by Janet Tanner
Hillsbridge House was as quiet as she had left it, her note unread on the table. Marcus and his father were not home yet, she assumed. Perhaps they had stayed to have tea with one of the masters in his room. And of Lady Erica there was no sign either. Barbara crossed to the big open fireplace, warming her hands. No shortage of coal at Hillsbridge House. The thought amused her. There wouldn’t be, would there, since Sir Richard owned most of the pits in the valley which produced it!
The Mercury, published the previous day, lay on the table. Idly, Barbara picked it up, turning the pages. A few weddings, mostly with the brides wearing sensible coats and hats, a small spray of flowers their only concession to tradition. Poor things, I wonder if they know what they are letting themselves in for? Barbara thought. An account of an inquest into yet another death in the blackout. Some war news and a photograph of a local lad, missing in a merchant ship. Barbara thought of Huw and quickly pushed the thought away. She had enough on her mind without adding to the load.
She turned the page and saw the story: ‘Appeal for Nurses’. She stopped to read it and felt a quiver of excitement.
She had been wondering what she could do – now right here in front of her eyes was the answer! It was something that had never occurred to her before, now she wondered why ever not. She had no experience, of course, but the advert said that all that was needed was a pair of hands and a willing disposition. It would be menial work, no doubt, emptying bedpans and sweeping wards, but it would be work and she would be doing her bit for the war effort. After the frustration of the past weeks it was an exhilarating thought.
Marcus and his father came home while she was dressing for dinner.
‘Good match?’ she asked. The new positive mood spilled over into her voice but Marcus seemed not to notice.
‘I suppose so.’ He stripped off his shirt, shivering a little. It was not very warm in the bedroom. ‘Pater is still going on about this damned swimming bath business.’
‘You might just as well tell him there’s nothing you can do,’ she said. ‘Your only recourse would be to take the council to court and it’s simply not worth it. Besides it’s immoral to try and squeeze money out of the ratepayers for a swimming bath that no one can swim in.’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘What do you know about it?’
‘I went to see Uncle Harry this afternoon. I mentioned it to him.’
She knew at once she had said the wrong thing for his face darkened.
‘You haven’t been interfering, have you?’
‘Of course not. I just thought I’d ask him about it.’
‘You have been interfering!’ He swung around from the wardrobe, a clean shirt on its hanger swinging in his hand. ‘Why can’t you mind your own business?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said shortly. ‘I’m getting a bit fed up with playing the dutiful little wife. There’s something else I might as well tell you while I’m about it. I want to volunteer as a nurse.’
‘You what?’
‘They’re desperate for extra nurses – auxiliaries as well as trained people. It’s something I could do instead of sitting around here all day. I’m going to see them on Monday and volunteer.’
‘Where would you go?’
‘Bath. I don’t know which hospital. Part of the Royal United Hospital has been turned over to the military and there are a lot of new buildings at St Martins to deal with air raid casualties and so on. I presume I’d be sent where I’m most needed.‘
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘No wife of mine is going to look after other men. There are plenty of girls who can do that without you …’
‘But it’s up to everyone to do their bit. I don’t want to quarrel but I don’t want to be kept here like a bird in a gilded cage. I’m bored out of my mind and I want to do something useful.’
‘Mother and Father would never stand for it.’
‘They can’t stop me and neither can you. My mind is made up.’ If it hadn’t been before it was now, she thought.
His face contorted. ‘You will do as you are told.’
She turned away. There was no point in arguing. He was simply working himself up to one of his rages. But she was determined that on Monday morning she would get on a bus and go to Bath.
She was at the wardrobe selecting a dress when he grabbed her from behind. ‘I know what you want. You want a man.’ He spun her round. His face had the dark shut-in look she had learned to fear. He caught at her blouse, ripping it off her shoulders.
Suddenly Barbara was more angry than afraid. She lashed out with her hand. Her fingers caught his cheek a stinging blow. He recoiled, then grabbed her, and hauled her struggling and fighting to the bed.
‘Stop it!’ she screamed, but his hand was over her mouth, stifling her cry. He was too strong for her. Despite her struggles he took her with the same manic strength she had come to know. Afterwards, as he rolled away, she struggled to her feet. Her mouth was bleeding and his finger marks had made angry weals on her breasts.
‘That’s it!’ she said. Her voice was low and trembling, yet surprisingly firm. ‘I won’t be treated this way. I’m leaving you, Marcus.’
In a second he was on his feet. The monster had gone. In his place was the frightened, war-shocked young man. It was as if Marcus was three separate people, she thought. No doubt this afternoon he had been his third self – the charming sports-mad hero – to everyone he had met at his old school.
‘No!’ he begged her. ‘Barbara – I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what comes over me. But it won’t happen again I promise.’
‘I’ve heard that before.’
‘I mean it. I couldn’t bear it if you left me. I don’t know what I’d do.’
‘You’d survive.’
‘I wouldn’t. I’d kill myself, Barbara. God knows, I’ve thought about it. Before I met you I almost did. I’ve got a gun. I’ve still got my service revolver. I made up my mind to use it. But I couldn’t even do that. And then I met you and you made everything seem different. I thought I was going to be all right. And I will be. I will be. Only don’t leave me, Barbara – please don’t leave me!’
She was amazed at the emotions flooding through her then. Her anger had died at the sight of his face. Now she felt only pity, fear that he might actually mean what he threatened, and, strangely, love. Never before had she felt that she actually held someone’s life in her hands. Never before had the feeling of responsibility and of being needed been so strong. It frightened yet exhilarated her. Maybe she could still help him. Maybe she could help to restore his shattered nerves, help him rebuild his confidence in himself so that he could once more become what he had been. It was a challenge and God alone knew it would not be easy. But if she could do it the rewards would be well worth the effort. Marcus the golden boy living up to his image once more. And only she would know the truth about the toll his heroism had taken on him.
Once again she remembered the horror of what he had been through and reminded herself that these traumas and inadequacies were as much a legacy of the war as his damaged leg. That was a wound for all the world to see – and an acceptable one. His mental state was something to be hidden, something only she knew about. Heroes were not supposed to be mentally or emotionally deranged. They should be above that. If she left him it might prove the final straw. Her departure would signal the final failure and it might push him over the brink. Whereas if she stayed, perhaps she could help him to become whole once more and in so doing become a more complete person herself.
The words of the marriage service came back to her. ‘For better, for worse … in sickness and in health.’ That was what she had promised. Usually, one would expect the better to come before the worse, the health before the sickness, building strength for what might follow. Not in her case. She had been plunged straight into a nether-world she had scarcely dreamed existed. But she would fight out of it and she would take him with her. In that moment Barbara silently renewed her marriage vows and the wor
ds had fresh meaning for her.
But she had to have an outlet or go under herself. If she was to help him, she had to establish a sound base from which to work. Now was the time to do it.
‘All right, Marcus, I’ll stay on one condition. I am serious about doing war work. If you try to stop me, I shall leave you.’
‘Anything, Barbara. Only please – don’t go!’
‘All right, we’ll try again.’
She did not add a second condition. She did not tell him as she might have done a few minutes ago that she would also leave him if he continued to take her by force instead of in love. With an instinctive wisdom beyond her years Barbara knew that was a promise he would be unable to keep.
She went to Bath on Monday morning to the Headquarters of the Civil Nursing Division where she was interviewed by the Honorary Organizer herself.
Facing her questions across the table Barbara felt hopelessly inadequate. No, she had no formal training and no nursing experience either, just a few classes in first aid which she had attended when she was fire watching, to her credit. Yes, she was willing to learn. As credentials she gave details of her education and the business training she had received.
The Organizer sat for a moment reading the form which Barbara had completed. Then she looked up at Barbara directly.
‘I’m not sure that enrolling you as an Auxiliary would be the best way to aid the war effort, Mrs Spindler.’
Barbara’s heart sank. ‘But it said in the advertisement that experience was not necessary,’ she argued. ‘I’m young and fit and I’m ready to do whatever is required of me. The Minister of Health himself has launched a campaign for more nurses, it said so in the paper. If you turn me down I shall just have to go elsewhere to offer my services.’
The Organizer smiled. She admired spirit, particularly in the young.
‘I didn’t say I was turning you down. I simply said I think there may be better ways for you to help the war effort than by nursing.’
‘Such as?’
The Organizer straightened the papers in front of her. ‘I need help here at my HQ. Administering the Civil Nursing Reserve involves a lot of clerical work. With your education and business training background I am sure you could be of great assistance to me. It doesn’t sound as glamorous as nursing, I agree – not that nursing is as glamorous as people seem to think it, in any case. But it is very necessary and I must have staff I can depend on. Would you consider working here with me, Mrs Spindler?’
‘Oh!’ Barbara said, the wind taken out of her sails.
The Organizer continued to look at her with that disconcertingly direct gaze. It was not what she had expected, but yes, now that she came to think of it, working here at HQ did have a certain appeal. No awkward shifts. No bedpans. No brooms. And the chance at last to put her training to good use.
Barbara nodded. ‘Yes. Yes. I think I would consider it. And yes, I think I would like it very much.’
Whilst she was in Bath she took the opportunity to look around the shops, though she did not buy anything. She was amused by the queues which had formed outside some shops and joined one for the fun of it.
‘What are you queuing for?’ she asked the woman in front of her.
The woman shrugged. ‘Don’t know. But as soon as I saw the queue I knew it must be for something. We’ll find out when we get there.’
Briefly, Barbara shared her excitement, but after ten minutes with no appreciable movement she began to be bored, left the queue and followed it to its head to see where it was leading.
A chemists’shop!
Curious, thought Barbara. Why should anyone queue outside a chemists’shop? Oh well, perhaps they knew what they were doing. But then again, perhaps they did not.
Barbara wandered on.
By killing the rest of the afternoon she managed to be at the bus station at exactly the same time as Maureen. Her sister, who now travelled to school alone, was delighted to see her and it seemed just like old times as they sat side by side on one of the hard wooden seats rattling along and chattering all the way.
‘Why don’t you come home for an hour?’ Maureen suggested when the bus reached Hillsbridge. Barbara glanced at the town clock. She still had more than three hours before she needed to begin getting ready for dinner and the thought of spending at least a couple of them at her old home was an inviting one. Besides, if she was going to begin working for the Civil Nursing Reserve it might be the last opportunity she would have for quite a while.
The girls walked along the lane.
‘Shall we call in at the office and see Mum?’ Barbara suggested as they approached the yard.
‘She isn’t there today,’ Maureen told her. ‘She’s gone to a meeting of the Haulage Association or whatever they call themselves.’
‘Does that mean she’ll be late home?’ Barbara asked, dismayed.
‘I shouldn’t think so. I know the men tend to rabbit on a bit but Mum is very good at getting a meeting closed when she wants to go home. And she and Ralph are supposed to be going out tonight to some function in connection with the Comforts Fund.’
In the months since she had left to be married little had changed at Valley View. Mrs Milsom was at the sink peeling potatoes for the evening meal and she dried her hands to greet Barbara warmly.
‘Well, well, Miss Babs, fancy seeing you! I thought you’d gone and deserted us.’
‘Now would I do a thing like that?’ Barbara asked, helping herself to a few crumbs of a cake which was cooling on the table. ‘This looks good – what is it?’
‘Carrot cake,’ Mrs Milsom told her. ‘It’s not the same as a nice slice of Dundee, but there you are.’
‘Can I have some?’ Barbara asked. ‘I’m starving.’
‘It shouldn’t be cut yet. It’s still warm,’ Mrs Milsom said severely, then smiled, setting her multiple chins wobbling. ‘Well, go on then. But don’t blame me if you get indigestion.’
‘I won’t.’ Barbara cut herself a thick slice and bit into it. ‘Hey, not bad! Do you want some, Maureen?’
‘She does not. You’ll have your mother after you if you spoil your appetite, Miss Maureen.’
‘When have I ever done that, Milsy?’ Maureen laughed and the girls munched carrot cake together. Then Maureen went upstairs to change out of her school uniform and Mrs Milsom departed to lay the table – something she liked to get out of the way before the cooking reached what she referred to as ‘the crucial stage’.
Barbara sat by the fire glancing through the News Chronicle which had been discarded in Mrs Milsom’s rocking chair and toasting her toes. She felt good and comfortable, happier than she had done for weeks.
Perhaps everything was going to come out right after all, she thought. Her new job would give her a different perspective on things and she was determined to make a success at last of her marriage to Marcus. Patience and understanding were what was required and in the end she would see his mind mend as his body had, so that he would once again truly be Hillsbridge’s ‘golden boy’.
Lost in her thoughts she did not hear the footsteps approaching the back door, but when the handle creaked and began to turn Barbara looked up in surprise. Too early for her mother, surely, and Ralph never used the back door. She half rose as it swung open, then gasped and froze. It couldn’t be. She must have fallen asleep and be dreaming.
The apparition smiled.
‘Hello, Barbara.’
And then she moved, running across the kitchen and throwing herself into his arms. And her voice, though only a whisper, was so full of joy it seemed to come from every bit of her being.
‘Huw – oh Huw! I don’t believe it! Huw!’
Chapter Twenty
He held her. Her hair was silky soft against his face, her body felt firm and sweet and whole. A thousand dreams and now she was in his arms. Unexpectedly, tears filled his eyes. He buried his face in her hair and hugged her close.
After long moments she pulled back, still holding him, but ti
lting her head so she could see him.
‘Huw! You’re all right! You’re here! Oh Huw!’
She was crying, too, and laughing at the same time. He pulled her close again, not wanting her to see his tears.
‘Oh Barbara!’ Her name was like a liturgy. He heard himself saying it over and over. Time had stopped, the world stood still. The cosy kitchen around them ceased to exist. He kissed her, felt the eager response of her lips, held her close again. Time for questions and explanations later. For now all that mattered was being here. With her.
They did not hear Maureen coming back downstairs. The first warning was her excited squeal and then there were not two bodies embracing but three. After the first ecstatic moment it brought him back to reality.
‘What are you doing here?’ Maureen asked. ‘We thought you were dead! Oh, Mrs Milsom, come quickly! It’s Huw! He’s home!’
‘Whatever is going on? Whatever …?’ Mrs Milsom stopped in the doorway, her hands full of cutlery. Then she added her voice to the clamour.
‘Oh Master Huw! Oh my goodness!’
He put his kitbag down on one of the chairs.
‘Why didn’t you let us know, you naughty boy?’ Mrs Milsom asked. And then: ‘Oh my Lord, whatever happened to your face?’
He touched the still-bubbled skin defensively. ‘I got burned when my kite came down. It’s not so bad now.’ He looked around. ‘Where is Amy? I called in at the yard and she wasn’t there. They thought she’d be at home.’
‘She’ll be here soon. Oh Huw, tell us, where have you been?’ Maureen bubbled.
‘In France. It’s a very long story. I got back this morning. They flew me out.’ He glanced towards the stove. ‘Is the kettle on Mrs Milsom? If there’s one thing I could do with it’s a nice cup of English tea!’
‘Yes, of course, Master Huw. Oh my goodness. I’m all of a dither!’
‘Sit down, Milsy, and I’ll see to it,’ Barbara said.
Huw watched as she set out cups and saucers and though he was now trying to answer their hundred and one questions he could think of nothing but Barbara and how lovely she was. Christ, he could eat her. Devour her. The way she moved started a fire within him, her smile touched his heart. Barbara – I love you! I’ve always loved you and I was too stupid to realise it. But I’m here now and everything is going to be all right. There’s nothing to stand between us now. Nothing …
