District Nurse on Call

by Donna Douglas

‘He really is the most delightful little creature, Miss Sheridan,’ Eleanor said. ‘How old is he now?’

  ‘Nearly ten months.’ For the first time since she had come into the room, the corners of Carrie Shepherd’s mouth turned up a fraction.

  ‘He’ll be trying to talk now, I expect?’ Agnes said.

  ‘Oh, aye, he chatters all the time.’ The young woman forgot her reserve for a moment, her eyes lighting up. ‘That is to say, he’s making all sorts of noises, but I don’t think you’d call them words as such.’ She suddenly seemed to remember where she was and her mouth closed like a trap.

  ‘I shouldn’t think it will be long now before he’s speaking,’ Agnes coaxed.

  ‘Nay.’ The word escaped from between obstinately closed lips.

  ‘He’s an absolute angel,’ Eleanor enthused. ‘Such a delight. I really must come and visit him soon. Or perhaps you could bring him up to the hall?’

  ‘Aye.’ Carrie Shepherd couldn’t have looked more wretched about the idea if she had tried.

  Just then the butler arrived to announce afternoon tea was served, and they all took their places around the lace-covered table. Agnes found herself seated opposite Mrs Shepherd at the far end, while Eleanor took a seat at the other end, between her father and James Shepherd.

  Agnes noticed how animated Eleanor had become since James arrived. She was positively girlish as she poured tea for everyone. And when she passed James his cup and their hands brushed, two bright spots of colour lit up her cheeks.

  Agnes glanced at Carrie Shepherd. She was watching Eleanor and James too, but her expression gave nothing away.

  There was something about her that Agnes found highly intriguing. ‘Are you from Bowden, Mrs Shepherd?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye, I’ve lived here all my life.’ Carrie Shepherd kept her gaze fixed on the far end of the table. ‘I were brought up on Coalpit Row.’ There was a touch of defiance in her voice as she said it.

  Eleanor gave a squawk of laughter from the other end of the table and batted James playfully on the arm. Mrs Shepherd flinched and looked away.

  ‘So your father works down the mine?’ Agnes said.

  Carrie nodded. ‘He’s a deputy,’ she said proudly. ‘He were a ripper, until he got TB in his spine …’ Her voice faded.

  TB of the spine … Pott’s disease. Agnes suddenly remembered the last time she had looked into a bright blue gaze just like Mrs Shepherd’s. ‘Your father wouldn’t be Mr Wardle, by any chance?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s right.’ Carrie Shepherd looked up sharply. ‘How do you know him?’

  ‘I met him last week, when I first arrived in Bowden. He interviewed me with the rest of the Miners’ Welfare Committee.’

  Carrie Shepherd smiled. ‘Aye, that’ll be him. He’s a good man, my father. You can ask anyone in the village and they’ll tell you. He’s done a lot of good for the people here, since he took over t’Miners’ Welfare.’

  ‘Miners’ Welfare!’ Agnes hadn’t realised Sir Edward had been listening to their conversation until his voice suddenly boomed out from the other end of the table. ‘As if collecting a few pennies off the men’s wages every week makes a difference, compared to what I’ve done for the village.’

  Agnes caught the quick look that passed between James Shepherd and his wife. It was the briefest of glances, but it carried a weight of meaning.

  ‘You think the Miners’ Welfare built the school, or the reading room, or the recreation ground?’ Sir Edward blustered on. ‘No, it all came out of my pocket.’

  ‘Aye, but they’re the reason we have books in the reading room, and slates and pencils for the children,’ Carrie Shepherd murmured, so quietly only Agnes heard her.

  ‘I certainly wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them,’ Agnes replied.

  ‘In my opinion, it was a sorry day the men started organising themselves into these wretched committees and unions,’ Sir Edward went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘It wouldn’t have happened in my father’s day, that’s for sure. He would have had them all horse-whipped if they’d started talking about their rights!’

  Agnes looked across the table at Mrs Shepherd. She was staring down at the crumbled remains of a scone on her plate, her face crimson.

  Agnes decided to change the subject. ‘Actually, Sir Edward, I wanted to ask you if it would be possible for me to visit the colliery?’ she asked.

  The table went silent. Eleanor’s brows shot up to her hairline, while Dr Rutherford’s lowered into a warning frown.

  Sir Edward sat back in his seat. ‘Visit the colliery? Why ever would you want to visit Bowden Main?’

  ‘A very good question, Sir Edward,’ Dr Rutherford murmured, fiddling with his linen napkin.

  ‘I feel it would help me gain a greater understanding of the miners’ lives,’ Agnes said. ‘I’ve already seen how they live. Now I would like to understand more about their working conditions.’

  She caught Mrs Shepherd’s eye across the table. She was looking at Agnes with new interest.

  ‘Working conditions?’ Sir Edward looked suspicious. ‘I do hope you’re not going to start telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing in my own mine, Miss Sheridan? I have enough trouble with the union about that, thank you very much!’

  ‘No, indeed, Sir Edward. I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He turned to his pit manager. ‘Well, Shepherd? What do you say about it? Should we let our new nurse visit the pit?’

  James Shepherd looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not against the idea, Sir Edward, but I’m not sure if it’s the right time. Not with the situation as – unsettled – as it currently is.’

  ‘Listen to him!’ Sir Edward shook his head. ‘That’s typical of you, Shepherd, always so cautious. How many times do I have to tell you, this is all nothing more than a storm in a teacup?’

  ‘I’m not so sure, sir,’ James Shepherd said quietly. ‘The unions are quite adamant they won’t accept the new terms.’

  ‘The unions can go to hell!’ Sir Edward roared, so loudly that everyone around the table flinched and Eleanor dropped her cake fork with a clatter.

  Agnes looked at the dismayed faces around her. She had read about the dispute in the newspaper. The government wanted mine owners to impose new working conditions on their workers, to make the pits more profitable. The Miners’ Federation had until 1 May to accept the terms, or face being locked out of the pits. From the little gossip Agnes had picked up in the village whilst doing her rounds, it seemed as if the miners of Bowden were ready for a fight.

  ‘Anyway, it will all come to nothing,’ Sir Edward carried on. ‘Of course the miners will accept the new terms. They won’t want another crippling strike like the one we had five years ago. They just need time to come to their senses.’

  ‘And what if they don’t?’ Agnes asked, curious.

  Sir Edward frowned. ‘Then we’ll lock them out, of course. They’ll soon change their tune when they don’t have any wages coming in.’ He pushed his teacup across the table for his daughter to refill. ‘Of course, it doesn’t help that their leaders are making so much noise about it. Rabble-rousers and trouble-makers the lot of them, whipping up the men and making them think they can win.’

  ‘They can win.’

  Agnes looked up sharply at the sound of Carrie Shepherd’s voice. She sat across the table, her face calm. Only the bright spots of colour on her cheeks gave away her true feelings.

  Sir Edward’s cold, reptilian gaze sought her out down the length of the table. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said icily. ‘Did you say something, Mrs Shepherd?’

  Carrie turned to face him, her chin lifting.

  ‘Mr Churchill and Lady Astor might think they can push the miners about, but they are the engine room of this country and they always have been,’ she said. ‘And if they decide to down tools then the government and the mine owners will have to listen to them.’

  Sir Edward looked as if he was about to combust.
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br />   ‘More tea?’ Eleanor offered desperately, picking up the pot. Sir Edward waved it away, his eyes still fixed on Carrie.

  ‘You think they can hold us all to ransom?’ he snapped.

  ‘I’m sure they don’t want to hold anyone to ransom,’ Carrie Shepherd replied. ‘All the miners are asking for is a decent wage for what they do. Most of them are barely getting by as it is, especially when they’re put on piecework. If you try to cut their wages any more, of course they’ll want to do something about it.’

  Agnes looked at James Shepherd, staring silently down at his plate.

  Sir Edward’s lip curled. ‘You see what I mean?’ he addressed the rest of the table. ‘This is the kind of nonsense the rabble-rousers are spreading. And the men are stupid enough to listen to them.’ He turned back to Mrs Shepherd. ‘If the local men don’t want to work down our mine then I’m sure we can find many others who do,’ he said. ‘Either way, I can tell you, Mrs Shepherd, the miners won’t bring us to our knees.’

  ‘And you won’t bring us to our knees either.’

  Sir Edward gave a triumphant sneer. ‘Us? Did you hear that, Shepherd? It sounds as if your wife has already decided whose side she’s on!’

  James said nothing. He looked as if he hoped the ground might open up and swallow him.

  ‘Let’s stop all this talk, shall we?’ Eleanor’s voice was over-bright in the heavy silence that followed. ‘It’s quite spoiling a lovely afternoon.’

  Perfect hostess that she was, she had soon steered the conversation round to the more neutral topic of Dr Rutherford’s garden. But the mood around the table had already sunk too low, and it almost came as a relief when James Shepherd announced he and his wife had to go home.

  ‘Oh, must you?’ Eleanor did a good job of sounding disappointed.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Carrie doesn’t like to leave the baby for too long.’ He didn’t look at his wife as he said it.

  ‘Of course not. Well, you must come and visit again soon, Mrs Shepherd.’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’ Mrs Shepherd smiled politely. But it was clear from both women’s faces that neither of them meant it.

  The butler had barely shown them out before Sir Edward said, ‘You see? What did I tell you? I don’t know what the boy was thinking, marrying a girl like that. She scarcely knows how to behave in polite company.’

  ‘She was only offering her opinion,’ Agnes said quietly, but Sir Edward wasn’t listening.

  ‘I warned him,’ he went on. ‘I told him, a man in his position should be careful about whom he marries. He needs a wife who will support him, not drag him down.’

  ‘We can’t help who we fall in love with, Father,’ Eleanor sighed.

  ‘Love, indeed!’ Sir Edward scoffed. ‘Well, now he’s paying the price for his foolishness.’ He shook his head. ‘She’ll be the ruin of him, you mark my words.’

  James said nothing as they made their way back down the hill towards the village in the darkness, but Carrie could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on her.

  She cursed herself silently. Why did she have to open her mouth? She had promised herself she would be on her best behaviour today, for James’ sake. But Sir Edward riled her so much, it was impossible for her to stay silent.

  It was a cloudy, moonless night, and she stumbled over the uneven path, but James did not put out a hand to help her. Instead he walked on ahead, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

  Finally, Carrie couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

  ‘If you’ve got something to say to me, I’d rather you just came out and said it.’ Guilt and shame made her snap.

  ‘I think you’ve said more than enough for both of us, don’t you?’ His voice sounded weary in the darkness.

  ‘What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and listen to that old goat going on, spouting his nonsense?’

  ‘I thought you might at least try, for my sake.’

  The sadness in his voice piqued her.

  ‘I did try,’ Carrie protested. ‘I said nothing when he was going on about the Miners’ Welfare, boasting about everything he’d done for the village. But when he started insulting the people I’ve grown up with, well – I couldn’t just sit there and say nowt.’

  ‘Obviously,’ James said.

  Carrie turned on him. ‘I never wanted to go in the first place,’ she reminded him. ‘I told you it wasn’t a good idea. But you would insist.’

  She been brought up to hate the Haverstocks and everything they stood for. Growing up in the rows, Carrie had lived in the shadow of the big house, as they all called it. She had never dreamed a day would ever come when she would be invited there.

  But now she was married to James, and the Haverstocks were part of his life. She should have made more effort. She should have tried harder.

  Carrie turned to him in the darkness. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you, honestly.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m sure Sir Edward will get over it. It might do him good to have someone disagreeing with him for a change.’

  Carrie looked at her husband, trying to make out his angular features. James would never be foolish enough to argue with the pit owner, that was for sure.

  ‘He doesn’t like me, does he?’ she said.

  ‘I rather got the impression the feeling was mutual?’

  ‘Aye, it is. The pompous old windbag!’ She shot him a sideways look. ‘He thinks you could have done better for thysen.’

  ‘Well, I don’t. And that’s all that matters.’

  They trudged on in silence for a few moments. ‘You could, though,’ she said. ‘If you’d married Miss Eleanor like you were supposed to.’

  He sighed. ‘Not this again!’

  ‘I mean it, James. She’s more your kind. She’d never let you down or embarrass you, like I do.’

  It was what everyone had expected. Everyone knew Sir Edward looked on James as his son after his own boys were killed in the war. He might even have inherited the Haverstock mining fortune, if he had had the good sense to marry into the family as he was supposed to.

  But instead he had chosen Carrie Wardle.

  ‘You could have been rich, if you’d played your cards right,’ she said.

  ‘I’d rather have you and Henry.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  James stopped in his tracks. ‘How many more times do I have to say it?’ He sighed. ‘I would never want to marry Eleanor Haverstock, any more than she would want to marry me. She’s like my sister.’

  Carrie smiled. ‘Oh, James! You know, for a clever man, you can be very dense sometimes. Anyone can see Eleanor Haverstock’s besotted with you.’

  Carrie didn’t mind, because she felt sorry for her. For all her wealth, she knew poor Eleanor must have a lonely life, stuck in that miserable house with her monstrous father. Who was Carrie to begrudge her a little harmless flirting, if it made her feel better?

  James looked startled. ‘Do you think so?’ He pretended to consider it. ‘I had no idea. Oh, but this changes everything! Goodness, what an idiot I’ve been. I must go straight back to Haverstock Hall and start wooing her immediately.’

  He made to turn round, but Carrie reached for his arm.

  ‘Too late!’ she laughed. ‘You’re mine now.’

  ‘So I am.’ He paused, then said, ‘You don’t regret ending up with me, do you?’

  She looked up at him, making out the sharp planes and angles of his face in the darkness. She couldn’t see the expression in his eyes, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

  He was thinking about Rob. Neither of them ever mentioned him by name, but he was always there, lingering between them.

  If Rob hadn’t gone, then perhaps both their lives would have been very different.

  A chill breeze whispered over Carrie’s skin, making her shiver. James immediately took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

  The tender gesture made her think of th
e day when he had found her outside the pit gates, crying in the rain after Rob had gone. He hadn’t said a word, but he had taken off his jacket and put it round her shoulders then. She remembered looking up at him, the rain soaking through his shirt and plastering his hair to his face, and truly seeing him for the first time. Not the shy, awkward pit manager, but a kind, loving man who wanted to take care of her.

  That was the day Carrie began to fall in love with him.

  She smiled up at him. ‘Of course I don’t regret it.’

  ‘Then that makes two of us.’ She heard the relief in his voice as he put his arm around her.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Pay attention please, children. This is Miss Sheridan, the school nurse. She has come to inspect you all.’

  Fifty small, round faces gawped up at Agnes as she stood at the front of the high-ceilinged classroom beside the teacher, Miss Warren. It was not a promising sight. Even from where she stood, she could make out rows of reddened, runny noses, sore eyes and scabbed mouths. A couple were scratching their heads. Even so, Agnes tried to smile at them in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. They all stared blankly back.

  It was her first visit to Bowden Main School, although she had passed the grey-stone building with its squat bell tower and gabled roof many times since she had arrived in the village three weeks earlier. She often heard the sound of the children’s voices ringing out from within, singing a hymn or reciting their times tables, and she had seen them running around the playground, playing their lively games as she had gone about her rounds.

  The headmaster, Mr Hackett, had reacted with some dismay when Agnes presented herself in his office at ten-thirty that morning.

  ‘Oh, is it today you’re supposed to be coming? I’m sure I had it written in my diary for next week.’ He searched his untidy desk, shifting papers aside. He was a slightly built, nervous-looking man, bespectacled, with thinning, ashy brown hair.

  Agnes watched him shuffling papers around for a moment, fighting to keep her patience. ‘I definitely have it in my diary for this morning,’ she said.

  ‘Have you? Oh, well, I daresay you’re right. I can never keep track of these things.’ He squinted at her through his thick spectacles. ‘So, how do these things work, do you know? We’ve never had a nurse come round before.’ Then, before Agnes could reply, he went on, ‘I’ll tell you what, why don’t you speak to Miss Warren? I expect she’ll know what to do with you.’