by Molly Green
He took hold of her hand as they walked past the reception desk.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘The Royal Opera House,’ he said. ‘It’s not far. Covent Garden.’
‘Oh, I thought you said we were going dancing.’
‘We are. They changed it into a dance hall at the beginning of the war – more likely to raise people’s spirits than going to the opera. They hold dances every night and it’s usually packed. Amazing, considering a bomb could drop on them any time.’
He must go quite regularly, she thought. She wondered idly who he’d brought, then decided it was none of her business, and in any case it would have been before they’d started going out together. What was in the past had to remain in the past.
She’d never been inside the Royal Opera House before, though she’d always given more than a glance at the columned façade when she’d passed in front.
‘I didn’t think there’d be quite this queue when we’ve come so early,’ Edwin grumbled.
‘It shows it must be good,’ Maxine said mildly, wondering if it stretched to the other side of the building. If so, they were in for a long wait.
But fifteen minutes later they’d stepped inside. She drew in a quick breath, totally unprepared for the sight and sound that engulfed her. What had once obviously been a sumptuous interior had given over to a heaving mass of bodies. On the bandstand she was thrilled to see a group of female musicians belting out a swing number, and a glamorous woman leading on the saxophone.
‘Ivy Benson and her all-girls band,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Edwin, I’ve always wanted to see them.’
Edwin nodded with no seemingly particular interest. ‘Keep your eyes open for a table.’
She followed him as he forced his way through the crowd.
‘Goodness, however many people have they packed in here?’ she asked as he took her jacket, somehow having managed to find a table to share with another couple. He draped her jacket on the back of one of the chairs and she removed her hat and balanced it on top.
‘They say the place holds fifteen hundred,’ Edwin said, eyeing up the floor and the people sitting high in the balconies.
He was shouting above the cacophony and she barely caught his words. It was certainly not the right place to have a conversation.
‘What would you like to drink, poppet?’
‘A glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you.’
After their drinks, he led her onto the dance floor. He was an excellent dancer, but she couldn’t relax, so terrified was she of making a wrong step.
‘Listen to the words,’ he whispered when Ivy Benson was singing ‘I’m Getting Sentimental Over You’. He gave her hand a squeeze, his breath tickling her ear.
After two or three more dances – one being the jitterbug, which was the latest craze from America that even Edwin couldn’t master – he led her back to the table, where another couple had taken their places.
‘Excuse me,’ Edwin began, pointedly looking at them, pink with annoyance.
‘Oh, was this your jacket?’ A scarlet-lipsticked woman looked up at Maxine who nodded. ‘I had to sit down, love – my feet were killing me.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Maxine smiled. ‘We’ll find somewhere else.’
‘If you’re sure …’
‘Maxine!’ Edwin’s tone was a little irritable.
‘Come on, Edwin. People are coming and going all the time. There’s bound to be something.’
But since they’d been on the dance floor, many more couples had come in and grabbed the few remaining tables.
‘Are you feeling tired?’ Edwin asked as they trailed round trying to spot a couple of spare chairs.
‘Not really.’
‘Incorrect answer,’ he said, chuckling, his happier mood seemingly returned. ‘You’re supposed to say, “Yes, darling, I’m tired out and all I want to do is go to bed – with you.”’
Now it was her turn to flush.
He pressed her hand. ‘Shall we go?’
She hadn’t known how to broach the subject of Edwin wearing something to protect her, but to her relief he brought out a small packet and swiftly covered himself. It was almost as painful the second time, mainly because Maxine was tense once more, made worse by Edwin telling her to relax and enjoy it. She tried to concentrate on him and his pleasure and was thankful the searing, throbbing pain began to subside the moment he pulled out of her.
‘You’re still as tight as a virgin,’ he said as they lay together afterwards. ‘It’s exciting for me but probably not so much for you.’ He kissed her swiftly on the lips. ‘You wouldn’t think you’d been married to your Johnny – for how long was it?’
She was glad it was dark in the room and he couldn’t see the warmth rise to her cheeks. She wished he hadn’t mentioned Johnny.
‘He was away a lot and he was killed early on.’ She really didn’t want to talk about it; it made her feel she was being disloyal to Johnny’s memory.
‘It must have been awful for you,’ he murmured, ‘but I’m here now.’
In the morning he made love to her again, and finally she told herself she was almost enjoying it.
‘It’s our secret, poppet,’ he said more than once. ‘Let’s keep it to ourselves. There’s too much gossip by far at the hospital and we both need to concentrate on our work.’
Chapter Twelve
She was only five days late. It was nothing, Maxine told herself. What with the war on and everyone’s energy about to snap at any moment through lack of sleep and too few staff, she shouldn’t expect to be on time, every time.
But you’re never late.
They’d managed several more dates, mostly ending in his bed, but Edwin had always been careful to use something.
Except that very first time.
Several more days passed. Maxine tried to put the worry to the back of her mind, but however busy she was, however demanding the patients, however rude Staff Nurse Johnson, it was always there. Was it possible …?
And then one morning before breakfast she was sick. The suspicion, now confirmed, struck her with such force she almost reeled as she pulled herself up from the toilet bowl. She was going to have a baby. She felt sure of it.
She rinsed her mouth and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked more like a patient than a nurse – her skin pink and blotchy, her eyes anxious. Despite her fears she smiled at the image. Everything would work out just fine. She loved him and he loved her. Being fourteen years older, he’d be thrilled to become a father at last. She hugged the thought to her. A baby. A baby with Edwin. Would it be a boy or a girl? She didn’t care, so long as it was healthy. He’d probably want a boy. Most men seemed to. But perhaps he wouldn’t care either.
Now that it was real and she’d accepted the truth, she couldn’t wait to tell him the news.
But she had to wait two more days as Edwin had gone to see his parents. He rarely spoke of them, and when he did it was usually not very complimentary, so she was rather taken aback that he was going to spend a whole weekend with them. But they were elderly, which pleased her, really, that he was keeping an eye on them.
Edwin looked strained around the eyes and mouth when he came back to work on the Monday. Maxine wondered if he’d had a difficult time with his parents but she decided not to question him as the subject always seemed to put him in an irritable mood. Well, she was about to change his mood completely – change his life forever. And for the better.
She went to the kitchen to put the kettle on, hoping he would follow her. He did.
‘Would you like a cuppa, Mr Blake,’ she teased, loving that she had to pretend there was nothing between them in front of the others, although she couldn’t help the image of their last time in bed together. Was he thinking of it too? She felt a stab of excitement at the memory of their arms and legs entwined …
‘Later.’
His abrupt tone made her jump. She gazed at him curiously. He must have somethi
ng important on his mind – one of the patients, no doubt.
‘Sorry, Max. I’m not thinking straight. There’s something I need to talk to you about.’ He looked at her properly for the first time, his expression serious. ‘When are you free?’
‘Um – six o’clock.’
‘Good. We’ll go and have a quiet meal. See you at the lion at six forty-five.’
Before she could suggest a more private place, Sister Crook bustled in and gave Maxine a sharp look with her gleaming brown eyes.
‘We’re all desperate for a cup of tea, Nurse, so when might we expect one?’ There was more than a hint of sarcasm in her tone as her curious eyes alighted on Edwin.
‘I was just coming to tell the others, Sister.’ Maxine stirred the teapot. ‘It’s all made.’
A tingle ran through Maxine several times as she went about her business seeing to the patients. Was Edwin about to ask her the question she dreamed of? Was his abruptness earlier because he was worried she might say no? She couldn’t help smiling. He really was rather sweet.
That evening by the gate he took her arm and hailed a taxi. He seemed more attentive than usual, checking if she was warm enough, if she felt hungry, if she’d had a good day. If she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed nervous, but he’d be fine when she said yes, she would marry him. They’d have a drink to celebrate. And then she’d tell him it wasn’t all. That she had her own important news. Oh, she couldn’t wait to see his face light up.
Even in the midst of this terrible war, life was wonderful.
He’d never taken her to this restaurant before. It was an Italian place and the waiters were Italian, so she presumed, with their smiles and arm wavings, and gesturings for them to take a seat at a table for two, tucked into the corner at the back. Perfect, Maxine thought. They wouldn’t be disturbed by the other diners.
She ordered spaghetti and Edwin asked for a steak, but the waiter told him they hadn’t had steak in for the last year. She excused the flicker of annoyance in his voice when he said he’d have spaghetti as well. His very position told her he was used to such a standard and she threw him a sympathetic smile. But he didn’t smile back and seemed reluctant to start the conversation, just mentioning the patients and a particularly nasty operation he’d had to perform, only breaking off when the waiter poured their wine.
‘But it went to plan,’ he said, looking at her across the small table.
She reached for his hand. ‘Of course it did. I have every faith in you.’
‘Maxine, we need to talk. I have something I must say. And please don’t interrupt me.’ He squeezed her hand, then dropped it to pick up his glass. ‘Cheers,’ he said, his face flushing.
She hid a smile. He was going to explain how they would make an ideal couple but his parents might not approve because of the difference in their backgrounds. She wouldn’t worry too much about that. She’d had her share of a particularly difficult mother. He’d go on to say that of course she could still continue her nursing but that one day he hoped she would consider giving it up so they could start a family.
‘So you see, Max, darling, we can’t go on seeing one another like we have. I just hope you understand.’
Dear God. What had he been saying?
She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him. Or she hadn’t heard him right. What was she supposed to understand?
‘Wh-what did you say?’
Edwin had had his head down, but now his eyes gravely met hers. ‘Have you heard a word I’ve been saying? Do I have to repeat it?’
She nodded dumbly.
‘I was falling in love with you – and I can’t. I mustn’t.’
She needed to put things right. Quickly.
‘Darling, it’s all right,’ she said smiling. ‘I agree it’s sudden, but I feel the same way about you. I’m falling in love with you too, and I keep telling myself we don’t know each other very well – but we will. And there’s something I have to tell you that will bring us even closer together.’ She put her hand out to cover his. ‘You see, I’m – we’re – going to have a baby!’
She looked at him tenderly across the table. Her smile faded. Where was the joy lighting up his face? Where was his grin of delight? Instead it was as though he’d recoiled from her words. The silence was palpable. He must be in shock. She’d give him a few moments to take it in. For some reason, Bill Chorley’s face loomed in her vision and she felt her heart quicken. Then a feeling of doom descended upon her, smothering her.
Say something, Edwin. Please say something.
‘Are you sure?’ His voice was tight, dismayed rather than shocked.
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Oh, Maxine, I’m so sorry. It must have been that first time.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I was so caught up with your beauty, your sweetness. Bloody thoughtless of me not to have used a French letter.’
‘But if we love each other, it’s not such a disaster, surely?’ Maxine hated the imploring tone in her voice. ‘We can get married soon and have the baby just like any other married couple.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s impossible.’
It was as though a curtain had been pulled aside, revealing the horrible truth. She swallowed hard, waiting for it to hit her.
‘Maxine, I did … do love you. Please believe me. At first I admit it was just a diversion in this rotten war, but then we became close and it got more difficult to break up with you. But the truth is … I’m married – with two sons. I can’t afford to bring this upon my family.’ He ran his hand through his hair, not looking at her.
Shock waves pounded through her head until she thought she would faint. She clung on to the edge of the table.
‘Your pasta, Madam … Sir.’ The waiter put two steaming plates in front of them.
The sight of the pale strands of spaghetti, the white creamy sauce and the cooked green spinach turned her stomach. Her head roared and her grip on the table tightened.
‘Are you all right, Maxine?’ His voice came from far away.
She stumbled to her feet and he shot up and put a protecting arm around her.
‘Is something the matter?’ Another waiter rushed forward.
‘She needs some air,’ Edwin said. ‘It’s a little stuffy in here.’
The waiter opened the door for them and Maxine stood for a few shaking moments in the cold of the night, aware of Edwin standing behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders.
‘Breathe very slowly and deeply,’ Edwin ordered. ‘In – out, in – out. Keep doing it until you feel calmer.’
Hardly conscious of what she was doing, Maxine obeyed, but her breaths were shallow and angry.
‘Come on back in,’ Edwin said quietly after a minute or two. ‘I don’t want you to go down with pneumonia.’
Like Johnny. Her eyes filled with tears. Sweet Johnny, who had never done anything but love and cherish her.
Edwin took her arm and led her back to the same table, but the plates had gone.
‘We didn’t want food to become cold,’ the waiter said, smiling. ‘I bring it now.’
‘I couldn’t eat a thing.’ Maxine’s voice was hoarse.
‘Could you bring us both a brandy?’ Edwin said.
The waiter nodded and disappeared.
‘I hoped you wouldn’t take it this badly.’ Edwin looked everywhere but at her. ‘But, of course, I didn’t know about the baby.’
She stared at him so hard he was forced to look at her.
Bill Chorley was right. Edwin’s eyes were cold.
‘I never dreamed this would happen, Max. You do believe me, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I believe you.’ Maxine jumped to her feet at the same moment the waiter arrived and put the two glasses of brandy on the table, then quickly backed away. ‘I believe you are the most deceitful and despicable man I have ever met. I believe you don’t deserve your wife, who I’m sure is very nice and much too good for you, and your two lovely sons. I believe I wish I’d never set eyes on
you.’
‘Steady on, Max.’ His eyes darkened. ‘It takes two, you know. And I never said I was serious … or promised you a future.’ He took a swallow of brandy. ‘I thought we were just enjoying one another.’
‘Enjoying!’ Maxine spluttered. ‘I loved you … at least I thought I did. And I thought you loved me.’ She stood over him glowering, raising her voice. She could see the other diners turning in their direction, but she didn’t care.
‘If I can do anything …’ Edwin tapered off weakly. ‘Money. I can give you money. You don’t have to keep it. You can’t bring it up on your own.’
‘It’s not an “it”. The baby’s a he or a she. Your child as well as mine.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Of course you didn’t. You didn’t mean anything. And I don’t mean this.’ She picked up her untouched glass of wine and threw the contents in his face. He blinked and the liquid fell down his forehead and cheeks.
‘Now you’re being childish.’ He wiped his face with his napkin and scrambled to his feet.
‘Please don’t come anywhere near me. I never want to see you again as long as I live.’ Tears were streaming down her face but she was unaware. She grabbed her bag and rushed towards the entrance.
One of the waiters beat her to it, holding out her jacket and slipping it over her shoulders. ‘I call you a taxi,’ he said.
‘No, no, thank you. I’ll get one myself.’
She had to escape from that horrible restaurant.
Please let a taxi come soon. I don’t want Edwin to follow me. As though in answer to her prayers, a black cab pulled into the curb. She flung open the door.
‘St Thomas’ hospital, please.’
The driver looked round at her. ‘Are you all right, Miss?’
‘Just tired – like everyone.’
She wiped the tears with the back of her hand. She’d been so happy. How could that have changed so quickly? Edwin should be by the side of her, holding her hand, telling her how proud he was that they were going to be parents. And then a thought struck her. She had no idea if she had enough money to pay the fare. Edwin always paid and she hadn’t thought to check her purse to see how much change she had. With shaking hands she opened her bag and took out her purse. It was impossible in the dark to see exactly how much was there. She tried to remember if Edwin had handed the driver a ten-shilling note on the ride over. Surely not. Her fingers found a half-crown, a sixpence and a few coppers. It didn’t seem nearly enough to get her as far as the hospital. She’d have to watch the meter. Ask the driver to stop no later than when she’d used up three shillings. She’d walk the rest of the way.