by Maggie Holt
In spite of Ada’s self-centred attitude, she could count on her friend’s understanding, for Mabel still saw the high-spirited, giddy girl she had known in the days when they’d both worked at the Hallam Road Babies’ Mission. Now she could imagine Ada’s helpless terror as the Military Service Act spread its net ever wider, snaring married men as well as adventure-seeking youths. Not that there was much left of the early enthusiasm to join up and fight for king and country: the horrendous lists of dead and wounded had brought the gruesome reality of the war home to the nation.
‘D’ye see much o’ Mrs Spearmann these days, Ada?’ she asked in an attempt to divert her friend’s thoughts.
‘No, no, she’s completely taken up with this children’s home and doesn’t bother with the Clapham Committee any more,’ replied Ada crossly. ‘She’s tried to interest some o’ the ladies in visiting the place and taking children home to tea, but of course I can’t do anything like that, not as I am at present and with my own poor children to look after. Old Amos Spearmann has gone into uniform production, so they’ll be making a pile,’ she added bitterly. ‘Anyway, I can’t stand here talking all the morning, Mabel, I’ve got far too much to do at home. You’re free for the rest o’ the day now, I suppose?’
Mabel did not bother to point out that after being on duty all night she needed to sleep before facing another night. Poor Ada! What on earth would she do if Arthur was called up?
When Seaman Court was pronounced fit to leave the Tooting Home his Aunt Kate wrote from Belhampton to invite him to stay at Pinehurst, now filled with convalescent men. As one of the family Albert would be a special house guest.
‘No fanks,’ he said at once when Mabel showed him the letter saying how much they all wanted to see the young hero. ‘The ovvers’ll be officers, most like, an’ I’d be a fish aht o’ water. Besides, my Norah couldn’t travel forty miles to see me. No, I’ll go an’ bunk dahn at the Sailors’ ’Ome by the docks. ‘Tain’t a bad place, I been there before.’
‘But it’s a long way out and a rough area for Norah to visit alone,’ objected Mabel, wishing for the hundredth time that she could offer her brother somewhere local to stay.
But a solution was at hand. Matron Brewer’s sharp eyes did not miss much that concerned her nurses, especially the best ones. She had taken note of Nurse McLoughlin’s pale looks and tired eyes, and had heard on the hospital grapevine that Seaman Court was leaving the Tooting Home. She sent for Nurse McLoughlin and informed her that she was due for a week’s holiday and could take it at the beginning of April.
‘I think you should get right away from London, nurse. A breath of country air would do you a world of good. I believe your friend Nurse Court has got relatives at Belhampton down in Hampshire, so why not ask if you can go there for a few days?’
Norah duly reported this to Mabel who stared in blank amazement until light dawned – and then she gave a whoop of delight.
‘Hooray! Hooray, Norah, that’s wonderful!’ she cried, jumping up and down in the main corridor like an excited child. ‘Good old Matron! Don’t yer see? You an’ Albert can go together, and he can introduce yer to the aunts and Daisy and Alice! Oh, Norah, Norah, just wait till me brother hears about this – he’ll be turnin’ cartwheels!’
Sure enough, Albert changed his mind forthwith and Mabel wrote on his behalf to the aunts, accepting Kate’s offer of hospitality and telling them of his engagement to a close friend of hers who had got a week’s holiday and was looking forward to meeting them. A cordial invitation was extended to Miss McLoughlin from the Somertons by return of post, and so it was arranged that Albert would spend two weeks at Pinehurst, getting reacquainted with his aunts and sisters and with Pinehurst itself, his mother’s home that he had visited only once before; and then Norah would join him for the second week as his intended bride, staying at Pear Tree Cottage with the Somertons. The pair would be able to meet every day and take local walks unchaperoned as an engaged couple. Norah was in raptures.
‘Ah, now, Mabel, this is above me wildest dreams, to meet yer family and stay in a real house in the country – and see the dear boy every day! I just hope yer aunts’ll like me an’ think me good enough for Albert, that’s all.’
Mabel smiled affectionately. ‘’Course they will – it’ll more likely be the other way round!’
Daisy wrote to say that she was counting the days to seeing her sailor brother again and meeting Norah, about whom she had heard so much. The only regret was that Mabel was not coming too. However, this was perhaps all for the best, Mabel felt; Albert should be the one to introduce his Irish rose to his relations, rather than leaving this to his sister if she were there, while he lurked in the background. And there was another reason why Mabel wanted to stay in London: as spring advanced, so did the dreaded order that would send Harry with his platoon of men across the Channel to the battlefields, and Mabel wanted to spend every available minute with the man who loved and needed her, while he was still at hand.
There were growing rumours circulating about a huge new assault on the German lines, a ‘big push’ that would thrust the enemy back and let the allies take possession of their trenches: it would bring the war on the Western Front to an end and release troops to go to the aid of their comrades fighting in Italy, Greece and Turkey. New conscripts streamed into the army, older men, family men who had heeded the new recruitment drive and the posters showing wives and children urging Daddy to go to the War. Actresses and music hall stars addressed them from the stages of theatres or at open-air meetings: Come to your country’s aid in her hour of need! Finish off the war and come home safely to your womenfolk!
When Nurse McLoughlin went on her holiday at the beginning of April, Nurse Court was taken off night duty and sent to Men’s II, where a porter gave her a knowing wink and passed her a note from Corporal Drover asking her to meet him at Battersea Bridge on her first afternoon off from the ward, which was the following day.
Harry was already waiting for her when she arrived and had the look of a man who had made up his mind about something.
‘Bless yer, Mabel, I haven’t got long – let’s go into the park.’ He took her arm and held it tightly as he led her along paths familiar to her from childhood. A few other strollers were enjoying the sunshine dappling through the burgeoning trees and the daffodils were coming into their full glory, but Harry seemed scarcely to notice his surroundings; she felt the tension in every step he took, every movement he made.
Unable to bear the suspense, she asked him to tell her straight away why they were there.
‘Harry, dear, if ye’ve got somethin’ to tell me, ye’d better say it. Have they sent for yer?’
‘No, Mabel, not yet, but it’ll be any day now. I don’t how long I’ve got – it could be next week.’
He quickly drew her aside, off the path and towards a clump of laurels where he put his hands on her shoulders. He spoke urgently, breathlessly.
‘I don’t know how long I’ve got before they send me over there, dearest Mabel,’ he repeated. ‘And I want – I need – to hold yer, to look upon yer before I go. Somewhere we can be alone, somewhere we can lay down together and not be overlooked – to hold yer, to touch yer, Mabel. I’m askin’ yer from the heart. I could go out there with courage if –’
His hands cupped her face as he pleaded with her; intense longing gave him boldness, while respect for her made him hesitate – hoping and despairing, yearning yet fearing.
‘I could face whatever’s out there if I could take the memory with me, Mabel, the memory of you – of us – together. D’ye know what I mean? D’ye understand me, Mabel?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, I do.’
‘Oh, my dearest, dearest girl –’ The peak of his uniform cap bumped against her forehead as he bent his face over hers. ‘If only yer knew how I’ve fought against what I feel – about –’
‘I’ve known for a long time, Harry,’ she told him softly. ‘And I’ve felt the same, only – only it’d be a risk
, wouldn’t it?’
‘What d’ye mean, Mabel? I’d never take any risk, yer know that. I’d never disgrace yer, Mabel. I’m not talkin’ about – fornication.’ Even saying the word cost him an effort. ‘No, just to hold yer – to look at yer, to touch yer – yer lovely body. That’s all I’m askin’.’
‘But –’ Mabel paused on the obvious question. ‘But where could we –’
‘Listen, Ruby’s goin’ to visit Herbert in Wandsworth next week, Tuesday probably, an’ my father an’ mother are goin’ to spend the day at Deacon’s Walk so’s to be there for the boys when they come in from school. And Ruby’ll need a lot o’ support when she gets back. So there won’t be anybody at Falcon Terrace, Mabel. Could yer get the afternoon off an’ come there? I’ll get a couple of hours by hook or by crook – trust me, Mabel, I wouldn’t take advantage. I only want –’
‘Not in yer parents’ home, Harry, I couldn’t. I’d be on tenterhooks all the time in case they came back. Just think, suppose we heard the key turnin’ in the lock! Remember that time when yer mother came in with Ruby an’ the boys, an’ found us asleep on the sofa? Oh, no, Harry, we couldn’t risk that again.’
‘But Mabel, my love, where else? Now ye’ve said ye’ll agree, I must have this to take to the Front with me! There’s nowhere safe I can think of –’
His voice rose in his agitation and she put a finger over his lips.
‘All right, my love, I think I can arrange it for us. I’m pretty sure I can find us the sort o’ place we want – just for a couple of hours.’
‘Where d’ye mean, dear?’
‘Maudie’s lodgin’s.’
‘Aah! I’d thought o’ there, but never could’ve asked her, ’cause of what she’d think.’
‘I know, but I’ll ask her,’ said Mabel, now quite determined.
‘It’d have to be soon, Mabel, I could be posted within a week. But thank yer. Thank yer, an’ bless yer for understandin’!’
‘Good Gawd, Mabel, yer look all in. They’re killin’ yer at that place. D’ye want a cup o’ tea or somethin’ stronger? Gin?’
Maud Ling was also showing signs of strain. Eight weeks of pantomime at the Canterbury, doing eight shows a week, making time for Alex Redfern on his brief appearances and yielding unreservedly to his demands upon her, parting with him and worrying about him until he appeared again – all this had taxed her to the limit, and now she was filling in at various music halls doing chorus work and the occasional solo spot. And she was attending auditions for the West End.
‘There’s some whackin’ great musical shows comin’ up, Mabel, Peg o’ My Heart at the Globe an’ a real bull’s-eye at His Majesty’s, sort o’ like Ali Baba an’ the forty fieves, ever such lovely songs and fabulous costumes, romance, drama, the lot. I’m goin’ for a part in it – it’s called Chu Chin Chow. Anyway, what can I do for yer?’
‘I – I don’t know how to say this, Maudie, an’ I hope yer won’t think the less o’ me for it, but – it’s to ask a favour. A big one.’
‘Yeah? Anyfing for you, Mabel. Go on.’
Mabel’s whisper was so quiet that Maud had to ask her to repeat what she’d said.
‘If Harry an’ me could come here one afternoon to be on our own, Maudie, before he gets sent to the Front. And that’ll be any day now.’
Maud drew a deep breath and her pale features softened into a half-smile, though her eyes held a strange expression. It might have been pity, Mabel thought, recognition of a common human need. Was there surprise, too?
‘This bloody war,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It brings aht the same in all of us, don’t it, gal? ‘Course yer can. When? Sat’day’d be fine, ’cause I’ll be on stage. I’ll give yer Alex’s key.’
She asked no questions and when Mabel tried to assure her that the meeting was for nothing other than privacy, Maud waved her hands in a dismissive gesture.
‘Don’t want to know. Just mind yer take care, gal.’
‘Thank yer, Maudie. I shan’t forget this. He might not ever come back again, y’see.’ It was the first time she had ever voiced this possibility.
‘Yeah, an’ ’e must be scared stiff, poor bloke, just like Alex. An’ we ’ave to do what we can for ’em, don’t we, Mabel? Nah then, that’s enough said. What abaht that bruvver o’ yours? Still ’ead over ‘eels wiv little Norah?’
When she heard that Albert and Norah were staying at Belhampton as an officially engaged couple, she clapped her hands.
‘Go on! I’m that ‘appy for ’em, Mabel, it does me ’eart good just to fink of ’em! Can’t yer just see ’im, struttin’ arahnd, prahd as a peacock, an’ ’er all smilin’ an’ shy? Yer aunts’ll take to ’er straight away, an’ Daisy’ll be chatterin’ ’er little ’ead orf.’ She grinned as a thought struck her. ‘Oho, the Lady Alice’ll be in for a big surprise, seein’ what a beauty ’er bruvver’s fahnd for ’imself, eh?’ Suddenly Maudie was grave; without her powder and rouge she looked older than her twenty-four years. ‘Gawd ’elp ’em, Mabel. Gawd ’elp all our boys an’ bring ’em back to us.’
Mabel said softly, ‘Yer know, Maudie, Albert wanted me to tell Norah about our family history, ’specially about George – but I couldn’t. It just wouldn’t come out. I told her about our grandmother, but that’s as far as I got, ’cause it just didn’t seem necessary for her to know. But it brought it all back to me, Maudie, and what a good friend yer were all through that awful time.’
‘Don’t seem to matter so much nah, does it, Mabel? Not wiv all these poor devils gettin’ blown to bits ev’ry day.’ Maud blinked away tears and reached for the bottle. ‘Don’t know abaht you, gal, but I’m ’avin’ anuvver drink.’
Mabel declined, and watched with some misgiving as Maud poured herself a generous glass and raised it to her lips. ‘Cheers, Mabel. It’s good to ’ave a friend yer can rely on. Yer meet some pretty dodgy characters in the featre, an’ I’m not in the business o’ tradin’ me favours, if yer see what I mean. Not now I got Alex.’
Mabel sensed that Maud’s life was lonely with Alex away for most of the time.
‘D’ye see much o’ Teddy these days?’ she asked. ‘Is he still at Dulwich?’
‘Comin’ up for the day on Sunday,’ answered Maud, brightening a little. ‘We’ll go up on ’Ampstead ’Eaf an’ see the sights. ’E’ll be touchin’ me for a bob or two, the cheeky little bugger,’ she added affectionately.
Maud’s picture of Albert and his Irish rose at Belhampton was not far from the reality. On her arrival Norah exclaimed at the beauty of the Hampshire countryside in spring – ‘Sure it’s as good as County Cork!’ – while the comforts of Pear Tree Cottage quite took her breath away. She had feared that she would be shy when meeting Albert’s relations, but with her darkly handsome young man at her side, now looking fit and well, she rose to the occasion and made an immediate impression on the Somertons and Miss Chalcott. If she lacked some of the social graces, she more than made up for it with her soft speech and pleasing manners.
‘There’s something very straightforward about her,’ remarked Aunt Nell to her sister.
‘And she’s had a very good influence on him,’ replied Aunt Kate approvingly. ‘He’s a changed boy – or I suppose I should say man.’
It was true. Anxious to smooth the way for Norah’s visit, Albert had behaved in an exemplary fashion during his first week at Pinehurst. The handsome family residence had changed into a nursing home with the unmistakable smell of sickness, and paradoxically Albert Court felt more at ease in it. He shared a room with two other men and cheerfully fetched and carried for them, while generally making himself useful in the house, helping to serve meals and clear away, taking men to the lavatory without fuss, listening to the stories, some of them horrific, of how they’d come by their injuries. He did not object to being treated as a batman by some of the officers who were somewhat disconcerted when they found out that he was Miss Chalcott’s nephew; it was she who told them, not Albert, who merely grinned. The
y heard a brief account of how he’d been torpedoed while in convoy, and it raised their awareness of the part being played by the merchant navy in wartime.
If he clashed with anyone, it was with his sister Alice. Her role at Pinehurst had been to put on a crisp white apron and look decorative. She gave out the mail and newspapers, arranged flowers and accepted compliments from the men. Practical care was given by a rota of local women who came in daily to help with washing and dressing, cooking the meals, taking away the bedlinen to wash and iron. Miss Chalcott was quite enjoying the challenge of running a convalescent home, and found that Albert was always ready to run errands, open and close windows, replenish the fire and push wheelchairs when Alice was nowhere to be seen. And he began to make a definite effort to improve the way he spoke.
As soon as he brought in Norah McLoughlin to meet the men, she stole all hearts, and Albert positively swelled with pride in her. A natural nurse, she at once saw what need doing, unlike Alice who had to be asked to plump up pillows, refill water jugs or hot-water bottles, put crutches and walking sticks within reach – the little details that made for the patients’ well-being.
‘Bit of a busman’s ’oliday for yer, Norah,’ remarked Albert, but she assured him that there was nothing she would rather do. Alice found herself outshone and was in any case losing her early enthusiasm for comforting the wounded. Gerald Westhouse was serving in France with the Royal Flying Corps and young Sir Guy Savage, who was still completing his training, had invited her out for a drive and to take tea with his mother and sisters at the Hall. She had not actually mentioned this to Aunt Nell who had views about what was allowable and what was not for an engaged girl, and Alice was beginning to be bored with the war. She was also tired of the fuss being made over the Irish girl, and could not understand why her uncle and aunt should entertain a native of that rebellious province which was causing England so much trouble, demanding independence right in the middle of a ghastly war.