by Annie Groves
‘We’ll have to have a proper Christmas dinner,’ said Flo. ‘We’ll make it the best yet. I’ve got my turkey on order from the usual old fellow down Ridley Road but I’ll tell him to get me a bigger one and then we could ask those nice nurses over too. Oh, if only Harry could be here.’
Mattie passed her father a bowl of the steaming soup and cut him some bread to go with it. Stan nodded in thanks. ‘That might be asking too much, love,’ he said gently. ‘I know you want us all to be together but we must count our blessings that even one of our boys will be back. That’s a miracle on its own.’
Mattie sat down at the table with a thump. ‘I don’t expect Lennie will get leave either. I really wanted him home for Gillian’s first Christmas, but I don’t think he will be. Surely they’d have let him know by now.’
‘You don’t know that,’ said Stan comfortingly. ‘They probably can’t tell some soldiers until the last minute. We’ll make sure Gillian has a wonderful time, whatever happens.’
Mattie nodded. ‘I know. I just miss him, that’s all. Anyway, dwelling on it won’t change anything. Pass me some of that mending, Ma, I might as well give you a hand.’
‘Yes, your young eyes can see better than mine in the gaslight,’ said Flo, picking up a shirt that was missing two buttons and handing it to her daughter. Her mind was racing ahead to what she would buy at the market tomorrow. If Joe was coming home, she’d make it the most marvellous festive season ever.
‘Good heavens, what on earth is that?’ Mary asked, leaning over the banister and gazing down into the ground-floor hallway. ‘Come and look at this.’ Alice and Edith craned their necks to see what was going on, as a man in a brown overall came into view, hauling one end of something dark and bulky.
Consumed by curiosity they raced downstairs, halting as Fiona Dewar came out of her office. For a moment Edith thought they would be told off for running.
‘Good morning,’ the superintendent said, her bright eyes twinkling with merriment. ‘I presume you’ve seen our new arrival.’
Alice nodded. ‘We have – or rather we’ve seen something, but we’re not sure what it is.’
‘That’s what we were going to find out,’ added Edith.
Fiona clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I can put you out of your misery, then. It’s a piano.’
‘Gosh, really?’ Mary was delighted. ‘Can anyone try it? I’d love to have a go.’
Fiona beamed at her. ‘That is very good news indeed. I confess we have accepted this as a gift without knowing if anybody could actually play. I never got past the scale of C major, myself, and am always impressed by anyone who knows what they’re doing.’
The three nurses followed her down to the ground floor, where the piano was being shunted into the common room. ‘Where d’you want it, missus?’ asked the taller of the two men trying to move it. ‘Over against that wall?’
Fiona paused to consider. ‘In the middle of the wall, I think. Then everyone can gather around it. If we need to swing it round we will have room for that too, if lots of people want to come to the concert.’
‘Concert?’ asked Mary.
‘Why, yes, I thought we’d have a wee carol concert,’ Fiona said cheerfully. ‘Nothing like a good sing to put us in the festive mood. Excellent, Mary, you can be the accompanist. Edith, you don’t look terribly surprised,’ she added shrewdly.
Edith shook her head. ‘That’s because Gladys told me you had one last year. I hoped we’d have it again this year too. I’m so glad. I love singing carols.’
Fiona glanced at her watch. ‘Dear me, I must be away. Another committee meeting calls. But you must all write down your favourite carols and then Mary can start practising. You might like to know that it’s Gwen we have to thank for this.’
‘Gwen?’ asked Mary.
‘Why, yes. Her good friend had to make more room in her house and needed to get rid of this lovely piano, and she thought of us. So make sure you thank her the next time your paths cross.’
Alice was sitting on her bed that evening, carefully slitting open a letter with her paperknife. She looked at its delicate mother-of-pearl handle and sighed. It had been a birthday present from her parents. She knew she ought to write to them and explain why she hadn’t put in for leave this Christmas, and maybe even try to squeeze in a visit to them either just before or just after the day itself. They would understand that many nurses had to work over what were holidays for most other people.
She drew out the sheet of paper. It was from Joe, saying he would be home for Christmas. Alice gave a small smile. That was one more reason not to go back to Liverpool. She ran her eyes over the rest that he had written. He was sure that both she and Edith would be welcome at Jeeves Street for Christmas dinner, if they had no other plans. ‘That’s very generous,’ she murmured to herself. She didn’t like accepting hospitality without being able to return the favour, and she couldn’t very well invite the Banhams to the canteen downstairs, or try to cook for them using the limited facilities in the service room. Then the idea came to her: she could ask them to the carol concert. Fiona had told everyone that guests would be welcome, the more the merrier.
Joe asked about what books she had borrowed from the library, and she grinned, knowing that she had made good use of the subscription. She’d kept a note of what she had taken out, along with what she’d thought of each title, almost as a good-luck insurance that he would be back to discuss them with her. Her favourite so far had been by P. G. Wodehouse, his sunny style providing a perfect antidote to a long day of demanding work. That got her thinking – perhaps she could buy Joe a book as a Christmas gift. Something to make him laugh on those long voyages at sea.
There was no mention of Harry being able to join them. Alice knew that Edith had received plenty of letters from him and hadn’t said anything about him returning either. She was sure her friend would want to go round to the Banhams’ for the festive meal though; to feel welcomed by his family whether or not he was there. How sad it would be for Edie and Harry not to be able to spend their first Christmas together. Then again, so many would be in the same boat: husbands separated from wives, sons and daughters from parents, fathers from children. Edith and Harry were one couple among thousands.
Perhaps if she wrote now, the letter would reach Joe before he came home. Alice hunted around for her fountain pen, another gift from her parents. Writing a letter always felt better when using a really nice pen. Alice tried to picture where Joe would be when he opened it, but wasn’t sure if he was on shore or at sea, as he could give little away and his news would already be out of date. She gave a low sigh, and hoped he was warm and safe, wherever it was.
Kathleen hurried along the narrow gap between the busy market stalls. Ridley Road teemed with people seeking festive bargains, and she would have loved to have had the time to stop and gaze at what was on offer. Today, though, she was in a rush, as she had to get back to Brian. Now they didn’t have the big pram, shopping had become a quick dash to grab the basic necessities. Not wanting to presume too much on Flo and Mattie’s kindness, she had left the baby with one of her elderly neighbours, who had moved in to Jeeves Place at the end of the summer. She seemed friendly enough and had had five children of her own, but Kathleen could tell Brian wasn’t comfortable with her. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She stopped, despite herself, in front of a tempting display of tangerines, glossy dark green leaves nesting against the bright orange peel. ‘Get yer Christmas fruit ’ere!’ called the stallholder, winking at her. ‘Don’t delay, buy it today. Who knows when we’ll have any more? Don’t let Hitler spoil yer Christmas!’
Kathleen reached for her purse. It was such a small indulgence, and surely she should have something in the house as a treat. Brian would like the juicy taste for a start, and the vitamins would be good for him. Even though she could scarcely afford anything extra, she made up her mind.
‘I’ll have just a small handful,’ she said. ‘It’ll brighte
n the place up.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ said the stallholder, grabbing a brown paper bag and tipping some of the fruit into it. ‘Here you go, miss.’
Kathleen paid and was just tucking the bag into her shopping basket when a small woman in a moth-eaten headscarf pushed against her. ‘All right for some, buying in the fancy stuff I see,’ the woman hissed.
Kathleen whirled around. It was Pearl.
‘That’s not … I mean I’m not …’ Kathleen stuttered to a halt, silenced by the sheer hatred coming in waves off the shorter woman.
‘Suppose you’re all set for a lovely Christmas,’ Pearl went on. ‘At least you got your son at home with you. That’s more than I have. I got to spend it on my own without the comfort of family, and it’s all your fault.’
Kathleen couldn’t believe her ears. ‘ My fault? How is it my fault?’
‘If you hadn’t have been there, then they wouldn’t have called no police,’ Pearl said, her eyes bright with anger. ‘Now my Bertie is locked up just when I need him. Without you, he’d have got away like what his mate did.’
Kathleen was lost for words. She knew that if she hadn’t been there then the car would have hit the wall even harder – its speed had been broken when it slammed into Billy’s leg, caught her on the head and crushed the pram. However, Pearl didn’t look as if she was in the mood to listen to reason.
‘I hope you have a very happy Christmas, knowing that I’m all on my own and suffering,’ she spat, before turning on her heel and plunging into the crowd.
Kathleen found she couldn’t move. Her whole body started to shake, from the horrible shock of it and the blatant unfairness of the accusation. She’d always known Pearl had a poisonous side and only put up with her because her mother seemed to like her – or at least, enjoyed arguing with her. This was the first time she’d been directly in the line of attack though. She forced her feet to shuffle forward, heading unsteadily to the vegetable stall, where she had to make her money go even further now she’d splashed out on the tangerines, but she couldn’t think straight. What vegetable was it she’d planned to buy – carrots or parsnips?
She couldn’t stop trembling and felt like bursting into tears. Biting her lip, she cast around for somewhere to get out of the crowd, to gather her thoughts. She didn’t want to break down in public, but she was so tired. Keeping going day after day was exhausting. Ray’s money wasn’t going as far as she’d thought it would. On some days she longed for him to come back, hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. On others the very thought of him coming near her again, or worse, coming near to Brian, terrified her.
There was an alcove to the side of the butcher’s stall and she ducked into it, relieved to be out of the way of everyone pushing and shoving, the overwhelming racket of stallholders’ cries, general chatter, wheels of delivery carts being manoeuvred along the paving stones, protests of small children being dragged along by their mothers. Gradually she stopped shaking. This wouldn’t do, she told herself firmly, she had to get a grip. Brian depended on her. Without a father to rely upon, with precious little help from her own family, it was still all down to her. How she envied Mattie sometimes – good old Lennie, who sent home regular money and adored his daughter, and that big, happy, welcoming family all around her. Kathleen longed to be a part of something like that. No matter how kind they were, she knew she was an added extra, not really central to them. It wasn’t the same.
For a moment Billy’s face came to her mind’s eye. How happy he had been when she’d sat with him in the hospital that terrible evening. He hadn’t even seemed to mind the broken leg. He was a good man through and through. She’d been stupid. She’d ignored him and been swept off her feet by Ray, won over by a handsome face and charming manners, unable to see what lay behind them. ‘Well, you messed that up all right, my girl,’ she muttered to herself.
A hand touched her arm – not Pearl’s vicious grip, but a lighter, friendly pat. ‘Hello, Kathleen,’ said a woman’s voice.
Kathleen turned and saw it was Edith. She slumped in relief. ‘Edie! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?’
‘I’m between visits,’ said Edith, straightening her hat. ‘As you can see. I went to visit a young woman complaining of stomachache, and found she was actually in labour, and she had no idea. So I had to arrange for a proper midwife to come instead.’
‘I bet you could deliver a baby,’ said Kathleen loyally.
‘Well, I’ve been around quite a few births, including plenty of brothers and sisters, but I’d have to do an extra qualification to be a proper midwife,’ explained Edith. ‘I was thinking of it, but then war broke out so I didn’t pursue it. I still might, we’ll have to see. But anyway, I don’t have another patient for half an hour, so I thought I’d chance it and come here to see if there are any decorations we can use in the canteen for the carol concert.’
Kathleen’s expression grew puzzled. ‘What carol concert?’
Edith’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh no, didn’t you get the message? We’re having one at the home and you’re invited. We sent a note to Harry’s family. I just assumed you’d hear from them.’
Kathleen shook her head. ‘I thought maybe I should try not to rely on them so much, so I haven’t been round for a few days. When is the concert?’
‘Tomorrow evening – early, though, so it wouldn’t affect Brian’s bedtime,’ Edith told her.
Kathleen frowned doubtfully. ‘Would it be all right to bring him? I bet he’d love it – he likes music when Flo has the wireless on. But won’t people get cross if he cries? My ma can’t stand it if we go anywhere and he starts. I do understand if you’d rather he didn’t come.’ Her heart caught in her chest as she braced herself for disappointment. She loved singing carols – they always brought back memories of happier times, in a warm classroom with school friends. ‘He might get in the way – probably better if I don’t come.’
Edith all but stamped her foot. ‘Stuff and nonsense. He won’t be in the way. Anyway,’ she grinned broadly, ‘isn’t that the whole point of Christmas? Celebrating the arrival of a baby boy? Without that there’d be no Christmas at all, so you bring him along. If anyone complains, they can damn well come to me about it.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gladys surveyed the common room in the pale early morning light, noting all the places that would need special attention. She rolled up her sleeves and picked up her dustpan and brush, humming as she did so. She didn’t care that she would have to work extra hard to get the place into its usual tidy state after last night’s concert. Some of the nurses had stayed late downstairs to begin the clearing up, but there was still a lot to do, all made extra tricky because of the many decorations festooning the walls, lights and furniture. It didn’t matter one jot to her.
She had been a success and people had praised her singing. It was the first time that anything like it had ever happened to her, and at first she hadn’t really taken it in. If she’d ever tried to sing at home her mother had told her to pipe down before she woke one of the young ones. So she’d all but stopped. Now, though, she’d learnt the words of the carols, with a fair bit of help from Edith and Alice, and had truly put her heart into all the ones she loved. Then Gwen, of all people, who’d been sitting in front of her, had turned around and nodded with approval. ‘That was very good,’ she’d said quietly, as the concert hadn’t even finished.
The superintendent herself had come over at the end, and praised her. ‘I couldn’t help noticing what a lovely voice you have, Gladys my dear,’ she’d said in her usual brisk tone. ‘You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel!’
Gladys had blushed furiously but had managed to stammer a shy reply of thanks. Then, even better, Mary had come over. Everyone could see Mary was properly musical as she had played the piano all evening, and not got a note wrong, even in the very fast carols such as ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’. Mary had laughed in delight and said it was wonderf
ul to have a fellow musician in the room. Gladys had almost melted on the spot, she was so happy. Now, as she swept, dusted and polished, she recalled that wonderful warm feeling and broke into a smile. Perhaps she didn’t have to be the quiet mouse at the back for the rest of her life. Maybe, just maybe, things were changing at last.
Alice hadn’t really expected Joe to be back in time for the carol concert, and so she couldn’t claim she was disappointed when he hadn’t shown up with the rest of the Banhams. Then Flo had taken her aside so they could hear each other properly and said she’d just found out that he would be back tomorrow and he wanted to keep his promise about the new Ritz. ‘He said you’d know what he meant,’ Flo had continued dubiously. ‘All sounds a bit cloak and dagger to me.’
Alice had understood at once. ‘It isn’t really. He didn’t get a chance to go to that new cinema up in Clapton before he left for his training and said we’d go when he got leave.’
‘That’ll be it, then,’ said Flo. ‘He left word to see you there at seven o’clock. I don’t know how he’s getting home, so I can’t promise he’ll be back in time to come to call for you. Will you be all right? I hate to think of anyone out in the blackout, really I do.’
‘We’re all used to it now,’ Alice had said staunchly. ‘Edith and Mary might want to come along, so there’s no need to worry.’
Now she made sure she’d buttoned her warmest cardigan against the winter chill and that her torch was properly shielded with the regulation layers of tissue paper before leaving her bedroom to meet the other two nurses. She’d debated whether to wear her pale pink shirt with its pretty broderie-anglaise collar, but changed her mind and chose something better suited to keeping out the cold. Yet even if it was Joe she was meeting, and though she doubted he would have any interest in how she looked, somehow she still wanted to take care of her appearance.