Home Fires and Spitfires

by Daisy Styles

  ‘Well, if you’re sure …’ she asked.

  ‘Get away with you,’ Sister Ann exclaimed. ‘It’s not like we’re rushed off our feet. There’s nobody else due to give birth. Sister Theresa has volunteered to lend a hand with the feeding rota so you’re as free as a bird.’

  ‘Will you make sure that Gracie gets her Christmas dinner on a tray in the ward?’ Ada fretted. ‘I don’t want her tiring herself out walking up and down all those long corridors.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sister Ann promised. ‘I’ll see to it myself.’

  Ada was feeling rather guilty that she had barely seen the new mother since she had given birth. ‘I popped in to see her earlier: she seems to be thriving, though her breasts are sore with not feeding, but that will pass.’ She smiled as she added, ‘Gracie’s called her little girl Daisy – she’s a sweet little thing.’

  Sister Ann gave her friend a gentle shove. ‘Don’t hang about here wasting precious time. Off you go – there’s a handsome young man waiting for you!’

  Smiling excitedly, Ada hurried to Jamie’s former surgery, where she expected to find him soundly sleeping, but when she got there Jamie was nowhere to be seen. Standing in the corridor wondering where he might have gone to, Ada heard loud, clear whistling coming from the staff bathroom.

  ‘Jamie, is that you?’ she called, as she pushed open the door.

  Waving his razor in the air, Jamie answered with a cheerful smile. ‘Morning, darling. Come and join me,’ he said, and he beckoned her over to the sink.

  Giggling Ada wiped soap from his stubbly chin and then mischievously dabbed it on his nose.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked.

  Disregarding his soapy face, Jamie pulled Ada to his chest and kissed her long and hard on the lips.

  ‘I most certainly did,’ he announced, as he rubbed his stubbly face against her silky-soft cheek.

  ‘OW! Stop,’ she exclaimed, as she struggled free of his grip. ‘Listen, darling,’ she added urgently, ‘Matron’s given me the rest of the day off.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ he declared. ‘Let’s go fell-walking, just you and me on the mountaintops on Christmas Day,’ he added romantically.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll go and get changed right away.’

  ‘Try and scrounge some food off Sister Mary Paul,’ Jamie called after her. ‘I’m ravenous again.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ada called over her shoulder. ‘See you in the kitchen in ten minutes.’

  Ada found Jamie sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea and a plate of fried eggs and beans before him. Clucking like an anxious mother hen, Sister Mary Paul popped another plateful of food and another mug of tea on the table for Ada.

  ‘Eat!’ she commanded. ‘Dr Reid tells me you’re going fell-walking in this freezing cold weather. Glory be to God, you could catch your death up there,’ she fretted.

  Ada playfully rolled her eyes at Jamie, who gave her an indulgent smile.

  ‘It’s a fine day, Sister,’ he insisted. ‘The ground will be hard after the frost, which makes for good walking – better than slipping and sliding on ice and mud. We should enjoy a full day’s walking if we set off soon,’ he added, as he wiped his plate with a slice of toast and downed his tea.

  Sister Mary Paul presented them with several greaseproof packages. ‘There’s some cheese-and-pickle sandwiches and a Thermos of hot tea: that should keep the pair of you going until you get down from the fells. And I’ll keep your dinners warming in the Aga – it would be a terrible shame to miss Christmas dinner.’

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ Ada said, as she rose to give the old nun a big hug. ‘We’ll survive till dinner-time on your picnic and we’ll be down before it goes dark.’

  ‘You’d better be, or I’ll have the mountain-rescue team out looking for you,’ Sister Mary Paul threatened.

  As Jamie and Ada drove away from Mary Vale, Zelda was pushing Constanza’s pram into the Arkwrights’ farmyard, where father and son greeted her with smiles of pleasure.

  ‘Hello there,’ Alf exclaimed.

  Zelda gave a bright smile. ‘I thought I’d drop by with Constanza to wish you both a Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Merry Christmas to you too,’ Alf replied warmly. ‘How is the little lass?’ he enquired as he peered into the pram, where the baby lay peacefully sleeping. ‘My, she’s growing proper fast, right enough,’ he enthused.

  Frank also fondly peered into the pram. ‘Sleeping like an angel,’ he whispered. Still smiling, Frank turned to Zelda. ‘I were just leaving to walk down to the bottom field to check on the sheep – fancy stretching your legs and coming with me?’

  Zelda looked uncertainly at her sleeping daughter. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the babby,’ Alf kindly volunteered.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Zelda asked.

  ‘Aye, as long as she doesn’t need feeding,’ Alf joked.

  ‘I fed her just before I left Mary Vale, so she should be fine for another few hours,’ Zelda explained.

  ‘Well, then, off you go, enjoy your walk,’ Alf urged. ‘Get back in time to walk over to Mary Vale for Christmas dinner,’ he reminded them with a chuckle. ‘I can almost smell Sister Mary Paul’s dinner roasting in the oven.’

  Zelda gave the old man a grateful smile, then set off at a brisk pace with Frank, whose long legs were twice the length of hers. Breathing in mouthfuls of cold fresh air, Zelda smiled as she climbed over the stile that led into the fields skirting the edge of Cartmel Fell. Catching her breath, she chatted to Frank. ‘I feel like I’ve been indoors for too long,’ she admitted. ‘The only time I go out these days is when I push Constanza’s pram to the garden shed.’

  Frank smiled at her flushed pink cheeks and bright sparkling eyes. ‘You’ve had your hands full recently,’ he conceded.

  ‘What are you going to do with the sheep?’ she asked, as she all but ran to keep up with him.

  ‘Just checking how they’re getting on,’ he told her. ‘We need to keep an eye on them, as they’ll be lambing soon; then we’ll have to bring them into the barn.’

  Looking around at the beautiful landscape of wild forest and rolling green hills that steadily rose to meet the higher, more majestic peaks of the Lake District, Zelda asked something she had been curious about for some time. ‘There aren’t many farms around here, apart from yours – do you ever get lonely?’

  Frank shook his head. ‘There’s barely time to get lonely on a farm,’ he replied. ‘I’ve got friends in the area, but they’re presently away fighting. It’s only the likes of me who’s been signed off,’ he said flatly.

  An indignant light flashed in Zelda’s eyes. ‘You’ve done your bit,’ she exclaimed protectively. ‘You can’t possibly be thinking of wanting to return to the Front?’ she hotly demanded.

  Seeing her face, usually so sweet and calm but now inflamed with passion, Frank couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing. ‘It’s me that should be angry with the situation, not you, lass,’ he soothed.

  ‘War makes me angry,’ she blurted out.

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed, before changing the subject. Wanting to see her smiling again, Frank said, ‘So what are your plans for the future, now that you’ve got a kiddie?’

  ‘I have to admit I’ve been asking myself that same question,’ Zelda replied.

  Turning her eyes towards the hills and mountains that had become so familiar to her and that she had learnt to love over the months she had lived at Mary Vale, she said thoughtfully, ‘I’ve found peace and happiness in this beautiful valley.’

  Catching the emotion in her gentle voice and seeing the tears welling up in her large dark eyes, Frank’s heart ached for the brave little woman standing before him. ‘I’d like my little girl to grow up here,’ Zelda added wistfully.

  Frank gave a gruff cough. ‘It’s a grand place to bring up kiddies: plenty of space to run around, trees to climb, mountains to walk. Little Constanza would do well to grow up in this valley.’

  Zelda gave a helpless shru
g. ‘I agree with you, Frank, but I’m not sure how it could possibly be achieved. I mean, how would I make ends meet, what would I live on?’

  ‘Don’t be so daft, lass,’ he smiled. ‘You’ve got your market garden and your tonics and ointments. I’m sure you could make a go of things.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Zelda replied.

  ‘Why not give it a go?’ he urged. ‘You stand a better chance of making a go of things in an area where you’re already well established than moving to a strange town where you don’t have any friends.’

  ‘I can’t deny that’s a good point,’ she agreed.

  Determined to push the idea home, Frank quickly added, ‘There are cottages in the valley that sometimes come up for rent; they might need a bit of patching up, but between us Dad and I could sort that out for you. Neither of us would like to see you and the little lass go,’ he concluded in a rush.

  Zelda smothered a cry of astonishment. In all her wildest dreams she had never imagined that Frank or Alf would miss her! Moved by his kind offer to help, she was momentarily lost for words. Luckily the loud noise of bleating sheep claimed Frank’s attention, and for the next half-hour they were both fully occupied with herding the sheep into a fold, where Frank was able to examine them one by one. Finally satisfied, Frank guided Zelda out of the fold, with the sheep bleating plaintively after them.

  ‘Dad will have a fit if we’re late for Mary Vale’s slap-up Christmas dinner,’ Frank said, smiling. ‘He’s supplied most of the grub.’

  Zelda checked her watch and quickened her pace. ‘Constanza will be waking up any time now,’ she announced.

  Amused at the thought of his dad handling a hungry baby, Frank chuckled low in his throat. ‘Another good reason why Dad might have a fit!’

  32. Sour Milk Gill

  Ada and Jamie were also enjoying a beautiful Christmas day, driving through Keswick alone and blissfully happy. Empty of visitors and with its shops closed for the holidays, the little grey-stone town with its ancient Moot Hall looked charming as they drove through on their way to Derwentwater. In the morning light waves broke on the shore of the vast lake, while meandering streams the colour of lapis lazuli threaded their way through a network of marshlands.

  ‘I feel like we’re the only people in the world,’ Ada said, as she gazed at the empty shoreline, where a flock of swooping seagulls screeched crossly at each other.

  ‘The Christmas-morning services will be over by now,’ Jamie mused. ‘Time to get out the sherry bottle and open gifts while dinner cooks in the oven.’

  Ada gave him a curious look. ‘You sound almost envious.’

  Jamie pressed his warm hand on her slender thighs, which he softly squeezed. ‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere in the world but right here with you, my darling.’

  Ada laid her head against his shoulder. ‘I wish we could hide in the mountains until the war is over,’ she sighed, tears forming in her eyes. ‘I just can’t bear the thought of your going back.’

  ‘Let’s not think about that just yet,’ Jamie begged. ‘We’ve got all of today and some of tomorrow.’

  ‘I feel guilty that I’ve taken up most of your leave. Your mother will be feeling very neglected.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, sweetheart. My sister will be at home with her three noisy children – I wouldn’t get a word in edgeways even if I were there.’

  Cuddling up close to him, Ada leant over to kiss Jamie’s cheek.

  ‘We must seize the day!’ Jamie cried, as he pressed down hard on the accelerator, and the car sped along the winding lanes. ‘Just for now, let’s forget all about tomorrow.’

  A few miles down the road Jamie halted at a little grey-slate village surrounded by sheepfolds and barns.

  ‘Seathwaite,’ he said, grinning. ‘The wettest place in England!’

  As they laced up their walking boots and put on raincoats, Ada asked where Jamie was planning on walking.

  ‘We’re going to Sty Head, another of my favourite places.’

  Ada laughed at his boyish enthusiasm. ‘You say that about everywhere we go,’ she teased.

  ‘That’s because they’re all perfect places when I can share them with you,’ Jamie laughed.

  Walking hand in hand, they crossed the boggy fields and began walking over slabs and rocks that skirted a fast-flowing stream.

  ‘This route up the fell is called Sour Milk Gill,’ Jamie said, as he watched Ada sprint like an athlete up the steep upward-curving path. ‘You can cool yourself down if you get too hot – the water’s delicious,’ he said, dipping his hand into the freezing cold gill. ‘Sweet and cold and fresh.’

  Following the course of the cascading stream, they climbed higher and higher, until they reached the peak of Green Gable, where they stood buffeted by a strong wind. Gazing in awestruck silence at the majesty of the landscape, Ada caught her breath.

  ‘That’s Sty Head Tarn,’ Jamie explained, pointing towards a small lake twinkling in the slanting sunlight like a bright jewel. ‘Up above Sty Head you can just make out the blue waters of Sprinkling Tarn and beyond that the Langdale Range.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so beautiful in my life,’ Ada cried, as she flung her arms wide. ‘I want to catch it all and hold it forever,’ she said, and turned to kiss Jamie full on the mouth. ‘I’ll remember this always,’ she whispered in his ear, as the wind whipped her hair around her face.

  Smiling, Jamie pulled her close and kissed her cold cheeks, now bright red because of the cold wind.

  ‘Fancy having our picnic down there by Sty Head Tarn – it’ll be more sheltered from the wind than up here?’ he asked.

  Ada nodded. ‘I’m starving!’

  By the time they reached Windy Gap, the wind roaring up from Honister Pass was strong enough to almost blow them over.

  ‘It’s wild,’ Ada laughed, as she struggled to keep her balance.

  ‘It’ll be fine once we drop down on to the other side,’ Jamie replied.

  Keeping to the stony pathway that followed the course of Sty Head Gill, they made their way down Aaron Slack, where the wind did indeed drop until they were finally able to hear themselves speak. Once they’d reached the relatively flat area surrounding the tarn, they settled down with their backs against a great granite slab that kept them sheltered from the wind as they ate their picnic.

  ‘Thank God for Sister Mary Paul,’ Jamie mumbled, as he ate his cheese-and-pickle sandwiches with relish.

  ‘Here, have some tea,’ Ada said, handing him the Thermos.

  Replete after eating, Jamie sighed as he lifted his face to the weak sunshine. ‘This is a world away from where I’ve been,’ he said quietly.

  Ada held her breath as Jamie started to speak. She had been longing to talk to him about his time in the casualty clearing station but had held back for fear of spoiling their happy mood, but now he seemed relaxed enough to open up about his work.

  ‘The bombing seems to go on all day long,’ he started. ‘The shells zip over in batches every fifteen minutes. No matter how hard and long we work, the casualties just keep on piling up. We’re constantly shifting the operating theatre, which is lit by only one pretty feeble electric lamp, to a safer place. On one ghastly occasion the operating theatre, in some grand room in an abandoned French chateau, was hit by a shell. It was grim sorting out the patients from the masonry in order to get the injured outside. Everybody was shouting for help and water; some poor chaps were crawling, wounded and bleeding, on the lawn with shells bursting around them.’

  Seeing the lines around Jamie’s jaw thicken with tension, Ada reached out to take his hand, which she kept hold of.

  ‘It must be heartbreaking working in such terrible conditions,’ she murmured.

  ‘It’s great when you can help to alleviate a patient’s pain or evacuate the casualties to a general hospital behind the lines – what’s hell is seeing men suffering and not being able to do anything.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’m a doctor, de
dicated to saving lives, but I’ve had to watch sick men die and it feels so wrong.’ Squeezing Ada’s hand hard, he added, ‘Don’t misunderstand me, darling, I want to be there, I just wish there were better conditions in which to treat the wounded, and more equipment too. There’s simply never enough. Civilians send us socks and soap when what we really need is scalpels, lamps, bandages, beds, blankets and stretchers.’

  ‘Surely as the war intensifies the authorities will provide more essential equipment?’ Ada asked.

  ‘I hope so,’ he agreed. ‘But how can we possibly operate effectively with German shells landing so close to our clearing stations? It’s not just lives that are lost; it’s the loss of all the equipment too.’

  Taking a deep breath, Jamie replaced the lid on the Thermos. ‘Enough of that,’ he muttered apologetically. ‘I’ve said way too much.’

  Ada looked at him indignantly. ‘Why shouldn’t you tell me what you’re going through over there? I would prefer to know the truth,’ she hotly insisted.

  Jamie laid his head on her full, rounded breasts. ‘I wish I could stay here forever, here in the country that I love with the woman I adore.’

  Ada stroked his cheek as she kissed the top of his head. ‘Come back to me safely, won’t you, my darling?’

  Jamie looked up into her lovely but anxious face. Tracing the line of her luscious pouting lips with his index finger, he whispered his reply. ‘It’s the thought of you, my love, that keeps me alive.’

  By the time Jamie and Ada got back to Mary Vale, Christmas dinner was over and a party was in full swing in the dining room. With Dora on the piano leading the singing, the Home resonated with the happy sound of carols. Alf’s and Frank’s deep voices sounded out, while Sister Theresa’s and Sister Ann’s sweet, pure voices accompanied the residents, who were all wearing paper hats. Sister Mary Paul had kept her promise to save Jamie and Ada dinner, which they ate sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘There’s a glass of port, a little gift from the convent, to go with it,’ the nun said with a wicked smile. ‘Now I’ll leave you in peace to finish your meal before I start clearing up.’