Wartime for the District Nurses Page 8

  Edith sighed but made herself finish the tea and the last bite of the teacake. She would not let his familiar viciousness get under her skin. In truth, she had expected little else from him, and in one way it was good to have her suspicions confirmed. He was trying to con her out of her hard-earned money, just like the old days, but now he thought she’d be a softer touch. Well, he’d picked on the wrong person. She knew his ways and had no intention of falling for them.

  Taking some coins from her purse and leaving them for the waitress, she rose with dignity and steadily made her way to the door. It was only when she had reached the outside and the cooler air hit her that she felt a pang. Why did her family have to be so difficult? Did they really still blame her for Teresa’s death, or would they have been like this anyway? There was no way of telling.

  Edith exhaled sharply. All right, so her family weren’t much of a comfort, but she knew one that was – and one that had made her welcome. Suddenly she knew she had to be back in that room she thought of as the source of all comfort and safety. She would go to visit the Banhams – at least she knew she would always have the warmest of welcomes there.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mattie had been hanging out the washing when she’d first sensed something wasn’t right. It was never her favourite chore, but she knew her mother found it increasingly difficult to carry the heavy tub into the back yard, hoick up the line and prop it up with the weathered old pole, and then lift the dripping clothes and bedding into place and nip the pegs into position before the items could slip off again. Flo’s hands were beginning to swell with arthritis, much as she tried to hide it. Mattie had seen her wince as she twisted the sheets to squeeze out the water.

  She wanted to save her mother the bother, and also to save her face; now she was a mother herself she recognised how Flo had to maintain the front of being the one in charge, capable of anything. In most respects that was exactly what she still was – but age was starting to creep up, and stiffen her poor hands.

  Mattie gritted her teeth as she balanced the laundry tub to one side of her sizeable bump. The sun was out and it had seemed a good idea to wash the sheets, a brisk breeze promising to dry them quickly. Now she was faced with manoeuvring the unwieldy armfuls of cotton onto the frayed old line. Usually it was easy, but now her bump kept getting in the way; she couldn’t bend properly, she had to twist, and that pulled on her back muscles which were already sore from lifting Gillian out of harm’s way scores of times a day. Gritting her teeth harder still, she flung the sheets over the line, tugging at them until they hung properly, by which time she was covered in water. Suddenly it all seemed too much. A wave of sadness came over her from nowhere, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down and put her head in her hands. At the same time, she recognised that this was not like her at all. Anyway, there was no helping it – the washing was not going to peg itself out. She simply had to get on with it.

  When she heard someone knocking on the front door she wondered if this would be her excuse to take a break, but then came the sound of her mother’s voice greeting the visitor. She sighed as she hung up the last few items, Gillian’s small smocked dresses and her own well-worn pale blue blouse. The sight of it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Lennie had loved her in that. She took a deep breath. No point in thinking about that now. Wincing as she bent to pick up the basket and peg bag to stack them by the side fence, she realised she had to run to the outside privy, and never mind who had come to visit.

  ‘Come through, come through to the kitchen.’ Flo beamed in delight as Edith stepped inside the hallway. ‘I was just going to put on the kettle. You’ll have a cup of tea, won’t you? Or is it too hot?’

  Edith was wilting from the warmth of the crowded bus back from the city centre. Everyone on it had been chattering about what was going on over the south coast, the brave RAF lads tackling the Luftwaffe, but it had only served to underline her sadness that her own brave hero was no longer there to comfort her. ‘I’d love some water. I’ll get it, you sit down.’

  Flo pretended to be affronted. ‘I’ve not got to the stage where a guest in my house has to fetch their own drink,’ she admonished. ‘I can see you’re in need of something cool. Sit yourself there by the window and catch the breeze. Now, that’s better.’ She set a heavy glass tumbler down at Edith’s elbow.

  Edith took a long draught and almost groaned in relief. ‘That’s just what I needed. Those buses are busy today. Whatever was I thinking of?’

  ‘Never mind, you’re here now,’ said Flo, ‘and very welcome you are too. I’m pleased you dropped by. It seems like ages since we last saw you. You aren’t staying away, are you? Not afraid we’ll make you think of Harry?’

  Edith felt a pang that Flo might even have imagined such a thing. ‘No, no. Not a bit. I’ve been run off my feet with work, I’ve hardly had a moment to call my own.’ Except for two trips to the pub, the voice of her conscience whispered.

  Flo nodded. ‘That’s only to be expected. In a job like yours, you’ll always have to put the patients first. We understand.’

  Edith smiled gratefully. ‘It’s only what everyone else is doing too.’

  Flo grinned conspiratorially. ‘Well, I’ll tell you something. Stan has been so flat out – what with working all day and then going on his ARP rounds – that he’s in bed at this very minute! Catching up on his sleep, he is, and in all our years of married life I’ve never known him to do such a thing. But take the chance while you can, I told him. You can’t burn the candle at both ends any more, not at your age.’

  Edith’s eyebrows rose in surprise. To her, Stan was indefatigable. Then she found she was quite envious. ‘It sounds like a good idea.’ Sleeping late was unheard of at the nurses’ home. Even if she’d wanted to skip breakfast, the noise of her colleagues starting their days would have roused her. She knew that was not the real reason she felt tired, though; it had been the emotion of the day so far, foolishly allowing herself to hope her brother had changed and that familiar sinking feeling when she realised he hadn’t.

  Yet now she had the chance to unburden herself to Flo, a rare moment of quiet in the usually busy kitchen. She took a deep breath and explained how she had set off that morning and how adrift she had felt.

  Flo’s open, kind face betrayed its sadness at the very idea a brother could treat a sister so badly. ‘You poor thing,’ she said with heartfelt sorrow. ‘And him your own flesh and blood. I’d be ashamed if Joe said anything like that to Mattie. Or vice versa. I know they tease each other – well, they all did.’ Edith nodded in acknowledgment as she knew full well that Mattie and Harry had bickered non-stop and then would immediately make up again. ‘But that’s not the same. You need to know you can count on your family. That’s what they’re for.’

  Edith gave a short laugh. ‘Well, I can count on mine – to be unreliable. Works every time.’ She finished her water. ‘It isn’t as if I really expected anything different. It’s what they’re like.’

  Flo reached across and gave her a quick hug. ‘I wish it was different,’ she said. ‘You’ve got us, though. Even without Harry, you’re still family to us now. You can come to us with anything, we won’t turn you away.’

  Edith smiled in gratitude. ‘I know. I’m very lucky.’ Suddenly she felt better again, more like her old self. She had found somewhere to belong. All right, it wasn’t how she’d imagined it when Harry was with them, but here was proof that they accepted her for herself, not simply as his girlfriend.

  ‘Harry was lucky,’ Flo told her, ‘and therefore we all were. Now, come and see what I bought down the market the other … good heavens, Mattie, whatever is wrong?’

  Mattie stood in the doorway to the back kitchen, all colour drained from her face. ‘Ma … Edith, thank God it’s you. Something’s not right.’ Her normally wild hair was plastered to her head and she was sweating. ‘I came over all strange and … and … I went to the privy and there was blood. From … You know.’ A sob escaped her.


  Edith instantly sprang into action. ‘You come over to the couch, Mattie, and raise your feet, that’s it. Now lie still and try to keep calm. I’ll take your pulse and see if you have a temperature, but I must wait until you’re steadier. What were you doing before?’

  ‘Putting out the washing,’ Mattie gulped, trying to keep a lid on her fear of what this might mean. She could not lose Lennie’s baby. It would break her heart, and she could not even begin to imagine what she would write to him. It was the hope of seeing this new life that was keeping him going in his prison camp.

  ‘No wonder you’re hot,’ Edith said.

  Flo grimaced. She regretted allowing Mattie to take on the heavy task at such a late stage in her pregnancy, but her daughter had insisted. She would never forgive herself if anything were to happen now. Yet good sense told her not to panic, that this might be nothing.

  Edith rose and fetched another glass of water. ‘Here, drink this.’ She knew that her friend’s mind would be racing with the most horrible thoughts and that her first job was to cool her down. ‘Take little sips, not all at once. There, that’s better. Now give me your arm.’ Swiftly she brought her fingers to the pulse in the wrist. She had none of her usual equipment with her and would have to improvise, but this was better than nothing. Shutting her eyes she willed herself not to panic but just to observe, as she would do for any patient.

  Nodding, she set Mattie’s arm back onto the cushion. ‘Absolutely normal.’ She rested her own hand on Mattie’s forehead. ‘And there’s no worrying temperature that I can see, nothing that wouldn’t be caused by working in the garden on a hot day.’ All the while she had been watching her friend’s breathing, noting that it too was normal, allowing for her panic. ‘Right, so how much blood, Mattie? And was it all just now or has there been anything before?’

  Mattie screwed up her eyes. ‘No, it was only right now. And there wasn’t a lot … it’s just that I wasn’t expecting anything … I must be all right, Edie, the baby has to be all right.’ She turned pleading eyes to her friend. ‘You know why.’

  Edith nodded. ‘Of course.’ She took a breath. ‘Mattie, this will sound easy for me to say, but try not to worry. Honestly. This sort of thing happens all the time.’

  Mattie sniffed. ‘It didn’t with Gillian.’

  Edith acknowledged the problem. ‘No, maybe not. But in plenty of pregnancies, all the same.’

  Flo stirred from her kitchen chair. ‘It’s true, love. I had a bit of it when I was carrying – now, which one of you was it? It didn’t come to anything.’

  Mattie looked a little more reassured.

  Edith took a decision. ‘I think it’s best if you take it easy for the rest of the day, and don’t do anything like heavy work. I can pop over to Dr Patcham to see if he can call in, as he’s so close by. I’d put money on him advising the same thing, though. You have no other symptoms – you have no pain anywhere, do you?’

  Mattie shook her head.

  ‘Well, then. As long as there’s nothing else I reckon you’ll be fine. It’s just a little scare.’

  Mattie raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll say. A big scare, if you ask me.’ But she smiled. The calm reassurance was working its wonders.

  Edith got up. ‘I’ll go to see him now. Then I’ll come back again, if you like.’

  Mattie nodded. ‘You’d better. We haven’t even had a moment to chat.’

  Flo walked Edith to the front door. ‘Will she really be all right?’ she asked in a low voice.

  Edith pursed her lips. ‘I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen this many times. Well, you know yourself. One moment it can feel like a disaster about to happen, the next you’re right as rain again. The odds are that this will pass and both Mattie and the baby will pull through with no problems at all.’

  Flo exhaled slowly. ‘I hope so, for all our sakes. Somehow this baby is all the more special what with Lennie being held prisoner.’ She stood up straight and put back her shoulders. ‘Right, you tell Dr Patcham I’ll have some of my cheese scones ready for him if he would care to drop round. And there’ll be some for you too, of course.’

  Edith beamed at the mouth-watering thought. ‘Then I’ll hurry back. And don’t either of you dare try to take in the washing. I’m staying until it’s dry and then that will be my job.’

  Belinda twisted her dark, tightly curled hair into a rough plait and shoved it under her nurse’s cap as best she could. This was not a good moment for it to come undone – she needed to keep both hands free. She just hoped it would stay put long enough before help arrived.

  The day shift had been busier than the usual Monday for some reason. In addition to the regular patients, there were always some casualties left over from the weekend. Sometimes it was adults who had been overdoing it on the day of rest and who wanted an excuse not to turn up for work at the start of the week. None of the local doctors or nurses had much sympathy for those cases, and they generally got short shrift. Then there were the older patients who didn’t want to be a nuisance over the weekend. ‘I was sure I’d be all right by Monday,’ they would say, when they could have done with a proper medical visit on Saturday morning. It was hard to be stern with such people, but it did mean a lot of extra work when it happened.

  Then there were the children. Plenty of parents suspected – often rightly – that their offspring developed mysterious illnesses overnight on Sundays in order to avoid school the next morning during term time. These were normally easy to diagnose. Belinda had begun to carry an impressive-looking medicine bottle filled with coloured water, and would administer a dose of two spoonfuls that was guaranteed to get any malingerers on their feet. The children felt they had been taken seriously and the mothers were grateful for somebody else sorting out the situation in a way that caused no harm to anybody – except for using up precious time.

  Today, though, there had been a late call for a nurse to come to an accident, just when most of them had thought their day’s work was over. A child had fallen from a height onto something sharp – that was all the information they had been given. Often Edith would be the first to volunteer, but Belinda knew she’d had a busy weekend of it, unofficially nursing her friend through what luckily turned out not to be a miscarriage after all. Still, it hardly seemed fair that she should have to turn around immediately after tea and go out again. So Belinda had said she’d go.

  Now she sat in a cramped back yard, careful to avoid the pieces of broken glass all around. She shook her head at her young patient. ‘Don’t try to move, Percy,’ she instructed, trying to be authoritative but sympathetic. ‘It will hurt more if you do.’

  ‘It hurts now!’ wailed the little boy. He could not have been more than ten, and his earlier bravado had all gone. Now he was frightened, as well he might be.

  ‘I know, but it could have been so much worse,’ Belinda said, giving him a steady smile. ‘It won’t seem like it, but you’re actually very lucky. You’ve hurt your leg but it will mend.’ She hoped she was right. The boy had leapt off a pile of boxes in the yard, landed badly and crashed back into the pile – which turned out to have contained glass jars of some corrosive substance. It was very obviously a black-market operation. Percy had told her this wasn’t where he lived, but he’d seen the pile of boxes from his bedroom window and thought they looked like a good thing to climb on. He wouldn’t say whose yard it was. ‘I don’t know nothing,’ he’d repeated, before the pain in his leg had rendered him silent.

  At least he’d avoided falling in the worst of the evil-smelling liquid, merely splashing himself a little, but that was bad enough. Belinda had made him as comfortable as she could, cleaning the injuries with plenty of cold water – she hadn’t wanted to use anything else in case it reacted to the acid, or whatever it was. It was strong enough to burn holes in the boy’s jacket, so she’d made him take it off and it lay ruined in one corner. Now they were waiting for an ambulance, as she couldn’t move him on her own. His leg had to be kept straight so that any broken b
ones would set properly, and she had strapped it to his other leg as a makeshift split. She dared not try to reach for anything else; she wasn’t sure what had been splashed by the acid. She could see a puddle of the stuff advancing across the concrete towards them. Where was that ambulance? She didn’t want to end up sitting in a pool of acid but she didn’t want to move the boy either. She dug her nails into her palms as the shiny liquid moved closer, careful to position her body to shield it from Percy’s gaze.

  Was acid flammable? Belinda couldn’t remember. What if somebody walked by and lit a cigarette, throwing the match over the wall, unaware of what was happening? Would they both go up in flames? The other jars might catch fire and explode, and she wouldn’t be able to get Percy to safety in time …

  Firmly she told herself to get a grip and stop thinking the worst. The ambulance was on its way; there were all sorts of reasons it might have been held up, but it would come. She just had to sit it out. ‘Not long now,’ she said brightly to Percy, who was hanging on her every word. ‘You’ll look back at this and laugh one day. You can tell your children how you escaped getting cut to ribbons by the skin of your teeth.’

  ‘I ain’t having any, miss,’ said Percy. ‘My little brothers and sisters are proper little bleeders, I don’t want none like that.’

  ‘You might change your mind when you grow up,’ Belinda suggested, wondering how he’d made his mind up so definitely at such a young age. But before she could ask him about it any further, there was a welcome cry of ‘Anyone in there? Nurse, can you hear us?’

  Through the rusty back gate came two figures, one in the ambulance service uniform and the other in ARP colours, which she could just make out in the now-fading light.

  ‘In here!’ She waved so they could see her in the shadow of the tall wall. ‘Mind that liquid! We don’t know what it is but it doesn’t smell very nice.’

  ‘Proper stinks, miss,’ added Percy, who had perked up considerably now that help was at hand.