Home Fires and Spitfires

by Daisy Styles

  Alf gave her an embarrassed look. ‘Sorry, Sister,’ he apologized. ‘He won’t want to be seen waiting with the lasses; he’s proper embarrassed of his looks these days.’

  Ada gave an understanding nod. ‘I understand, Alf,’ she said. ‘Tell him to come after eleven o’clock – the doctor will have seen the residents by then and he’ll be able to give Frank a bit of private time.’

  Alf looked like a weight had been rolled off his shoulders. ‘That’s right kind of you, Sister,’ he said, as he put the weather-beaten cap he had doffed back on his head. ‘We’ll see you a bit after eleven tomorrow, then.’

  The following morning Zelda, who’d been the last patient on the list to see Dr Reid, got the shock of her life when she walked slap-bang into the man she was determined to avoid. Leaving the surgery, lost in her own thoughts, she cannoned straight into tall, dark, scowling Frank, who was accompanied by his father.

  ‘Oh, mein Gott!’ she had cried out in alarm.

  Gasping, Zelda clutched her very large tummy, which had taken the brunt of the impact. Feeling Frank’s brooding dark eye burning into her, Zelda turned to go, but Farmer Arkwright stopped her. ‘Are you all right, lassie? Did you hurt yerself?’ he asked in a concerned voice.

  Desperate to get away, Zelda shook her head, still clutching her tummy, and all but ran up the corridor, leaving glowering Frank staring after her retreating figure.

  ‘She just spoke German,’ he muttered.

  ‘She is German, lad,’ his father told him.

  ‘What the hell is she doing here?’ Frank snapped.

  ‘Waiting for her baby to be born like all t’other lasses in the Home,’ Alf patiently explained.

  ‘Why didn’t she stay in her own damned country to give birth?’

  Alf came closer to his son in order to whisper, ‘Because the Nazis shot her husband and then they came after her – she’s a Jew.’

  Frank took a step back from his father. ‘A Jew?’

  Alf nodded. ‘The Mary Vale nuns took Zelda in – she pays her way, mind, and she grows fruit and veg for the Home.’ He smiled fondly before adding, ‘She’s a brave little lass.’

  Frank remained unimpressed. ‘I thought I’d seen the back of Germans when I got discharged.’

  Alf gave him a hard stare. ‘We’re talking about a woman on her own, Frank. On paper she might be the enemy; here at Mary Vale she’s just Zelda. Leave her be, lad, or you’ll have me to answer to.’

  After examining Frank’s wounds James assured him that he would do what he could.

  ‘I’m more than happy to take care of you, though I’m not a burns specialist.’

  As Jamie and Ada treated the livid raw scar tissue on Frank’s face, Jamie asked his patient how the attack had happened.

  ‘We were in a Sherman tank in northern France, being chased by the Hun – everything suddenly went quiet and my senior officer instructed me to open the hatch and take a look outside. When I did a sniper shot me in the head – the bullet went through my right eye and out the other side,’ he said grimly.

  ‘My God!’ Ada gasped. ‘It’s a wonder you survived at all.’

  Farmer Arkwright, who had stayed with his son throughout the examination, nodded. ‘Nothing short of a blessed miracle.’

  ‘Believe it or not I was lucky,’ Frank continued. ‘The enemy lobbed a grenade into the Sherman, which exploded into flames. I was thrown clear but all my mates in the tank were blown to smithereens. I landed in a ditch where I lay semi-conscious, half dead, in fact, until a French peasant woman found me and helped me to hide in a barn.’

  Sensing that his question about the attack might have sent his patient’s heart rate sky-high, Jamie brought the conversation back to the ordinary by asking Frank how he spent his time now that he was back home.

  ‘I try to do some work on the farm,’ Frank replied. ‘But I miscalculate distances and walk into the furniture all the time – it drives me mad,’ he confessed.

  ‘I tell him not to fret himself,’ Arkwright protested. ‘It will get easier.’

  Ada, who was feeling increasingly sorry for Frank, suggested a course of physiotherapy. ‘I’m sure Dora and I can spare a few hours a week to help you,’ she volunteered.

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ Frank immediately replied.

  After he finished cleaning and bandaging his patient’s wound, Jamie said, ‘I’ll need to see you regularly to replace the dressing – we need to keep it fresh and clean to prevent infection.’

  ‘I’m grateful for your help, Doctor, and yours too, Sister Dale,’ Frank replied. ‘See you next week.’

  A combination of Jamie’s treatment and regular bouts of physiotherapy slowly helped Frank to improve over the next few weeks. Without fail he regularly attended his appointments and worked hard alongside Ada or Dora, practising his walking, improving his balance and working muscles that had become weak due to protracted bedrest. The curious female residents talked about him over their meals in the dining room.

  ‘I bet he were a right bonny before he copped it,’ one girl said.

  ‘He’s got lovely dark hair,’ another girl enthused.

  Sister Mary Paul, who was clearing away the dirty dishes, clucked her tongue in disapproval. ‘Leave the lad be,’ she chided. ‘He’s got enough on his plate right now; the last thing he needs is lots of girls fussing over him.’

  ‘You’re right, Sister,’ one of the girls agreed. ‘Anyway, who in their right mind would ever fancy a seven-month pregnant woman with swollen ankles and varicose veins?’

  Gracie protested loudly. ‘You can be bonny and pregnant!’ she declared. ‘As soon as I’ve had this baby I’m determined to get back to my original weight, seven and a half stone; then I’ll start back at the shipyard and build warships to beat the bloody Germans!’ she announced with passionate determination.

  Zelda’s face fell as she listened to Gracie. Did Gracie and Frank and the rest of the world want to kill her mother, sister, brother, aunt, uncle? She could not blame them, but neither could she live with the thought of always being the enemy. Catching sight of Zelda’s flushed, embarrassed face, Gracie clutched at her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ she murmured guiltily. ‘You know that I don’t mean you.’

  Saying nothing of her real feelings, Zelda squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, Gracie,’ she lied. ‘I understand.’

  16. Leave

  A few days later Dora came hurrying into work with an excited smile on her flushed face. ‘You’ll never guess,’ she declared, as she took hold of Ada around the waist, then started to dance her down the ante-natal ward, where Shirley was busy helping out with the morning tea-round. ‘Our Jack’s coming home on leave; he’ll be with us for his twenty-first birthday.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news!’ Ada laughed, truly happy for her friend, when Dora finally let go of her. ‘You’ll have to have a party to celebrate his birthday.’

  Dora’s smile was suddenly tinged with sadness. ‘It’ll be our Percy’s birthday too,’ she added wistfully.

  Hoping to keep Dora’s mood up beat, Shirley said shyly, ‘It will be very nice to meet one of your boys.’

  Dora’s expression visibly brightened as she beamed at Shirley. ‘I just can’t wait to introduce him to all my friends.’

  When Jack visited Mary Vale, there was no doubting whose son he was. Unlike Dora, who was small and squat, Jack was tall and broad, but he had his mother’s laughing eyes and her big wide-open smile. Sister Mary Paul bustled them into the dining room, where she’d laid on a special tea for Jack and the staff. The sight of lettuce and meat-paste sandwiches plus coconut cake and jelly and cream brought a grin to the young man’s face.

  ‘I’ve not seen grub as fine as this in months,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s a sight for sore eyes.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re starving,’ Matron said, as she set Jack, the guest of honour, at the top of the table and loaded his plate with cake and sandwiches.

  ‘Save a bit of sp
ace for some pudding,’ Sister Mary Paul added, before bustling out of the room to refill the teapot.

  Surrounded by nuns, nurses and his mum, Jack enjoyed the warm female company, even though he was secretly longing for a fag. When Dr Reid appeared and suggested a stroll round the grounds, Jack was on his feet in a flash. ‘Certainly,’ he said, and followed Jamie into the garden.

  He offered Jamie a Capstan cigarette, and, sitting smoking on the terrace bench, both men gazed out to sea.

  ‘I should think you’re sick of the sight of the sea,’ Jamie mused.

  After inhaling deeply on his cigarette, Jack replied, ‘Not this sea: it’s beautiful. It’s the North Atlantic I’m not keen on – wind, rain, hail, mist, gales, mines – hell at times.’

  ‘I really don’t know how you lads stick it on board a mine sweeper,’ Jamie said in all sincerity. ‘Cooped up and throwing up.’

  ‘I was terrible seasick to start with,’ Jack told Jamie. ‘It took me months before I found my sea-legs.’ Casting around to make sure he couldn’t be overheard, Jack continued in a low voice, ‘We’ve just got wind that we might be moving south, to Italy. It’s not official yet. The Navy’s got to keep the supply line open for our lads in North Africa plus it’ll hit the Wops hard if we start waging war on them from the sea.’

  Jamie stared at the impressive young man beside him: for one so young he had a sensible head on his shoulders.

  ‘You’re clearly a brave set of chaps,’ he said humbly.

  ‘Just taking orders,’ Jamie said, grinning. ‘By the way,’ he said, changing the subject, ‘don’t mention any of this to Mum. She worries all the time since our Percy died; the last thing I want to do is add to her grief.’

  ‘I’ll be careful what I say,’ Jamie promised. ‘It must be tough for you without your twin?’

  ‘He was the eldest by five minutes,’ Jack said sadly. ‘Our Percy was always there for me. I know he’s dead but sometimes, especially when I’m in danger, I feel him beside me, hear his calm voice, see the look he used to give me when I was frightened.’ Tears filled Jack’s eyes. ‘He might be gone but my brother is still with me … I pray he always will be.’

  Feeling a little choked by Jack’s sincere outpouring, Jamie was relieved to see Ada walking towards them, smiling.

  ‘If you two don’t come and eat Sister Mary Paul’s apple crumble soon, she’ll have your guts for garters!’

  While the men were outside, Dora had spoken in a conspiratorial whisper to her friends. ‘I’m warming to this idea of a party for our Jack, though it is the day before he goes back, the thirty-first of October.’

  ‘Halloween!’ Ada cried.

  Dora gave an excited smile as she turned to Matron. ‘Might it be possible to borrow the dining room for the event?’ she asked.

  ‘Certainly,’ Sister Ann replied.

  ‘We could decorate the room with balloons and bunting to provide a bit of an atmosphere,’ Dora continued. ‘And I think my husband could lay his hands on a barrel of beer and some sherry,’ she added with a mysterious wink. ‘Some of Jack’s pals might even be home on leave, and I’ll ask all the lasses in the Home to come too, if they feel up to it. That should swell the numbers.’

  As usual Sister Mary Paul’s only query was about the food. ‘I’ll make a birthday cake, though with what I’m not quite sure,’ Dora said, smiling.

  ‘I might be able to get some cheese and a bit of ham from Farmer Arkwright,’ Sister Mary Paul added.

  ‘Let’s keep it a secret?’ Dora begged. ‘Imagine our Jack’s face when he walks in here on his birthday and sees the place decorated in his honour.’

  The idea of a surprise party grabbed everybody’s imagination. Gracie’s face lit up as an idea dawned. ‘Why don’t we copy the Yanks? They go mad at Halloween. I saw it in a film once: nearly everybody dresses up and parades around in their spooky costumes. I could dress as the Bride of Frankenstein,’ she joked. ‘All I need is a big white nightie to look the part.’

  ‘Maybe I could borrow one of the nun’s habits and come as a ghost!’ Diana giggled.

  After they had received their invitations several of the residents got into the fancy-dress theme, but the majority said they couldn’t be bothered.

  ‘What’s the point of fancy dress when you’re as big as a house?’ one girl grumbled.

  Undeterred, Ada and Dora were determined to dress up for the event. ‘I think I’ll come as a little devil,’ Dora announced.

  ‘Very fitting,’ Matron teased.

  ‘I could make a devil’s trident out of cardboard and paint it red, and stick some red horns in my hair,’ Dora elaborated.

  Ada was determined to dress up as a fairy. ‘I’ll see if I can find some old curtain material in the junk shops in Grange; lace netting would be even better. I could cut it up to make wings!’

  Shirley, who was still a bit of a child at heart, asked if she could help with the sewing. ‘Maybe I could find some sequins and make a fairy crown for you, Ada,’ she said wistfully.

  Ada gave her a long, knowing look. ‘Shirley, dear,’ she teased, ‘I think sequins are the very last thing that you’ll ever find in the convent!’

  While Diana and Zelda declined dressing up, Zelda took things one step further. ‘I won’t be coming to the party,’ she announced one night as she and her friends were preparing for bed.

  Diana and Gracie stopped midway between cleaning their teeth. ‘You won’t be coming?’ Gracie repeated her words.

  ‘Why ever not?’ Diana asked.

  Zelda didn’t dare tell the truth: that she was extremely uncomfortable being in the same room as Frank Arkwright.

  ‘I suppose I’m just too shy.’

  Seeing her blushing, self-conscious face, her friends didn’t push it, but Gracie instinctively knew why Zelda was avoiding the festivities. She had seen the way the girl flinched whenever they stopped off at the farm these days. Before Frank’s return Zelda had always liked visiting Alf; hopping out of the van to help him load up, she always used to laugh and chat with the farmer all the way to Kendal and back. These days she barely spoke a word a single word to him.

  ‘Pity to miss out on the fun,’ was all Gracie said as they bade each other goodnight.

  Zelda didn’t consider any time spent with Frank Arkwright would be ‘fun’, more like ‘hell’ as far as she was concerned. After switching off the light, Zelda lay in the darkness holding on to her tummy, where her baby turned and shifted position. Soon she would be holding him or her in her arms; soon she would be kissing Izaak’s son or daughter. Her happy thoughts gave way to fear: where would she go, once she was discharged? Where would she and her baby be safe when she was forced to leave Mary Vale?

  As the days passed and the party drew near, Ada and Shirley were busy in the little spare time they had cutting and sewing Ada’s fairy dress. While picking up deliveries in town, Ada had tracked down some lace curtains in a second-hand shop, and some sequins and little crystal beads too. The material and decorations had delighted Shirley, who would never have worn such a frivolous outfit, but the thought of creating a magical garment clearly thrilled her. After taking Ada’s measurements Shirley copied a dress pattern from a women’s magazine on to sheets of newspaper.

  ‘It’ll be short and swirly, with a glittery bodice and wings!’ she informed Ada, who couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘You should make one for yourself,’ she teased.

  Shirley looked shocked. ‘I’d never show my legs in public!’ she exclaimed.

  At the first fitting in Sister Mary Paul’s kitchen Ada twirled around in front of the nun, who gave a disapproving snort.

  ‘Heavens, it’s a good inch above your knee – way too short!’

  ‘Ada’s got gorgeous long legs – she should show them off,’ Shirley mumbled through several dressmaker’s pins she was gripping in her teeth. ‘What with her slim waist and long hair, Ada will look like the Queen of the Fairies on the night of the party.’

  While
the October days remained warm, Ada and Shirley stitched the dress in the garden whenever they had a moment to spare, but, as the evenings drew darker and longer, they removed themselves to the Home’s snug sitting room, where Sister Mary Paul always kept a fire going on chilly evenings.

  ‘It’s lovely to see the pair of you stitching so peacefully – it’s like something out of a fairy tale,’ the old nun mused as she handed them both a mug of hot cocoa. ‘I’d offer to help myself, but I’m better with a rolling pin than I am with a needle and thread.’

  ‘Stick with the cooking,’ Ada advised. ‘We haven’t all been blessed with your culinary talents, Sister.’

  They passed the time chatting easily about work, the residents, the latest babies to be born, and then Frank Arkwright popped into their conversation.

  ‘Dr Reid has done a splendid job,’ Ada enthused. ‘We’re hoping the scar on his face will slowly fade, but it will take time,’ she added cautiously.

  Shirley gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘The poor fella has enough to put up with, wearing an eye patch for the rest of his life; the last thing he needs is an ugly scar too.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll recover enough to work on the farm?’ Sister Mary Paul enquired. ‘His dad’s not getting any younger, and he needs help these days.’

  ‘Frank’s strong,’ Ada answered. ‘There’s no reason why he shouldn’t get back to full strength; as for the state of his mind, that’s altogether another matter.’

  ‘Time is a great healer,’ Sister Mary Paul said fervently. ‘And prayer too.’

  Ada smiled at the two sweet nuns, one old, the other young, both devout and trusting in their Lord; she hadn’t the heart to tell them that Frank Arkwright hadn’t ever given her the impression that he had any belief in God’s goodness or for that matter in humanity either.

  17. Party

  Even though Ada was working flat out on her fancy-dress costume, Jamie refused point blank to dress up.

  ‘I might be on call,’ he pointed out. ‘My patients would have a heart attack if I turned up looking like Count Dracula! But I will wear my best suit,’ he promised, as he kissed the little freckles on the tip of Ada’s nose. ‘I’ll even go so far as to buy a new shirt in honour of you, Fairy Dale, which by the way sounds like a scene from Walt Disney’s Snow White,’ he joked.