by Annie Groves
Edith snuggled against him. ‘Oh no, don’t think I’m ungrateful. This is lovely. But it’s not real, is it? It’s nice for a change, but that’s all.’
‘So you won’t mind spending Christmas night at Jeeves Street?’
Edith hugged him back. ‘Seriously, Harry Banham, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. Just as long as you’re there too.’
Harry rested his chin on the top of her hair and breathed in that unique mix of shampoo and a sort of spiciness that was always Edie. ‘In that case, Mrs Banham, I assure you I will be.’
‘Mrs Banham!’ Edith giggled in delight.
Later, with the light off at last, Harry settled down to sleep, reassured once more. He had to put that sense of dread behind him. He absolutely must not let those sad old fears take hold.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Gladys knew she didn’t have to go into the nurses’ home on Christmas Day, but she wanted to. Even with all the shortages, it felt so festive in the common room. There was the big bowl of precious tangerines that Edith had so generously shared, the lovely tangy scent from the fruit filling the room. It was such a rarity these days and all the more special for it. Fiona had insisted on buying a proper Christmas tree, which stood to one side of the piano, and everyone had helped make decorations to dress the branches. The piano itself had sprigs of holly arranged across its top, and more holly was tucked around the edges of the picture frames.
Bridget and Ellen had managed to obtain a big bag of pine cones. Some had been set aside as fire starters, but they had carefully painted the rest to make table decorations for the canteen part of the room, adding scraps of ribbon and tinsel to them. Now they sparkled in the dim daylight and Gladys felt her heart beat faster in the joy of the moment. She took a deep breath in.
Outside all was frosty but in here the fire burned brightly in the grate. Gladys hummed happily to herself as she made her way to the kitchen, thinking of the carol concert the night before. It had become a tradition at the Victory Walk home, and she loved it. Mary played the piano, and Gladys could sing her heart out, enjoying the familiar tunes and finally confident that she could read all the words to any verses that she couldn’t remember. At first she had been embarrassed when one of the nurses praised her voice, but now she basked in the compliments, realising that her voice actually brought pleasure to others.
It wasn’t big-headed to think so. She had done nothing to deserve her fine voice, but she loved the fact that her singing helped the rest of them to join in and have a go. As Mary had pointed out, she herself couldn’t sing properly if she was playing at the same time, and somebody had to start the vocal parts. So Gladys was a vital element of the concert. She felt warm inside at the thought. After so many years of not being appreciated, it was wonderful to know she could do something well.
She gasped in surprise when she saw who was in charge of the kitchen that morning: none other than Fiona, the superintendent. ‘Come in, come in, no need to go into shock,’ she said cheerfully, her hands moving at top speed as she peeled a pile of carrots. ‘Cook has her own family to attend to on a day like this.’
‘But don’t you want to have a day off for once?’ Gladys hastily reached for her apron, somewhat nervous at sharing the countertop with Fiona.
‘Day off? Why would I want one of those?’ Fiona shook her head. ‘The devil makes work for idle hands, as they say. Besides, while I know you all love Christmas; where I come from we prefer Hogmanay. So I told Cook I would step in. I’ve nearly finished the carrots, so will you tackle the swede?’
‘But what about the oven?’ Gladys knew that Cook always had everything timed to the last second, and she was worried that nothing would heat up in time.
‘All on already,’ beamed Fiona, sweeping the carrot tops and peel into the largest bowl. ‘Turkey’s in, kettle’s boiled, pudding is steaming. You’ll want these for your compost heap in the victory garden, won’t you? Excellent. Now I shall move on to the potatoes. When you’ve done that, maybe you’ll oversee those marrowfat peas, which I put to soak last night after the concert, so they should be good and ready.’
Gladys mentally took a step back from the blast of Fiona’s energy. Then she found a sharp knife and set about preparing the pile of swede for roasting.
‘So will you not be staying with us to eat, my dear?’ Fiona’s face, flushed red with the steamy heat of the kitchen, was full of concern. She pushed a drooping strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
‘No, no, I only came in to help prepare,’ said Gladys hurriedly, wiping her hands on her apron before untying its belt. ‘I got to get back to my house. Ma can never manage the young ones on her own and I’m not sure my sister will be much help.’
‘Ah, yes, I see, I take your point.’ Fiona whirled round and found a spare ceramic bowl, one of the few items in the kitchen as yet unused. ‘Then you had best take your dinner with you. No, no, I won’t hear of any objections. There’s far too much here, even allowing for generous portions, and of course some of the nurses won’t be eating here today. Edith and Alice will be with the Banhams; Mary has gone to join her fine captain. So there’s plenty, and it won’t keep, as you well know. Besides,’ her eyes twinkled, ‘you grew most of it.’
By the evening, Gladys was exhausted but content. She’d ended up bringing back the bowl filled with roasted vegetables, topped with a plate full of turkey, and a separate bowl full of peas. She’d somehow managed to balance it all on the short walk from the home to her house. The food had made all the difference to her own family’s celebration, which would have been miserably meagre without it. Her mother had half-heartedly cooked a scrawny chicken and boiled some potatoes, but there was scarcely enough to go round all the hungry faces. Thanks to the Victory Walk additions, all six of her siblings were now full and satisfied.
Apart from Evelyn, that was. She stood with her back to the cooker in the small kitchen, her arms folded. ‘Couldn’t you even get no bread sauce?’ she asked.
Gladys paused, her hands in the soap suds in the sink, halfway through the big pile of washing up. ‘Are you having me on?’ she demanded. ‘We had Bisto, didn’t we? I saved that specially for today. I didn’t see you bringing anything extra to the dinner table, so don’t blame me.’
Evelyn huffed. ‘What, am I meant to be grateful for the leftovers from your precious nurses?’
Gladys turned around to face her petulant sister. ‘Yes. As a matter of fact, you are.’ She went back to the dishes. ‘And since you’re here you can pick up a tea towel and help clear this lot.’ She knew that Evelyn was sulking because she had no pub to escape to this evening. It was the one night of the year the Boatman’s was shut, leaving Evelyn pacing about like a caged tiger.
With little alternative, the younger woman picked up a tea towel and began to wipe the plates stacked on the rack, making room for the others that Gladys had washed. With very bad grace she piled the clean, dry ones on the countertop. ‘Well, I’m not. Sticks in my craw, taking charity from your holier-than-thou nurses.’
‘Still ate it though, didn’t you,’ Gladys said, not bothering to hide the impatience in her voice.
‘It would have looked rude not to. I don’t want to set a bad example to the little ones,’ Evelyn replied loftily. She clattered down another couple of plates.
‘Steady on, we ain’t got any of those to spare,’ Gladys groaned. Evelyn’s help always came at a price. She reached for the kettle to top up the water in the sink, and then set it to boil again so that there would be enough to soak the greasy roasting pans. ‘Anyway, what are your plans for the new year? You must have thought about what you’re going to do.’
Evelyn spun around. ‘What do you mean?’
Gladys looked at her, unsure where the aggressive tone had come from. ‘Well, you’re going to turn twenty in a few months. That means you’ll have to enlist for something. Do you know what yet? You already told me you don’t want to join the nursing reserve, but you know I’d help you if you changed
your mind.’
Evelyn’s expression was one of pure disgust. ‘You got to be joking,’ she breathed. ‘Touching all them strangers, hearing them moan on about where it hurts – not on your nelly.’
‘Didn’t stop you coming to us for help when you sprained your ankle,’ Gladys observed.
‘Oh stop going on at me. Nothing I do is right for you, I know that,’ Evelyn snapped.
‘It’s not up to me, I’m just saying what’s in store. You’ll have to do something,’ Gladys pointed out. She scrubbed the saucepan which had been used to boil the potatoes. Her mother had managed to burn the bottom of it. ‘You better pick whichever thing you think you’re good at.’
Evelyn shrugged and looked away from her sister’s penetrating gaze. ‘I know what I’m good at. Singing, being on stage. But you don’t take me serious,’ she complained.
‘The government won’t take you serious, more like. Unless you plan on joining ENSA.’ Gladys gave up on the saucepan and put it to one side to soak. ‘You probably left it a bit late for that.’
Evelyn gave her a poisonous look. ‘I might not have. The American feller is coming back and Max is going to make sure I sing for him this time. I could get a spot in the chorus, I bet I could.’
Gladys raised her eyebrows. This was pie in the sky, she was sure of it. Even though people joked that ENSA stood for Every Night Something Awful, she didn’t think they’d be in a hurry to sign up an amateur singer who’d performed only in one seedy pub.
‘What, you don’t believe me? Well, he will. He promised me. Max has influence,’ Evelyn said grandly. ‘You’re just jealous. You’ll be stuck here doing the same old thing, minding the kids, cleaning for those bleeding nurses and bandaging up some poor fool what got caught in an accident or whatnot. I’ll be off travelling the world, helping entertain the troops and doing my bit, just you see. I’ve had enough, I’m going up to read my magazine.’ She flung down the now-sopping tea towel and flounced off, slamming the kitchen door and making the plates still on the rack shake.
Gladys sighed, and hung the dripping towel over the rail beside the oven to let it dry properly. She set the roasting pans to soak and carefully sorted the cutlery back into its drawer. She had no reason to be jealous of her sister – despite the non-stop nature of her work, she loved it and could not imagine swapping it for a life of travelling and uncertainty. Yet she was unsettled, as Max was very obviously still in the picture, and filling her sister’s head with impossible dreams. It could lead only to disappointment – or worse.
Joe breathed on his hands to warm them and stamped his feet on the steps of the National Gallery. He wasn’t sure if the lunchtime concert was his sort of thing, but he was willing to give it a go. Who knew when he would next have the chance to hear music, of any kind, apart from crackly broadcasts over the wireless. Then he spotted Alice and waved.
She waved back, balancing a shopping bag with her other hand. She must have been successful in finding something to buy in the West End, even with the rigours of rationing. He was pleased for her. Secretly he thought she was looking more tired and thinner than when he’d last had leave, not that he would voice such a thought aloud. She deserved a treat, and if her idea of fun was to go to a classical music concert, then who was he to deny her? She’d told him that only Mary from the group of nurses really enjoyed them, and she was with her parents until New Year. Joe had offered to accompany her without hesitation.
She smiled as she came towards him. ‘I’m so grateful you’re giving up your last day of leave to come to this,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be stuffy. All sorts of people come to these things.’
Joe laughed. ‘Well, I’m accustomed to all sorts of people these days. You don’t have much chance to get away from each other on a ship. Anyway, I’m not giving up anything. I’m pleased you suggested it.’ This was true enough, even though he would never have gone to a classical concert before the war. It was never a hardship to spend a day with Alice. Far from it.
‘Good,’ she said, grinning. ‘Even though we spent Christmas with your family, it felt as if we didn’t get five minutes to have a chat between just the two of us.’ He could see she was trying to seem cheerful, hiding her regret.
He nodded in agreement. His mother had of course put on the most delicious Christmas dinner, rivalling the wedding feast, with a houseful of eager guests. He wouldn’t have changed that for the world, but it had been impossible to have a private conversation. Not that he had anything to hide from his family – but there were some matters that he preferred to talk about with Alice alone. He knew she would understand and he would not have to explain the background. ‘There’s a lot to catch up on,’ he replied. ‘Look, we have a little while before it starts, don’t we? So tell me your news.’
She picked up on his urgency. ‘Do you mean it’s easier to speak out here, where nobody will overhear? Sounds as if you have something to tell me. Spill the beans, then.’
He nodded again, knowing she had read his tone. ‘Well, sort of. It was little more than a rumour really, but word was going around my base just before I left.’
She raised her eyebrows in anticipation. ‘Go on.’
‘You know last time I was home we mentioned the German codes?’ His gaze swept the area behind her to check there was nobody close, but the crowds were milling beyond the base of the steps in Trafalgar Square and no one could overhear. ‘I’ll be quick as I can so nobody comes close enough to pick up what I’m saying. Well, it looks as if there might have been a breakthrough. By the backroom boys, that is, nothing to do with me. They say they’ve cracked the big one.’
Alice’s eyes widened, in excitement and admiration. ‘Really? Goodness – that would be wonderful.’
‘Early days yet, of course,’ he cautioned, ‘but yes, that would have a huge effect on the safety of all the shipping. Imagine all the convoys crossing the Atlantic getting through without the U-boat risk. It’s a big leap forward if it works.’
Alice’s face lit up. ‘Do you mean all the vital supplies like nylon stockings will make it through? There will be a lot of happy nurses thanking you if you can manage that.’
‘I’ll make it a priority,’ he assured her seriously. ‘We’ll leave all those GIs and crates of tinned food back in the States and fill our holds with nylons.’
‘It will help morale,’ she said, equally serious, and then she threw back her head and laughed. ‘You men have no idea the effort we go through to overcome the lack of stockings. Dyeing our legs with tea, drawing seams up the back of our legs. And then of course it’s freezing cold.’
Joe laughed back at her. ‘Some of you, maybe. Don’t tell me you do that, Alice.’
She blushed a little, wondering if that meant Joe had been looking at her legs all the while. ‘Well, no, actually I don’t. But plenty of us do. Edith, for example – she’s a dab hand. Come to think of it, so are most of the nurses you know. And I’m sure I could, if the need arose.’
‘Oh, absolutely. If the need arose.’ He paused, watching as the chilly breeze lifted the stray strands of her dark blonde hair. For once she was wearing it down, not pinned back in its neat bun for work. It suited her. ‘Your turn. What’s on your mind these days?’
Her face, its blush fading but still rosy from the breeze, took on a genuinely serious look. ‘You heard about the discussion in parliament about the Nazi death camps? I mean, I know it’s been talked about for a while, but this was a proper announcement. They really are trying to rid the Fatherland of Jews. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
He shut his eyes briefly in sympathy. ‘I know, I heard about that too. It doesn’t seem possible in this day and age. It’s barbaric. No other word for it.’
Alice nodded. ‘It’s horrible. It’s even worse for Belinda. She keeps worrying about her brother falling into their hands somehow – you know he’s a pilot, so it could happen. Makes it all feel even more real. She doesn’t talk about it much but you can tell.’
‘Of course.’ Joe looked into the distance. ‘If anything it makes me even more determined to see this through, to do everything I can to bring this war to an end and make sure we win. We have to, there’s nothing else for it. The alternative is simply impossible.’
‘I completely agree.’ She looked up into his determined face. While she would have expected nothing less of him, somehow hearing him say it bolstered her courage. He had never failed when called upon to show bravery, and he was one of many thousands of others who felt the same. ‘Well, we should look on the bright side. Surely Hitler has made an error trying to attack Russia at the same time as Western Europe. All those men of his are stuck in Stalingrad. That’s bound to weaken him. That, on top of the losses in North Africa.’
He brought his gaze down to meet hers. ‘Yes, you’re right – of course. Might have known you’d be on top of the facts.’
She punched him on the arm. ‘Stop teasing me. I just like to keep well informed, you know that. As you do yourself, don’t deny it.’
He raised both hands in surrender. ‘All right, I admit it. We’re both as bad as each other.’
‘That’s more like it.’ She grinned and then glanced at her watch. ‘We should start to think about going in. They get very busy, you know, and this is the first concert after the Christmas break.’
He turned to head up the steps with her. ‘The only thing is,’ he said cautiously, ‘that if the Atlantic convoys are safer, then my skills might be needed elsewhere. I don’t know where – or even if that’s what will happen,’ he said quickly, catching her glance. ‘It would make sense, that’s all. So I’ll be prepared for whatever comes next. Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for a while.’
She halted her ascent of the steps, swallowing hard. ‘Of course. I know you’ll write when you can. Just let me know in the usual way.’
‘I will. You know that.’ For a moment their eyes met and that sense of deep connection flowed between them, in a way that happened with nobody else. He put a hand on her arm. ‘Come on, we’re holding people up. We should go inside now.’