by Anne Douglas
Elinor was silent, thinking of the closed faces of the shell-shocked, their blank eyes fixed on sights others couldn’t see and wouldn’t want to have seen; horrors no young fellows should have had to see and forever remember.
It was said that these patients would eventually be moved on to specialist hospitals, but at present there was a shortage of such places, and the doctors at the Primrose had to do what they could. There were some senior army men, it seemed, who didn’t believe there even was such a thing as shell shock, and that those who claimed to be suffering from it were just trying it on, but Elinor couldn’t imagine how anyone looking into the patients’ eyes could believe that. Such desolation could not be faked.
Often, seeing the results of war on men, she thought of her brother and his passionate desire to enlist and do his bit. And end up like the patients she helped to nurse? She couldn’t bear to think about it. Or that Barry might meet the same fate. Not that she often thought of Barry. More often than not, it was Stephen she found herself thinking about, not even knowing if he had joined up. She thought he probably had – it would be like him to want to help his country – but she had no way of finding out where he was and had no right to know, anyway, after what she’d done.
Still, his fine face came often into her mind and, one strange day in April, she thought she saw him. He was in the entrance hall of the Primrose, his tall, straight figure in khaki uniform standing before a nurse at the small table that had replaced Miss Denny’s handsome reception desk. Passing through, on her way to attend to a patient, at the sight of Stephen, Elinor stopped in her tracks, her heart jumping.
‘Stephen!’ she almost called, but then remembered she had no right to expect him to speak to her. Perhaps he had sensed her presence anyway, for he turned his fair head and looked at her. And – oh, God – it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Stephen.
So much like him, with the same height and slim build, the same set to the shoulders and the fair hair she’d always said women would envy. But the face wasn’t his. A nice face, a pleasant face, but not his, and though she half-smiled and he smiled back, before turning to the nurse who was asking him some question, she felt such a pang of disappointment, she longed just to turn aside, go into the gardens and try to be alone for a moment.
She couldn’t, of course, do that, though these days she did have access to keys, for the patients had been given permission to sit in the gardens and it was one of her duties to give them any help needed. To sneak in on her own, off duty, was something she liked to do, hoping no one would notice, but now she must continue on her way, her heart still thumping and crazy questions beginning to form in her mind.
What had she done? Thrown away what had been hers? Which would never be hers again? What madness had come over her? Why had she done it?
Because Barry was exciting, that was why, as she suddenly began to see. He was exciting and he had excited her. Drawn her to him because of the new and strange passion he had caused her to feel, made her forget all that she’d felt for Stephen. But Barry had never intended their relationship to be permanent. He lived and loved for the moment and moved on, while Stephen’s love would have been for a lifetime. A lifetime she knew now she would never share.
Walking slowly on, trying to remember where she should be going, she heard a woman’s voice say her name and turned her head.
‘Elinor! Elinor, is it you? Now, why did you never get in touch?’
‘Brenda!’ cried Elinor, shaken from her thoughts by the sight of the familiar face. ‘Oh, how grand to see you! But why are you here?’
Forty-One
She was looking prettier than Elinor remembered. Pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling, her knot of pale blonde hair looser than before – Brenda had blossomed. And Elinor thought, why, she’s happy! That’s why she looks so different. Everyone knew that happiness was the best aid to good looks, and Brenda was good-looking now.
‘What am I doing here?’ she asked, holding Elinor at arm’s length and studying her. ‘I’m going to be working here, that’s what. I’ve just had an interview to be a nurses’ aide and they’ve taken me on. How about you?’
‘I’m already a nurses’ aide! Oh, fancy you and me doing the same thing – is that no’ strange?’
‘I think it’s wonderful. I start next week and I’ll already have a friend – what could be better? Look, could we talk? I’ve so much to tell you and you never got in touch.’
‘I know, I feel bad.’ Elinor gave an apologetic smile. ‘Thing is, I have to take a patient down for some treatment now, but I get off early today – five o’clock. Could we meet at that little café in South Queensferry Street?’
‘You bet.’ Brenda’s newly attractive face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Elinor, this is a real bonus for me, knowing you’ll be here. It’ll make such a difference, eh? I don’t mind telling you, I’m scared stiff about the new job.’
‘I was the same, but there was no need and you’ll do well. See you at the café, then.’
After they’d hugged and parted, Elinor, on her way to her patient, glanced back at the reception desk, but the fair-haired soldier was already putting on his cap and leaving. He caught her look and again gave a polite smile, but she had the feeling that he was not to be a patient and that she would not see him again. Not that it mattered, he was not the one she wanted to see, yet she marvelled over how things could work out, how a perfect stranger could show her how she felt. And of course that didn’t matter, for there was no point in feeling as she did. It had come too late.
At the West End café, Brenda was already at a table when Elinor arrived, and said she had ordered tea and buttered toast, if that was all right.
‘Wonderful, I’m always starving by this time of day.’
‘You’ll be living at home, eh? Hope you won’t be in trouble, being late back?’
‘Och, no. Ma knows I’m often kept at work.’ Elinor smiled, as the waitress brought their order and Brenda poured their tea. ‘Anyway, I didn’t want to miss seeing you and hearing all your news.’
‘Heavens, can’t you see it?’ Brenda cried, pointing to the pretty pearl ring on her left hand. ‘Tam and I are engaged!’
‘Engaged?’ Elinor, seizing Brenda’s hand to have a closer look at the ring, gave a delighted smile. So that was it? The explanation of Brenda’s blossoming? She might have guessed it, yet was still surprised, Tam and Brenda having seemed so far apart at one time. It was easy to see, though, that Brenda was truly happy, and Elinor congratulated her, saying she couldn’t be more pleased.
‘And it’s a lovely ring, Brenda. When did Tam give it to you?’
A slight shadow crossed Brenda’s face.
‘Before he went to France – just last month. You know he joined the Black Watch? Oh, yes, he must volunteer – nothing I said made any difference – just kept saying he liked a good fight and he’d do his bit against Jerry, et cetera. Then when he had a weekend’s leave, he popped the question.’ Brenda sipped her tea. ‘I told him not to worry about a ring, I didn’t need one, but he insisted, borrowed the money from his dad and there we are. Engaged. Bet you never thought you’d see the day.’
‘I’m sure you’ll both be very happy,’ Elinor said earnestly. ‘Tam’s a bit of a joker, but I’ve always known he was good-hearted under all the show. It’ll be wonderful for you, making a new life with him.’
‘Well, first we have to have the wedding – that’ll be on Tam’s next leave, just something quiet at the kirk. But, thanks to Mr Muirhead, he has a good job to come back to when the war’s over – if he comes back, that is.’
‘Don’t talk like that, Brenda! He will come back, he will!’ Elinor had flushed a little. ‘How’d you mean, thanks to Mr Muirhead?’
‘Well, he gave Tam such a good reference and a note to a paper works manager he knows, that Tam got into the office where they were saying he would do very well. Stephen promised to do something for me, too, but I’d already decided to try for nursing.’ Brenda put down her teacup. �
��Did you know he’d enlisted?’
‘Mr Muirhead? No, I didn’t know.’
‘Joined the King’s Own Scottish Borderers.’ Brenda’s eyes on Elinor were suddenly curious. ‘But what happened between you two?’ she asked softly. ‘Something did, didn’t it?’
‘It would never have worked out for us,’ Elinor answered after a pause. ‘Anyway, I met someone else. And before you say anything, that didn’t work out either.’
‘Oh, Elinor, I’m so sorry. Look, I won’t pry any more. Tell me what it’s like to work at the Primrose, then. Are the fellows all right? I mean, not difficult with the nurses?’
‘The better they feel, the sooner they start teasing and trying to flirt. But, to be honest, most of them aren’t up to taking an interest.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘I expect they warned you, to be prepared for things you mightn’t want to see. I mean, the doctors have done what they can, but some cases – well, they’re still pretty bad.’
‘It’s all right, the sister did warn me, and I know what to expect.’ Brenda raised her hand to their waitress. ‘I did some voluntary work at the Royal to prepare myself for this job, anyway, and I know it’s not going to be easy. But I have to do it, you see – for Tam’s sake.’
‘I understand.’ Elinor stood up. ‘Look, let me get this; it was my idea . . .’
‘Come on, what’s a pot of tea and a bit of toast?’ Brenda laughed a little. ‘Remember that argument we had with Stephen about paying the bill?’
‘I remember,’ said Elinor, who remembered everything.
Outside, they hugged, saying how much they were looking forward to working together, then both ran for their trams, still waving goodbye.
All had gone to war, then, Elinor mused, travelling home. All the young men she personally knew – Barry, Tam and Stephen. But not Corrie. He, at least, would not be in danger. Would it do any good to pray for the others? She’d pray, anyway, even for Barry. Thank God, though, she needn’t pray for Corrie.
So she believed. Until she reached home and found her mother sobbing and Corrie sitting with his head in his hands.
‘He’s done it!’ her mother cried. ‘Oh, I knew he would. Corrie’s joined up, Elinor, and your dad’s in a terrible mood!’
Forty-Two
Elinor, pulling off her hat and coat, sank into a chair at the table, where the remains of a meal seemed to indicate that the trouble had started in the middle of tea.
‘Aye,’ said Hessie, catching her glance, ‘we said we’d no’ wait for you and I’d just dished up – a lovely bit of finnan haddie, I was lucky to get it—’
‘Ma,’ Elinor sighed, ‘never mind the finnan haddie.’
‘I’m just saying. Well, then Corrie came and sat down and he looks at me and your dad and he says, “I’ve done it,” and your dad says, “Done what?” And Corrie says . . .’
‘I said I’d volunteered,’ Corrie burst out, raising his head and staring desolately at Elinor. ‘I said I couldn’t stick being out of uniform any longer, and I’d signed up for the Royal Scots. That’s all I said, and he blew up.’
‘Blew up,’ Elinor repeated. ‘Like he used to do?’
‘The same,’ Hessie murmured, putting her hankie to her eyes. ‘When he’s been so much better lately, and all. But he’s only thinking of Corrie, you see. He doesn’t want him to join up, and be at risk. He says why get killed if you don’t have to?’
‘As though anybody can talk like that when the country’s at war!’ Corrie shouted. ‘Conscription’s coming anyway, so what’s the point in hanging about, letting everybody think you’re a coward? Plenty have gone from the factory and I want to be gone, too. I want to do my bit, same as other people, only Dad thinks I should do what he tells me and won’t listen to anything I say.’
‘Well, he heard you today,’ Hessie wailed. ‘He heard you and we all suffered. We none of us could eat anything, with him shouting and turning red, and then he leaps up and gets his jacket and out he goes, thundering down the stair like a herd of wild animals.’
‘Where’d he go?’ asked Elinor. ‘Don’t tell me – the pub?’
‘Where else?’ asked Corrie. ‘At least he’s out of our hair, eh? And with any luck he’ll be in a better mood when he comes back.’
‘Maybe. There’s no saying how he’ll be, with you still going to war.’ Hessie’s eyes were darkly brooding. ‘The thing is, Corrie, you’ve never given a thought to me, have you? How it’ll be for me, waiting for the telegram? Because that’s all mothers do these days, when their sons are fighting. Every day, you see the casualty lists in the paper and you think, will it be today? Will it be tomorrow? One day, your name’ll be there, I know it, Corrie, I know it!’
As she dissolved into tears again, Corrie leaped to put his arms round her and Elinor stood by, tears stabbing her own eyes, until Hessie quietly released herself and said she’d clear the table.
‘It has to be this way, Ma,’ Corrie said in a low voice. ‘Canna just be left to other folk to win the war for us. Think I’d put you through all this if I didn’t believe I had to?’
‘No, no. I can see you have to go.’ Hessie dried her eyes and began to gather up the plates from the table. ‘But it’s hard. Elinor, you’ve had nothing to eat – shall I fry you a bit of fish?’
‘No, I’m all right, thanks. I had some tea and toast earlier on with Brenda – you know, she’s coming to work at the Primrose, too.’
‘Tea and toast’ll never keep you going. I’ll put the kettle on and make you a sandwich. Corrie, you could do with something, too, seeing as we none of us got our proper meal.’
‘When do you have to leave?’ Elinor asked Corrie in a whisper, as Hessie filled the kettle. He lowered his eyes.
‘Next week. I do feel bad about it, but what can I do? I have to go.’
‘I know you do, and Dad probably does, too. He’ll come round in the end, you know, he always does.’
‘Maybe no’ this time.’
Still, with fresh tea and cheese and pickle sandwiches, they all began to feel a little better, though the thought of Walter’s return hung over them liked an ominous cloud. Just wish he’d come in and get it over with, Elinor was thinking, when the sound of a fierce rapping on the downstairs shop door made them all jump.
‘Someone’s knocking!’ Hessie cried. ‘Corrie, go and see who it is!’
‘Mrs Rae, Mrs Rae, are you there?’ they could hear a man’s voice calling, as Corrie began to run down the stairs. ‘Hessie, hen, are you there?’
‘Oh, God, oh, God, that’s Josh Pringle’s voice!’ Hessie, her face paper-white, was following Corrie, with Elinor close behind. ‘One of your dad’s pals, you ken – something must’ve happened. Oh, God, what can it be?’
Corrie, already at the front door, was standing back as a small wiry man came stumbling in, his face as white as Hessie’s, his scared eyes fixed on her.
‘What’s wrong, Mr Pringle?’ Corrie asked, taking hold of his mother’s arm. ‘What’s happened? Is it Dad?’
‘Aye, it’s Walt, he’s been took ill. We were in the Castle . . . had to get Sammy, the barman, to call the ambulance . . . they think it’s a seizure . . .’
‘A seizure?’ Hessie was collapsing against Corrie’s shoulder, while Elinor held her hand. ‘Oh, no! No!’
‘Where’ve they taken him?’ Elinor asked Josh, who was now wiping his brow with the back of his hand; she could smell the alcohol on his breath, though he was sober enough. ‘Quick, where do we go? The infirmary?’
‘That’s right, the Royal. He’ll be there by now; they went off in a great hurry.’
‘We’ll follow, we’ll go now,’ Corrie said decisively. ‘Thanks very much for coming to tell us, Mr Pringle. We appreciate it.’
‘Come on, Ma,’ Elinor murmured, helping her mother back up the stairs. ‘Let’s just lock up the flat and go.’
‘I feel so bad,’ Hessie was whispering. ‘This is what I’ve always dreaded. His face so red, you ken, he sometimes looked as if h
e could collapse – oh, but where’s Josh? I must thank Josh . . .’
‘Never mind, Hessie,’ Josh called as he left them. ‘You just tell Walt I’ll be in to see him, eh? Tell him, the lads are thinking of him.’
‘Let’s lock the door and go,’ cried Corrie.
Outside in the street, they stood for a moment, considering how best to get to the Royal as quickly as possible.
‘A taxi?’ Elinor was sorting coins in her purse. ‘I’ve a shilling – that’d be enough, eh?’
‘Aye, a taxi,’ Hessie gasped. ‘A taxi would be best – but where can we find a taxi?’
‘No taxis round here,’ said Corrie. ‘Where’d you find a taxi rank in Friar’s Wynd?’
‘Tram, then!’ cried Hessie, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Hurry, now, hurry! Oh, d’you think your dad’ll be all right?’
‘Sure he will,’ Elinor told her reassuringly while they ran to the tram stop. ‘He’ll be at the Royal by now and they’ll be taking care of him.’
‘He’ll be in good hands,’ Corrie put in. ‘Try no’ to worry, Ma.’
But of course they were worrying. Elinor, sitting next to her mother in the tram, with Corrie close by, knew their anxiety was natural, yet when their father had led them such a dance, it might have been thought they wouldn’t have been so concerned.
There was no doubt, though, that of late he had mellowed.
Look at the way he had come to seek Elinor out at the Primrose and had even apologized, which had seemed so remarkable because it was so rare! But he’d done it and shown such a different side of himself; she’d longed for him to be like that always. Too much to hope for, perhaps, but he’d certainly become easier. Until tonight, when Corrie had defied him, and he’d reverted to his old ways. He had ‘blown up’, and now was ill, and here they were worrying. Just like any family would, and that seemed right.