The District Nurse

by Annie Groves

  Peggy nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what I think too. I didn’t at first, I was scared there was something wrong with me, but Ma said it’s more common than we know. So I won’t tell him in case he gets worried, and what good would that do? He’s most likely got enough to worry about.’

  A clinking of glasses announced Clarrie’s return, and Mattie moved back to her original spot beneath the apple tree. Clarrie came through and set the tray down on the raised stone step Flo had had put in so she could reach one end of the washing line. She caught sight of her friend’s red eyes.

  ‘You all right, Peggy?’ she asked.

  Peggy nodded. ‘It’s just a touch of early hay fever, came on all sudden,’ she insisted, and refused to meet Mattie’s gaze.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  May 1940

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with Charles lately,’ Mary pouted as she propped her bike in its slot in the rack. It was the end of a busy shift and she was fed up. ‘It’s too bad. He’s cancelled me again, and we were due to go to a matinee on Saturday afternoon. I was going to get my hair done and everything.’ She shook her hair free from her cap as if to emphasise the point.

  Edith made a face in sympathy. ‘He’s probably busy with whatever’s going on in Belgium. Isn’t he quite a big cheese behind the scenes?’

  ‘Obviously not big enough or he could get somebody else to do his work for him,’ Mary snapped. ‘What does he expect me to do, sit mooching around on my lonesome until Tommy Trinder comes on the wireless with In Town Tonight? Sorry, Edith, I shouldn’t take it out on you. You’ll have had a busy week as well.’

  Edith sighed as she secured her own bike in place. That was putting it mildly. On Tuesday she’d visited a woman in her late forties, who at first had been too shy to explain what the matter was. She wouldn’t say a word until her children had left the room, and even then she kept her voice low. ‘I don’t want my husband to come home from work and hear me, he won’t like it,’ she’d said, a tremor in her voice.

  Edith had waited, smiling encouragingly, until the woman screwed up her courage to explain. ‘I’m bleeding a bit where I shouldn’t. You know. I’m past all that, have been for a couple of years, but now it’s begun again, only not like before.’

  Edith had nodded, not wanting to alarm her patient but needing to know the details. She gently asked the necessary questions before telling her that she should see a doctor as soon as possible. ‘I can go with you, if you’d prefer,’ Edith had offered.

  ‘I don’t like to bother him, I’m probably being silly,’ the woman had protested. ‘It’s a nuisance more than anything as I never know when it’s going to happen.’

  Edith knew that such symptoms could be caused by any number of things, but that one explanation was potentially serious. ‘It’s Dr Patcham, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘He won’t mind. He’d rather you came and had your worries laid to rest than ignore something unusual. We’ll go together, shall we?’

  Finally the woman had agreed, and two days later Edith had accompanied her to see the genial old doctor, now back to full fitness after his accident six months ago. He had listened carefully, and examined her, and didn’t think she was wasting his time at all. He had sent her home with instructions to come back for a special clinic after the weekend, and then he had taken Edith to one side. ‘I’m afraid this could be cancer of the uterus,’ he said gravely. ‘Do you know what her circumstances are?’

  Edith had sighed. ‘I was half expecting that but hoping you’d say something different. She’s got three school-age children and a husband who works. I haven’t met him.’

  ‘So you don’t know how he would deal with a potentially sick wife?’

  ‘No, but she didn’t want him to know about it,’ Edith remembered. ‘I am not sure if that simply means she was embarrassed or that he’d react badly.’

  ‘Well, my dear Nurse Gillespie, you might be required to lend your support to this poor woman if my fears prove to be correct,’ he’d said.

  This was what had been uppermost in Edith’s mind as she’d parked her bike, and Mary’s complaints about Charles had rather fallen on deaf ears. Edith churlishly thought that at least her boyfriend was in London, safe for now in his desk job, unlike Harry, facing who-knew-what in France somewhere. He’d triumphed in his first army boxing tournament, and she was proud of him for that, but she’d rather a thousand times that he was home safe. She shook her head. No point in wishing for what couldn’t be.

  ‘Did you hear the news?’ Alice greeted them as they entered the common room. ‘We’ve got a new prime minister. Winston Churchill’s taking over from Neville Chamberlain.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mary, still too cross about Charles’s behaviour to think about anything else.

  Alice frowned, as it was the most important thing to happen for ages, in her opinion, but having to realise that not everyone was as keen on such matters as she was.

  ‘Right, well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ asked Edith, who had gathered that lots of people thought Churchill was the right man to lead the war effort. ‘He’ll take us to victory, won’t he?’

  ‘If anyone can,’ said Alice, with as much hope in her voice as she could manage. She’d picked up worrying indications in the newspapers that things weren’t going well, and couldn’t help wondering what was going on, particularly for all the young men they knew fighting in France. As for Joe, she had no idea where he was at the moment, as his letters gave little away and arrived so infrequently it was hard to guess what he was doing. She wasn’t sure what she felt about that. For some reason she thought about his safety more than she’d expected to. ‘Shall we listen to the wireless?’

  ‘I’m going to have a cup of tea and then I’m going upstairs,’ said Mary flatly, heading off to make her drink.

  Edith pulled a face. ‘Don’t ask her,’ she warned Alice. ‘She’s like a bear with a sore head. Charles is too busy to take her out at the weekend and she’s fed up.’

  ‘I dare say he’s got other things on his mind,’ suggested Alice.

  ‘Just what I said. Honestly, I’m going to run out of patience with her soon,’ confessed Edith. ‘When she’s got him nearby and Harry’s all the way over in France, I just want to scream. I miss him so much. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so bad-tempered, it’s been one of those weeks.’

  ‘I know.’ Alice gave her friend a hug. ‘Let’s do something nice at the weekend, go to the cinema or a concert if there’s one on.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. Let’s do that,’ Edith agreed, trying to sound cheerful, although she’d have given a lifetime of concerts for one night out with Harry. ‘We could check the paper. Where is it?’

  Alice smiled. ‘It’s over in the corner, where Gladys left it.’

  That really did brighten Edith up. ‘Isn’t it good that she can read it now?’ she said. ‘She might be ready to go on that Civil Nursing Reserve course soon. Well done, Alice, that was down to you.’

  ‘You helped,’ Alice pointed out. She picked up the local newspaper and flicked through the pages. ‘There’s a George Formby film on at the Regal, how about that?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ Edith knew that would cheer her up. ‘Let’s see if Mary wants to come along too,’ she added generously. ‘Might take her mind off the dashing captain.’

  Mary enjoyed the George Formby film despite herself, and by a miracle on Sunday afternoon Charles somehow found time to take her out after all. The next week Edith accompanied her worried patient to the specialist clinic, where following a pelvic examination it was found that she did not have cancer after all. Edith took her home and then went to see Dr Patcham again. He admitted he was mightily relieved, as he’d heard on the grapevine that the husband was a notorious drinker and he would have had grave cause for concern if he had been left to cope with a sick wife and three young children. ‘So there’s much to be thankful for,’ he said.

  Edith tried to hang on to his words, and she repeated them to Alice when they sat down for th
eir evening meal of corned beef and mashed potatoes. Alice nodded, keeping to herself the fears which were increasing day by day. She knew it made no difference, but she now read every newspaper she could find, as well as listening to news bulletins on the wireless. It seemed as if all was far from well in France and the Low Countries. The BEF was not succeeding as they’d hoped.

  As the days went by her dread grew, and yet she carried on with her work, sharing with Edith the nursing of Dennis, the teenager with TB they’d both become so fond of, patching up a child who’d run into the road in front of a bus and was lucky to have avoided hospital, helping out at the ongoing first-aid classes, and even finding time for a quick cup of tea with Janet Phipps, who was worn to a frazzle by all the changes at St Benedict’s. The weather grew warmer and the May evenings grew lighter, the blossom appeared on the trees and the birds sang loudly. If she could only have ignored the papers and wireless, she could have convinced herself that all was well with the world.

  All was far from well, and towards the end of the month it became clear that the BEF was losing ground. It was eventually ordered to withdraw towards the port cities. What followed then was something few of them would ever forget. The army had retreated as far as it could and congregated in a French town by the name of Dunkirk.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  June 1940

  Stan swung open the kitchen door and inhaled the delicious smell of one of his wife’s stews. So far rationing hadn’t stopped Flo producing tasty meals, and he wished above anything he could sit down and join his family at the table right now.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ he said as Flo turned to greet him. ‘This is a flying visit. I’ve got to cover someone’s shift tonight.’

  Flo frowned. ‘But you worked last night. Surely they can’t expect you to go on patrol every night. That’s not right.’

  Stan came across to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I know, love, but it’s an emergency. I’m covering Billy’s shift.’

  Mattie pushed open the back door and came in from the garden, overhearing her father’s remark. She stopped dead in her tracks, on the threshold between the back kitchen and kitchen proper. ‘Why? Whatever’s happened to Billy? Is something wrong?’

  Stan looked at his daughter and gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘Have you heard the news on the wireless at all?’

  Mattie shook her head. ‘We’ve just had the music on. Singing along helps the housework get done quicker.’

  Stan nodded in understanding but he had to tell them what was going on. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good news from France. Hitler’s got our boys on the run, and they’re going to try to evacuate the whole army. That’s where Billy’s gone.’

  Mattie turned and called into the back garden: ‘Kath, you’d better get in here and listen to this.’ She rested her hand protectively over her stomach, which was just beginning to show its new bump.

  Kathleen ran in, wiping her hands on her cotton frock, followed by Gillian and Brian, both now much steadier on their feet. Their hands were covered in sand, as Stan had recently built a tiny sandpit for them. Kathleen made them wait in the back kitchen where she could clean them up at the sink.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked in a voice full of foreboding.

  Stan repeated what he’d said and went on to explain that all available small ships and even little boats were crossing the Channel to join the rescue. ‘Billy knew some lads down the docks who could get hold of an old boat,’ he said steadily. ‘They thought it was their duty to go, even though they haven’t sailed beyond the mouth of the Thames for years. Billy says she’s seaworthy and they needed an extra hand, so I told him I’d cover his ARP shift. That young man is a hero, whether or not he’s actually in the armed services.’

  Kathleen’s face went white. ‘Billy’s doing that? But he can’t swim. He never learned, he told me.’

  Flo came across and put her arm around Kathleen’s shoulders, which had started to shake. ‘Don’t take on, Kathleen. He won’t need to swim. He’ll just have to do what the others tell him, pull on a rope or whatnot.’

  Kathleen nodded slowly. ‘I hope so, I really do.’ Yet again it struck her that she’d overlooked Billy’s qualities too easily. He’d set off with no hesitation to save others and with no thought for his own safety. That was typical of him.

  Mattie shut her eyes and swayed a little. ‘Oh God, I hope he finds Lennie. I do hope he finds him and brings him home. Don’t let Lennie be hurt. I couldn’t stand it. Not my Lennie.’

  Flo let go of Kathleen and hugged her daughter. ‘Hush, Mattie. We don’t know Lennie’s there at all.’

  ‘Or Harry!’ Mattie cried, all her exasperation and irritation at her brother’s annoying ways forgotten at the prospect of his being injured, or worse. She looked at Stan and realised this was exactly what had been on his mind too. ‘He’s in France, we know he is.’

  ‘Sit down, my love.’ Flo quickly pulled a chair from the table and helped Mattie lower herself onto it. ‘We don’t know anything for sure. Worrying won’t help. We have to be strong, for the children. Chin up, my girl. Don’t let Gillian see you cry. We don’t want her upset as well.’

  Mattie nodded dumbly.

  ‘I’ll make you a sandwich, Stan, to take with you, and you can have your stew at whatever time you get back,’ Flo said, while Kathleen busied herself tidying up the children, who hadn’t understood what was going on but had picked up on the atmosphere and realised the adults weren’t happy. Hastily she held each of them up to the sink and washed their grubby hands, singing a nursery rhyme under her breath to soothe them.

  Stan took the cheese and pickle sandwich that Flo had hastily wrapped in greaseproof paper and tucked it into his inner pocket. ‘Thanks, love. Right, I’d best be off. I’ll bring back as much news as I can but don’t be surprised if we don’t hear anything for a while. Try not to give in to worry when we don’t know what’s really gone on.’

  He quickly gave Flo a peck on the cheek and was gone.

  Mattie stared at the door. ‘Now what do we do?’ she breathed.

  Flo came and sat beside her. Her heart was leaden but she tried to inject as much hope into her voice as she could. ‘I’m afraid we wait.’

  They waited like so many others in cities, towns and villages across the country. Everyone was desperately hoping that their loved ones had survived and were unhurt; nobody could say when they would know for sure. In Victory Walk, the nurses went about their business as usual, but many did so with heavy hearts. Edith was far from the only one to fear the worst while hoping for the best. She rode her bike to her regular roster of patients and managed to talk sensibly to a few new ones, yet largely with her mind elsewhere. She was relieved that she hadn’t had to break bad news to anyone; if the woman she had recently seen had been diagnosed with cancer and her difficult husband had caused problems, Edith doubted she would have been able to cope.

  Fiona Dewar somehow knew what the matter was, in the way that she seemed to know most things about her charges’ personal lives, and kept an eye on Edith, making sure she wasn’t overburdened with new cases or required to do too many extra activities, unless she volunteered for them. Others could teach the first-aid course, for a start.

  Alice watched over Edith like a hawk, keen to protect her as far as she could in this agonising period of not knowing. She also waited anxiously for news of Dermot and Mark; Dermot had written a few letters since he’d left London, just so that she knew they were both all right. She had no idea if their being doctors would have meant they were safer or not. What she did know was that neither of them was likely to run away from a fight.

  She had no idea if Joe might have been caught up in the evacuation. His whereabouts were a mystery. There was no real reason why he would contact her, either, but she hoped for his sake and his family’s that he was safe, somewhere, wherever it might be. That image of him in the back kitchen at Christmas kept coming into her mind, and that sensation that he was there was something betw
een them, something he wanted to say or do or was troubling him. She realised she very much wanted to find out what it might have been, all the while banishing the little voice that taunted her: ‘Maybe there won’t be a next time.’ She had to stay optimistic, for Edith’s sake.

  Mary had immediately ceased her complaining about Charles when she understood what he had most likely been doing, frantically planning the army’s defence in France and the Low Countries. She also apologised to Edith for being thoughtless, thoroughly ashamed that she’d gone on and on about the captain’s unavailability when Harry and his comrades had been facing heaven knew what dangers. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she tried to assure her friend. ‘If any Germans come near him he’ll punch them on the nose and knock them out.’ Edith had tried to smile back, knowing the remark was well meant, but she doubted Harry would be able to get away so easily.

  Gladys took to surreptitiously clearing up after Edith, going far beyond the boundaries of her job, because she didn’t want Edith to feel bad when she forgot to wash her mug or put away the cocoa. Gladys was fiercely fond of Edith, as one of the two nurses who had taken steps to help her when she’d finally admitted to being unable to read. Her loyalty to Edith and Alice was unshakable. Woe betide any of the others who made a thoughtless comment about Edith’s sudden absent-mindedness.

  Even Gwen relented from her usual remorseless drive for perfection in all fields, not taking Edith to task when she put things away wrongly in the district room or hung up her cloak on somebody else’s peg. Edith didn’t notice but Alice did and was quietly amazed. Of course, if it had been a major mistake with a patient put at risk, that would have been a different matter. But Edith held herself together when on her rounds, and so Gwen for once cut her some slack.

  Kathleen lifted Brian into his pram and set off to try to buy meat. She left early, as every kind was rationed now and she knew she faced the prospect of queuing at several different shops if she wanted to come home with the meagre portion her coupons allowed. First she tried for ham, but that had sold out. Then she went to another shop she’d registered at in the hope they would have bacon, but there was none of that either. The third shop, nearly all the way up to Stamford Hill, had just received a delivery of sausages, and had some fresh eggs too, so even though she’d had to walk further than usual she came back with enough for several meals, along with aching shoulders from pushing an increasingly heavy Brian.