by Cathy Sharp
‘One of those newish ones in Bethnal Green?’ Alice asked, excited.
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘We’ll get the tram and take a look and then have a bite of supper before I get you back to Nan’s house. I’ve put my name down for the flat and it will be my name on the rent book, so I’ll be paying the rent, Alice.’
‘Bob, I can’t let you …’ she protested, but he hushed her with a finger to her lips.
‘In my pocket I’ve got something for you …’ He took out a small box and opened it to show her a gold wedding band and a gypsy-style gold ring with three garnets and two small diamonds. ‘You can wear these and pretend you’re my wife, Alice – but if you want, we can get married and make it for real.’
Alice’s heart jolted, her eyes wide and anxious as she looked at him. ‘You can’t want to marry me … knowing I’m carryin’ Jack’s child …’
‘I can accept it if you can,’ he said, ‘but the choice is yours. They belong to you anyway. Put them on, because we have to get the key from someone and I don’t want them to look down on you for a start.’
He took her hand and Alice allowed him to slide the rings onto her third finger; they fitted snugly and looked right for her. She gave him a tremulous smile but couldn’t find the words to answer him. Alice wasn’t in love with Bob, but the man she’d loved had let her down – and Sally’s tragedy had brought the truth home to her. Life could be very short.
‘It wouldn’t be fair to you, Bob,’ she said but she was wavering and his expression told her he knew it.
‘I care about you, Alice. I think we could be happy together. Come and see the place I’ve found for us.’
Alice let him pull her towards the tram stop. Once on board, she looked at the rings on her finger and all of a sudden she knew she was going to do it. Jack was out of her life. She would never see him again. Bob knew she wasn’t in love with him. If he was satisfied with just friendship and sharing a home, why should she turn him down?
She turned to smile at him, her hand reaching for his. Words were not necessary. Alice knew she was going to marry Bob, but once she was his wife she would be good to him.
She was lucky to get the chance. Poor Sally had lost everything. Alice wasn’t going to risk that happening to her.
FIFTY-FIVE
‘I miss Sally,’ Mary Ellen said to Billy as they sat on the back stairs sharing a bag of Tom Thumb drops that Rose had brought for her. She sucked on the last of the tiny fruit drops, enjoying the mixture of flavours that you got from the sweets if you put a small handful in your mouth. ‘When do you think she will come back?’
‘Dunno.’ Billy shrugged. ‘It’s rotten luck for her, ain’t it? I reckon they were gonna get married one day – just like us.’
‘It’s “going to”, Billy,’ she said. ‘Remember what Sally told you. You have to learn to talk proper if you want to get to grammar school and pass all them exams so you can be a train driver.’
‘I forget sometimes,’ he said, and grinned at her. ‘Nancy’s all right though, ain’t she? I know she ain’t really one of the carers, but she’s standin’ in for Sally in the mornings.’
‘I’m goin’ to ask Miss Angela when Sally’s coming back,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘I heard she went to see her the other night and took some flowers and a card from the staff. I reckon we ought to send a card too … signed by all of us, all the kids at St Saviour’s.’
‘Now you’re talkin’,’ Billy said, tipping his head to one side. ‘Ask Miss Angela if she’ll get us one. I’ve got three pennies in my pocket.’
‘I’ve got the same. I think Marion will give us a penny or two and so will Sarah and some of the others. We want a really big posh one with satin on the front and then we can all sign it.’
‘Go and ask her now before they ring the bell for tea,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll have a whip round and see what we can raise. We might get some jelly sweets too.’
‘No, I think it should just be a lovely card from all of us,’ Mary Ellen said, jumping to her feet. ‘I’ll tell Miss Angela now – but first I’ll go and see Nancy. I’m sure she will want to know what we’re doing.’
‘That’s lovely, miss,’ Mary Ellen said the next day when Angela showed her the card she’d bought with their one shilling and sixpence. It had a pretty picture of roses on the front and a big bow of satin ribbon. ‘We’re all going to sign it, every one of us – and then if you could take it to her for us, please?’
‘Yes, of course I will, Mary Ellen. It is a lovely idea and I’m sure it will cheer her up a little.’
‘When is she coming back? We all miss her. Betsy was crying for her last night after supper.’
‘Yes, I miss her too,’ Angela said. ‘Sally is very unhappy, Mary Ellen. I know she will come when she can – but she’s going to train to be a nurse one day soon.’
‘And then she’s coming back to us, she told us so,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘Thank you for getting the card for us, miss. I’m going to make sure everyone signs it.’
‘Yes, that will be nice for Sally.’
‘Nancy is with the little ones now. I’ll start there.’ Mary Ellen went off, clutching the expensive card.
Angela sat looking at the door of her office, frowning as she thought about her first visit to Sally. She’d been in bed and Mrs Rush had been doubtful about sending her up to her daughter’s room, but Brenda had intervened.
‘If anyone can bring Sally out of herself it’s Angela,’ she said. ‘They are friends, real friends, Mum – and that’s what our Sally needs now. Friends she can rely on.’
‘Well, she certainly won’t listen to me.’ Mrs Rush looked as if she wanted to burst into tears. ‘I’ve tried telling her I’m sorry for what happened – and don’t look at me like that, Brenda. I could cut out my tongue when I think of what I said to her that night. I couldn’t know he was going to die …’
‘I’m sure Sally will understand that when she starts to heal,’ Angela said. ‘What she needs is time. If I could just take her the flowers and card: they’re from all of us.’
Mrs Rush had given in and Brenda had shown her up, knocking at her sister’s door to announce a visitor. Angela had expected Sally to be in bed, but instead she was fully clothed, sitting on the counterpane and surrounded by pamphlets about nursing, half of which she appeared to have torn in half.
‘These are from all the staff,’ Angela said, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. ‘We all signed the card. Everyone is thinking of you, Sally. We wanted you to know that we understand …’
‘How can they?’ Sally asked and raised her head to look at her. Angela was shocked at how dull her eyes were. She wouldn’t have been surprised had they been red from crying but instead they just looked empty, hopeless.
Impulsively, she sat forward and touched her friend’s hand. ‘I think I can understand a little. It isn’t very long since I lost the man I loved …’
Sally made a negative movement of her head. ‘I know you loved John, but it isn’t the same. You were married …’
‘Yes, for a very short time. I regretted we hadn’t had longer – but do you know what I regretted most?’
Sally’s attention was caught; for a moment interest flickered in her eyes. ‘What? I thought you loved him and he loved you?’
‘But we quarrelled on his last leave. It was just a silly quarrel but it hurt John and I couldn’t forgive myself.’
Sally’s hand clenched, as if she wanted to hit out at something or someone.
‘I was going to tell Andrew I couldn’t see him so often until my nursing exams were over. My mother was pleased. She thought it would split us up – and it might have. I was willing to risk that – but I didn’t know what it would feel like being without him … knowing I could never see his face or touch his hand …’ A sob burst from Sally and she sat quivering as Angela put her arms about her. For a moment or two she tolerated Angela’s hold but then she moved away, and her expression was hard. ‘I’m not going to be a nurse now. The
re’s no point …’
Angela saw that she’d torn up the details of the nursing course. ‘You mustn’t just give up, Sally. Your nursing is important to you.’
‘I don’t know what I want,’ Sally admitted. She looked at the flowers. ‘Thank you for these – and the card.’
‘It wasn’t just me. Everyone cares about you – and the children miss you, Sally.’
‘I can’t come back yet. I should keep looking for him.’ A little sobbing breath left Sally’s lips. ‘I just want the chance to tell him how much I love him …’
‘Yes, I know.’ Angela ached to comfort her, but Sally wasn’t ready to be comforted. She had a mountain of grief, guilt and regret squashing her and it would take time to fight her way out from under it. Angela had known it was too soon to reach her.
Sighing now as she headed home, she turned her mind to her own problems. She’d been almost off-hand with Mark when he’d suggested they had to talk and she wondered if he’d taken offence, because he hadn’t rung her or come to see her.
Perhaps he was upset because Carole had turned out to be a spiteful little cat who had lied to trick him into marrying her; perhaps Angela had been wrong to think he didn’t really care for the girl.
FIFTY-SIX
Beatrice was sitting at her desk, staring at the words she’d written. Carole had been a disaster and she wanted to draw a line under the whole affair. The girl had run off without serving notice and without her wages for the week. Her packet was made up and it would remain in the drawer until the girl sent for it – if she ever did.
What worried Beatrice was how wrong she’d been. Carole had been her choice and she’d believed she was reliable. Now they had to start all over again, and how could she be sure that she chose a good nurse with good character? Carole’s references had been excellent.
A knock at the door heralded Angela’s arrival with the neatly typed monthly report, which she placed on the desk. Instead of leaving, she lingered, clearly wanting to talk.
‘Something on your mind?’
‘It’s about Sally,’ Angela said, and frowned. ‘I saw her last night briefly. She says she’ll be returning to St Saviour’s next week – and she isn’t going to take up her nursing place …’
‘Why ever not? If any of my carers is suited to a nursing career it is Sally.’
‘Yes, I know. I have tried telling her that but I can’t get through to her. She seems better, even smiled at me and loved the card from the children – but she says there’s no point in becoming a nurse now, that she should not try to improve herself but stay in her class.’
‘Now that is arrant nonsense!’ Beatrice cried. ‘Where does she think I began? Just because some of my nurses had a better start in life, I certainly didn’t. I had to begin at the bottom, and it was harder then than it is now.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll go and see her myself this evening. I thought I ought to wait, give her time – but she needs some straight talking before this rubbish becomes implanted too deeply in her mind.’
Angela smiled and inclined her head. ‘Just what I thought – but it would be much better coming from you than from me. I am her friend and I shall be there for her when she’s ready – but Sally looks up to you, Sister. She will listen to what you have to say. I think it is to do with her mother and some quarrel they had about her not being of Mr Markham’s class.’
‘And that is utter rubbish too. Andrew Markham was a lovely man and he hadn’t a snobbish bone in his body. It’s Sally’s mother who sounds as if she’s been putting foolish ideas in the girl’s head.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Mothers have a lot to answer for sometimes.’
‘Indeed.’ Beatrice looked grim. ‘I’ll go and see Sally this evening. Much as we shall miss her, she owes it to herself to go on with her nursing.’
‘Sally, you’ve got a visitor. Please come down.’ Mrs Rush stood at the door of her daughter’s bedroom. Sally was lying on the bed cover, just staring at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know why you’re sulking up here alone …’
‘No, you wouldn’t understand.’ Sally didn’t look at her. ‘Angela won’t mind coming up to see me and I’d rather talk in private.’
‘Oh, I know you blame me,’ her mother said, a mixture of pain and anger in her tone. ‘You have to snap out of this, Sally – and it isn’t Angela. It’s Sister Beatrice. I asked her to go into the parlour but she insisted on following me into the kitchen – and I’ve your father’s tea to get …’
‘Sister Beatrice? Here to see me?’
Sally got up from the bed sharply, her respect for the nun making her respond despite a strong desire to be alone. It wasn’t exactly that she blamed her mother for anything; after all she’d made the decision herself, but she couldn’t forgive herself for thinking it didn’t matter if Andrew wouldn’t wait … that she’d been prepared to hurt him because of her own desires and needs. It was if God was punishing her for her ambition.
‘All right, I’ll come down now.’
Sally looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were no longer red, because the tears had dried up, leaving an aching emptiness behind. Nothing seemed worth the effort any more. She knew she had to return to work soon, but she shrank from the pity she would see in the eyes of her friends and colleagues; she didn’t deserve their sympathy. She’d been selfish and horrid and she wished she could go back to before Andrew had left for that conference, to the moment when he’d said he might bring her something special back and she’d known he was talking about a ring. She’d smiled and shaken her head, not wanting him to push things so fast, and that made her feel guilty – as if she was to blame for the accident, as if she’d caused it by her selfish decision. Yet Andrew hadn’t even known of her decision, because she’d made it while he was away.
Having tidied herself quickly, Sally went down the stairs. Pausing outside the kitchen door, she heard Sister Beatrice’s voice.
‘Really, Mrs Rush, I’m quite comfortable here. You have a very pleasant home, similar to my father’s house when I was a small child. We lived in Wapping then and he only moved out to a better area after his father died and he inherited the house. I’m quite accustomed to sitting in the kitchen.’
‘But you’re the Warden of St Saviour’s and a nun … it’s not right …’
‘I’m just the same as your daughter and yourself, Mrs Rush. I happen to have a different job, that’s all.’ Sister Beatrice looked up and smiled as Sally entered. ‘Ah, there you are, my dear. I am glad to see you and I wanted to talk to you about the future. I think it would be a good idea if you put your coat on and we went for a little walk. I always think it is easier to talk in the open air – besides, you look peaky and it will do you good.’
‘You could be private in the parlour,’ Mrs Rush said, but was ignored.
‘I’ll get my coat.’ Sally took it from the hook on the door, following Sister Beatrice outside into the chilly night air. ‘There’s a café just down the road. We could have a cup of tea there. I’m sorry Mum is such a snob.’
‘Your mother does her best, Sally. My mother thought she was doing the right thing when she persuaded me into making the worst mistake of my life.’
‘Mothers …’ Sally smiled a little ruefully. ‘I didn’t think you ever made mistakes, Sister. You always seem to know exactly what to do …’
‘I wish I did,’ Sister said. ‘You’re very young, Sally. At the moment you feel that life is over and you will never be happy again, but you will. In time the pain will ease and disappear to a small corner of your heart. It may never go completely, because I believe you sincerely loved him.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Sally caught back a sob. ‘I didn’t know how much until it was too late.’
‘I once loved someone and lost him.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be, Sally. Out of that despair sprang my need to do something worthwhile. It was a struggle for me to be accepted as a nurse. I could have been an auxiliary immediately,
but that wasn’t enough for me. Nursing is a calling, Sally, not just a job.’
‘Yes – but I’m not sure I could ever be good enough. I thought I could – but I wanted to be better than I am – and Mum says I’ve brought my present misery on myself because I should never have tried to be more than I am. I just wanted to be good enough for him, because I loved him.’
‘Your mother is no doubt well-meaning but wrongheaded,’ Sister Beatrice said in a tone that brooked no opposition. ‘She does have a point, though. You thought Andrew was a class above you, but you were wrong; there is no such thing as class when it comes to love. He didn’t give it a thought and nor should you. Where nursing is concerned that is a vocation and class doesn’t come into it. If you excel as a nurse you can rise to the top, whatever your background. I think you will be an excellent nurse, Sally.’
‘I’m not sure I can …’
‘Nonsense! You’ve already applied and I insist that you take up the position and then return to us when you have the qualification of State Registered Nurse. Indeed, I shall be very cross if you let me down. None of us knows what the future will be, but whatever happens to you in life, Sally, your nursing training will give you independence and a career.’
Sally had stopped walking outside the small café; its windows were steamed up and the paintwork was dirty from the filth of the roads left by passing traffic, but she knew the inside was spotless. ‘Here it is – shall we have a cup of tea?’
‘Is it clean and decent?’
‘Yes, quite nice for simple food and they make a good cup of tea.’
‘Then we’ll go in,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘I dare say you’re feeling guilty, blaming yourself over what happened, even though you played no part in the accident.’
‘How did you know?’
Sister Beatrice laughed and tapped the side of her long nose with her gloved finger. ‘Most women feel that way at some time in their lives. I think it’s something to do with our genes. We bear the guilt from the day we’re born until the day we die … in history women were often seen as sinful creatures for tempting mankind by the holy men of their time, so it’s bred into us.’
