by Maureen Lee
‘I’d better be getting home,’ said Jessica. ‘Penny must be tired.’ Penny didn’t look the least bit tired. She appeared to be trying to walk up Jack’s chest. ‘Oh, I mustn’t forget the teapot, Sheila, and I’d still like to borrow a bit of milk if you’ve got some to spare, so’s I can have a cup of tea first thing in the morning. I’ll register with the milkman tomorrow.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’ll take them first and come back for Penny.’
‘That’s all right, luv. Me dad’ll take Penny. You take the other things.’
Jessica had left the gas light on low in the living room, and the fire was burning cheerfully in the grate.
‘Don’t put her on the floor,’ she said to Jack when he came in carrying Penny. ‘There’s no fireguard. I’ll take her upstairs with me and assemble the cot.’
‘I’ll do the cot for you, it’s no job for a woman,’ he mumbled. ‘Where is it?’
Jessica felt amused. Her father had taught her how to strip a lorry’s engine and put it back together. She’d been his chief mechanic when there’d only been the two of them trying to get the haulage business off the ground. She could have assembled the cot in a jiffy. Nevertheless, she replied, ‘It’s in the front bedroom. I thought I’d have her in with me till she gets used to things. It might all seem a bit strange at first.’ Penny was used to her own white painted nursery with teddy bear transfers on the walls.
Jack put the little girl in Jessica’s arms without a word and tramped upstairs. Jessica took her into the back kitchen, sat her on the draining board, and washed her face and hands and cleaned her teeth. ‘You can have a bath in the morning, a different bath than usual, in front of the fire.’
Penny waved her arms in delight, as if she understood every word and looked forward to the treat. ‘And Mummy will give you a nice drink of milk in a minute.’
She breastfed her daughter at least once a day, unwilling to give up the last real physical link between mother and child. There was still a sense of wonderment when she saw Penny’s rosy lips sucking greedily at her white breast that she’d actually become a mother after all those barren years – and it hadn’t been her fault, after all.
There was a shout from upstairs. ‘It’s done.’
‘Is this where you want it?’ Jack asked when Jessica entered the bedroom carrying Penny. He’d erected it on the far side of the bed, against the wall. ‘It’d have stopped you opening the wardrobe if I’d put it on the other side.’
‘That’s fine.’
The big double bed, with its tumble of blankets and sheets and the green satin eiderdown thrown carelessly on waiting to be made, seemed to loom significantly between them. Jessica wondered if it reminded him, as it reminded her, of that night, the night, when both of them had seemed to reach a higher plane, a sort of seventh heaven, full of delights and delicious feelings she wasn’t aware existed. It had been good with Arthur, but she’d never thought it possible it could be as good as it was with Jack. And to think all that tenderness and passion was hidden behind his gruff, taciturn exterior, and she, Jessica Fleming, was the only one who knew it was there!
‘When did you say Arthur was coming?’ he asked suddenly.
He’d been good friends with her husband, and he was an honourable man, Jack Doyle, as straight as a die, a man who under normal circumstances would regard sleeping with another man’s wife, let alone the wife of a friend, as little short of traitorous. But the minute he’d walked into the room across the road, events had gone completely out of control. Neither could help themselves.
‘I didn’t say he was coming. I just said he might.’
‘That was a good job he got. It’d be a shame if he gave it up.’
‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag Arthur away from the museum.’
Jack looked puzzled. ‘But …’ he began.
‘I’ve left him,’ said Jessica. There! She’d put it into words. She and Arthur had been fencing around each other rather cautiously for days. There’d been no mention of Jessica leaving permanently, not even of a proper separation; they’d behaved as if she were merely going away for a while, though both had known in their hearts she was going for good.
‘I hated it there,’ she said spiritedly. ‘I missed Liverpool. I couldn’t wait to get back.’
‘A woman’s place is beside her husband,’ Jack growled. ‘Y’should have stayed whether you liked it or not.’
Jessica stared at him angrily, and at the same time tried to discern from his expression if he was pleased she was back within his reach, but he looked sternly censorious.
‘You could say a man’s place is beside his wife,’ she said. She wasn’t going to take lectures on where her place should be from anyone. ‘I asked Arthur to come with me, but he preferred to stay.’ She tossed her head. ‘Anyway, it’s none of your business.’
‘You’re right, it’s not.’ He came towards the door where she was standing. ‘I’d better be going. I’m on firewatching duty at midnight.’
He touched Penny’s cheek briefly as he pushed past. ‘She’s a bonny little girl,’ he said, smiling briefly.
Jessica was conscious of his muscular arm brushing against hers. She almost wished Penny wasn’t there so she could grab Jack and pull him back towards the bed. But Penny was there, waving bye-byes as Jack made his departure.
There was no moon and it was pitch dark, blacker than she’d ever known it.
Kitty Quigley felt her way along the walls of the houses in Opal Street and nearly fell over when the wall ended and she realised she’d reached Garnet Street. She began to panic. It was like walking through thick black soup. She’d never get to and from the newsagent’s in time to catch the twenty to six bus at this rate, and if she was late on her first day, she’d die. She imagined the hospital telephoning Miss Ellis to complain.
‘Oh, God!’ she moaned as she kicked over a milk bottle and spent several precious minutes searching for it, without success.
Brisk footsteps sounded in the otherwise totally silent world, but Kitty had no way of knowing whether the steps were coming or going or which side of the street they were on. She screamed when she bumped into a figure so solidly built that she almost bounced off.
‘Who’s that?’ the figure demanded.
‘It’s Kitty Quigley from Pearl Street. Who’s that?’
‘Vera Dodds, the postwoman. I’m just on me way to the sorting office. What on earth are you doing, Kitty, wandering round at this time of the morning?’
‘I’m going to Ernie Robinson’s for the Daily Herald for me dad. He wants to read it while I’m at work,’ Kitty explained to the dark, as Vera was invisible, adding proudly, ‘I’m starting at the Royal Navy Hospital, Seaforth, this morning as an auxiliary nurse.’
‘Aye, so I heard. Well, you’re on a fruitless journey at the moment, girl. Ernie doesn’t open till six o’clock.’
‘Damn!’ muttered Kitty, cursing her stupidity for not finding out before, though she felt slightly relieved. It meant she could return home and have a bite of breakfast. ‘Me dad’ll be dead disappointed when he finds he hasn’t got a paper.’
‘I’ll get your dad his Daily Herald if you like,’ Vera offered. ‘I’ll pop it through the letterbox when I’m doing me round.’
‘Thanks all the same, Vera, but he’ll be in bed and he can’t manage the stairs on his own.’
‘In that case, I’ll take it up. Don’t worry about your dad, luv. I’ll see to him.’
Kitty had a feeling her dad mightn’t be too pleased if Vera Dodds suddenly appeared in the bedroom, but she found it awfully hard to turn down people’s kind offers of help and risk hurting their feelings.
She didn’t mention Vera when she got home, just as she hadn’t mentioned all the other people who had promised to see to him whilst she was at work. She merely apologised for the lack of a paper, made herself a piece of toast and left him propped up against the pillow looking hard done by.
‘I hope I don’t get one of me dizzy spells while you’re
gone.’ The dizzy spells had returned in full force over the last few days.
‘Well, at least you’re safe lying down, Dad,’ Kitty said comfortably.
It was slightly lighter by the time she left for the bus; not much, but enough to see by as she made her way towards Rimrose Road. It was lighter still when she got off at the hospital.
Seafield House was a lonely place, fronting Seaforth Sands and reached from the road through an iron gate and along a tree-lined path. A massive five-storey grey brick building with narrow windows, some with iron bars, it had square solid turrets at either end and rows of unnaturally tall chimneys protruding like fingers into the lightening sky. Before only recently becoming a naval hospital, it had belonged to the Lancashire Asylums Board, and had a sinister, forbidding air. No-one had ever been seen going in or coming out, and people were unsure whether the place was occupied or not. Kitty felt very small as she trailed behind a handful of people who’d got off the bus at the same time towards the arched double doors, one of which was wide open.
The others had disappeared by the time Kitty entered the door herself, and she found herself in a dismal reception area two floors high with a black and grey tiled floor and walls painted a colour she couldn’t put a name to, a mixture of putty and green, which she later discovered was referred to as ‘eau de sick’. Although everywhere was very quiet and the only person in sight was a tired-looking young woman in a white shirt and navy-blue tie who was sitting behind a desk, nevertheless the building had an air of occupancy, and Kitty was conscious of the fact that there were perhaps hundreds of people there. At that moment, two nurses came hurrying in and ran quickly up the stairs, their dark cloaks flowing, and she wondered if she would be given a cloak to wear.
The young woman smiled as Kitty approached. ‘Can I help you, love?’
‘I’m looking for Staff Nurse Bellamy.’
‘She’s in the basement, that’s through the door in the corner over there. Turn right when you reach the bottom of the stairs and you’ll find her office at the far end of the corridor.’
‘Ta.’
The basement was dimly lit by low-powered electric bulbs. Bottle-green iron doors, all firmly shut, lined the narrow corridor. The final door was open, and in a windowless room more like a prison cell than an office, a frowning nurse wearing a white lawn veil on the back of her head and a pale grey dress which had a little scarlet-trimmed shoulder cape was bending over a desk containing a large chart on which she was writing.
‘Staff Nurse Bellamy?’
The woman looked up, frowning even more deeply. She looked more like a farmer’s wife than a nurse, with a shiny face, red apple cheeks and a little round chin, which all contrasted rather oddly with her cool, regal dress. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded in a loud voice.
‘Kitty Quigley. I’m the new auxiliary nurse.’
‘That’s right, so you are. Well, if you’d like to go in the room next door and find yourself a uniform, I’ll put you to work.’
Kitty struggled for ages with the handle of the door trying to get it open, until an impatient voice shouted, ‘You turn the handle up, not down.’
Once inside the dark room, Kitty groped the walls but was unable to find the light switch. She was close to despair – Nurse Bellamy would think her dead stupid – when something knocked against her forehead, a cord with a knob on the end. She pulled the knob with a trembling hand, praying it wouldn’t bring something down on top of her, and the light came on.
There were uniforms, stacks of them in several different colours on the shelves lining the room. Kitty sorted through a heap of well-starched pale grey frocks until she found one that looked about her size. She hung her coat behind the door, removed her own frock and was buttoning up the grey uniform when an amused voice said, ‘You’re only supposed to collect your uniform here, not change into it. And if Staff sees you in that get-up she’ll bust a gut.’
A woman of about fifty was standing in the doorway. She was thin to the point of emaciation, with a deeply lined humorous face. Her brown eyes danced with amusement behind her rimless glasses.
‘I thought I was supposed to wear one the same as hers,’ Kitty stammered.
The woman laughed. ‘Did you now! Here five minutes and you’re already a State Registered Nurse. No, dear, it’s green and white stripes for the likes of you. They’re over there.’ She nodded towards a shelf behind Kitty. ‘The aprons are on the shelf below, along with the caps. Mind you, it wouldn’t have hurt Staff to let you know what you were supposed to wear. She seems to expect everyone to read her mind, then blows her top if we read it wrongly. That said, Bellamy’s okay deep down at heart. Her bark’s ten times worse than her bite.’ She smiled briskly. ‘Here, give me that dress and I’ll fold it whilst you put your own clothes back on. After you’ve collected your serf’s uniform, I’ll show you where to change.’
‘Me serf’s uniform?’
‘You’ll feel like a serf after you’ve been here a while. This hospital is run on a strictly hierarchical system. Right at the top there’s God and the Apostles, in other words, the Chief Medical Officer and his various assistants. Then there’s Red Cross nurses, Queen Alexandra nurses, plain ordinary nurses, SBAs, non-medical staff – mainly Wrens. Right at the very bottom of the shitheap, there’s us, the auxiliaries.’
It was only then Kitty noticed the woman was wearing a green and white striped coarse cotton dress, a long white apron and a white cap consisting of a stiff band with a soft gathered crown over her short, greying-brown hair. She looked quite good-tempered whilst she spoke, as if she wasn’t particularly bothered at being regarded as a serf.
‘I’m Harriet, by the way. Harriet Mansell, spinster of this parish. You’re Kathleen Quigley, so I’m told.’
‘Everyone calls me Kitty.’
‘Mansell, Quigley,’ a voice bellowed. ‘What’s going on in there?’
‘Quigley’s just finding a uniform to fit, Staff,’ the woman called back.
‘This is a hospital, not a mannequin parade.’
‘Coming, Staff.’ Harriet Mansell turned to Kitty, who was putting her coat back on. ‘Ready?’
Kitty nodded and was about to leave, when Harriet said, grinning broadly, ‘You’ve forgotten your uniform, which was the whole point of this rather elaborate and useless exercise!’
Nurse Bellamy was still studying her chart when they went in. ‘Has Peterson turned up yet?’ she enquired without looking up.
‘I think I saw her upstairs, Staff,’ Harriet Mansell replied.
‘Really?’ the Staff Nurse said sarcastically. ‘In that case, she’s forgotten to report in.’
‘I’ll remind her when I see her.’
‘You do that, Mansell. Well, you know where to start; the corridors, the sluice room, then the wards. Show Quigley here what to do. She’s taken over from Caldicott.’
‘Rightio, Staff. I’ll keep an eye on her. Come on, Kitty.’
Once they were outside in the corridor, the older woman said, ‘We’ll collect the buckets now, rather than come all the way down again when you’ve changed.’ She led Kitty back along the corridor to a room where there was a large brown earthenware sink at floor level. Two women were already there, each filling a metal pail with water.
‘Morning, ladies,’ Harriet said cheerfully.
‘Morning,’ one replied. The other looked half asleep and didn’t answer. As soon as the pails were nearly full of soapy water, they each collected a mop and shuffled out, yawning.
Harriet put three pails in the sink and sprinkled suds in each. ‘I’ll take two buckets with me, one for Lucy. She’s late again. Staff’s already noticed she’s not here. Poor Lucy has a terrible job getting out in the mornings. Find three decent mops, there’s a good girl. Some are so badly worn they’re useless.’
Kitty sorted through a row of mops which were standing upside down against the wall and selected the best three. Although she said nothing, she felt more than a little dismayed at the idea she
was expected to do cleaning. She’d thought she’d be tending to sick and injured sailors by now, though in what way, she wasn’t quite sure.
They struggled up two flights of stairs. Water sloshed over the top of Kitty’s bucket, soaking her leg, so she changed the bucket to her other hand and nearly dropped her cap in. She glanced surreptitiously at her companion to see if she’d noticed, but Harriet was slightly ahead and unaware of the fact the new auxiliary couldn’t even carry a bucket of water without spilling it. When they reached the first floor, Harriet stopped outside a door.
‘This is the auxiliaries’ rest room. Change your clothes and I’ll start on the floors.’
‘You’re not going far, are you?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be right here.’
The rest room was scarcely bigger than a cupboard, a miserable place with a small table underneath the tiny barred window and wooden chairs pushed against the walls. There were several bags on the chairs and a pile of coats hung behind the door.
Kitty quickly got changed, wishing there was a mirror so she could see what she looked like in the green and white striped dress and apron. Although she pulled her cap down as far as it would go, it sprang off her wild curly hair immediately she let go. She hung up her coat, rolled her clothes into a ball and left them with her bag on a chair, then went out to find Harriet, who was cleaning the floor outside and hooted when she appeared.
‘That cap looks like a pimple on an elephant’s arse! You’ll never get it to stay on without a hairclip. Have you got one with you?’
Kitty shook her head numbly. She’d scarcely been there a quarter of an hour and so far had done everything wrong. She squirmed with embarrassment, imagining Staff’s reaction if she’d turned up in the wrong uniform. Merely thinking about it seemed to sap every bit of confidence she might have had.
‘I’ll lend you one of mine, but I’d like it back, please. Hairclips are like gold dust these days.’ Harriet removed one of the clips from her cap. ‘We serfs must stick together, eh? On no account must we let the bastards get us down.’