds finishing late, having to cycle in the dark and taking ages to get back. Now the nights are drawing in it seems even more difficult. Still,’ she said, rousing herself, ‘it’s nothing really. I’ll be all right once I get a good night’s sleep.’
Mary leant over the back of the chair opposite. ‘Oh, I do understand. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? And you must be missing Harry. Is that letter from him?’
Edith tucked a curl behind her ear and half wished she’d hidden the letter before Mary had come over. She didn’t really want to talk about how much she was missing him. It was with her every day, sometimes a slow ache, sometimes so acute she could hardly breathe. Never mind all those soppy songs about moonlight and roses and love making the world go round. The everyday reality of it was just the opposite, and from this latest letter he had no idea of when he might be back.
‘Yes, he’s met some other soldiers who want to train as boxers, so he’s setting up a sort of club,’ she said. ‘Only they haven’t got anywhere to meet yet, so they just do exercises on the parade ground.’
Mary nodded, but her face betrayed that she wasn’t at all interested in boxing. ‘Jolly good,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I bet he’ll be home before you know it.’
Edith wrinkled her nose. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Stands to reason,’ Mary said. ‘All that fuss about gas attacks over London, and us all having to be prepared to run to the refuge room at the sound of the siren, all those children being evacuated – and what’s happened? Precisely nothing. It will all blow over in a jiffy, just you see if I’m right.’
‘Really?’ Edith found it hard to believe.
‘Oh yes,’ said Mary airily. ‘Stands to reason. It’s all been a big fuss over nothing.’
‘Is that what Charles says?’ asked Edith, quietly folding her letter away so that she could reread it later in her room in peace.
Mary pulled a face. ‘Oh, he hates to talk about things like that. Says he spends all day discussing the war and so when he sees me he wants a change. Suits me. The last thing I want after a day washing wounds or changing bedpans is to hear about plans for fighting.’
‘But what about petrol rationing?’ Edith asked. ‘Or restrictions on paper? Newspapers are going to get shorter for a start.’
‘I hardly read them anyway,’ Mary confessed. ‘I’d rather listen to light music on the wireless. Who honestly reads papers from cover to cover?’
‘Don’t let Alice hear you say that,’ Edith replied.
‘Well, yes, but she’s the only person I know,’ Mary said. ‘And as for petrol, it won’t affect Charles because he’s a staff officer and needs it for the good of the country. Which luckily includes taking me to restaurants.’ She glanced at her watch and Edith noted it was a new one, with a delicate bracelet in woven gold. More benefits of knowing Charles, she supposed. ‘Must be off, don’t want to keep him waiting.’
‘Have a lovely evening,’ said Edith as she got up too. She didn’t think she could bear another conversation, pretending everything was all right, when she felt so miserable inside. It wouldn’t do to show that in public though. She would retreat to her bedroom and have a good cry, then she’d feel better.
From the doorway where she had been standing unnoticed, Gwen paused. She recognised the underlying sadness of Edith’s expression, even if the girl’s friend didn’t. She was only too familiar with it and it would bring it all back if she wasn’t careful. She fought off the waves of misery by remembering what Mary had said about the war being over soon. That girl – she was completely clueless. Anger surged through Gwen’s veins. She’d met Miriam earlier, who
’d told her that the Austrian family she’d had staying in her spare rooms had now left for Canada, but that another family would be arriving at the weekend. ‘They’re called Schmidt,’ she’d said. ‘Or at least, they are now. They had to change their name from a Jewish one to something safer but it isn’t enough. They’ve got out while they could and have next to nothing, apparently.’
‘How will you manage?’ Gwen had asked, concerned for her friend.
Miriam had shrugged. ‘We will,’ she said shortly. ‘We will have to.’
Gwen wondered if she should say something to Edith, but remembered that she herself had found such enquiries only made things worse, and so she walked down the corridor to check the district room was ready for whatever the morning might bring. She wondered if the young women around her really knew what they would be in for. How would they cope with the long haul of wartime? For she was as certain as she could be that this was just the beginning.
‘Blimey, who’s that?’ Clarrie wondered, peering around the corner of the bar of the Duke’s Arms. She unconsciously flicked her hair, catching the faintest trace of her Coty perfume, and smoothed her flared skirt. ‘He hasn’t been in here before, I’d have been sure to notice.’
Peggy tried to turn around but her friend stopped her. ‘No, don’t make it so obvious, he’ll know we’re watching. Try to see in the mirror over there.’
Peggy dutifully leant sideways, pretending she was adjusting the gilt buckle on her shoe, so that she could see the reflection of everyone on the other side of the room. ‘Who … oh, I see who you mean. No, he’s definitely new in town. Not that I’m interested, what with me being a married woman an’ all.’ She twisted the narrow band on the fourth finger of her left hand. It wasn’t the most expensive ring by a long chalk, but Pete had promised her a better one when he could manage to buy it, maybe for their first anniversary. All their savings had gone now, but they’d had their wedding and all their family and friends had come to it, to toast the happy couple and wish them well on their lives together. The only problem was that they were now many miles apart.