‘Then ask him.’ Maureen’s freckled face held a tranquillity May could only dream of possessing.
Sound advice, May thought, but on this occasion, she doubted if she’d take it. The man did rattle her – the way she couldn’t stop thinking about him. But she was grateful to Maureen all the same for being a friend and trying to help.
12
Christmas Day wasn’t the picture postcard of snow that some folk hoped for but cold and grey with a touch of fog. May stood outside the pub at Chi roundabout, dressed for the cold in a brimmed hat, ancient black ankle-length coat, and what had been Mam’s favourite fox fur stole.
Her heart rose when she saw Alec swagger down Dean Road, dressed in a dark suit whose jacket strained at the seams, collar and tie. His face, clean-shaven, held a robust radiance, and his green eyes sparkled.
‘Merry Christmas,’ she called.
‘And to you too.’ He took her arm in a masterful way and linked it with his. ‘How did you get on with the raid the other night? I worried about yi’.’
May was touched that he cared. ‘The ward took a bit of bashing but otherwise it’s business as usual.’
She didn’t want to think about the terrors that night as the sorrow of spending Christmas Day without Mam was enough to cope with.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’ He gave her hand an affectionate pat.
Alec had big hands that matched his chunky body and she could see when the wind blew his trousers against his legs that they were pleasingly muscled. She gave him a sideways glance, noticing his tilted and jutting jaw.
‘Did you have a nice dinner at your Nana’s?’ she asked.
‘Aye, it was a piece of mutton.’
‘Was there any other family there?’
‘No, why d’you ask?’
‘I’m just interested. I just wondered about your dad.’ ‘Me dad’s a miserable sod and best left alone.’
May thought it best not to pursue the conversation. ‘I opted to help serve Christmas dinner on the ward.’
May didn’t admit she’d gone without a festive meal because she wanted to keep busy so she wouldn’t think about Mam or Derek or the fact she was supposed to spend Christmas with Etty. Besides, she didn’t have anyone to sit with in the canteen.
They walked for a bit then May felt compelled to break the silence.
‘It’s me birthday next week,’ she blurted, then wondered why. She hoped he wouldn’t think she was angling for a present.
‘What day?’
‘New Year’s Eve.’
‘I’ll have to think of something special,’ he told her.
May began to babble, telling him about the Christmas card she’d received from one of the patients’ relatives.
‘It’s got a picture of a jolly Santa who’s giving a V for victory sign with his fingers.’
When he didn’t comment, May told herself to stop talking or else she’d drive the lad mad with constant nervous chatter.
They walked down the hill towards the gas works and Alec guided her through a cut into King Street, which was quiet as all the shops were closed. He disentangled his arm and, taking her by the waist, steered her into a shop doorway.
The thing was, May knew what he intended and was surprised she didn’t mind. It was lovely to engage in physical contact which she sorely missed sometimes. Even Mam, who was never the demonstrative kind, gave May the occasional hug.
As Alec bent his head to kiss her, glistening lips meeting hers, professionalism took over and Nurse Robinson became aware of hospital etiquette. She pulled away. She couldn’t be seen in a clinch like this, not in public; she’d get a formal reprimand off Matron.
‘Hawway, May, what’s up?’
‘Alec, I can’t, not here, like this. I’ll get into trouble at work if I’m seen.’
‘They don’t own you.’ He sounded peeved. ‘Anyway, it’s your day off.’
She wanted to tell him she’d enjoy intimacy with him in the right place, at the right time but the words wouldn’t roll off her tongue – May wasn’t certain this was the right time just yet.
Frustrated, he huffed from the doorway.
In nerve-racking silence, they walked on, Alec leading the way. They passed the ferry landing and as they reached the top of a blustery Ballast Hill, he stopped.
He looked out over the murky River Tyne. ‘I’ve brought you to see the view I see every day.’
As she breathed the salt sea air, May had a sense of wanting to unshackle her problems. She longed for a peace of mind she hadn’t experienced in a long while.
Below were the docks where grey painted warships of all sizes were tied up to the quayside – an unbelievable number with scarcely space between them. She marvelled at the skill of the harbour pilot who boarded ships and directed their passage from the Tyne, through the twin arms of the piers and to the sea beyond.
Cranes soared high in the sky; so too did large silver barrage balloons, their job being to make it difficult for raiders to approach and to prevent low-level air attacks.
Alec followed her gaze. ‘Aye, it’s a right bugger if one of those balloons breaks loose… it’ll wreak havoc if it hits a building, worse still if folk get in the way… like that poor sod in Sunderland… killed outright, he was.’
In May’s mind’s eye she saw the tragic scene. At the same time she wished Alec wouldn’t swear.
‘See that beauty?’ Alec pointed to a spanking clean ship below. ‘She’s the Empire Crown. She’s was built at Readhead’s shipyard. She’s a cargo ship and propelled by a triple expansion steam engine.’
May didn’t have a clue what he was talking about but smiled to humour him.
‘Aye, she’s off on her maiden voyage at the beginning of January.’ His chest expanded as if he had personally built the ship. May decided one day she’d bring Derek to see the yards, and who knew? He might fancy the shipbuilding trade – a reliable job that would last a lifetime.
His hands resting on the wall in front, Alec, like a ship’s captain, gazed out over the water as he talked of the different ships in the war and, in some cases, the fate of those unlucky enough to cross paths with an enemy torpedo. All the while, May watched a little ferry as it busily chugged across the ribbon of River Tyne.
Alec struck a match and lit a cigarette. ‘D’you still “sort of” have a boyfriend?’ he asked.
May started. She didn’t want to discuss Billy, not today, not any day. He was gone, but the fact still hadn’t sunk into her brain.
‘He died,’ she said with finality, ‘fighting for his country.’
A vein started to tick in Alec’s temple. May wondered if she’d hit a raw nerve.
‘Me job’s a reserved occupation.’ His tone was defensive. ‘I couldn’t join the forces even if I begged and pleaded. Besides, I do me bit in the Home Guard.’
Appalled that she might have offended him, May answered, ‘I’ve got enormous respect for shipyard workers. Without ships we’d never win the war.’
Alec appeared placated and, gazing towards the sea, a smile spread across his face.
‘You know what they say,’ he said cheerily, ‘anything goes in love and war.’ He turned towards May and gave her a smouldering look. ‘Despite what I said about seeing how things go between us, I’ve fallen in love with you.’
May was flabbergasted; she’d only known the lad a few weeks and she was positive she’d done everything she could to indicate that they weren’t going steady. But despite herself, when she looked into those imploring green eyes she felt a warm glow spreading over her skin.
Flummoxed and unsure what to say, she answered, ‘Oh, Alex, I need time… it’s too early for me to––’
‘Just leave it.’ A flash of irritation crossed his face.
As Alec escorted her home it started to rain, only drops at first and then a downpour. They made a dash and huddled in Binns shop doorway. May squeezed bedside him and snuggled against the warmth of his body. He plac
ed his hand at the side of her head and laid it against his chest.
‘I’m here now, to look out for you.’ His voice was husky, but he didn’t attempt a kiss.
Meeting his protective gaze, May felt safe and comforted for the first time since Mam had died.
* * *
The next week passed in a flash. There were no lectures in school but Sister Chilvers made sure the probationers were kept busy. They learnt, amongst other things, how to sterilise needles and glass syringes on the ward and set trays for a bed bath. Cookery lessons were taken in the kitchen and dietary needs were observed.
‘Some patients are incapable of eating large portions of food,’ Home Sister told them, ‘and so we must tempt them with smaller attractive meals. If one does go into the kitchen to make a light meal, abide by the rule that there’s always a nurse left on the ward.’
The next time May was on the ward, after the report was given by night staff, the food trolley arrived with breakfast for patients. The trolley was wheeled into position in the middle of the ward and the nurses, holding trays, formed a queue as Sister Jordan removed lids from aluminium food containers.
‘Nurse.’ A ladle in her hand, Sister eyed May, the first in the queue. ‘A patient is to be admitted from Casualty to the ward.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘See to it at once. And don’t forget the patient notes.’
‘No, Sister.’
‘Now, Nurse.’
Collecting her cape from the staff room, May made for the outdoors. As she hurried over the grounds, she saw a porter striding across a path in the distance. Her heart quickened but it wasn’t Richard’s tall, broad-shouldered figure, she realised. Why did the man intrigue her so? He was a conchie. May knew that even by being friendly towards him she would be playing with fire because, if she was seen fraternising with him, people would shun her too. Why then did she catch herself looking twice at every porter she passed? Huh! She didn’t care a fig about Richard Bentley, she told her pig-headed mind.
Opening the double doors, May entered Casualty department. Sister in charge, a lean woman who looked impatient with the doctor she spoke to, excused herself and approached her.
‘Men’s orthopaedic ward?’ she asked before May uttered a word.
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘Good. We need the cubicle. The patient to be admitted has multiple injuries. He was on a training flight and because of poor visibility his plane crashed as it made for the runway.’ Sister raised an eyebrow. ‘He was the only one of the crew to survive.’
She moved to a desk and handed May notes in a brown folder. ‘I’ve buzzed for a porter. The patient is in bed three. Nurse Briars will assist if you need any help.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
Sister went back to speak with the waiting doctor.
Casualty’s double doors opened and Richard walked onto the department. His sober chocolate-coloured eyes met May’s without a sign of recognition as he wheeled the trolley along the ward’s linoleum floor to bed three.
May, too, moved towards the bed. Lifting back the screen, she regarded the young man. Dried blood smeared his ashen face and his eyes were bloodshot. His head, May noticed, was swathed in sterile towels at the back. Amazingly, the flight gear he wore looked intact.
‘Hello, Nurse.’ His voice was barely audible. ‘I’ve broken my hip, so they say. But I can’t feel anything.’
Richard pulled back the screen. ‘Hello, airman.’ He wheeled the trolley alongside the bed. ‘We’re taking you to the ward,’ he said in his gentle but firm voice, ‘where you’ll be looked after by trained and expert staff.’
Why didn’t May think to say that? She had been told to talk to patients about their care, to reassure them and explain what was happening.
But still she glowered at Richard. It wasn’t his place to take over.
She spoke to the airman, who looked too young to be part of a bomber crew – in fact too young to be in the services at all. ‘We’ll put you on a trolley and then wheel you outside because the ward you’re going to isn’t part of the main hospital.’
Nurse Briars came to stand beside May. ‘Are we all ready?’ she asked. Richard and May nodded simultaneously. ‘Then cross your arms over your chest,’ she instructed the airman. When he didn’t move she did it for him. ‘One… two… three,’ she counted.
Between them they lifted the airman onto the trolley.
May picked up the notes from the locker top and started towards the exit. Richard, wheeling the trolley, followed.
Outside, the sky was a white mask, and snowflakes fell from the heavens. May took the side of the trolley to guide it down the ramp. As she did so the airman mumbled.
‘Poor lad’s talking rubbish,’ Richard said under his breath. ‘He’s probably in acute clinical shock.’
‘I didn’t know you were a medical expert.’ May tried desperately to regain the upper hand.
‘I’m not. But I know better than to let this airman get soaked in the wet.’ He pulled the blanket up under the lad’s chin.
May felt a surge of annoyance at his cheek. She retaliated by holding the notes over the top of the airman’s head.
Richard’s lips twitched in amusement. ‘It’s not a competition.’
‘Who said it was?’ May retorted, berating herself for letting the man get under her skin.
They hurried on in uneasy silence. Richard gave her a sidelong glance.
‘You didn’t suffer any lasting injuries, then… in the bombings.’
May still hadn’t thanked him and though her conscience said she should, she didn’t want to be reminded about the night she lost control, especially by a know-it-all like him.
‘Could happen to anyone,’ he surprised her by saying, ‘losing their grip for a while.’
About to retort that she hadn’t lost her grip, May hesitated because it would be a lie. And the truth was, he sounded as if he really did care.
The wind whipped the corner of the blanket from the lad’s chest. Richard let go of the trolley with one hand and gently tucked the blanket back around the airman’s upper torso. May saw that the young airman was dozing and she was suddenly struck by the thought that he had been injured while keeping folk like Richard safe in their homes.
May stiffened. Richard was a conscientious objector. But then, she reminded herself, she had decided not to judge. She felt totally mixed up: one minute she took Richard at face value and thought him a pleasant bloke whom she really liked, the next (especially when she thought of Billy and the other boys who had made the ultimate sacrifice) she felt cross and resentful.
This confusion made her snap. ‘You should know.’ As soon as she spoke the words she regretted them.
He gave her a look of hopeless disappointment. ‘Be my guest and join the others. Have a go at me.’
May remembered what Mam always said about walking in another man’s shoes.
‘Richard, I don’t know anything about you. Except you refuse to fight for king and country and—’
‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sound so pompous.’ The man gave a mocking grin. ‘It doesn’t become you.’
Huh! Who did he think he was? She blurted, ‘What your family must think, I don’t know.’
‘They think,’ he said flatly, as he approached the building’s door, ‘the same as you. That I’m a spineless coward.’
May was speechless at his answer. She didn’t know what to say. She filled the uncomfortable silence by letting go of the trolley, moving forward and opening the door.
If he wanted sympathy, May thought, the man had come to the wrong place. A mean streak May hadn’t known she possessed seized her.
She faced him. ‘I’ll be honest with you. I find it hard to think you’ll sail through this war and survive when others…’ She grappled to control her grief. This wasn’t about Richard, she realised, but Billy dying. She finished lamely, ‘…might not.’
Richard, as he wheeled the trolley into the corridor
, told her coolly, ‘My affairs are none of your damn business. But, for your information, I’ve recently served a sentence in his majesty’s prison for my beliefs.’
‘Then you must have deserved it,’ she told him.
She closed the door and removed the damp woollen blanket from the patient’s body. She was relieved the young lad was asleep and hadn’t witnessed her unprofessionalism.
May’s cheeks were burning. She was appalled at herself for allowing her emotions to rule her judgement. She shouldn’t get involved. What Richard did with his life was not her affair.
A third-year nurse met them on the ward and gestured to a bed with its top sheet rolled aside in readiness for the patient.
Patients who’d recently had surgery or needed special care were kept in beds near the ward entrance where Sister could keep an eye on them through the nurses’ station window. As a patient’s condition improved, they were shifted further up the ward until they were recovered enough to be discharged.
The airman now safely in bed, Richard folded the damp blanket and, taking hold of the end of the trolley, wheeled it towards the ward’s exit without another word.
‘Best we lift the screen around the bed,’ the third-year nurse told May.
She looked over May’s shoulder and visibly stiffened.
May, following her astonished gaze, saw the porter’s departing figure. Pinned to the back of his overall, for all to see, was a white feather.
Serves him right, was May’s first reaction, but then a wave of shame overtook her and her lenient heart bled for Richard.
13
New Year’s Eve 1943
‘You have my permission, Nurse Robinson,’ Sister Chilvers told May. ‘Put your request in the late book.’
‘I will, Sister, thank you.’
With breakfast finished at Parklands, May had waited until Valerie and the two other nurses from downstairs had vacated the dining room. Maureen had a day off and had spent the night at her parents’ home. She’d told May she wouldn’t be back until later that night.
Our Last Goodbye: An absolutely gripping and emotional World War 2 historical novel Page 13
