by Rosie Clarke
‘Thank you.’ Maureen smiled at him and shut the door of their hut. Looking down at Sally as she snored, oblivious to the grief and sorrow that had driven her to drink too much, Maureen felt her eyes sting with tears. It was all so damned horrible.
The next day Sally apologised. She was on duty first thing and went to work with a thumping headache, vowing she would never drink again, but Maureen understood. The work they did every day on the wards was hard, often dirty and smelly and sometimes you had to let go or it would drive you mad, but that was nothing to learning that a friend had been killed by a stray bomb.
Sister Matthews talked to the nurses and auxiliaries a week after her death, gathering them together in the lecture room. She was strict and gave the juniors a hard time if she caught them slacking or smoking on her ward. Pam had been in trouble more than once for sharing a crafty fag with one of the patients, but underneath she’d been hard-working and honest and she’d given her life for her patient.
‘We all regret the untimely deaths of Staff Nurse Wendell and our trainee nurse Pam Morton. I know some of our trainees shared accommodation with Pam and must feel her loss terribly. She was brave and selfless and an example to us all – as was Jill Wendell. We miss them and mourn them, as we do the patients we sometimes lose – but the work goes on. If any of you have problems with carrying on as normal, please come and talk to me. A transfer might be arranged if necessary.’
‘The old trout has feelings after all,’ Sally told Maureen as they left the lecture room later. ‘Pam would laugh her head off if she heard herself being held up as an example to all of us. She was forever in trouble with Sister Matthews and broke all the rules – and she didn’t care.’
Maureen nodded, smiling because at least Sally could talk about it now without tears in her eyes, and it seemed that Sister’s little talk had done some good after all. It had helped Maureen, because she would think about Sister’s softer side when she was being told to scrub the bedpans again because they weren’t up to Sister’s standard. Sometimes at the start she’d felt resentful of the senior nurse’s stern lectures and the way she always seemed to pick on Maureen to do the dirtiest jobs; scrubbing floors, bedpans, disinfecting beds and trolleys and remaking beds that weren’t quite right at the corners had seemed such tedious and, at times, unnecessary work, when what she wanted to do was to help nurse the men.
It had been a great day for Maureen when Sister asked her to go and assist Nurse Petty with changing bandages. Of course, her role was just to fetch and carry and hand things to the competent nurse, but it was a step up from the menial tasks she was normally given, and Nurse Petty had asked for her again, so Maureen was spending more time helping with the patients, often just filling water jugs and straightening beds, but she got to talk to the men and that made everything else worthwhile. They were always so grateful for the slightest favour, the seriously ill ones indicating her presence with a faint nod or a glimmer of a smile, but the ones on the mend grinned and asked her to be their girl, teasing her about where they were going on their honeymoon and all sorts of nonsense.
Maureen didn’t take the teasing seriously, because it was the same for all the girls. Even Sister got teased by some of the cheekier lads, but she just gave them one of her no-nonsense looks and told them to be good boys, which soon quietened even the most riotous of the recovering men.
It must have been about two weeks after Sister’s talk, and Maureen was returning from her recent stint on the wards in the early hours. The sky was just beginning to get light and she realised that it felt a little warmer after weeks of bitter cold nights and that it must be nearly Easter. She never looked at a newspaper, unless one of the patients showed her something specific, and time just went by in a blur; one day it was Saturday and then it would be Thursday night. There was no such thing as a day off, because Sister was always asking for volunteers to do extra shifts and if she looked directly at you that was it.
‘Hi,’ a male voice said as she approached the field where the accommodation huts stood in dark rows. ‘I thought I recognised you – how is your friend now?’
Maureen stared and then realised it was the guard who had helped her the night Sally got drunk. He was wearing naval uniform but carrying a kitbag, as though he were off duty. ‘Sally is fine,’ Maureen said, because her friend wouldn’t want her to tell a stranger that she was a mess and fighting her grief by working until she was so exhausted that she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. ‘Thanks for askin’…’
‘Sally, nice name,’ he said and offered his hand. ‘Harry Ransom. Will you tell me your name?’
‘It’s Maureen,’ she said. ‘I apologise, Harry, but I’ve just worked twenty hours and I need to sleep…’
‘Poor you,’ he said and smiled in a way that appealed to Maureen because it was honest and sincere. ‘I know how it feels. I’ll see you around – unless you have a day off soon?’
‘What’s that?’ Maureen said and yawned. ‘Sorry. I need to sleep… Bye, Harry. Maybe see you around…’
‘Maybe…’ He stood aside and let her go and she sensed he was watching regretfully as she walked to her hut and went inside. Maureen wouldn’t have gone out with him even if she’d had a day free, because there was Rory. He was waiting for her and as soon as she got a couple of days off she intended to take the train back to London and visit him. In fact, she would finish the letter she’d been writing to him for the past couple of days and send it on her way into work that afternoon. She was due back on at four so that meant she had time to catch up on a few chores and get some much-needed sleep.
*
Maureen tried to write to Rory but the words wouldn’t come. She placed the half-finished letter back in her notecase and saw Gordon Hart’s latest letter. He wrote most weeks just to ask how she was and if she’d heard from Shirley, and Maureen looked forward to getting his letters.
She drew a sheet of paper towards her and began to write:
Dear Gordon
I should’ve replied sooner, but it’s been awful here. The hospital was bombed and one of the girls I shared a hut with was killed trying to save her patient. Sally is really miserable and keeps crying. I didn’t know Pam that well, but I liked her and it has upset me. I know it’s happening all over, but it’s always worse when it’s people you know.
Sorry to be a misery. I hope you’re all right and not having too bad a time out there, Gordon. Shirley is fine and seems happy at her school. She wrote to thank me for a drawing book and some sweets I sent her two weeks ago. I hope to get down and see her one day – and perhaps you’ll be back on leave again soon. Please take care and come back to your friends who miss you.
Best wishes, Maureen
Folding the letter and putting the stamp on the envelope, Maureen smiled. If only it was as easy to write a nice cheerful letter to Rory, but he hardly ever wrote to her and when he did it was always to complain that she hadn’t been to visit. He just didn’t seem to understand that her job was important and she certainly couldn’t tell him about Pam.
*
Maureen was woken by the sound of crying. At first she was feeling groggy and couldn’t make out where she was, but as her vision cleared she became aware that she was in the hut she shared with Sally. As yet, another nurse had not been allocated to their hut and she thought Sister was being sensitive to their feelings by not replacing Pam too quickly.
‘Sally, what’s wrong?’ Maureen threw back the covers and went over to the other girl’s bed. Sally was sitting on the edge and she had a letter in her hand. Wordlessly, she thrust it at Maureen. She hesitated, then took it and read the single page. Despite the sympathetic terms of the letter it carried devastating news and Maureen felt stunned. Sally’s older and much-loved brother had been killed on active service and her mother wanted her to go home for a service of remembrance.
We haven’t got our darling Billy back to bury, because he’s lost at the bottom of the sea, but we’re going to mourn him in c
hurch just the same. Please come home and help your father bear this, Sally, because if you don’t I think he will just sit there and die of a broken heart…
‘Oh, Sally love, I’m so sorry,’ Maureen said, because Sally often talked about her brother and she’d heard an awful lot about Billy, who was clearly the darling of his family. Sally adored him, wrote to him frequently and sometimes read bits of his letters aloud, so it almost felt as if she knew him – and it hurt her to see the devastation in her friend. Sally had found it difficult to cope with the loss of their friend Pam, how she must be feeling about this Maureen could hardly imagine. She put her arms about her friend’s shaking body to try and comfort her. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ It was all she could think of to say, because sorry never helped and nothing would bring Billy back to life.
Sally sat with the tears running down her cheeks for a moment or so longer and then turned to look at Maureen. She hesitated for a moment, then, ‘Will you come home with me? Please? It will be just for two days – a forty-eight-hour pass and then we’ll return to work…’
‘I’m not sure Sister would let us both go…’ Maureen was doubtful on two counts, because surely Sally’s parents wouldn’t want a stranger in their home at such a time. She looked at Sally intently. ‘Won’t your parents mind? They don’t know me… surely I’d be in the way.’
‘Sister can’t refuse, and I don’t care what my parents think,’ Sally said, a mutinous look in her eyes. ‘Please come, Maureen. I don’t think I can face them if you don’t. You don’t know what it’s like for me at home. Billy was everything to them – he was the prince of their lives and I came a long way down the list. I loved him too, but they worshipped the ground he walked on. If I have to face that alone…’ Her voice trembled with emotion and Maureen knew she was at breaking point. Sally needed her and she couldn’t refuse her.
‘You won’t,’ Maureen assured her and held her tighter. ‘I’m coming with you, love. I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but I’ve known hurt and pain and I’ll help you all I can.’
‘I didn’t think it could happen to him too – he was the golden boy and I thought he would come through it unscathed like he always does.’ A sob escaped her and the effort to conquer her grief collapsed. ‘It’s so damned unfair…’
Maureen held her, rocking her as she sobbed out her pain. Sally was convulsed with grief: it was just too much, too soon after Pam’s death, and her friend was like a broken doll.
They stayed with their arms wrapped around each other for some time and then Sally quietened. She looked up at Maureen and attempted a wry smile.
‘You must be wishing you’d never been landed with me as your hut mate?’
‘Never,’ Maureen said stoutly. ‘I wouldn’t change you for the world, Sally. When I first came down here I expected to feel homesick and was planning to ask for a transfer back to London, but since we became friends I’ve been content to stay.’
‘I was thinking of asking for a transfer before Pam was killed,’ Sally said, ‘but after that it would have seemed as if I were running out on her.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Maureen said and offered her a clean hanky. ‘Wash your face and let’s go grab a cup of tea and whatever’s going. I’m starving.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Sally said. ‘I could do with a stiff drink, but I’d better not start because I might not know when to finish…’
Chapter 8
Peggy looked at herself in the dress she’d had made for the dance Able was taking her to that evening. The material was a heavy quality silk and she’d found it at the back of a second-hand shop just off Commercial Road. It had been under a pile of old curtains and the shop assistant had clearly never seen it before.
‘That must have been there years,’ she said as she looked at the ticket price of five pounds ten shillings and eleven pence. The roll cost more than most families had to live on a week for rent, clothing and the lot. ‘It’s a bit expensive for most of our customers, but it looks good quality and would’ve sold these days if anyone had seen it.’
‘Yes, I was lucky to find it,’ Peggy said and paid quickly because she’d seen the envious looks the assistant was giving the roll of material and knew if she’d tried to knock the price down she would’ve lost it. ‘It’s exactly what I want…’
The colour was a shimmering crimson and Peggy had known it would make a sensational evening dress the moment she’d spotted it. Yes, it was far too much money to spend on a dress, but now, as she smoothed it over her hips and looked at the clever shaping which made her waist look narrow and emphasised her generous hips and breasts, she was almost afraid to wear it, because she looked – voluptuous.
Oh dear, she thought, I’m not sure I dare go out in it. Staring doubtfully at herself, Peggy was wondering what else she could wear when the door opened and Janet walked in behind her.
‘Mum! You look stunning,’ Janet said and the sincerity in her voice made Peggy feel easier. ‘Fifteen years younger and really – beautiful…’
‘I thought it might be a bit – well, you know… provocative?’
Janet studied her and then nodded. ‘I’ve got just the thing – Mike bought it for me last year…’ She went into her own room and came back moments later with a large, black Spanish lace shawl, which she draped over Peggy’s bare arms. Immediately, it softened the silhouette a little and made Peggy feel vastly more comfortable.
‘Yes, that helps,’ she told her daughter with a smile. ‘But are you sure you don’t mind my borrowing it – if Mike gave it to you…?’
Janet’s smile flashed out at her. ‘I trust you not to lose it,’ she said. ‘Honestly, Mum, that dress suits you, and the shawl makes it… gives you the decorum you prefer, though you could wear it just as it is, believe me.’
‘Thank you, darling,’ Peggy said and kissed her, leaving a trace of deep crimson lipstick on her cheek. ‘What did I do to deserve such a wonderful daughter?’
‘You’re a great mum,’ Janet said. ‘Besides, I know you. You were thinking of putting on your old black dress, weren’t you?’
Peggy laughed and nodded. ‘I’d better go down. Able will be here shortly – are you certain you and Nellie can manage here, love?’
‘Stop worrying, Mum,’ Janet said ‘We’ll manage just fine – besides, Anne got home this afternoon and she said she would pop in and give us a hand if we need it and just have a chat if we’re not busy.’
Trade was up and down these days, because the shortages meant Peggy didn’t always have beer, and customers couldn’t order their favourite drinks. Even the food depended on what coupons she had left and what she could find in the shops. Thankfully, the government had put the lid on price inflation on food, making it illegal to charge more than a certain amount for all kinds of food. She tried to produce both savoury and sweet pastries but the fat wasn’t always available, and although she improvised, even her cooking couldn’t always disguise the lack of good ingredients. Normally, she was able to buy margarine in sufficient quantities and a lot of customers were happy with hot toast and tomatoes or sometimes sardines, but that evening she’d provided both apple pie and treacle tart as well as a tasty vegetable pie, which she called her wartime special. It was made of root vegetables, topped with potatoes, but she’d spiced it up a bit with onions and topped the crispy potato layer with melted dripping from the weekend joint; browned under the grill, it tasted good.
‘I know you will manage,’ Peggy said and smiled at her daughter. She picked up her black evening purse and left the room, followed by Janet.
Able was already waiting for her downstairs in the kitchen, looking so handsome in his smart uniform. He’d come round the back rather than going into the bar, which she knew was deliberate, because some of Peggy’s customers might have been shocked to see her leave with an American officer for the evening. Peggy knew local people liked Laurie and respected him; they could have no idea that he’d let her down, and in any case would not have app
roved of her going out with another man even if they had known her husband had been unfaithful to her. So Able was discreet and Peggy ignored the frowns of a few people who had guessed something was going on. She didn’t feel she was doing anything wrong by letting him take her out occasionally. Able behaved like a perfect gentleman, respecting her as a married lady and so far – despite the looks he sometimes gave her – he’d done no more than give her a peck on the cheek after escorting her home. Peggy wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to make a more amorous advance or not, though she couldn’t help feeling attracted to him. His smile made her toes tingle and her body responded like a young woman’s.
However, the look on his face when he saw her in the red gown made Peggy draw her breath sharply. He seemed stunned for a moment, but then he came forward and took her hands, gazing at her in a way that she could only describe as hungry.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said in a deep gravelly voice she hadn’t heard from him before. ‘Stunning! I shall have to fight the other officers off this evening, Peggy. They will all want to dance with you.’
Peggy glowed with a warmth that filled and lifted her. It was so long since a man had looked at her like this… desire, wanting and pride. She smiled, feeling shy all of a sudden, because something told her that Able wouldn’t just kiss her on the cheek and walk away tonight…
*
Perversely, they were busier that evening than they had been for weeks, Janet thought as she served a customer with a half of beer and a slice of her mother’s fatless sponge. She put the money in the till, making sure that she made a note of the price of the sponge. That money belonged to her mother, and Janet hadn’t forgiven her father for being unfaithful to Peggy. Her anger against him for his intransigence over her marriage and then his behaviour to her mother had made her encourage Peggy to go out with Able. He was a really nice man and Janet liked him, and she didn’t see why her mum shouldn’t have a little fun once in a while. It wasn’t as though she was having a torrid affair, though after Able saw her in that dress… Janet considered her own feelings if Peggy did have an affair and decided she wouldn’t mind. She loved her mother and thought she deserved to be happy.