by Maggie Craig
Eddie and Helen spent their brief honeymoon in Milngavie. Adam’s mother offered them the use of her spare room, insisting she had planned to be away for the next four days anyway. Liz suspected she had cleared out on purpose, leaving the new Mr and Mrs MacMillan to start married life on their own. Apart, that was, from Mrs Hunter, the resident cook-housekeeper. She was a somewhat formidable lady, but unlikely to interfere much with the house guests.
‘I don’t know what it is about cooks,’ mused Adam. ‘I’ve known a few who were quite ferocious.’
Liz was reminded of his words when she turned up at Milngavie on the day before the end of Eddie’s leave. Amelia Buchanan was coming home that night and she wanted to give the young couple and their friends a special meal as a send-off to Eddie. He had asked Liz to come along a bit early. It was Mrs Hunter who opened the door to her. She had a large knife in her hand and she was scowling.
‘A celebration meal. That’s what Mrs B wants. Without any proper ingredients?’
Liz blinked, taken aback to be the recipient of the complaint before the woman had even said hello to her.
‘The gentleman who sometimes helps me out with a few bits and pieces hasn’t turned up yet,’ moaned the cook. ‘I thought you might be him, but you’re not. Pity.’
Gentleman. No doubt she meant her black-market supplier. She could have done with the poaching services of Conor and Finn.
‘If I don’t get them on time it’ll all go to pigs and whistles. Come in, then,’ she said irritably, beckoning Liz off the doorstep. ‘You’re letting cold air into the house.’
It was the end of October and the weather was beginning to turn chilly. The cook went on complaining, gesturing alarmingly with her knife towards the upper regions of the house.
‘Not that Love’s Young Dream notices what’s put in front of it. Honeymooner’s salad, that’s all that pair want. Lettuce alone.’
Hearing a footfall on the stairs, Liz looked up and saw Eddie. He must have caught the last comment. He was smiling broadly. The cook went off, still grumbling.
‘Into the dragon’s lair,’ murmured Eddie, running nimbly down the last few stairs to greet his sister. ‘How are you, Liz?’
‘All the better for seeing you. How’s Helen?’
‘I’ve persuaded her to take a nap.’
Liz opened her eyes wide. ‘What did you use? Thumbscrews?’
Eddie grinned. ‘Why don’t you and I go out for a good walk?’
They went up on to the moors, turning when they reached a decent height to look back towards Milngavie, and further afield to Clydebank and Glasgow in the distance.
They walked and talked for well over an hour, discussing it all. How could they win their parents round to the marriage? They didn’t come up with many answers to that one. Their grandfather had also taken it upon himself to inform Sadie of the wedding. Liz knew that Eddie was bitterly disappointed that his mother hadn’t turned up to see him marry Helen.
‘It was a Saturday,’ she pointed out. ‘Father would have had to know about it.’
He sighed. ‘I know, but don’t you sometimes wish that she would just stand up to him?’
‘I used to think that, Eddie.’ Liz’s eyes were fixed on a beautiful rowan tree in front of them. It was heavy with red berries. That was supposed to mean a hard winter ahead. ‘But it must be difficult. He’s bullied and badgered her for so many years. I think she’s lost any courage she ever had. And now we’re away from home it must be even worse.’
He gave her a plaintive look. ‘You feel guilty about that too?’
She asked how he was coping with life as an officer, albeit a junior one.
‘It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, Liz,’ he said. ‘A lot of the chaps have quite left-wing views.’
She suppressed a smile at that chaps. His accent was still very Scottish, but it had undergone a subtle shift. Liz was sure he was quite unaware of it.
‘I’m running a series of lectures,’ he went on, ‘on politics and the causes of the Great War - stuff like that.’
Liz retied her woollen scarf. It was beautiful up here, crisp and clear, but it was cold.
‘Do you think you’ll go in for teaching after the war?’
‘I’d like to,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘What greater goal can there be than the education of young minds?’
‘Health,’ she suggested. ‘Making everybody healthier. Educating them about how to do that.’
‘That’s your department,’ he said with a smile.
‘How do the senior officers react to your politics?’
He shot her a sideways glance. ‘Oh, they think I’m a bit of a rebel.’
‘Who’d have thought it?’
Eddie pulled her to him in a great bear hug. ‘Och, Liz, I’ve missed you! I’m so sorry about Mario,’ he added. ‘You won’t have heard anything of him, I suppose?’
‘Only that message I told you about. Nothing since then.’
Damn, there was a lump in her throat.
‘I’ll see if I can find anything out,’ he promised, ‘but there’s an awful lot of secrecy about some things. You’re cold,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Let’s go back to the house and see if we can persuade the dragon to make us a hot drink. Do you think there’s any chance the army might send me somewhere nice and warm for the winter?’
They descended the path arm in arm.
‘Adam’s very fond of you, you know,’ remarked Eddie as they approached the front gate of the house.
‘I’m very fond of him,’ said Liz.
In the days and weeks following Eddie’s departure, Liz thought back often to that walk on the moors. He had talked about his plans for the future, once the war was over. What were her own? She missed Mario dreadfully and longed for his return. She worried constantly about his and his father’s well-being, and her dreams were full of him. And he had spoken of marriage.
Liz wasn’t sure about that. Did she want to get married? Would he still want to when he came back? If he came back... but she mustn’t let herself think like that.
One thing she knew. She couldn’t make her main aim in life waiting for him to come home, however much she ached for that to happen. Liz thought long and hard about it, and eventually came up with a decision.
She would apply to do her nursing training, starting the following autumn. She’d be twenty-one by then, legally an adult. Her father wouldn’t be able to stop her. Perhaps he wouldn’t have stopped her this year either, but there was no way Liz was going back to Queen Victoria Row to ask for his permission. No way on earth.
Adam was delighted when she told him of her decision. So was Cordelia. She’d decided to apply to start her training the following year too.
‘That’s great, MacMillan. Sister MacLean will have to address us as Nurse then, won’t she?’
‘I wouldn’t put money on it,’ said Liz with a smile.
The weather outside was atrocious, but no one was bothered by that. They were giving their full attention to the concert party the doctors and nurses were putting on for them in honour of it being New Year’s Day of 1941.
That friendly young Dr Buchanan had got himself up like a charlady. He was wearing a dress with a pinny on top, something stuffed down the front to give him a huge bosom, and a red and white spotted scarf tied round his head, knotted at the front. You wouldn’t have taken him for anything other than a man, a tall and broad-shouldered one at that - but it was a good laugh all the same.
They finished one song and then, having agreed the programme in advance beforehand, launched into the next. It was My Wee Gas Mas’, one of music hall star Dave Willis’ great hits.
Wi’ ma wee gas mask,
I’m working oot a plan,
Though all the kids imagine,
That I’m just a bogeyman...
Adam was giving it laldy. Waving his arms about, he encouraged all the patients to join in with the chorus.
Whenever there’s an air raid,
/> Listen for my cry,
An airyplane, an airyplane,
A way way up a ‘ky!
Going round the beds afterwards to wish all the patients individually a happy new year, Liz found one man wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
‘You’re a wee gem, hen,’ he told her. ‘You all are. It’s real good of you to do this for us. We know how hard you all work.’
Adam, back in his white coat, peered over her shoulder. ‘This one especially,’ he told the man, resting a hand briefly on Liz’s shoulder. ‘She works like a wee Trojan.’
The patient smiled at him and nodded towards the exit from the ward. ‘There’s some mistletoe over there, Doctor. Hanging above the doors.’ Then he winked at Liz.
‘How about it, Nurse MacMillan?’ Adam asked lightly.
Liz blushed and moved away.
Liz’s face was wreathed in smiles. She looked as if she was about to burst with happiness. ‘I got another message,’ she told Cordelia, breathless with the joy and excitement of it. She was telling her because she was the only person she could find, and she had to tell someone. Coming off duty in the early afternoon, she had popped her head into the nurses’ common room to see who was there.
‘A message?’
The words came spilling out. ‘This man bumped into me not long after I came on duty this morning. He was on his way out of Casualty. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.’ That wasn’t quite true. She had felt the stranger’s hand graze her body, an unpleasant reminder of Eric Mitchell. Now she understood why he had touched her.
Her hand trembling with excitement, Liz held out a piece of paper. ‘He must have put this in my pocket, under my apron.’
Cordelia bent her head and read the few words written on the scrap of paper.
A certain person is alive and well and being treated well. He sends Elisabetta his love. The old man is also well and not too far away.
‘Oh,’ Cordelia said.
Liz was disappointed by her reaction. ‘Don’t you understand? Not too far away. That probably means that Mr Rossi’s on the Isle of Man. My brother managed to find out that’s where some of the Italians are interned. And at least I know now that Mario is being well-treated. Isn’t it exciting?’
Cordelia handed back the precious scrap of paper. ‘Yes, Liz, I can see that it’s exciting for you.’ She turned her head away and stared across the room. ‘I’m glad to hear that Mr Rossi’s all right. Mario too, of course.’ There was a brief silence.
‘Cordelia,’ said Liz. ‘Is there something the matter?’
With ineffable slowness, Cordelia turned her head back to look at Liz. An expression of deep sadness passed over her face.
‘I suppose I’m a bit jealous, Liz. That’s all. You’ve had a second message about Mario. I’ve got no idea what’s happening to the man I love.’
Liz digested this piece of information. Cordelia was using the present tense. Whoever he was, he obviously hadn’t been killed in action. She tried to think who he might be. Not Adam. Cordelia knew exactly where he was and what he was doing. And Liz had stopped believing there was a romance between the two of them a long time ago.
‘Did he... I mean, is he with someone else now? Did you have an argument, break up with each other?’ She wondered if the other girl wanted to talk about it. Would she be better to go away and leave her alone?
There was a long pause. Then Cordelia spoke.
‘He’s German,’ she said.
Thirty-three
They were in Cordelia’s room. She was sitting on the narrow bed while Liz was in a small armchair by the window.
‘I met him at Heidelberg before the war. I was studying German and he was training to be a doctor.’ She gave Liz a sad smile. ‘That’s one reason why I volunteered to be a nurse. Felt it would connect us in some way, I suppose.’
‘And you’ve no idea where he is now?’
Cordelia lifted her shoulders. ‘How could I have?’ She bit her lip. ‘There was one phone call - the weekend war was declared. The night we came back from taking the evacuees down to Ayrshire. You remember how upset I was? That was why I wanted to get home quickly that evening. I knew he’d get in touch with me if he possibly could. That’s what he’s like, kind and thoughtful.’
Tears were sliding down her cheeks. Liz leaned forward, her voice earnest. ‘Cordelia, don’t talk about it if it makes you so unhappy ...’
Cordelia gave a huge sniff and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Like a child. Liz had a sudden memory of young Charlie Thomson.
Yes, she remembered how upset Cordelia had been that day, and how Adam had comforted her. He must have known all along about her German boyfriend. And there had been other occasions when Cordelia had been distressed... it was all very clear now.
‘But I want to talk about it, Liz,’ she was saying. ‘It’s such a relief to be able to tell another girl about him.’ She was right then. Adam did know.
‘What’s his name?’ she asked gently.
‘Hans-Peter,’ said Cordelia, pathetic in her eagerness to talk of her forbidden lover. ‘I-I’ve got a photo of him here.’ The snapshot was in her bedside drawer, well hidden under scarves and stockings. Herself, a year or two younger, a tall and fair young man standing beside her. They were beaming at the photographer, both wearing breeches and jerseys, knapsacks on their backs.
‘You were hiking?’ asked Liz, studying the picture. She couldn’t get very enthusiastic about a German, but he was handsome enough, she supposed.
‘Yes, near the River Neckar,’ agreed Cordelia. ‘That was a lovely day.’ Her voice broke. ‘And now I’ve no idea where he is - or how he is - or what he’s doing.’ Her eyes were naked with longing and the need for comfort. ‘Och, Liz, how do I know that he’s not been hurt’ - she took a quick little breath - ‘or that he’s not helping to kill Jews?’
‘Oh, Cordelia!’ Awkwardness forgotten, Liz crossed to the bed and crouched down in front of her. ‘If you love him, I’m sure that he’s a good person. I’m sure he is.’
She was surprised when she realized that she had meant exactly what she had just said. She patted Cordelia’s knee until the other girl had stopped sobbing.
‘I get so lonely without him,’ said Cordelia, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘Although Adam’s been a brick all through this. An absolute rock.’
Liz smiled. ‘I used to think you and Adam were an item.’
‘Adam and me!’ Cordelia sounded completely incredulous. ‘You really thought that? Well, that explains ...’ She broke off. ‘Adam and I are like brother and sister - always have been.’
‘He’s great, isn’t he? He’s been such a good friend to me too.’
Cordelia gave her an odd look. ‘And you really thought he and I were ...’ She left the sentence unfinished. ‘I’ve always liked you, Liz,’ she went on, giving a rueful little grimace. I’m sure I’ve offended you sometimes in the past. Please believe me when I say that I’ve never meant to. I hear myself coming up with these dreadful Lady Bracknell-type expostulations, and it’s really my mother talking. But I get nervous, and I think I should say something. Unfortunately it’s usually the wrong thing.’
Liz stared at her. How often in her life had she felt that she’d opened her mouth and put her foot right in it? Lots of times. She came up from the floor and sat down suddenly on the bottom of Cordelia’s bed, one arm curled round the bedpost as though for support. She looked at the other girl.
‘I’ve been hard on you sometimes, haven’t I?’ And, she thought, I’ve said some incredibly tactless things. Things which must have hurt Cordelia a lot. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I apologize.’ She stuck out her hand, but Cordelia leaned forward and gave her a swift hug. Separating, the two girls looked at each other. Then they both laughed.
‘Sorry for the emotional display,’ said Cordelia.
‘What happened to the stiff upper lip?’ queried Liz with a smile.
‘Bugger the stiff upper lip,�
� said Cordelia robustly. ‘We’re all people, aren’t we? With feelings and emotions?’
‘Yes,’ said Liz slowly, considering it. ‘Whatever kind of accent we speak with. Whatever kind of background we come from.’
The army did send Edward MacMillan somewhere nice and warm. With several thousand others he had embarked for Egypt in the late autumn to join the forces of General Wavell, commander-in-chief for North Africa. The goal was the preservation of Britain’s access to the Suez Canal. The Italian army was in possession of most of Libya, plus the fortress of Sidi Barrani, well inside the Egyptian border. General Wavell decided that Mussolini’s new Roman legions had to be driven back.
Eddie was one of the men deployed on what was known as Operation Compass. Under Major General O’Connor he took part in the recapture of Sidi Barrani and its surrounding forts, and the push into Libya. It all seemed to happen with embarrassing ease. In three days the British took forty thousand Italians prisoner.
Eddie felt sorry for most of them. They looked so utterly dejected. He wondered if any of them were Mario Rossi’s relations.
There were more successes in the new year. The fortress of Bardia fell to the British - and another forty-five thousand prisoners. Then there was a bit of a lull. Eddie took the time to catch up on his correspondence.
He composed a long letter to Helen. There was the little in it about the campaign which he thought would get past the censors, something about the conditions in which the local people lived and a great deal about his feelings for his wife.
My wife. He was surprised how much pleasure those two little words gave him. He was a lucky man. He found a funny postcard to send to Liz and wrote a cheerful message on it. He knew the two girls would compare notes and that Helen would tell Liz what was in the letter.
Some of it at any rate, he thought with a smile. Not the romantic passages. The soppy bits, as Liz would call them. His writing finished, he went to the doorway of the tent and stood looking out over the desert.