District Nurse on Call

by Donna Douglas

  Carrie held her breath, certain she would be seen. But a moment later the curtain was lowered again, blocking out the light.

  She paused to gather her nerve, then moved quickly forward and dumped the sack down on the Tollers’ doorstep, then scurried away, back into the shadows. When she was safely on the other side of the yard she risked a glance back, but no more curtains twitched, and the row of houses slumbered in silence.

  Carrie smiled to herself, wondering how Susan would react when she found the things on her doorstep. If nothing else, she could always pawn the clothes to make some money. And the food would come in useful, too. Carrie had been careful not to take too much, in case the maid noticed and started asking awkward questions in front of James.

  It was nearly eleven o’clock and there was no moon over Bowden Main, but the late hour and the deep darkness held no fears for Carrie as she made her way home. She knew the village rows too well to be afraid. Besides, she could hear the murmuring voices of the special constables patrolling the pit yard, and see the occasional flash of their lamps in the darkness.

  As she skirted the pit yard, heading towards the gates, she heard a scuffle, and caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye as a dark shape slipped into the shadows to one side of her.

  She froze, looking around her. She had passed the specials in the pit yard, so she knew it couldn’t be them.

  Her legs twitched, ready to run, but she made herself stand her ground.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she whispered, her voice trembling in the still night air.

  There was a scuffling sound, this time behind her. Carrie swung round to face it, her hands balling into fists, ready to defend herself.

  ‘Keep your voice down, for pity’s sake,’ a voice hissed in the darkness. ‘Do you want to bring the specials running?’

  Carrie’s heart did a somersault in her chest at the sound of that voice.

  ‘Rob?’ She squinted into the shadows. ‘Is that you?’

  The next moment a dark shape detached itself from the shadows. Carrie couldn’t make out his features, but she would have known him anywhere.

  ‘Carrie Wardle,’ he said. ‘Now what are you doing, wandering the streets at this time of night?’

  ‘I might ask you the same question!’ she retorted. Then the answer occurred to her. ‘You’re not – surely you’re not intending to steal coal?’

  ‘As if I would!’ Rob’s tone was mocking. ‘I’m out here taking the fresh air, just like you.’

  ‘Liar.’ Carrie glanced over her shoulder, into the darkness. ‘You ought to be careful,’ she said. ‘You don’t want Sergeant Cray to catch you.’

  ‘Sergeant Cray couldn’t catch a cold! Remember how he used to chase us for scrumping apples? The big windbag used to be out of breath before he got to the end of the road!’

  ‘All the same, you ought to watch thysen,’ Carrie said. ‘You don’t want to end up in jail like Matthew Toller, do you?’

  ‘Why, Carrie Wardle, I didn’t know you cared!’

  ‘I don’t,’ Carrie snapped. ‘And it’s Mrs Shepherd to you,’ she added.

  ‘How could I forget?’ His voice was soft in the darkness. ‘Does your husband know you’re out so late?’

  Carrie lifted her chin. ‘It’s no concern of yours if he does or he doesn’t.’

  ‘I’d take better care of you if you were my wife.’ Before Carrie had a chance to react, someone whistled in the darkness. ‘That’s Archie,’ Rob said. ‘He must have found a way in through the fence. I’d best go.’

  ‘Be—’ Be careful, Carrie started to say, then stopped herself. ‘Don’t blame me if you get locked up,’ she muttered instead.

  She stood rooted to the spot long after Rob had disappeared into the darkness. She knew she had to get used to seeing him around the village, but it still gave her a shock.

  She started back up the lane, but had not gone very far before the harsh blast of a police whistle stopped her in her tracks. It was followed a few seconds later by the sound of shouting and footsteps behind her, running down the lane in the direction Rob had taken only a few moments before …

  ‘Help!’ she screamed out without thinking. She heard the footsteps change direction, there was a flash of light and then two young constables appeared out of the darkness, barrelling down the lane towards her.

  ‘Mrs Shepherd?’ One of them stopped in front of her, fighting for breath. ‘What the—?’

  ‘I’ve just seen two men, running out of the pit gates,’ Carrie interrupted him. ‘They pushed past me and went down that way.’ She pointed back towards the lower rows.

  ‘Two men, you say?’ One of the constables held up his lamp, peering into the shadows.

  ‘Yes, and they went that way.’ Carrie pointed in the opposite direction from the one Rob had taken.

  ‘Did you get a look at their faces?’

  Carrie shook her head. ‘It was too dark, and it all happened too fast,’ she said. ‘But they were definitely going towards the pit cottages.’

  ‘Are you sure? Only Constable Lloyd thought he heard someone getting through the fence up there—’

  ‘I’m telling you, they pushed past me!’ Carrie cut him off. ‘If you run, you might be able to catch up with them.’

  The constables looked at each other for a moment, and Carrie held her breath. Then they both ran off in the direction of the cottages.

  Carrie watched them until they had disappeared out of sight. When she was satisfied they had gone far enough in the wrong direction, she headed home.

  The following morning, they had just finished breakfast when Sergeant Cray arrived.

  ‘Hello, Sergeant,’ James greeted him, with a weary smile. ‘Are you here with another report for me?’

  ‘Actually, sir, it’s your wife I’ve come to see.’

  ‘Me?’ Carrie’s heart lurched into her throat.

  ‘My specials told me you saw two men breaking in to the pit yard last night?’

  She was guiltily aware of James looking at her. ‘Is this true, Carrie? You didn’t say anything about it last night?’

  ‘There was nothing to tell.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t really see anything.’

  ‘But Constable Lloyd reckons you saw them running away, out of the pit gates?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Yet when my men went to look, they couldn’t find anyone.’

  ‘Then they must already have got away.’

  ‘They couldn’t have got away that fast, carrying sacks of coal. And the pit gates were locked.’

  Now they were both staring at her. Carrie forced herself to meet the policeman’s sceptical gaze.

  ‘Then I must have been mistaken,’ she said.

  ‘But while my men were sent on a wild goose chase, the real thieves managed to get in and out through a hole in the fence on the other side of the yard. Strange, don’t you think?’

  ‘What exactly are you trying to say, Sergeant?’ James’ voice was cordial, but with an underlying note of steel Carrie had rarely heard in it before.

  Sergeant Cray obviously hadn’t heard it before either. He looked taken aback. ‘Nothing, sir.’

  ‘Really? Because it sounds as if you’re accusing my wife of something.’

  Sergeant Cray cleared his throat. ‘Not at all, sir.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. If you intend to take anyone to task, I suggest you start with the two constables who allowed these thieves to steal from under their noses.’

  A dull flush spread over Sergeant Cray’s face. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said gruffly.

  Henry started to cry and Carrie hurried to attend to him, relieved for the chance to escape. She was too overcome with guilt to look at either the sergeant or James at that moment.

  She was changing the baby’s nappy in the nursery when James came in. Carrie kept her attention focused on Henry, conscious all the time of her husband watching her.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me what happened last night?’ he s
aid.

  Carrie stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Running into those men. It must have been utterly terrifying for you.’

  Relief flooded through her. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, it all happened so fast, I hardly knew about it until it was all over.’

  She felt his hands press lightly on her shoulders. ‘All the same, I wish you’d allowed me to come and meet you. I don’t like to think of you being out on your own after dark, especially with all this business going on.’

  I’d take better care of you if you were my wife. Carrie closed her eyes, trying to push Rob’s words out of her head.

  ‘There’s no need to worry about me, honestly. I grew up here, I have nothing to fear from a couple of local lads—’

  She closed her mouth like a trap, but she felt James’ hands tighten on her shoulders.

  ‘How do you know they were local?’ he said. ‘I thought you told Sergeant Cray you didn’t see their faces?’

  Carrie went back to pinning Henry’s nappy, hoping her husband wouldn’t notice her hands shaking. ‘I just thought they must be from round here,’ she said lightly. ‘I mean, who else would come to Bowden, looking to steal coal?’

  It was a long time before James spoke. ‘Who indeed?’ he said finally.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Agnes had grown to dread Friday afternoons.

  Sitting alone in the hall at the Miners’ Welfare Institute, surveying the rows of empty chairs in front of her – not so many now, she had learned her lesson after that first week – she would listen to the ponderous ticking of the clock, willing the hands to inch around to half-past three, when she could pack everything away again and the agony would be over for another week.

  She knew she should give up. It was her fourth clinic, and not a soul had come in all those weeks. Apart from Carrie Shepherd, who turned up in a show of loyalty that somehow made Agnes feel even more of a failure.

  Dr Rutherford had hardly been able to disguise his satisfaction.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ he had said. ‘These people will never appreciate you, no matter what you do. Might as well give it up, my dear.’

  It was his words, as well as her own stubborn streak, that kept Agnes turning up at the Welfare Institute every week, setting up the chairs and putting out her screens and scales.

  At the end of the passage, she could hear the women laughing as they went about their work in the soup kitchen. It was three o’clock and the children would be coming out of school now, making their way up the lane for their only meal of the day.

  The rich scent of frying onions drifted through the open double doors, making her stomach groan. She hoped Jinny had remembered to leave her something to eat before she started on the afternoon rounds.

  The sudden sound of a shower of gravel rattling against the window shook Agnes out of her reverie. She started to her feet in surprise, just as another missile came sailing through the open window, landing inches from where she had been sitting.

  Agnes stared down at the jagged rock at her feet, too shocked to move for a moment, until a shout of laughter from outside galvanised her. She rushed outside, squinting in the bright sunshine, just in time to see a group of boys running up the road.

  ‘Come back!’ Agnes called after them. ‘You could have hurt someone—’

  ‘Oi, miss!’

  Before she had time to react, a hand reached up and snatched the cap from her head, wrenching it free of its pins and making her yelp in pain.

  Agnes swung round and found herself staring into the insolent, smirking face of a dark-haired boy. Christopher Stanhope. He and his tearaway friends always seemed to be hanging around the village these days, jeering at her as she cycled past.

  He twirled her cap in his grubby fingers, just out of her reach.

  ‘Give me that back,’ Agnes said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.

  ‘Shan’t.’

  ‘It doesn’t belong to you.’

  ‘It does now.’ He took off his cap and put hers on instead, striking a comical pose. ‘Don’t you think it suits me?’

  ‘Give it back!’ Agnes made a grab for it but Christopher was too quick for her. His skinny body ducked out of reach.

  ‘How much will you give me for it?’ he demanded.

  Agnes stared at him. ‘I’m not giving you anything. You’re lucky I don’t go and fetch a policeman.’

  ‘Give me sixpence or I’ll set fire to it.’

  Agnes gasped. ‘You little—’

  ‘Give it back to her, Chris.’

  Over his shoulder Agnes saw little Elsie Stanhope standing in the middle of the lane, dressed in her school pinafore. She was regarding her brother with weary resignation, as if she was used to his silly games.

  Christopher glared at his sister mutinously. ‘Go away, Elsie,’ he growled, but the little girl stood her ground.

  ‘You don’t want to upset Dad again, do you?’

  Her words caught him off guard for a moment. Agnes seized her chance and made another lunge for the cap, but Christopher quickly recovered himself, jerking it out of her grasp.

  ‘You want it, you fetch it!’

  He flung the cap into the air, sending it spinning skywards. For a moment the three of them stood still, watching it sailing up into the clear blue sky before it came down on the edge of the Institute roof.

  Christopher’s face broke into a grin of delight, and a moment later he sprinted off up the lane after his friends, laughing wildly.

  Agnes stood looking up at her cap, which was hanging from the guttering.

  ‘How on earth am I supposed to get that down?’

  ‘I’ll help you, miss.’

  She hadn’t realised she had spoken her thoughts aloud until she looked down and saw Elsie standing beside her, gazing up at her with a sweet, honest face that was very different from her brother’s.

  ‘Please, miss,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for what our Chris did, and I’d like to help if I can?’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Agnes started to say, but Elsie was already walking away from her, wiping her hands on her pinafore.

  ‘Look, I can easily get up this drainpipe …’ She pulled on it to test if it would hold her weight. A moment later, she was shinning up the pipe like a little monkey, her patched-up boots scrabbling for a foothold in the brickwork.

  ‘Really, I don’t think it’s safe.’ Agnes stood below, wringing her hands. ‘Please come down, before you—’

  A shower of red dust and fragments of mortar came down, filling her eyes and mouth and making her cough. There was an ominous creaking sound as the drainpipe came away from the crumbling brickwork. Elsie let out a scream, and the next moment she had landed on the cobbles at Agnes’ feet.

  She had only fallen a short distance, but she had landed heavily. For a second Agnes held her breath, unable to move until the girl finally stirred, groaning with pain.

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ Agnes rushed over to her. ‘Are you all right? No, don’t try to move. I need to check if you’ve broken any bones.’

  ‘I – I think I’m all right. Just winded, that’s all.’

  ‘All the same, I’d better check. Lie still for me, ducks.’

  Elsie remained motionless while Agnes checked her limbs. The girl stared up at her with wide, trusting eyes. She looked as if she was doing her best not to cry.

  ‘Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything broken, which is good news. Did you hit your head?’

  ‘I don’t know … I don’t think so.’ Elsie looked mournfully at her dress. ‘I’ve ripped my pinafore. Aunt Hannah’s going to thrash me.’

  ‘Dresses can soon be sewn up,’ Agnes said briskly. ‘Besides, I’m sure your aunt will just be glad you weren’t badly hurt. Now, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?’

  Finally, Agnes had satisfied herself that Elsie was suffering from nothing more than skinned hands and knees.

  ‘Come inside with me and I’ll clean you up and
put a dressing on.’

  Elsie looked reluctant. ‘I dunno … Aunt Hannah won’t like it.’

  ‘Aunt Hannah doesn’t have to know, does she?’ Agnes thought for a moment. ‘I’ll just clean the dirt out of those cuts. And I think I might have some sewing thread and a needle in my bag. We could sew up the tear in your dress?’

  Finally she managed to coax Elsie into the hall. She sat quietly at Agnes’ table at the front of the room, looking around her at the rows of empty chairs as Agnes set about collecting a bowl of boiled water, swabs and antiseptic dressings.

  ‘How will you get your hat down?’ the child asked finally, looking worried.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something. I daresay one of the men will put up a ladder and get it down for me later.’

  Elsie paused, taking it in. ‘I’m sorry … about what Christopher did.’

  ‘You’re not the one who should be apologising.’

  ‘Christopher never says sorry for owt.’ Elsie bit her lip. ‘I’ll have a word with him. Tell him to stop making a nuisance of himself.’

  Much good that will do you, Agnes thought. But she knew Elsie was trying to help, so she smiled and said, ‘Thank you, I’d be very grateful.’

  ‘You won’t tell our dad, will you?’

  Agnes looked over at Elsie’s round, earnest face. A pair of anxious grey eyes met hers.

  ‘No,’ she said. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. And the last thing she needed was to face Seth Stanhope again. Really, he was as ignorant as his son in his own way. No wonder Christopher had turned out the way he had.

  Elsie’s shoulders slumped. ‘Thank you.’ She paused, then said, ‘Christopher don’t mean any harm really. He’s just run a bit wild since our mother died.’

  Agnes glanced at her again, feeling a pang of pity. Elsie was ten years old, but she had a wise old head on her young shoulders. She pitied the poor motherless girl, living in such a family. The closest thing she had to a mother was Hannah Arkwright, God help her.