The District Nurses of Victory Walk Page 7

  ‘What did you say?’ demanded Alice.

  Edith gave her a straight look. ‘I said yes, of course.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Edith talked about nothing else for the rest of the week. Alice wondered if she even noticed what her patients said to her; when Alice asked her how the old lady on Boleyn Road was coming along after several repeat visits, Edith simply shrugged and said ‘all right’. When a postman fell off his bike and Edith was first on the scene, she barely commented on it, despite it being the most exciting thing to happen for ages. They’d had to draw the details out of her one by one.

  ‘Where’s he taking you?’ Mary asked, excited for her friend and gamely putting aside her envy at not being picked. It was Friday morning and they were eating breakfast.

  ‘He didn’t say. But if he gives me the choice, I’m going to suggest Jamaica Inn. It’s meant to be all moody and romantic. It’s on at that new Odeon on Hackney Road, so we won’t even have too far to go. He could walk me home,’ Edith said dreamily.

  ‘Sounds as if you’ve got it all planned,’ said Alice. It wasn’t that she begrudged her friend an evening out, but since it had been the sole topic of conversation for days she was getting fed up.

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that, Al. I bet you’ve wanted to see that film as much as I have. Shall I ask him if his brother wants to come along and we could make a four?’

  Alice tightened her jaw. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘No, can’t say I blame you,’ said Mary. ‘He was a bit serious, wasn’t he? And not as good-looking either.’

  ‘Right, I won’t bother then,’ Edith told her friend. ‘Don’t say I never do anything for you, though. What do you think I should wear?’

  ‘How about that flowery skirt you wore to the picnic?’ asked Mary, buttering her toast. ‘Pass the marmalade, Alice, would you?’

  ‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that. It will have to be something different,’ Edith insisted. ‘What about my blouse with the puff sleeves, Alice? You know, I got it cheap late last summer in the sales, then it got too cold to wear it.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Alice. ‘And you’ve got those sandals in cherry red that will go with its pattern. It was meant to be.’

  ‘Yes, that’ll be just right.’ Edith all but hugged herself in anticipation. ‘Only today’s shift and then it’ll be time to see him. I can’t wait.’ She took a spoonful of porridge and ate it slowly.

  ‘Aren’t you going to finish that?’ Mary demanded, always on the alert for any extra food. ‘Cos if you aren’t …’

  ‘You have it, I’ve got butterflies in my tummy already,’ said Edith, getting up and sliding her chair back under the table. ‘Right, I’ll see you two later before I go.’

  ‘That’s if there aren’t any last-minute emergencies,’ said Mary cheerfully, digging into the porridge, but Edith was already halfway across the room.

  ‘Right, that’s it, that’s me finished for the day.’ Alice slung her Gladstone bag down by the table in the dining area. ‘I’m parched. I was so busy all day I hardly had time for a cup of tea.’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Edith offered. ‘Then I’ll be off. I was lucky, my last visit was terribly quick. A toddler had burnt himself but the grannie was so fast at getting his arm under running water that I barely had to do anything. She and the kiddie’s mother knew exactly what was for the best. She was getting ready to bathe his arm with tea – that’s said to help you know; all that tannin in it.’

  Alice reached for a cup. ‘Funny, isn’t it, how some families are so well equipped and others have nothing.’ She thought for the umpteenth time of Kathleen Berry, in many ways so alone, and all the children of St Benedict’s with no running water in their homes. Little Frankie, with hardly any light. ‘That blouse looks good on you, Edith. And with those sandals too.’

  ‘I’m pleased it still fits.’ Edith primped her hair in the reflection of the window. ‘I’m going to bring my white bolero in case it turns cold later.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Alice began, but was cut short when Gladys came in, her expression an agonised mixture of shyness and urgency.

  ‘Please, Miss. Nurse Gillespie. They need yer.’

  Edith gasped in alarm. ‘Me? Are you sure it’s me they need? I’ve done my shift, Gladys, there’s been a mistake.’

  ‘No, Miss.’ Gladys twisted her hands. ‘It’s that postman what you saw before, he’s been took bad again, and they said you was to go cos you knew him and what happened.’

  Edith could have stamped her foot in frustration. ‘Not tonight, why did it have to be tonight? Harry will turn up and you or Mary will have to say I couldn’t make it. Then he’ll get all cross and he might even take Mary instead – I could tell he liked her, just not as much as me …’

  Alice took her friend by the shoulders. ‘Don’t be silly. I’ll go. You told me all about the accident. He’s probably tried to do too much too soon. Just give me the address and I’ll go. There won’t be much they can say about it if I simply turn up instead of you.’

  Edith looked up at her friend in relief. ‘Would you really, Alice? But you’re exhausted, you said so.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Alice, reaching once more for her leather bag. ‘I’ve had half a cup of tea, and if it’s close by, it most likely won’t take long. You go on, then we can say you’d already left before the message came. As long as he sees someone, it won’t matter which nurse it is. Sorry, Gladys, that’s a bit confusing, isn’t it? But I’m happy to go. I’ll be off now.’

  ‘Suppose so, Miss. Nurse Lake,’ said Gladys dubiously, her lank hair almost covering her eyes.

  Edith impulsively hugged her friend. ‘I owe you for this.’

  ‘You do,’ said Alice. ‘Have a lovely evening, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  The house was easy enough to find, and Alice reckoned it was almost exactly halfway between St Benedict’s and Jeeves Place. The door was open, and she propped her bike up on the tiny strip of paving stones serving as a front garden, before knocking and going inside. Her uniform made her instantly recognisable, and the woman leaning over the sofa in the tiny parlour stood up to give her room.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Nurse. We’re mighty glad to see you. I’m his next-door neighbour, and I heard Ernie cry out. I come round at once and found him here like this.’ The woman in the faded print apron wiped her hands nervously on her sleeves. ‘Will he be all right, Nurse?’

  Alice moved closer to the man on the sofa. ‘Mr Leagrave? Ernest, may I call you that? I’m Nurse Lake. I’m a colleague of Nurse Gillespie and she’s told me all about you.’ She spoke quietly and firmly, to reassure him and also to judge his reactions. Was he alert or confused? She dreaded that he’d developed concussion from the accident.

  Ernest Leagrave slowly moved his head round so he could see her properly. He was half lying, half sitting, propped against a pair of worn cushions. ‘You ain’t the one what looked after me before,’ he said, and though his voice was querulous there was no trace of confusion there.

  ‘No, I’m not. She’d finished her shift. I trained with her so I’m qualified to look after you just the same.’ Alice gave him a broad, steady smile. ‘Why don’t you tell me about what happened today?’ She noticed a footstool with a woven wicker top and drew it closer so that she could sit on it and look into his eyes on the same level.

  ‘I just took a funny turn. I said to my wife, you go and see yer sister like you was going to before I had my bit of trouble. Ain’t no need for you to stay home and look after me. Then I thought as I might as well go to work cos I was feeling so much better – but I had a funny turn. Me neighbour come in and help me and then sent for you.’ He fell back against the cushion as if worn out.

  Alice took his pulse and temperature, and assessed his breathing, then leant back. ‘What did the doctor say after you had your accident?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, doctors.’ The man, who was probably in his fifties, gave a snort of contempt. ‘N
obody would ever get anything done if they was to listen to doctors. Stay in bed, take it easy, all that rubbish. I don’t pay no attention to them.’

  Alice noticed the neighbour moving towards the door, mouthing, ‘I’ll be next door if you need me’, clearly eager to get back to her own business. Alice was glad – that meant there would be no one to witness the telling off she felt obliged to give her patient.

  ‘Now, Mr Leagrave,’ she began, quietly but firmly, aware that here was a man of definite opinions. The problem was, if he kept to them, he’d be putting himself in danger. Gently but insistently, she explained this to him. ‘The doctor didn’t advise you to rest because he couldn’t think of anything else,’ she finished. ‘He said it because it was what you need to do. And now, look what happens when you go against that. So you had better promise me you’ll rest like he told you.’

  Ernest Leagrave looked too worn out to argue, but nodded. ‘Yes, Nurse. I see that now.’

  ‘Good.’ Alice sat back. ‘Rest really is the best medicine. Then you’ll be able to return to work sure as eggs is eggs.’

  ‘That’s what I want, Nurse. I hate sitting around on my arse doing nothing,’ Ernest confessed. ‘I never was one for doing nothing. Just ask anyone who knows me.’ He nodded to a shape behind him, and Alice realised someone else had come into the room, so quietly she hadn’t heard them. ‘Here’s my colleague from the GPO, he’ll tell you. Isn’t that right, Joe?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t doubt it,’ said Alice comfortingly, and then did a double take when she saw who the newcomer was, recognising Joe Banham, the man who’d treated her curtly when she’d met him at Victoria Park with Edith. She swallowed hard. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Banham. I didn’t realise you’d come in.’ She stood. ‘I was just leaving.’

  ‘I’ve been here for a few minutes, you seemed engrossed in your work and I didn’t want to interrupt.’

  Alice was flummoxed knowing that Joe had been quietly watching her while she treated his friend. There was a smile in his eyes that she didn’t remember from their last meeting.

  ‘What about payment, Nurse? I want things done proper,’ Ernest insisted.

  Alice waved his suggestion aside. ‘No, no, Mr Leagrave. You pay into the scheme and, besides, I haven’t done anything except talk.’

  ‘Made me feel a good deal better though, Miss,’ he said stoutly. ‘You’re a tonic to behold, you are. You and that friend of yours, you tell her thanks again from me.’

  ‘I will, thank you,’ Alice said, picking up her bag and making for the door, avoiding eye contact with Ernest’s visitor.

  ‘I’ll see you out, Miss Lake,’ said Joe Banham. ‘Give me one moment, Ernie, and I’ll be back.’ He slipped out behind Alice as she went through the front door and into the narrow ribbon of a garden.

  ‘Really, there’s no need,’ she said. ‘You go and see your friend. Just don’t tire him out or let him do too much – that’s what’s brought him to this state to begin with.’ She spoke with more asperity than she’d intended, but somehow this man got under her skin. Especially as there wasn’t much room in this tiny garden.

  ‘I know,’ Joe said, and there was no disapproval in his voice this time. ‘I heard what you said to him just now. I wanted to thank you for being so straightforward – Ernie’s a good bloke but stubborn as they come.’ He paused, then gave a half-laugh. ‘I think I owe you an apology, Miss Lake.’

  ‘Really, Mr Banham?’ She raised an eyebrow, turning to face him full on.

  He nodded. ‘Here am I doing the very thing I blamed my sister for, talking about a friend behind their back. So I’m sorry. I can see how good you are with patients now. I got the wrong idea before. Just being over-protective, that’s all. Kathleen’s been unlucky.’

  Alice didn’t know what to say for a moment, it was so unexpected – first to bump into the man again and then to hear this. ‘Well, thank you,’ she managed, trying to put aside the quiet fury she had felt at the time. ‘I’m only doing what is best for the patients – I’d never do anything else. It’s not gossip if you’re telling me something that will help them.’

  ‘No, I understand now.’ He straightened. ‘Anyway, I hear my brother is taking your friend to the pictures this evening.’

  ‘So I believe,’ said Alice, not wanting to get drawn in. She still wasn’t sure if she could trust him.

  ‘ Jamaica Inn, possibly,’ Joe went on.

  ‘Possibly.’ Alice couldn’t see what business it was of his. ‘Personally I think I’d prefer the book.’

  ‘Yes, you can’t beat a good book,’ Joe agreed, his eyes lighting up.

  Despite herself, Alice responded. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’m a member of the Billet Library in Upper Clapton. Shall I see if they’ve got it? That’s if you haven’t read it?’

  Alice was taken aback both by the turn of the conversation and the offer, but couldn’t see how to say no and not sound rude. What harm could it do to accept? Perhaps she had been wrong about the man. He’d admitted it, so she should be able to acknowledge it as well. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That would be kind. I haven’t read it yet.’

  ‘You should join the library if you like books,’ he went on, warming to his theme. ‘It’s a subscription one but it gets all the latest titles. If you’re interested, that is. It’s not far, you could cycle there.’ He looked dubiously at the boneshaker.

  ‘I might,’ said Alice, not wanting to commit to anything. ‘If I have time.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Joe seemed to take that as a dismissal. ‘Well, I’d better be getting back to Ernie. See if he needs anything. Goodbye, Miss Lake.’

  Alice began to push her bike, aware of a strange feeling as she squeezed past him in the narrow space. ‘Thanks again.’ She looked at him as he turned to go. He had very deep brown eyes. She remembered the anger he had provoked, how intense it had seemed, and still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. ‘Goodbye, Mr Banham.’

  ‘Alice! Alice! Are you awake?’

  Edith crept into her friend’s room, guided by the light of the streetlamp outside.

  ‘What? What’s happened?’ Alice woke up in confusion. ‘Edie, is that you? Is something wrong? Whatever time is it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry,’ hissed Edith, skirting around the question of what time it was. ‘I just got back. Sorry, did I wake you? I thought you might still be up reading or something.’

  ‘No, but it doesn’t matter.’ Alice rolled over and sat up, rubbing her eyes. ‘How did it go?’

  Edith sat down on the bed in front of her friend. There was enough light for Alice to see how animated she was. ‘It was lovely. It was the best evening I’ve had for ages. Much better than dancing at the Paramount. He’s really nice, Alice, really nice.’

  ‘Good,’ said Alice, who was used to Edith’s conquests. Even so, it was unlike her to be so enthusiastic quite so soon. ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘He met me at the bus stop and we went to the cinema. He bought me an ice cream. He was a proper gent while the film was on, didn’t try anything on or nothing.’

  ‘What was the film like?’

  ‘Oh, it was scary, a girl gets trapped in a remote inn full of smugglers—’

  ‘Don’t tell me the whole plot, I might read the book soon,’ Alice interrupted.

  ‘All right, keep your hair on. You did ask. Anyway it was a great yarn, you’d like it. It was romantic, too, but I shan’t tell you why or it’ll spoil it. He did hold my hand a bit at the end.’

  ‘The film must have finished ages ago,’ Alice said. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘We went for fish and chips. He bought them, he’s very generous. Then we went to the pub to meet some of his friends.’

  ‘Edie, have you been drinking?’ Alice was wide awake now. ‘With someone you hardly know?’

  Edith shifted a little. ‘Don’t worry, I only had lemonade. I’m not daft. He introduced me to his friends and they all
seemed to like me. He’s a boxer, you know.’

  ‘A boxer?’

  ‘Yes, just amateur for now, but he thinks he’s going to make it big.’ Edith nodded. ‘Imagine! He could be famous. He’s already been in the local paper. This is just the start, he says.’

  ‘Goodness.’ Alice didn’t know much about boxing and wasn’t sure what to say. It sounded like a dangerous hobby.

  ‘Then he walked me all the way home. We couldn’t stop talking. You know sometimes you run out of things to say to someone – well, it wasn’t like that at all. You’d like him, Al. He knows lots of stuff.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Alice.

  ‘I said we’d meet him, you and me and Mary, and he’ll bring along his friends.’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Al. You’d have fun. You can’t hide away with your books for the rest of your life. Not after Mark and everything …’

  Alice pushed back her hair behind her ears. ‘I’m not hiding away. I just like a nice night in with my books. We’ll see. I’m sure Mary will go out with you. Anyway, how did you get back in? Isn’t it after curfew? Oh, Edie, not again!’

  Edith shook her dark curls. ‘No, no, it’s fine – I was just in time. About thirty seconds to go, I reckon. I was very careful. Even so, I crept along so I wouldn’t wake Gwen or Fiona. So it’s all turned out fine.’

  ‘You were lucky though.’

  ‘That’s me,’ said Edith confidently. ‘Look, I’ll leave you to sleep.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know about your patient, the postman?’ Alice wondered.

  ‘Tell me tomorrow. Night night.’ Edith slipped out of the room as quietly as she’d come in.

  Alice was left to try to get back to sleep, noting that Edith hadn’t asked what sort of evening she’d had. But then, she hadn’t tried to tell her. Maybe she should have mentioned meeting Joe, and his offer to find her the book. Then again, perhaps she’d keep that to herself for the time being. It was hardly the same thing. And she couldn’t quite explain the sensation that thinking of him gave her – no longer anger, or righteous indignation, but something not quite describable either.