by Maggie Hope
Ada stepped back again, ready to run for the door if he touched her but they were interrupted by someone knocking.
‘Yes? Who is it? I’m busy,’ Ada called, albeit shakily.
‘It’s only me, Matron. Cook was wondering if you would have a word with her about the menu for dinner tonight,’ Millie answered.
‘Tell her I’ll be down directly,’ said Ada. She faced Tom again apprehensively, keeping by the door, just in case. ‘I have to get back to my work,’ she said to him.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m going, and I don’t care if I never see you again. I wish I’d never seen you in the first place.’
She opened the door and stood with her head bowed, waiting for him to go. He paused as he got to her.
‘This is the end, of course. You can go to your Canadian. As soon as the war is over I’ll apply for a divorce.’
Ada was startled. ‘But what about your practice?’
Tom laughed harshly, joylessly. ‘No one will blame me, Ada, not after what you have done. Things are altogether different now. And I will not do the supposed decent thing, you’re not worth it, Ada. No, you and your Johnny will have to bear the consequences yourselves.’
He went off down the stairs and Ada listened to his footsteps fading away, out of my life, she thought dully, out of my life. And slowly, deep within her, she began to realise she was free, or she would be as soon as Tom got his divorce. What Tom didn’t realise was that Johnny was worth any price to her, any price at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ada tidied herself up and went downstairs to relieve her deputy, feeling strangely calm and in control of herself. Oh, Tom had hurt her when he ranted and raved at her, all her old feelings of worthlessness had come to the fore. But only for a little while. For the first time she found she could actually shrug off those feelings which had haunted her since childhood; nothing anyone could say to her now could make her feel dirty or inferior ever again. For Johnny loved her and he wouldn’t if she wasn’t worthy of his love, she knew it. She had been a victim, that was all, a victim of circumstances, and no one had the right to look down on her or call her names. She felt quite light-hearted as she crossed the hall to check on the patients in the garden.
‘Everything all right, Matron?’
Ada turned as Sister came out of the second ward and called after her. The other woman’s face was alive with curiosity. Had all the staff been talking about her behind her back? Ada wondered, then dismissed it from her mind; it didn’t matter any more, it didn’t matter at all.
‘Everything’s fine, Sister,’ Ada answered. ‘You can go off duty now if you wish. Thank you for relieving me.’
Outside on the lawn, Private Holmes was still sitting on the bench. He was talking to a young VAD who sprang up as Ada approached. Ada almost sent the girl about her duties but she paused; after all, they weren’t very busy and she could give a hand with the teas herself. For Private Holmes to take an interest in girls his own age was the best thing that could happen, it showed he was well on the way to recovery. So she simply smiled at them and went round to see the other patients.
Back in the hall, the afternoon post had arrived. She glanced through the official mail – notification of new admissions, letters of discharge for those unable to fight again and postings for those ready to go back to the front. Beneath them were two personal letters for her. Eagerly she scanned them – was one from Johnny? Her heart quickened momentarily but slowed again as she failed to see his handwriting.
One was from Eliza – well, that was lovely; Eliza might not be the best speller in the world but she wrote a nice, gossipy letter. The other had a London postmark and the handwriting was completely strange to her.
Well, she hadn’t time to read them now, she thought and pushed them under the bib of her apron. Now she had to give out the post to the men and attend to the new-admissions sheet. For the next few weeks things would be busy as they always were when one batch of soldiers was well enough to leave and another lot of wounded came.
Later in the evening, Ada was writing up the report for the night nurses, detailing each patient, how they were and if their medicine had been changed by the doctor who had been round that day. She would be glad to get upstairs to her own little place, she thought; just as well to have a good night’s rest for the new-admission sheet was long, the little convalescent home would be quite full.
Ada hesitated and turned back to the morning’s report from Nurse Simpson, who had been the night nurse in charge the night before, as a thought flashed into her mind.
Of course! She should have realised immediately who it was that had written the letter to Tom. Even though some attempt had been made to disguise the writing, there was no mistaking the peculiar curl Nurse Simpson gave to the hooks of her Gs. Ada sat back in her chair, remembering. Nurse Simpson had been on duty on the night that Johnny came, she remembered it now.
Ada didn’t even feel angry with her; she didn’t know why but she didn’t. After all, the girl was doing her duty as she saw it by a soldier at the front. It simply wasn’t worth the aggravation of making a fuss.
When Nurse Simpson came on duty Ada didn’t give any hint at all that she knew about the letter even though the nurse was red-faced and apprehensive. Ada was amused as she saw it; Nurse Simpson must have heard of Tom’s calling to see her.
‘I’ll be in my rooms if you need me, Nurse,’ she said coolly, leaving the girl to stare after her as she went upstairs. Ada was grinning mischievously as she got to her door. She made herself a cup of tea, singing, ‘O, tell me pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you?’ She hadn’t thought of that old song for years – why on earth had it come back to her now?
Sitting down on the sofa with her tea, Ada took a sip and sighed luxuriously. This was the best part of the day, when she could close her door and be on her own, put her feet up if she wanted to, do what she liked. She put the cup down and drew out the letters from the bib of her apron. Eliza’s she would save for later on, she thought; first she was curious about the other, the one with the London postmark.
Ada read the signature first, a Mrs A. Carr. Carr? She didn’t know anyone by the name of Carr, no one at all. Mystified, she began to read.
‘Dear Lorinda,’ Ada sat forward in shock – Lorinda? No one called her Lorinda, no one but Johnny. Had something happened to Johnny, was this someone writing to tell her? She closed her eyes tightly, she hardly could bear to read on. But read on she had to do.
Dear Lorinda,
How are you? I can’t tell you how surprised I was when I saw your advertisement in the paper. I was going to write to you straight away but then I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would come to see you, but I’m afraid I can’t afford the train fare. I’m on my own now, I’m in real trouble, if you knew how I’d been let down by everybody you would be so sorry for me. I know I don’t deserve anything from you, I left you with my mam and all, but believe me, you were better off with her than with me. I’ve had a hard life, Lorinda, a really hard life. If I could only tell you about it. Please write back to me, you’re all I have in the world now.
That was all, apart from the signature. Ada stared at it, unable to take it in at first. Her mother! It was from her mother! After all these years her mother had written to her. Mechanically, Ada took up her cup and drank the tea, and the letter fell to the floor.
Ada bent down and picked it up. She must be mistaken, it couldn’t be from her mother. She read it through again. But it was months since she had written to the papers. How was it that her mother had just seen it now. Why hadn’t she written before?
What a day it had been, what a mixed-up, momentous day! Ada put down the letter and took her cup into the kitchen, rinsing it under the tap, and drying it and putting it into the cupboard. She folded the cloth carefully and hung it over the rail. And then she cried.
Going back to the sitting room Ada read the letter again. Her poor mother, she thought, she had had a hard time by th
e sound of it. And what had happened to her husband? She must have been married, that would be why she had a different name. He must have died and left her mother a widow, that would be it.
Well, Ada decided, she couldn’t leave her mother in want. She had saved a modest sum of money and she barely touched her salary from the Hall. Ada was naturally frugal after her strict upbringing and all her living expenses were catered for by the convalescent home. She rose to her feet and walked to and fro, so excited she couldn’t sit still.
She would invite her mother to stay, that was what she would do. She could have her to stay with her in the flat, for a short while at least. First thing in the morning she would go to the post office and get a postal order for the fare to Durham, plus a little extra just in case. She’d write the letter now, that would be best. Ada got out her writing paper and envelopes and composed a short letter to her mother. She felt very strange indeed as she began with ‘Dear Mother’, the very first time she had done so in her life.
When she had finished it, Ada picked up the other letter. Eliza had important news, too, Ada saw as she read the letter. Eliza was definitely going to marry her Emmerson Peart. Ada had a few misgivings when she read this; perhaps she should have paid more attention when Eliza was first telling her about him.
Ada put down the letter and thought about it. Was Eliza doing the right thing? In the letter she was full of what Emmerson could do for her boys: let them stay on at school, get them good apprenticeships.
‘He’s comfortably off,’ Eliza wrote. ‘We will be all right with him.’
No mention of loving him, thought Ada. But then, Eliza was not a girl to show her feelings; perhaps she did love him. Sighing, Ada decided to try to see Eliza, the first chance she got.
The chance came two weeks later. It was Ada’s free afternoon and Eliza had written saying she would come to see her. The two girls sat in an area of the garden secluded from the patients and had a chat. Ada lost no time in coming to the point.
‘Are you sure, Eliza? I mean, do you love him?’
Eliza nodded slowly. ‘I do, I think. Oh, not like I loved my Bert, I couldn’t love anyone like I did my Bert. Don’t worry, Ada, I’m right, I know I am. Now, tell me all your news.’
Ada gazed at her friend. Indeed, Eliza wore an air of serenity and well being which suited her, so perhaps it was the right thing for her; in any case, she’d made up her mind. Ada returned to her own news with an excited smile.
‘Oh, Eliza, what do you think? My mother wrote to me. She’s coming here next week.’
‘Oh, Ada, I’m so pleased. So she answered one of your notices in the papers, did she? That’s grand.’
They chatted on about Ada’s mother and Auntie Doris for a while and then sat quietly, gazing out over the garden. In the distance, behind the house, they could hear the murmur of voices as the nurses came out to take the non-walking wounded in for tea. Ada was thinking of Johnny and on impulse she decided to confide in her friend.
‘I didn’t tell you, Eliza, I didn’t know what you’d think. But Johnny came to see me.’
‘Johnny? Johnny Fenwick, do you mean? Eeh, Ada!’
‘Yes.’
Eliza stood up. ‘I’ll have to get the train, I’ve the bairns to meet. Can you walk along o’ me?’
Ada nodded and the two girls fell into step. At the road end, they caught a bus to the station.
‘Howay then, tell me,’ Eliza demanded as soon as they were on their way.
‘You mean about Johnny?’
‘You know full well I mean about Johnny!’
So Ada told the story of Johnny’s coming to seek her out. Holding nothing back, she told her that he had stayed the night and how he wanted her to wait for him and go back to Canada with him. She watched her friend’s face anxiously, wondering if she was shocked at hearing Ada had spent the night with someone other than her husband. If she was, Eliza showed no signs of it.
‘Eeh, Ada, fancy him coming back after all that time! Why didn’t he come back sooner, do you think?’
And Ada told her about his coming to Durham so long ago and how Virginia had put him off.
‘I never liked that girl,’ Eliza said, rather vehemently for her, and Ada remembered how Virginia had treated Eliza at the wedding. Virginia had done her best to make Eliza feel like a servant among her betters, that was true. And maybe she herself could have stuck up for Eliza better.
‘I’m sorry I let her be unkind to you,’ she said humbly.
‘Eeh, no, I didn’t care about that, it was the way she talked to you, Ada, that’s what upset me, like,’ Eliza declared.
The bus got to the station. Bye, but it had been lovely, though. Lovely to see Eliza happy too, without that air of tiredness and worry about her, Ada mused. They went through to the platform; there was about a quarter of an hour to wait for the train.
‘Let’s stay out here, eh?’ Eliza suggested. So they stood on the platform and Ada told Eliza again about Johnny and what she knew of his life in Canada.
‘He’s got his own business now, a steelworks in Toronto,’ she said proudly. Now she was actually talking about Johnny she found she couldn’t stop. ‘He’s so handsome in his uniform, Eliza, he is. And he wants me to go to Canada with him, when the war is over, that is.’
Eliza nodded in understanding, though she said nothing. The train steamed into the station and she kissed Ada goodbye and climbed aboard, waving through the window to her.
‘I’ll come to see you when I can,’ Ada cried. ‘Give my love to Bertie and Miles.’
Afterwards, Ada went down the hill to the bus, feeling happy and relaxed. She had told Eliza about Johnny and Eliza hadn’t been disapproving at all. In fact she had listened eagerly, and Ada was sure Eliza had been pleased for her. Eliza was fond of her, she wanted her to be happy, Ada knew that.
As Ada climbed down from the bus and started the walk up the drive, she began to feel a little less sure that Eliza had been pleased for her; after all, she hadn’t said much about it. Maybe she had been wondering what she was going to do about her marriage to Tom, what Tom would think about it. For Ada had not told her that Tom knew all about Johnny, or that he threatened to divorce her. A cold wind had sprung up and Ada shivered as she let herself in the front door of the Hall.
‘Matron?’
Ada turned to the desk as Sister looked up and spoke to her. ‘Yes, is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘No, not wrong, I just wanted to warn you that you had a visitor.’
‘A visitor? Oh, thank you, Sister.’
Ada fairly flew up the stairs. Had Johnny come back already? She couldn’t think of anyone else who would come to see her. Her mother wasn’t due until the next week.
She opened her door with trembling fingers and rushed into the sitting room, stopping dead in the doorway. There was someone on the sofa but the hair was greyish-black, not red. And it was a woman, not a man, a woman with a glass in her hand. There was a smell of gin in the air as the woman raised her glass to her, twisting in her seat to face her.
‘Hello, Lorinda,’ she said.
Lorinda? Ada stared at the woman who was sitting there smiling at her, a broad smile which showed an uneven set of teeth between bright-red lips. It took a minute or two for it to sink in that this was Mrs Carr, her own mother. It had to be, for who else would call her Lorinda except Johnny?
Chapter Twenty-Five
As Ada walked slowly forward, the woman stood up; they halted, facing each other. They were about the same height and build, and both had the same striking violet-coloured eyes, but there the resemblance ended.
‘Give your mam a kiss then.’ Mrs Carr held out her arms and after only a split second, Ada leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. The older woman was not satisfied. She clutched at Ada, wrapping her thin arms round her; to Ada she felt as though she was all wrinkled skin and bones.
She could smell the gin on her mother’s breath; distractedly she wondered where she had got it from.
Close to, she saw that the high colour on the raddled cheeks was rouge which did not entirely disguise the broken veins beneath it. Ada drew away and her smile was wobbly as she tried to control the turmoil of emotion which was churning up her stomach.
‘Mam?’
‘That I am, lass.’
The traces of local accent and idiom still showed through in Mrs Carr’s speech, strangely overridden with the twang of cockney.
‘Bye,’ Mrs Carr went on, ‘what a carry-on I had getting here, I didn’t know you lived out in the wilds like this. And I had to find my own way from the station, that girl downstairs had to pay the cabman. I told her you’d give it to her. And I come home after all this time and you’re not even here, where’ve you been? I’m dying for a cup of tea, an’ all.’
‘I’ll make one right away,’ said Ada, feeling dazed. ‘I wasn’t expecting you till next week or I wouldn’t have gone out. I meant to meet you at Durham Station and bring you here.’
‘I’m used to fending for myself, goodness knows, I’ve had to do it long enough. But I thought, why wait till next week, I’ll go now and surprise Lorinda. I was dying for a drink, though, when I got here, where do you keep it? I couldn’t find any anywhere. It’s a good job I had my travelling bottle with me.’
Ada moved into the kitchen, filled the kettle and placed it on the gas ring, her mind in a whirl. Her mother followed her, looking round with a critical eye.
‘Mind, this is a poky place, isn’t it? I reckoned anyone with such a good job as you have, Matron like, would at least have a proper gas stove and everything. And married to a doctor, eh?’
‘I get my meals downstairs in the nurses’ dining room, I just make the odd snack or cup of tea up here,’ Ada replied, rather defensively. She ignored the reference to her marriage, she couldn’t go into that now.
The kettle boiled and Ada mashed the tea. She got down a tin of shortbread and arranged some on a plate, all without looking directly at her mother.