Now the War Is Over

by Annie Murray

  It had been sweet, and Melly sometimes managed a little smile and stroked Sandra’s hair.

  Rachel didn’t know what to do about any of it. It was as if going in for all that nursing had been too much for Melly. Best thing was for her to have a good rest. Rachel tried to make sure she had enough to eat and good food too. Beyond that she just left her be. She’d soon pick up and then she could look for a job.

  Danny didn’t have a clue either.

  ‘Tell you what, wench,’ he said when he saw Melly was home. ‘If you’ve packed in the hospital you can come and help me. I’m getting busy on the market and I can always use another pair of hands.’

  Melly said she would one day, but not yet.

  Now, after two months, it was frankly beginning to get on Rachel’s nerves. It was time the wench pulled herself together. She was looking a bit better, less peaky in the face. She’d stopped crying all the time. And she was helping out with repairs to the coats for Danny and other stuff for the market.

  That was the best thing, Rachel thought, as she turned in at the school gates. You had to keep busy and not mope. They hadn’t got through the war years by moping, had they? It was bad enough having Tommy with a long face, without adding Melly as well. She didn’t know what was wrong with her children sometimes. At their age she was weighed down by war and babies, with Danny away and not knowing if he’d ever come back. What did this lot have to put up with? Nothing, when you compared them. They didn’t know they were born.

  ‘I knew you were aiming too high with that nursing,’ she’d said to Melly the other day. ‘I never could see what you wanted to go and do that for – but now you’ve found out for yourself.’

  ‘Like your mother says –’ Danny supported her – ‘it’s not for the likes of us. Stick to what you know best, that’s my way of looking at it. And in this family what we know best is trading and selling – buy for a shilling, sell for one and six – Bob’s your uncle.’

  Melly didn’t say anything to that; she just gave them both that blank look she had these days and disappeared upstairs.

  But they were right, she and Danny, Rachel thought. They should know, shouldn’t they? They’d come through far more than Melly could ever know about. Whatever had happened in that hospital to send her running home, it obviously wasn’t right for her. But at least she was on the mend now and she could start all over again.

  Melly set out to collect Alan from a lady’s house a few streets away. She had a little boy the same age and the two of them often played together.

  As she stepped outside, the sunlight stroked her face. It’s a nice day, she thought. And in that moment she knew something had shifted. For the past two months she had scarcely noticed the weather because a constant pall like heavy grey cloud had been hanging over her.

  She felt as if she had passed through a terrible ordeal.

  When she came home she had felt as if she was losing her mind. For the first few nights she still could not sleep, her pulse pounding, her nerves all a-jangle. She could not bear anyone near her, could not hold her thoughts together.

  One night, at last, she slept. After that she could not seem to stop sleeping. Then she started crying and could not stop doing that either.

  Mom and Dad tiptoed round her. Gladys, rather to her surprise, came over to visit a number of times and was the kindest of the three. She seemed to have some idea how Melly felt.

  ‘It’ll pass, bab,’ she’d say sometimes. ‘It always does, in the end.’

  What was more comforting than anything was that Gladys had come; she just sat there, solid and reassuring beside her.

  Melly felt useless. She tried not to take in any of their comments about nursing or to think about the hospital at all. Any time it came into her head – the wards, those patients who were there at the end – she was immediately flooded with panic. If she thought of Raimundo Alexander, instead of panic came an aching grief.

  Gradually, as she spent time at home, the whirling inside her began to slow and settle. Recently she had begun to notice what was going on around her. Especially Tommy, her unhappy brother.

  Tommy never complained but she could feel an air of permanent misery coming from him. She had managed to get a conversation with him last Saturday when they were alone – a rare thing in the house.

  ‘What is it, Tommy? Is it the money, or what?’

  ‘No – money’s – all right.’

  She had thought so – he was earning nearly six bob a week which did not seem too bad.

  ‘What is it, then? I’ve never seen you look so browned off in your life. Come on – I’ll make us a cuppa and you can tell me.’ She wanted to be his big sis again, for him to need her as he always had.

  He seemed reluctant at first, but he didn’t push her away this time. Once she had filled the pot and sat with him, with a packet of Bourbons, really showing she wanted to listen, he began to open up.

  Tommy was employed in the Suppliers’ Accounts department. He had been handling invoices – Melly remembered this and asked him about it.

  ‘They – took me – off that,’ he said.

  That was when he was supposed to staple invoices together – goods in and goods out – and put them in alphabetical order, to get through three hundred a day. But Tommy was working more-or-less one-armed and he couldn’t keep up. Anyway, the others often fibbed about what they’d done.

  ‘I never – thought to – tell him a – lie,’ Tommy said. ‘So I was – the – one – always in – trouble.’

  Now, he said, they had taken him off that and put him on filing. ‘Dead filing,’ he said, all the non-urgent stuff.

  As the story emerged, Melly’s heart ached for him. Tommy could see himself spending his whole life in the same place, despite his O-levels, with everyone thinking him simple because of the way he talked. Around him, other people with no qualifications like he had would be getting promotions and pay rises.

  ‘They think – I’m – stupid. But if – they want to – know – something – they – ask me,’ he finished bitterly.

  Melly felt sad and angry for him. It was a relief to think about someone else and their troubles. Every bit of her wanted to reach out and protect him.

  ‘Oh, Tommy,’ she said. ‘Could you get another job somewhere?’

  ‘It’d be – the same,’ he said, staring down at the table-top. ‘And – Dad – has to – keep – driving – me.’

  ‘What about . . . ? Aren’t they getting you a car – a three-wheeler?’

  ‘Soon – I’ve – been to – the – doctor. He said – I – could.’

  ‘That’ll be nice. You’ll be able to get about, won’t you?’

  Tommy nodded bleakly.

  Melly left him, wishing there was something she could do.

  Now, approaching the house where she had to pick up Alan, she was filled with dread at the thought of having to talk to anyone. But it had to be done. She knocked on the door and was able to go through the motions of thanking the lady.

  ‘Come on, Alan,’ she said to her sturdy little brother. He had seemed pleased to see her which made her happy. In some ways it was nice to be at home. ‘We’ll go out to the park later, shall we?’

  Alan took her hand and trotted along beside her.

  As she drew close to the house, she saw a bus pull up at the stop along the road. When it had moved on, from among the few people who got off, two figures emerged. Seconds later she recognized them with a shock. It was as if two worlds were colliding.

  It was Berni and Margaret, both in summery outfits. Margaret’s top was bright yellow and made Melly think of a sunflower. For a second she felt like running away. And then she was overjoyed to see them. She raised her hand and waved. She saw them look at each other, then wave back.

  ‘What’re you two doing here?’ she asked, trying to cover up the fact that she felt suddenly like crying. She swallowed hard and forced a smile.

  ‘Come to see you – what d’you think?’ Berni replied. Sh
e wore a navy blue dress, a rather austere-looking thing, and flat brown shoes. ‘We got days off at the same time for once.’

  They both looked relieved by the sight of her. They had sent a card in the early days, signed by a few of the girls in their year group. Melly wondered what they had expected to find. It was a good thing they had not come earlier, though, she thought – she would not have managed to hold herself together.

  They did not stay too long – a couple of hours – both seeming to understand that she would not be able to cope with more. But they had a drink and took Alan out to the park. The three girls sat on the grass which still had a breath of damp about it.

  ‘So are you getting better?’ Margaret said. ‘When we asked Sister what was wrong, she said you were sick. You had some sort of breakdown that morning, by the look of it.’

  Margaret was more able to talk seriously than Berni, whose usual way was to tease and joke.

  ‘Things just got on top of me,’ Melly said. She had been thinking about it. There had been one thing after another – Mr Stafford’s haemorrhage, then Mr Alexander. Deaths were a shock. Mr Palmer dying was a shock too. Nurses acted as if death was normal – which it was, of course – but not when you weren’t used to it. It had all built up in her.

  ‘I never felt I could say,’ she added.

  Berni was staring down at the grass.

  ‘We’ve been back in class,’ she said, seeming to want to change the subject. The two of them talked about the classes and their new wards and the gossip of the other girls, laughing together. As the conversation turned back to their day-to-day concerns they seemed more comfortable.

  Melly felt herself shrinking inside. All of it was so familiar, yet it seemed so far away now, a world she could not be part of. It was desolate, like watching a train steam out of the station and knowing that the doors were closed and you could not get on.

  Berni got up and started to run about with Alan. They had brought a ball and she kicked it about with him. Berni had younger brothers, Melly knew. How she must miss her family, she thought. But Berni never showed her emotions.

  Margaret sat back, resting on her hands behind her, her brown, shapely legs crossed in front of her. She looked neat, as usual. Her skirt was lime green, her tan leather shoes flat.

  ‘You coming back, Melly?’ she asked. ‘What you going to do?’ Her face was serious, but she asked as if this was quite possible and Melly had not missed the train after all.

  Melly looked at her, grateful for her directness, but feeling suddenly full of anguish and close to tears. Her emotions confused her these days. She would be numb for ages, feeling nothing, only to be ambushed by a rush of overpowering feeling – anger or frustration or grief.

  ‘I don’t know. Mom and Dad keep telling me that all this shows it wasn’t for me and I should go and get another job. I’ll have to soon – I can’t just sit around not earning my keep.’

  ‘Matron – she said you could come back?’

  She inclined her head. ‘Maybe.’

  Margaret was silent for a few moments, her eyes following Alan’s movements. Melly thought the conversation was over, but then Margaret said:

  ‘My mom had a breakdown – back home. I suppose that’s what it was.’

  Melly waited.

  ‘After she had my brother. There are five of us. My sister and me – we looked after the house and the others, the baby.’

  ‘Did she go to hospital?’

  Margaret looked incredulously at her. She burst out laughing. ‘Hospital? There’s no hospital – not for that. No – she got a strong faith and she recovered from it in her way.’ She leaned back and altered the position of her legs. ‘It’s just the way of things sometimes.’

  Forty-Four

  ‘That’s it – squeeze, hard as you can. Good – now the other hand – ah, yes, that’s your good hand all right! Good lad!’

  The technical officer who was dealing with Tommy, a bird-like, black-haired man, kept up a breezy patter throughout the tests – eyesight, hearing, his reaction times and now the strength of his grip. They were in the Artificial Limb and Appliance Centre at Selly Oak, finding out if Tommy could have his disability three-wheeler and seeing what kind of controls he would need.

  ‘You’re going to have to do all the work with your right hand, but then you’re used to that. We’ll see what we can do. That’s all we need for now.’

  Tommy sat still, staring at the floor.

  ‘It’s all right – you can go now,’ the man said. ‘Don’t worry – we’ll be able to fix something up for you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Tommy stirred himself, reaching for his stick. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Using the wheelchair most of the time, are you?’

  ‘Mostly,’ Tommy said. Never at work though. However slowly he walked, lurching on the stick, however tiring it was, he was not going in there in a cripple’s chair.

  ‘Are you all right, Tommy?’

  All right – was he? The putty-coloured pall covering his life, his feelings, had become normal to him so that now he no longer knew.

  He struggled to his feet. ‘Yes. Thanks.’

  ‘Buck up, lad! This is going to give you a new lease of life – freedom. The open road. So long as you’re careful.’ He patted Tommy on the back as he crossed the bare, clinical room. ‘Someone waiting for you, is there?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tommy said. ‘My – father.’ At the door, again, he said, ‘Thank you . . . sir.’

  ‘Cheerio, lad. Good luck.’

  ‘It’s here, Tommy – they brought it this morning!’

  Rachel ran to the front door the moment Danny brought Tommy back after work that day.

  ‘I know. Dad said.’

  ‘It’s along at Mr and Mrs Turner’s for the moment. The man’s coming on Saturday, to train you.’

  Mr Turner, round the corner, had a shed which he said Tommy could keep the three-wheeler in. They had been dismayed at first, when they found out that one of the conditions of having an invalid car was being able to keep it under cover. The house had no garage and they couldn’t get it round the back, but the Turners had come to their rescue.

  ‘Just think, Tommy,’ Rachel chattered to him, as she stirred a pot of steak-and-kidney on the stove. ‘You’ll be able to go out by yourself. That’s nice, isn’t it?’

  He nodded. She handed him a cup of tea.

  Melly appeared downstairs. Tommy exchanged looks with her. There was a silent understanding between them. They didn’t talk much but each knew the other was sad and suffering. It was no good talking to Mom and Dad. All they ever said was that you just had to buck up and not mope.

  Tommy sipped his tea, still dragged down by his day. He did talk to people at work sometimes, but his speech was just too slow for them. It felt as if they were putting up with him rather than ever being friends or treating him seriously. And they didn’t always bear with him all that patiently. ‘All right – never mind, I’ll ask someone else,’ he often heard when he’d been asked a question.

  And that girl, Con, gave him such pitying, scornful looks.

  In the dinner break, when the others went off in chattering groups, Tommy stayed at the desk, alone with his sandwiches.

  Though he was glad to be issued with the three-wheeler, or Invacar as it was called, all it meant was that he could get to work by himself. It didn’t change anything else. Looking ahead at his life, all he could see was this lonely toil, nothing interesting or demanding. Just a grey nothing-muchness, forever.

  When could he ever get a better job or have any of the normal life the others looked forward to? To friends and marriage – even a family? These were things he never really dared to hope for.

  When he did see the trike – in fact it was more like a little car – he felt more excited. This little blue, almost triangular vehicle was made especially for him! The controls were arranged so that he could do everything with his right hand.

  When the technical officer arrived on Saturday morning to tra
in him, Tommy was afraid that all the family would come out and watch. That was the last thing he wanted. He was grateful that Mom made them all go back inside.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Kids – get in. Tommy doesn’t need you gawping at him.’

  The man was jolly and gingery, with freckles. He slid the door open.

  ‘Here’s your carriage, sir – all the way from Benfleet in Essex. You get in and try it.’

  He showed Tommy the controls, and walked alongside him as he learned to use the little machine. As Tommy sat in the seat and the three-wheeler crawled noisily along the street and round the corner, he felt his spirits lift. It was true – it felt good to be on the road. And there was only room for him inside. It was all his and no one else could muscle in or beg rides off him!

  ‘You’ll soon get the hang of it,’ the man said, smiling at him. ‘The examiner’ll be along next week to put you through your paces and then – off you go! And you know they have rallies and outings, don’t you? I went down to Hendon to one last year – a mate of mine drove all the way down in his car like this. It’s a nice day out. All very jolly. You could go this year – it’s somewhere in Manchester. And there’ll be things going on close to home.’

  Tommy felt his face crease into a grin. It was an unusual feeling for him.

  ‘Sounds – nice,’ he said. He felt something lighten, like the clouds thinning, letting rays of light into his life. Suddenly something felt possible. New places – maybe even new friends!

  The next week he did everything he had to do for the test: reversing, an emergency stop – he noticed the examiner got well out of his way when they were doing that one – three-point turn, indicators . . . After that he was on his own, though the man said he could leave his L-plates on for as long as he wanted to.

  ‘Are you pleased?’ Melly asked him that evening. She had been helping Dad and Gladys on the Rag Market that day. The rest of the family were all milling about. Tommy was at the table in his wheelchair.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. He could feel that smile sneaking out again. Pleased? Oh, he was pleased all right!