by Annie Groves
‘I suppose it’s a grovelling apology. Well, if he thinks he can get around me by sending his messenger he’s got another think coming because I’m not won over that easily.’ She was so annoyed that Reece had sent one of his buddies to give her the letter. ‘Some English girls have more pride than to fall at the feet of the next American airman who winks his eye and snaps his fingers, and another thing,’ she began as she roughly tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.
‘I’m afraid he’s dead, ma’am,’ the airman said simply.
Dulcie heard a gasp and she realised that Olive was standing behind her.
‘This was in his locker; it was sealed and addressed to you so we thought it only right that it should be delivered. I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, ma’am. He was shot down off the coast of Northern Ireland.’
Dulcie’s hands shook so badly she almost dropped the letter, and after hurrying up the stairs she slammed the bedroom door and cried bitter tears until she was physically sick. She was still sobbing when Olive knocked a couple of minutes later.
‘Can I come in?’
Dulcie barely choked her consent and she couldn’t even utter the words screaming inside her head. Reece was dead. It was a nightmare. She’d met him fleetingly. She’d forgotten that she told him where she lived because she was so proud of her address. She hadn’t expected him to remember it so vividly, but, she recalled, he had no family, but he must have somebody – anybody. Surely she wasn’t the only girl he had been friendly with?
Dulcie cried as she tried to make out his neat, copperplate handwriting that told her he was sorry he had mistaken her friendliness for something else and that he really did like her a lot. He went on to say that although he had never been loved like that before he would always treasure the memory and he hoped that she would too. He really liked her and thought she was a great gal, and if he could summon up the courage to ever send this letter he would love to ask her out and start all over again …
Dulcie quickly wiped away her tears with the pad of her hand. He must have written the letter just after … She couldn’t bring herself to think about the time in the air-raid shelter. She had been so wanton, so decadently immoral and … drunk! But not drunk enough to forget.
Dulcie could not ignore the fact that she gave Reece his first and probably his last thrill of a woman’s body. And now he was dead.
‘Here, drink this,’ Olive said as she sat on the bed and handed her the glass of water. Dulcie looked into Olive’s kind, motherly eyes and without any need of proof, she knew for certain now that she was carrying Reece’s baby.
‘Oh, Olive,’ Dulcie cried, ‘is Sally home?’
‘No, Dulcie, she isn’t,’ Olive said, ‘but judging by the look of you I think I’d better call Dr Shaw.’
All morning Sally carried out her duties with a smile on her face, a spring in her step and a song in her heart. The sun was shining through the sash windows of the Nightingale ward where injured servicemen were recovering in regimented rows of iron beds whilst a few of them had actually commented on her sunny personality.
‘You look like the cat what’s got the cream, Nurse,’ said one Geordie wag before she briskly popped a thermometer in his mouth and plumped his pillows.
‘You can’t beat a lovely sunny morning,’ Sally smiled, giving nothing away. Everything could have been so different if George had accepted back his engagement ring and they had actually broken up, when they’d had their big discussion earlier in the year. She had been so sure he wouldn’t want a ready-made family, and she couldn’t have rejected baby Alice after all she had been through. It wasn’t the child’s fault, after all, that she had been born into such a treacherous family.
However, George had proved he had a heart of gold when Sally returned home to Article Row to find him playing in the back garden with baby Alice and reassuring Sally that nothing could diminish the love he felt for her.
‘There’s a dark cloud coming over that horizon though,’ said a patient on the other side of the men’s surgical ward, ‘so I’d enjoy it whilst it lasts if I were you, Nurse.’
‘Don’t be such a pessimist, soldier,’ Sally laughed, knowing nothing could dampen her spirits today. When her morning shift was over, George was meeting her for lunch, as he had come to Bart’s to see her, having a couple of days off from the Queen Victoria, and she couldn’t wait to see him. They were going to the National Gallery, as Olive was taking Alice out for the afternoon. and she was so looking forward to their time together.
But an hour later as she and George left Bart’s, the soldier’s forecast became reality when the clouds burst and a powerful downpour came so quickly and so forcefully it bounced off the pavement and had them running for the nearest shelter.
‘Let’s get something to eat before we go to the gallery,’ George said, pulling up the collar of his Crombie overcoat and lowering the brim of his herringbone-patterned trilby against the deluge, whilst Sally wrestled with her umbrella against an unseasonal sudden gust of wind. George took the umbrella and opened it with ease before Sally linked her arm through his. His long, rapid strides caused her to almost run to keep up with him.
‘Hey, what’s the rush? You must be hungry.’ Sally gave a small, nervous laugh. George seemed preoccupied, his thoughts elsewhere and he certainly was not talkative.
‘Is something the matter, George?’ Sally looked up at him and, with his head bent and him being slightly ahead of her, she couldn’t read his expression beneath the rim of his hat. Being a quiet, thoughtful man by nature it wasn’t unusual for the two of them to walk in a companionable silence, each lost in their own idyllic thoughts of the future, content in the security of their love for each other.
But that was before she told George about Alice. He still wanted to stand by his promise to spend the rest of his life with her, he had assured her, but since then his whole manner had become so different from the way he had been before that Sally worried George was having second thoughts. With her arm outstretched in an effort to keep hold of his coat sleeve she wasn’t sure he wanted to be with her at all today.
‘Let’s go in here,’ George said, steering her into a nearby British Restaurant, almost causing her to trip. Then, steadying her without a word, his eyes seemed to say it all. Their usually warm glow was replaced with a sad reproach. She had never seen him like this, and momentarily it unnerved her as she could feel her heart sinking.
‘George?’ Sally wanted the truth, and she wanted it now. ‘Have I said something wrong?’
‘No, darling,’ George said quickly – too quickly, ‘of course you haven’t.’ He took her hand and wrapped his capable, talented fingers around hers as he edged her into the window seat they were lucky enough to bag even though the place was busy with lunchtime workers and shoppers.
After placing her umbrella in the stand near the door George went to find a waitress and Sally watched him. He looked tired, suddenly. She hadn’t noticed that before, and she wondered if he was getting enough sleep. There hadn’t been an air raid for a few weeks now, so his shift patterns were more stable than they had been during the worst of the Blitz. But Sally still worried that he did too much, knowing he thought nothing of jumping into another shift if the hospital was busy, or if another doctor needed help he would be the first to offer.
Feeling slightly uneasy sitting in full view of people passing the window, with its criss-cross tape adorning the large plate glass, Sally turned her engagement ring around her finger, mesmerised by the glint from the weak rays of sunshine now popping through the clouds as the rain eased, and was glad when George returned to the table.
‘They said the menu is on the wall,’ he informed Sally. ‘Anything you fancy?’
‘Just soup for me,’ she answered after quickly studying what was on offer today and not really wanting anything to eat for some reason. She had been so happy and full of hope this morning. For the first time in weeks she felt she could tell George anything. But now she wasn�
�t so sure.
‘I know it must have come as a shock when I told you about Alice,’ Sally ventured as they waited for their order, all the time watching him closely, worrying what impact her words were having. ‘I was concerned that, being such a kind and gentle man, you would feel duty bound to take the two of us on after saying you would and then regret it but be too kind to say so?’
‘It isn’t like that, Sally.’ George gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘That’s not the case at all. I think Alice is a lovely child and I would be proud to bring her up as my own. I am so glad you told me about her, because I want to get to know and love her as much as you do.’
‘Then what’s wrong George?’ Sally asked, knowing George had been acting strangely for a while now and she still didn’t have a clue why. He seemed even more reserved and distracted than usual. And given that he wouldn’t look her in the eye, as he usually did, she wondered if he really had gone off her and was trying to gently let her down. ‘Is it me, George?’ She had to know.
‘No, never!’ She saw the look of alarm flash across his face. ‘Never, never would I stop loving you, Sally, I couldn’t.’
‘Be that as it may,’ Sally answered, acknowledging he sounded sincere enough, and in his heart he probably meant every word. But what about his family? What would they think of their talented son taking up with a girl who had a child to bring up? George might have every intention in the world of bringing up Alice, but his mother could well have other ideas, and it was this thought that worried her now.
Sally didn’t have time to answer as the waitress brought them each a bowl of vegetable soup and some bread. There was an uneasy silence between them now broken only by the low buzz of conversation from fellow diners and the distant singing voices of Flanagan and Allen urging the rabbit to run, run, run.
And Sally knew exactly how it felt, as they completed the rest of their meal in a strained silence. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it would be a criminal waste of good food she would have left it, as her appetite had all but disappeared, and she was having a difficult job of swallowing the soup even though it really was delicious. Slowly they managed to clear their bowls, each lost in their thoughts.
‘Have you had enough to eat?’ George asked and Sally nodded with an air of inevitability; the meal had been a disaster, and after George threw half a crown onto the little plate for the two threepenny soups, he helped her into her coat. They walked out of the restaurant without waiting for the two shillings change and Sally knew the smiling waitress was going to have a happy day today with such a good tip to spend.
‘Sally, I …’ He was finding it hard to say what needed to be said, so she helped him.
‘George, do you mind if we don’t go to the gallery? I am so tired, I didn’t sleep well last night, Alice was fractious and …’
‘No my dear, certainly not.’ His words came out in a relieved rush. ‘I have a mountain of paperwork, and reports coming up to my knees.’ He gave a small stab at humour but neither of them was in the mood for frivolity. ‘I will walk you back to Article Row and …’
‘I don’t mind walking alone if you have to take the train back to the hospital,’ Sally lied. She did mind. She minded terribly, but there was nothing she could do about it as the sinking sensation of disappointment threatened to overwhelm her. However, quietly, she refused to let George see her disappointment.
‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home on your own. Anyway, I’m staying in Drew’s room just for a couple of nights, now that he’s gone back to America,’ George said kindly, taking her hand as if there was nothing wrong. ‘Makes me feel quite nostalgic for when everyone used to lodge there. You must have a rest, you look tired.’
‘Alice will soon put paid to that idea,’ Sally laughed with forced brightness, ‘but Olive will welcome the break from looking after her, I should imagine.’
‘I’m sure she won’t,’ George said, unconsciously tucking her hand into his pocket, something he had done since they spent their weekend away together. ‘From what I’ve seen, Alice is smothered with love from every direction; she’s a very lucky little girl to have such an adoring female family.’
Sally looked up at him and for the first time that day he smiled, really smiled, as if the thought actually brought him pleasure and for a fleeting moment Sally wanted to beg him to spend the rest of the day with her, but she didn’t. Her pride wouldn’t let her.
Back at number 13, Article Row, George politely refused Olive’s offer of a cup of tea, explaining he had a lot of work to finish before the next morning. And after walking with him down the long hallway, Sally was more than a little surprised when she received a chaste kiss on her cheek. Placing his trilby hat on his head at a jaunty angle, George turned without another word and walked out of the front door.
Olive recounted to Sally that she’d had to call the doctor for Dulcie who had received a terrible shock: a friend of Wilder’s, whom she had known too, had been shot down and killed the night before.
‘I’ll check on her later,’ Sally said a little distractedly, looking out of the window.
‘Is something the matter, Sally?’ Olive asked, her voice full of concern when she came into the kitchen after checking on Dulcie and putting baby Alice down for her afternoon nap. ‘You look a bit pale, I hope you’re not coming down with this bug as well.’ She didn’t like to see the young woman so down.
‘I think George has gone off me now he knows about Alice,’ Sally said abruptly.
‘No!’ Olive’s eyes widened: she’d worried this might happen after their weekend away together. And even though they were a very mature, responsible couple, George had savoured the fruit of Sally’s love, and now it looked like he was losing his appetite. Olive sighed; she didn’t have George down as a love-’em-and-leave-’em type of chap but who knew what was going on in a man’s mind these days?
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Sally countered. ‘I’m being silly, I’m sure everything will be fine,’ she added over-brightly, not sure at all.
‘Of course it will,’ Olive said. ‘George is very busy; his mind must be full of worries.’ ‘Worries’ being the war and the added casualties, she thought, pulling her chair from under the table, knowing everybody was under a huge amount of added pressure. However she couldn’t bear to see ‘her girls’ upset, and even if she was overstepping the mark she wouldn’t let any of them suffer alone and in silence; one never knew what the next few hours could bring.
‘I did think he looked a little preoccupied, if you don’t mind me saying …’
‘Oh, you’re right, Olive, he’s been ever so busy at the hospital,’ Sally said quickly, ‘and in his spare time he has to deal with writing up all those reports and …’ It was no use, her throat constricted and her chin trembled and she couldn’t continue. Without any more warning Sally suddenly burst into floods of tears. In a flash Olive was at her side, cooing and shushing her like her mother used to do, cocooning her convulsive shoulders.
‘Never mind, my dear,’ Olive cooed, ‘you just let it all out.’ After a few moments Sally’s tears receded and Olive offered her hot tea after putting in an extra half spoon of sugar and put down the cup, which thanks to the shortages was resting on a mismatched saucer. ‘Drink this whilst it’s hot, it’ll do you the world of good.’
‘Tea solves all ills.’ Sally didn’t intend her voice to sound so abrupt. ‘I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful …’
‘Don’t you give it another thought, my dear,’ Olive said, stalling Sally’s apologies. ‘You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need me.’ She resumed her seat on the other side of the table and her warm, caring eyes viewed Sally’s sadness with maternal compassion. ‘You know where I am if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen.’
‘Thank you, Olive, I’ll remember that.’ Sally gave the other woman a watery smile before blowing her nose and shrugging a little. She couldn’t possibly tell Olive that there was also the
question of what would happen to Alice if she and George didn’t marry now; someone had to look after the child – and she had to work. How else would they be able to afford to live in Article Row if she wasn’t earning? Olive was a wonderful woman, everybody knew that, but she couldn’t conjure up food and heating out of thin air.
‘Why don’t you go over to him?’ Olive asked Sally after draining her cup. ‘You will feel much better if you know one way or the other.’
‘Know what?’ Sally asked weakly, not feeling strong enough for this.
‘Know how much work he has to do, maybe you could help.’ Sally looked at Olive and wondered if she should? She knew she wouldn’t rest until she and George had cleared the air and she found out what his problem was, because it was obvious there was one, no matter how much he tried to persuade her everything was fine. Also, Sally knew she couldn’t risk another night without sleep.
‘Go on,’ Olive said, ‘take as much time as you like, Alice is fine here with us.’
Sally jumped up before her courage could fail her again and she gave Olive a huge hug. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’
‘Get away with you.’ Olive smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘And don’t come back here until you’ve got everything sorted out once and for all.’ She knew her girls seemed wrapped up in their own personal conflicts now. She had to be strong for all of them.
In Hyde Park on their last day together, Tilly thought, Drew had let her waffle on, talking about the war and how it must feel to lose somebody they loved, and all the time he was aware that he, too, could lose the woman who had brought him into the world and gave him life. Drew, kind, loving Drew, who had let her talk of how things could be, when all along his heart was breaking.