by Molly Green
‘Good, I’m glad you think so,’ Matron said crisply. ‘Now, if you’ll just leave me to get on with what I was doing, trying to decide where the beds could go, et cetera. Goodnight, Miss Lavender.’
‘I do wish you’d call me June.’
Matron pursed her lips and put her hand up in a dismissive gesture. ‘That will be all, Miss Lavender.’ She turned on her heel, her shoes clopping loudly on the flagstone floor.
June stared after the determined figure. Matron’s hand had been shaking. Why? As far as she knew, Matron wasn’t sickening for anything. And she couldn’t have been that angry just to see her assistant come down to the cellar. Was she embarrassed that she’d been caught doing something that June had suggested? Or was it something more ominous?
If she went back upstairs she’d never get the chance to have a quiet word with Matron about seeing Murray. Drawing herself up to her full height and squaring her shoulders, she decided she would speak to her there and then. But Matron had turned her back to June and already marched off.
Give her a few minutes, June thought. Matron had stirred her curiosity.
She counted to a hundred, then counted again, and walked through the cellar, noting various alcoves and rooms leading from the main area where the stairs were. She heard Matron sneeze again. She must be coming down with a cold.
The sneeze came from a room on her left. Quietly she opened it. From the smell it was a wine cellar. Of course. It would be where Lord Bingham had kept his wine. He wouldn’t have had time to crate it all up if he and his family had left in a hurry. Yes, there was Matron sitting on an upright chair by a table on which stood a bottle of wine – the cork already out. That must have been the popping noise she heard.
‘How dare you come here spying on me!’ Matron leaped up, knocking over her glass. Red liquid spilt out, running into rivulets down the table leg.
‘I’m sorry, Matron.’ June took a step forward. ‘But I came down to the cellar to find you to ask you something and you didn’t give me a chance. It’s nothing to do with spying on you.’
‘Well, now you’ve seen I like the odd glass of wine.’ Matron glared at her.
‘What you do is none of my business,’ June pursued. ‘But there’s an emergency and—’
‘One of the children?’ Matron barked.
‘No, no. Nothing with any of the children.’ June looked pityingly at the figure across the table. Matron was obviously most uncomfortable with June finding her in such a position.
‘Then what is it?’ Matron drew her shaggy eyebrows together suspiciously.
‘My friend, Murray – you know, the pilot – he’s been found alive but badly injured. I wondered if I could have a few days off to go and see him.’
‘What’s the extent of this injury?’
‘I don’t know exactly.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In East Grinstead. Special burns unit. I would dearly like to see him. They say he’s in a bad state and won’t talk to anyone. I’d be back in no time if you’d allow it.’
Matron’s eyes were on June’s face and June felt she could see the workings of the woman’s mind. If she didn’t grant the girl some leave, there was no telling what she’d get up to. June might report her to one of the directors of Dr Barnardo’s – tell them Matron was a secret drinker. No, that would never do.
‘East Grinstead, you say? Do you know where that is?’
June shook her head.
‘It’s Sussex. Hundreds of miles away.’
‘I’d still like to go and see him,’ June said obstinately.
‘I suppose we can manage for a few days,’ Matron finally conceded, allowing her lips to form a smile which didn’t even attempt to reach her eyes. ‘I suppose you’d like to go tomorrow?’ She reached in her apron pocket and took out a handkerchief and blew her nose.
‘Yes, if that’s all right,’ June said. ‘I’m really grateful. I don’t think he’ll ever fly again and that’s why he’s in such a bad way.’ She paused. ‘I heard you sneezing,’ she began tentatively. ‘Are you coming down with a cold?’
‘Of course not. It’s all this dust. For goodness’ sake, go back upstairs and get on with your work.’
‘Thank you, Matron. I’ll get back to work right away.’
When June returned to the main house, she didn’t tell anyone about discovering Matron in the cellar. It was too delicate a situation. But she was sure, after her experience with Billy Lavender and her own mother, that Matron’s shaking hand was connected with drinking too much. She remembered how nervous Matron had been when Mr Clarke came to see her from Stepney Causeway. How her hand that held the teacup trembled. She’d thought at the time that Matron was simply angry, but now she had more worries than ever that the woman was not fit to be in charge of an orphanage.
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘The train for Euston Station is about to leave on Platform 3. Will all persons not travelling please step down from the train.’
The journey took the best part of the day. As usual the carriages were packed, and because the weather was so warm, June felt smothered in the small space. She had to make several changes but finally her last train pulled into East Grinstead.
She asked the porter how far the hospital was from the station.
‘Bit over a mile, love,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve just missed the bus and there won’t be another one along for an hour. You should probably get a taxi.’
Finding one was not so easy. She stood in the taxi rank in a long queue. It was beginning to drizzle and she pulled her sou’wester down, hoping it wasn’t going to be much of a shower.
The queue didn’t move for several minutes, until finally a taxi drew up and she was grateful to see four people immediately take possession, but still it was another fifteen minutes before she reached the head of the queue.
‘Where to, Miss?’ the driver asked. He looked as dismal as the rain, which had become heavier.
She gave him a smile. ‘Queen Victoria Hospital. I’m sorry I’m so wet. I’ll probably drip all over your seat.’
‘Don’t worry about that, love,’ the driver said, smiling back. ‘Jump in.’
East Grinstead seemed to have escaped any bombing, June thought, as she peered out of the taxi window. It was almost more unusual to see a town intact than one which had had large areas smashed to pieces.
‘Are you visiting someone in the burns unit?’ the taxi driver asked.
‘Yes.’ June hesitated, but he gave her such a kindly smile it seemed rude not to say something more. ‘I’m visiting a pilot who was shot down.’
‘Sorry to hear that, love. There’s quite a few of our boys in there with terrible burns but they’ve got a surgeon who performs miracles, so we’re told. I hope you don’t find your young man too bad.’
June swallowed. ‘Thank you,’ she managed as he nodded and drove off.
Once inside she made her way to the reception desk. Two tired-looking middle-aged ladies stood behind it chatting to each other.
‘Good afternoon,’ June began. ‘I’ve come to visit Flight Lieutenant Murray Andrews.’
One of the ladies flipped through some papers. ‘He’s in Ward 5.’ She gestured toward a pair of swing doors. ‘Through those doors, down the corridor, turn left and it’s the first door on the left. You can’t miss it.’ She looked up at June. ‘Good luck, dear.’
June’s heart was in her throat as she walked along the corridor, the smell of polished lino in her nose, her shoes making a clacking sound at every step she took. The nearer she got to Ward 5, the more worried she became. If Murray was terribly injured maybe they wouldn’t allow her in. After all, she wasn’t family – or his wife.
What kind of condition was Murray really in, inside his head? she wondered. He was bound to be feeling low and she only hoped she would be able to cheer him up. Let him know she was thinking of him. One moment she felt confident that all would be well, and the next that she had no business to be here af
ter all.
A nurse passed her and smiled and nodded, followed by a tall, thin, white-coated doctor who didn’t acknowledge her at all but simply hurried by, his mind obviously on more important things than a young woman visiting a burns patient.
A smell of disinfectant mixed with a strong carbolic soap greeted her. Probably used to disguise all sorts of other worse smells, she thought grimly, though the general appearance of the hospital, though shabby and in need of decorating, was spotlessly clean. Her heart began to pound as she saw the sign: Ward 5. She opened the door and stepped up to the desk.
‘Name of the person?’ asked a nurse with dark curly hair escaping from under her cap. She reminded June of Iris, but it was soon evident that this was in appearance only.
‘Flight Lieutenant Murray Andrews.’
‘Relationship?’
‘Um – friend. A close friend.’
‘Hmm. Let me check.’ She flipped through a file. ‘As I thought,’ she said, almost triumphantly. ‘No visitors.’
‘B-but I’ve come—’
‘I’m sorry.’ The nurse picked up a telephone and began to dial, an expression of dismissal clear on her smooth, healthy features.
June fought back her frustration. She chewed her lip, wondering what to do next. Perhaps something to eat and a cuppa.
A visitor pushing an old man in a wheelchair told her where she’d find the canteen. She chose an egg sandwich but as soon as she took the first bite she felt she would choke. Surely she hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Murray would be so upset to think she’d been right outside the ward and hadn’t been allowed in. A wave of determination swept over her. No, she wouldn’t give up. She’d explain the distance she’d travelled and that she was sure it would help Murray if he could see someone he knew.
She managed another bite of her sandwich and finished her cup of tea, and fifteen minutes later she was back in Ward 5. To her delight there was a different nurse on the desk who looked up and gave her a welcoming smile.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve come to see Flight Lieutenant Murray Andrews.’
‘Wait one moment,’ the new nurse said. She checked the list and her smile faded. ‘It says, “No Visitors”. I’m so sorry.’
‘But I’ve come all this way,’ June said. ‘Is he so badly hurt that he’s not allowed to see anyone?’ She tried to brace herself for the answer.
‘He’s had major surgery,’ the nurse frowned, reading the notes. ‘But I can’t see why—’ She broke off. ‘Oh, I see.’ She looked up at June. ‘It’s not that he’s not allowed visitors, because he is.’
‘Then what is it?’ June tried to keep the impatient note out of her voice.
‘He doesn’t want to see anyone.’
‘No one at all?’ June couldn’t help her shocked tone.
‘It doesn’t say specifically …’ The nurse looked directly at her. ‘I suppose you’re his girlfriend. I could give you ten minutes. Would that do?’
June didn’t correct the nurse’s assumption that she was Murray’s girlfriend. If only she was.
‘Yes, that would be wonderful,’ she said, managing a smile.
‘Go through that glass door. He’s in the far corner by the window.’ The nurse waved her hand. ‘If he’s asleep I’d prefer you to come back later.’
‘I will.’
She wouldn’t. She’d wait for however long it took for him to wake up.
The figure at the far end of the ward was lying flat with a couple of pillows under his head. One of his arms was resting on the top of the bedcover, heavily bandaged. When she was close enough June noticed there was dark bruising under his eyes, which were closed. She was aware of the nurse’s last words but she wasn’t going to heed them. This might be her only opportunity. With beating heart she tiptoed to the near side of his bed.
‘Murray, it’s me – June.’
Murray’s eyelids fluttered open, but not before she saw the thin red wound, like a vertical slice, on one of them. For an instant she thought she saw a flash of joy on his face, and she smiled at him encouragingly. But his next words made her flinch.
‘No, don’t want … how did you get in? I said I didn’t want any visitors. Please go.’
June watched the increased rise and fall of his chest as his breathing grew agitated. She felt sick. She’d made an awful mistake thinking Murray would be pleased to see her. She had to explain before it was too late.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been before but it’s taken me ages to find out even where you were stationed,’ she said in a rush. ‘And then everyone was reluctant to tell me where you were. I was shocked you’d been injured. As soon as I heard I asked Matron if I could have a few days’ leave to come and see you. She didn’t want to at first and I almost had to beg her.’ She knew she was running on, trying to fill the awkward silence.
She willed him to speak to her but there was no reaction at all.
Then he said, ‘June …’ His voice didn’t even sound like him. It was dull and resigned.
She bent over him. ‘Yes, Murray,’ she said softly.
‘It would be better for you to go.’ His eyelids flickered down, the right one with the wound almost reproaching her.
So that was it. He didn’t want anything from her whatsoever. Tears stung her eyes and she turned away, her hope shattered.
A sigh escaped Murray’s lips. ‘It was a long way to come for nothing. I’m sorry.’
She barely heard the words but his tone was enough to stop her in her tracks. She spun round and was by his bed in an instant.
‘It’s me who should be sorry,’ June said. ‘I should have telephoned the hospital. Made sure you didn’t mind me coming to visit. I didn’t even think.’ She blinked to stop the tears. He mustn’t see her upset. He was already upset enough himself. ‘I’ve misjudged everything.’
‘No, no. It’s me. It’s this bloody war.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No.’ Murray turned his head away.
‘It might help if you do.’ This was awful. She wasn’t getting through to him at all. Her heart ached with wanting to reach him.
‘I won’t be able to fly again,’ he suddenly blurted. ‘And worse – I’ve lost so many friends, I’ve given up counting. One of them’s in the next bed. Shorty.’ He hoisted himself up and jerked his head over to the left where a figure with a heavily bandaged face lay quietly. Then he fell back on to the pillows, his chest heaving with exertion.
‘Oh, Murray, I’m so sorry.’
He turned his head. ‘Could you prop me up?’
‘Of course.’ She busied herself with his pillows, keeping her head turned from him so he couldn’t see her tears welling.
‘Can you give me some water?’ He jerked his head. ‘Over there.’
She watched as he held a beaker of water with his good hand and drank thirstily.
‘What do you think you’re doing in here?’
June looked up startled. The nurse who’d reminded her of Iris was glaring at her with open dislike.
‘I thought I’d told you Flight Lieutenant Andrews specifically requested that he does not want any visitors – at all. And that means you too, Miss.’
‘I think he wants to see his fiancée,’ June said quickly, pressing Murray’s shoulder surreptitiously.
‘His fiancée? You didn’t tell me you were his fiancée. Why didn’t you say so?’ The nurse’s tone softened a fraction. ‘I’ll give you two more minutes. Not a second longer. And that’s an order.’ She spun on her heel.
‘She can be a dragon, that one, but she’s got a good heart.’ Murray looked at June curiously. ‘My fiancée?’
‘I wouldn’t have got in if she hadn’t thought I was someone in the family,’ she said, bending her head and smoothing the sheet, hoping he wouldn’t notice her red cheeks. ‘It was the first thing I could think of. I was determined she wasn’t going to send me away again.’
Murray didn’t say anythi
ng for a few moments. Then he said, ‘Where are you staying?’
‘At a bed-and-breakfast, not far.’ Should she say more? The two minutes would be up soon.
‘Will you come tomorrow, Junie?’
She couldn’t tell whether he was looking straight at her, as his injured eye was terribly bloodshot and didn’t seem to be focusing properly. But he’d used his old name for her. Warmth flooded her whole being. ‘That’s why I’ve come,’ she said. ‘To see you as often as I can before I have to go back. Matron’s let me off for a few days.’
‘I’m glad.’
June leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She was rewarded with the hint of a smile.
‘I suppose we have a lot to talk about,’ he said quietly.
Chapter Thirty-Four
He shouldn’t have let her go like that without saying anything important. He could tell by her voice, her trembling hand when she’d touched him, that she was terribly hurt he’d treated her so off-handedly when she’d first arrived. Letting her know in no uncertain terms that he’d specifically asked for no visitors – although he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined she would be his first.
What a dear girl she was. He loved her for telling the nurse she was his fiancée so she could get in to see him. What a wonderful wife she’d make for some lucky chap. But it wouldn’t be him. He wasn’t the man she’d first met on that train to Liverpool any more.
He’d never thought he’d see her again. He’d had no idea where she was headed for, that day. Hadn’t thought to ask, he’d been in such a spin by her beauty. He’d tried to find her when they’d reached Liverpool but she’d been swallowed up in the crowds and he’d had to tell himself it was just one of those things. A chance encounter. Yet he’d never been able to get her out of his mind.
Seeing those green eyes flash in indignation when she’d tried to get by in the corridor of the train. He’d deliberately blocked her way so he could look at her for a few more moments. And then she’d stepped into the very bookshop where he’d been trying to get hold of a map. And as far as he was concerned, that was it. He never ever wanted any other woman.