by Ellie Dean
Doctor Sayer entered the kitchen a few minutes later and dumped his medical bag on the table. Accepting a cup of tea from Peggy, he took a slurp and then regarded them all with a beaming smile before he turned to Danuta.
‘I understand from Kitty that you’re a trained nurse?’ At her hesitant nod, he continued, ‘Where did you learn, and how long has it been since you’ve practised?’
Danuta hid her damaged fingers in her dress pocket. ‘I trained in Warsaw, and worked in the main hospital there until I came to England,’ she said cautiously.
He drained his teacup. ‘Well, it seems you haven’t forgotten how to deliver a baby. Was that your speciality?’
Danuta shook her head, uncertain where these questions were leading. ‘I was theatre nurse.’
His bushy white eyebrows shot up. ‘Were you now? So why aren’t you working as such when the hospitals are crying out for nurses?’
Danuta fidgeted, all too aware of being the centre of attention. ‘I was injured in bomb attack in London and have only just been released from the Memorial.’
He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You certainly look as if you need a few square meals and a dose of sunshine – but the Memorial wouldn’t have discharged you if you weren’t fully recovered.’ He brushed a finger over his moustache. ‘Do you have any paperwork from your time in Poland to show your qualification?’
‘Everything was destroyed when the Germans came,’ she said flatly.
‘That’s a great shame,’ he muttered. ‘I could have done with another district nurse and midwife. Poor Mrs Higgins can barely manage now, and when the men start coming home she’ll be snowed under.’
Danuta felt a spark of hope that extinguished the previous doubts. ‘I could perhaps get a letter from my employer in London to confirm my qualifications,’ she suggested carefully.
‘And who was that?’
‘A military hospital for injured servicemen.’ She bit her lip. ‘But it may take some time to receive a reply. They are very busy.’
Doctor Sayer stroked his beard. ‘If you can get that letter, come to my surgery and we’ll talk some more,’ he said. ‘I can’t offer you work in theatre, but you’d be a godsend out in the district.’ He smiled at her. ‘If you decide to accept my offer, I’ll lend you my textbooks so you can brush up on midwifery, and Mrs Higgins will bring you up to date should you need it.’
Danuta experienced a sudden rush of nervous hope. ‘I will write to them tonight.’
Peggy didn’t quite know how she’d manage that as the London hospital was purely fictional, but she set that minor difficulty aside as the ambulance arrived. With little fuss, Kitty and Faith were carried out on a stretcher. Doctor Sayer climbed into his car to follow them, and with calls of good luck and promises to visit as soon as possible, they all stood on the front step to watch her being driven away.
‘Right,’ said Peggy. ‘We’d better get Doris’s room sorted before she gets back. The last thing we need today is ructions.’
‘We’ll do it,’ said Fran and Rita in unison. ‘Go and sit in the garden,’ ordered Fran. ‘You’ve done enough today.’
Peggy looked at her watch. She had another hour before she was supposed to be at the Red Cross centre – and that reminded her, she’d yet to tell Charlotte about baby Faith, and Kitty would need the layette taken into the hospital. She lit a cigarette, then dialled the number for Briar Cottage.
Having made sure Charlotte was all right and was fully informed about Kitty’s baby and the heroic part Danuta had played in her arrival, Peggy consoled her over her news about Freddy, and agreed that he was better off there than taking to the skies over Europe. She ended the call and went to find Danuta.
She found her sitting at her dressing table, and softly closed the door behind her before settling on the edge of the bed. ‘You did very well today, dear,’ she began, ‘and I’m delighted old Doctor Sayer was so impressed that he offered you a job. But we both know you weren’t nursing in London, so how can you possibly obtain references?’
Danuta met her gaze in the dressing-table mirror. ‘There is someone who will write it for me,’ she said. She turned and reached for Peggy’s hands. ‘No more questions, please. I cannot answer them.’
Peggy slowly nodded. ‘I understand,’ she murmured. ‘But are you sure it isn’t too soon for you to take on such a responsibility? Mrs Higgins has to work very hard with such a large community to cover now.’
‘Then it will be good to help ease her work. But I have a lot of catching up to do before then. My midwifery course was long ago, and it’s very important I don’t make mistakes.’
‘Doctor Sayer will lend you the textbooks, and I’m sure Fran will test you on things. She’s very good like that, and is keen for you to go back to nursing.’ Peggy grinned. ‘She remembers you working with the first-aiders and ambulance crews, and knows that when you set your mind to something, you see it through.’
Danuta grinned back. ‘It is a new day and a new start, Mamma Peggy, and I will do my very best to make you proud of me.’
Peggy’s soft heart melted and she embraced her. ‘Oh, Danuta, I’m already so proud of you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.’
18
Ron was serving behind the bar when Rita dashed in to tell him breathlessly about Kitty’s baby, Danuta’s part in her arrival and Doctor Sayer’s job offer. Before he could say anything, Rosie was pumping the girl about what the baby looked like, what it weighed and how soon could she visit.
He gave up trying to keep track of it all and carried on serving the customers with a beaming smile. He quite liked babies, even though they mostly resembled Churchill at first, but with Kitty being such a special young woman, her baby was sure to be a little beauty. He gave a happy sigh as he continued to pull pints.
It had turned out to be quite a red-letter day all round, for Rosie had become more frisky of late and was weakening to the idea of accepting his engagement ring. As a special treat, he’d managed to get tickets for the posh fundraising ball at the Town Hall tonight, and Rosie was definitely showing signs that she was impressed with his efforts. As long as he didn’t blot his copybook, he might well be on a promise later.
And yet behind his rosy glow there lurked the niggling worry over Danuta. She’d shown what she was made of today, but was she ready to be thrust back into the hectic life of a nurse-midwife? The town’s population had grown considerably over the past four years, and with so many servicemen having been around until recently, there were lots of young women in the family way. He knew that Florence Higgins had her work cut out, and another pair of hands would be a blessing, but was Danuta strong enough physically to take on such a task?
Ron cleared some of the dirty glasses and wiped down the polished wooden counter. Only time would tell, he supposed, and Danuta was old enough to make her own decisions.
‘You’re looking very thoughtful, Ron,’ said Rosie cheerfully as she gave his bottom a friendly slap. ‘Not having second thoughts about taking me dancing tonight, are you?’
He put his arm about her waist and gave it a squeeze. ‘Definitely not,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘I can’t wait to see you all dressed up and looking like a Hollywood glamour puss.’
She giggled. ‘It’ll take me a while to get ready, so once the pub’s closed, you’d better go home and prepare yourself to be dazzled.’
‘I’m always dazzled,’ he replied truthfully. ‘I’ll not let you down, Rosie girl, and will be so smart you’ll hardly recognise me.’
‘That’d be an improvement on what you’re wearing today,’ she admonished gently.
He glanced down at his old shirt and baggy trousers. ‘Aye, well, I left the house with the dogs and haven’t been back since – which turns out to be a good thing. What with babies being born and chairlifts fitted, it must have been chaos.’
‘I’m sure it was,’ she agreed with laughter in her blue eyes. ‘And like the old rogue you are, you managed to avoid it all.’ With a
light chuckle she went to serve a waiting customer.
An hour later, Ron left the Anchor and ambled down a quiet Camden Road. It was Saturday and therefore half-day closing, so there were no queues cluttering up the pavement, and the shopkeepers had tidied away their outdoor displays.
Harvey watered the lampposts along the way and went to inspect the newest bomb site for different smells, only to startle a sleeping ginger cat which hissed at him and took flight. Harvey went in hot pursuit, charging down the hill towards the seafront.
Ron stood on the corner and watched in amusement as he filled his pipe. The cat scampered up a telegraph pole and jumped with lithe grace onto the top of a high wall, well out of the way of Harvey, who was bouncing about in fury and barking fit to burst. Ron grinned as the cat regarded the dog with disdain and settled down to lick his paws and wash his whiskers.
Ron decided he’d seen enough. The cat was an old adversary of Harvey’s, wily enough to know he was safe as long as he was on that wall. In fact he had been known to sit there for hours deliberately irritating every passing dog, and Harvey had as much chance of getting to him as Ron had of flying to the moon. He puffed contentedly on his pipe and went home, knowing that Harvey would follow him once he realised he was on a fool’s errand.
Much to his relief, he discovered there was no one in the kitchen or the garden, so he decided to stretch out in a deckchair and relax until he had to start getting ready for this evening. It was an expensive business, this wooing, what with new clothes, afternoon tea at the Officers’ Club and tickets for do’s at the Town Hall – and he suspected Rosie wouldn’t let up on him after they were married, either. But the thought of making her his own at last was enough for him. She was worth every last penny.
He woke when a shadow fell over him, and he blearily looked up to find Danuta standing there. ‘I hear you were the heroine of the hour,’ he muttered, trying to gather himself.
Danuta shrugged and sat in the chair beside him. ‘I’m guessing Rita told you about the doctor’s offer.’ At his nod, she bit her lip. ‘I have written to Dolly, asking her advice on what to do. But I would like to nurse again – to do something healing after …’
‘I’m sure Dolly will encourage you and provide any letter you might need,’ he said. ‘She certainly won’t stand in your way of making a new life for yourself here.’ He regarded her keenly. ‘How do you really feel about diving in at the deep end so soon?’
‘A little nervous,’ she admitted, then grinned back at him. ‘But I am a good swimmer. I will not sink.’
Ron had no doubt of that. He nodded and then looked at his watch. ‘Holy Mary and all the saints, is that the time?’ he gasped. ‘Rosie will have me guts for garters if I’m late.’ He scrambled out of the deckchair looking around wildly. ‘Where’s Harvey?’
‘I haven’t seen him.’
Ron swore under his breath and hurried down to the road. The cat had gone from the wall and there was no sign of his dog. ‘Harvey!’ he yelled. ‘Harvey, come here at once!’
There was no answering bark, and Ron dithered. He had less than an hour to get bathed, shaved and dressed for tonight, and Harvey could be anywhere. ‘Ach, ye heathen beast,’ he growled. ‘Trust you to disappear just at the wrong time.’
Setting off at a fast pace, Ron headed towards the seafront, calling repeatedly and straining to hear any answering bark. It was unusual for his dog not to come home, especially since the vet had put a stop to his pursuit of bitches in heat. He must have been distracted by something – or was in trouble.
Ron’s calls became more frantic as he searched through the rubble of the seafront hotels and then headed back up the hill. He whistled down alleyways and called over walls, but was met with only silence and some startled looks from passers-by who assured him they hadn’t seen a large scruffy dog on their travels.
He had searched everywhere he could think of and now stood at the end of the twitten leading to Beach View and the path to the hills. ‘Harvey! Harvey!’ he yelled, following it up with a series of sharp whistles. He was about to head for the hills as a last resort when he heard a faint answering bark and froze. ‘Harvey? Where are you?’
The bark came again, but it was very muffled. Ron moved slowly towards it, urging his dog to keep on barking so he could find him. The sound seemed to be coming from the next street, and as he approached the bombed-out house directly behind Beach View, the barking became a little clearer. He stood where the front wall used to be and scanned the pile of rubble. ‘Harvey? Where are you, boy?’
Harvey replied with a yelp and a whine, and Ron was immediately clambering through the shifting, broken mess towards it. ‘It’s all right, boy, I’m on me way,’ he called, his heart thudding painfully as he heard his old pal’s pitiful whines.
He began to move charred rafters and singed drainpipes, tossing aside bricks and roof slates, delving into the depths of what remained of the ruined house, fearful that Harvey might have chased something into the buried cellar and become stuck as the debris shifted.
He moved a shattered door and saw Harvey’s nose poking up through a hole. He moved faster, realising he’d been right about the cellar. ‘Don’t move,’ he ordered sternly, wary now of the debris shifting and falling on the animal. ‘Ach, ye’ve got yerself into a fine old mess, haven’t ye, yer daft wee beast,’ he muttered, carefully moving away the shattered tiles and broken door panels from around his dog.
He lay on his stomach as Harvey’s ears and eyes appeared, and with some difficulty, managed to grab hold of his collar. ‘It’s all right,’ he soothed as Harvey whined and looked at him piteously. ‘I’ve got you now.’
He cleared more rubble away, and gave a tentative tug on the collar. He could feel Harvey straining to get some purchase with his paws, his muscles bunched with the effort – but he was stuck fast and now beginning to whimper in pain and panic.
‘I will help,’ said Danuta, lying down beside Ron.
‘We’ll need to clear a bigger area,’ he said. ‘You hold onto his collar and try to keep him calm whilst I get rid of this lot.’
As Danuta tried to soothe the dog, Ron worked with a will to free him. Slates and bits of guttering kept sliding and shifting, and he was terrified that whatever was holding Harvey in place might come loose and send him plunging into the cellar.
‘I have hold on him very tight,’ said Danuta, ‘but he is tiring, his weight taking him down.’
Ron worked faster to clear the area around Harvey, and then began the task of trying to make the hole bigger. He kept up a continuous soothing chatter as Danuta stroked Harvey’s head and kept hold of his collar.
‘Let’s try again,’ he said, taking charge of the collar. Gently but firmly drawing it towards him, Harvey’s head came through the hole, his paws scrabbling for purchase on the slippery slates and sharp bits of concrete.
Ron knew that the next few seconds were vital, for Harvey’s whole weight was on that collar and it was in danger of throttling him. ‘Take the collar and don’t let go,’ he commanded Danuta before reaching down through the hole to grasp Harvey beneath his front paws.
Harvey yelped and snapped his teeth as Ron fought to drag him out. ‘I’m sorry, wee man, I know this must hurt, but you’ve got to be brave, Harvey.’
Harvey’s eyes were beseeching, the little whines in his throat telling of his pain and fear as Ron delved deeper, managed to clutch the dog’s rear end and slowly hoist him up and out of the hole. His heart was hammering, his arms trembling from the effort, and as Harvey emerged finally, he gathered him to his chest.
Harvey was exhausted, his head drooping as he panted, and when Ron ran a gentle probing hand over him to see where he was injured, he screamed in pain.
Ron gasped as he saw the bloody, jagged slash in his dog’s side. ‘Run home and telephone the vet,’ he rasped. ‘His number’s by the telephone.’
As Danuta dashed off, Ron tenderly carried his injured Harvey home, his face streaked with tears, his hea
rt heavy with dread.
Rosie had put scented salts into her bath and then rubbed in some of the expensive skin lotion she’d been keeping for a special occasion into her arms and neck. She’d been to the hairdresser’s for a shampoo and set straight after closing time, and as she carefully made up her face, she felt a thrill of excitement. She’d never been to a ball before, and it was rumoured that everyone who was anyone would be there tonight, including the Mayor and his wife. A very good ten-piece band had been hired to play after dinner, and as Ron was an excellent dancer, she could hardly wait to be whisked around the floor.
She slipped on the long, pale gold dress she’d bought before the war and never had a chance to wear. The cut of the silk enhanced her curves, and at the back, the neckline dipped in a soft cowl almost to the small of her back – which was quite daring – and would no doubt get Ron all hot and bothered. But that was all right, she thought with a giggle. She had plans for Ron when they got back tonight.
She smoothed on the sheer nylon stockings which had come courtesy of one of her American customers, and slipped her feet into gold sandals. With a pretty ribbon tied in her platinum curls, she added sparkling earrings and long evening gloves. Eyeing her reflection in the pier glass, she hooked the fox fur over one shoulder and grinned. If Ron wasn’t dazzled by her tonight, he never would be.
She went into the sitting room and poured out a gin and tonic, glancing at the mantel clock as she took a sip. Ron had promised to fetch her promptly at seven, so they’d have time for a quick drink before they walked to the Town Hall for dinner at eight, but he was cutting it a bit fine.
She was aware of Monty’s eyes following her as she paced the room and then went to look out of the window. It was still light and people had come out of their houses to stroll in the warm evening air, meet friends and visit the pub – but there was no sign of Ron.
Rosie lit a cigarette, determined not to get het up over Ron. He’d promised to be here, and the price of those tickets surely guaranteed he’d turn up – even so, he was now ten minutes late. She tuned in to the chatter and laughter coming from the bar downstairs. It sounded as if it was getting busy, but she had no fears that things wouldn’t run like clockwork in Brenda’s capable hands. Brenda was her most reliable barmaid, and she’d see to it that Flo, who was a bit scatty, didn’t spend too much time gossiping when she should be pulling pints.
