On a Turning Tide

by Ellie Dean

  ‘Harvey’s pining for Ron,’ said Peggy, ‘and I’m sure Ron’s missing him too. Alf will be wise enough to keep out of Matron’s way.’ She cupped the girl’s cheek, noting the sadness in her expression that had been present ever since Peter had sent her away from the hospital. ‘And what about you, Rita? Have you decided what to do about Peter?’

  Rita took a deep breath. ‘I’m going up there to have it out with him,’ she said firmly. ‘This state of affairs has gone on too long already, and we need to have a proper talk.’

  ‘You have to be very certain of your feelings for him, Rita,’ Peggy warned. ‘The bump on his head has changed him and ruined any chance of the plans he had to keep on flying. And although I understand what an emotional storm you’re going through, it won’t do either of you any good if you rush into something just because the situation seems to demand it and you mistake pity for something much deeper.’

  ‘I do know that, Auntie Peggy, and I’m quite, quite sure of how I feel about him.’

  Peggy drew her into a hug and held her close. Rita was like a daughter and she wanted only the best for her – to see her happy and settled with the right man who would love her unconditionally and care for her into old age. Peter had seemed perfect until he’d been wounded, but his refusal to see Rita had rocked Peggy’s faith in him. He’d have to change his attitude radically for Peggy to trust him again.

  She said none of this as she cuddled the girl, for it would be up to Rita in the end to decide whether he was right for her or not. But there was a rocky road ahead if she tied herself to Peter, for he was bound to want to return to Australia after the war, and Peggy wasn’t at all sure that little home-bird Rita would settle well so far from her father and all she knew.

  She kissed the top of the girl’s head, then, after a long moment, let her go. ‘Rosie’s coming to pick me and Daisy up at two. Do you want to come with us?’

  Rita grinned impishly. ‘I’ll make my own way, thanks. Rosie’s driving scares me half to death.’

  Peggy giggled. ‘Not at all like you on that motorbike,’ she teased. ‘But yes, Rosie is a bit inclined not to watch where she’s going. Still, she’s managed to get us all there in one piece so far, and thankfully there’s not a lot of traffic on the roads yet.’

  Rita pulled on her old leather flying jacket and wrapped a woolly scarf around her neck in preparation for the cold motorcycle journey over the hill. She kissed Peggy’s cheek. ‘Wish me luck. I’ll see you later.’

  Peggy smiled as Rita ran down the stairs to the cellar and slammed the back door behind her. Peter didn’t stand a chance if she was that determined to have him for her own, and it rather reminded Peggy of when she’d chased after Jim, intent upon marrying him, despite the fact half the girls in the town were on the same mission.

  Men really could be very dim at times, she thought with a soft smile. Didn’t they realise how deadly a really determined woman could be?

  Rita dashed into the garden, but instead of removing the tarpaulin cover from her Triumph, she hurried down Camden Road to the fire station. Minutes later she was astride Peter’s motorbike and roaring up the hill towards the Memorial at top speed. If turning up on his precious bike didn’t get a reaction from him then nothing would. And if he blew his top, so much the better, for at least he’d be talking to her at last and they could have a jolly good row to clear the air.

  She realised she wouldn’t get very far if she arrived through the front gate of the Memorial on the bike, so she took the steep, rutted lane which wound up the hill through the woods. This was one of Ron’s favourite walks, and he’d brought her here as a little girl to hunt in the deep, dark pool at the centre of the woods for the eels that gathered there at certain times of the year. He’d also taken her to look for birds’ nests in the spring and, when she was a bit older, to lie very still in the long grass to watch fox cubs emerge from their dens to play like puppies in the evening sunlight that filtered through the trees.

  She smiled at those happy memories, hoping they could do such things again once he was back to his old self. But for now she had a pig-headed and very irritating Aussie to deal with.

  Peter had been dozing when he thought he heard the familiar roar of his motorbike. Opening his eyes, he sat up sharply and watched in fury as Rita came pelting down the lawn towards him. By the time she’d spun the bike to a skidding halt outside the window, he’d grabbed his crutches and was on his feet.

  ‘What the flaming hell do you think you’re doing?’ he shouted through the window.

  Rita took off her crash helmet and grinned at him mischievously as she ruffled her dark curls. ‘Can’t hear you,’ she shouted back.

  ‘Flaming women,’ he muttered, thumping his crutches on the floor as he swung his plastered leg and tried to hurry to the door. ‘Flaming leg,’ he cursed when he almost tripped and fell in his rush. He grabbed his coat and yanked the door open. ‘What are you doing on my bike?’

  ‘What does it look like?’ Rita enquired sweetly. ‘Seeing as I’ve been the one to service it and get it going properly, I’ve earned a ride or two.’

  ‘I never said you could mess about with it,’ he retorted, struggling into his coat and making his careful way across the paved area.

  ‘I have not messed about with it,’ she replied tartly. ‘It’s running as sweet as a nut – which is more than I can say for the job you did on it before you went off to Belgium.’

  ‘I’ll have you know I was going to sort it out properly when I got back.’

  ‘Well, I saved you the bother.’ She grinned at him. ‘If you weren’t such a grump, I might even have offered you a pillion ride.’

  Peter saw the glint in her lovely brown eyes and knew she was teasing him. His bad mood fled and he grinned back. ‘I don’t reckon even you’d dare risk that.’

  Rita regarded him from bandaged head to plastered leg, the glint in her eye suddenly challenging. ‘Oh, I don’t know. You took me for a ride on the Triumph when I had my leg in plaster.’ She reached into the pannier for the spare helmet and held it out to him. ‘What’s the matter, Pete? Lost that Aussie thirst for adventure, have you?’

  He snatched the helmet from her and fumbled to get it over the bandages. ‘I’ll show you,’ he muttered.

  ‘Better get a move on then,’ she replied, looking over his shoulder. ‘I spy an advancing Matron.’

  He glanced back. For a big woman she was moving fast, and her furious expression didn’t bode at all well. He dropped the crutches, sat side-saddle behind Rita with his plastered leg stuck out, and grabbed her around the waist. ‘Chocks away, Rita. Put your foot down.’

  Rita spun the bike round and headed past the startled woman, down the side passage, across the gravel driveway and out onto the main road. It was wonderful to hear Peter’s yell of sheer joy, and to feel his arms around her, but she suddenly came to her senses and realised that what they were doing was utter madness.

  She slowed the bike and carefully turned off down a narrow lane.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Peter as she brought the bike to a halt.

  Rita switched off the engine and kicked the stand into place so the bike didn’t topple beneath him. ‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ she said, easing off the bike to stand and face him. ‘It was dangerous and stupid, and I could have killed you.’

  ‘Oh, Rita,’ he sighed. ‘That’s the most exciting thing to happen to me for weeks.’ He put his hands on her waist and looked into her eyes. ‘I don’t care if it was stupid, because it’s made me realise how much I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I’ve been such a gallah, Rita.’

  ‘I don’t know what a gallah is, but if it’s something stupid and Aussie, then it suits you,’ she replied without rancour. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she added softly. ‘Please don’t shut me out again.’

  He awkwardly drew her to him. ‘Never again, I promise,’ he murmured before kissing her passionately.

  Ron had heard the motorbike and gone out onto the fa
r end of the terrace to watch the scene on the lawn with a certain amount of admiration and relief. It was certainly time those two young things sorted out their differences, but he wasn’t at all sure about making that sort of exit with Matron now well and truly on the warpath. There’d be hell to pay when they came back, but Ron had the feeling that neither of them would care a jot.

  ‘That was one of your girls, wasn’t it?’ Matron snapped. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re not exactly the ideal role model.’

  Ron ignored her sniping and she stormed off in high dudgeon. They’d had their differences over the years and her venom rolled off him like water over a duck’s back. He dug his free hand into his dressing-gown pocket, glad of its warmth as he leaned on his walking stick and slowly headed along the terrace to the wooden bench where he’d had to tie Harvey when he’d come to visit Danuta the previous year.

  Harvey’s visits to the hospital in those days had been a bone of contention between him and Matron, as had Queenie, who’d escaped from his pocket one day and run riot around Danuta’s room. It’s all fun and games, really, he thought. But it is a shame the silly woman takes things so seriously.

  Settling down to fill his pipe and enjoy the crisp fresh air after the stifling atmosphere of the hospital, he eyed the tyre tracks that ran down the otherwise pristine lawn and smiled. Rita had always been a girl to rise to a challenge, and throughout her short life she’d certainly had to contend with rather a lot.

  Her mother had died when Rita was only a toddler, leaving a grieving Jack Smith to raise her with a good deal of help from Peggy. And then he’d been sent off to war, their home and garage business was destroyed in a fire-bomb attack and Rita had really struggled to find her place in the world, until Peggy had once more taken her under her wing. The loss of Matt, her first love, had hit hard, but it seemed she’d found something very special with that young Australian, for they were very alike in so many ways.

  He got his pipe going and puffed contentedly. He and Peggy would miss her horribly if she went off to Australia, but then the young ones had their own lives to lead, and all they could really do was wish them well and hope the future held all they hoped for. But Australia was a very long way away, so once she was gone, then they’d probably never see her again.

  He gave a deep sigh as his thoughts turned to the changes they would all have to face after this war was over. Danuta was talking about returning to Poland to nurse; Sarah and her sister Jane would either go to their mother in Australia or meet her back in Singapore to await news of their father and Sarah’s fiancé, Philip; Ivy and Andy were making plans to return to London to set up home; and his granddaughter Cissy seemed absolutely determined to marry her young American and go to live over there. That, however, depended entirely upon whether he’d survived the POW camp, and still wanted to marry her. They had, after all, been apart for almost three years, and their separate experiences were bound to have changed them both.

  The same held for his other granddaughter, Anne, and the two girls living in Briar Cottage with their babies. Their men would be very different from the ones they’d last seen, and he suspected that after the first flush of joy at having them home, they’d have to learn to fall in love again.

  As for Jim and Peggy, he could only hope for the best. Jim had been away for too long, and Peggy had found an independence he suspected she’d find impossible to let go. It could cause a great deal of friction between them, but in Ron’s opinion, Peggy had a right to do what she wanted and enjoyed, and although his son could be stubborn, he would surely realise that Peggy was a bright, intelligent woman who needed more than being tied to the kitchen sink.

  Ron gazed out across the garden to the past when he’d returned from war and tried to pick up the pieces again. After the noise and the horrors of the trenches, it had felt as if he’d been transported into a world he no longer recognised or understood – or even fitted into.

  He’d so longed for peace and to be back in those familiar places he’d once called home, that he’d thought he could just step back into his old shoes and carry on as if nothing had happened. But he’d discovered that he missed the excitement and the chaos – and every day stretched before him endlessly, the nights spent in tormented dreams. Only his sons and the other survivors understood what he was going through, for it seemed that the rest of the world was too busy getting on with life to care.

  Ron realised he was getting maudlin as well as rather chilled. He knocked the dottle from his pipe, shoved it into his pocket and heaved himself off the bench. He’d see if there was a chance of a cup of tea and a biscuit before Rosie came to visit. Little Nurse Brown was on duty, and she was usually very amenable to a wink and a smile.

  ‘Harvey, stop!’

  Ron looked round at Alf’s desperate shout and saw Harvey hurtling towards him down the lawn. He didn’t have time to sit down again or brace himself before his dog threw himself at him, knocked him to the ground and tried to lick him to death as he crawled all over him.

  Winded by his fall and unable to push the heavy dog off him, Ron lay there on the grass and let Harvey do his worst. He hadn’t seen him since the tunnel collapse and was so delighted that he seemed as daft and energetic as ever that when he got his breath back, he put his arms round him and buried his face in his fur. ‘To be sure, ’tis good to see you too, old boy,’ he chuckled. ‘But you weigh a ton and I can hardly move.’

  Harvey licked his face and ears and gave little whines of pleasure as he resisted Alf’s tugging on his lead.

  ‘What is going on out here?’ Matron demanded. ‘Get that dog away immediately!’

  Harvey growled, his hackles rising in recognition of the woman who’d shouted at him before.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ panted Alf, desperately trying to haul Harvey away from Ron. ‘He was pulling so hard the lead slipped out of my hand, and there was no way I could catch him once he saw you.’

  Ron was still on his back beneath the dog. ‘Aye, leave him be, the pair of you. Seeing my dog again is the best tonic I could have.’ He ruffled Harvey’s ears and the dog reciprocated by dribbling down Ron’s neck.

  Matron shoved Alf out of the way and grabbed Harvey’s collar, giving it a nasty tug.

  Harvey’s head whipped round and he gave a deep growl which revealed a set of wickedly sharp teeth.

  ‘There, there, Harvey, she won’t be biting you,’ soothed Ron. ‘Be a good dog and let me back up onto me feet. To be sure, it’s cold on this damp grass.’

  Alf pulled Harvey away and held tightly to both lead and collar as Matron tried and failed to get Ron onto his feet.

  ‘Blast and double blast,’ Ron spluttered, flailing like a beached turtle in the plaster jacket. ‘Alf, give us a hand up, for pity’s sake.’

  Alf fixed the loop at the end of the leash around his ankle, and at the risk of having his leg whipped from beneath him by an overexcited Harvey, managed to get Ron back up and sitting on the bench. His face was as red as a beetroot, and he was sweating profusely from the effort, his frightened gaze darting frequently towards the furious Matron.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ron. I wouldn’t have brought him if I’d known what trouble he’d cause – but he was pining, you see, and off his food.’

  ‘Aye, you did the right thing, Alf,’ he murmured, taking charge of the lead. ‘Now sit and behave, you heathen beast,’ he said firmly to Harvey. ‘Or Matron will have us both for the high jump.’

  ‘Oh, you’re way past the high jump, Mr Reilly,’ stormed Matron. She turned with a furious glare to Alf. ‘You will leave immediately and take that animal with you. I do not wish to see either of you here again.’

  Despite Ron’s encouragement to Harvey to go home, Alf had to virtually drag him along the terrace and out of sight through the side entrance. It wouldn’t have surprised Ron at all if Harvey appeared again, having escaped Alf.

  Matron turned the full force of her rage on Ron. ‘This is not the first time you and your animals have disrupted the sm
ooth running of my hospital, and I will not stand for it. Do you hear?’

  ‘Aye, I can hear you – and so can they,’ he replied sourly, nodding towards the many faces at the windows. ‘To be sure, I’m much better from the visit, so I really can’t understand why you’re in such a lather.’

  ‘Get indoors, Mr Reilly,’ she rasped. ‘You will need your plaster checked for any damage, and if there is, then one of my nurses will have to attend to it – despite the fact there is more than enough for them to do as it is.’ She drew a shallow breath. ‘I shall be reporting you to the board of governors – and if you give them as little respect as you’ve shown me, they’ll see you’re sent to an RAF rehabilitation unit in Loughborough along with Wing Commander Ryan.’

  Her mouth twisted into an unpleasant smirk. ‘I doubt very much your dog will find you there, and as all visiting is strictly off limits, there will be no more repeats of this afternoon’s disgraceful carrying-on.’

  Ron regarded her with loathing. ‘You’re a disgrace to your profession,’ he growled, ‘and about the most unpleasant woman I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. The board will certainly hear from me too, and with any luck they’ll get rid of you so that this hospital can be run efficiently by someone who is not a stranger to kindness and understanding.’

  Matron stood there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and Ron winked to those watching at the window. What Matron didn’t know was that the chairman of the board had been his commanding officer during the last big push in 1918, and had personally recommended Ron for a bravery award. Ron didn’t usually rely on past glories to influence people, but this seemed the perfect time to break that rule and use every ounce of influence he had to get rid of her.

  25

  Ron had been released from the Memorial the following week, and although Matron had clearly not reported him and Peter, Ron had written a letter to his old CO, outlining his complaints, which had been counter-signed by nearly every patient.