A Nurse's Duty

by Maggie Hope

  ‘It would kill Da if it came out and everyone was talking about it,’ she said.

  Guilt flooded over Karen. She hung her head and closed her eyes tightly. Dear God, she thought, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt them, of course I don’t. But what can I do?

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, Karen went with her family to the morning service in Chapel. There were quite a few heads turned their way as they walked down the aisle but most of them were smiling and there were some whispered greetings for her. It wasn’t until she was seated beside Kezia and the service began that Karen realized that the preacher was Dr Robert Richardson. The Minister was taking the service in the main chapel of the circuit, she had expected that, but when Robert climbed into the pulpit Karen whispered to Kezia: ‘I didn’t know Robert was a lay preacher.’

  ‘Yes, he’s been doing it for a year or two now. A good one an’ all,’ Kezia answered.

  Robert was announcing the hymn, a Charles Wesley one: ‘And can it be that I should gain an interest in the Saviour’s Blood?’

  The congregation stood to sing and Karen gazed at Robert as he stood, hymn book firmly in his hand even though he had no reason to look down at it, he knew the words so well. They all did. His voice rang out in a clear baritone, strong and true. He looked fit and well; he must be over the trouble he had had which had brought him back from Africa, she mused.

  The hymn came to a close and there was a rustling as they all sat down. Robert waited until it was absolutely quiet before commencing to pray. It was when he finished the prayer and opened his eyes to look out over the congregation that he saw Karen. He stared at her, his face full of surprise. She smiled slightly. He faltered in his announcement of the next hymn, mixing up the numbers, but the next minute he had corrected himself and apologized, carrying on with reading out the first lines of the hymn.

  Robert barely glanced at her as he read the notices and the stewards took up the collection. Later on he gave a well thought out sermon which had Kezia and Luke nodding their heads in approval. As the service ended and they all filed out to shake hands with the preacher, Karen hung behind so that she would be the last one out and able to have a few words with him. Robert kept glancing at the door. As she came near he stepped forward and took her hand. He held it, smiling down at her gently.

  ‘Hallo, Karen,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad to see you.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you, Robert,’ she said. ‘Especially as you seem so much better than the last time I saw you.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ he answered. ‘Are you home for long?’

  ‘For good. At least, I’m not going back to Essex. On Monday I’m going up into Weardale to stay with my grandmother.’

  ‘Would you like to come back with us for a bite of dinner, Doctor?’ Mam interposed. ‘We’ve plenty and to spare and you’d be very welcome.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Knight, I’d be pleased to,’ said Robert, and they all walked the few steps to the house next-door.

  The back door was handier for anyone coming from the Chapel and a mouth-watering smell of roast beef emanated from the oven as they went into the kitchen. Robert sniffed appreciatively.

  ‘Smells good, Mrs Knight,’ he commented. ‘Do you mind if I sit in here? I’ll keep out of your way. I’m not really a front room sort of person.’

  Mam smiled at him. ‘I know, lad. You’re welcome to sit wherever you like.’

  After a while, Da came in from his service in a neighbouring Chapel and he and Robert began an animated conversation about an article in that week’s Methodist Recorder. Karen tied an apron over her Sunday dress and mixed up a large bowl of Yorkshire pudding to go with the meat.

  Robert kept glancing up at her as she moved to and fro from the table to the oven, and once or twice she caught his eye and smiled at him. For all his well-cut suit and fine linen, she thought he looked at ease, almost at home in the shabby living-room cum kitchen. She wondered if he was still friendly with Sean, Father Donelly. Had they discussed her when Sean came back from Essex? The thought made her feel uncomfortable and she looked over at Robert again and saw he was watching her, though bending his head courteously to listen to her father. No, she decided, he would not discuss her with anyone, he was an honourable man.

  After lunch, Robert suggested that they take a walk together.

  ‘To catch up on things,’ he said.

  ‘Aye, go on, Karen,’ said Mam approvingly. ‘It’ll do you good. You look as though you could do with a mite of fresh air.’

  Karen was glad to get outside. The smell of the meal had become oppressive to her and she was feeling slightly queasy. They walked along the top of the rows and took the path across the fields which led to Old Morton village. The day was fine but there was a bracing wind blowing down from the dale and Karen buttoned up the serge collar of her coat, thinking longingly of her nurse’s cloak, so warm and all-enveloping. They walked in silence for a while.

  ‘Why did you really come home, Karen?’

  The question sounded abrupt in the silence and she looked up, startled and blushing furiously. Had Father Donelly spoken to him?

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. But Robert had stopped walking. Taking her hand, he gazed earnestly at her.

  ‘Karen, perhaps this is not the time, you’ve only just come back, but I know your husband was killed, your father told me. You are a widow now, free to marry again. You know how I feel about you.’

  ‘But Robert, you don’t know me, not as I am now. It’s years since we saw each other. How can you possibly still love me?’

  ‘I do,’ he asserted. ‘I’ve never loved anyone else. I always thought you would come back one day. I thought you would have Mitchell declared dead after the decreed time had elapsed and I was willing to wait, but now there’s no need, is there? You are free.’

  Karen gently pulled her arm out of his grasp and walked on up the path towards a stand of ash trees, their limbs still bare and brown with only the faintest hint of buds to come. Marry Robert? How could she marry him? How could she marry anyone, feeling as she did about Patrick? And Robert especially, he was almost a stranger to her after all this time. Besides, once he found out about the baby he would change his mind, of course he would. No man wanted to bring up another man’s child.

  ‘Karen?’ Robert was close behind her. ‘Karen, it’s too soon isn’t it? I should have had more sense than ask you when you’ve only just come back. It was … well, when I saw you in Chapel this morning, looking up at me as you did, I thought – I hoped you had come back to see me. Daft, I know, but Karen, I do love you. I’ve never looked at another girl. If I can’t have you, I’ll have no one.’

  ‘Oh, Robert,’ she said helplessly. ‘You don’t know anything about me, the woman I am now.’

  ‘I know I shouldn’t have spoken so soon, I was too precipitate. I’ll wait a while. We’ll get to know each other again. Karen, we could have a fine life together, I know we could.’

  ‘I’m going to stay with Gran in Weardale,’ she pointed out. ‘I won’t be here, you won’t see me.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I have the car, I’ll come up and see you sometimes. Won’t you say I can do that?’

  ‘Well – ’

  He was quick to catch the note of hesitation. ‘I’ll do that then, I’ll visit you when I can. I promise I won’t try to pressure you any more – not for a while at least.’

  Karen gazed at his earnest, handsome face, his broad, well-developed shoulders. Broad enough to shelter any girl, she thought dumbly. Oh, why could it not have been Robert? Deliberately, she looked away, over the fields to the minehead and chimney stack, smokeless today as it was Sunday. The sky was darkening and there was a hint of rain in the freshening wind. She shivered.

  ‘Come now, we’ll go back,’ said Robert, seeing the shiver. He took her hand and held it firmly over his arm. As they walked she could feel the warmth of him through the broad cloth of his coat. He was turned slightly
towards her, shielding her from the biting wind.

  Robert, she thought, and for a moment she was tempted to agree to marry him. He would be the answer to all her troubles. But she knew it was only a fancy; she could not bear to have anyone but Patrick. And then there was the baby growing inside her. They parted at the end of the row and she watched as his tall figure disappeared in the direction of Old Morton. Drearily, she went back inside.

  Next morning, in the cold little bedroom in Chapel Row, Karen was packing her boxes once again in readiness for the train to Bishop Auckland where she could catch a connection to Stanhope in Weardale, the nearest town to her grandmother’s isolated moorland farm.

  ‘You’re sure there’s nothing the matter, Karen?’

  Mam was standing by the kitchen table looking worried as she came down with her boxes. Karen tried to reassure her.

  ‘Oh, Mam, I’m all right.’ She smiled brightly as she put the boxes down by the front door. ‘I just want to go up and see Gran for a while before I start work.’

  ‘But can you afford it? I mean, taking a holiday and you not working all these weeks. I’m sure I don’t know how you manage.’

  ‘I’m all right, I’ve told you, Mam. I’ve a bit saved and I’ll earn my keep on the farm. And Gran will be pleased to have me. I sent her a post card yesterday so she knows I’m coming.’

  ‘Why, yes, I know she’ll be pleased to have you.’

  Mrs Knight forebore to ask more searching questions. After all, Karen was a widow and in charge of her own life.

  ‘Oh, I forgot, this came for you when you were upstairs. A letter from Essex by the postmark.’ She smiled at Karen. ‘A letter from a friend might cheer you up a bit. We had a card from Joe too. Just to say he’s all right, but it’s lovely to hear from him, isn’t it?’

  Looking at Joe’s card, Mam hadn’t noticed Karen sit down quickly at the table, her colour going from white to rosy red in a second. Trembling, she looked at the envelope then felt a sick reaction when she recognized Annie’s handwriting. Closing her eyes momentarily, she berated herself. There was no reason at all to think it might have been from Patrick.

  ‘Karen, hinny, whatever is it? Oh, it’s because of Joe. You two were always close. Did you think he was hurt? He’s fine, see for yourself,’ cried Mam as she glanced up from Joe’s card.

  Blindly, Karen took it, fighting hard for control. ‘Yes, Mam, it’s grand to hear from him, isn’t it?’

  She turned over the card with its red ‘Passed by the censor’ stamp, to the picture of the ferocious Turk on the front, and giggled helplessly in spite of her emotional state. How like Joe! Turning back to the message she read: ‘Got yours on Friday. Glad everybody well. How would you like to meet this fellow in the street? I’m in the pink, love, Joe.’ Dear Joe.

  ‘Well, you’d better hurry, pet, if you want to catch that train. Now you’ve got everything, haven’t you? Drop us a line and let us know how Gran is. I’m sure the farm’s getting too much for her but she does want to keep the tenancy. Don’t forget.’

  ‘I won’t. And mind you look after yourself.’ Karen hugged her mother. ‘Don’t be lifting anything too heavy or anything like that now.’ She pushed the letter from Annie into her bag. She would read it on the train, it would pass the time nicely. Fixing her hat firmly on to her head and pinning it to her unruly curls, she picked up her boxes and went out.

  Passing Kezia’s door which was standing open she called her goodbyes and her sister came hurrying out, her hands floury from bread-making so that she had to hold them away from her clothes. Leaning forward, she kissed Karen on the cheek and whispered softly to her.

  ‘Now don’t worry, I’ll find a way somehow. I know I’ll have to tell Da and Mam sometime, but I want to pick my time. After all, there’s a few months left. And Gran will be all right about it, you’ll see.’

  ‘Thanks for putting up with me, Kezia. I’ll send you a card. I’d better go now.’ With a last look at the row of cottages which was her childhood home, Karen thought desperately that she would never have the courage to come back. And even if she did, how could she shame her parents?

  It was not until Karen was on the train to Stanhope that she remembered Annie’s letter. She had taken control of herself again and was determined to try to forget the past and look only to what was to come. She loved the journey which she knew well from the times she had stayed with Gran for her holidays as a child. In spite of her heartache she found herself looking out for landmarks and noting them with satisfaction. Now she sat back in her seat and took out the letter. There was plenty of time to read it before she reached Stanhope. But the first two lines made her sit up with a muffled exclamation.

  Dear Karen

  The reason I am writing to you now is that I have had a visitor. It was that Catholic priest, you know, Father Murphy, the one who visits up at the Hall, and he was in a proper taking with himself. Evidently he had not realized you were going home and he wanted your address, but I didn’t like to give him it without you knowing. It should be all right with him being a priest but I wonder? Him being in a state, not at all like a priest, if you know what I mean. Karen, I knew something was wrong and made you fly home. Was it him? There were those times he called to see you at the house and we never knew why, or at least I didn’t. He has been back twice but I told him I couldn’t give him your address. Please tell me what you want me to do?

  I hope you are feeling better now you are back with your family. Things go on the same here, as you can imagine. There’s a lot of new wounded up at the Hall, poor beggars.

  Always your loving friend,

  Annie

  Karen’s first reaction was one of panic. Then she realized Annie had not given Patrick her address. For a moment she had wanted to run and hide, anywhere, in case he found her. Then she felt a crushing disappointment as she saw there was little likelihood of that; Annie hadn’t given him her address.

  Laughing shakily, she visualized the family’s astounded reaction if a Catholic priest turned up on the doorstep in Morton Main asking for her. Not to mention the neighbours. She couldn’t think what they would say but tongues would certainly wag. She folded the letter and put it in her pocket.

  The train whistled and slowed as it steamed into Stanhope in Weardale. Hastily she gathered her crazy thoughts, straightened her hat and stepped out on to the platform as the train ground to a halt. She was going to begin a new life here in the dales, the past behind her. But first she would write to Annie and tell her on no account to give Patrick her address.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘FATHER MURPHY! YOU’RE back then. Did you have a nice time in London?’

  Patrick was brought up short as he saw Nurse Ellis standing by the desk in the hall, taking the report from Day Sister. Somehow he had been expecting Karen to be there on her own.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Nurse. I was visiting my brother, he’s been home on leave,’ he answered. ‘Er, is Sister Knight in one of the wards? I wanted to see her about something.’

  ‘Sister Knight has left the hospital,’ said Day Sister, her tone disapproving.

  ‘Left the hospital? You mean she’s ill?’

  ‘No, I do not, Father. She’s left the hospital for good, gone back to her home somewhere up North. Left us very short-handed, she has. A very unprofessional thing to do, rushing off like that.’

  Patrick turned on his heel and went back out. Too late, he thought numbly, too late. But Karen would not have left without leaving him a message, surely? What had he done to her? He had to find her, he had to. Annie would know where she was, surely she would? He would find out her address from Annie. Perhaps she was still with Annie. The hope this thought offered fired him. He set off for the village almost at a run and as he went he berated himself for taking so much time to make up his mind.

  He remembered wandering round the village and out on to the high road that night he last saw her; he had been disturbed and unable to settle to sleep and thought a walk would help.
At least it might quiet his tumultuous thoughts a little.

  He came to a lonely inn about a mile outside the village and on impulse went in and ordered a whisky. There were few men in the bar and after greeting him respectfully they left him alone; there was that about him which discouraged company.

  Patrick was every bit as hurt and confused as Karen. He thought of the shock on her face as she had come into the hall earlier on and seen him. It had been as deep as his own. She looked smaller somehow, thinner, her face pinched and white. And he was the cause of it. He had hurt her badly when all he wanted to do was gather her up and cherish her, protect her from the world. But that was forbidden him. He had no right to feel for a woman the way other men had, no right at all. It was a sin, a carnal sin. The words went round and round in his head but they were only words, they meant nothing to him, not compared with his feelings.

  Patrick sipped the last of his whisky and ordered another.

  Why should I not love a woman? he asked himself. I do love her, I’m not ashamed of loving her. What sort of a God could let a man feel like this if it was forbidden him? Is there a God? Are we all deluding ourselves, the whole elaborate edifice of the Church, is it a sham? If there is a God and he doesn’t care about the war and the suffering and death wars bring, why should he care about me and my troubles? Better to think there is no God.

  Taking out the letter which had come for him in the morning’s post, the letter from Sean which was in answer to his, he read it through yet again. Sean, his friend from seminary days. But he had not written what Patrick wanted to hear. Sean was firm in his demands that Patrick should forget his doubts and turn back in true penitence to the Faith.

  … you must put this woman behind you, Patrick, you must give her up, repent. Go to see the bishop, you need spiritual counselling. Loss of faith can be a temporary thing. You must carry on. You must pray to God and in time your prayers will be answered …