Christmas for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

  ‘Let’s have a cup of tea.’ Mrs Cannon bustled into action. ‘Everything feels better after a nice cup of tea.’ She set the kettle to boil and reached for the old tea tin with its picture of roses on the side. Pete had bought it for her when he was still at school, and even though it was a bit battered, she could not bring herself to replace it.

  Peggy tried to muster some enthusiasm for the idea but her ‘yes please’ was dull and mechanical.

  ‘He’ll have been delayed,’ Mrs Cannon predicted. ‘You know how these things are nowadays. He probably couldn’t find a way to let you know. Don’t lose heart, Peggy. He’ll have set off in good faith but the trains will have let him down.’ She pushed the blue cup across the table.

  ‘Yes, I expect so,’ said Peggy slowly. ‘That must be it.’

  ‘It will be, dear.’ Mrs Cannon spoke reassuringly but cast an anxious glance at the girl. ‘Don’t go worrying that it’s something worse when it probably isn’t.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Peggy attempted a smile but did not sound convinced. She pulled the cup towards her but made no move to drink from it.

  ‘You know how fond he is of you,’ Mrs Cannon continued. ‘That lovely soap he sent, that clever drawing, all the places you’ve been to since then. He won’t have wanted to miss seeing you. Something will have happened to prevent him coming.’

  ‘Yes,’ Peggy repeated, but her voice was full of doubt.

  Mrs Cannon wrinkled her brow. ‘Peggy, you don’t seriously imagine he decided not to come? To let you down?’

  Peggy turned in her seat so that she did not have to meet the woman’s gaze. ‘How do I know?’ she said brokenly. ‘We hardly ever see each other. He could easily have met somebody else, somebody who lives closer to the base. Or decided he doesn’t love me any more. I just don’t know.’

  ‘Oh my dear.’ Mrs Cannon stretched her arm across the table and patted Peggy’s hand in an uncustomary gesture of affection. ‘It doesn’t seem very likely, does it? That’s disappointment talking, that is. Of course you’re upset that he hasn’t come, but it won’t be because he’s changed his mind about you. It will be trouble with the trains. Tomorrow you’ll get a message or a letter or something, and all will be right again. You’ll see.’

  Peggy nodded but still did not touch her tea. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ She shifted a little in her seat. ‘Don’t worry about staying up with me. You must be tired. You’ve been busy all day – you must be dying for some rest.’

  Mrs Cannon nodded. She had spent the morning at a WVS canteen, the afternoon sorting children’s garments for a clothes exchange, and then the evening at another WVS meeting. She was well and truly ready for her bed. ‘That’s very considerate, Peggy. If you don’t mind I shall take my tea with me and go upstairs. Don’t you sit up late worrying about nothing. A proper night’s sleep will work wonders, and then everything will seem better in the morning. I’m sure you’ll hear from him then.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ Peggy tried to look as if she believed the reassuring words. She waited until the older woman had gone upstairs and then rose, dully packing away into tins the scones and biscuits that she had made with such hope and love. No point in wasting them. She’d used all the sugar ration and Mrs Cannon might as well savour the benefits, even if James couldn’t.

  Wearily she emptied her tea cup and dragged herself upstairs. Lying awake, fully alert, as if she still expected him to knock on the door, she went through the endless reasons why he had not appeared. There were so many sensible ones, but she could not shake the fear that he had changed his mind about her. It was no use. She was fully committed now and she knew that if he had gone off her, she would be lost. She had to hope that he was all right, that it was a silly delay, but her fear kept her awake as the moonlight tracked its long patterns across her bedroom ceiling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ron had reluctantly allowed Kenny to persuade him to visit the Boatman’s one more time. It wasn’t that he thought he’d enjoy himself, but he wondered if it might be useful. He was apprehensive about speaking to Gladys without proper evidence. Maybe he’d overhear something that would help her warn her sister.

  Kenny had been enthusiastic, mainly because the beer was cheap and plentiful, unlike in some of the pubs where drink had grown hard to come by. Ron could guess what that meant – this place was getting supplied via the black market. Well, of course it was. That sounded like Max and his brother all over. Now Kenny waited at the bar, its wooden surfaces and panels stained with drips from the smudged glasses.

  Ron felt strangely nervous about speaking to Gladys again. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly. He knew he wasn’t God’s gift to women and could be a little awkward, but he wasn’t completely wet behind the ears. He could usually strike up a conversation, hold his own. There was something about her that had impressed him. She had obviously been very ill at ease in the pub, and yet it hadn’t stopped her doing what she thought was right. He owed it to her to get all the facts, and then he would seek her out.

  It was taking Kenny an age to get served. The barman, the landlord, was clearly distracted, running off every time he seemed about to take the drinks order. Ron pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. It was warm, oppressive even. Perhaps there was going to be a storm. He could do with a nice cold beer.

  Finally Kenny returned to the little table with two pints. There were no beermats, but then the table had seen better days. Ron took a sip and the foam made a creamy moustache above his lower lip. Kenny laughed at his friend and pointed. ‘Look at you, Father Christmas.’

  Ron grinned at the weak joke but his mind was elsewhere. ‘What’s he doing?’ he asked, nodding to the barman, who was yet again disappearing behind the scenes.

  ‘Dunno.’ Kenny set his glass down. ‘He’s been like that all evening. There’s some sort of palaver going on but not sure what it is.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s that Max fellow. Thought I saw him earlier, although I thought he was dodging the coppers. Hope he keeps to that side of the bar – he’s enough to put you off your drink.’

  ‘I agree.’ Ron had no desire to cross swords with the big man, but he was keen to know, all the same, if Kenny was right.

  They fell into a comfortable silence, each alone with his thoughts. It had been a busy day at the docks, and the work had been hot. It was good to sit and sink a beer, even if Ron would rather have been in the Duke’s Arms. Kenny was watching his money though.

  The quiet mood was interrupted when Evelyn came through the swing door from the street outside, her hair blonder than ever, her figure more obviously curvy than before – even Ron noticed. Kenny raised his eyebrows in appreciation. Ron pulled a face at him. ‘Don’t even think about it, she’s trouble,’ he muttered.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Kenny wasn’t offended.

  She went straight to the bar. ‘Where is he?’ she called through the archway to the back room. She had on a loose pale blue tunic, gathered above the waist, and Ron observed how she seemed to be standing a little way away from the bar and yet she was leaning on it. She must have put on some weight. Lucky her, to be so well fed when everyone else was having to go without. Unless …

  Ron didn’t have any sisters and neither did his close friends, but something about the girl’s stance put him in mind of Kathleen when he’d seen her after she and Billy had announced they were going to have a baby. It wasn’t obvious, just the way her centre of gravity had altered. If she hadn’t been at the bar like that, he might not have seen, or thought nothing of it. Now he was on full alert. Was this the consequence of what he and Gladys had witnessed that time in the yard?

  ‘Hold your horses,’ called the barman, out of Ron’s line of sight.

  This seemed to infuriate Evelyn. ‘Don’t you tell me that!’ she shouted. ‘He’s kept me waiting for ages. I know he’s back there. I’m coming round.’ With that she swung open the wooden flap at the end of the bar, through which the barman would come and go when collecting the gla
sses, and let it crash down again behind her as she disappeared behind the row of optics to wherever the landlord had gone.

  Ron turned to Kenny. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Best to stay out of it,’ Kenny advised. ‘It’ll be a private tiff. None of our business.’

  ‘Yeah, but she’s Gladys’s sister and he’s a bully who’s twice her size,’ Ron pointed out, getting to his feet.

  Kenny frowned up at him. ‘What you going to do about it? Come on, sit down, finish your pint, and then it’ll be your round.’

  Ron suddenly lost the desire to drink from the murky glass. ‘You have it. I’ll just pop around the back, make sure it’s all right. Don’t worry, there’s a side way through; that Max fellow won’t even know I’m there.’

  Kenny looked doubtful but pulled the half-finished pint towards him all the same. A beer was a beer.

  Feeling as apprehensive as he had all those months ago with Gladys, Ron edged through the side door and into the storage area. It was much hotter now, and still daylight, although that was fading fast, partly due to the gathering grey clouds. The air was thick and humid, and his shirt was sticking to him. Perhaps Kenny was right, this was none of his business. He could pretend he hadn’t noticed anything, go back to his friend and pass the time of day over a fresh pint, return home and sleep the sleep of the just. Yet he knew he could not.

  Out of nowhere there came a scream and the sound of a door banging open.

  ‘Get out there, don’t you go spreading your filthy lies,’ snarled a male voice, and there was a thud as something or someone fell to the floor. Ron craned his neck to see but there were too many stacked barrels in the way to get a clear view.

  ‘It’s not a lie!’ cried a woman – Evelyn’s voice by the sound of it. ‘All I need is the money and I can sort it all out. It won’t take no time at all then I can be back good as new, do the concert—’

  ‘For fuck’s sake there ain’t no concert, not any more. Have you not heard a word I said? I got to make myself scarce around here and I don’t need your lies. You try to get any money from me and you’ll be sorry.’ Another thud, and a whimper from Evelyn.

  ‘Don’t hurt me,’ she begged. ‘It’s not like that, don’t take on so. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t yours.’

  ‘How the hell do I know that? I seen how you look at all the men in here. Could be any one of them what got you up the duff. If it’s not just something you cooked up to fleece me.’ Feet shuffled and scraped against the stone floor. Evelyn whimpered again.

  ‘Let me go. You’re hurting me.’

  Max gave a savage gasp. ‘You think I’m hurting you? You call that hurt? I’ll show you what hurt is, you lying bitch.’ He grunted and then Evelyn screamed even more loudly.

  Ron twisted around the barrels and had to stop himself groaning in horror as for the first time he got a direct view of the couple. Max was towering over Evelyn, who was lying abjectly on the ground. With another grunt Max swung his leg and his boot connected with her stomach. She tried in vain to shield it with her arms but he pulled at her and landed another kick right in the abdomen. Then another, and yet another. He was beside himself with rage, his eyes almost shut. Evelyn’s screams continued and then abruptly halted, but not before Max had landed one final powerful kick into her crossed arms.

  Ron had seen enough. He could not stand by and watch Max tormenting the young girl. He edged around the stacks of barrels, squeezing through the gap to reach the back yard.

  ‘There, now you won’t spread no more lies.’ Max wiped his hands on his dark trousers, once part of a sharp suit but now dusty and smeared with stains. Then he looked up as Ron emerged into view. ‘Who the bloody hell are you?’

  Ron took in the bulk of the man but reckoned he himself was no pushover. He lifted heavy weights all day every day at work. If it came to it, he would give as good as he got. ‘Stay away from her,’ he gasped.

  Max snorted in contempt but made no move to attack. He seemed to be weighing his options. Ron took a step towards him and at that the big bully of a man showed his true colours and turned and ran, through the door on the other side of the yard. It slammed hard behind him.

  Anxiously Ron slowly approached the figure on the ground. The light was very low now but her pale tunic was clear against the dark stone floor. She was very still. He bent to feel for her pulse, trying to think what Gladys or the nurses would do. ‘Evelyn, can you hear me?’ he asked. ‘Evelyn, wake up.’ Then he saw the slick of blood, shiny and viscous, spreading around her.

  It was Gladys’s turn to shut the church hall, and so she methodically went around checking that each gas light was properly turned off, that the supplies were packed away, and finally that the big entrance door was locked. It was heavy, but she tugged on it to make doubly sure. She didn’t want anyone breaking in and stealing their precious medical equipment; it was far from easy to replace at short notice.

  She could see that there had been a heavy rain shower. Earlier on there had been a rumble of thunder, and she had been grateful for it, as it had been unbearably humid up until then. Now the air was fresher and colder. She breathed it in deeply.

  ‘Gladys! Is that you?’ A figure was approaching on a bike, water from the many puddles splashing from the wheels. Whoever it was appeared soaked to the skin. She peered at him in uncertainty.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called, trying not to be anxious.

  ‘It’s me, Ronald. Ron. Billy’s mate.’ Ron squealed to a halt, more rainwater spraying up and drenching his trousers, but he paid it no heed. ‘Gladys, you got to come with me. It’s Evelyn, she needs you. She’s being taken to the hospital.’

  Gladys almost dropped her bag in shock. ‘What? What’s happened to her?’ She couldn’t tell him her immediate thought: that her sister had gone to one of the backstreet quacks who claimed to have failsafe ways of getting rid of unwanted pregnancies. If that was the case, then it would be her fault. She should have tried harder to help. Fear gripped her throat.

  ‘I’ll tell you as we go,’ said Ron. ‘Quick, hop on.’

  Gladys stared at him, intermittently lit by the arcs of the anti-aircraft beams. ‘I … what?’

  ‘Hop on. You know. I stand up to pedal, you sit behind me. It’ll be the fastest way.’

  Gladys shook her head. ‘I don’t know how.’

  Ron was perplexed. ‘What, you never done this after school with your friends?’

  ‘No,’ said Gladys, reluctant even now to admit that she had had no friends because she had hardly gone to school. Now was not the time for such confessions. It sounded very unsafe, and she’d never had a bike, and besides the roads were soaking wet. Yet how else was she to get to Evelyn? She steeled herself. ‘Show me,’ she said.

  Ron took a deep breath. He’d never come across anyone who hadn’t done this before, and these were not ideal conditions in which to begin. Still, it wasn’t as if they had much choice. ‘Sling your bag here with my jacket,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll be able to balance and have both hands to hold on to me.’

  Gladys gulped. ‘I have to hold on to you?’

  ‘Well, yes. How else are you going to stay on? I have to have the handlebars to steer with. So you hold on to me around the waist. Sorry I’m sopping wet – there was a cloudburst as I set off.’

  Gladys nodded, seeing there was little alternative. ‘Yes, I heard it.’ She put her bag on his jacket as instructed. ‘All right. I’ll try.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ said Ron, doing his best to sound encouraging. ‘Never mind the rain, eh? It’s just a bit of water.’ He stood up on the pedals and felt her arms go round him. He wouldn’t even think about that, not right now.

  ‘It’s just a bit of water,’ echoed Gladys, beyond worried now for her sister, but determined to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, no matter what. Slowly and unsteadily, they set off.

  Gladys had never been in the hospital at night before. She had had a few first-aid classes there during the daytime, before she
finished her Civil Nursing Reserve training, and so she knew her way around. However, nobody in her family had ever been treated here as they could not afford it. All of her mother’s many childbirths had happened at home, usually with Gladys helping out when she was old enough.

  Now she tried her best not to be spooked by the shadowy corridors. She was too concerned about Evelyn to think about the state of her jacket and blouse, covered in wet patches from where she had held on to Ron. Somehow they had succeeded in covering the distance to the hospital without falling off the bike. In the back of her mind she had noticed how fit he was, how he had pedalled the weight of both of them as if it were no trouble at all, expertly shifting his balance to counter her clumsy attempts to stay upright. She had never been so close to a man before, and had hardly ever touched one, apart from when performing first aid. Now she had held one around the waist for what felt like a very long time, although the hospital had not been far away.

  Ron strode along beside her, making sure she found the right ward. ‘I won’t get in your way,’ he said. ‘I just want to know you’ve found her. Also, if you don’t mind, I would like to know how she is, after … after what I told you I saw.’

  Gladys drew in a sharp breath, horrified all over again at what had befallen Evelyn. From that first moment, when Max had abandoned her at the church hall door, she had known he was a bad type, but never in her wildest imaginings had she thought he would do something like this. While a part of her was relieved that her sister had not tried to get rid of the baby in some filthy back street, she was now consumed with worry about what sort of state Evelyn would be in or, worst of all, if she had even survived the attack.

  The ward was busy, and Gladys glanced around to check if there were any familiar faces. The hospital was close enough to her house and Victory Walk for somebody to recognise her, or her sister. She would rather no one knew of Evelyn’s condition, for the sake of her sister’s reputation. She wondered which ambulance crew had brought her in and whether the ARP had been involved; there would be a good chance that she would either know them or they would know people she worked with. Once he had summoned help, Ron had set off to find Gladys before anyone had arrived, leaving Kenny to wait for whichever service was nearest.