Читать книгу: «Christmas for the District Nurses»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Keep Reading …

About Annie Groves

Also by Annie Groves

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
December 1941

‘I don’t see why I have to do it. Why can’t you?’

Gladys shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew that there would be no point in getting angry with her younger sister. That never achieved anything. ‘Because I’m on duty this evening,’ she said calmly.

Evelyn threw up her hands, groaning theatrically. ‘Of course you are. You’re always on bleeding duty. Proper saint, you are. How did they ever manage without you?’

Gladys took the two steps necessary to cross their tiny kitchen and reached for her gabardine coat that hung on the back door. She still hadn’t grown out of the thrill of putting it on, of having her own uniform. She’d waited long enough to be able to join the Civil Nursing Reserve. She was damned if she was going to let her sister make a drama out of nothing, yet again. ‘What’s so important that you can’t make a bit of stew?’ she asked.

Evelyn scowled. ‘I was going to do my hair.’

Gladys laughed. ‘Do what to it? Didn’t you just do it?’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ Evelyn snapped meanly. ‘It’s not as if you ever took any trouble with yours. Look at it, just hanging down straight, all flat and horrible.’

Gladys shrugged, pulling on her heavy coat. She knew her mousy-brown hair was lank but she was far too busy to spend hours curling it in papers or hunting down bleach or whatever smelly substance it was that Evelyn used to lighten her carefully coiffured locks. ‘Not much point when it’s mostly hidden by my cap,’ she pointed out.

‘Exactly.’ Evelyn pouted. ‘You’re always down that blasted first-aid post, when you aren’t running round after those district nurses in their precious home. You never have no time for us no more. I have to do everything and it’s not fair.’

‘Not fair?’ Gladys couldn’t bite back her instinctive response. ‘I tell you what’s not fair. Having to miss nearly all my schooling cos Ma couldn’t cope with all seven of us. Working my fingers to the bone for you lot when I was only a kid myself. Only learning to read when I started work at the nurses’ home. Even that was just good luck in that two of them made time to teach me. Now, when I finally get a chance to do nursing like what I’ve always wanted, you still expect me to cook for you first, so you don’t have to give up an evening doing your hair.’

Evelyn wasn’t impressed. ‘Oh, not that again. Poor old Gladys. You’d have hated school anyway – I know I did. So count yourself lucky.’

‘Pity you didn’t make the most of what chances you had,’ Gladys said, taking out a pair of navy gloves from her coat pocket.

‘I don’t need school learning for what I’m going to do.’ Evelyn’s eyes flashed boldly.

Gladys paused. This was new. ‘What do you mean?’

Evelyn folded her arms in defiance. ‘I’m going to go on the stage.’

Gladys stood still and stared. ‘You’re going to what?’

‘Go on stage.’ Evelyn sounded more defensive now. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Glad. I’ve got a good voice, I have, and I’m going to be famous like those film stars. I could be the next Vivien Leigh.’

‘Your hair’s the wrong colour,’ Gladys pointed out. Typical, she thought. She herself had a good voice, and it wasn’t being boastful to think so, because one of the district nurses who was really musical had told her so. But she wasn’t daft enough to imagine she could go on stage with it. A few carols around the home’s piano were enough for her. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. There’s a bit of lamb on the cool shelf in the larder and potatoes under the sink. Make sure they all wash their hands before they eat. Oh, and by the way,’ she halted briefly before stepping out into the cold of the December evening, ‘you might have to wait before you start your stage career. The government’s just brought out a law saying that every woman who’s not married between twenty and thirty has to sign up for war work. I don’t think they count singing.’

Evelyn snorted. ‘You’re just jealous. I’m not twenty yet, anyhow.’

‘Not far off, though,’ Gladys shot back. ‘You’ve got, what, about eighteen months to become a star, then you’ll have to sign up for the Land Army or whatever.’

‘Never! I’ll break my nails.’ Evelyn looked aghast. ‘But I tell you what, I shan’t ever do what you do. I think it’s disgusting, all that blood and all. You don’t know who half those people are or anything.’

Gladys smiled, unmoved by her sister’s final comment. She carried on smiling as she made her way along the back lane and headed towards the first-aid post, which was in the nearby church hall. She didn’t care what anybody else thought. She had believed that nursing was beyond her wildest dreams and yet here she was, about to start a shift in a job she loved. It didn’t matter that she’d already done a day’s work, cleaning and cooking at the nurses’ home. She truly could not think of a better way to spend her evening.

‘You awake, Billy?’ Kathleen turned over on the narrow mattress and shook the shoulder of the man lying next to her. ‘It’s nearly time for your shift.’

Billy groaned. ‘Just two minutes’ more kip, Kath.’ He stretched, his feet pressing against the cold wall of the small room. He’d often wished he was taller, but now he realised his average height was a blessing. He wouldn’t have fitted into Kathleen’s bed otherwise. Strictly speaking he shouldn’t have been there at all.

‘It’s no good, Billy. I can’t hold back the clock. Shall I make us a cup of tea while you get ready?’ Kathleen was half out of the bed but he pulled her down to him again and stopped her.

‘Let’s wait a bit. Let’s have a cuddle, warm me up before I have to go out.’ He smiled up at her, scarcely able to credit his good fortune. Here they were, together at last. It wasn’t exactly as he had imagined it, squeezed into a tiny bedsit instead of their own home, but he didn’t care. As long as he had Kath with him, he could move mountains.

She sighed. ‘Not long now and we’ll have a proper big bed.’

‘That day can’t come soon enough,’ Billy agreed, moving his feet so they didn’t touch the freezing wall. ‘We’ll deserve it an’ all. Lord knows we’re due a bit of comfort, you and me.’

Kathleen hugged him, pressing her face into his dark hair, cut short but still with a bit of curl to it. She still had to pinch herself sometimes. Despite the disappointment of having to postpone their wedding, she counted herself lucky to be in his arms. She didn’t care about the poky room. She had never known much better, and soon they would have their own home, a real house with a separate bedroom for her little boy, and their own yard out the back which they wouldn’t have to share with anyone.

She shifted slightly, careful not to make too much noise. Her landlady lived downstairs and didn’t approve of Billy coming to visit, although she generally turned a blind eye. Sometimes Kathleen felt guilty that they had pre-empted their wedding vows. But after the horror of what had happened, she couldn’t bear the thought of never having had Billy in her arms, not knowing his love. Life could be snuffed out at any moment.

For years she had lived in a small downstairs flat on a side street in Dalston. She had moved in when she’d married her first husband, Ray, full of hope for the future. That had soon vanished when she realised what sort of man he was – mean, unreliable, violent. She’d been blinded by his good looks, although everyone had warned her. She hadn’t listened. The only good thing to come out of the marriage was her boy, Brian, who would be three in the new year. Now Ray was dead, killed down at the docks where he’d been trying to cash in on the black market.

Kathleen had tried to show some respect for him; he was her son’s father and she wanted to do the right thing. However, she had been harbouring her secret love for Billy ever since the scales had fallen from her eyes about Ray. They had been at school together and, once Ray had disappeared, supposedly to find work, she would never have managed if it hadn’t been for Billy helping her out, along with their good friends around the corner, the Banham family.

She had been overjoyed when Billy had proposed. He’d announced it at a Banham family christening and it had brought tears to her eyes when she saw how happy her closest friends were for them. Finally it looked as if their life together could begin.

Billy had always lived with his mother, who had been thrilled to hear that her son had at last become engaged to the love of his life. However, she felt she was too old to cope with a toddler around the house. Billy had understood. He had planned to move in with Kathleen after they married, even though her place was really just one big room with a back kitchen and a shared privy in the yard. He was out most of the time anyway, working down at the docks in Limehouse, or on ARP duty in the evenings.

They’d fixed the date even while the Blitz had rained down on the streets around, causing havoc, destroying houses, roads, entire families. They had been under no illusions about the danger, but one day in the summer their plans fell apart.

Kathleen had been at home with Brian when she heard the familiar wail of the air-raid siren, which had sounded practically every night for months on end. ‘Off we go, then,’ she’d said to her little boy, hurriedly bundling him into his siren suit and snatching up the bag she kept in readiness by the front door. Together they had hurried to the local church hall, set up for those who had no Anderson shelters in their gardens. At the last minute she had decided it would be quicker to push him in his old pram, and that meant she could load the shelf underneath it with his teddy bear and wooden bricks, extra food, and a few of her own essentials.

Never had she been so thankful to have acted quickly. When the all clear came the next morning, they had returned to a scene of devastation. Jeeves Place had taken a direct hit, and Kathleen’s home was nothing but a pile of smouldering bricks. She could see straight through to the yard and the houses that had backed on to it. Neighbouring properties had lost all their windows, some of their roofs and brickwork. The smell was indescribable.

‘This your place?’ a kindly policeman had said. ‘Afraid you can’t come any closer – it’s not safe.’

‘But … my things,’ she had gasped. ‘All my clothes, all my boy’s clothes, they’re in there.’ Even as she said it, she recognised that they had very little left behind worth saving.

‘You can come back later when we’ve made it secure,’ the policeman had suggested. ‘Do you have anywhere you can go in the meantime?’

Kathleen had gulped, taking in the changes to her old street. Its narrow pavements were shrouded in dust and rubble, a few residents grey-faced with shock standing at the far end beyond the cordon. ‘Y-yes, I think so.’ She hoped the Banham household was still standing. She didn’t think her shaking legs would take her any further.

She had the desperate urge to get Brian away from all of this before he could realise what was going on, that the only home he had ever known was now in ruins. ‘We’ll go to my friends,’ she had said, and swung the pram around as fast as she could.

It was a matter of minutes before she arrived at the Banhams’ front door, which was still mercifully in place. Jeeves Street had taken a pounding earlier in the summer and there were gaps in its once-solid terraces, but the house she sought was intact. True, the air stank of fires and brick dust and, worse, an underlying stench of decay and rust. But the Banham home, for years her sanctuary, stood firm.

Mattie, her best friend, had cried with relief and hugged her hard before pulling her into the heart of the house, the big kitchen, with its view over the awkward wedge shape of not-quite-garden. Flo, Mattie’s mother, had immediately set about making tea and pouring precious orange juice for Brian, as Mattie still got extra for nursing her younger child. Kathleen had collapsed onto a chair, relieved beyond measure that she was safe and so were her closest friends and their children. Mattie’s father, Stan, was an ARP warden in the same section as Billy, and Flo promised to inform him at once that they were in one piece. ‘We thought you would be,’ she said. ‘We knew you went to the church shelter whenever the siren went, no matter what time of day or night. We all squashed up into our own shelter, packed in like sardines we was.’

Kathleen had stared around, taking in Mattie, her face tear-streaked, with her daughter Gillian pulling at her sleeve, and younger child Alan grizzling from his cot in the corner – the one that Gillian and Brian used to share when they were smaller. Flo looked worried but resolute, as usual. Only then, once Kathleen had her cup of tea and could see that Brian was chatting away happily to his teddy, did it occur to her that everything would have to be changed.

So the wedding was postponed until Kathleen and Billy could find somewhere to set up home together. That was easier said than done. Both wanted to stay in the area; as well as Billy’s mother, his work was relatively close by. Kathleen had family down in Haggerston but wasn’t close to them. They had all but washed their hands of her when she had married Ray against their advice, and although she sometimes visited her mother, it was more out of duty than anything else.

She and Mattie had often talked about taking Brian, Gillian and Alan out of Hackney to somewhere safer in the countryside; as mothers of such small children they would be eligible to be evacuated with them. Yet it was hard to leave Mattie’s parents. Both of Mattie’s brothers had joined up when war had broken out, Joe in the navy and Harry in the army. Harry had vanished at Dunkirk and for many bleak months everyone believed he was dead, but he had survived … just. He was still recovering in hospital, and was in no position to help his parents should they need it. Mattie’s husband Lennie had been taken prisoner at the same time and nobody could say when he would be home, though they all talked determinedly of ‘when’ and not ‘if’.

Mattie and Kathleen had worked together to keep the household running smoothly, while everyone kept their ears to the ground in case word of a house or flat came up. Even so it was many months before Stan got wind of anything likely.

Then, in November, he’d been on duty one night when there had been an accident with a gas main and he had helped to evacuate a nearby block of flats. A grateful elderly resident had confided in him as he slowly walked her towards a WVS mobile canteen so that she could have a warm drink on the chilly evening.

She was worried that her sister’s house would be broken into by looters. The sister had left it to go to her daughter’s, and wouldn’t be coming back as she was too frail. How could she find reliable tenants? She didn’t know what to do for the best. Stan had offered to put her in touch with the ideal young couple.

Now Kathleen turned in Billy’s arms, thoughts of the new house filling her mind. It was between her old flat and Butterfield Green, an open space which would be good for Brian to play in come the better weather. It had two bedrooms upstairs, a large one at the front big enough for a proper double bed, and a smaller one at the back. Downstairs was a front parlour, a kitchen that was more like a scullery, and, an unexpected luxury, a lean-to bathroom at the back, with a copper for hot water and no need to step outside on a cold night. It was more than they could have hoped for.

Once again she briefly wondered if she and Billy should have waited until the wedding before sleeping together but, after the postponement, they had decided that enough was enough. They had waited for years, always acting properly despite their strong attraction and ample opportunity. Who knew what awaited them. So Kathleen had found a temporary billet with Brian, and Billy had taken to visiting between his days down at the docks and his evening shifts. It wasn’t much but they savoured every second they had together. After all, they would be together officially soon, with a new date for the wedding set just before Christmas.

‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ she said, reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms. She had never felt safer in her life, secure in the knowledge that this was where she belonged. ‘Nearly time to go.’

He smiled easily as he turned onto his back and looked at her, the waves of brown hair falling around her beloved face, brushing his own shoulders. ‘Got a few minutes yet, haven’t we?’ His eyes grew bright.

She took in his look and smiled back. ‘I thought you were tired, Billy Reilly?’

His smile grew broader as he drew her closer to him. ‘Never too tired for you, Kath,’ he breathed, before kissing her deeply and drawing the covers over them once more.

CHAPTER TWO

‘This is what comes of taking up the tram tracks to use the metal for the war effort,’ groaned Edith as she set down her Gladstone bag in the common room of the nurses’ home. ‘Or not having any spare metal for new bikes. Kids try to ride ones built for adults. Then they fall off. I’ve had two broken arms to look at in one afternoon. It puts me off riding my own bike, I can tell you.’

Alice had got in from her rounds ten minutes earlier and had made a pot of tea. ‘Here, have some of this. It’ll put you in a better temper.’

Edith collapsed into a comfy chair with well-worn cushions and looked up at her tall friend. ‘Thanks. I will. Brrr, I’m freezing, there’s a bitter wind out there.’

Gladys was passing by and caught her words. ‘Shall I build up the fire a bit? Gwen said we can have an extra bag of coal to boost our morale.’

Edith nodded enthusiastically, mindful that this was a big concession from their deputy superintendent. ‘That would be lovely. Sure you don’t mind? I’d offer to help but my fingers are numb.’ She wrapped her red hands around the cup of tea, feeling its warmth as her fingers began to tingle. ‘That’s more like it. Thanks, Al.’

Pushing back her dark blonde hair behind her ears, Alice took a seat beside Edith. ‘That’s what should be top of your Christmas list, then. New gloves.’

Edith nodded. ‘I think Flo’s knitting me some. That’s why I haven’t tried to replace these old ones, which are full of holes.’ She pulled out a bundle of navy wool from her pocket and held it up. Her hands were scarcely bigger than a child’s, appropriate to her birdlike frame. ‘Call that a glove? It’s more like a fishing net now. Mind you, I’ve had these since we qualified. So that’s, what …?’

‘Two and a half years,’ said Alice at once. ‘We began as district nurses back in the summer of 1939.’

‘Before the war.’ Edith raised her eyebrows. ‘Hard to imagine there was such a time, isn’t it?’

Alice nodded, sipping on her own tea. ‘No shortages. No air raids. A proper night’s sleep. Remember those?’

‘Only just.’ Edith took another gulp of tea. ‘I know the raids seem to have stopped now but I still feel as if I’m making up lost time for all those hours of sleep we missed. Sometimes I wake up and imagine I can hear the siren going, out of sheer habit. Does that mean I’m going crazy?’

‘Probably.’ Alice set down her saucer. ‘I know what you mean though. You get used to going to bed expecting to be woken up and having to run down to the refuge room. If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be able to sleep sitting up on a hard chair, I’d have thought it was impossible, but now we know better.’

‘Still prefer my own bed though.’ Edith loved her little attic room, which had few extra comforts but all the essentials. Before coming to the Victory Walk home she’d never had her own room. It was her haven, and she resented every air raid that took her from it. ‘I’m tempted to go up and have forty winks now before the evening meal, but it won’t be as warm. Gladys, that fire’s lovely – come on, Al, let’s sit right beside it now it’s blazing.’

Gladys beamed in triumph. ‘Me ma always said I was good at getting a fire going. When we had any coal to burn, that was. Sometimes me little brothers would come back with wood they’d found and we’d use that.’ She brushed her hands across her apron. ‘I’d best be going, I’m on duty at the first-aid post tonight.’

‘How’s it going?’ asked Alice.

‘Very well. I love it,’ said Gladys honestly. ‘The most difficult thing is to get me sister to help out at home. That’s why I want to be off now, so I can leave again in good time for my shift. Our Evelyn, that’s the one who’s only a couple of years younger than me, needs to get into the habit of being the cook around the place and I ain’t giving her any chance to make excuses.’

‘Quite right.’ Edith frowned. ‘You’ve done more than enough for them, Gladys. You’re needed elsewhere now.’

‘That’s what I says to them,’ Gladys replied with determination. ‘Give that fire a good top-up before you eat and it’ll keep going all evening. See you tomorrow, then.’ She hurried out.

Alice shook her head. ‘Doesn’t sound as if that sister is making life easy.’

‘Don’t you go worrying about it, Al, you can’t make no difference. We did the best we could, teaching Gladys to read. She’s got to sort out things at home. High time her sister stepped up, but it’s not our business.’

‘I know.’ Alice sighed and stretched back in the wooden carver chair she’d pulled as close as she dared to the roaring fire. She rolled her shoulders back a few times, easing out the tensions of the day, made worse by cycling around in the cold. Then she brightened. ‘I forgot, I had a letter today.’ She dug around in the pocket of her Aran cardigan, a present from her mother on her last visit home to Liverpool.

‘Is it from Joe?’ Edith asked eagerly, her dark eyes gleaming. She knew Alice received regular letters from Joe Banham, and plenty of the nurses speculated that this meant there was romance in the offing, although Alice maintained it was no such thing.

‘No.’ Alice’s face grew solemn. ‘I haven’t heard from him for a while. Not that it means anything,’ she added hastily as Edith’s expression grew anxious, ‘there might be problems with the post.’ With Joe in the navy, they were never sure where he actually was at any given time.

‘Of course.’ Edith was equally determined not to jump to the worst conclusion. Joe would be all right. He had to be. His parents had been through enough when they believed his brother Harry was dead – as had they all, her more than anyone. Harry was the love of her life and she had felt as if part of her had died too; now he was slowly recovering, there was not a day that went past when she didn’t count her blessings. ‘So who is it from, then?’

Alice drew out the envelope and showed her friend the handwriting on the front: bold, forward-slanting lettering. ‘Dermot,’ she said.

‘Oooooh, Dermot.’ Mary had arrived, her face breaking into a broad smile at the mention of the doctor who had temporarily worked at a local surgery when the regular doctor had been unwell. ‘How is the divine Dermot? Still breaking hearts all along the south coast?’

‘You’re late back,’ Edith said, watching as Mary found another carver chair with a faded cushion and pulled it across to join them. ‘Was there a problem?’

‘No, not really. Mr Emmerson was feeling a bit lonely, that’s all, so I stayed for a chat,’ Mary explained, warming her hands in front of the flames. ‘He misses his sons, poor old devil. But then one of his daughters-in-law popped round so I left them to it.’ Mary’s elderly patients loved her as she had the knack of getting them talking. She often said that it wasn’t simply their aches and pains that needed attention, it was that since the war broke out more and more of them were on their own. ‘So what has the lovely Dermot to say for himself?’

‘Anyone would think you had a soft spot for him,’ teased Edith. ‘Better not let Charles hear you saying that.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing. Charles has been too busy recently to hear me say anything. I hardly see him.’ Mary’s face fell and her chestnut curls drooped a little. Her boyfriend was a captain in the army and, even though he had been based in London for much of the war, he found it difficult to spare time away from his duties at headquarters. ‘So, cheer us up, Alice. What’s the news?’

Alice scanned the sheets of paper, covered in vivid navy ink. ‘All right … good … he’s well, he sends his best. Reading between the lines, they’re working flat out, there’s no let-up even though the raids over the airfields have died down. Lots of his colleagues have gone to serve abroad so there’s twice as much to do for those left on the home front.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ said Edith.

‘No budding love interest, then?’ Mary was always keen to hear about other people’s romances as hers had gone into the doldrums.

‘If there is, he isn’t saying.’ Alice looked up from the letter and folded the top sheet. ‘He might not tell me, of course.’ She counted herself immune to Dermot’s considerable charms as he’d trained as a doctor at the same time as she had studied for her first nursing qualification, back in Liverpool. Their relationship had always been that of colleagues, whereas his arrival in Dalston had caused uproar among the single nurses, and even those not so single.

‘That’s too bad. Well, I live in hope.’ Mary’s good mood had bounced back.

‘He’s wondering what it will be like treating American troops, now they’ve joined the war,’ Alice went on, skimming the second page. ‘He’s going to be working alongside a couple of surgeons from New York, by the sounds of it.’

Belinda rushed in, her dark, tightly curled hair a tangled mess. ‘Budge up, I’m frozen solid,’ she said, bringing across yet another chair to the fireside. ‘I thought I was going to be late for the meal, the ambulance took so long. Woman in labour with a breech birth,’ she explained hastily. ‘Did somebody say “American troops”? Go on, Alice, tell me about my favourite subject.’

Alice pulled a face. ‘Nothing specific, sorry. Were you hoping for news of a battalion of them to be stationed up the road?’

‘We should be so lucky.’ Belinda made a face as well. ‘Look, I know Pearl Harbor was terrible but we have to look on the bright side. All those handsome young men coming across the ocean just to rescue us.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Bringing gifts of nylon tights and chocolate …’ Mary sat up straighter. ‘I know, I know, better not let Charles hear me say that. Still, you can’t deny that things might start to get interesting.’

‘Exactly.’ Belinda beamed in anticipation.

‘The only good thing is, it might mean that the war is over faster,’ Alice said seriously.

‘True. No, you’re right, I realise that,’ Belinda said hastily. ‘It’s just that you’re not looking for a boyfriend, are you, Alice, but some of us like to keep on the alert just in case. There’s a bit of a shortage of eligible men around here if you hadn’t noticed. So if there are thousands of them about to board ship for Europe, then I for one intend to be ready. What are you looking at me like that for? I’m just saying.’

Edith got to her feet. ‘Looks as if the meal’s ready. Stew again, by the smell of it.’ She reached for her bag as she rose. ‘I’ll take this back to my room and see you down here in a mo.’

Alice stood as well. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it like that,’ she admitted.

‘Well, some of us have,’ said Belinda with spirit, unfolding her tall, slim frame from the warmth of the chair. ‘Who knows, Alice, we might get you out dancing yet.’ She ran after Edith, her thick nurse’s cloak over one arm, her Gladstone bag swinging from the other.

Alice watched them go, reflecting on Dermot’s letter, less concerned by what he had said than what he hadn’t. There had been no mention of Mark, Dermot’s best friend, who had also trained at the big Liverpool hospital when they were there. Mark had broken her heart. She had believed that they were destined to be together and that he felt the same as she did. However, the lure of the Spanish Civil War had been stronger and Alice found herself deserted, not for another woman but for a rival against which she could not hope to win: a cause. Gradually she had hardened her heart and poured everything into her work instead.

Yet it was only human to wonder if he was all right. She knew he had returned from Spain and enlisted as a doctor, and was – to the best of her knowledge – somewhere on the south coast, treating the Forces and also any enemy airmen who had been shot down this past year. She told herself it was enough to know that he was alive, doing the work that he loved and was so supremely good at. There could be nothing further between them. But it did mean that, however enthusiastic her colleagues were, the very last thing she ever wanted to do was to go dancing.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I thought these new girls were meant to help us out but this has been the slowest day I can remember in all the time we’ve worked here,’ Peggy Cannon complained, pulling off the dusty headscarf that she wore while working in the gas-mask factory. ‘I know they’ve got to register for some kind of war work, but why didn’t they sign up for something they’re good at?’ She rolled up the fraying piece of cotton and shoved it into her bulging handbag.

Clarrie was more forgiving. ‘You forget what we were like at first. We were all fingers and thumbs. Give them a few days and they’ll catch up.’ She shook free her own hair, which was a striking red, all the more noticeable in the dull changing room of the factory.

‘They’ll have to,’ Peggy grumbled. ‘We’re going to be making more than gas masks and boxes now, aren’t we? I heard we were going to do stuff for weapons, rubber seals and that.’

Clarrie glanced around. ‘Don’t go saying that outside these walls.’

Peggy snorted. ‘What do you take me for? Do they seriously think we won’t notice that everything we’re working on is a different shape?’ She buttoned her coat, with its worn patches from several years’ use. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just in a bad mood.’

Clarrie shrugged, used to her friend’s impatience. ‘Well, my sister’s gone and put her name down for the Land Army,’ she said. ‘Can you credit it? She can just about peel a carrot; she’s never grown a thing in her life. Pity the poor farmer who ends up with her.’

Peggy grinned at the idea. ‘Maybe she’ll be good with animals. Used to take that dog you had when you were little out for walks, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, but she didn’t have to kill it and eat it,’ Clarrie pointed out. ‘No, she’s in for the shock of her life. And she’ll most likely be out in the middle of nowhere, no dancing or nothing.’

One of their fellow workers passed by, half hearing their conversation. ‘Oh, are you going dancing?’ she asked casually. ‘Well, good for you, Peggy, cos you’re over him by now, aren’t you? Let’s face it, he’s been dead much longer than you was wed. Best to get back out on the dance floor!’ and she was off in a trail of cheap perfume, leaving Peggy with her jaw dropping at the insensitivity of the comment.

Clarrie tucked her arm through her friend’s. ‘Pay her no notice. She don’t know what she’s talking about.’

Peggy swallowed hard. ‘I know. She’s nothing but hot air, that one. She don’t know the half of it and that’s a fact. Come on, let’s get out of here.’ She found it was suddenly hard to breathe. She’d go for ages convincing herself that she was all right, but all it took was one callous remark and she was back down in the deep well of grief, mourning Pete, who’d been her husband for less than a year when he’d been killed at Dunkirk. As if a bit of dancing could put right the unfairness of that.

Not that she hadn’t tried. Where Edith had stayed in, craving silence and stillness to remember her Harry, Peggy had thrown herself into escaping, drinking, dancing, staying out, and generally carrying on as if there were no tomorrow. Sometimes it helped her to forget, more often it just brought it home to her how wonderful Pete had been and how nobody else came close. She’d had one particular dreadful incident, when she was attacked by a Canadian airman whose dark good looks hid his violent heart. She had even bounced back from that, as far as the few people who knew about it could tell. Only Peggy knew that her love for Pete was so deeply buried that nothing could touch it, and she couldn’t see how she would ever get over his loss.

Clarrie glanced at her watch. ‘Tell you what, shall we have a quick one down the Duke’s Arms? It’s Friday, there might be some of the old gang from school there.’

Peggy perked up. That was one place it wouldn’t matter if two young women came in for a drink on their own. They had plenty of friends who often went there and most of them had known Pete.

‘Yes, let’s. Pete’s mum won’t be waiting for me, it’s her WVS day.’ Peggy continued to live with her mother-in-law and, although the two women had their occasional differences, there was comfort to be had in the knowledge that they had both loved Pete.

The cheerful old pub was not far from the factory and already the main bar was buzzing with conversation. There was nothing fancy about it, and from the outside it was impossible to tell, in the blackout, that it was full of old metal lamps inside and well-polished woodwork, with a welcoming atmosphere that drew the regulars back time after time. Clarrie waved at a few people as she pushed her way in, Peggy – who was shorter – following behind. Clarrie was like a beacon with her bright hair, and Peggy sometimes felt in her friend’s shadow.

‘Hello, girls, what can I get you?’ A familiar figure was standing at the bar.

‘Billy! What you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home getting ready for the big day?’ Peggy came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the young man grinning sheepishly over the top of his pint.

‘Dutch courage,’ he admitted, setting down his glass. ‘Come on, what’ll it be? You might as well take advantage of my last night as a free man.’

Clarrie laughed. ‘Surely you of all people aren’t having second thoughts, Billy?’

Billy gave her an incredulous look. ‘Me? Of course not. It’s just, well, you know, I’ve got to stand up in front of everyone and say my vows. What if I mess it up? I’m getting all nervous just thinking about it.’ He grinned to make a joke of it but they could see his hand was shaking a little.

Peggy faced him seriously. ‘You won’t, Billy. And, even if you do, who’s going to care? Kath won’t, she’ll be glad that you finally made it to the altar at last. She won’t want you smelling like a brewery though, I can tell you that for a fact.’

Billy shook his head firmly. ‘I only just got here. I won’t be staying. Only wanted to settle me nerves a bit then I’ll get back to Ma’s, make sure she’s all set for tomorrow. What can I get you?’

‘Half a shandy,’ said Clarrie at once.

Peggy was tempted to say port and lemon, but that drink had been her downfall once too often. ‘I’ll have the same,’ she said, and caught Clarrie’s brief glance of approval.

‘Then I’ll have a half meself as a top-up and that’s it, no more till after the … the wedding.’ Billy suddenly went bright red. ‘I still can’t believe it. I’m really marrying Kath tomorrow. How about that?’ His eyes shone as he passed them their shandies.

‘Cheers, Billy,’ said Clarrie. ‘If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you and Kath. We’ll be there in our glad rags to wish you well. Half eleven, isn’t it?’

‘I got to be early,’ Billy grinned. ‘I’ll be in no end of trouble otherwise. I’m not even on duty this evening.’

‘I should hope not! Not on the eve of your wedding, Billy. Let the ARP cope without you for once.’ Peggy took a sip of her drink.

‘Anyway Stan’s working tonight so we’re all in the best hands possible.’ Billy carefully poured his half of bitter into his pint glass, wishing he didn’t feel so shaky.

‘I’d have thought he’d be wanted back home,’ Clarrie said. ‘Aren’t we all going back there tomorrow after the service?’

Billy nodded. ‘Yes, Ma couldn’t cope with having a crowd of people, Kath’s bedsit is smaller than that table over there, and we don’t have no spare cash to hire a hall. Besides, she feels as if Jeeves Street is her second home, so it’s the best thing all round. I’m ever so grateful.’

‘It’s only what you deserve, Billy,’ Peggy repeated with sincerity, even as a little voice whispered that she too had known that thrill of anticipation and sheer happiness, and would never find it again.

The atmosphere in the church was calm, with a faint smell of dust, flowers and beeswax. There was a moment of silence which felt to Billy as if it lasted a lifetime. Then Kath looked up at him, blinked hard and said, very clearly so that everyone could hear: ‘I do.’

Billy thought his heart would burst with happiness and pride. He looked down at her and met her eyes, which were the most beautiful in the world.

‘You may kiss the bride,’ said the vicar, and Billy didn’t need to be told twice. Even as he did so he could sense the rush of approval from their guests, ranged along the front pews.

Kathleen had not wanted to wear white. She had done so for her first wedding, and that had brought her precious little joy. Now that clothing was growing harder to come by, it was a waste of time, effort and material to have a dress that could be worn only once. She had gone for the more practical choice of a neat suit in soft grey featuring a nipped-in waist, with a deep rose blouse that she had made herself. It flattered her delicate colouring. Mattie had done her hair first thing in the morning, persuading it to fall in waves, sweeping it up at the sides so it wouldn’t get in her eyes.

Billy knew this was not a repeat of her previous disastrous marriage. They would start out differently, and do everything differently. He would be a proper husband to her. After today, they would move into their new house and start their life. He would show her what a happy partnership could be like. He remembered how it was when his own father had been alive – how contented his parents had been, comfortable to accommodate each other. He would build on that. She deserved nothing but the best.

The organ began to play and the vicar gently gestured to the newlyweds that they should turn and make their way back down the aisle. Billy grinned and Kath smiled back up at him. ‘Off we go, then,’ she breathed, tucking her hand through the crook of his arm.’

‘Off we go,’ he repeated. ‘You and me, Kath. Together from now on.’

The Banhams’ kitchen was full to bursting, and so was their front parlour. If the weather had been warmer, the guests would have spilled outside into the back yard, but the bitter chill had put a stop to that. Everyone crowded inside, enjoying the spread that Flo had conjured up from pooled ration cards, friends’ and family’s generosity and sheer ingenuity. At the centre of it all stood the happy couple, both of them still grinning from ear to ear.

Billy was in his only good suit, with a new white shirt and borrowed smart striped tie. He’d loosened the knot and undone his top button as soon as he’d reached Jeeves Street, not being used to such formal restriction. Now he laughed with relief. He hadn’t made a mess of his vows after all, but had stood at the altar and spoken with complete conviction. Kath could now set aside the hated surname of Berry and become Kathleen Reilly. They would change Brian’s name too. Billy loved the little boy as if he was his own son, and in truth had already been a far better father to him than Ray had ever been.

Brian himself wore a new pair of smart tweed shorts and had started the day in a new pale green shirt that now had food down it. Nobody minded. Flo privately vowed to clean it later, and he could borrow one of Gillian’s jumpers. Gillian was proudly copying Brian and smearing her own blouse with pickle. Flo was tempted to intervene but it would have meant dashing through a group of people and creating a scene; today was not the day for it.

Attracting nearly as much attention as Kathleen and Billy was Harry Banham, back on a rare visit home. He sat in an armchair, carefully propped on cushions. Even though he had suffered his injuries eighteen months ago, he was still receiving treatment for them, and had recently undergone yet another operation. His old spirit had returned, though, and he encircled Edith’s waist with his good arm. She was perched on one arm of the chair, happy to be snuggled next to Harry, conscious of the warmth of him through the material of her best frock.

‘Us next,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting.

Edith giggled. ‘Can’t wait, Harry.’ She turned to face him. ‘We’ll get you patched up a bit more first though.’

Harry pretended to be offended. ‘What, you mean you miss my ravishing good looks?’

‘You’ll always be the most handsome man in the room to me, Harry.’ Edith’s voice grew serious. ‘But you know as well as I do that there will be more operations to come. We don’t want to ruin the chance of them succeeding. I really, really don’t want to wait but it’s for the best. For the time being, at any rate.’

Harry pulled her closer still. ‘I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. You mean the world to me, Edie.’

She tipped back her head and laughed. ‘I know,’ she said happily. She wanted to be Harry’s wife more than anything, but realised that any delay in his treatment might mean it was less likely to be fully effective. There were all sorts of new developments in the treatment of facial burns, as so many airmen had suffered them during the Battle of Britain. Harry didn’t need the kind of reconstruction that some of them did, but he’d had a skin graft on one side of his face to repair the worst of the damage there. Fortunately his hair had begun to grow back and he could wear it a little longer than the standard army crew cut, to mask the upper scars.

Edith couldn’t decide if it made it better or worse that she was a nurse. Sometimes she could take a step back and recognise how wonderful it was, that the surgeons had such skill and could help mend what would have been permanent terrible disfigurement only a few years ago. Next she would remember all the risks that came with any surgery and her heart would fill with dread that Harry would react badly to the anaesthetic or go down with a dangerous infection. Then she would give herself a talking-to. After all, she had thought she had lost him for good. She would take him back into her willing arms whatever shape he was in; if he could be given some semblance of his former appearance, then so much the better.

Clarrie came over, balancing a plate of Spam sandwiches in one hand. ‘They let you come home, then?’ she asked. ‘We didn’t know if you’d be allowed out yet.’

Harry smiled up at his old school friend. ‘Didn’t want to miss this,’ he said. ‘I felt bad that I couldn’t say for certain that I’d be here. Billy wanted me to be his best man but there was a chance the last operation would be put back a week and I knew I couldn’t say no to that.’

‘Course not.’ Clarrie put her plate down on a side table before its contents fell off. ‘There, help yourselves. Anyway, his mate Ron did a grand job. He scrubs up well, don’t he? I’ve never seen him in a suit before. And it was lovely that your dad gave Kath away.’

‘Yes, well, she’s almost family so it was only right,’ Harry said, accepting the sandwich that Edith passed him. ‘Her own dad passed away years ago and she don’t get on with her brothers. Their loss, I say.’

Edith nodded vigorously. She knew what that felt like; she had very little to do with her own brothers, who had thought she’d got ideas above herself when she’d taken up nursing.

‘Joe didn’t get leave, then?’ Clarrie asked, smoothing down her turquoise cardigan, which she’d teamed with a blue and green scarf, knowing those colours set off her red hair.

‘No, he hasn’t made it,’ said Harry, his expression fading. ‘Haven’t seen him for ages, have we, Edie?’

‘No, more’s the pity. We don’t even know where he is these days.’ Edith automatically cast a glance across the room in Alice’s direction, to where her friend was talking to Mary. If Alice didn’t know where Joe was, then nobody did. As their friendship was partly based on a common love of books, he would write to her and tell her about what he was currently reading. Then Alice would work out where the author of the book was from, or where it was set. That would be where Joe was at the time of his writing the letter. But there had been no letters for a while. Edith had the feeling that Alice was more concerned than she let on.

Clarrie picked up the empty plate. ‘I’ll get you some more, shall I?’ she asked, and moved off before either of them could answer. Edith appreciated it; she just wanted to stay cuddled up tight to Harry, and the less he moved around the better.

‘I don’t suppose Kath and Billy are going on honeymoon,’ Harry said.

‘No, it’s too hard to travel and they don’t have much money to spare,’ Edith said. ‘They’re going to their new house and Brian’s staying here, so they can have a bit of time on their own.’

Harry gave her a squeeze. ‘Lucky them.’

‘Yes,’ Edith sighed. ‘Oh Harry, how I wish it was us.’

He squeezed her again. ‘Me too. But our day will come, Edie.’ His voice was quiet but full of conviction. ‘Our day will come.’