Christmas for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

‘Peggy!’ He set down his bag and threw his arms around her, swinging her into the air. ‘You came all the way to meet me! And look at you – you’ve found a beautiful dress.’

  ‘I made it.’ Peggy laughed into his ear, taking in the unique smell of him, of spice and soap and whatever it was that made him so special to her. ‘It’s really for summer, but I had to wear it.’

  ‘It’s how I always imagine you,’ he said. ‘It’s the one from my picture, isn’t it?’

  ‘As close as I could get it.’ She squeezed him tightly and only let go when he reluctantly set her down, so that they could walk back to the concourse and out of the busy, bustling station. It was noisy with passengers, railway staff and porters, and impossible to hold a conversation, but it didn’t matter. Their connection went deeper than that.

  Peggy was aware that they were attracting stares as they walked along holding hands but she didn’t care. They had weathered worse than hostile glances. Besides, some of the looks cast their way might have been of envy. She counted herself lucky beyond measure to have such a handsome man at her side. Let the rest of them think what they liked.

  ‘You’re not too cold, are you?’ she asked anxiously, as their breath puffed visibly in the air.

  He chuckled. ‘You got to be kidding me. Back on the base, the wind sweeps in straight from Russia. I’ve never known cold like it. They don’t believe in heating our quarters or the mess. This is the lap of luxury.’

  She giggled and clutched his upper arm to pull herself in closer. ‘No it isn’t. It’s mayhem. Shall we go somewhere quieter?’

  They stepped out of the station entrance and out onto Bishopsgate.

  He looked around. ‘I came this way last time. Let’s break that cycle and find somewhere for a drink, if that’s what you’d like.’

  Peggy nodded. ‘We can come back here to get a bus, but let’s get you warmed up first. There’s a pub around the corner – at least it was there the last time I looked, you never can tell. I went there once or twice with Pete. If you don’t mind that … sorry, it’s the first place that I thought of.’

  James shook his head. ‘I don’t mind. I’m glad you can say his name. We can’t go our whole lives not talking about him, not when he was your man for so long.’

  Peggy nodded. ‘Exactly.’ But her heart sang at his words. Did he mean that they would be spending their whole lives together? It seemed like a big step. Perhaps it was just his turn of phrase. She guided him around the corner into an old side street, the buildings tall and the pavements narrow, so that there was hardly any light in the dull early afternoon. On the far corner stood the pub. It was nothing fancy, and smaller than the Duke’s Arms, but she was relieved to see as she pushed open the door that it still had an air of welcome. James held the door as she walked in, and manoeuvred his bag behind her.

  A few faces looked up but there were no hostile glances. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. Despite her earlier confidence, she didn’t want him to begin his leave in an angry atmosphere. ‘What can I get you?’ he asked. ‘A shandy? Something stronger? I don’t mind telling you, I’m having a whisky. I’d have a coffee but you Brits don’t know how to make it.’

  ‘That’s because tea is better,’ Peggy countered at once. ‘I don’t see what the fuss is all about. But since you’re asking, I’ll have a port and lemon.’ She knew it was early in the day for such a thing – but if she couldn’t celebrate James’s safe arrival, then when could she?

  Settling into one of the comfortable faded benches by a window that faced on to the narrow street, she felt happy and safe for the first time in months. She gazed at James as he brought the glass to his mouth, revelling in how right this seemed. It had been months since they had seen each other, and all manner of doubts had come between them meanwhile, but now he was here, it was as if they had never been apart. It was a combination of total contentment and tingling excitement. She could breathe freely again. He was here; he was hers.

  Then she remembered. ‘I got you something. It’s not special or anything, I just wanted you to have it to open as we won’t be together for Christmas.’ She reached into her bag and drew out the little box. She had wrapped it in tissue left over from an old perfume bottle. It was a deep green that reminded her of ivy leaves.

  ‘Shall I open it now, then?’

  ‘Go on. Well, you could take it back with you, but I want to see your face when you see what I found for you.’

  He flashed her a big grin and then carefully pulled back the delicate paper. Slowly he opened the box, and then laughed in delight. ‘Hey, you’re getting good at finding these things. Where did you get this?’ Inside was a shiny tiepin, plated silver but decorated with tiny polka dots.

  ‘Searched high and low, of course.’ Peggy smiled back, happy that he liked it and appreciated the effort that had gone into it. It had been only slightly less difficult than making the dress.

  Now he undid the outside pocket of his bag and rummaged inside. A moment later he produced another little gift box, flatter, and wrapped in a stripy paper bag. ‘Sorry, it was all I could find,’ he said. ‘You got more talent for those sorts of things, I can see that.’ His rich brown eyes gazed into hers and she felt a delicious warm sensation.

  For a moment she wondered if it was a ring. No, it was too soon. He saw her hesitation and motioned for her to carry on.

  Inside the flat box was not a ring but a delicate bracelet, glinting in the low light of the pub gas lamps. It had tiny blue stones set against gold bars, held together with slim chains. She had never seen anything quite like it. ‘It’s … it’s beautiful,’ she said, at a loss for words to convey just how much she liked it.

  ‘Say, the blue goes with your frock. How about that.’

  ‘It even fits,’ she said, looping it around her wrist. ‘How did you know what size?’

  He looked a little sheepish. ‘I remembered when we were dancing, I could just fit my thumb and first finger around your wrist. I done it specially but you never noticed. Then I said to the woman in the jewellery store, it’s about this big. See, there are extra pieces in the box if you need to get it altered.’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘It’s perfect as it is.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m glad.’ Then he paused, looking into her eyes with intent. ‘I saw how you looked before when I opened my big mouth – maybe I shouldn’t have said “the rest of our lives”. It just came out.’

  ‘Oh.’ She hadn’t realised that he had noticed such a fleeting glance. What did he mean?

  ‘See …’ He wrapped his hands around the heavy whisky glass. ‘That’s maybe a crazy thing to say. What with us being in the middle of a war and all. If times were different … but then you and I would never have met.’ He paused again as if to gather his thoughts. ‘I can’t promise you anything, Peggy, cos we could be sent off to fight at any time. Just like you can’t promise me, working like you do in that factory, bombs falling on you for months on end. Just let’s say if we make it through—’

  ‘When we make it through,’ she interrupted at once.

  ‘Then we’ll be together. Here, or in the States, or somewhere the other side of the world – makes no difference. If I can be with you, that is. You don’t have to answer now. It’s a lot to ask. We both know there are folks out there who want to keep us apart. You don’t have to agree, now you got an idea of what the stakes are.’ He reached out and held her hand.

  Peggy felt her eyes fill with tears and blinked them away. ‘I don’t have to wait to give you my answer,’ she said. The little bracelet chains tinkled softly. ‘The more they try to keep us apart, the more I want us to stay together. They can’t stop us loving each other. My answer is yes.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Edith didn’t know whether to admire the last patient of the day or to be cross with him. Geoffrey Harrison was in his early sixties and she could tell that he was not the sort to think of himself as old. He had immediately told her that he had been a ca
ptain in the Great War and had seen action in France, and had no intention of letting a mere illness stop him from going about his daily business.

  ‘I’m in the Home Guard, you know,’ he wheezed, propped up on pillows in his big wooden bed. ‘They can’t manage without me for long. I’m the only one who can lead the drill properly.’

  ‘Well, they might have to,’ Edith said briskly. ‘You’ll do nobody any good by making yourself even sicker.’

  ‘Oh you young women, you have no idea of what it’s like,’ Captain Harrison began, but Edith held up her hand.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, Captain. You have to save your breath. See now, you’ve made yourself cough.’

  The man tried to respond but could not. Edith shook her head. He had to rest or his pneumonia would get the better of him; it was as simple as that. She could see from his over-bright eyes that he was running a fever, and when she took his temperature it was seriously elevated.

  ‘One hundred and three,’ she said, shaking the thermometer. ‘No wonder you don’t feel well.’

  ‘It’s just a chill,’ he croaked. ‘I got caught in a rain shower. That’s all.’

  ‘It’s pneumonia, and you have to take it seriously,’ Edith told him. There was no point in beating about the bush. ‘Dr Patcham has prescribed these red tablets, and you must keep up your fluid intake. Otherwise you must rest. The infection doesn’t care what work you usually do.’ She refrained from mentioning that people referred to it as ‘old man’s friend’, as it had a habit of killing elderly men. She knew the statistics. Once you were over sixty you had a 20 per cent chance of dying, and the mortality rate doubled if you were over seventy. Even with the newest drugs, it was a potentially lethal illness.

  Captain Harrison coughed loudly and cleared his throat. ‘Churchill had it earlier in the year, didn’t he? He kept going.’

  Edith began to prepare a bed bath for him. ‘As a matter of fact, he couldn’t,’ she said. All the nurses had followed the medical bulletins concerning the prime minister’s illness with great interest. ‘He was so bad he had to cancel lunch with the king. So if he could slow down for a while, then so can you.’

  Her patient huffed and harrumphed but in the end had to give in. Edith was relieved. There was no point in fighting pneumonia; rest was the best treatment. She carefully sponged him down, being as reassuring as possible, knowing that he would be embarrassed. She worked as quickly as she could while being thorough. ‘There, that will make you feel better,’ she said, rearranging his bedclothes before tidying away her equipment into its mackintosh sheeting and back into her big bag.

  ‘Thank you, nurse.’ He looked a little shamefaced now. ‘Will you be working over Christmas? Shall I see you then?’

  Edith smiled. ‘No, today is my last day. One of the other nurses will look after you for a couple of days.’ Belinda had volunteered to cover the holiday itself, as she did not celebrate Christmas and wanted to save her days off. ‘I’d rather have the free time when my brother is back,’ she had explained.

  ‘Will you be having roast turkey with your family?’ the man asked, more friendly now that he had been made comfortable.

  ‘I’ll be with my husband’s family,’ Edith replied, making sure she had all her bits and pieces before taking her leave. She swiftly scanned the room, which was respectable rather than extravagant, but much better appointed than many of the homes she visited. ‘I’ll open your window a little, and will tell your wife to close it later. There, how is that? Yes, my husband has unexpectedly got leave after all, and so it will be quite a celebration.’ She gave him a wide smile.

  ‘Have a very Merry Christmas, nurse,’ Captain Harrison managed to say before coughing once more.

  ‘I’ll see you after Boxing Day, and make sure that you rest in between,’ she instructed. ‘I shall check with my colleague, so you won’t get away with anything.’

  ‘Yes, nurse,’ he said meekly, but his eyes flashed with humour.

  Back outside in the small but extremely neat front garden, Edith fastened her bag to her bike and put on her gloves. She could hardly believe that Harry had managed to get leave for the second year in a row. He had written a few days ago to say there was virtually no chance because his grim supervisor had been worse than ever of late, and yet yesterday, on their first wedding anniversary, word had come that he would be back in time for the big dinner at Jeeves Street.

  She shivered with a little thrill at the thought of having him home again. Even though she was dog-tired, she tingled with excitement. Her stomach did a small flip at the idea of him holding her tight, keeping her warm on the cold December night. She would do her very best to buoy up his worryingly fragile confidence and make him see how brave he was. She hummed as she cycled along the potholed road, the light dimming in the late afternoon. Her handsome Harry was coming home.

  Gladys was appearing out of the side entrance to the Victory Walk house as Edith pushed her bike up to the rack. ‘Merry Christmas, Edith,’ she said, coming over, her breath puffing in tiny clouds in the cold air. ‘I’ll wish you it now as I won’t be here tomorrow.’

  ‘Neither will I,’ said Edith, shoving her gloves into her cloak pockets. ‘Merry Christmas to you too. Are you cooking for your family?’

  Gladys laughed, her usually plain face transformed. ‘No, can you believe it, our Evelyn’s doing it – or most of it anyway. She’s turned over a new leaf now she’s better at last. Says it’s her last chance to do something for all of us before she goes away in the New Year.’

  ‘Oh, where’s she off to?’ Edith was surprised.

  ‘She’s going to be a Land Girl,’ Gladys told her. ‘I know, you could have knocked me down with a feather as well. After spending the last year swearing she’d do no such thing, she’s got to report for duty the first week of January.’

  Edith raised her eyebrows. ‘It could be exactly what she needs. But hang on, won’t that mean lots more work for you at home?’

  Gladys knotted her woollen chequered scarf around her neck. ‘Since Evelyn’s been ill our Shirley has been a big help,’ she said. ‘She can do most of it. She’s older than I was when I started looking after the little ones. She likes it, which is more than Evelyn ever did. So I can carry on working for you nurses and doing first aid in the evenings. Might even have a bit more spare time.’

  Edith grinned wickedly. ‘And do you have any plans for spending that spare time?’

  ‘I might have,’ said Gladys archly. Then she had to share her news. ‘I’m going to walk out with Ron. He’s ever so nice. He took me to a café down by Victoria Park for tea and cake, treated me ever so well. He’s so funny, and kind. Doesn’t mean I won’t stay late here when I have to, though.’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t think that for one moment,’ Edith assured her. ‘I’m glad for you, honest. He’s a good man, Gladys – you deserve a bit of luck, after all you’ve done for everyone else.’

  Gladys blushed but nodded. ‘I do, don’t I?’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Well, have a lovely time tomorrow. Enjoy those Brussels sprouts.’

  ‘We will.’ Edith waved as her friend headed home, treading carefully as the pavements were already icing up.

  Gladys and Ron, she thought. He would be so good for her, making up for all the disappointments she had suffered over the years. He wouldn’t take advantage of her, or let her down. He was as reliable as could be. She wondered if Alice or the Banhams knew.

  The warmth of the corridor hit her as she hurried inside. First she would unpack her Gladstone bag and make sure everything was sterilised, ready for her rounds in two days’ time. Then she would go up to her room and find her smartest clothes for tomorrow. She wanted to look her best for Harry. She hoped her face did not betray how exhausted she felt these days. She wanted to dazzle him when she gave him her news. If that didn’t make him feel like a man again, she didn’t know what would.

  The news would have to wait, Edith realised, as she and Alice arrived to find the Banham household in cheer
ful chaos on Christmas morning. The two nurses had made the short walk to Jeeves Street as early as they could, but Harry had beaten them to it and was now being treated like the guest of honour.

  Alice set down the vegetables that they had brought from the victory garden, ready to be prepared in the back kitchen, as Edith ran to Harry and hugged him. He pulled her down onto his lap and there was no chance to talk in private. The house had been decorated with greenery and brightly painted paper chains, which Gillian had insisted on making after seeing what Brian and Kathleen had done. A fire was blazing in the grate, while the delicious smell of roasting turkey was beginning to fill the room. Flo and Mattie bustled around the kitchen counter, peeling and chopping, while Stan offered to make tea for everybody.

  Edith struggled to rise and join in the preparations, but Flo told her to stay put. ‘We’ve enough hands here,’ she pointed out. ‘You two enjoy each other’s company, and if we need you then we’ll say.’ Edith half-hoped this would mean they could snatch a few moments alone in the parlour, but Harry wanted to stay in the limelight, surrounded by his family.

  ‘I got here so early because Charles arranged a lift,’ he said, shifting a little to balance her weight more evenly, and she noticed how much more easily he moved his bad arm now.

  ‘Charles? What’s he got to do with you getting home from your barracks?’ she asked, confused.

  ‘Ah, well, I have news,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘I shan’t say more till everyone’s here – Billy and Kath and the kids are coming over later. Just you wait.’

  ‘I’ve got some news too,’ she murmured, but it was lost in a crash as Mattie dropped a saucepan while trying to lift it down from a tall shelf. Stan hurried over, protesting that she should have asked him in the first place, and the moment was gone.

  ‘So no Joe this year?’ she said instead, once she could hear herself speak again.

  ‘No.’ Harry’s face fell a little. ‘It would have been too much to hope for, that we could both have got leave two years in a row. He’s sent a card, but he doesn’t say where from.’