by Jules Wake
‘Hello, Mrs Connors.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice resonated with suspicion. ‘What do you want?’
‘We’re friends of Betty’s. Have you heard from her?’ Evelyn tried to sound bright and breezy in the face of the woman’s clear misgivings about two young women standing on her doorstep.
‘You’d best come in,’ said Mrs Connors. ‘I thought maybe she was in trouble for a minute. I forgot to phone and then, when I did remember, the post office was closed and I thought Betty wouldn’t want me going up to the house, showing her up.’ Without waiting she turned and disappeared through another doorway on the left.
Evelyn and Judith exchanged yet another glance; they seemed to have got non-verbal communication down to a fine art this morning. Evelyn, leading the way, followed Mrs Connors into a small kitchen with a wooden table at which sat a young girl who had to be Betty’s younger sister, Jane. There was a strong resemblance but she was like a duller, less lustrous version of Betty and a stark reminder of Betty’s vivacity.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ asked Mrs Connors. ‘This is my other daughter, Jane. Jane, say hello to the ladies.’
Jane stared at them, her eyes wide with wonder, and tilted her head as if trying to weigh up whether they were worth speaking to.
‘We haven’t really got time,’ apologised Evelyn. ‘We’ve got to go on shift soon. But we’re really worried about Betty. Have you heard from her?’
‘I have. You’d best sit down.’
Judith sucked in a little gasp and Evelyn put out a hand to steady her.
‘She’s … she’s all right.’ Mrs Connors’ face was grave despite her words. ‘Banged up. In hospital. I saw her last night.’
Evelyn stifled her impatience. And you didn’t think to let anyone at the house know?
Judith had less tact. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone? We’ve been worried sick.’
Mrs Connors looked genuinely surprised, as if this thought had never occurred to her.
‘Where are you from?’ She looked accusingly at Judith.
‘Poland,’ said Judith with a discreet eye roll at Evelyn. ‘What happened to Betty?’
‘Oh, it were terrible. It was an unstable building. Collapsed while she were walking by. She’s a bit banged up.’ She winced and sighed. ‘Terrible, terrible shame. I don’t know what’ll happen to her.’ Evelyn’s heart did a funny leap of fear in her chest but before she could voice the question, Mrs Connors added, ‘They said they might discharge her later today, after the doctor’s rounds at six. Although they couldn’t say for sure. If they do, she’ll be getting the train. So I guess she’ll be back at the house this evening.’
Evelyn frowned, puzzled. ‘So she can walk.’
‘Yes, she can walk just fine.’ Mrs Connors pursed her mouth and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’ll become of her, though.’
‘Is she badly hurt?’ asked Judith, clearly as confused by her mixed messages as Evelyn. Surely if she was being discharged, she couldn’t be.
‘As I said, banged up.’ She shook her head, her mouth twisting. ‘Bad business, though.’
‘Poor Betty,’ said Evelyn. ‘Which hospital is she in?’
‘St Thomas’s. Why they took her there, I don’t know. It’s miles from Baker Street and I can’t spare the time to go chasing up to London again to get her, if they don’t discharge her today. I’ve got work at the dairy. The cows come in at five. They got to be milked. I missed yesterday, I can’t miss it again today.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ said Evelyn politely. ‘Do you know which ward she’s in? Perhaps we could go and see her.’
Mrs Connors stopped and examined Evelyn carefully. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She might not want to see you. No disrespect, like. She definitely doesn’t want to see that Major chappie. She was wailing and crying about that.’
‘We’re her friends,’ said Judith, her forehead wrinkling. ‘Why wouldn’t she want to see us?’
‘We’re her roommates,’ explained Evelyn, thinking that perhaps in their uniforms Mrs Connors saw them in an official capacity.
Mrs Connors took a minute to reply and then she said reluctantly, ‘I guess you’ll have to see her sometime. She’s in Margaret Ward. It’s on the second floor in the main building.’
They took their leave and walked back out to collect their bicycles. ‘Stupid woman,’ muttered Judith. ‘I can’t believe she forgot to phone. Doesn’t she know how serious an AWOL charge is?’
‘I can’t believe she thinks that Betty wouldn’t want to see us. We have to go.’
‘We do.’
‘We can go up straight after shift this afternoon. I’ll try and ring the hospital and see if I can get any news. Pull rank.’
‘That’s a good idea.’
‘In the meantime, we’d better speak to Baxter straight away. And the Major, although why doesn’t Betty want him to know?’
‘I don’t know, but he cares about her. You only have to see the way he looks at her.’
Evelyn looked at Judith, surprise written all over her face.
‘What?’
‘Since when did you turn into a romantic?’
Judith lifted her shoulders in quick rebuff. ‘I’m not, but a man who helps to rebuild a hen house is worth ten of those movie heroes that Betty is always so keen on.’
Evelyn laughed. ‘So the way to your heart is purely practical?’
‘A practical man is so much more useful.’ She gave her a sudden mischievous grin. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘I think you’ve changed.’ Judith had loosened up a lot since she’d arrived and thankfully, in her concern for Betty, seemed to have thrown off her melancholy mood of the last few days. ‘The Bentley has petrol in it. I reckon a mercy dash is within regulations.’
‘I don’t care if it is or isn’t, we have to see Betty.’
As soon as they returned to the house they agreed that Judith would deliver the news to Baxter and Evelyn would seek out Major Wendermeyer in the Officers’ Mess.
As soon as the big hand on the clock closed on the twelve and the small hand on four, Evelyn abandoned all pretence of finishing the paperwork she was supposed to be working on, packed up her desk in record time and raced to the front door of the big house where Judith, prompt as ever, waited for her.
‘All set?’
‘Yes.’
They were both still in uniform but they’d agreed they’d didn’t want to waste any time and risk not getting to Betty before she was discharged, if she was discharged today.
‘With a bit of luck, it should only take us an hour,’ Evelyn said as she led the way to the Bentley.
‘What did the Major say?’
‘Poor man, still doesn’t know. He was in meetings all day yesterday and luckily didn’t know she’d been reported AWOL. There are visiting US dignitaries today, so I didn’t get to speak to him. I suggest we wait until we know more and then can give him the full story. Especially if Betty doesn’t want to see him.’
‘Do you think that’s true? Why would she say that?’
‘Shock? She’s probably terribly torn up by what happened. Or maybe Mrs Connors got it wrong. She must have been pretty shocked. Imagine getting a call saying your daughter is hurt and in hospital. She did seem to be a bit all over the place. Being unkind, I don’t think Betty got her brains from that direction.’
Judith shook her head. ‘No, you’re right. Perhaps she got it wrong. She thought Betty wouldn’t want to see us and I know that can’t be the case. Why wouldn’t Betty want to see us? We’re her friends.’
Evelyn had been puzzling about this all day and still didn’t have any answers, or rather the ones she did have, didn’t bear thinking about.
Judith settled back in her seat.
‘I could get used to this,’ she said as they drove away from the village. ‘It’s so much nicer than taking the train.’
‘It is,’ said Evelyn. ‘But I will have to give it back one day.’
> ‘One day,’ said Judith wistfully. ‘That magical day in the future when all this is over.’ She paused before saying in a small voice, ‘I think sometimes I’m more afraid of the war finishing. What will happen to us all? Latimer House has become my home.’
Evelyn swallowed. She’d thought about that a lot as well. Would she still work? She enjoyed using her brain. The war had given her an opportunity that she’d wouldn’t have missed. It was highly doubtful that she’d ever be content to be like her mother, with her charitable causes and positions on committees.
‘I know what you mean. It seems unimaginable in some ways.’
‘I didn’t ask you about Peter. Sorry, I’ve… I’m really sorry, Evelyn. Betty having this accident has put things in perspective. I’ve been a horrible martyr. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me. A real misery. And I pushed Walther away. I’m such a bad person.’
Evelyn glanced at her, taking her eyes from the road for a brief second. ‘No, you’re not. You just lost your way. We all do. I’ve been horrible to poor Freddie.’
‘Is that the very loud, bouncy boy with the bushy eyebrows?’
Evelyn spat out a laugh. ‘Oh dear. Yes. He’s rather sweet, really.’
‘But he’s not Peter?’ asked Judith with a quirk of an eyebrow.
She sighed. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Because you talk about them differently. Peter, it’s with a touch of wistfulness and reverence; with Freddie, polite impatience.’
‘That’s very acute observation,’ said Evelyn with a wry smile.
‘I listen a lot.’ She shrugged. ‘You get into the habit of hearing what’s not said.’ She paused before adding, ‘I’m a little worried about what Mrs Connors wasn’t saying.’
The admission concurred with Evelyn’s thoughts. ‘Me too. Something is wrong. We’ll find out soon enough.’
‘We will. And you’ve still not told me what happened with Peter.’
‘He’s gone.’ Evelyn couldn’t help the bleakness in her words. ‘Moved on to another POW camp.’
‘Oh, Evelyn, I’m sorry. Do you know where? Will you be able to write to him?’
‘I wish. I don’t think that Naval Intelligence will be terribly pleased with one of its officers corresponding with a prisoner of war. Even if I knew where he was, I don’t know if I’d be allowed to write to him. Anyway, it’s immaterial because I don’t know where he is.’
‘We must be able to find out,’ said Judith, sticking her jaw out with sudden obstinacy. ‘And they can’t stop you writing to him. Or through an intermediary. I’m sure the Red Cross would have something to say about that. Prisoners are entitled to letters, I’m certain.’
They drove in companionable silence as Evelyn concentrated on the traffic, leaving Judith to look at the residential streets. ‘It’s so different from Germany. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever go back.’
‘Do you want to?’
‘I don’t think I do. It’s not home anymore.’
They pulled up outside the hospital and Evelyn stiffened, seeing the damage the building had suffered. Jagged outlines framed spaces where blocks had once stood, the blackened timbers like eerie skeletons interspersed with forlorn piles of rubble. She remembered when she was still at Oxford in 1940, reading and shuddering at the news that the nursing home had been destroyed by a high-explosive bomb. Miraculously only five nurses were killed, although many had to be dug out of the ruins.
How did people stand it, she wondered? Being bombed day after day. How did they get the courage to pick up and carry on? There was a large sign on the corrugated-metal fencing designed to keep people away from the dangers of the bomb site. St Thomas’s down but not out. She smiled. And there was the answer to her question. The resilience of people, that British spirit and the determination to not give up. It was what kept this country going and a pertinent reminder that she needed to be brave. She needed to find her own courage and bear with fortitude the knowledge that she might not see Peter again, but at least she knew he was safe. That had to be enough. But it didn’t stop her heart aching or the dark despair that enveloped her waking moment in the mornings.
‘Come on,’ she said, her voice a little harsh as she shook the thoughts away. ‘Let’s find Betty.’ In the main entrance they found the signs to Margaret Ward and went up a wide stone staircase, following the arrows which led them down a long corridor with lots of sets of doors leading to wards – Stephen, Florence, Edward and Nightingale – before they finally came to Margaret Ward. As they pushed through the double doors it was like stepping into another world where a sense of calm dominated, along with the overpowering smell of carbolic soap.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a nurse in a starched cap and clean white apron, looking up from a desk that was organised with neat precision. For all the chaos outside, Evelyn noted, thinking of the bombed-out blocks, inside they ran an extremely tight ship.
‘Yes, we’re looking for Betty Connors.’
She nurse smiled although there was a hint of sadness where the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘You chums of hers?’
‘Yes,’ said Judith, almost puffing her chest out. It was both amusing to see her so ready to claim friendship and heart-warming to see how much of that initial reserve and prickliness she’d lost over the last few months.
‘She’ll be glad to see you, I’m sure.’ The nurse was suddenly brisk professionalism and a small shiver of foreboding ran up Evelyn’s spine. ‘Visiting times are over soon but you’ve got half an hour and she needs cheering up. Last bed on the right. And er … well, I’m sure she’ll pleased to see you, although she might not show it.’
Evelyn’s eyes sharpened but the nurse gave no other clue.
‘Isn’t she being discharged today? Her mother thought she might be,’ asked Judith.
The nurse gave a non-committal shrug. ‘That’s the hope, but it will depend on the doctor’s round, which is straight after visiting hours. It really depends on how she’s feeling.’
They walked down the ward, both of them softening their steps in response to the subdued atmosphere. Iron bedsteads lined the ward on either side, each with a uniform locker and chair. Visitors were clustered around most but not all beds, talking in low, flat tones. The light was dull and Evelyn realised that the majority of the windows had been bricked up. At the far end of the ward were two sets of ominous-looking red screens clearly shielding the occupants of the beds within. In the time they walked the length of the ward, several nurses went in and out of the screens, walking with an efficient bustle of urgency that left no one in any doubt that they were attending seriously sick patients. Again Evelyn wondered how people bore it; none of the nurses looked very old.
‘There she is,’ whispered Judith, nodding to the bed on the end.
Betty was sitting up in bed and as they approached she turned her face towards them. They both faltered for a second before rallying and stepping forward.
‘We’ve come to spring ya,’ drawled Judith in a perfect Humphrey Bogart accent, which Evelyn thought was a stroke of genius, as it immediately dispelled any potential awkwardness, as there was no missing the big white dressing that covered the whole of the right-hand side of Betty’s face.
‘Evelyn. Judith. What are you doing here?’ Alarm flared across her pale, drawn face and she slumped down against her pillows as if she wanted to back away from them.
‘Aw shucks, I don’t know. Maybe visiting our friend,’ teased Evelyn with a quick forced grin that belied her sudden fear at the sight of the dressing and Betty’s obvious dismay. Her mouth quivered and Evelyn paused, realising that she might not want to see them or anyone. Some of Mrs Connors’ fears coalesced and made sense.
‘We’ve been so worried about you,’ said Judith, walking round to the other side of the bed and plonking herself into the chair there, seemingly completely unperturbed by the bandages on Betty’s face. Evelyn almost smiled at her lack of awareness. It hadn’t occurred to the German girl that there was a pro
blem and it was probably the best approach. Judith continued, oblivious to Betty’s wary gaze, ‘We went to your mother’s house. She told us what had happened. Are you all right?’
Betty nodded slowly, her left eye darting from each of them like a doe about to spring away to flee. There was an awkward silence and Evelyn could see that she was fighting back tears. A big fat tear spilled out of her eye and rolled down her cheek as her lips quivered.
‘You sh-shouldn’t have come,’ she said with a heart-broken sniff.
‘Yes, we should,’ said Judith stoutly, like a fierce guard on the other side of the bed, ready to fight to the death. ‘We’re your friends.’
At that, Betty let out a hiccoughing sob. It was clear she was trying hard to hold back her emotions.
‘D-don’t. D-don’t be nice to me, I don’t d-deserve it. It’s my own stupid fault.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Evelyn enveloped her in a gentle hug, sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding her arm across her shoulders. ‘How can you say that? You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. This isn’t your fault.’
Betty clung to her. ‘Yes it is. I’m such a fool. Being so vain. Wanting a new dress. For what?’ What they could see of her face crumpled and she raised her hand protectively towards the dressing. ‘I’m so stupid.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Judith’s voice was firm. ‘Evelyn’s right, it was an unfortunate accident. You have every right to be feeling sad. Your mother said a building fell on you. It must have been terrifying. Where are you hurt?’
Betty winced and shifted against her pillows. ‘My back, my shoulder, my legs, but nothing’s broken. Just badly bruised, but my…’ Again the hand hovered by the dressing and the left side of her mouth twisted, fresh tears running down her cheeks. ‘I know I’m lucky, but I want to die and that’s an awful thing to say.’ She began to cry quietly and both Judith and Evelyn shuffled closer and put their arms around her, offering the only comfort they could. Evelyn’s heart ached with each of her quiet sobs. Poor, poor Betty. Her pretty face. No wonder she was distraught; in her mind it was her currency. She didn’t see the bright, sparky woman that lit up a room with her gay, positive personality as soon as she walked in.
