The District Nurses of Victory Walk

by Annie Groves

  Stan caught her hands as she came towards him. ‘I know,’ he said, looking into her eyes with an expression that conveyed how much she meant to him. He wasn’t one for fancy speeches and so he just gave her hands an extra squeeze. ‘I know.’

  They stood still for a few moments, before two figures passed the parlour window before stopping at the front door. Flo waited for the sound of a key in the lock, but Stan was already heading for the hall, eager to see his younger boy – boxing champion or not, he’d always be a boy to him. Yet instead of one familiar figure there were two. Harry and Lennie.

  Flo cried out in delight, which brought Mattie running to see what the matter was. Within a second she was in Lennie’s arms and he was twirling her around, or as well as he could in the crowded hall. Mattie squealed in pleasure. ‘I knew you’d come. I knew it,’ she kept repeating, her arms tight around his neck. Finally he set her down. ‘Come and see Gillian,’ Mattie urged. ‘She said Da-da this morning. She knew you were coming too.’ Swiftly she touched her hand to the bird brooch as they went into the kitchen.

  Harry followed them, Flo laughing behind him. ‘Good timing as ever, son,’ she chuckled. ‘The turkey’s ready in ten minutes. You’ve just got time to wash your hands.’

  Harry turned back to her just before going into the warm room. ‘I will, Ma, I will. But there’s something else I have to do first.’ He stepped through the doorway and instantly his eyes found the person he’d been waiting to see. There she was, in the dress that he knew she kept for best, as pretty as he’d remembered her, her face now alight with joy and disbelief.

  ‘Harry,’ Edith said, slowly rising from the dining table, setting down a half-folded napkin. Then, more loudly, ‘Harry! Harry, you’re back at last!’

  Then she was in his arms and half laughing, half crying, aware that everyone was looking at them but not really giving a fig. The one wish she had made for Christmas had come true and she didn’t care who knew it.

  The turkey and trimmings demolished, the pudding and cake almost finished, Stan surveyed the room and nodded in satisfaction. This was what he loved: a home full of family and friends. This was what he had worked hard for all his life and what he sought to protect on the cold evening shifts on his ARP rounds, never complaining when people argued with him, turning the other cheek to their protests and insults. It was water off a duck’s back to him anyway. This room, here and now, was what really counted.

  ‘How about a little tot of whisky for those that want it?’ he suggested, rising to his feet. ‘Help that pudding go down a treat, it will.’

  Joe brightened at the idea. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  Lennie looked hesitant but Mattie said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll have her,’ and reached for their daughter, expertly avoiding the carrot-covered hands and then firmly wiping them on a napkin. ‘You have a wee dram, you know you like it.’

  ‘Then I will. Thanks.’ Lennie happily accepted a small glass, and Harry did too.

  ‘Suppose you prefer rum, now you’re in the navy?’ he gently goaded his big brother.

  Joe was too relaxed to rise to the bait. ‘Not a bit of it. Doesn’t matter what’s in the glass, it’s the company that counts, that’s what I reckon.’

  Flo nodded approvingly.

  ‘That wasn’t what you said when Pete gave us a taste of his dad’s poteen,’ Harry reminded him. ‘You were among friends then but you said it was the worst thing you’d ever tasted.’

  Joe pulled a face at the memory. ‘It was, too.’

  ‘I hope you aren’t comparing my fine whisky to that workshy old codger’s moonshine,’ Stan protested.

  Joe laughed. ‘He wouldn’t dare.’ He raised his glass. ‘To the cook and her helpers. Thanks, Ma. That was as good a Christmas dinner as we’ve ever had.’

  Flo could have burst with pride and happiness.

  ‘Put that down, Joe – you’ve nearly knocked it over once already.’ Alice laughed as he carefully set down one of the precious china cups on the edge of the draining board. She wondered if he was under the influence of one too many top-ups of whisky. His eyes were brighter than usual, though still dark and quizzical.

  ‘Quite right. Ma would have my guts for garters if I smashed one now,’ he agreed, backing away a little from where she was doing her stint at the washing up. The daylight had faded and the gas lamp was lit, throwing its glow over the small room.

  Alice shook soapsuds from her hands and repositioned the delicate cup with its pattern of crimson leaves on a cream background in a safer place. Then she resumed washing the rest of the crockery, conscious of Joe watching her. He seemed more intense than usual. Alice thought back to his peck on the cheek when they said goodbye before his posting and that smell of sandalwood and soap.

  ‘Shall I start drying yet?’ he asked after a while.

  Alice shook her head, unsure whether she could trust him not to drop something. ‘I think we’ve used up all the clean tea towels,’ she said. ‘There are couple drying out now over by the oven but they won’t be ready for a while. So you are off the hook.’

  ‘Who said I wanted to be let off the hook?’ he said and gave a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

  Alice gave a little laugh, and the thought occurred to her that it seemed the most natural thing in the world, to be making domestic small talk with him like this, in his mother’s back kitchen. She began to hum a soft tune, working her way methodically through the plates and saucers, then the cups. Joe picked up the melody and joined in.

  ‘I didn’t know you were a Glenn Miller fan,’ Alice said in surprise, realising she’d been singing ‘Moonlight Serenade’. Somehow she’d imagined Joe would like more serious music.

  Joe shook his head. ‘Well, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Alice Lake. I am capable of a bit of sophistication every now and then, even though I’m not a doctor or anything fancy like that.’ He said it with a half-smile, but all at once she was aware of a shift in the atmosphere in the little back kitchen.

  ‘Is there something wrong, Joe?’ Alice was suddenly unsure of herself.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong Alice,’ he said gently. ‘But it’s hard to get to know someone properly over a library book.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ When she turned to face him properly there was an intense look in his eyes that she was certain she hadn’t seen before. She could feel her pulse rate increase and took a quick breath, her hands felt clumsy and she dropped the tea towel.

  Joe looked into her eyes for a moment then bent to pick it up, handing it back to her. His face was softer now, the brief tension gone. ‘Don’t mind me, Alice. I must be drowning in all that Christmas spirit.’

  ‘A little goes a long way,’ she said, making light of it, but aware there was something else behind his half-joking words. She met his gaze. He held it and then took a small step towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. She could feel the heat from his body, he was so close, but she didn’t step away. For a moment neither of them moved.

  There was a clatter from the doorway and Edith came in with a tray of plates covered in the crumbs from the Christmas cake. ‘Alice! You should have said, you must be nearly out of hot water by now. I’d have helped.’ Her eyes took in the fact that Joe was standing so close to her friend, but he moved away as she approached. ‘You helping out, Joe? That’s what we like to see.’ She flashed him a smile.

  Joe recovered and was back to his affable self. ‘I tried, I really did, but Alice insisted all the towels were too wet, so I’ve been keeping her company.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Alice, a shade too quickly.

  Edith put the tray down on the counter. ‘Have you seen the time, though? Harry says he’ll walk me, us, home soon, if you like. You’re on duty tomorrow, aren’t you?’

  Alice wiped her hands on the apron she’d borrowed from Mattie, a bold red gingham one with patch pockets. ‘Yes, I said I’d do the morning round, as several of the others want to spend Boxing Day with famil
y.’

  Joe raised his eyebrows. ‘No rest for the wicked.’

  Alice smiled ruefully. ‘Just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean people aren’t sick. I won’t do a full day, but there’s the teenager with TB who’ll need a visit first thing as usual.’

  Edith nodded. ‘And he’s such a sweetheart, he really is. Anyway, I’m going back to the parlour. Coming?’

  ‘All right, said Alice, and made her way into the brighter main kitchen and into the warm parlour, fragrant with the scent of rich fruit cake. Whatever Joe had intended to say or do in that brief moment was lost forever – Alice was puzzled, had she imagined it, surely Joe just thought of her as just a friend — wasn’t that what they were? But this time, Alice wasn’t so sure …

  ‘Don’t wait up for me,’ Edith breathed, as Alice opened the heavy front door to the nurses’ home. ‘I’m just going to take one extra walk around the block with Harry.’ Harry was waiting at a polite distance by the gate, but Alice could tell the young couple were keen to be alone. She couldn’t blame them. He had told them on the way back that he had only three days’ leave. Edith would be desperate to spend as much time as possible with him, and yet she had to work too. Alice couldn’t begrudge her friend her night-time walk.

  ‘Rather you than me, it’s freezing,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Edith confidently, ‘Harry will keep me warm. Here, will you take this?’ She handed Alice a bag holding the presents she had been given by the Banhams: a bright knitted scarf, cleverly made by Mattie, who’d managed to decorate it with a pom-pom fringe, and a little box from Harry, which Edith had opened with a gulp of delight. It contained a delicate silver necklace with a locket. ‘So you can put my picture in it,’ he’d said cheekily, and Edith had played along, pretending to tap him on the shoulder, saying ‘Don’t make assumptions.’ But she’d whispered to Alice as they had reluctantly put on their coats in the snug hallway at Jeeves Street that she’d be finding the right picture as soon as she could.

  ‘Have fun, then.’ Alice took her friend’s bag and waved at Harry from the doorstep. ‘Night, Harry. Thank your mum again from me.’ She could barely make him out in the blackout, lit only by starlight.

  ‘Night,’ he called back, as Edith ran to his side and took his arm. Alice swung closed the big front door. It wouldn’t do to be caught out by the ARP warden who’d been unlucky enough to draw the Christmas night shift. She made her way upstairs, with her own present tucked under her elbow.

  They were all so kind. She sighed. One of the disadvantages of being an only child was that you never got to spend a big family Christmas. Her parents had always given her carefully chosen presents – often books – but there had been no jolly carol singing, or whisky-fuelled versions of ‘Roll Out the Barrel’, or a happy mixture of different generations. Briefly her thoughts flew to Mark, wondering if he was in a cold barracks or even a tent somewhere over in France. She prayed he was safe, at least, and had managed some kind of celebration. Last Christmas she had been in pieces, wounded beyond belief at his decision that they must separate. She had thought that she would never get over it. Yet tonight, if she was honest, the pain had faded a little. It was not gone completely – but when there was so much else going on in the world, her doomed love felt small in the overall scale of things. And if not the same kind of romantic love, today she had been shown wonderful warmth and friendship, which was something you just couldn’t buy.

  ‘Time for bed,’ she told herself. There was still one more present to be unwrapped. She held it tightly as she went upstairs to her room, and sat down on the bed to open it. Joe had pressed it into her hands just before she left Jeeves Street, and now she carefully pulled back the paper. Inside was a book, a collection of P. G. Wodehouse short stories. He knew her well, she realised, turning the first page, only to find an extra touch – a four-leafed clover nestling in the margin. She ran her finger over its dry shape, wondering what were the odds of this happening – since she had bought a book for Joe, and in it she too had tucked a four-leafed clover.

  Mattie started as a door banged in the darkness. It took a moment before she remembered what day it was. For a fleeting second she thought the war hadn’t happened and she was safe in Lennie’s arms on one of his usual leaves. Then it all came flooding back. She shifted slightly and the bed gave a creak.

  ‘Whassappenin,’ Lennie murmured.

  ‘Nothing, go back to sleep,’ said Mattie softly. ‘Just a door.’

  ‘Bet that’ll be Harry,’ said Lennie. ‘He went to walk the nurses home and never come back. He’ll have been with that one he’s sweet on, I bet you any money.’

  Mattie gave a quiet giggle. ‘I dare say you’re right. She’s lovely, though, is Edith. She don’t let him get away with nothing.’

  ‘Bout time he met his match,’ Lennie agreed. He turned so that he could cuddle Mattie properly, then paused and listened carefully. He could just about catch the steady snuffle of Gillian’s regular breathing from the cot in the corner. ‘Hey, do you think she’s sleeping?’

  Mattie half sat up and cocked a practised ear. ‘Yep, she’s gone off. She’ll be out for the count until dawn now, then she’ll start protesting till we let her in the big bed.’

  ‘Dawn? So, for hours?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lennie, gently pulling her down so he could put his arms around her properly. ‘It’s time I showed you how much I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Oh Lennie, what are you like?’ Mattie breathed, but she turned in his warm arms and held her face up to be kissed in the soft moonlight that filtered in from the edge of the blackout blind. This Christmas had turned out to be everything she had wished for, and more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  January 1940

  The bitter winds of January whistled through Ridley Road market, and the stalls shook with the force of them. The awnings fluttered and the sharp breezes whipped round the corners of the alleys, making chilly tunnels. Kathleen wished she had been able to fit a thicker jumper under her coat, but she needed to be able to button it up all the way from the hem to the collar if she was to keep in the slightest bit warm. She took off her glove to pull the last of her coppers from her purse to pay for the cheapest cut of meat and, even in that short time, her fingers turned blue.

  Still, the good thing was that Brian was cosy in his new pram. It was even better than the one that had been destroyed in the accident. Harry had dropped into his old place of work while he was on leave over Christmas, and one of his former colleagues happened to mention that his sister had taken her kids to be evacuated but had left the pram behind as they’d nearly outgrown it anyway. Harry was on to it like a flash. The man hadn’t even wanted any money for it as it was getting in the way, and so Harry had brought it home the very same day.

  A swift dust, thorough clean and polish later, and it was good as new. It was easier to push than the old one and had a bigger shelf to carry shopping underneath. Kath was delighted with it. It meant she didn’t have to rely on her old neighbour for babysitting – the woman was all right, but not exactly full of the joys of spring. Kath had never known anyone to have such a variety of minor illnesses and complaints – every day it was something different. She was willing to bet she heard about more maladies than Edith and Alice combined.

  Shivering, she tucked the well-wrapped meat into her shopping bag and turned to manoeuvre the pram back to the main road. Even though she wouldn’t be able to buy any fruit today, she still paused to wave at the kind stallholder, who waved back and called out, ‘How’s the boy today?’

  ‘He’s doing well, he had a lovely Christmas,’ she called back, and the man broke into a wide smile.

  Kathleen tried not to worry that the government had now announced that some food would now be rationed. You couldn’t just go out and buy butter, bacon, ham or sugar any more. Perhaps that would mean everyone got a fair share, she thought, but she dreaded not having the cho
ice of sugar in her tea. It was all very well for the likes of Flo, who never took it anyway. She and plenty of others like her looked forward to it as a bit of a treat.

  ‘Ere, mind where you’re going with that thing, your wheel nearly had me foot off.’

  Kathleen jumped back, startled. She’d been so deep in thought that she hadn’t really noticed the angry little woman straight in front of her, though she could have sworn the pram’s wheels were nowhere near her feet. Of course, it had to be Pearl. Kathleen tried to dismiss the uncharitable thought that her mother’s friend had deliberately stepped out into the path of the pram so she would have cause to complain.

  ‘H-hello,’ she began hesitantly.

  Pearl humphed. ‘Saw your ma last night. She reckons she’s seen more of me than what she has of you recently, and it being the season of goodwill too.’ Her pinched little face twisted in malicious triumph.

  ‘That’s not true,’ Kathleen protested, feeling her face blush red despite the cold. ‘We went and saw her for Boxing Day and for New Year’s Day too.’ She didn’t add that both occasions had been miserable affairs, with her mother finding fault in everything she did, whether it was the presents she brought along or how she held the baby. Kathleen had been glad to leave each time, conscious that she’d only gone round out of a sense of duty. It made the contrast with the Banham household all the sharper.

  ‘Fine sort of daughter you are,’ Pearl continued, her voice piercing. ‘Leaving your poor old ma lonely like that.’

  Hardly, thought Kathleen, not when her other siblings were close by and so much more in favour than she herself was. Besides, her mother would never be truly lonely as long as there was a sherry bottle within reach. That was her favourite companion of all.

  ‘Nice to bump into you again,’ said Kathleen unconvincingly, trying to push the pram past the vicious little woman without actually touching her.

  Pearl lifted her chin with a snort of disbelieving contempt. ‘Hah. That’s as maybe. Still, I’m surprised you aren’t hurrying home to your husband,’ she spat.