Peggy would never have guessed that it was Tommy and his unquenchable lust that stood between her and the welfare man knocking on her door.
Now in possession of a full sugar bowl, if not quite as full as she would have liked, Peggy shuffled across to the chair opposite Tommy and without being asked collapsed into it. ‘Is the kettle on, Maura?’ she said as she took the tobacco tin from her apron pocket.
‘Is it ever not?’ replied Maura tartly and she pushed the kettle back along the range and on to the hot plate.
Peggy, thick-skinned and not the brightest button in the box, failed to notice the dig.
Maura had been busy. She was a woman of routine and if there was one thing she could not bear, it was her routine being disturbed. Managing a family on a docker’s wage took time and skill and Maura knew that Peggy, having no routine of her own, would quite often just copy her. If she saw Maura take her nets down, Peggy would do the same. If Maura’s sheets were on the line, Peggy’s would follow an hour later. It was one way Maura could sometimes get Peggy out of her house, and she wanted her out right now. It was worth a try at least. ‘I’m going to start on my ironing in a minute, Peggy,’ she said, shooting her a meaningful look. ‘You done yours yet?’
But Peggy ignored the question. ‘What’s the news of Angela?’ she asked. ‘Big Paddy said he saw you both coming out of the pub and you weren’t in long enough to have had a drink, Tommy.’
‘We used the phone,’ said Tommy, quite used to his neighbours discussing his every movement. ‘They said she’s doing well. Responding to the medication and we will see a great improvement when we visit.’ He spoke with authority, as though he himself were the doctor imparting the news.
Maura grinned. Peggy was irritating, for sure, but hearing once more how well Angela was doing was music to her ears. They knew of too many children who’d died on the dockside streets. The war might be long over and Hitler himself defeated, but the new housing that was supposed to be coming had yet to arrive. There were no complaints – their homes had survived where many others hadn’t. The Dohertys along with lots of others were still grateful for the grace of God.
Peggy rolled a cigarette. ‘Did ye have a winner today, Tommy?’ she asked.
Tommy pushed the pencil behind his ear and folded the paper on to his lap. ‘I did not. I’m mighty disappointed about that, Peggy. Did Paddy have a flutter?’
Peggy snorted. ‘He did not. We haven’t two ha’pennies left until payday. I don’t know what we’re to do for dinner tomorrow.’
Maura bit her tongue. She felt like she was about to explode. This news equated to fair warning that Peggy’s kids would be round for their tea when they found none on their own table, but Peggy, she would still have tobacco in her tin.
Peggy failed to notice the set of Maura’s jaw and prattled on. ‘I hear Helen’s daughter is to be up at St Angelus to have her baby. They’re saying when the mother is under eighteen they want their babies born in a hospital now, ’cause of the NHS. They have to be fecking joking. That’d be about half of them around here. You wouldn’t catch me doing that.’
‘Me neither,’ said Maura as she handed Peggy her tea. ‘But ’tis a long time since either of us were eighteen, Peggy. They tell me Helen’s daughter’s having twins.’ Maura blessed herself. ‘I know what that’s like and I’d be wanting them at home meself. Just to be safe.’
She briefly recalled the image of her trying to cope with her twin baby boys as well as running the house, dealing with Angela, who was a crier and still a baby at the time, and looking after their Kitty, too young yet to help, made her blood run cold just with the memory of it.
‘Imagine that,’ said Peggy, omitting to say thanks as she took the cup of tea. ‘Another set of twins on the streets. They’re not like you in that house though, Maura. Filthy, it is. Helen hung her stockings on the line the other day to air the smell out and they were so dirty, they took themselves down and walked off with the shame. Anyway, I hope her girl copes with the twins better than you did. Yours were a right handful.’
Maura was carrying Tommy’s tea over and almost tripped up in surprise. ‘A right handful? Was that what you said, Peggy? Well, I’m not sure what you mean by that?’ Her eyes blazed as she handed Tommy his cuppa.
‘Did you see Sister Tapps when you was up the hospital?’ Peggy asked. ‘She looked after our little Paddy when he had his appendix out. He still talks about her. It was weeks before he stopped saying Sister Tapps lets me have this and that. Jesus, I nearly took him back. Drove me mad, he did. I think he preferred it in hospital to home.’
‘Who wouldn’t, Peggy?’ said Maura. ‘He would have got his food regular and not had to come asking for it some nights in the kitchens of others.’
Peggy inhaled the last of her cigarette and threw the stub into the fire. ‘Aye, you’re probably right,’ she said, clearly having taken no offence at Maura’s gibe. ‘Kitty was under Sister Tapps too, wasn’t she?’ She squinted through the cigarette smoke that still hovered around her face and stung her eyes.
‘Funnily enough,’ said Maura, who was back by the range and pouring her own tea, ‘she was. She has never forgotten Sister Tapps either. Often mentions her. She wanted to go and see her when we were waiting to go in with our Angela, and then, blow me down, wasn’t the woman only coming along the path when we went back outside. Couldn’t stop Kitty, ran straight for her, she did, and Sister Tapps remembered her! You know, Peggy, the only reason I can make you this tea right now without me hands shaking is because I know our Angela is being looked after by Sister Tapps, and Kitty tells me that the woman is an angel wearing a blue dress.’
‘Well, I never. You saw her!’ Peggy smiled.
‘We all did and she had a lovely chat with Kitty. Until some fearsome ward sister called Sister Antrobus stopped her. She was your one from outpatients.’
Peggy had finished her tea and was now standing up, ready to leave. She picked up her sugar bowl from the floor.
‘She scared the shite out of me, that one,’ said Tommy. ‘I told Maura, if she has to go back to the outpatients when our Angela comes home, she can take you with her, Peggy. I’m not squaring up to that one again. She was bigger than our outside lavvy and twice as hard. Shaking half to death we was. She scared our Kitty too.’
‘Really?’ said Peggy, her hand on the back-door latch. ‘Well, there’s a surprise she scared you, and you being married to your Maura for all of this time. She must have been a right scold, that sister. Not sure I’ll be going. Wouldn’t want to meet her meself if she’s worse than Maura.’ And before either Tommy or Maura could reply, the back door had clicked shut.
‘You’re welcome, Peggy. Any time you need a cup of sugar from me rations, come right on in,’ said Maura and both she and Tommy dissolved into giggles.
*
Emily had laid the table with a tablecloth and a candle in the middle. She had made a shepherd’s pie, Dessie’s favourite, and before he came home she ran into the bedroom to apply her make-up.
‘What’s all this in aid of?’ he asked as he walked through the door, puffing slightly from the weight of her suitcase he’d brought back from the hospital.
Emily barely let him finish his sentence before she threw her arms around his neck. ‘Dessie, I want to talk.’
‘Do we have to?’ he asked as he nuzzled at her neck.
‘We do,’ she said. ‘It’s about baby Louis.’
Dessie’s head shot up, his expression grave. ‘What about him? He’s OK, isn’t he? I thought he was doing well, or so Jake told me.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Emily was pulling the sleeves of Dessie’s donkey jacket down over his arms to remove it. She hung it on the back of the kitchen door.
‘Is that shepherd’s pie I can smell?’ Dessie put his nose in the air.
‘Yes, and look, I went to the pub all by myself and got your tankard full of beer to have with the food.’
‘Oh, Emily, it doesn’t taste the same at home, but
thank you anyway. Now…’ He pulled his sweater up and over his head, making his hair stand on end. ‘What’s all this about? I’m not complaining, mind, but I know you, Emily, you are up to something.’
Just for good measure, Emily pulled him to her and kissed him in a way that promised much more to come. But first there was a serious conversation they needed to have.
15
The sky above the Lovely Lane nurses’ home was heavy with black clouds and daylight had yet to break through. The morning promised to be bleak and cold, but that didn’t bother Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying bacon, sausages and blackened eggs with a side of fried bread. Scamp’s head rested on the toe of his boot as the nurses piled in for their own breakfasts.
‘As soon as I’ve cleared up, we will be off to the Tanners’ house to collect the decorations. And from there you’ll be taking Maisie, the decorations, and me of course, up to the children’s ward.’
‘Right you are, Mrs Duffy,’ said Jake and he took a huge bite of the crispy fried bread, made with the leftover fat from the sausages and bacon.
Mrs Duffy threw a tea towel across the table towards him. ‘Jake, you’re dribbling. Wipe your chin.’ Without waiting for a reply, she continued, ‘And at the ward we will meet Nurse Tanner and Nurse Harper, along with the other nurses, to begin the decorating. There’s a competition to be won, so we can’t be messing about. If we don’t get a move on, it will be Twelfth Night before we know it and it’ll be time to take them all back down again.’
‘I’m ready for anything after this, Mrs Duffy,’ said Jake, spearing the last sausage with his fork.
Beth had been standing in the kitchen drinking her tea and waiting for Pammy, as usual. Any minute now she’d run down the stairs, exclaim that she didn’t know where the time had gone, grab a piece of toast, drink a whole mug of tea in about thirty seconds flat, put her cap on in the mirror over the fireplace, and fly out of the door.
Sure enough, before Beth could reply to Mrs Duffy about the decorations, Pammy hurtled into the room.
‘I think it’s going to snow, you know,’ she said, without so much as a good morning to either of them. ‘Have you seen the frost out there? Freezing, it is, and it’s so dark, it could still be night. I could scrape my name into the ice on the window.’
‘Oh, I really hope it doesn’t snow,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘I know everyone thinks it would be nice for Christmas, but you know what happens, the buses stop running and then none of the patients can have any visitors. Terrible way to be, that is. Imagine being sick in hospital at Christmas and having no one from home to come in and spend some of it with you.’
Pammy looked guilty. ‘OK, I’m sorry. I really hope it doesn’t snow then. I’m so excited that you are coming to the ward today, Mrs D. Wait until you see baby Louis! Oh, he will steal your heart, he will. Has me wrapped right around his little finger.’
Beth straightened up from leaning against the worktop and walked over to the sink to rinse her mug. ‘So much so, Mrs Duffy, that during morning report, when Sister Paige asks for a volunteer to special him, she’s the first nurse to put her hand up and say, “I will.” Aren’t you, Nurse Tanner?’
‘Well, I don’t mind,’ said Pammy turning to Beth, a bunch of kirby grips clasped between her fingers. ‘Anthony says I should think myself very lucky to be nursing a little boy as unique as Louis. You don’t get the likes of him in through the casualty doors very often. Do you know he’s gaining weight every single day. I can’t wait to weigh him each morning, and he’s learning to smile. God, you would not believe how he stares at your mouth when you talk to him and he looks straight into your eyes. Studies you, he does. Anyway, are we off to the rehearsal tonight, Beth?’
‘We are indeed,’ said Beth. ‘And don’t cook anything for us, Mrs Duffy. There’s a bit of a party with food in the hall afterwards. It’s one of the last rehearsals before the concert and so it’s a sort of celebration.’
‘Well, lucky you,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘Would you like me to make something for you to take with you?’
Both girls turned to look at her. ‘Would you mind?’ said Beth. ‘They did ask. I was going to call into the bakery so as not to bother you, what with you having so much on.’ She didn’t add, ‘And you’ve been so quiet over the last few days, we weren’t sure if we’d done something wrong.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. I’ll rustle up something just as soon as I get back. It’ll have to be something easy, mind. How about a sausage plait?’
Beth kissed Mrs Duffy on the cheek. ‘You are a love – but you know that.’
‘Come on, Beth, I don’t want to be late,’ said Pammy, already reaching for her cape.
Beth laughed. ‘Yes, and we know why, don’t we.’
*
Beth and Pammy were almost through the gates of St Angelus when they saw Dr Walker drive past. They looked at each other in alarm.
‘Oh, my giddy aunt,’ said Pammy. ‘He’s back. Do you think he’ll go straight to the ward?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Beth. ‘He’ll probably go and see Matron first, to let her know he’s here. Anyway, what can he say? The little boy he thought should be left to die is fighting fit.’
‘Quite. I’d love to see his face when he finds that one out.’ Pammy’s eyes were bright with mischief. ‘Tell you what, though, we had better let Sister Paige know so she can swap the cover on the notes back over to his original ones.’
And with that, as though the devil was at their heels, they dashed in to ward three to warn her.
*
Mrs Duffy alighted from Jake’s van just as Maisie opened her front door.
‘There you are, Jake,’ Maisie said. ‘The decorations are all stacked up in tea chests in the parlour. I didn’t think I was going to get them all in. Can’t believe how many we made. You couldn’t stop Betty Hutch once she got going. Look at me, covered all over in shreds of crepe paper and glitter, I am. It’s all over the house too.’ She stopped talking and looked over her shoulder towards the van. ‘I thought our Pammy was off today?’
‘You must be joking,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘She couldn’t get to St Angelus fast enough. She has persuaded Sister Paige to let her be the special nurse for Louis. She’s turning into Sister Tapps – won’t take a day off. But she’ll be helping with the decorating, and her Anthony. He’s on call, apparently, and will be coming up too.’
‘Smashing. What about Emily Haycock, is she coming?’
Mrs Duffy seemed not to hear Maisie as she looked straight past her and asked, ‘Do you need a hand, Jake?’
Maisie caught the cold tone in her voice and frowned. ‘Mrs Duffy, is Emily Haycock coming?’
Mrs Duffy looked at Maisie and paused for a moment before she answered, just as she did with her nurses when she was displeased. ‘I have no idea, Mrs Tanner. I am just the chief cook and bottle washer at the Lovely Lane home, there to tend to the needs of others. I am under no illusion that Emily Haycock, despite the fact that I mothered her for all the years she lived at the home, has any obligation to tell me what her movements are any longer – nor anything of any consequence, it would appear.’
Maisie breathed in the icy air, but it was warm compared to the words of Mrs Duffy. She decided to let the moment pass, fearing that if she probed any further, it could derail the morning’s plans. ‘Right we are, Mrs Duffy. Jake, hold that tea chest at the bottom, it’s got a crack in it and we don’t want the pavement littered with glitter.’
*
The last of the children and babies had just been transferred over from ward four. Aileen was inspecting the milk kitchen, checking that the probationers had prepared the feeds correctly and labelled them with the right names and feed times.
With all the extra babies, it was a hive of activity and the fridge was full. The bottles were lined up in the order they were to be used. Aileen had never really understood why the feed rotas were organized to such an inflexible timetable – at 6 a.m., 10 a.m., 2 p.m., 6 p.m.,
10 p.m., 2 a.m., and then 6 a.m. again – other than that it kept things orderly. It broke her heart to see the babies grizzling with hunger between the four-hourly feeds so she often fed them herself in-between times, with some watered-down dextrose solution, to keep them going. She’d been caught red-handed doing that by Dr Walker once, when she was a staff nurse on the ward.
‘What is it that you have in the bottle?’ he’d asked her.
‘Dextrose, Dr Walker. I’m sorry, but this little one is so big and hungry, he’s been screaming the place down.’ The red-faced baby in her arms had duly bawled and pulled away from the teat, furious that the bottle didn’t contain milk. ‘Can we not be more flexible with each baby and the feeds? Some can’t wait for the full four hours.’ She was embarrassed at having been caught out for using her own initiative, but it was worth a try. ‘Is there really any reason why the babies who are hungry can’t be fed at the times they need it?’
‘Absolutely out of the question,’ Dr Walker had said. ‘I think you’ll agree that as the clinician responsible for children’s services, I know what I am talking about. The stomach of a baby is no different to that of an adult. Four hours is an acceptable gap and the routine of this ward has worked very well on that basis.’
Aileen had gritted her teeth and left the screaming baby in his cot while she disposed of the dextrose solution in the milk kitchen. On that occasion she had no choice but to carry out his orders to the letter, but when Dr Walker wasn’t on the ward she made her own decisions whenever a baby’s cries became too pitiful to ignore. She didn’t care if she got into trouble, she had to do something.
She had confided in Matron a few days after her reprimand. ‘Look at this little fella…’ She pointed towards a baby in the arms of a first-year nurse who was walking him up and down the cubicle as he guzzled yet another supplementary two-ounce feed of dextrose. The nurse had sneaked it in to try and satisfy him while Aileen kept an eye on the ward door. ‘They sent him up from maternity. He’s less than twenty-four hours old and ten pounds in weight and he’s been yelling the place down.’
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