A Nurse's Courage

by Maggie Holt

  A semicircle of silently staring eyes faced her. And in the middle stood Sister Mattock, a tall, dark-complexioned woman whose eyes glared fiercely from below jet-black brows. Little tufts of wiry hair bristled from under her sister’s veil, and her stout arms were folded across her chest. Her sleeves, like the rest of her uniform, fitted tightly and showed her red wrists; she looked every inch the dragon she had been made out to be.

  Mabel stared at her in disbelief. One of the watching nurses gave a suppressed giggle and Nurse McLoughlin, coming slowly down the stairs, heard Mabel give a strangled cry as she leapt forward into Sister Mattock’s arms.

  ‘Albert! Oh, Albert, yer blighter, yer deserve to be –’

  But her brother hugged her close and never heard what he deserved. Arriving at the Infirmary he had charmed his way into the staff dining-room and persuaded the off-duty nurses to fetch him a Sister’s uniform from the soiled laundry.

  ‘Hey, Mabel, don’t start pipin’ yer eye as soon as yer poor bruvver sets foot on dry land,’ he protested as her tears flowed. ‘Get yer glad-rags on, gal, an’ we’ll go out for a pie an’ mash!’

  ‘These are the gladdest rags I got, Albert – we’re just off to meet Harry Drover,’ she told him, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.

  Albert whooped. ‘Wot, ol’ ’oly ‘Arry? Still blowin’ his trombone, is ‘e? That’s better still, we’ll all go aht togevver.’

  ‘And er – and this is my friend Norah McLoughlin – she’s comin’ too.’

  ‘Good, the more the merrier. Ah, an Irish rose, an’ all!’

  His dark eyes rested admiringly on Norah who blushed and lowered her lashes, utterly dumbfounded by this sudden transformation of the fire-breathing Sister Mattock into Mabel’s brother, as swarthy as his sister was fair.

  Hastily divesting himself of his borrowed plumes, he smiled at the nurses who had obtained them for him, and taking Mabel and Norah by the arm, one on each side, he led them out into Booth Street where Captain Drover’s face lit up with delight at the sight of his old friend and workmate. Albert explained that he had been recalled from the Mediterranean for probable convoy duty in the Channel and North Sea, and the girls listened eagerly to every word as the four of them walked up St George’s Road to the Elephant and Castle.

  ‘I’d’ve fought it was a bad enough bottleneck already wivout you lot blockin’ up the traffic an’ all,’ he remarked as they approached the open-air gathering and the banner aloft with the words emblazoned, Enlist for Jesus. Harry went to take his place in the band.

  ‘’Ere, come on, girls, let’s go for a quick one while they’re warmin’ up.’

  ‘No, Albert, we can’t go into a pub right under Harry’s nose and besides, Norah’s in uniform,’ answered Mabel firmly. ‘We’ll wait for yer over there by the coffee stall.’

  ‘All right, then – ’ere, get yerself an’ the lovely Norah a couple o’ hot pies. Get me one an’ all, will yer?’

  ‘Ooh, ta, Albert!’ Mabel’s eyes lit up at the handful of silver he pulled out of his pocket, half-crowns, florins and sixpenny bits. His free and easy way with money made her think of their father whom Albert now resembled more and more, though his speech was rougher and he never bothered about his appearance as Jack Court had done, yet both were dark-eyed charmers with an eye for a pretty girl and a willingness to spend freely while the money lasted.

  ‘Ye never said he was that good-lookin’, Mabel,’ whispered Norah, completely bowled over.

  ‘Yeah, he’s the image of our dad when he’d had a good day on the horses.’ Mabel smiled. ‘He was a bookmaker and travelled around a lot, y’see. Only Albert and Dad never hit it off – he always sided with our mother. That was why he went to sea on the Warspite when he was only sixteen. Mum was ever so upset. Still, come on, let’s go and spend his money!’

  They bought cups of coffee and meat pies wrapped in greaseproof paper. Albert joined them on a corner where Harry stood with his back to them in the band, playing ‘Bless His Name, He sets me free’, to the tune of ‘Champagne Charlie is my name’. Mabel looked swiftly at her brother, forbidding him to make any play on the words.

  ‘The Salvation Army uses tunes that everybody knows, ’cause not all of ’em know the ones they sing in church,’ she explained to Norah who saw Albert wink at her behind Mabel’s back.

  The skies had been clouding over and a stiff breeze from the west brought a flurry of raindrops. Mabel shivered and wished she’d brought an umbrella to protect her hat.

  Albert noticed how pale the girls looked and, telling them to wait for a minute, he sidled up to Captain Drover between hymns. ‘I say, ‘Arry, them girls’ve been on their feet for ten hours, an’ it looks as if this bleedin’ rain’s settin’ in for the evenin’,’ he said. ‘Tell yer what, I’ll take ’em dahn the Souf London ‘All for a bit, so’s they can ’ave a sit down in the dry – all right, mate?’

  Harry had little choice but to nod his assent and though he was disappointed to see them hurrying off, he knew that Mabel must be wanting to talk with her brother.

  ‘C’mon, girls, we’re goin’ to the music ‘all,’ said Albert, steering them purposefully away from the meeting and down the London Road.

  Their tiredness vanished as they began to speculate eagerly about what might be on at the South London Hall. It was a completely new experience for Norah and the last time Mabel had been to a music hall was at the Grand on St John’s Hill, Battersea, back in those far-off days when she’d lived with her parents and brothers and sisters, before the tragedy that had changed their lives.

  ‘It was you who treated us then, Albert, d’ye remember? Just after Christmas, it was, on yer first leave from Greenhithe.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right, Mabel, so it was, Boxin’ Day. Ol’ ‘Arry was there, an’ yer friend Maudie an’ ’er little bruvver. Little did we know it was the last Chris’muss before –’ He glanced at Norah and checked himself. ‘Come on, girls, we’ll do it big tonight – get ourselves a box!’

  Mabel felt a rush of affection for her brother, less than a year younger than herself, quick-tempered and impulsive, but always warm-hearted. He had been good to their mother and Mabel was the only person he had never answered back, even when she had given him a good telling-off as his elder sister.

  Norah gasped as they entered the Victorian music hall, which seemed to her the very pinnacle of luxury and magnificence, with its plush seats and chandeliers. A heady fragrance of cigar smoke and perfume wafted up from the auditorium, and Albert got them a box for the enormous sum of a guinea, just as the show was about to begin.

  ‘Sure, an ‘tis the grandest place I ever did see,’ murmured Norah as she took her place on an elegant, round-backed chair. Her nurse’s cap was slightly askew on her dark hair and Albert leaned across to adjust the ‘tail’ over her cloak. He was touched by her childlike wonder at everything she saw and heard, and could not help contrasting her with the bold-faced women who waited down at the docks for sailors to come ashore with their pockets full of back pay.

  ‘I’n’t she a sweet little fing, Mabel?’ he whispered, nodding towards the girl’s shining eyes as the conductor lifted his baton and the curtain went up promptly at seven thirty.

  The star of the evening was the popular Harry Champion, but first on were the girls of the chorus in daringly short dresses and waving coloured scarves to much clapping and cheering. Then a lady and gentleman sang a sentimental duet, and they were followed by a brawny man in a leopard-skin and sporting a huge moustache, who brandished a glittering sword and demonstrated its sharpness by slashing to ribbons a newspaper held up by a pretty girl. He then proceeded to throw back his head, point the sword into his mouth and swallow it, inch by inch, to gasps of incredulity. Then, having accomplished this amazing feat, he breathed out flames of fire which set light to another newspaper held up by the girl.

  ‘Cor! It’s given ’im the wind pretty bad,’ said Albert and Norah’s peal of laughter drew heads in their direction.
Mabel was thoughtful. The girl assistant had a strangely familiar air and there was something about the saucy way she wiggled her hips. Could she be . . .? Was it possible?

  ‘Don’t she remind yer o’ somebody, Albert, that girl?’ she whispered.

  ‘Eh? Ooh, yeah, see what yer mean. She ain’t Maudie Ling, is she?’

  ‘I reckon she is, Albert – just watch the way she moves – it is her, I’m sure of it!’ Turning to Norah, she explained that Maudie Ling had been a childhood friend.

  ‘She used to beg in the streets with her baby brother in her arms, Norah. The parents were hopeless drinkers, and Maud and Teddy were the only survivors o’ their children.’

  ‘Sure ‘tis a terrible curse, the drink,’ murmured Norah.

  ‘Got caught nickin’ grub from some toff’s kitchen up Belgravy way, di’n’t she, Mabel?’

  ‘Yes, that’s when she an’ Teddy got sent to the Waifs an’ Strays at Dulwich. And then she went into service an’ thought she was in ’eaven, but there was trouble there, too –’

  Albert gave her a warning glance, for that had been another story and not one to share with Norah McLoughlin. ‘Yer ain’t kept in touch, then?’

  ‘The last I heard she was in service with a family up St John’s Wood and had got another young man. Harry and me saw ’em in Trafalgar Square last New Year. He was a proper toff, spoke very posh.’

  ‘’Im an’ me’d’ve got on all right, then.’ Albert grinned. ‘Looks ’s if she’s fallen on ’er feet now, any’ow.’ He winked at Norah who blushed and lowered her lashes.

  A comedian came on next, with some hard-luck stories about his nagging wife and her fearsome mother. The war had brought him a chance to get away from them both, he said, and he was off to join the navy. Albert gave him a cheer, and the girls laughed when the comic looked up and said he would sing a little ditty just for the gentleman and ladies in the box above the stage. It was a song about a mermaid.

  ‘’Twas in the mid-Atlantic, in the equinoctial gales,

  That a sailor-lad fell overboard, among the sharks and whales –’

  The audience joined in with gusto at the end of each verse:

  ‘’Cause he’s mar-ri-ed to a mer-ma-id at the bottom o’ the deep blue sea!’

  He got almost as many cheers and whistles as the great Harry Champion himself, who came on next to prolonged applause before he’d even opened his mouth. When the audience finally settled down he sang a medley of songs, ending with his famously speedy rendering of ‘Any Old Iron’. Mabel and Albert who knew it well got even more pleasure out of Norah’s merriment when she realised that the gold watch and chain proudly displayed across Mr Champion’s chest was the subject of the song. Faster and faster he sang the derisive chorus, until the orchestra could hardly keep up with him. Norah leaned over the side of the box, almost helpless with mirth as she joined in the singing:

  ‘I wouldn’t give yer tuppence for yer old watch chain – Old iron! Old iron!’

  Alas, the ten o’clock curfew meant that they had to leave before the end of the show, but not before the young lady assistant to the sword swallower returned in a deceptively conventional gown and bonnet, to give a very cheeky version of ‘Who Were You With Last Night?’.

  ‘That’s Maudie, Albert, no doubt about it, look at her!’ said Mabel excitedly as they reluctantly got up to leave the box. All eyes were centred on the little figure mincing up and down the stage, pointing her parasol at various gentlemen in the audience.

  ‘Who was yer wiv last night?

  Aht in the pale moon light?

  It wasn’t yer sister, it wasn’t yer ma –’

  A deafening chorus rose up in response: ‘Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah-ah! Ah-ah!’

  ‘Wouldn’t I just love to have a word with her, but we’ll have to step on it to get back in time,’ panted Mabel as they descended the stairs to the entrance where they found Harry pacing up and down, waiting to escort Mabel back to the Infirmary.

  ‘It’s ten to ten, we’ll ’ave to hurry,’ he urged her.

  ‘Oh, Harry, I’m sorry – it hasn’t been much of an evenin’ for yer, has it?’ Mabel apologised guiltily, while Norah sighed happily over ‘the most wonderful time I ever did have in me whole life, so!’.

  ‘We had a good meetin’, Mabel, considerin’ the rain, and there was a great sense o’ the Lord’s presence among us,’ said Harry seriously, tucking Mabel’s arm under his and hurrying her along the pavement. Albert took Norah’s arm, and the four of them hurtled down Gaywood Street and into St George’s Road.

  ‘Guess who we saw on the stage, Harry, singin’ her head off and lookin’ as pretty as a picture? Maudie Ling! Yes, really, I’d know her anywhere. I wonder where she’s livin’.’

  ‘I’ll go back an’ see if I can find ’er at the end o’ the show,’ promised Albert behind them. ‘Tell ’er yer was askin’ for ’er.’

  ‘Come on, Mabel, yer don’t want to be locked out,’ muttered Harry and when they reached the nurses’ hostel at half a minute to ten, there was no time for farewells.

  ‘Be round termorrer af’noon,’ Albert told her as he pushed both girls in through the door, and over his shoulder Mabel caught a last glimpse of Harry’s anxious eyes upon her as it closed.

  ‘Mabel Court, as I live an’ breave! ’Ow are yer, then, me ol’ pal?’

  ‘Maudie!’ The two girls hugged each other while Albert stood by. They were at the entrance to the nurses’ hostel and Mabel had just come off duty for the afternoon.

  ‘Oh, Maudie, don’t yer look gorgeous – like a fashion plate!’

  Maud Ling, one-time child of the streets, was dressed in a pale-pink outfit with a matching hat, gloves and shoes, as charming as it was impractical.

  ‘That grey uniform don’t do yer justice, Mabel, ’specially the ’eadgear. Can’t yer change into summat else an’ come out for a chop or somefing? Albert says ye’re free for a coupla hours.’

  ‘Yes, till five.’ Mabel hesitated, knowing that she had not a penny in her purse, and Maudie looked as if she was used to going to decent eating places.

  ‘Go on up and get changed, gal, and I’ll take yer bofe aht to wherever Maud says,’ Albert assured her, and she shot him a grateful look.

  Half an hour later they were seated in Wilcox’s Dining Rooms on the Kennington Road.

  ‘’Andy for the Canterbury, this place,’ said Maud with satisfaction, picking up her knife and fork. ‘Gonna be in the chorus o’ the pantomime there at Chris’muss!’ She chuckled. ’Cor, I was that pleased to see ol’ Albert ’angin’ rahnd last night! Ol’ Nobby the stage manager fought ’e was one o’ them stage door johnnies chancin’ ’is luck and got a bit beefy – di’n’t ’e, Albert? Very partic’lar abaht ’is gals, ’e is. But we soon got it sorted aht. So what did yer fink o’ yer ol’ pal on stage, Mabel?’

  ‘Knew yer as soon as I saw yer – when yer came on with that sword swallower, I thought to meself, “That’s Maudie Ling!” Funny thing, we’d just been talkin’ about yer. Last time we met yer were at a place in St John’s Wood.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I got chucked aht, di’n’t I? The missus found me an’ Alex – ’er son – in what yer might call a compromisin’ – er – well, she gave me the boot, but Alex is still me young man, an’ ’elps aht wiv me lodgin’s now that I’ve gorn on to better fings – an’ gettin’ better all the time, an’ all.’

  Mabel avoided Albert’s eye. Did this mean that Maud was a kept woman?

  ‘If only it wasn’t for this bloody war! Alex has got the idea o’ goin’ into this flyin’ lark – be one o’ them special officers ’oo fly them machines dahn on Salisbury plain. They reckon they’ll be able to fly over the Channel to France and see what the Jerries are up to. Don’t like the sahnd of it meself – wouldn’t stand a chance if one o’ them bleedin’ fings came crashin’ to earf.’

  Albert grimaced. ‘They got ’em in the navy an’ all. S’pose ye’d ’ave a better chance if it came dahn in the drink.’ Seeing Maudie�
�s genuine fear for her Alex and sensing the need for a change of subject, he asked Mabel, ‘When’s yer little Irish friend free again?’

  ‘Saturday, I think – and she’d love to go out again.’ Mabel smiled, knowing that Norah had lain awake half the night reliving her evening at the music hall.

  ‘Might as well make the most o’ me time – only got six days. Ask ’er if she’d like to come aht, will yer, Mabel? And yerself as well, o’ course –’

  ‘No, I’m on that evenin’, an seein’ Harry on Sunday,’ said Mabel with a wink at Maud. ‘Only ye’d better mind yer step with Norah, she’s much too innocent for the likes o’ you.’

  ‘I’d treat ’er the same as I’d treat me favourite sister.’

  ‘Sahnds like a dull evenin’ to me.’ Maud grinned. ‘’Ow’s yer little bruvver Georgie over in Canada, Mabel?’

  Mabel gave the latest news of him and asked about Maud’s brother Teddy.

  ‘Still wiv the Waifs an’ Strays at Over’ill Road in Dulwich – ’e’s twelve now, cheeky little blighter, reckon they’ll frow ’im aht in anuvver year, an’ Gawd knows what ’e’ll do then.’ She suddenly looked hard at Mabel. ‘You know what it’s like, don’t yer, gal, not ’avin’ a proper ’ome, not bein’ able to give yer own bruvver a bed when ’e’s on leave, not ’avin’ anywhere to go wiv ol’ ‘Arry for a bit o’ slap an’ a tickle – go on, no need to blush, yer know what I mean.’ She leaned across the table and spoke slowly and clearly to her friend. ‘I tell yer, Mabel Court, one o’ these days I’m goin’ to ’ave money, an’ a nice ’ome o’ me own, where me friends can come an’ ’ang their ’ats up in the ’all.’

  ‘Oh, Maudie!’ Both the brother and sister laughed, but Maudie was in earnest. ‘Just you wait and see if I don’t!’

  Norah had her evening out with Albert and Mabel saw the tremulous happiness in her friend’s soft blue eyes. When he said goodbye to them both at the end of his leave Mabel turned away tactfully to allow him to kiss the the pretty Irish girl and murmur something in her ear about being sweethearts and keeping in touch. Then he strode off towards the docks again with his rolled-up bag across his shoulder, singing as he went.