by Rosie Clarke
‘I’d like to stay where I am, Sister.’
‘You don’t feel that it’s cursed?’ Sister frowned. ‘Someone said as much to me this morning, but I dismissed it as rubbish.’
‘It is rubbish,’ Maureen said firmly. ‘Neither of them was killed at the hut – it isn’t the hut, it’s the damned war…’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Sister smiled in approval. ‘My opinion that you have the temperament for an excellent nurse has been confirmed. I am sending you home for two weeks – and then I shall expect you to return ready for work.’
‘Thank you,’ Maureen said. ‘The funeral…?’
‘Sally’s parents have been informed. What remains will be collected and a service may be held to commemorate her life. From what I hear, there isn’t much left of anyone to bury.’
Maureen felt the vomit rise in her throat. She’d guessed something of the sort, but to hear it put into words was horrifying.
‘You may go, nurse,’ Sister said and handed her a pass. ‘I am sorrier than I can tell you. It is most unfortunate to lose two good friends in this way.’
‘Yes…’ Maureen’s eyes stung with tears.
She walked away quickly because she couldn’t trust herself not to break down. Sally was gone – and what would that mean to her parents? Sally’s father might be a cold hard man who didn’t care, but his wife had cared. Even though Sally’s mother had loved her son most, she’d cared for her daughter – and now she had lost them both.
Outside in the compound, Maureen spewed out the vile vomit she’d held back in Sister’s office. Her chest felt as if it had a ten-ton weight sitting on it, and her throat was raw with grief, but she couldn’t cry yet. It hurt too much. Maureen would telephone Sally’s home when she got to London, because she wanted to attend the funeral, the church service anyway. She knew Sally’s father would not want her at any reception they might hold.
Feeling numb with grief, Maureen went through the motion of packing her things. The last time she’d been to London was for Sally’s brother’s funeral and now Sally was dead too.
It was almost more than she could bear. She avoided looking at Sally’s things, because it was too painful. They’d become so close and now it was over. Sally was dead and Maureen felt as if she’d been turned into stone…
Chapter 15
Peggy had a bit of a struggle to do her skirt up that morning. It was all the bread and pastry she ate these days, because there wasn’t much of anything else. She managed to close the zip at last, but realised it looked awful and took it off again, putting on a dress with a pleated skirt and short sleeves, which fitted much better. Satisfied, she went downstairs and got on with her work, leaving Nellie to take the last batch of pasties out when she went through to the bar to open up. She’d only just taken the cloths off the pumps when the door opened and someone walked in.
‘Maureen, love…’ Peggy’s smile slipped as she saw the look in the girl’s eyes. She put the bar flap up and came round to offer a hug, which Maureen accepted gratefully. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It was a bomb…’ Maureen choked as Peggy led her behind the bar and through to the kitchen, leaving Janet in charge of the bar. ‘Sally and some others – fifteen of them – went to a pub for a night out and they were all killed in a direct hit.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Peggy felt the tears sting her eyes as she took her friend into her arms and held her and for some minutes they just wept together. It was such a shocking thing to happen that she would have felt like crying even if she hadn’t known any of them personally, but she’d really liked Sally and thought of her as a girl she would love to know better. ‘That poor tragic girl…’
‘She asked me to go with them, but I wanted to study for my exams so I said I wouldn’t…’
‘Thank goodness you didn’t,’ Peggy said. ‘I would’ve lost another friend and I just can’t bear it…’ She took out her handkerchief and wiped her face, blowing her nose. ‘Do you remember Jim Stillman – he always brought me a box of vegetables from his allotment every week?’ Maureen nodded. ‘He was killed two weeks ago. He was helping clear some rubble from one of the bombed-out sites and there was another device no one knew about. It went off and killed two of the volunteers…’
‘This bloody war!’ Maureen said, anger bringing her head up fiercely. ‘I thought after that night in May when half of London looked like it was on fire, the Germans had had enough for a while, but it seems they’ve transferred their attentions elsewhere. We’re not the only ones catching it now. Coventry, Liverpool, Birmingham and a lot of the industrial towns are getting it worse.’
‘I think they thought if they could destroy London it would break us, but when that didn’t work they decided to hit areas that are crucial to the war effort, factories and shipping – besides, our boys in blue gave them a bloody nose when they thought to invade us…’
‘I know we expect them to try to hit the factories and the ports and airfields,’ Maureen said, ‘but it makes me sick to my stomach when they hit the hospital or just drop their damned bombs on random targets…’
Peggy nodded, because she felt the same way. ‘I expect we’re doing the same to them; according to the papers our raids on Germany are killing thousands,’ she said, ‘but killing innocent men, women and children doesn’t help anyone…’
Maureen swallowed hard. ‘I’d like to telephone Sally’s parents and find out when the funeral will be…’
‘You can use my phone,’ Peggy offered. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can ring them now. Go into the hall…’
She busied herself about the kitchen, bringing out a fatless sponge filled with her own strawberry jam, and setting the large brown pot on a tray. She’d just filled it with boiling water when Maureen walked in looking distressed.
‘They must be terribly upset…’ Peggy said. ‘It was awful for you, having to ask about the funeral…’
Maureen looked fit to burst. ‘Sally’s father answered. He said it would be a small service for family only and then he put the phone down. She didn’t have much family and I know she’d want me to be there…’
‘He really is a horrid man,’ Peggy said. ‘It’s no wonder Sally didn’t want to be at her home more than she had to. Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we can find out where it is somehow – and we’ll go together. They can’t stop us attending the service even if we’re not invited to the reception.’
‘I wouldn’t go to that anyway,’ Maureen said. ‘I just thought I’d like to attend the funeral, but now…’ She lifted her head proudly. ‘No, you’re right, Peggy. They can’t stop us going to the funeral even if they ignore us – and it will be Christ Church in Southwark; it was for her brother…’
‘Sit down and have a cup of tea,’ Peggy suggested. ‘We’ve all lost friends in this awful war. I just don’t know where it will end…’
‘I hope we win,’ Maureen said fiercely. ‘I hope they make that bloody Hitler pay for what he’s done…’
‘We’ll win,’ Peggy said confidently, even though the newspapers were busy spreading gloom and doom. ‘If you read what he’s doing to the Jews you can’t doubt he’s an evil man. We’re in the right, so we’ve got to win haven’t we?’
‘It makes you wish you were a man so you could go and shoot them…’
Peggy shook her head. ‘We have the worst of it, love. We’re the ones that have to wait and worry. I reckon we’re doing a good job now, especially you working all hours as a nurse.’
Maureen sighed. ‘I just want to hit back for Sally…’
‘Yes, I know. Alice was in here yesterday and she said the same thing about Jim Stillman, but all we can do is pray and hope, Maureen. We’ll pray for Sally in church and perhaps that will ease your pain a little.’
*
The church was almost empty, just Sally’s parents, an elderly woman who might have been her grandmother, and two young women who had probably gone to school with her. Peggy and Maureen sat a few rows behind them
, and when Sally’s father turned to look at them, Peggy stared him down. He was glaring at first but then he dropped his eyes and turned away as the service began.
It was short and there was only one hymn that no one but Peggy sang. Her sweet pure voice rang out above the mumbled grunts which were all that came from those in front. Peggy looked at Maureen, saw the tears in her eyes and squeezed her hand, her voice clear and somehow all the more poignant for being the only one. She saw the vicar nod at her approvingly as they sat once more and he concluded the prayers.
Peggy and Maureen had agreed previously that they wouldn’t follow out to the graveyard.
‘I can visit and take flowers anytime,’ Maureen said, ‘and I don’t want to intrude.’
They left as the small party of mourners shuffled out behind the coffin-bearers. Maureen looked round the rows of neat graves and took note of where her friend was being buried, but they didn’t wait. They’d had to catch a bus to come here and they went quickly to the stop and waited until another came along.
‘Thank you for singing that beautiful hymn,’ Maureen said. ‘It was lovely. I think Sally would have appreciated it…’
‘It was all I could do for her,’ Peggy said. ‘She was a lovely girl, Maureen, and I feel sorry that her life was cut short like that. So many folk are losing people they care about, but it was all so cold and clinical – and Sally deserved more.’
‘Yes, she did, but I don’t think people like her parents understand love…’ Maureen said and Peggy agreed. Sally’s parents seemed cold, unfeeling people who didn’t deserve a warm and loving daughter like Sally had been.
However, two days later, Peggy was serving in the bar when the door opened and a woman entered. She was well dressed in a smart black coat with a grey felt hat and it was a few minutes before Peggy realised that she was Sally’s mother.
‘Mrs Barnes?’ Peggy asked as the woman approached the bar rather tentatively. ‘Can I help you? Have you come to see Maureen?’
‘Yes – but I also wanted to thank you, for attending my daughter’s service, and for singing the way you did. I couldn’t sing a note that day and my husband never does, but it was so lovely – and my daughter was worthy of more…’
‘Sally was a wonderful girl and she didn’t deserve to die the way she did,’ Peggy lifted the flap. ‘Would you like to come through to the kitchen so that we can talk?’
‘Can you leave the bar?’
‘My daughter Janet will come through…’
Peggy had felt anger against Sally’s family, but she could see that Mrs Barnes was grieving. Obviously, her husband ruled her life and he’d wanted the small service, but Sally’s mother had felt it wasn’t right.
‘Thank you – you’re very kind. You don’t know me and I dare say you’ve heard nothing that makes you think I deserve anything other than what I’ve got…’
‘Now why should I think that? I have no right or reason to judge you, Mrs Barnes.’
Sally’s mother blinked and brushed at her cheek with her hand. Clearly upset and emotional, she was barely holding herself in check.
Janet went straight through to the bar, leaving Peggy and her guest in the kitchen. Maggie was building bricks in the playpen and Peggy saw her visitor look at her with what was obviously envy.
‘You’re so lucky to have a grandchild. I’d hoped I might – but it won’t happen now…’
‘I’m sorrier for your loss than you can imagine,’ Peggy said. ‘Maggie is a joy and I adore her, as Janet does. Her husband was injured at sea and he’s in hospital so that makes the child even more precious to us…’
‘I’m sorry to hear about her husband,’ Mrs Barnes said. ‘Do you run the pub on your own, Mrs Ashley?’
‘Please call me Peggy,’ she said with a smile. ‘I have help – Nellie does a lot of my cleaning for me and I have friends who come in and help with the bar. Maureen isn’t here much, but she will give me a hand when she is – and there are others…’
‘I have so few friends…’ Mrs Barnes sighed. ‘My husband was never very sociable, but now… it’s as if he’s closed right down and won’t speak to anyone. He hardly speaks to me some days – I’ve lost the friends I once used to ask in for dinner…’
‘I’m very sorry,’ Peggy said. ‘I expect he is grieving…’
‘Is he?’ Mrs Barnes shook her head. ‘He seems to be angry rather than grieving, as if he thought the children did it on purpose – especially Sally. He never wanted her to be a nurse and he was furious when they told us she was in a pub. My husband isn’t fond of public houses…’ she faltered. ‘If he knew I’d come here he would be angry.’
‘Then don’t tell him,’ Peggy said. ‘Men shouldn’t think they can dominate our lives in every respect, Mrs Barnes. A woman needs some freedoms.’
‘Your husband doesn’t help in the pub?’
‘He’s away workin’ for… the government,’ Peggy said, unsure of how to describe Laurie’s job. ‘Even if he were here, I shouldn’t allow him to control my life. I never have…’
‘Mr Barnes is so difficult. If I try to object or be independent he makes my life intolerable. It isn’t just the silence or the reproachful looks. He pushes his food away and shuts himself in his office – he has many ways of punishing me…’ Tears were rolling down her face. ‘I’m not sure why I told you that – I’ve never spoken of it to anyone, even the children, though I think my son knew. He tried to protect me many times and he said I should leave Mr Barnes…’
‘Why don’t you?’ Peggy asked. ‘It’s never been easier for a woman to find work than it is now. Why stay with a man like that when you could have a different life?’
‘I suppose I’ve always been too timid. I have nothing of my own – he gives me only the housekeeping money. Everything else is paid by him…’
‘Find a job and somewhere to live,’ Peggy advised. ‘Have you nothing at all you could sell?’
‘I suppose the silver candlesticks are mine. My father left them to me and I have a valuable cameo brooch that belonged to my grandmother…’ Mrs Barnes was clearly considering the idea of leaving her husband.
Peggy gave her a measuring look. ‘If you decided to leave you could come here. I have a room you can use – and I always need help in the bar. I dare say it isn’t what you’re used to, but it might be a way to make the break and then you could find more suitable work. Did you work before you married?’
‘I typed letters and accounts for my father…’
‘Well, then. Come here while you take a course to refresh your skills and then look for a job as a typist…’ Peggy smiled at her. ‘What should I call you?’
‘My name is Helen…’ she smiled tremulously. ‘You’re so kind and caring. I’ve never met anyone like you, Peggy…’
‘Well the offer is there,’ Peggy said. ‘Now, could you do with a teaspoonful of brandy in your tea? I certainly could…’
*
Peggy smiled as Helen thanked her and left the pub. Maureen, who had recently returned from visiting Rory, had brought her through and seemed thoughtful as she watched Sally’s mother leave.
Raising her brows, Peggy invited her friend to talk, ‘What did she actually come for?’
‘She wondered if I would like any of Sally’s things. Apparently, she has some nice clothes and Helen wondered if I could make use of them – it being so difficult to find anything decent in the shops. She probably just wanted to apologise for the way her husband spoke to me when I rang…’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ Peggy said. ‘I think she’s very lonely – she might leave her husband and come here for a while…’
‘Never! I wouldn’t have thought she would ever leave him. She has a posh house, and her clothes are good, though not very fashionable…’
‘Even if she has all you say and more, she’s very unhappy and I think she’s frightened of Mr Barnes…’
‘I’m not surprised. Sally was too, even though she stood up to him. Well, I hope Helen do
es walk out on him; he deserves it. Only, if she does, he might come here and drag her back…’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Peggy said. ‘Bullies are usually cowards. If he tries anything with me he’ll be sorry…’
Maureen burst out laughing. ‘I believe it. Oh, Peggy. I’m so glad I’ve got you and Gran…’ Tears were hovering beneath the surface and she smothered a sob.
‘What’s wrong, love?’ Peggy asked.
‘It’s Rory,’ Maureen said. ‘We had a row. He demanded that I give up my job and come back and marry him – and I said I was going to train to be a proper nurse, take all the exams and he said some awful things…’
‘Oh dear…’ Peggy put an arm about her shoulders. ‘Is he sure he isn’t still married to Velma?’
‘He managed to get confirmation of her prior marriage to someone called Fred Brown and he reckons that makes it all right for us to marry…’ Maureen drew a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what to do, Peggy…’
‘He’ll get over it,’ Peggy said. ‘He has to have a lot of treatment yet – besides, I’m not sure you could just walk out of your job like that. You must have signed a contract…’
‘I would have to give notice or just get married. They would probably throw me out then – that’s what Rory says…’
‘What do you want, love?’ Peggy looked at her. ‘Are you sure he’s the right one for you?’
‘I love Rory; at least, I think I do…’ Maureen sighed because recently she’d begun to wonder if she’d been deceiving herself. Rory knew how to turn on the charm when he chose and she’d been swept off her feet as a young girl, but then he’d married Velma. Now his marriage was over and he seemed to think he had a right to dictate to Maureen. She didn’t like his moods or his sullen manner when he wasn’t getting his own way, yet her conscience pricked at her, making her feel it would be mean to walk out on him when he’d been badly injured. ‘It’s just… I’ve begun to enjoy my work, Peggy. I feel it’s worthwhile and I don’t want to give it up. I begged him to wait, but he says if I loved him I’d want to be with him. He says he needs me here…’