Wartime for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

  ‘Oh, that lovely Dr McGillicuddy used to brighten my day in so many ways,’ Mary had said longingly, and Edith had felt so sorry for her that she’d asked her along to the cinema as well.

  Now Mary bounded along from her room at the end of the attic corridor. ‘Ready yet?’ she demanded cheerfully. ‘Oh, nice scarf, Edie. Goes with your eyes. When did you get that?’

  ‘Saw it in the market in between patients and I thought I deserved it after the morning I’d had,’ Edith confessed. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Al, I had a bit of time to spare and I wasn’t late for my next call or anything. It was hanging at the end of a stall and it called out to me, I swear.’ She patted the knot in it.

  Alice picked up her old handbag and declared herself ready. She knew she didn’t look as smart as yesterday, now she was back to her serviceable pale blue shift dress, but it didn’t matter. It was just a night out with friends.

  Kathleen could see the nurses approaching the cinema on busy Hackney Road, and breathed a sigh of relief that the tall dark-haired young woman wasn’t one of them. If there was anything between Billy and her, she really didn’t want to witness it on her first night out for so long. It would have ruined everything.

  There he was now, speeding along the pavement towards her. He had tried to slick down his curly hair with Brylcreem, but nothing could subdue it for long. Still, she could tell he had made an effort, in his smartest light jacket and the shoes he kept for best, not his work boots or heavy-duty ARP ones. She was glad she’d made an effort too. When she’d gone home to fetch Brian’s clothes she had taken the opportunity to change into her nicest skirt and the cardigan she had knitted herself from some fine cherry-red wool that Flo had had left over. She’d worried that it would be too bright, too attention-grabbing, but tonight it fitted the mood of celebration. Joe was back amongst them and they were all going to make the most of it.

  She couldn’t help smiling as Billy drew up beside her, even though she knew she should still be in mourning. He looked at her with such feeling that she almost reached out for him, even though she knew she must not. But there was no harm in basking in that feeling of safety that he always brought to her. Maybe everything would be all right. They’d heard no more from Elsie, and Kathleen was beginning to think the woman’s threats had been empty – unpleasant, but nothing to them.

  ‘You look lovely, Kath.’ The words were out of Billy’s mouth before he could stop them. He was very aware of how her silky cardigan brought out the natural colour of her lips. He mustn’t think about that, whatever he did. ‘Is everyone here? Where’s Edie?’

  ‘She’s over there with Alice and Mary. They just got here too.’ Kathleen approved of the way Billy had kept an eye on Edith since Harry’s death. He was such a good, kind man. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She prayed it was not too late for them.

  ‘Here’s your ticket, Kath.’ Joe came over and handed her the piece of stiff paper. ‘We’d better make our way in, there’s quite a crowd.’ He nodded to Billy and then turned back to the group of nurses. Kathleen wondered if he would make a point of sitting next to Alice.

  Sure enough, as they filed through the lovely Art Deco entrance hall, Joe had made sure he was standing next to the tall blonde nurse, while Billy positioned himself between Kathleen and Edith. Clarrie and Peggy arrived in the nick of time and had to squeeze themselves at the end of the row next to Mary.

  Billy wanted to savour the delights of sitting next to Kathleen: the way it felt natural for their arms to rest next to one another’s; the way their legs couldn’t help but touch in the crowded auditorium. As the lights dimmed he could allow himself to dream that they were on their own settee in their own living room in their own home. But he couldn’t drift off into a reverie. He had to think. On his other side sat Edith, bravely determined to enjoy her night out, oblivious to the bombshell Ron had dropped. What was he going to do? He couldn’t let her suspect a thing. It would break her heart to believe Harry was alive somewhere only to have those hopes dashed. Without knowing he was doing it, he drew away from her a little, moving ever closer to Kathleen.

  Edith noticed his arm retract from the armrest they shared, but assumed that Billy was simply being gentlemanly in allowing her to use it. Billy had seemed a little distant but she made nothing of it. She knew he was working long hours and then spending half the night on duty with Stan, and so she reckoned he was entitled to behave how he liked on his time off.

  Alice, meanwhile, was basking in the enjoyment of sitting next to Joe, a sensation she’d almost forgotten. She fancied that his arms had grown stronger since the last time they’d sat pressed together like this, and he held himself a little differently – more alert. She hoped he wasn’t already thinking about his return to Orkney. She wanted him to make the most of being here, away from the pressures of his work, the demands of service. She’d treat him to something nice to eat at the interval. Somehow she wanted to make tonight special for him, so he’d have it to remember back on his cold ship. Then the fanfare for Pathé News began and she attempted to put aside all other thoughts to concentrate on the latest bulletin. It was only right at the end of the main feature that Joe spoke quietly in her ear. Her skin shivered a little at the touch of his breath.

  ‘I know you’ll have to go straight back after this or you’ll get in trouble for breaking curfew, but shall we go somewhere tomorrow, just the two of us? I’ve missed our chats. Don’t worry if you’re too busy.’

  Alice flushed at the very idea she might turn him down. She swivelled in her seat so she could face him. ‘Of course,’ she said quickly, ‘I’ve missed them too.’ Her arm brushed against his more forcefully as she turned back, and she was sure his newly toned muscles reacted. She could sense his warmth and it made her secretly smile, even as she leant to pick up her bag as the credits rolled and the crowd began to move towards the exit.

  ‘I’ll see you back to your place, or are you staying at Joe’s?’ Billy asked Kathleen as they allowed themselves to be swept along through the foyer.

  ‘I’ll stay with the Banhams. So there’s no need,’ she said, glad he had suggested it all the same.

  ‘No, but I want to. Anyway, I could do with a word with Stan,’ Billy said, trying to make it sound like an excuse, when it was really why he had to come with her. Of course Joe could see her back, but not only was Billy glad of every extra moment with her, he had formulated a plan while watching the film. Half of his brain had followed Tommy Trinder and his antics, and he’d laughed along with the rest of them, but the other half had been working overtime.

  He was due some time off from the docks. It had been ages since he’d taken so much as a day. Changing his ARP shift would be harder, but Brendan Richards, the stallholder from the market he’d recruited, was coming into his own, and they weren’t quite as stretched as at the beginning of the summer. If he spoke to Stan tonight, without saying why he had to swap, he could go to Portsmouth and see this mysterious patient for himself. The hospital would gladly let him in as a friend of Alfie’s family, and he could do Ron a favour and bring along some extra food and clothes for his brother. He just had to plan it well, keep his nerve and not reveal to anyone else what was going on.

  ‘You’re quiet tonight, Billy,’ Joe remarked as they rounded the corner to Jeeves Street. ‘Something on your mind?’

  Billy came to with a jolt. He’d almost fallen at the first fence. They mustn’t suspect a thing. ‘No, no, just a bit tired,’ he said as convincingly as he could, with a pang of guilt as Kathleen looked admiringly at him.

  ‘You shouldn’t have gone out of your way, you should have gone straight home,’ she admonished him gently.

  ‘Not a bit, I’m glad of the walk,’ he insisted. ‘Anyway, I’ll just have a quick word with Stan about some shift problems and then I’ll be off.’

  ‘If you say so,’ she said dubiously, and Billy’s heart beat faster at the secret he was keeping, but knowing he absolutely could not say one word about it.

>   Alice’s mind was distracted with memories of Joe as she made her way along Dalston Lane the next morning, pushing her bike, so that she didn’t see the child in front of her until they almost bumped into each other.

  ‘Blimey! I thought you was going to run me over then,’ the little girl exclaimed crossly. ‘You got to look where yer going, that’s what me gran always tells me.’

  With a start, Alice realised who it was. It was one of the pupils she’d met at the local school when she’d been co-opted into teaching them to clean their teeth properly. ‘Pauline! I haven’t seen you for ages. How are you?’

  Pauline scuffed her feet against the dusty pavement. ‘All right, I suppose. Me little brother’s being a proper nuisance, so I’d rather be out here on me own.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘I’ve grown since you last saw me, Nurse, so can I have a go on your bike this time? Me legs are bound to be long enough by now.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘Sorry, Pauline, but I don’t think so. You’ll have to do a lot more growing yet. Besides, it’s not for playing on. It’s to get me from place to place for work.’

  ‘Is that where you’re going now?’ the girl asked.

  ‘Yes, I should be on my way.’ But Alice couldn’t go without asking the question she always felt obliged to put to the child. ‘Has your gran changed her mind about taking you away from London to somewhere safer?’

  Pauline gave her a look of derision. ‘She ain’t ever goin’ to do that, Nurse. She’s stayin’ put, and she don’t hardly go out no more cos her leg ulcers are givin’ her gyp. Anyway, you heard her before. She says we’ll stay exactly where we are and beat the Jerries and that’s all there is to it.’

  Alice nodded as it was the answer she had expected. ‘Well, you know if she does decide it would be best to leave, then you can always come to me. I could find someone to help you, you know.’

  ‘Thanks, Nurse, but we won’t be needing no help,’ Pauline said matter-of-factly. ‘This is where we belong, see. That’s all there is to it.’

  Alice knew that plenty of families had returned after agreeing to be evacuated last year, as the expected gas attacks had not taken place. But, with the battle raging in the skies overhead, and the threat of invasion looming, she was far from convinced they were right. Yet she could not force them to change their minds. All she could do was keep stressing that she was there to turn to if needed. ‘I’d best be going. It was good to see you, Pauline,’ she said, and smiled as the girl gave her a cheeky wave before running off. Trundling her bike along, she reflected she really had better watch where she was going and concentrate, rather than thinking ahead to her evening with Joe.

  It took Bridget several minutes to realise that she was lost yet again in the warren of terraced streets that all looked the same to her. So many near-identical houses, their window panes taped against possible bombing, stared back at her. She’d been so sure she was headed in the right direction and that she would recognise the house when she saw it. She had been there before but had approached it from another route. ‘You can’t miss it,’ Alice had told her that first time. ‘It’s just off Cricketfield Road, behind the pub on the corner.’ That had been easy. So where on earth was she now?

  Two dead ends and one very dingy alley later, she finally caught sight of the pub, and knew she was in the right area. Now she had made herself late, despite having eaten an early breakfast. That was exactly what she hadn’t wanted. Everyone knew that you had to treat diabetic patients as early in the morning as possible as they could not have their own breakfasts until half an hour after the nurse’s visit.

  Bridget did not like to admit that she was nervous. She tried to tell herself that there was no reason to be; this was a procedure she had performed many times when she’d worked in the big hospital on the outskirts of Dublin, and also when undertaking her district nurse training. Of course in both those situations she had had somebody else alongside her, whom she could turn to for help if needed. Not that she ever had; it was just that knowing the help was at hand made it all so much easier.

  She didn’t know if it was dreading the visit that had made her lose her way, or if losing her way had made her more nervous about the visit. ‘Chicken and egg, chicken and egg,’ she muttered as she dismounted her bike and secured it to a lamppost. The fact remained, she did not enjoy giving insulin injections. They were the bane of her life.

  Taking a deep breath, and willing her face to appear confident and friendly, she knocked on her patient’s door. Millicent Gates opened it at once, ushering her inside with no fuss, as befitted a woman who had had to become used to welcoming nurses into her home on a regular basis. Bridget noted how Millicent had little embarrassment when she needed to check her urine for sugar levels, how the woman simply got on with what had become a normal part of her day. She then began to prepare her delayed breakfast while Bridget wrote up her results and readied the syringe. The wireless was on, with a cheerful woman’s voice instructing housewives on how best to cook vegetables, scrubbing but not peeling them to ensure maximum nutrition. Bridget realised it must be ‘The Kitchen Front’, which some of the nurses had on during breakfast themselves.

  She hoped that Millicent had not noticed her agitation and willed her hands not to shake as she entered today’s figures on the report. She knew it was her duty to project an image of calm, but sometimes she felt anything but. No wonder: new city, new country, new colleagues, and a whole different way of working. Even if most of the elements were those she knew backwards, the fact that she was performing them on her own, on the district, in people’s homes with nobody else watching, made her want to gasp aloud at the weight of responsibility. Didn’t they know she was just Bridget O’Doyle, originally from Kilkenny, fourth of five children and often told by her teachers she’d never make anything of her life? How come she was now in charge of such serious matters as the health and well-being of so many inhabitants of north-east London? Sometimes the impossibility of it made her wake at night.

  She hadn’t told anyone, not even Ellen, whom she’d met in their first week of training at the Dublin hospital. As far as she could tell, her friend suffered from no such nerves. She had settled into working on the district as if she had been born to it: loving the visits to different houses; always coming back with an anecdote about the way a patient had arranged their furniture or planted their garden, eager to swap stories. Bridget had tried to oblige, but often the details escaped her, as she was focusing so intently on doing everything right.

  Millicent appeared not to have spotted anything different about today’s nurse, as she pottered about, sorting her cutlery in its painted drawer, wiping the countertop with a dishcloth, humming along to a tune now on the wireless. ‘My nephew came the other day,’ she began, and Bridget nodded, as if she was paying full attention to the small talk. ‘He helped me with my Anderson shelter, I don’t know how I’d have managed without him, he’s very kind to his old auntie.’

  ‘That’s grand,’ said Bridget, hoping that a short reply would be enough.

  ‘Oh yes, he’s always been like that,’ said Millicent, and happily related a tale of what the boy had been like when at school. Bridget made the right noises in the right places, but really she was counting the seconds until she had to do the inevitable.

  ‘Right,’ she said brightly, ‘shall we have your injection now?’

  Millicent agreed readily, putting aside her dishcloth and rolling up the sleeve of her housecoat.

  Bridget took a deep breath and prepared the syringe, carefully tapping it and then inserting the needle, smoothly and swiftly. ‘There you are. All done until the next time.’

  Millicent rolled her sleeve down again. ‘I don’t know how you nurses do it,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You’re so calm and steady. I never even think about it nowadays, and it barely hurts at all. You do wonders, all of you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Bridget, gathering her paraphernalia together. ‘All part of the service.’

  Millicent sh
ook her head. ‘It’s far from nothing to me. I couldn’t manage without you. It’s thanks to you I can lead a normal life. Still,’ she gave Bridget a smile, ‘I bet you were nervous the first time you did one of those! I bet your hands were shaking!’

  Bridget almost let out a high-pitched laugh. If only Millicent knew the truth. She was heartily relieved that the woman evidently hadn’t guessed. She had to maintain her confident front. ‘They probably were,’ she said lightly. ‘Now, have you got some sugar put by in case of an emergency? Excellent. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?’

  ‘Very true, Nurse, very true.’ Millicent followed her the short distance down the rather worn but immaculately clean hall. ‘Will I see you tomorrow, or will it be one of the other girls?’

  ‘I expect it will be one of my colleagues,’ Bridget replied, trying to keep the relief out of her voice. ‘But I might see you next week.’

  Millicent beamed as Bridget freed her bike and got on it. ‘I shall look forward to that. I know I’m in safe hands with you, Nurse.’

  Bridget set her foot on the pedal in readiness. ‘You get in and enjoy your breakfast, and sorry again for keeping you waiting,’ she said as she pushed off.

  ‘Thank you for everything!’ Millicent called, waving as Bridget started back down the small street.

  Bridget exhaled deeply as she rounded the corner back on to Cricketfield Road. She’d done it, the sort of visit she dreaded the most. At least the next patient was a simple case of changing a dressing to a minor burn. Not too much to go wrong there. Then a case of suspected rickets. She could manage that.

  Bridget hoped that after a while she would get used to the pattern of work, and laugh off the mistakes while learning from them in the way the others seemed to do. Mary would often recount how she got so lost in her first weeks that she ended up all the way up in Tottenham and had had to call on the nurses’ home there to get advice about finding her way back. Bridget would have been mortified to admit such a thing. Surely that would make her seem incompetent and then they would doubt everything else that she did? Yet nobody thought that about Mary.