by Maggie Hope
‘Yes.’ He drew a chair up close to hers and took a sip of coffee. It was piping hot and strong, almost the last of the coffee he had brought back from the Middle East and given to his uncle because he knew he was fond of it.
‘I just wanted to say – well, I thought we’d got off on the wrong foot when we first met at the hospital,’ he said.
‘Did we? How do you mean?’ She thought of their first meeting, how he had looked at her when she had shown how she disliked working with the Germans and Italians. Her own resentment. Funny how she had got used to it, quite liked some of them, though not all. ‘Oh, I know what you mean, you didn’t like my attitude – oh!’
She stopped talking abruptly as the lights went out with an audible click, momentarily confused.
‘Oh, hell!’
Ken got to his feet, shoving his coffee on to the side table and slopping it into the saucer as he did so. For a moment he was just a dark shadow in the faint light from the fire, then he picked up the poker and stirred the coals until they burst into flame.
‘I’d better see if it’s just a fuse blown or a power cut,’ he said. But he stood there, not moving.
‘Take my flashlight,’ she suggested. Carefully she put down her cup and stood up to get it from the pocket of her coat before she remembered that she didn’t have her coat.
‘I’ll have to go if it’s a cut,’ she said. ‘The dance will be stopped and everyone will be going home.’ She was very close to him; the buttons on his uniform twinkled and gleamed in the firelight and so did his eyes. He didn’t answer, but put his arms around her and kissed her and she was lost. They forgot all about the lights.
After a moment they sank down on to the thick fur rug before the fire. The short hairs on the back of his neck were crisp under her fingers, his mouth on hers warm and demanding. And it was sweet and compelling and she was going to stop him, but not yet, not yet. Even when he took off his uniform jacket and unbuttoned his shirt and began to unbutton her blouse, she was still going to stop him. In a minute.
‘Come to bed. We’re alone in the house, no one will be in. Not tonight, not tomorrow,’ he whispered, between nibbling her earlobe and kissing the nape of her neck.
Go to bed? Her eyes flew open. Of course she wasn’t going to go to bed with him. She hadn’t gone to bed with Alan and would be eternally sorry she hadn’t, on the last leave before he went to Holland. And she wasn’t engaged to Ken, she hardly knew him!
‘I can’t do that—’
He was stopping her mouth with his own; she could taste his tongue between her lips. His fingers were on her spine, moving, making her feel faint. When his hand touched her breast, she gasped. She hardly knew what she was doing except that it was urgent, compelling, there was no will left in her. He was taking off the rest of her clothes and she was helping him and suddenly they were both naked on the rug and she opened her eyes and saw the firelight playing on the bare skin of his chest and shoulders and she was gasping for fulfilment.
The pain came as a shock and she cried out but he was holding her against him and murmuring: ‘It’s all right, my love, all right, relax.’ It was the climax which took her completely by surprise. Never had she expected it to be like this. She was exultant, filled with delight as he suddenly relaxed on top of her before rolling to one side, taking her with him and holding her close so that she could hear his heart pounding against her bare chest.
They lay like that, touching closely the whole length of their bodies, and the clock chimed again. Incredibly it was only a quarter after the hour. Her whole life had changed in a quarter of an hour. And then she felt him hardening against her thigh and he cupped her breast and brushed his thumb against the nipple and it took on a life of its own, hardening instantly.
‘It will be easier this time,’ he said. And it was.
Chapter Seventeen
The pit hooter did not blow to bring in the new year of 1945. If it had, perhaps it would have woken Theda up, but as it didn’t, she slept on in Ken’s arms on the rug before the fire in the manager’s house. She did not stir until the telephone rang, shrilling out, loud and shocking, in the quiet room.
‘Hell!’ said Ken. He turned over on to his back and yawned hugely. It was very dark, only a dim light from the dying embers of the fire showing as he stumbled to his feet and felt his way to the door to the hall. Luckily there was a candle on the hall table with matches beside it for use in the now frequent power cuts and he groped around and found them and lit the candle before answering the telephone.
‘Yes?’
Theda turned her head to watch him. She felt groggy and hardly knew where she was. She could see only the outline of him as he listened to whoever was speaking. He was naked and she looked curiously at him, the broad planes where the candlelight fell on him and the dark shadows. Of course she had seen naked men before, through necessity she had dressed their wounds and prepared them for theatre, given them bed baths. But this was different, Ken was different, she thought dreamily. A feeling of complete contentment lay like a blanket over everything else.
‘I’ll come right away, be there in half an hour. See theatre is prepared, will you?’
With a start Theda came out of her dream. Dear Lord, what was she doing here? She was supposed to be at home and bringing in the New Year by now. Da would be looking all over for her! Where were her clothes?
Ken came in carrying the candle. ‘I have to go, there’s an acute abdomen. Strangulated hernia, I think.’ He began swiftly drawing on his clothes but found time to look at her as she struggled with her knickers, catching her foot in the waist elastic and almost falling over before she got them on straight. He grinned.
‘I would stay and give you a hand, my love, but duty calls. Another time, maybe?’
Theda ignored him. She was fastening the buttons of her blouse, in her haste getting them all wrong and having to do them again. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to say. I promised I would be back for the new year, what time is it?’
‘The clock says two o’clock,’ Ken said. He was into his uniform and now sat down to fasten the laces of his shoes. He paused and gazed at her. ‘Will you be in trouble?’
Theda thought of her mother, waiting at home for them all to come in for the New Year celebrations. She thought of her father and how angry he was going to be when she did turn up. ‘That’s the understatement of the year,’ she admitted.
Ken finished tying his shoelaces and got to his feet. ‘You’re not sorry it happened?’
She looked up into his face, all shadowy in the candlelight, and for a moment they stood motionless, their haste forgotten. And then the light came on, bright and harsh and directly on them both. Tentatively she put out a hand to him.
‘I’m not sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m glad. I’m very glad.’
Ken took hold of her and kissed her gently. ‘That’s good. I’m glad too.’
The magic was still there, she thought, ready to flare up into ecstasy at any time. The knowledge was there inside her, a lovely, comforting, exciting ball of feeling at her very core. She had forgotten about Da and what he was going to say. But Ken had understood.
‘Come with me to the hospital. You can tell them I asked you to, that I needed you there.’
‘No, I can’t do that. There’s no way of letting them know, and they’ll worry until they hear from me. No, I’ll just go home and face them.’
‘Sure? Shall I give you a lift to West Row?’ He was already pulling on his greatcoat and gloves, his mind on the emergency once more. She couldn’t detain him.
‘No, no, I can easily walk. There will still be people about, first-footing the New Year.’
‘Well, if you don’t mind . . .’
He was ready, waiting for her to go so that he could lock up the house. She hurried past him and out on to the driveway, the gravel bumpy under the thin soles of her dancing shoes. By the car he turned again to her and pecked her on the cheek.
‘’Bye, dear. I’ll see you
tomorrow, no doubt.’ Getting into his car, he started the engine and drove off in the direction of Bishop Auckland.
He almost said ‘Let’s do it again, sometime’, she thought miserably. That was all it meant to him, an interlude for sex. They hadn’t even been to bed. Well, that was her fault, she told herself, as she started down the lane. It was very dark and she didn’t have her coat and was shivering. He had forgotten she had left her coat in the church hall. He hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t wearing one.
She began to walk faster and faster, to keep herself warm, but when she turned into West Row, she hesitated, not wanting to go in. She could hear laughter and music coming from the house. There were some neighbours in likely. She was still hesitating at the gate when a crowd came out of next-door and she found herself seized by the sailor she had met earlier in the church hall and waltzed round the yard.
‘Happy New Year. Please will you give me a kiss?’
There was a laughing, tipsy crowd of neighbours, evidently well on with their journey round the houses, letting in 1945 to each one, and they just about carried Theda into the house through the open back door. The kitchen and front room were packed with people, pitmen and soldiers and a handful of airmen with ‘Canada’ blazoned on their shoulders, and one of the Canadians had his arm around Clara – a laughing, sparkling Clara, bubbling over with what she had to tell her sister.
‘Theda! Where’ve you been? We were looking for you.’
‘I . . . I didn’t stop for supper, I thought I would come home and then I got delayed . . .’
It sounded very lame in her own ears and she faltered to a halt as she looked across the room at her mother and father but they weren’t even listening, they were watching Clara and the Canadian with stunned expressions on their faces. Clara, clutching the arm of her airman, pushed over to Theda.
‘Theda, Theda, this is Dean. He escaped! What do you think of that? He was in a prisoner-of-war camp and he escaped, wasn’t he brave?’
‘How do you do?’ said Dean gravely, and held out his free hand and pumped Theda’s enthusiastically. ‘I understand you will be my new sister-in-law?’
Theda gazed up at him, her mouth open. She felt dazed, unable to follow what they were saying. But there was no mistaking the happiness which spilled from them both.
‘Dean just went up to Da in the dance, Theda, and asked him if he could marry me. Wasn’t that sweet? And all his mates were cheering and they carried us round on their shoulders. Oh, Theda, it was great, why weren’t you there?’
‘I—’
But Clara wasn’t listening, she was off to the other side of the kitchen, laughing and talking, and Chuck was thrusting a glass of ginger wine into Theda’s hand and the lot of them were suddenly in a ring singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ then the crowd were off out into the night, visiting the next house on their rounds and taking the Canadians and Clara and Violet with them.
There was a sudden hush in the kitchen and Matt and Bea sat down suddenly in their accustomed chairs and looked at each other.
‘Well, that was a New Year to remember,’ said Bea. ‘I think I’ll away to bed now, I don’t think I can take any more surprises.’
‘Yes, me too,’ said Theda.
‘Mind, I don’t know where you got to, our Theda,’ Matt began, but then he seemed to forget about it. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when that lad came up to me and asked if he could marry our Clara. What could I say? If he’s the one she wants, well . . .’
‘I only wish he didn’t live on the other side of the world,’ said Bea, looking pensive. ‘Manitoba, did he say?’
Matt patted her shoulder. ‘That’s what it sounded like to me. Aye, well, he seems a decent enough lad.’
Incredibly, they didn’t seem worried about where Theda had been. ‘I’ll go up now,’ she said, thinking it best to leave before they looked at her properly and noticed something was different about her for she was certain that it must show.
‘Aye, you look tired, pet,’ said Bea. But she spoke absently, staring into the fire. ‘I’m glad you had a good time. Join in the Armstrongs’ party, did you? They always put on a good party.’
Theda nodded and turned for the stairs, hurrying up them before Bea could ask any more awkward questions. As she undressed for bed, Theda realised they never thought for an instant that she could have been doing anything they would consider wrong; they trusted her. And that was the reason she hadn’t realised Clara was pregnant – it was something which just didn’t happen to one of their girls. Fervently she hoped that Clara would be married and away before they found out.
Climbing into bed, she stretched her aching limbs, feeling aches and pains she hadn’t known she had, wincing as she turned on her side and caught her breast against a lump in the mattress. How sore it was. She should feel guilty, she knew. But she did not, she was glad, just as she told him she was glad. He had said he was too, hadn’t he? Maybe he did love her; he was just one of those men who didn’t say it all the time. She would make him love her, she thought, she could do it.
Chapter Eighteen
Theda’s thoughts were still muddled the following day when she began working on the ward. The patients were subdued, no doubt because they had heard the news that the German advance had been halted and the allies were once again surging towards the Rhine.
Many of the prisoners were being transferred back to the main camp up in Weardale and the staff were kept busy preparing for a new influx of patients. Theda managed to push her personal problems to the back of her mind as the day-to-day routine of the ward took over.
Even so, when the doors to the corridor swung open and she saw the doctors walking up to Sister’s office and going in, her pulse beat rapidly and she bent her head over the pillowcase she was replacing as a wave of heat rose in her.
‘I’m saving my clothing coupons until spring,’ Nurse Cullen was saying as she went to the next empty bed and stripped off the sheets in one capable sweep and flung them in the dirty linen skip. ‘I fancy a yellow silk dress with a heart-shaped neckline and a lovely full skirt for when my lad gets home. Do you think I’ll get one on utility?’ She giggled at the thought before turning to look at Theda, expecting her to share the joke. But Theda wasn’t even listening – she was looking at the doctors as they came out of Sister’s office.
It was the look on her face which made Nurse Cullen stop smiling and follow her gaze. There was Mr Kent and Major Collins and Sister Smith with an armful of the brown folders that contained the patients’ notes. Well, nothing strange about that: it was Mr Kent’s day for coming round. In any case, he was advising Major Collins on whether any more patients could be sent back to Weardale. She turned back to Staff Nurse.
‘I’ll take the slip back to the sluice and empty it,’ she said. Sister hated there to be a mess in the ward when the consultant came round.
‘Yes,’ said Theda absently. She stuffed the pillowcase on top of the other linen. And then Ken was there, walking by the end of the bed with Mr Kent. Theda smiled at him.
‘Morning, Staff Nurse,’ boomed Mr Kent.
‘Morning,’ murmured Ken. And walked on by, his smile polite and impersonal, and Theda felt as though he had slapped her face which was silly, she knew. Did she expect him to take her in his arms in front of everyone? Liaisons between the staff were frowned upon.
‘Staff, will you put the screens around Private Stern, please? Nurse Cullen seems to have disappeared.’
‘What? Oh, yes, Sister.’
She hurried down to the end of the ward for the screens. At least it gave her a minute to compose herself and when she came back with them her face was as impassive as Ken’s.
The rest of the day was filled with work; new admissions always caused a flurry of activity for both doctors and nurses and through necessity Ken was on the ward quite a lot. Rather belatedly, Theda’s training was coming to her rescue, however. She was able to immerse herself in her work and put their personal relationship out
of her mind until at last it was time for her to go off duty.
Walking down the ramp to the gate, passing the entrance to the theatre, she was searching in her bag for her pass to show Tom when Ken stepped out of the doorway.
‘Staff Nurse?’
Theda jumped. It was dark, only the tiny light at the door of the theatre lighting up the path, and as she turned to face him he was little more than a dark shadow before her.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Theda,’ he said quietly. ‘Meet me by the footpath on the railway bridge?’
‘I have to get back for supper. I’m staying in the nurses’ home tonight,’ she said. During the day she had decided that was the best thing to do; in the home she would be away from temptation, Night Sister saw to that. No matter what, she couldn’t let it happen again. And even now, when he was so near and she could smell the soap he used and, faintly, the unique scent of his skin, she could feel herself melting. It took an effort of will not to sway towards him.
‘Meet me,’ he said. A group of nurses was coming down the ramp and he put his hand on her arm and drew her to one side as they passed. ‘Good evening,’ he said.
‘Evening, Doctor,’ they chorused, and Ken began to speak about the treatment he wanted for a patient on the ward and Theda thought, Well, they won’t be fooled. They’ll wonder why he didn’t say it all on the ward.
‘Meet me,’ he said as the nurses’ footsteps died away and they could be heard greeting Tom, one of them laughing at something he said.
‘I can’t, it’s too public’
‘Where then?’
She looked up the ramp. A group of nurses was just coming out of Hut C. ‘Rossi’s,’ she said, naming a coffee shop in the town. ‘I’ll be having a cup of coffee in Rossi’s.’ It wouldn’t hurt to meet him in Rossi’s, there would be a few people in the cafe but there were enclosed booths, it was fairly private.