A Caring Heart

by Margaret Carr

  There was a lot of shuffling beyond the door and Duncan and Bobby arrived. Bobby took one look at Isobel and left. About to go after him Joyce stopped her. ‘He’s feeling guilty,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Why, what about?’

  ‘The cat,’ she said, ‘followed him to the next farm when I sent him with a message. They have terriers, I forgot to warn him and they killed the cat.’

  Isobel understood now and smiled back. ‘Oh no they didn’t, he came home and he’s fine now.’

  ‘Really? Oh he will be pleased.’

  Meanwhile a slower Duncan was greeting his son. ‘Where have you been, lad? What have you been up to, eh?’

  Jack helped his father into a chair then sat down next to him. ‘I’ve been given some administrative work at the Hall. I’ll be living in, but it’s local so I’ll be up to see you from time to time.’

  ‘At the Hall?’

  ‘Yes, they have turned it into a POW camp.’

  Duncan was rubbing his chin. He seemed to be having trouble taking in this news.

  Isobel was watching them as they talked, concerned that Jack didn’t as yet understand that his father needed time to assimilate changes.

  ‘You’re not at the hospital any more, that’s good. You’re home now right?’

  Jack sat back in his seat and threw a searching glance at Isobel.

  Joyce bustled forward. ‘Off you go with Nurse, Dad. Jack will still be here when you come back.’ She looked towards her son for confirmation. Jack nodded.

  Isobel moved towards the passage door and Duncan followed her.

  When she had renewed the dressing on his ulcer and checked him through his daily exercises, she and Duncan returned to the kitchen where she washed her hands and got ready to leave. Bobby hadn’t returned, but Joyce promised to tell him that Churchill was alive and well but minus a tail. As Joyce made to escort her over the yard, Jack stood up and said he wanted a word, so they left the kitchen together.

  The geese were at the far end of the yard and didn’t bother them. They walked in silence until they reached the gate.

  ‘Is he going to recover?’

  ‘He has recovered, the rest will just take time.’

  His mouth twisted into an ugly line. ‘What a pat answer, are you all trained to repeat the same phrases?’ he asked scornfully.

  ‘What do you want me to say, Jack? That I don’t know. He has medication and exercises and with luck and hard work they should help him make a full recovery. That he is ever going to be the same man he was before the accident, then, no I don’t believe he is.’

  The look on his face frightened her, as the grip on her arm tightened. Then just as suddenly his hand fell away and she was free, but she didn’t walk away. ‘It was never your fault, Jack. He doesn’t blame you and neither should you blame yourself.’

  He gave a heavy sigh and relaxed. ‘It was hard seeing him like that.’

  ‘No harder than it was for him when he first saw you,’ she said softly.

  Nodding his head he said, ‘You’re right of course, the table turns yet again.’

  ‘For all of us, Jack,’ she said, thinking of Alan flying one mission after another.

  * * *

  She was visiting Sylvia in The Apple the next time she saw Jack. ‘I didn’t know they had changed the use of the old hall. What happened to the Crombies? I had quite a shock when the Lewises told me.’

  ‘Oh yes, they’ve turned it into a POW camp. The Crombies have moved into the lodge.’

  ‘Well prisoners or not, they should be comfortable enough in there.’

  ‘They’re not in the Hall itself, they’re being billeted in the grounds.’

  ‘Well if they are sending any of them out to work they might do worse than send someone up to Pine Tree, they could do with some extra help up there. Jack Lewis has been given a job at the Hall.’

  ‘No!’ Sylvia looked shocked. ‘I thought something was up when he was in here the other night. We never saw hide nor hair of him before. So he’s not back living at home then.’

  Isobel wasn’t one to gossip but she couldn’t resist putting Sylvia in the picture. ‘No, he’s living in at the job, so I suppose that means the Hall.’

  Sylvia said, ‘There’re several staff up there and always one or two of them in here of a night.’

  Over the top of the snug bar Isobel could just see Jack and an older man sitting in deep conversation in the far corner of the men’s bar. ‘I wonder what this job of his entails?’

  Sylvia took a sip of her drink before saying, ‘Whatever it is, it’s pretty important because the others heed him when he gives orders.’

  ‘Do they now.’ Isobel couldn’t deny that she was curious to know what or who had caused this transformation from the bitter sick man of earlier. She looked up and caught Sylvia watching her, and laughing shook her head.

  The door opened and more soldiers piled into the bar. There was a lot of laughing and joking and Sylvia stood up. ‘I’d better help out,’ she said, and turned back to the bar. Before Isobel could finish her drink some of the soldiers wandered into the snug looking for a seat.

  ‘Mind if we sit down?’ a deep voice enquired.

  Isobel looked all the way up over brass buttons to a round baby face too young for the voice. She smiled and nodded. ‘I was on the point of leaving anyway.’

  Heavy boots clunked under the table as two of them took a seat. ‘Oh please don’t go, have a drink, what can I get you?’

  Babyface’s friend was on his feet, deep brown eyes staring into her face, challenging her to stay.

  ‘No really, I must be on my way.’

  ‘Hubby waiting for you, is he? An extra ten minutes isn’t going to hurt, now, is it. Come on, what’s it to be. Shandy, gin? No, let me guess, I bet you’re a sweet sherry girl, am I right? One sweet sherry, please,’ he shouted across to Sylvia.

  Sylvia glanced over and Isobel shook her head.

  He had turned the chair and was sitting astride it with his arms across the back leaning into her face. Babyface had become distracted by a girl at the next table. Isobel finished her drink and rose to her feet.

  ‘We’re spilling blood and guts for you, doll. The least you could do was give a chap some attention.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, leaving the table. She gave Sylvia a little wave and made her way to the door.

  * * *

  A chill wind was blowing down the valley, and here and there an odd slap and bang from a loose garden gate or somebody’s bin lid echoed in the dying evening.

  Hurrying up the main street with her coat wrapped tightly around her and her mind dwelling on the apparent new Jack Lewis, she exchanged greetings with the shadowy figures that came and went along the road. Some of them called out when they recognised her, others passing silently onward.

  Coming to her gate she let herself through and started up the path before she realised there was someone behind her. At first mistaking him for Alan she turned back to him ‘Alan?’ When he didn’t reply she hesitated.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘You can ask me in for a drink.’

  As soon as he spoke she recognised the soldier from the pub. ‘I don’t think so, on your way before . . .’ she got no further before she was grabbed by the arm and dragged into the deeper shadows of the house. ‘If you don’t want me to scream my head off you better let go.’

  She felt the weight of his body pushing her against the wall as the sour smell of his breath invaded her face. On the point of fighting back he was suddenly wrenched from her and hurled to one side. Words snapped and crackled in the air then he was gone and she was left facing Jack Lewis.

  ‘He won’t be bothering you again, you have my word.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Sylvia.’

  ‘Well thank you for coming to the rescue, if I’d had my uniform on I doubt if he would have bothered me, he’d just had too much to drink.’

  ‘You’re shaking,’ he
said with concern.

  ‘Fright, that’s all.’ She peeled herself away from the wall and turned to open the door. ‘Please, would you mind taking a look,’ she stepped back from the door and turned expectantly towards him. She didn’t see his expression but sensed his reluctance. Then he moved past her and entered the house.

  She heard him check the blackout blinds then the lights went on. A few moments followed then he was back on the doorstep again.

  ‘It’s clear.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He was about to turn away and walk down the path when she hesitated on the threshold and asked, ‘Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘Won’t that keep you awake?’

  ‘No more than a call out. I only have Camp, I’m afraid,’ she said, as he followed her into the cottage.

  ‘I couldn’t help noticing how much improved your walking was,’ she said as they sat one on either side of the hearth.

  ‘Always the nurse,’ he said, with a lift of his lips. ‘The face isn’t so red either, though the leg is still tin,’ he said, rapping it with the stick he still carried.

  Come on Isobel she thought, keep off the personal. ‘How’s the job?’

  His long legs were stretched out in front of him as he gazed into the fire and made no reply. She began to think he had fallen asleep. But then he moved restlessly in the chair. ‘It’s not what I would have wished to be doing, but it’s something I suppose. Typical desk work, seeing that everything runs smoothly, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Will the prisoners be allowed out of the camp?’

  ‘Some of them will work on local farms, in the forestry, and on the roads, others will work here in the camps doing whatever it takes to make themselves self sufficient.’

  ‘So what are the chances of your parents getting some help up at Pine Tree?’

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Are you always so interested in your patients’ welfare?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘Then I suppose I should be grateful you were never my nurse.’ Isobel winced inside and fell silent.

  Eventually he put down his cup and stood up. ‘Thank you for the coffee,’ he said.

  Isobel followed him to the door. With his hand on the latch he swung back to face her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘you didn’t deserve that, you tried to help.’ Then he was gone.

  The shakes were back as, ignoring the dirty coffee cups, she pulled her chair closer to the fire and wrapped her arms around herself What was it about the man, why did she care what happened to him? What was it to her whether he thought well of her or not?

  * * *

  Mrs Crombie, a local magistrate, had been put in charge of the Land Army girls and arrived at The Apple the following day with two of her girls. They were to help out at Pine Tree Farm at long last.

  One of the girls turned out to be Brenda Douglas, a young relative of Sylvia’s. The girls were to be housed at the pub as there was no room for them at the farm. Bicycles had been found for them and these were taken down from the boot of the Crombie family’s Bentley and stored amid the beer barrels.

  Sylvia hadn’t seen her young cousin for some time, she admitted to Isobel. ‘She’s from Newcastle. She was a sickly baby and my aunt always spoilt her disgracefully, so heaven alone knows how she is going to manage to work on a farm where the work is so heavy and tiring.’

  ‘I’ll tell Mrs Lewis to keep an eye on her. Though,’ she said, turning to where Brenda and her friend were laughing and giggling at something Norman had said, ‘Perhaps it will take more eyes than Mrs Lewis has to watch out for Brenda.’

  Norman had taken the girls’ cases from them and was leading them away into the pub.

  Sylvia looking harassed made her excuses. ‘I better go and see them settled,’ she said, before hurrying off.

  Isobel smiled to herself as she cycled away. She thought perhaps her friend was in for a busy time. The girls’ arrival would be welcome news at Pine Tree Farm, she thought as she made her way to morning surgery and propped her bicycle against the wall of the doctor’s house. Mrs Holland had recovered from the gas leak and been shocked when she returned from the hospital to discover that the doctor had replaced the old gas oven with a brand new electric one.

  ‘But how am I supposed to know how to use it?’ she had complained to Isobel on an earlier visit.

  ‘You’ll get used to it, you just have to remember not to try and light it, you just twist the knobs instead.’

  ‘Well I know that,’ the good woman huffed. ‘What I don’t understand is all the figures and how they compare to the gas ones.’ So Isobel had set about explaining as best she could.

  This morning when she entered the surgery the housekeeper was standing by the doctor’s desk with a tray in her hands.

  ‘Join us, Nurse,’ the doctor said. ‘Mrs Holland’s cake is too good to pass up. We’ll have tea and cake each morning before surgery from now on.’

  Isobel’s eyebrows shot up, it wasn’t like the doctor to be so generous with his time.

  ‘It’s all on account of that new cooker. I should have bought it years ago,’ he cried. Mrs Holland’s mastery of the new oven or her light-handedness at the baking was never mentioned of course, Isobel noticed, as she gave the housekeeper a sly wink. The cake, without the benefit of sugar, was delicious and set her up fine for the crowded surgery.

  When Bobby came through the door the doctor’s glasses slipped off his nose and he had to make a sudden snatch to catch them before they fell on the floor. ‘What do you want,’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing, it’s Nurse I’ve come for.’

  Isobel tried to keep a straight face as she glanced across at the doctor who was rubbing furiously at his glasses. ‘What is it,’ she asked a clean and tidy Bobby, who ignored the doctor and faced Isobel with a worried expression.

  ‘Duncan’s bad and Mrs can’t help. You have to get Jack.’

  ‘What’s the matter with Lewis, man?’ the doctor snapped.

  But Bobby was only interested in getting Isobel to fetch Jack.

  ‘I’ll go with him and let you know what’s happened when I get back,’ she said.

  The doctor swivelled around in his chair. ‘You’d better phone the camp from here seeing as it’s an emergency and get young Lewis to come down.’

  She crossed to his desk with Bobby dogging her footsteps and picked up the phone. The person who answered told her that Mr Lewis wasn’t in, could he phone her back? But Isobel said it wasn’t convenient and left a message.

  ‘All right, go go go,’ the doctor said flapping his hand at her as she hesitated.

  She took Bobby by the arm and left the surgery. ‘How did you get here?’ she asked, as she turned her bike along the road.

  ‘Walked.’

  ‘Well I’m going to ride up to the farm now, and Jack will come up when he gets my message. So I will see you back at the farm, right?’

  ‘Back at the farm,’ he said and nodded his head.

  She was in the farmyard when Jack arrived in a long black car and scattered the geese far and wide. Bobby was sitting up beside the driver and by the look on his face thoroughly enjoying the ride. The minute the engine stopped the door shot open and Jack climbed out.

  ‘What’s all this about Dad?’ he asked Isobel as together they hurried towards the house, but before they entered there was a cry and Joyce Lewis was waving to them from the doorway of the byre.

  ‘Here! Over here, Nurse,’ Joyce shouted from the far end of the byre.

  By now Jack had arrived and they both made their way along the walkway behind the stalls. At the last stall a strange sight met their eyes. Duncan was lying in the feeding rack with one leg stuck at an angle behind him.

  ‘Lord, help me!’ he was shouting at the top of his voice.

  ‘That’s all I can get out of him!’ cried his harassed-looking wife. ‘But when we tried to get him out he screamed something awful. I think his leg must be broken.’

  ‘What were you trying to do in there, Dad?
Come on now, stop that shouting this minute or we’ll leave you there. Isobel take a look at his leg and see what you think.’

  Duncan had quietened at the sound of Jack’s voice and Isobel moved forward to take a look at his leg. After a brief inspection she said, ‘I don’t think it’s broken but it is stuck at a difficult angle.’

  Jack looked back up the walkway. ‘Where’s that chap that’s supposed to be looking after him?’

  ‘Oh Bobby tried to get him out,’ Joyce said, ‘but when Duncan screamed like that he frightened poor Bobby and he wouldn’t try again.’

  ‘Well get him back here, this might take all of us.’

  Duncan sounded more like his normal self as he grinned down at Jack and said, ‘Eh lad, it’s good to see you.’

  Isobel had run off to fetch Bobby, who was reluctant to leave the car until she reminded him that they must help Duncan. Once they returned the two men got to work lifting and turning Duncan so that Isobel could manoeuvre the leg into a position to release it from the rails. Once that was done it was just a matter of lifting him free. He was crying like a baby as Bobby carried him out of the byre and across the yard to the house. Joyce held his hand the whole way while Jack and Isobel followed behind.

  ‘Is he going to need further attention?’ Jack wanted to know.

  ‘No I shouldn’t think so.’

  ‘What the devil was he doing there in the first place?’

  ‘Your mother said he had wanted to help her feed the cows. He had been forking hay into the racks when he accidentally threw his pitchfork through the rails. Apparently he couldn’t reach it so instead of coming around to the other side he climbed into the rack to get it, when he turned to climb out he got stuck.’

  ‘Of all the stupid . . .’

  Mrs Lewis looked up as they entered the kitchen. ‘Bobby is putting him to bed. He’ll sleep for a while,’ she smiled, ‘and then he’ll be fine again.’