The District Nurses of Victory Walk

by Annie Groves

  ‘Yes, all right.’ Belinda still wasn’t completely sure how long it would take to get to her next set of visits but she was fairly confident she wouldn’t be late. Anyway, she deserved a cuppa. Really, that Gwen could take all the joy out of a day.

  Gwen pursed her lips as she flicked through a set of patient notes in her file. She’d had a vague hope that because of the war the new intake of nurses would be more conscientious, but she could see that she had been sadly mistaken. This latest pair were showing all the characteristics she’d come to expect from the younger members of her profession: lack of attention to detail, sloppiness, general indiscipline. What went on during those training courses she dreaded to think.

  Perhaps they still thought they were safe, in their cocoon of a cosy home with everything provided, three good meals a day, comfy accommodation, few domestic duties. There had been no gas attacks or raids as yet, and she knew the widespread opinion was that everything would soon be over with hardly anyone suffering a scratch. Yes, there had been a few casualties, but so far they’d been far away: Scotland, or far out at sea. In London more people had been injured because of accidents in the blackout than anything else.

  Gwen knew they wouldn’t escape so easily. She had been to Miriam’s house at the weekend and met her latest arrivals. Now not only did her friend have the Schmidts from Vienna living with her, but another young couple from Germany, also Jews, also fleeing while they still could, bringing with them only what they could carry. The Goldbergs had been used to a life of comfort, as he had been an engineer and she had studied to be a scientist. Now they were reduced to living in what had been Miriam’s music room, before she’d got rid of the piano.

  Despite that, they were cheerful, relieved to have got away, hopeful of getting their parents out once they’d found somewhere more permanent to live. They had entertained everyone with stories about what Berlin had used to be like before the days of the Nazis, glossing over what had happened in the years just before their departure. Gwen had found herself laughing along with them, enjoying their company, and only afterwards did she pause to reflect on what had really occurred to make them take such a drastic step, leaving everything behind.

  Miriam’s son Max was still in New York. ‘Of course I want to see him, more than anything,’ she’d confessed, as she and Gwen stood in her kitchen making dark, strong coffee for all the guests. She’d fussed over the silver coffee pot, the aroma bitter and pungent, which Gwen could not get used to. ‘I miss him more than I ever thought I would, and he’s a grown man now. Funny, isn’t it?’ She turned to put some spoons on a tray. ‘But Jacob and I have asked him to stay there. Not just for the business. We hope he can arrange for some of these good people to find jobs or houses; anything to get them away from Hitler and to new lives.’

  ‘It’s a lot to ask of a young man,’ Gwen had pointed out.

  Miriam had nodded, and in the glow cast by the kitchen lamp, Gwen could see the large shadows under her friend’s eyes, almost like bruises. ‘It is, but he’s not alone. This young lady friend of his has influential family. They will help. It’s more important he does that than see his old mother.’

  Gwen had tried to cheer her up. ‘Not so old. Steady on, we’re the same age.’

  Miriam had smiled ruefully. ‘Exactly.’

  Now Gwen slammed shut her file, exasperated yet again by the way the young nurses failed to realise what was happening virtually under their noses. As for that Belinda, well, she’d have to keep an extra-special eye on her. Just when she had thought some of the others had begun to settle down, in came trouble once more. She’d simply have to redouble her efforts to maintain standards and strict discipline in the home. The world might be going to hell in a handcart, but that didn’t mean this one establishment in the East End had to do the same.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  March–April 1940

  The big freeze of winter slowly gave way to the first signs of spring. Still the expected raids didn’t come, and even more children came back to their homes as their parents thought it was better to keep the families together. Dotty was one of the few from St Benedict’s who stayed away.

  The British Expeditionary Force continued its activities on the Continent and letters arrived home with regularity. Mattie watched the letterbox like a hawk, eagerly awaiting news from Lennie. He wasn’t a great letter writer, even she had to admit that, but it was enough to know that he was alive and safe and thinking of her and Gillian. That was all she needed. Harry also wrote when he could, nearly always with news of how his boxing training was going. Joe’s letters were longer but less regular, as they knew he wasn’t always in a position to find a postbox, being at sea much of the time – not that he could say exactly where he was. The government had begun to stress the importance of not giving away any potentially important information, reminding everyone that careless talk cost lives.

  The rattle of the letterbox brought Mattie running into the hall one morning in March, and to her delight there was something from Lennie, with his big round handwriting showing clearly on the envelope. She rushed back into the warmth of the kitchen clutching it tightly. Flo was bent over the pile of mending which never seemed to grow any smaller, but seeing what Mattie was brandishing, she perked up at once.

  ‘Shall I make us a cup of tea while you read that, and then you can tell me how he’s getting on?’ she offered, getting to her feet.

  Mattie wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t think I fancy one right now,’ she said. ‘You have one though. I’ll put the kettle on, don’t you get up.’

  Flo sank gratefully back down. ‘Thank you, love.’

  Mattie plonked herself down at the big table and eagerly ripped open the envelope. Her eyes scanned the sheets of paper – Lennie’s writing took up so much room that he always used more than one even when he didn’t have much to say – quickly checking that he was basically all right before treating herself to rereading it all again slowly.

  ‘Well?’ asked Flo, almost as keen as Mattie to hear the latest. She was very fond of her son-in-law, who was so different to her own two boys, and knew that his marrying Mattie was the best possible thing for both of them. They were devoted to each other and to their darling daughter.

  Mattie grinned happily and then pushed herself out of her seat to make the tea. Again she pulled a face at it. ‘I don’t know why, I’m right off tea at the moment,’ she commented as she brought it over to her mother. ‘Not like me at all.’

  Flo took a sip. ‘No, you’re usually the first to make a cuppa. Maybe you’re coming down with something?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Mattie sat down again and took up the sheets of paper. ‘So, anyway, here’s what’s happening in France. They’ve got a new billet which is warmer than the last one. He’s getting good use out of those socks I knitted him. The food isn’t very good. They went into the nearest village and he tried the local stuff but he didn’t like it. He says they all smelled of garlic for days after. He wishes you were there to make them a proper cake.’

  Flo nodded approvingly. ‘That’s only right,’ she said.

  ‘He’s bumped into someone who’s keen on boxing and who was in the same camp as Harry for a bit just after Christmas, and they all reckon he’s got the makings of a champion … I shan’t tell him that or he’ll be even more big-headed than usual.’

  Flo tutted gently, as Mattie shouldn’t have been rude about her brother like that, but it was a fair comment. Harry had many qualities but false modesty wasn’t one of them.

  ‘He says they spend a lot of time cleaning their weapons and practising marching. Oh well, at least he’ll be fit next time he’s back. He doesn’t say when that might be, though.’

  Flo put down her cup. ‘That stands to reason, love. They probably don’t know themselves. It’ll all depend on how things go over there, you know that.’

  Mattie sighed. ‘Yes, but I miss him.’ She paused for a moment and then tucked the letter back in its envelope. ‘He sends his love. That
’s about it. I’ll go and put this with the rest before I lose it.’

  As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, where she kept all the letters in a special box so that Gillian could read them when she was older, the thought occurred to her that she was more tired than usual. Perhaps she really was coming down with something. That would be a nuisance, as there was always so much to do around the house now that Joe and Harry weren’t there to share the heavier tasks and her father seemed to be on constant ARP duty. She’d have to buy a bottle of tonic, or maybe consult Edith. She brightened at that idea. She would walk over to the nurses’ home and leave a message to see if she fancied meeting up.

  Edith had just had a letter from Harry and was more than happy to share most of the contents with his sister. ‘I haven’t got long, as I need to take my watch to be mended after work,’ she explained, ‘but I’d love to drop in and see you all. I’m sure Harry will write to tell you about his match himself, but your parents will want to know how well he’s doing.’

  Mattie nodded, proud of her talented boxer brother, despite what she’d said earlier.

  Edith looked at her friend as they walked along the side street, with Gillian being pushed along in her pram. The little girl was making cooing noises, singing to herself. There was something different about Mattie but she couldn’t quite make out what. Mattie had said she’d felt unusually tired recently but there was something else going on.

  Edith struggled for a way to phrase it, and then just came out with it. ‘Are you all right, Mattie, other than being tired and missing Lennie, of course? I just thought there was something about you – I can’t put my finger on it.’

  Mattie nodded. ‘I did wonder if I was coming down with a bug or something like that, but I don’t know anyone who’s had anything wrong with them recently.’ She swung the pram expertly down the kerb, across the mouth of a narrow alley and up the other side onto the pavement again.

  Edith frowned. Then she paused a moment as an idea took hold. She did a quick calculation in her head and then broached the subject. ‘Look, you can tell me to mind my own business, but is there any chance you might be pregnant?’

  Mattie gasped and almost steered the pram into a wall. ‘Blimey, Edith, I don’t … no, hang on.’ The possibility hadn’t occurred to her – Lennie had been home for such a brief stay, although they’d made as much of the time together as they could. Besides, it only took once, didn’t it? She thought hard. ‘Do you know, Edith … well … come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve had my monthlies since Christmas. I had them just before and Ma had to make me raspberry leaf tea, they were so bad, but now you mention it …’ She halted as the realisation hit home. ‘I could be. You’re right, I could be. That would explain why some things taste funny, wouldn’t it? I thought I was going off tea and couldn’t understand it. But if that’s why – that’s wonderful, I must write to Lennie straight away.’

  ‘Early days yet,’ Edith cautioned. ‘Maybe wait until you’re sure – you don’t want to get his hopes up only to find it’s a mistake.’

  ‘Yes, good point,’ said Mattie distractedly, her mind whirring. Could she have made a mistake, forgotten the dates? And yet she was sure Edith had hit the nail on the head. She remembered how she’d been with Gillian, how sick she’d felt for a while. That hadn’t happened this time, or not yet, for which she was grateful, but she recalled her mother saying pregnancies weren’t necessarily all the same.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and speak to your mother,’ Edith said, almost as if she’d read Mattie’s mind. ‘This is so exciting, Mattie. Imagine, a little brother or sister for Gillian.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Mattie could feel a bubble of joy rising inside her. ‘She’ll be thrilled, they all will be. I feel like dancing, I’m so happy.’ Impulsively she threw her arms around her friend. ‘A new baby! Even though there’s a war on, it’s the best news ever.’

  Edith hugged her back. ‘I’m so pleased, Mattie. It’s just what we need.’ Her expression grew solemn. ‘Even though there’s all of that going on, this will give us something to look forward to. A reason to hope.’

  The news spread in no time at all. It was as if everybody was eager for a reason to be cheerful, to counteract the misery of being separated from loved ones or the restrictions of rationing. Mattie waited until she reckoned she was four months along and then wrote to Lennie, not wanting him to hear it from anyone else first. By then she was certain. The familiar signs she recognised from her first pregnancy told her that; soreness, tiredness, some sickness, but thankfully nowhere near as bad as it had been when she was carrying Gillian. To her relief she found she was able to carry on with her daily round of tasks and didn’t need to overburden Flo with extra chores. Not that Flo would have minded. She was thrilled at the prospect of another grandchild. ‘We’ve enough love to go round, that’s for sure,’ she’d said.

  Clarrie and Peggy dropped in to congratulate Mattie on a bright late April afternoon. It was so warm that Mattie dragged out some kitchen chairs so that they could sit in the back garden and make the most of the sunshine. Gillian toddled unsteadily between them, her face showing her grim determination to master this new skill of walking.

  ‘She’s growing, isn’t she,’ said Peggy wistfully.

  ‘Be a bit odd if she wasn’t,’ said Clarrie, who didn’t dote on children the way Peggy did. Still, she held out her arms to catch the little girl when it looked as if she might fall.

  ‘Wants to run before she can walk, that one,’ said Mattie, laughing at the child’s attempts to make it all the way across the yard in one go without holding on to anything.

  ‘Wonder where she gets that from?’ Clarrie teased. ‘Do you think you’re having a boy or a girl, Mattie? Do you want one of each?’

  Mattie shook her head. ‘I don’t mind one bit. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘What about Lennie?’ Clarrie pressed. ‘I bet he’ll want a boy.’

  Mattie shrugged. ‘He’s so pleased, he says he doesn’t mind either. He loves Gillian to pieces and doesn’t care that she’s not a boy. He wrote to say he couldn’t believe it for ages, that he was going to be a dad again. He’s so excited. I wish he was here to see her growing and to meet the new one, whenever he or she arrives.’

  Clarrie stood up. ‘I’ve left my bag inside. I brought some lemonade – shall I fetch some glasses? I know where they are, so you stay right where you are, Mattie, and take it easy.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mattie, half thinking to protest that she didn’t need pampering, but then deciding she quite liked it.

  Peggy watched her friend go inside, as she sat on the edge of her chair and twisted her hands in her lap.

  Mattie gazed at the blue sky through the branches of next-door’s old apple tree, which they’d managed to grow in the corner of their yard. The leaves made patterns against the sky and for a moment she could have fallen asleep, it was so peaceful. It didn’t seem possible that armies were lining up to fight across the Channel, and she wondered if it was as sunny where Lennie was right now. Pushing herself more upright, she carefully loosened her waistband as far as she could. Soon she’d have to start wearing different clothes. She still had her old maternity smocks somewhere, although Gillian had been born during the winter and the material they were made of might be too heavy. She wondered if she could buy some new.

  ‘Penny for ’em,’ she said to Peggy.

  Peggy tried to smile.

  Mattie looked more closely at her friend. ‘Peggy, whatever is it? Is something the matter?’

  Peggy started nervously, almost as if she’d forgotten where she was. Her smile faltered and she bit her lip. She glanced back over her shoulder, as if to check that Clarrie wasn’t returning with the cool drinks, and then she could contain herself no longer.

  ‘Oh, Mattie. I’m so sorry. I’m happy for you, I really am, but … but …’ A bout of sobbing overcame her and Mattie drew her own chair closer so that she could take her friend’
s hand.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said, quietly but firmly. ‘You can tell me anything, you know that.’

  Peggy shook her head forlornly. ‘I’m jealous of you, that’s what it is. Pete and I so wanted to have a baby, and just before Christmas I thought we were going to. I had all the signs, you know, stopping my monthlies, being sick in the morning. I almost wrote to him to tell him but I’m so glad I didn’t.’ She paused and drew out her hanky from the sleeve of her light knitted cardigan. ‘Then, when it was really cold – you know, when the river froze over? – it all went wrong and I began to bleed. I was so frightened, I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t want to tell Pete’s mum cos she’s all right most of the time but she don’t half take over given a chance. So I went round to Ma’s and she got me to lie down but it didn’t help. She explained to me I’d lost the baby. Said it had happened to her between me and my sister, that it’s the same for lots of people but hardly anyone says.’

  Mattie’s heart flew to her mouth, a sick feeling of dread coming over her at the thought of it. If she lost this baby she would be heartbroken. It was a living link from her to Lennie, a proof that he had been home and that he loved her. Peggy must have felt the same – and her not long married too.

  ‘Oh, Peggy, I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘You must have felt terrible. Are you all right – did you see a doctor?’

  Peggy nodded. ‘Then I was afraid he would send one of the nurses we know to check on me, but it was somebody else. I just didn’t want anyone to know. It was so cold out, and dark all the time, it made me even more miserable. I didn’t even see Clarrie. I don’t think she’d understand, and I wasn’t going to tell you, I didn’t want you to think about such things.’