Homecoming

by Ellie Dean

  The morning flashed past as she dressed ulcerated legs and bathed the elderly patients who couldn’t do it for themselves. She attended the ante-natal clinic straight after a lunch of Spam sandwiches, and once it was over, approached Sister Higgins.

  ‘I am sorry to make things difficult for you, Florence,’ she began hesitantly. ‘But would it be all right if I took back my notice and stayed on?’

  Florence’s broad face broke into a beaming smile. ‘Oh, my dear. You don’t have to apologise. Of course you can stay. I’m just so relieved you aren’t going back to Poland. Dr Sayers and I were very worried about you.’ She regarded Danuta fondly. ‘What changed your mind?’

  ‘I realised that this is my home now. I have Peggy and Ron, and work that I love. It seemed to me to be very foolish to leave when I have so many things here to be grateful for.’

  Florence threw her arms about her and held her to her generous bosom. ‘Dear Danuta, I’m so very happy you’re staying – and I know Peggy and all your patients will be too. You’ve become an important part of our lives, and we really didn’t want to lose you.’

  Danuta enjoyed being cuddled by Florence, for it was like being embraced within layers of soft cushions, but still shy of such strong emotions, she gently disentangled herself. ‘Did you read my report on Mrs Wilson?’ she asked, straightening her cap.

  ‘Yes, and you did very well, Danuta. It was a tricky one, and not always resulting in a happy ending. I’ve seen the trick with the cold water done once before, although I doubt the powers that be would approve. Still, if it works when nothing else has, it’s definitely worth a try – as you proved.’

  ‘I am hoping to visit Mrs Wilson later to see how she and the babies are doing.’

  ‘There’s no need, dear. I went in early this morning. Mrs Wilson is blooming, as is baby Daniel, and little Evie is safe in an incubator and expected to pull through as long as she doesn’t get an infection.’

  ‘Peggy will go to see Mr Wilson tonight to make sure he’s managing,’ said Danuta, packing away her instruments. ‘But I think he knows he must cope and will do his best.’

  Florence sighed. ‘Yes, the poor man isn’t capable of much and was turned down for enlistment on medical grounds. His nerves, I believe. But by all accounts he’s a wizard when it comes to Cliffehaven’s gardens, and the council know they’re jolly lucky to have him. He planted the carpet gardens, you know – the ones on the bomb site of the Grand Hotel. Lovely, they are. You should take time to go and see them while they’re still at their best.’

  Promising that she would, Danuta finished helping to clear away everything before setting off on her bicycle for her final two house calls. She felt lighter in spirit now she’d decided to stay, and the sun seemed to bring out the colours more vividly in the window boxes and small gardens. Yes , she thought. I’ve made the right decision – but I still have to tell Rachel and Solly .

  Rachel and Solly Goldman lived at Starlings, a large house set back from the main road which led out of Cliffehaven and over the hill towards the next town. It wasn’t as far away as the Memorial Hospital, but it was far enough, and the hill steep enough to leave Danuta fighting for breath that early evening as she reached the imposing gateway set into a high rhododendron hedge.

  She waited to catch her breath before opening the gate and wheeling her bicycle along the neat brick path lined with pretty red flowers that led to the front porch which was smothered in roses and clematis. She loved this house, and never tired of drinking in its tranquil atmosphere.

  Starlings had given temporary shelter to numerous Jewish refugee children who’d been sent to England when it became clear they wouldn’t be safe in Europe, and both Solly and Rachel still kept in touch with them. The house was old and rambling, with whitewashed walls and dark beams beneath a thatched roof. The diamond-paned windows glinted in the late afternoon sun, and the heady scent of roses and clambering honeysuckle filled the still, warm air. Lawns as smooth and green as billiard tables stretched to the hedged boundaries on three sides, and the flower bed borders were positively bursting with colour.

  Danuta could hear the busy humming of the bees as they flitted in and out of the flowers, and she stopped to watch some goldfinches swoop down to eat from the bird table, or splash in the ornate basin held in the hands of a stone nymph. She gave a deep sigh of pleasure. It was truly a paradise, and she could have sat in this garden for hours, dreaming away the day in these peaceful surroundings.

  She reluctantly pulled the black metal rod by the door which rang a bell in the hall, and breathed in the fragrance of the cascade of pink roses which rambled over the porch.

  ‘Hello, Danuta,’ said Rachel, looking cool and svelte in a cream linen dress and strappy sandals. ‘We were expecting to see you after Peggy visited this morning. Come in, my dear. We’re in the back garden as it’s such a lovely evening. Have you eaten? Would you like a drink?’

  Danuta smiled, for Rachel was the consummate hostess, always worrying that her guests didn’t have enough food or drink. ‘I will eat at Beach View later,’ she replied. ‘But a drink would be welcome after tackling that hill.’

  ‘Of course, of course. Everything is waiting outside.’ Rachel touched Danuta’s arm and drew her to a standstill in the large, galleried hall. ‘Solly has been in a terrible mood all day, but I think I have persuaded him against going. The letter from the Foreign Office was the clincher, really. But it will do no harm for you to dissuade him.’

  She regarded Danuta sharply. ‘You have decided not to go, haven’t you?’

  Danuta nodded. ‘Reluctantly, it seems wise.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’ Rachel put her arm around Danuta’s shoulder and steered her gently through the hall into the elegant drawing room which had French doors leading out to a terrace overlooking the sweep of the back garden. ‘Just tell him straight, Danuta,’ she murmured. ‘Then he can’t argue.’

  Danuta smiled at that, for Solly could argue black was white if he put his mind to it.

  ‘Look who’s here, Solly,’ said Rachel cheerfully.

  He turned his great head and eyed Danuta with all the welcome of a bad-tempered bulldog before he got to his feet. ‘I suppose you’ve come to bully me too,’ he stated.

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘I’ve come to tell you I’ve changed my mind and will be staying here.’

  ‘I see,’ he muttered. ‘So Peggy got to you too, did she?’

  ‘It was entirely my decision,’ she said firmly. ‘And after hearing about that letter from the Foreign Office, I have concluded it was the correct one.’ She sat down in one of the wicker chairs and Rachel handed her a tall glass tinkling with ice.

  ‘A gin and tonic,’ said Rachel, shooting a glance at her husband. ‘Works wonders on tired bodies and bad tempers.’ She raised her glass. ‘L’chaim .’

  Solly joined in the toast to life, then plumped down into the cushions of the sturdy wicker chair and glowered at the beautiful garden. ‘Who is this man Peggy talks about? The Pole who put these ideas in your head, Danuta?’

  ‘He’s just someone I met at Rita’s wedding,’ she replied lightly. ‘And it seems he was right to warn me if that letter from the Foreign Office is anything to go by.’

  ‘Hmph.’ He took a long draught of his drink, and then placed the empty glass on the table for Rachel to replenish. ‘We will all go back one day, Danuta. That’s a promise.’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘But until then we must give thanks for the beauty of this home we have here, and for the people who love us.’ She smiled at him. ‘Is it not said by the Jewish people that when we are no longer able to change the situation, we are challenged to change ourselves?’

  Solly nodded. ‘Everything can be taken from a man but one thing – the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s own way.’ He smiled, bringing warmth to his dark brown eyes. ‘You are wise for one so young,’ he said softly.

  She smiled back at him with great affection. ‘I have a
very old soul.’

  7

  Doris had had a rather splendid day, and if it hadn’t been for Michael’s nasty letter burning a hole in her handbag, it would have been perfect.

  She returned to her bungalow in Ladysmith Close, and decided to try her new hat on once more before going next door to check on John. He’d been resting when she’d popped in at lunchtime, and seemed quite cheerful as he’d told her to enjoy her shopping trip and not rush back, so she was taking him at his word.

  Doris lifted the hat from its box and carefully placed it just so on her head. Turning this way and that she gave a little sigh of satisfaction. The hat was navy with a broad cream ribbon tied in a bow at the side of the crown, and edging the wide brim, and as her cream dress and coat were piped with navy, it was just perfect. She had hoped Sally would make her wedding outfit, but she’d been so busy, Doris had been forced to find someone else, but the woman had proved to be most proficient, and Doris had been delighted with the result when she’d gone for her final fitting.

  She returned the hat to its box and placed it on top of her wardrobe, eager now to see John and tell him all about her successful day – although she wasn’t looking forward to showing him Michael’s letter. Changing into more comfortable shoes and slipping on a cardigan, she went into her kitchen and collected the bowl of raspberries and the Woolton pie she’d made this morning for their supper and carried it next door.

  John was in the sitting room, a sulky fire smouldering in the hearth, his face ashen and lined with pain. ‘Hello, my love,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, but I can’t get up. The pills seem to have worn off.’

  Doris quickly put the pie in the oven and hunted out the pills. Fetching a glass of water, she went back to him. ‘I really do think I should call the doctor again,’ she said fretfully. ‘There must be something he can do to get you right.’

  John swallowed the pills and gave a sigh. ‘There isn’t really,’ he replied. ‘I damaged my back in the trenches shortly before the end of the First War. The medic got the shrapnel out, but the muscles around the spine were never quite the same, and when they go into spasm, I’m as helpless as a kitten.’

  ‘Oh, John. I so wish there was something I could do to help.’

  ‘A cup of tea would go down a treat, if you wouldn’t mind, my dear, and once these pills kick in, I’m sure I’ll be right as rain.’ He caught her hand and smiled. ‘Have you had a good day, my darling?’

  ‘I’ll get that tea and then tell you all about it,’ she said, kissing his brow before hurrying into the kitchen.

  She hated seeing him brought so low with the pain, for John was a vibrant, energetic man when he was well, and the knowledge that the letter she had to show him would do nothing to raise his spirits made her hesitate. She eyed the gas ring on the cooker, wondering if she should just burn the damned thing and pretend it had never arrived – and then was forced to accept she wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt, so made the tea and carried it on a tray into the sitting room.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said brightly, setting the tray down on a low table between the fireside chairs. ‘I’ve put a Woolton pie in the oven for our supper, and there are fresh raspberries from the garden with evaporated milk for dessert.’

  He regarded her lovingly, his blue eyes brighter now the pain was being alleviated. ‘I could get used to being spoilt,’ he teased. ‘So, tell me about your day. Was there much to do in the office? And how did you get on at the shops and with Rosie?’

  ‘I brought a couple of letters I need you to look through before I reply to them,’ she said, opening her handbag and handing them over. ‘And there was a private letter addressed to me,’ she added hesitantly as she drew it out.

  ‘To you?’ he asked with a frown.

  Doris nodded. ‘It wasn’t a very pleasant letter, but I don’t want you getting upset, John, because I’ve had the day to think about it, and have accepted there’s really no point in worrying over something I can’t resolve.’

  His frown deepened. ‘Who’s been writing you unpleasant letters, Doris? Let me see.’

  ‘It’s from Michael,’ she replied, still holding back from giving it to him. ‘He’s turned down our invitation to the wedding.’

  ‘I rather expected he would,’ said John. ‘But there’s no call for unpleasantness. Let me see that.’

  Doris reluctantly handed it over and waited with bated breath as he scanned the hostile short note.

  ‘I see,’ he murmured, folding it back into the envelope. ‘I apologise profusely for my son’s lack of good manners, Doris, and I’m extremely sorry you had to read that.’ He slowly and deliberately tore the letter to shreds and threw the pieces onto the fire. ‘I think that’s the best place for it, don’t you?’

  Doris bit her lip as she nodded. She could tell that despite his brave words he was deeply hurt by his son’s rejection, and that although the letter was now burning to ashes, the message would remain with him for a long time. ‘I’m so sorry I had to show you that,’ she said quietly. ‘But I knew I couldn’t hide it from you.’

  ‘Perhaps that was what he’d been hoping for when he sent it to you personally,’ said John bitterly. ‘He knows I hate secrets, and it would have driven a wedge between us if you hadn’t been honest about it.’

  ‘I know.’ She poured the tea and lit them both cigarettes, deeply thankful she’d followed her instincts and not destroyed that letter. ‘Apart from that, I’ve had a very productive day,’ she said, changing the subject.

  He smiled. ‘You found a hat?’

  ‘I did indeed,’ she replied, glad to see him smile again. ‘And you’ll see it on Saturday – not before. My outfit is almost ready and looks very smart, and I managed to book an appointment at Julie’s to get my hair and nails done on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Clever girl,’ he said fondly, the smile almost banishing the lines of pain and weariness from his handsome face. ‘And how did you get on at the bank and with Rosie?’

  ‘Rather well, as it happens,’ she replied with a touch of smugness. ‘I spoke to the man at the estate agency to get some idea of how much the bungalow is worth and, armed with this information, I was able to talk to the bank manager about a mortgage. He was quite agreeable to me taking out a loan as you own your bungalow outright, and I’m working full-time, and as it isn’t for a large amount, he suggested a short-term mortgage with repayments that I can easily manage.’

  ‘Goodness, you have been busy,’ he said. ‘How much will you be borrowing, Doris? I don’t want you getting into debt.’

  ‘The bungalow is worth about two hundred and fifty pounds on the open market, but I’m borrowing three hundred so we can have the work done to turn the two places into one.’

  ‘And how did Rosie react to this idea?’

  ‘She thought it was very sensible in the circumstances, and agreed to the offer of two hundred and twenty-five pounds.’ Doris grinned. ‘Oh, John, I know it will mean a lot of mess and turning things upside down, but when it’s finished, we’ll have the finest house in the road.’

  ‘We will indeed,’ he replied on a chuckle. ‘Now, you’re not to worry about the mortgage repayments, I’ll help with those, and any extra work that might need doing to turn the two bungalows into a proper house. Why, we might even think about converting the attic into a large double bedroom, bathroom and dressing room. What would you think to that?’

  Doris was aglow with happiness as she softly kissed his lips. ‘It will all be wonderful as long as we’re together, John.’

  ‘Indeed it will, dear heart,’ he murmured, ‘and I can hardly wait for Saturday.’

  Sarah returned alone to Beach View late that Monday night to find Peggy and Cordelia alone in the kitchen listening to the wireless. ‘Gosh, you’re up late,’ she said, dumping her numerous shopping bags on the table.

  ‘We’ve been celebrating Danuta’s decision not to go to Poland,’ said Cordelia. ‘She’s exhausted, poor lamb, so has gone to bed.’ She rega
rded her great-niece over her half-moon glasses. ‘Where’s your sister?’

  ‘Jane’s staying on in London to spend time with Jeremy before we leave for Singapore,’ said Sarah, taking off her hat and jacket. ‘He’s off to Washington soon, so they won’t have much chance of being together for a long while.’

  ‘It comes to something when you young girls gad about without the benefit of a wedding ring on your finger,’ huffed Cordelia. ‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to.’

  ‘You look tired, Sarah,’ said Peggy, who rather agreed with Cordelia, but kept her own counsel. ‘Come and sit down and have a sherry. There’s still a drop in the bottle.’

  Sarah kicked off her shoes, sat down and gratefully accepted the glass of sherry. ‘I feel as if I’ve walked the entire length and breadth of London,’ she said after taking a sip. ‘My poor feet are killing me.’

  Peggy smiled as she glanced at the shopping bags. ‘But it seems you’ve bought up half of London, too, so it must have been worth it.’

  ‘None of it is very exciting,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s not as if we’re going on a pleasure cruise.’ She wriggled her stockinged feet and gave a sigh. ‘The temperature in Singapore will be in the mid-eighties and probably quite humid, so I’ve stocked up on cotton underwear and night things, a couple of lightweight day dresses, a linen skirt and two cotton blouses. I found a very nice pair of sunglasses and managed to get some make-up in Harrods. Anything else I need can be bought there.’

  ‘So you’re all set then,’ said Cordelia.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ she replied, ‘but to be honest, I’m not really looking forward to it.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising,’ said Peggy. ‘Neither of you know what you’ll be faced with, and the place is bound to have been changed beyond all recognition after the Japs took it over.’