by Anna King
Tears sprang to Doris’s eyes, and with an angry, impatient gesture she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Watching her friend’s distress, Emily felt her own eyes begin to moisten. In all the years she had known her, Emily had never seen Doris so vulnerable, so unsure of herself, as she did now. Reaching over the table, she took hold of the trembling hand.
‘Oh, Doris, I never knew, I never even guessed. I mean, all these years, you and Andy and Tommy… Well, you’ve all been like sister and brothers to me. And I thought you all felt the same way.’ When the hand was pulled roughly from her grasp, she felt as if Doris had reached out and slapped her.
Taking another long swallow of her drink, Doris shuddered. Seeing the look of hurt on Emily’s face, she gave a watery smile.
‘Don’t worry, Em, it’s not your fault,’ she smiled bravely. ‘I just thought… Well, hoped, really, that maybe as he’s going off to France in a couple of days, he might… you know, suddenly see me as more than just a friend and fall madly in love with me.’ Her voice had taken on a deprecatory tone, but the self-mockery only served to make Emily feel even more guilty. And Doris’s next words almost brought her leaping from her chair.
‘I always was a stupid cow. I mean, what bloke’s going ter give me a second look with you around? Even two like Andy and Tommy, who might be going off ter get themselves killed, don’t want ter spend their last couple of nights in the arms of someone like me…Oh, sod it!’ With a still shaking hand Doris picked up her drink, but such was her distress that the glass bumped against her teeth, spilling a few drops of the gin down the front of her royal blue coat.
‘Oh, Doris, don’t… Please, don’t run yourself down like this. Here, take my handkerchief, you can…’ Conscious of an enquiring look from two middle-aged women sitting behind them, Emily said icily, ‘Yes! Can I help you?’ Whereupon the two women bridled indignantly, snorted a muffled rejoinder and returned their attention to their drinks.
‘Oh, Em. I wish I could do that.’ Doris was laughing quietly through her tears. ‘I swear yer could bring a charging lion to a halt with one of your looks, and so polite as well. Your posh voice is more effective than my common one. I can never argue without swearing.’
‘Rubbish!’ Emily answered self-consciously, relieved to see that Doris was outwardly back to her old self. But behind the smiles Emily knew that her friend was hurting inside. Doris’s unexpected revelation had only served to remind Emily just how much she had become estranged from her old life and her friends. If she had been living at home and working in a factory or shop, she would have known how Doris was feeling. Yet would she be happy working in either of those places? Especially now, after all these years of being her own boss, even if she was overworked and underpaid. And wasn’t she secretly proud of her education and of mixing with the gentry, even if it was in the capacity of a servant?
The years spent with the Winters had given Emily a confidence and a maturity that she would never have achieved working in a factory, or as a counter assistant in one of the large department stores. But never in a thousand years would she even have considered working in a munitions factory. Yet perhaps, if she had been at home, she might have dissuaded Doris from doing so. She was deeply worried for the safety of her life-long friend. The dangers of working with TNT were one of the worst-kept secrets in England. But the powers that be had no cause to worry, not while girls and women like Doris, filled with patriotic convictions, continued to risk their health – and, in some cases, their lives – to keep the wheels of the war machinery rolling.
Oh, dear, this silent meditating was making her head spin. What with the worry for her mother, and now Doris and the Carter twins to be added to her list of problems to be resolved, Emily was beginning to wish she’d stayed where she was. She needed to talk things out properly with Doris; they both did. But not here, where their conversation could be overheard. Bending her head forward she said, ‘Look, Doris, we need to talk, but not here. How about you staying the night at my house, though we’d have to sleep in the parlour? But I don’t mind if you don’t.’ Seeing the doubtful expression on Doris’s face, she urged quietly, ‘Please, Doris, it’ll be like old times. What do you say?’
Under the pretence of blowing her nose, Doris sniffed loudly before saying, ‘Yeah, all right, as long as me dad don’t mind being on his own all night. But only if yer dad ain’t home. No offence, Em. Your mum might not mind getting a belting, but I ain’t that keen on being near a bloke too handy with his fists.’
The insensitive, cruel remark only served to remind Emily that Doris was still angry and looking for a chance to lash out at someone. Well, it wasn’t going to be her! Her face set in anger, Emily glared at the young woman opposite her.
‘That was a bit nasty, wasn’t it, Doris? It was also uncalled for.’ Emily seemed to be grinding out each word with extreme caution. The last thing she wanted was to fall out with her best friend, and if the remark had been directed at herself, she would probably have let the matter drop. But no-one was going to have a sly dig at her mother and get away with it; not even Doris.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Doris wished with all her heart she could take them back. She was very fond of Nellie Ford. She could even say she loved the woman who had been like a mother to her, after the death of her own mother. How could she have said such a dreadful thing?
Emily watched her friend impassively. The only signs of Doris’s agitation were the nervous swallowing in her throat and her refusal to meet Emily’s accusing stare.
For something to do to fill in the awful silence, Emily rose and walked to the bar, returning with a gin for Doris and another shandy for herself. Almost before Emily had laid the glasses down, Doris picked hers up, downing the contents in one swallow.
‘Thanks, Em.’ Her voice sounded gruff, almost dismissive, but when she raised her head Emily could clearly see the remorse in Doris’s grey eyes, and immediately her own anger melted away.
When the last bell sounded, they rejoined the twins and the four of them stepped once again into the cold street, heading for the nearest fish and chip shop. Their arms filled with their supper wrapped in newspapers, the four young people made their way to Fenton Street, laughing and teasing each other playfully as if they hadn’t a care in the world. As they turned off the main road and into their street, their laughter suddenly faded, then stopped altogether. The street was filled with their neighbours, mainly women standing in small groups, their heads and shoulders covered with thick shawls against the cold night air. Through a gap in the crowd Emily saw the white ambulance, and for a moment her heart seemed to stop in her breast. One of the women turned, saw Emily and the others, and began walking towards them. But even before the woman reached the silent group, Emily had bounded away, her legs pumping wildly, her chest heaving and her mind praying over and over again: Not my mum… Please, God, not my mum.
Chapter Seven
The semi-darkened ward was hushed in silence, save for intermittent coughing from the patients tossing restlessly in the single brass beds that flanked both sides of the long room.
At the top end of the ward the night Sister, seated behind her desk, was studying her patients’ charts by the soft glow of a table lamp. Every now and then she looked up, her eyes going to the second-from-last bed at the end of the ward, and to the couple who sat in silence on either side of the narrow hospital bed.
When the last chart had been read, she pushed her chair back quietly, picked up the lamp and walked softly across the wooden floor, stopping at each bed to ensure that the occupant was sleeping soundly. Her years of practice made her progress silent, before she stopped at the only bed that still had its wall light on.
‘Why don’t you go home and get some rest?’ she murmured, her gaze directed at the young woman holding the hand of her mother, her shoulders slumped in weariness. ‘I understand you wanting to stay, but really, there’s nothing you can do at the moment. What your mother nee
ds most is rest, and the best way you can help her is to get some yourself, otherwise you’ll be of no use to her at all.’
When no answer came she looked at the young soldier seated on the other side of the bed. ‘Could you talk some sense into her?’ she appealed quietly to the dark-haired man. ‘If there was some good to be had from her being here, I would say so. But, given the amount of morphine she’s had, Mrs Ford is going to be asleep for quite some time. So there’s nothing to be gained by sitting here on a hard chair, when you could both be tucked up warm in your beds.’
Tommy glanced up at the Sister, his normally cheerful countenance sombre, his eyes and body heavy with fatigue. He was sitting with the top half of his body bent forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped as if in prayer.
‘I’ll see if I can talk her into going home,’ he said quietly. ‘But I can’t promise it’ll do any good, she’s…’
‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,’ Emily’s voice cut into Tommy’s words. Shifting slightly on the hard wooden chair, she turned her head to look up at the ward Sister. ‘She is going to be all right, isn’t she? I mean, I know the doctor said there was no serious damage done, and all she needed was rest, but, I mean… Well, look at her, she… She looks dreadful.’ The last words ended on a sob, but even as Tommy started to rise from his chair to comfort her, she straightened her shoulders, gave a very unladylike sniff and in a more composed voice said, ‘If you can give me your word that my mother is in no immediate danger, then I’ll do as you say and go home and get some rest.’
Sister May looked down into the deep blue intelligent eyes and nodded.
‘I give you my word, Miss Ford. Your mother has taken a terrible beating,’ she saw the young woman flinch before lowering her head. ‘But as far as the doctors can tell, there’s no permanent damage to any of her internal organs.’ The Sister hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should ask if there was a likelihood of the same thing happening again, before rejecting the idea out of hand. Mrs Ford was only one of the many hundreds of women who were daily beaten up by their spouses. The more severe cases ended up in hospital. Their husbands would invariably turn up, looking suitably sheepish, some clasping a bunch of cheap flowers, thinking that their gesture would show them in a better light to the hospital staff. And the women would look delighted and let themselves be taken home by the very men who had put them in hospital in the first place.
She had seen the same thing happen so many times that she should be immune to it by now. But she wasn’t, and never would be. How could these women let themselves be abused without retaliation, knowing full well that another beating was inevitable, once their husbands’ initial shame disappeared? She had long since given up trying to understand, but she could never get used to it.
Emily stood up slowly and stretched her aching back. She had lost track of the time, but knew it must be the early hours of the morning. Quietly thanking the Sister for her kindness, she let herself be led down the long, eerily silent ward by Tommy.
Once outside Hackney Hospital they both shivered, their bodies involuntarily coming together in a bid to keep warm.
‘What time is it?’ Emily asked, her teeth chattering with the cold. Pulling up the wide collar of his overcoat round his ears, Tommy placed a protective arm around Emily’s shoulders and looked at his watch under the pale amber light of a street lamp.
‘It’s just after three. You should be able to get a good few hours’ sleep before going back. Lucky it’s not too far to walk home, though in this cold, it’ll probably seem longer.’
As they began the walk home, Emily leant her head against the scratchy material of Tommy’s overcoat and said tiredly, ‘It was very good of you to stay with me, Tommy. Especially now, when you’ve so little time left at home, but I am grateful. It made it easier somehow, you being there.’
Tommy hugged Emily closer to him and gave a short laugh. ‘Give over, Em. You make it sound like you’ve dragged me away from a good old knees-up. I’d only have been at home asleep. Besides, what are mates for, eh?’
Emily smiled up at the handsome face. She could see why Doris loved him; he was very lovable, was Tommy Carter, though his next words drove the smile from her face.
‘Look, Em,’ he started awkwardly, ‘I know it’s none of me business, but… well, what are yer going to do about your dad? Yer mum can’t keep taking beatings like that. Why, the poor thing can’t weigh more than six stone at the most, an’ once yer go back ter work, she’ll have no protection, ’cos, Lenny, as big as he is, can’t do much. He…’
‘’Ere, d’yer want a lift, mate?’
Tommy and Emily turned eagerly at the sound of the rough cockney voice. A large van, piled high with fruit and vegetables, had pulled up beside them.
‘We wouldn’t mind, mate, thanks,’ Tommy said gratefully. ‘If yer could drop us off at the Kenton pub, that’d be a great help.’
‘Right yer are then. Come on, jump in the pair of yer. It’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but it ain’t that far ter go.’
Quickly walking round to the passenger side of the van, Tommy got in first, then pulled Emily up beside him. On the short journey Tommy and the driver chatted like old friends, with Tommy telling the man about the friend they’d been visiting in hospital, while Emily sat pressed tightly against the door of the van, thankful that this cheerful man didn’t probe the reason why this friend was being visited at this ungodly hour of the morning.
Her thoughts turned to Lenny, as she wondered where he had got to. He certainly couldn’t have returned home in her absence. If he had, then somebody would have told him what had happened, and he would have been up at the hospital like a shot. More than likely he had run off again. But this time his absence was for the best, for all concerned, because there was no telling how Lenny would react if he saw the brutalised state of his beloved mother. He might very well turn tail and flee, unable to deal with the horrific sight of his mother’s injuries; or the sickening revelation of his father’s cowardly action might be the catalyst that turned him from a timid young boy into a raging, vengeful stranger, hell-bent on seeking revenge for the horrendous beating of his defenceless mother.
Despite Emily’s earlier thoughts on the subject, now that there was a chance that Lenny would finally turn on his father, she found herself sickened at the image that her mind threw up. It would be tantamount to winding a child up into a rage, then putting a sharp knife into his hand. And once the rage and bloodlust had subsided, what then? Emily shivered and silently dismissed the notion from her mind. Her father would pay for what he had done, but not at the hands of his innocent son. If there was any retribution to be meted out – and there would be – she would be the one to make sure that Alfie Ford paid for what he had done this night. Her forehead creased with worry, Emily tried to work out how best to handle her brother when he returned from his wanderings.
Within ten minutes the van had pulled up outside the darkened doors of the Kenton. The driver, a short, middle-aged man, jumped down from his seat and ran around to open the door for Emily.
‘Thank you, it was very good of you to give us a lift,’ Emily said gratefully. And not only for the lift home, but also for cutting short the painful conversation that Tommy had started. She was too tired now to make any definite plans. For now, her best course of action was to ensure she got a good night’s sleep.
‘Thanks again, mate,’ Tommy was saying, while shaking the driver’s hand. Then, jerking his head towards the closed pub, he laughed, ‘It’s a shame they don’t stay open all night. I could just do with a drink right now.’
‘’Ere, wait a minute, son, I’ve got just the thing. ’Ang on while I get it.’
Tommy looked at Emily and shrugged.
‘’Ere yer are.’ The man had returned carrying something in his hand. ‘’Ave a drink on me, son, an’ good luck ter yer,’ he added gruffly, shoving a small bottle into Tommy’s hand.
When Tommy looked down and saw the bo
ttle of brandy, he made to give it back. ‘Oh, leave off,’ he protested. ‘I can’t take this… Here, at least let me pay yer something for it.’ As his hand went into his pockets, the man laid a restraining hand on Tommy’s arm.
‘Take it, son, please. Yer’ll be doing me a favour.’ Lowering his voice, the man gazed down at his feet and murmured, ‘Me son is over there somewhere, don’t know where. We… that is, me and the missus, we got one of them telegrams after that balls-up at the Somme. Missing in action, it said, an’ not ’eard a word since. Me missus… Well, she ain’t ‘ardly said a word since, just keeps looking out fer the postie every morning, while me…’ His shoulders lifted in despair. ‘Well, I’ve put away more of that stuff.’ he nodded towards the bottle of brandy, ‘than I care ter think abaht. So do me a favour an’ put yer money away.’
Deeply moved by the man’s story, both Tommy and Emily found themselves at a loss to know what to say. As the man went to climb back into the van, Emily ran after him and impulsively kissed his stubbled cheek, then, once more huddling herself against Tommy’s body, she waved the man goodbye and they walked off.
As Emily fumbled in her handbag for her door key, Tommy wondered if Doris and the neighbours had tidied up the place. He could still see it now – the upturned table and chairs, the smashed crockery, and Nellie Ford lying among the debris, covered in her own blood, as still as death as the ambulance men crouched down beside the limp form, before lifting her gently onto a canvas stretcher. He could still hear Emily’s screams as she’d tried to wake her mother up, and only the presence of Mrs Button had calmed Emily down, as she’d helped her up into the ambulance to accompany her mother to the hospital. He, Andy and Doris had caught the late-night tram and had waited with Emily while the doctors had seen to Nellie. After what had seemed an interminable wait, one of the doctors had assured Emily that her mother hadn’t sustained any serious injury. But Emily hadn’t believed him, and who could blame her? Even with the blood washed from her face and body, Nellie Ford had looked at death’s door.
