A Nurse's Courage
Page 12
‘Not if I personally accompany the Captain on his round, Sister. You won’t be put to any inconvenience, and he’ll do your patients nothing but good.’
After her success on the general wards, Matron escorted Miss Ling to the maternity ward and Alex took the opportunity to go out for a smoke in the dingy central courtyard. God, what a dump, he thought, shivering in the chill, damp air. And yet . . . how well his little Maudie had gone down with the poor old bastards! He had learned a lot about the world since he had known her and realised that he no longer fitted within the confines of life at Elmgrove. He also knew that he would not be returning there this evening and didn’t care that his parents would be upset: they had refused to see Maud, so they had only themselves to blame.
I must have you, darling Maudie, or I can’t go back to face it. There might be no next year, no next month, no tomorrow: he only had today – tonight! He would hold her in his arms, he would love her, lose himself in her . . . he longed to forget everything. Everything.
Mrs Higgs raised every conceivable objection to more visitors to the maternity ward.
‘Bad enough ’avin’ Poole comin’ in with ’is women lookin’ as if they owned the place and upsettin’ the routine,’ she told Matron defiantly. ‘An’ that probationer Court’s been orf the ward ’alf the afternoon with ’er fancy man. I ’aven’t stopped all day, and now me ward’s goin’ to be turned into a music ‘all.’
‘I can understand you feeling aggrieved, Mrs Higgs, which is why I’m sending you off the ward for two hours,’ replied Sarah Brewer briskly. ‘Hand me the keys, please.’
‘But ’oo’s goin’ to see to –’
‘I shall take charge of the ward, Mrs Higgs. Off you go now and have a good rest. Be back here at seven.’
‘But I don’t want –’
‘You may go, Mrs Higgs. Give me the keys, please. Thank you.’
There was no denying the note of finality and Mrs Higgs waddled off with rage in her heart. She had been counting on spending the rest of the day in her cosy little office-cum-sitting-room – and she was far from happy at the thought of Matron nosing around in it, opening cupboards and looking behind the medicine bottles . . .
The mothers’ eyes brightened as Miss Maud Ling was introduced, waving and curtseying, and for the next half-hour they were treated to a deliciously personal entertainment as Maudie Ling used every trick in the book to raise their spirits, to make them feel that they were not only part of her act, but necessary to it. She led them into a colourful world of romance, far away from the impoverished grey backgrounds most of them knew.
‘Use yer imaginations, girls, an’ picture me wiv me Prince Charmin’, lots o’ gold braid on ’is shoulders an’ a great big wavin’ fevver in ’is ’at – come on, sing along o’ me!’
‘Give me, give me what I cry for –
Yer know yer got the kind o’ kisses that I’d die for!
You know you – made me – love you!’
From the nursery where she was attending to the babies, Mabel heard the singing and clapping, and she smiled in spite of her sadness at not having said goodbye to Harry.
Suddenly Matron appeared at the door. ‘We’d better let Miss Ling go now, Nurse Court, because Lieutenant Redfern is waiting for her. He’s been very patient, poor man! Oh, and by the way, will you put the kettle on in the kitchen and make tea for Captain Drover? After the sterling service he has given us today, he deserves some refreshment, don’t you think? The babies aren’t due to be fed until six, so I’ll take over from you here. The Captain’s in the kitchen, and Mrs Higgs will be back at any time, so –’ She left the sentence tactfully unfinished.
‘Oh, Matron, that’s so good o’ yer.’ Mabel was truly overwhelmed, and sitting with Harry at the kitchen table, they shared ten uninterrupted minutes of each other’s company.
‘I’ll always thank the Lord for this day, Mabel. I’ve been blessed far above anythin’ I hoped for.’
‘Dearest Harry, ye’ve taken the words right out o’ me mouth, cos that’s just how I feel! And Matron’s grateful for all the good ye’ve done today – she said so.’
‘It’s the Lord’s doin’, Mabel. He led me to them who was in the greatest need, an’ gave me the right words to say to each one.’
He raised her hand to his lips and reverently kissed the palm, roughened by work and constant contact with water.
‘I know I shouldn’t wish for anythin’ more, Mabel – God knows I can’t help longin’ for yer, me own precious angel – but I’ll be content with this.’ His voice shook, and Mabel saw that he had turned very pale, with shadows around his eyes; the afternoon on the wards had tired him.
‘One day, Harry, one day I’ll be yer wife an’ wear one o’ them bonnets with a great big bow on,’ she teased lovingly. ‘And we’ll look back to today an’ say, “D’ye remember that Christmas o’ 1915 when Matron let us have time on our own in the maternity kitchen?”’
They were chuckling over this when Matron came to call Mabel for the six o’clock feeds; the Captain took his leave with Matron’s repeated thanks, and in the nursery she took Mabel aside.
‘I thought Nurse McLoughlin seemed a little upset when Miss Ling was singing. D’you think she’s homesick for Ireland, or is there something troubling her that you know about?’
‘Oh, Matron! It must’ve been the song.’ Mabel’s eyes filled with sadness. ‘It’s me brother, y’see. They’re – er – courtin’, and we haven’t had word o’ him for ever so long. He’s in the merchant navy and they’ve got him on convoy duty now, back an’ forth across the Atlantic.’
‘My dear Nurse Court, I’m so sorry. Poor Nurse McLoughlin. We must follow Captain Drover’s example and pray for – for them all.’
‘Good God, Maud, I thought you were never coming. I’ve been going out of my mind.’
‘What was yer worryin’ abaht? Yer knew where I was,’ she panted as they hurried along the South Lambeth Road.
‘It wasn’t worry, Maud, it was the sheer waste of time I could’ve been spending with you. There I was hanging about, smoking one fag after another –’
‘I wasn’t wastin’ my time, Alex. Yer should’ve seen them poor gals in that maternity ward, and them little tiny babies. Made me fink o’ when I used to carry me little bruvver Teddy aht to market stalls to see what we could beg or pinch. Some o’ them’ll be doin’ the same, I reckon.’
He was silent and she tightened her hold on the crook of his arm.
‘Fanks for comin’ this af’noon, Alex. I know it must’ve been ’ard leavin’ yer family an’ all that on Chris’muss Day, an’ then waitin’ arahnd all this time. But I done a good job there, an’ it meant a lot to that Matron an’ them poor sods stuck in that place. An’ what abaht ol’ ‘Arry Drover? Finks the world o’ Mabel, ’e does, an yer don’t ’ear ’im complainin’, even though they ’ave to do their courtin’ in a bleedin’ coalshed.’
He stopped and put both arms round her. ‘I’m sorry, Maudie. It’s only that I need you more than anything and I want you all to myself.’
She smiled up at him, a hint of a promise in her bright hazel eyes. ‘C’mon, let’s get goin’, then. No more ’angin’ arahnd!’
At the lodging house, Maud led Alex straight up to her room on the second floor, ignoring the sounds of voices from other rooms. She unlocked her door and closed it quietly behind her.
‘Maud!’ His arms were round her, but she wriggled free. ‘’Old on, I need to ’ave a pee, light the fire an’ ’ave a cup o’ tea.’
‘Oh, come on, Maudie, do!’ Alex sighed while she put a match to the newspaper and kindling sticks laid in the tiny grate. The room struck cold, but he had no doubt that they would soon be warm enough in bed, and he had no wish to delay further.
‘There’s a WC dahn the passage, but I don’t want to run into nobody, so I’ll use the po,’ she said, pulling the pot out from under the bed, squatting on it and shoving it back again without replacing her drawers.
The fire was now burning well and Maud put three pieces of coal on. The kettle had boiled, and she brewed a pot of tea and poured out two steaming cups.
With the curtains drawn and the gaslight turned down, only the flames lit the room, casting huge, leaping shadows on the wallpaper. Maud held out her arms to him.
‘Ain’t yer goin’ to undress me, then?’
Ah, the fumbling of fingers at buttons, hooks and eyes, suspenders, elastic – the warm flesh revealed, the gleam of shoulders, breasts and thighs in the firelight: what desires about to be fulfilled, what dreams waiting to come true! Redfern trembled.
‘Maud! Oh, my own darling Maudie, how beautiful you are . . .’
He unbuttoned his own jacket and threw it aside; then there were shirt buttons, cuff-links, braces, fly-buttons. Trying to pull off his trousers, he found he still had his boots on and cursed.
Maud giggled, though her own heart was racing nineteen to the dozen. He knelt beside her in his singlet and underpants.
‘Let me take ’em off.’ She smiled, a naked nymph in all her glory.
‘Let’s go to bed.’
And then the cold sheets, the blankets and eiderdown covering them.
‘Ugh, yer feet ain’t ’alf cold, Alex!’
‘But I’m not cold here, am I?’ He took her hand and led it to his hard erection. She gave a happy little ‘mm-mm’ as she took it in her hand, encircling it with her fingers and gently sliding them up and down the shaft. This was too much for him to bear, and he writhed and groaned.
‘For God’s sake, Maud, my love, my darling, help me, I need you – oh, God!’
‘All right, Alex, here I am, here, like this –’ She eased herself over so that she was lying above him, their loins touching. She separated her legs and lowered herself on to him.
‘Help me, Maud, I’m afraid. Help me! Only you can help me,’ he repeated wildly, and her heart seemed to melt as she heard the words that she understood only too well; he had told her of what he had seen at first hand of the war, and she knew about his fear of injury and pain, a young man’s unpreparedness for death. Death. And this was the only way that she could help him to overcome that fear – or rather to forget it for a few hours. So Maud did not hesitate; at whatever risk to herself, she had to give him what he needed.
‘Alex, Alex, come to me, come on, forget everyfing. Everyfing.’
There was no time for any more preliminaries; in fact, there was only just enough time for him to enter her as she pressed down upon him. There was a shudder, a brief muffled cry from her and then a huge explosion of pleasure. His arms gripped her body round the middle, her arms were up around his neck. Time stood still while love flowed, there were wordless sounds as they both experienced climax at the same moment. Forgetting everything.
And then the downward slide, the descent to earth out of a night sky filled with shooting stars. Forgetting everything. Everything.
‘Everything,’ he was saying as he stirred beneath her. ‘Everything, my darling. I’ll remember everything.’
They fell asleep almost at once as they lay, for what might have been minutes or an hour, until she woke and raised her head.
‘Alex.’
‘What?’
‘Yer parents’ll be aht o’ their minds, yer clearin’ orf like this on Chris’muss Day.’
‘That’s their funeral.’
But this did not satisfy her: she was troubled.
‘Alex, this is only cos o’ the war, innit? Chaps like you don’t go wiv girls like me.’
‘I do.’
‘But I can understand yer muvver, Alex. She finks I’m common, an’ so I am. I mean yer wouldn’t take me to meet yer friends in the Flyin’ Corps club, nah, would yer?’
‘I would if you wanted me to. I’d never be –’
He stopped, not wanting to say ashamed of you.
‘Ashamed o’ me.’ She said it for him.
He reared up in the bed and took her face between his hands.
‘Maud! Get it into your head, can’t you? I love you, I need you, nobody else will do, can’t you understand that? I’ve been with other girls, of course I have, and might have married one of them – but the war happened, and the Flying Corps, and you came to me, my darling Maudie.’
He rolled her over on to her back and pushed her thighs apart. He put his first and second fingers inside her and circled them with a roughness that matched his words as his desire rekindled.
‘My common little Maudie, my naughty cockney girl, my vulgar little sweetheart who pulls down her drawers and pees into a chamber-pot in front of me – no shame, no modesty, no so-called bloody manners – Christ, Maudie! Again, Maudie, again!’
This time he was in control, riding her, thrusting into her again and again until the bed rocked and the brass headrail thumped rhythmically against the wall, causing shouts from whoever lodged beyond it, though whether of protest or ribald encouragement Alex Redfern neither knew nor cared. To Maud it seemed to go on for an eternity, and when at last he collapsed sweating and sobbing on top of her, she was bruised and sore, and her breasts were tender from his teeth marks. Yet when the storm had passed and he wept uncontrollably in her arms, she soothed him as tenderly as a mother comforting her child.
In the fireplace a coal shifted, sending up a last, leaping flame from the dying embers. Again the shadows flickered eerily up and down the wall. Maud shivered.
It had been a long day and Sarah Brewer was very tired, but her prayers of the morning had been answered beyond her best hopes. Her much criticised indulgence of that excellent Nurse Court had brought rich rewards for the whole Infirmary – comfort and counsel from a Salvation Army officer and sheer enchantment from a pantomime star.
Getting down on her knees beside the bed, Sarah wondered what 1916 would bring for Nurse Court’s brother, Miss Ling’s dashing lieutenant and that serious young Captain Drover. Would the longed-for victory be accomplished before another Christmas came round? Or would the fighting continue, and the lists of killed and wounded grow ever longer? She could only pray for them.
At Southampton just before midnight a handful of hollow-eyed, bearded survivors of a torpedoed merchant vessel, pulled out of the water more dead than alive six days ago, finally stumbled ashore.
Against all odds, they were home.
Chapter Eight
CINDERELLA OPENED ON the twenty-seventh of December and Maud made the most of the lucky chance that had put her into a leading role. She gave out half a dozen complimentary matinée tickets at the Infirmary, but for Mabel, Harry and Norah she had seats reserved in the back row of the circle for the evening performance on New Year’s Day.
‘Don’t tell me yer can’t swop shifts an’ get yerselves aht o’ that place on Sat’day evenin’,’ she said airily. ‘Tell ’em ye’ll work every other perishin’ night this week, only yer want that one orf, or else!’
In spite of Mrs Higgs’s grudging objections, Mrs Hayes agreed to be on Caesar-call for Mabel, and the Sister on Men’s II showed her appreciation of Nurse McLoughlin by giving her the evening off. Harry also said he could come, though his family were sorry to see him prefer that type of entertainment to the evening meeting at the Citadel. For him the prospect of sitting for three blissful hours beside the sweetest girl in the world was too great to resist. Any day might bring the summons to report for a medical examination and, although seldom mentioned, it was never far from Harry’s mind or Mabel’s. Alex Redfern had already returned to France, flying from Eastchurc
h on the Isle of Sheppey to the makeshift air base at Fienvillers, from where the RFC squadrons flew out over the lines to engage in skirmishes with the German fighter biplanes now appearing in larger numbers; Maud made a point of mispronouncing Fokkers.
Then came the message to Nurse Court on maternity, just after ten o’clock on the Tuesday morning following Christmas.
‘Ye’re to go up to Matron’s office right away, Court.’
Mabel was trying to persuade a puny baby to latch on to its mother’s flat nipple.
‘D’ye mean now, this minute?’ she asked, straightening herself up.
‘’Course I mean this minute, what d’ye think? Leave that an’ go an’ see what’s up.’
Mabel smoothed her apron and tucked a few stray wisps of fair hair under her cap. Whatever could Matron want? Was there some reason why she or Norah weren’t able to go to the pantomime on Saturday? Mystified, she hurried off to obey the summons.
‘Come in, Nurse Court.’ Matron’s face was grave. ‘Please sit down.’
Sit down? You didn’t sit down in Matron’s office, you stood to attention throughout the interview. Mabel’s eyes went straight towards the open copy of The Times spread out on the wide desk, and her heart lurched at the sight of column after column of names stretching across the page, listing the names of men who had been killed, wounded or reported missing. Including those missing at sea.
And she knew before another word was said.
‘Albert,’ she whispered, her hand on her throat.
Matron looked up. ‘Yes, Nurse Court, I’m afraid it’s sad news about your brother, Albert Edward Court. He’s listed here as missing.’ She indicated the chair. ‘Do sit down, my dear.’
But Mabel remained standing, though she gripped the edge of the desk. ‘Missing,’ she mouthed. ‘Not . . . killed.’
The Matron sighed. Breaking bad news to relatives never became easier.
‘I’m afraid there appears to be very little cause for hope, Nurse Court. The merchant ship Christina was torpedoed by a German submarine in mid-Atlantic on the night of December the twenty-first, with the loss of all crew members, and your brother’s name is among them. I am so very sorry to have to tell you this.’