by Molly Green
She managed to pull herself up, trying to show she wasn’t scared in front of the two little girls who were both shaking and crying as she gently brought them to their feet and covered their scarves over their noses.
‘Are you all right, Maxine?’
Maxine turned to find Barbara, who had hold of a trembling Megan, both their faces white.
‘Yes,’ Maxine said, though it wasn’t true. She felt sick with fear. ‘Can you take the twins in? I need to see what’s happened to the others.’
Barbara nodded and took the two little girls, still sobbing.
The smell of burning in her nostrils, Maxine ran towards the huddled group who lay in a dip the size of a crater, shrapnel and puffs of stinking smoke around them. One of the lime trees at the beginning of the drive had been uprooted and tossed in the air landing dangerously close to where Pat Baker had flung himself over Betsy. It was a wonder the tree hadn’t killed them all, she thought, fear making her stumble down the slope the explosion had made. She knelt by the side of the young man and gently touched his shoulder.
‘Mr Baker – Pat. It’s over. Can you get up if I help you? You’re squashing poor little Betsy.’
There was no sound. No movement. Fear rushed to her throat as she struggled to pull him off the child. Betsy’s eyes were closed. So were Beth’s and Lenny’s as they lay side by side, their clothes and faces covered in blood and shards, the little girl’s hand still clutching her brother’s. The pit smelt of burnt flesh.
Please God, don’t let them all— She thought she’d be sick with the smell but came to her senses and felt for Beth’s pulse. Nothing. She screwed up her eyes against the dust and grit, and felt for Lenny’s. It was too late. She was too late. Tears pouring down her face, she braced herself. Betsy. Not little Betsy as well. Betsy lay perfectly still, though Maxine could see no apparent wounds. But there was no flicker of life. Maxine put her fingers on the inside of the little girl’s wrist. Was it her imagination? Or was there a faint beat?
‘Betsy, it’s Nurse Maxine,’ she said urgently. ‘Can you open your eyes?’
Hardly daring to breathe, she watched as Betsy’s beautiful brown eyes opened, but now they were wide with terror.
‘Oh, Betsy. Are you hurt?’
Betsy shook her head, and whimpered like a kitten. She stretched out her little arms and Maxine gathered her close.
‘You’re safe now, my love,’ she said, fury rising at the German pilot for cutting down these innocent children’s lives before they’d begun. She hugged Betsy and took in a deep breath, the stench almost making her vomit. ‘Lie there quietly for a moment while I see to Mr Baker.’
She reached out to feel his pulse, then bit back a cry. His hand was missing. She laid her head on his chest but she couldn’t hear any heartbeat. Gently, she lifted one of his eyelids. To her amazement there was a dim light in his pupil. He opened his mouth. Dear God, he was alive!
‘I’m here, Mr Baker … Pat. It’s Maxine, the nurse you met. Don’t speak. You’ve been injured, but you’re going to be all right. I’m getting help.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth and she grabbed her handkerchief to dab it. He looked up at her, but she could tell his eyes weren’t focusing.
‘Pat—’
He opened his mouth, then gave a terrible gurgling noise, and as if in slow motion his head gently flopped to the side.
She swallowed her tears. She didn’t know him. She and June had only spent half an hour with him at most. He’d bravely admitted he was a conscientious objector even though by telling them he was risking being denied the job at Dr Barnardo’s. Maxine – and she knew June too – had been quite shocked. She’d once heard one of her mother’s neighbours say that men who didn’t go and fight for their country were cowards. ‘Conchies,’ the woman had called them, her lips tightening into a contemptuous line. She shivered as much with distaste at the memory as with the cold, which she was only just now aware of, seeping into every part of her body as she gently kissed the young man’s cheek. It was only because he’d protected Betsy with his body that the little girl had been saved. Pat Baker wasn’t a coward at all. He was a war hero. But the sad thing was that he’d never know it.
Chapter Thirty
Maxine sat on the cold, damp grass holding Betsy, who was sobbing and clinging to her. She had to get the child into the house before they both caught pneumonia, but she couldn’t leave Beth and Lenny and Mr Baker out here. She looked around. All was silent. June and the teachers must have ushered the children into the shelters without realising there’d been such a disaster. She gulped. If only poor Mr Baker hadn’t dashed off in the wrong direction he and Lenny and Beth would still be alive.
She heard the sound of bicycle tyres on the drive. Maxine pulled Betsy closer as she watched a man in a blue coat and white helmet jump off and lean the bike on one of the elm trees before he half ran towards her, the bag on his shoulder swinging.
‘Are you all right, Miss?’
To her surprise and relief she saw it was Mr Jenner from the village post office.
‘Yes, I’m all right. I didn’t expect to see you though.’ She peered closer at his armband and badge.
‘It’s my first week. Since Jerry dropped his bombs over here last year on his way back to Germany, the powers that be decided Bingham should have their own ARP warden in the post office to man the telephone for any alerts. So here I am.’
‘Oh, thank goodness.’ She could hardly speak for the lump in her throat, but it was such a relief that Mr Jenner stood in front of her; a man who’d fought in the last war yet always had a cheerful word with her when she posted her letters. He would understand more than most.
‘Here, let me take the child.’ He held out his arms, but Betsy let out a piercing scream and buried her nose in Maxine’s neck.
‘I’ll take her in,’ Maxine said. ‘She’s in shock. But I’d appreciate it if you could help with the others. They’re all d-d-dead.’ Her teeth rattled as she tried to get the word out, the tears gathering behind her eyelids.
‘Don’t you take on,’ the warden said, bending down to extricate Beth’s hand from her brother’s. Maxine was grateful to see how gentle he was as he lifted up the child. ‘You go on back to the house with that little one. I’ll bring them in – poor kids,’ he added, his eyes moist. ‘Don’t seem right – innocent children getting involved in men’s affairs.’ He nodded his head towards Mr Baker. ‘Has he gone too, Miss?’
‘Yes.’
‘He one of the teachers?’
She swallowed. ‘No. He was a nurse, just come for an interview to work here.’ She looked up at him, no longer able to hold back the tears. ‘He was very brave. He would have been a wonderful nurse.’
Mr Jenner had been marvellous. With the help of Charlie, the two men carried Mr Baker back to the house and placed him in the chapel on a mattress by the side of Beth and Lenny. Mr Jenner had linked the children’s hands together again, and that small gesture made Maxine rush out of the chapel door to break down in tears once more.
‘We’re making hot drinks for everyone,’ Bertie announced as Maxine entered the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you get the children into the dining room and we’ll bring out the trays.’
‘Let me help,’ Maxine said, needing to do something practical to take her mind off the horror she’d witnessed.
‘No, hen. You’re more help seeing to the children. I’ve got the maids and the laundry girls rallying.’ She gave Maxine a stern look. ‘You need to get those damp clothes off and into something warm or you’ll go down with something yourself.’
When everyone had had a drink and biscuits, June stood up at the end of her table and banged a spoon against her glass for the chattering to stop.
‘I have sad news to tell you that Lenny and Beth died from the bomb which dropped just now.’
‘Have they gone to heaven, Miss?’ Jack called out.
‘Yes, Jack, they have.’
‘He was a nurse. He was coming here to work.’
‘Oh.’ He immediately dismissed the stranger and said, ‘Where’s Betsy. Is she dead?’
‘No,’ June said. ‘The man, Mr Baker, saved her life. He was very brave. She’s having a rest in the ward. Nurse Kathleen is looking after her.’
The children fired more questions and some of the younger ones started to cry. One little boy sobbed. ‘I want me mam.’
‘Your mam’s in heaven, love. She sent you here to be safe with us,’ Maxine said.
‘But we’re not safe,’ Thomas shouted. ‘Else Beth and Lenny wouldn’t-a been killed.’
‘Killed by a horrible German in his horrible aeroplane! Same as Peter here!’ Hilda shot to her feet and pointed to him. ‘His father is a Nazi who wants to kill us all!’
There was a deathly silence. All eyes turned to Peter, who was staring ahead, his mouth hard, not looking at anyone.
‘You will come to my office immediately, Hilda.’ June’s voice was controlled, but Maxine sitting next to her could tell by the hissing breath she drew into her nostrils that she was furious. As June leapt to her feet, she said in an undertone, ‘Please take over, Maxine.’
Hilda sulkily scraped back her chair and followed the matron out. Everyone had turned their attention from Peter to Maxine, and for a moment she didn’t know quite what to say. Then she gathered her thoughts and stood up, but thirteen-year-old Alan beat her to it.
‘He says “Ja” all the time. That’s German, isn’t it, so I wondered whether—’
‘You will keep your thoughts to yourself, Alan,’ Maxine snapped. Alan looked at her in surprise. ‘Peter’s father sent him and his English mother over here because Peter’s grandmother was ill.’ She stole a glance at Peter, whose blue eyes had turned on her as though beseeching her.
‘His dad must’ve known we’re being bombed all the time,’ Bobby said. ‘And now we know Peter’s from a Nazi family he’s as bad as—’
‘Be quiet, Bobby,’ Maxine cut in. ‘No more of that talk here.’
Barbara got up and looked round at everyone. ‘It’s a difficult time,’ she said, ‘and today is a very sad one. We’ve lost two of our precious children. But we’re going to try to think of nicer things.’ She shot a look of apology at Maxine, who gave a smile of gratitude. ‘We’re going to start preparing for Christmas early. We’ve got lots of decorations to make, and Christmas cards for our friends, so I’d like to see as many of you as possible in the art room. We’ll start in ten minutes.’
Maxine dismissed them and they went off muttering, completely ignoring Peter, but Barbara turned to him.
‘Peter, I’d be pleased if you’d join us in the art room.’
He gave her a cold stare and then his face crumpled and he raced out of the Great Hall.
‘Probably best if we leave him alone for a while,’ Barbara said. ‘This must be so difficult for him.’ She looked at Maxine. ‘Do you think there’s any truth in what Hilda said?’
Maxine felt her neck grow warm. But she kept her voice neutral as she answered, ‘I very much doubt it. Why would a Nazi send his child to England? They were bent on invading us not that long ago and might still be planning to, for all we know. And how could a Nazi justify such an action to his superiors?’
She desperately hoped she’d put Barbara off the trail. So far, only her and June knew. Oh, and Crofton, of course. Her heart beat fast at the thought. He would never tell a soul – she could stake her life on it.
Half an hour later a weeping Hilda roughly pushed past Maxine on the stairs as she was going up to her room, desperately in need of some quiet to take in the tragic events of the day.
‘It’s all your fault,’ the girl choked as her rage hit Maxine with full force. ‘We were doing all right till you came along and spoilt things.’
‘I’m sorry you feel like that, Hilda.’ This minute she didn’t have the strength for any confrontation.
‘Sorry? You’re sorry?’ The girl turned and spat at Maxine, who leaned back on the banister in surprise. ‘Sorry you’ve lost me my job? Sorry you’ve cut me off from my family? Sorry—’
‘That’s quite enough, Hilda.’ Maxine unhurriedly brought out a handkerchief from her overall and pointedly wiped the saliva off her face. ‘Yes, I’m sorry if you’ve lost your job, but I’m not the cause of it. We’ve put up with you and your uncalled-for comments far too long. And you’ve been extremely cruel to an innocent child.’ Maxine swept up the stairs, seething at the girl’s cheek.
‘That German tike? Innocent?’ Hilda’s voice followed her up the stairs. ‘He ought to be shot!’
If she’d had a shred of pity for Hilda, Maxine thought, the girl’s last remark obliterated it. Wearily, she mounted the stairs, wishing she wasn’t on night duty. But she mustn’t moan. She was so lucky. She was warm, comfortable, well fed considering there was a war on, and she thought – hoped – that someone out there cared for her. Someone with a crooked smile to make her pulse race. Someone who she loved but could never let him know. Because if she did, she’d lose him forever.
The room was cold and she shivered but didn’t bother to put on a warm cardigan. Instead, she sat on the bed and eagerly opened the latest letter from Pearl.
14th November 1942
Dear Max,
You’ll be pleased to know I’m out of hospital and doing well. It’s difficult to get around as I’m still on crutches, and the stairs take me an age to climb, but every day I feel stronger.
I know you must be very busy with all the kids at the orphanage. But come and see me again as soon as you can.
Mam and Dad actually came to visit me in the flat. They always said they would never step foot in this part of town. But when I was in hospital I think they realised they’d missed me more than they’d imagined. Seems the accident has had one positive outcome at least! They wanted me to go home with them so Mam could look after me, but I prefer to be independent. You know how I am!
Your cousin Pearl,
XX
Maxine smiled at Pearl’s declaration. It was good to hear her mother and father had been to see her. Maybe that rift would now begin to heal. It was strange that Pearl hadn’t mentioned Edwin. She wondered if her cousin had said anything to him, and hoped not, after all. It was a mistake to have told Pearl the whole episode and it would probably have died a natural death. When she’d thought about it, she realised Pearl was pretty cool-headed. She would have seen through Edwin sooner or later and finished with him. But through Maxine’s own stupidity for blabbing, Edwin might well cause trouble, not only for her but for Pearl as well.
She’d go and see Pearl at the first opportunity.
Pearl beamed when she opened the door.
‘Max, how wonderful. Come on in. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Maxine kissed her and set her basket of vegetables and the little piece of stewing steak she’d managed to buy from the butcher’s on the draining board. ‘Let me make the tea. It must be awkward for you, still on crutches.’
‘I’m used to them now.’ Pearl grinned and waved her inside with one of the sticks.
‘How are you managing with food and everything?’ Maxine asked as she went inside, feeling strange all of a sudden that this used to be her home.
‘The neighbours are really kind,’ Pearl said. ‘They do my shopping and Mrs Burge downstairs cooks me a meal most days, and when she can’t,’ Pearl chuckled, ‘I can always have fish and chips.’
‘How long will you have to be on crutches?’
‘At least another fortnight. But I’m managing with a walking stick most of the time.’
Maxine quickly busied herself in the kitchen and soon the two young women were drinking tea in Pearl’s small living room.
‘How are all the kids?’ Pearl asked.
‘A terrible thing happened last week.’ Maxine gulped. ‘A German pilot bombed us on his way back to Germany. We
lost two little children, five and eight – brother and sister. Their funeral was yesterday in the chapel. It was so dreadfully sad, especially for some of the younger ones when it finally struck them that Lenny and Beth wouldn’t be coming back. There were a lot of tears, but it was a beautiful service.’
Pearl’s eyes filled. ‘How awful. Oh, Max, I’m so sorry. This bloody war, excuse my French. But everyone else was all right?’
‘Yes, except for poor Mr Baker – a young man who’d come for a job as a nurse. He rushed out, taking those two children with him … and little Betsy.’ She briefly told her cousin how he’d saved Betsy.
‘One minute you’re all right, the next you’re blown to kingdom come,’ Pearl said soberly. ‘Dear oh dear. I’m so sorry.’
‘It was dreadful,’ Maxine said, running her hand through her hair. ‘The children are still not completely over it. It’s the first time a child has died at the home since the war started.’
‘Let’s talk about something more cheerful,’ Pearl said, taking several gulps of tea. ‘And before you ask, I’d better put you out of your misery and tell you what happened.’ She gave a sly smile.
Maxine braced herself. She knew her cousin wouldn’t have minced her words. But she wasn’t prepared for Pearl’s account.
‘I was nice as pie next time he came round,’ Pearl said, ‘just in case he’d spotted you last time and put two and two together. In fact, I let everything go on normally for the next few days. Then one day he came to my bed and swished the curtains round us. I was sitting up waiting for him. He bent over and kissed me and I kissed him back.’ She threw an apologetic smile at Maxine. ‘Awful to say it, Max, but he was a damned good kisser.’
It was true and Maxine’s face flushed at the memory of his passion. He’d been exactly the same with Pearl. It was so humiliating. But if she’d saved her cousin from similar heartbreak she was glad.
‘Anyway,’ Pearl continued, ‘he unbuttoned my pyjama top and put his hand on my breast and began to stroke it. This was nothing unusual but this time he had a terrible shock. I screamed blue murder. The look on his face was priceless. I wish I’d had a camera. He put his hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Sister came flying in like a bat out of hell and tore back the curtains. And there was my breast for all to see.