by Maggie Hope
‘Matron, there’s someone wanting you on the telephone,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Millie.’ Ada rose and put on her cap, going over in her mind where she could put any extra patients. For that would be the only reason for a telephone call, she thought. So she was taken completely by surprise when the voice coming over the line, though sounding very tinny, was unmistakably Johnny’s.
‘Lorinda? Are you there, Lorinda?’
‘Johnny!’
‘Lorinda, my love, listen, I’m back in Blighty for a few days, can you come?’
‘Come?’
‘Yes, come to London. Oh, Lorinda, we might not get a chance like this again for months. Say you’ll come, please say you’ll come. Come for the weekend, I’ll meet you at King’s Cross on Saturday – Lorinda?’
Ada’s legs felt suddenly weak, she sat down abruptly.
‘Lorinda? Are you there?’
‘Yes … yes, I’m here.’
Ada’s mind was beginning to work at a furious pace. She had some time off due to her, so she could go to him, she would have to organise it but she could do it.
‘I’ll come,’ she said.
It was just as well that there were no seriously ill patients that evening, for this was one time when Ada’s mind was definitely not on her work. It was Thursday already and she had a lot to do, a lot to arrange, but she would do it. She could still hear Johnny’s voice in her ear as he assured her he loved her, promising to meet the five-o’clock train into King’s Cross. They would be together again. Was it all a dream, was she going to wake up and find it wasn’t true?
Ada walked by the hall table later and saw there was another letter to her, which she hadn’t noticed earlier in the excitement of finding the one from Johnny. She picked it up and looked at the postmark: Bishop Auckland, it said. It took her a minute or two to recognise the writing on the envelope, for it was shaky and sprawled right to the edge, but there was something familiar about it. With a small shock she knew the letter was from Auntie Doris. She tucked it under her bib front as she walked into the main ward, thinking about Auntie Doris as she went.
The old lady was still in the workhouse hospital at Auckland, as far as Ada knew. She had written to her often and sent small gifts of money over the last few months, and the hospital would have informed her if Auntie Doris had left, she was sure. And where could she have gone?
But the question of Auntie Doris was forgotten as Ada worked out how she was going to get the weekend off and find time to buy her ticket. Ada didn’t even get round to opening the letter.
When Ada got down from the train as it at last steamed into King’s Cross Station, her heart was in her mouth. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to see Johnny – not only see him but touch him, love him. Her face was rosy as she remembered that one night they had spent together in the convalescent home, her bones felt like water as she thought of it. Anxiously she scanned the crowds on the platform, a small crease appearing between her eyes as she failed to see the familiar figure of Johnny. The next moment, there he was, her Johnny, tall, broad and smiling and the bonniest sight she had ever seen in her entire life. Her eyes filled with tears as he lifted her up in his arms, swinging her off her feet and burying his face in her hair.
‘Lorinda, Lorinda!’
‘Oh, Johnny,’ she said shakily. ‘Oh, Johnny.’ The depth of feeling as she felt his arms around her took her over completely. She was blind to every sight and sound on the station platform except for her Johnny. They were wrapped in a cocoon, a bright haze that shielded them from the rest of the world.
Ada hardly knew what was happening as he took her out to the taxi rank and somehow, out of all the crowds of people, managed to be the one who secured a cab and settled her in it, all without letting go of her hand. And then they were going up the broad staircase of a large hotel, a luxurious hotel in the West End, though for all Ada noticed it could have been a dosshouse in the East End.
As the door closed behind the bellboy and Johnny lifted her onto the bed, Ada felt sure her heart would burst. No one could be this happy and live.
Ada was woken by a knock on the door. Her eyes flew open and she gazed round at the unfamiliar room. She heard murmuring at the door; Johnny was keeping his voice low in order not to disturb her. Ada turned over on her back and stretched luxuriously, her lips curved in a wide, contented smile. Thank you, God, she thought, closing her eyes tightly, thank you for letting me wake up to the sound of my Johnny’s voice.
‘You look a bit pleased with yourself this morning.’
Ada opened her eyes and there he was, grinning down at her. He had a tray in his hands and there was the most delicious smell of bacon, eggs and toast. Her stomach rumbled and she realised just how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten since the sandwiches she took on the train the previous day – why, it must be eighteen hours or more.
Johnny put down the tray on the bedside table and sat down on the bed, the better to take her in his arms.
‘Good morning, my love,’ Ada whispered, as he buried his face in her neck. ‘And I am. Very pleased with myself.’
Johnny chuckled softly, satisfied with her answer. The urgency rose in them once more and the breakfast was forgotten for a while.
Later, they sat cross-legged on the bed and ate the now cold toast and bacon, relishing every mouthful.
‘What shall we do today?’ Johnny wiped his fingers on his napkin and raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Do you want to see the sights – the Tower, Buckingham Palace? Or shall we just stay here?’
‘Johnny! I’m scandalised.’ But Ada was laughing, her eyes brimming with love.
In the end they went out in the afternoon, walking in Hyde Park. There were lots of couples with the same idea, young lovers like them, strolling hand in hand under the trees. The light clothes of the women contrasted with the unvarying khaki of the men. There was an air of hectic gaiety: the laughter of the women was quick and nervous, and the men were holding the arms or hands of their girls tightly as though they might be snatched from them.
Ada felt in tune with them. Already the dark shadows were gathering on her and Johnny’s precious weekend, for that night she had to catch the overnight train to Durham. It was the last possible train she could catch and still be on time for her duty the next day, and she would have to try to snatch some sleep on the train. Ada shivered; she didn’t want to think of that, she wanted to live these few hours, get every single minute’s worth from them. Her hand tightened on Johnny’s arm and she looked up into his face. It too looked shadowed, he had something on his mind, she thought.
‘Let’s sit on the bench,’ she said. ‘We can watch the ducks.’ But what she really wanted to do was bury her face in Johnny’s shoulder, feel his strength sheltering her and smell the masculine scent of him. And she wanted to tell him that even though they parted, they would be together in the end.
‘Don’t go, Lorinda,’ Johnny said suddenly. For a moment Ada thought she had misheard him. ‘What?’
‘Don’t go, stay here with me. I don’t have to go back for a few days, we can have that time together. Stay, please.’
Oh yes, thought Ada, oh yes, I will. The thought of more days and nights with Johnny, the desire just to leave everything and stay, was overwhelming. Impulsively she leaned against him on the bench, feeling the roughness of his uniform, the hard outline of the Canada emblem against her arm. Dear God, oh yes.
‘I can’t, Johnny,’ she said.
There was a small silence, then he spoke again. ‘But why not? You belong here with me – nothing back there in Durham can be as important as that.’
Ada struggled to keep her resolve. No matter how she felt, she couldn’t stay here with Johnny. There was her work, there was a war on, the hospital needed her, and there was Tom away at the war, even now she couldn’t just disappear from Tom’s life. Chaotically, she tried to marshal the reasons why she had to go back. Johnny had to understand, she knew he would, all she had to do was
explain it to him properly.
Johnny watched the conflicting emotions crossing her face. ‘I want you here with me, why don’t you want to stay?’ he asked.
‘Oh, Johnny, lad, I never wanted anything so much in my life, I didn’t,’ Ada said helplessly.
Johnny laughed triumphantly. ‘Well then,’ he said. ‘I have to go back, Johnny, I have to. There’s the hospital, my work.’
‘I know your work is important. But nurses leave every day – they marry, they have children, someone takes their place. It’s natural for a woman, Lorinda.’
Ada knew it was true, but how could she just walk out on her job? There were more convalescent wounded coming every day, she was trained to help them. And there was something else. If Johnny had asked her only a few weeks ago she might have done it; after all, nurses were needed in London too. And though she didn’t want to cause Tom and his family any more pain by deserting him while he was in France, she would do it for Johnny. But there was something else.
‘There’s my mother.’
‘Your mother?’
She looked up as she caught the surprise in his voice. She hadn’t yet told him; there was so much she hadn’t had time to tell him. Now the story of her mother coming back tumbled out, how she was in Durham now and dependent on her.
‘Your mother deserted you!’ Johnny remembered the anger he had felt as a child when he had heard the story of Ada’s early life, all the suffering she had gone through because of her mother. ‘How can you put her before me?’ he cried.
He saw her protest forming on her lips and he rose to his feet and walked a few feet away. He had to make her see that he meant it. Yet he knew he was being unreasonable. He struggled with his emotions, his back turned towards her. If only he could make her realise what it was like when he was at the front, plagued with thoughts of her in Durham. Tom Gray could be home on leave at any time, persuading her to go on with her marriage. Tom Gray was her husband, she must have had her reasons for marrying him. Oh, he wanted her away from there!
When he turned his face was stern, his eyes glittering. She looked up at him and faltered into speech, because she had to make him understand. All the while he wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he loved her, beg her to stay. Oh, God, this bloody war, what it did to a man! How could he act like this with his precious Lorinda? But his expression didn’t alter.
‘Johnny, man … even if I stayed, what then? I couldn’t just turn up at the hospital next week some time and say, “Right you are, I’m back, everything back to normal.” Now can I? And what would I do? Maybe I could write to Mam, I don’t know. And then there’s Tom –’
‘Ah, Tom, that’s what the trouble is, is it? What is it, Ada, haven’t you made up your mind yet who you want? Is it him or me?’
Ada felt his words like a blow, they knocked the breath out of her. How could he say that to her? Hadn’t she left everything and rushed down to meet him, hadn’t she shown him how she loved him? And he had called her Ada. Johnny shouldn’t call her Ada, he always called her Lorinda. She stared at him, her face white, unable to answer him.
‘Well?’
Ada got to her feet and took a step towards him. ‘Johnny, Johnny, man,’ she said. There had never been even a cross word between them before. What had gone wrong?
A couple walking past on the path were shaken out of their absorption in each other as they saw her. Open-mouthed they looked from Ada to Johnny before recollecting themselves and hurrying on, fearful that the discord might be catching.
Johnny stepped forward. Ada had never heard him speak to anyone as he did then, let alone to her. His voice was hard and flat, his lips a thin, determined line.
‘Now, listen to me. I will tell you what I think. I think you should ring up that hospital of yours and tell them you can’t go back. Tell them anything, but understand this, you are staying here with me and when I go back to France you will go to my sister-in-law’s house in Middlesbrough. You could visit your mother from there, couldn’t you? Or, if you like, we’ll get a small flat here for you until I come back. You will not go back to Durham. I will not go to France knowing that Tom Gray can come back and think he can make you his wife again. Do you understand me?’
Ada looked up at him, unable to make out what was happening. How had the idyllic dreams of the morning turned into this nightmare? Oh, surely he would listen to reason, surely he would! If she rang the hospital and asked for another day off, maybe that would satisfy him.
But Johnny was allowing no compromises, and simply shrugged it off when she tried to put it to him.
‘Are you going to do what I say?’ was all he said. ‘I can’t, really I can’t, it’s the war, I have to go back. And Tom. I owe it to him –’
That was enough for Johnny. He had surprised himself at the extent of his jealousy. Maybe it was that he felt so helpless stuck in the trenches and not knowing what was happening, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her husband even being near her when he himself was in France, and he felt he would go mad at the thought of it. Turning on his heel he strode off in the direction of the hotel, leaving her alone.
Ada stared after him. Had he actually gone off and left her there in a strange park? She watched him walk away swiftly, his head held high, not looking back at all. Her vision blurred with tears and when she finally found her handkerchief to wipe her eyes and looked again, he was gone.
Oh, but he didn’t mean it, it was just because he loved her so. In a minute he would come back and apologise, tell her it was all right, he understood. She sank back onto the bench; she would sit here and watch the ducks. If she didn’t move and kept her mind on Johnny, willing him to return, he would. She had to go back to her work, she had striven so hard to get her post, and she was needed there. And, after all Tom and his family had done for her, she had to tell them to their faces that she was leaving him. She would explain to Johnny that there was no marriage left between her and Tom.
In the distance Ada heard a clock chime the hour, then the quarter and the half-hour. The crowds in the park were thinning, a cool breeze sprang up from nowhere. But Johnny didn’t come back.
She got to her feet, swaying a little at first so that she had to hold onto the back of the bench until the world around her steadied; she walked slowly back to the hotel. The room was empty of everything belonging to Johnny. Panicking, she missed seeing the note propped up on the mantelpiece. She rang for the bellboy and he told her that the gentleman had left.
‘The bill is paid until tomorrow, madam,’ he said, watching her curiously, wondering what had caused the Canadian officer to charge into the hotel, throw his things in a bag and clear the bill before charging out again.
She sat on a chair by the side of the bed in a kind of stupor. After a while, she stood up, rinsed her face in cold water and combed her hair, before mechanically packing her bag. She couldn’t stand being there any longer; she would try to catch an earlier train. By nine o’clock Ada was entering King’s Cross Station, and by half past the hour she was already steaming north towards Durham.
At ten o’clock Johnny arrived at King’s Cross Station. He paced up and down before the entrance to the platform where the trains left for northeast England and Scotland; he expected Ada to be leaving on the overnight train as she had originally planned, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He would wait there until she arrived.
She would have got his note by now, he mused. He hadn’t trusted himself to see her for a few hours, so he had written to say he would meet her at the station. ‘Maybe it’s my red hair, my love,’ he had written. ‘But how could I lose my temper with you? I promise, Lorinda, I promise, I will never do it again.’
As he waited he went over the row in his mind, over and over again. What on earth had made him act the way he did? His poor little love, she was only trying to do the right thing, he knew it really. But when she came he would beg her to understand, and assure her that he loved her so much, he would never give her up. Why could he not have
trusted her when she said there was nothing left between her and Tom Gray?
Johnny looked up at the station clock – not long now, she would be coming through the entrance any minute. And she would understand, he knew she would.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ada remembered nothing of the journey back to Durham except for the drumming of the wheels of the train. The noise went on and on in her head, spelling out, ‘Johnny has gone, Johnny has gone,’ until she thought she would go mad.
She went on duty on the wards, wondering if she could even survive until the evening, but somehow the trained nurse in her took over and she got through the day: not even Nurse Simpson noticed there was anything wrong. Or if she did, she did not remark upon it.
Every time the telephone rang Ada thought it might be Johnny; every time it was not, she died another death. By evening, Ada was beginning to give up hope.
When at last she was free to climb the stairs to her rooms and collapse on the bed, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and did not wake until morning. By that time she couldn’t bear to think of her trip to London at all, the agony was too hard to bear.
Trying to apply her mind to other things, if only for a little respite, Ada turned to the letter from Auntie Doris. It was a pathetic cry for help and Ada’s conscience smote her as she read it.
‘Please, Ada, take me out of here. I have my pension now and I wouldn’t be a total burden to you. I know I didn’t always do right by you but surely you owe me something. I’m not an invalid, not really, and if I hadn’t had such bad luck …’ The letter rambled on and on in the same vein.
Ada bit her lip as she read it. Her own dread of the workhouse rose up again in her, making her feel she had to do something. And then she had an idea. She wondered why on earth she hadn’t thought of it before – it was the obvious solution. She would bring Auntie Doris to Durham to live with Mam – after all, they were sisters, weren’t they? Although Auntie Doris was crippled with rheumatoid arthritis, she wasn’t completely helpless, she could still do small household tasks; anyway, the two women would be company for one another, wouldn’t they? There would be no need to worry about what her mother was doing if Auntie Doris was living with her, because Auntie Doris would watch out for her. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect answer, but it was the best she had thought of so far.