Pack Up Your Troubles

by Pam Weaver

  Ga didn’t even hear him. She was still seething. Connie was getting far too big for her boots. What she needed was taking down a peg or two.

  The driver pulled up outside the darkened house. He didn’t get out to open the door for her so she had to do it herself. She baulked at the idea of shelling out 10/6 for the fare as well. ‘It was only five minutes up the road,’ she snapped.

  ‘Twenty,’ said the driver, his face expressionless. ‘It was a round trip and there was two of you.’

  She slapped the money in his hand. ‘Don’t go looking for a tip,’ she said, ‘and I shan’t be using this taxi service again.’ She stamped to the door and fumbled for her keys.

  The driver checked the money, exactly right. ‘I wouldn’t take you anyway, you miserable old bat,’ he mumbled.

  Aggie went inside first and Ga turned to glare at the taxi driver one more time. As soon as she was sure he was looking at her, she stuck her nose firmly into the air. The taxi driver pushed the taxi into gear and stuck up two fingers.

  Twenty-Nine

  The team arrived about fifteen minutes later. Roger briefed them and they set about working out a plan of action. Major Owen was in charge and he invited suggestions.

  ‘Can we carry on digging underneath, sir?’ said Lance Corporal Parker. ‘One of us could crawl in and work on it from underneath.’

  ‘Too dangerous with the child still in there,’ said Roger. ‘If the earth started moving she’s just as likely to panic or distract you at a crucial moment.’

  ‘First, we need to fix a stethoscope on it to check there’s no timer,’ said Major Owen.

  ‘It’s doubtful that the timing mechanism is still intact,’ Roger said, looking at his watch. Usually there was a half hour or an hour’s delay before detonation. They had passed both.

  ‘That’s what Lofty Greenways thought in Hastings,’ said Private Taylor grimly.

  They stopped talking for a couple of seconds as they remembered Private Greenways, blown to bits when a chance tap on the casing of a bomb restarted the timing device leaving him with no time to get clear.

  ‘All right, so we’d better strap a magnet to the bugger to prevent any clock starting up again,’ said Major Owen. ‘Then what? Cut a hole in the casing?’

  ‘And use the steam steriliser you mean?’ said Roger.

  Major Owen nodded.

  ‘I’ll get on to it right away, sir,’ said Roger, standing up.

  ‘Not you, Captain Maxwell,’ said the Major.

  ‘This has been my case from the start, sir,’ Roger protested. ‘I should like to see it through.’

  ‘Not possible, I’m afraid,’ said the Major. ‘You’re too emotionally involved. You’ve just said the child is your girlfriend’s baby sister.’ He shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘She’s not actually my girlfriend,’ Roger lied, desperate not to be sent away. ‘Just a friend.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said the Major. ‘No.’

  Roger had no alternative. He was outranked.

  They set up arc lights run from a generator and got to work. Roger stood above them in the lane, the recommended two hundred yards distance between the UXB and the team, wishing that he could be hands on. The sappers had laid down a sandbag barrier. It was small comfort because Roger fretted knowing that Mandy didn’t have that sort of protection. However, they were a well-oiled machine and beautiful to watch. The idea was to dissolve the explosive filling with steam until it was rendered harmless. He could only hope and pray that they managed to get it all away before the detonator activated.

  As the first light of dawn trickled over the horizon, they heard the child crying. At least she’s alive, he thought, but as Mandy’s wails grew louder and more desperate, he began to worry again. It sounded as if she was starting to panic. The obvious thing to do was to get the child’s mother or Connie but he knew the Major would never allow them that close to the hole until the bomb was safe. It was a mammoth task to stop himself from dashing down there to comfort her, and he could only imagine how devastated the family would be if they could hear her.

  A man stood up further down Honeysuckle Lane. Eugène Étienne yawned sleepily. Isaac was still snoring gently as he sat up. PC Noble had tried to move them on but they had been reluctant to go, so they had bedded down against the wall. Connie meant too much to both of them to leave. Isaac had come to realise for the first time what she had done for him and his family and he didn’t want to let her down. Eugène had his own reasons for being there. He had known as soon as they’d laid together on that horsehair sofa that he would never feel about another woman the way he felt for Connie. As they made love, his passion for her only grew stronger. He didn’t just love her, he adored her. He had wanted to tell her that morning but then she had pre-empted him by telling him she’d made a terrible mistake. He couldn’t have her, he knew that now. She was with Roger. It cut him to ribbons to see them together but if Roger made her happy that was all that mattered. He got up and came sleepily towards him.

  ‘She’s crying,’ he said unnecessarily.

  ‘I hear that,’ said Roger tetchily.

  ‘Do you want me to get Connie?’

  Roger shook his head. ‘I can’t allow her any closer.’

  ‘We could sing to her,’ said Eugène.

  ‘Sing?’ Then all at once Roger half remembered a conversation he’d had with Connie once when she’d talked of her little sister. She’d told him of Mandy’s favourite song. Dear God, what was it?

  The Major must have thought he had gone completely mad when Eugène stood in front of the sandbags and burst into song. ‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine …’ As his rich baritone voice filled the misty dawn air, Roger joined in. The men working around the bomb heard her quiet down and finally understood what they were doing. After a while, Major Owen gave them the thumbs up and Roger clambered down to him.

  ‘False alarm,’ said the Major. ‘Bloody thing was filled with this.’ He lifted his hand and poured a pale substance from one hand to the other.

  ‘So we can get her out now?’

  The Major nodded. ‘The only danger now is falling earth.’ Eugène climbed back up the bank and called Isaac. He came back down the plank walkway with the wheelbarrow.

  The back door was unlocked. Roger opened it quietly and looked around. Clifford and Gwen were locked in each other’s arms asleep on the sofa. Someone had covered them with a blanket. Connie sat at the kitchen table, her head on her arms. As he opened the door, she felt the cold air on her legs and sat up. She looked terrible. Her hair was wild and she had dark circles under her eyes. He longed to take her in his arms and tell her it was going to be all right, but it wasn’t over yet. He put his finger to his mouth and motioned her forward. Connie crept outside quietly and they didn’t speak until they were on the lane.

  ‘The bomb wasn’t dangerous after all,’ he told her.

  Connie frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It was filled with sawdust,’ said Roger and as he saw her jaw drop he added, ‘Probably sabotaged by the forced labour who made them.’

  Connie flung her arms around his neck and squeezed him until he could hardly breathe. ‘So we can get her out now?’

  Coming back from the hole with a full wheelbarrow, Eugène saw them together. He closed his eyes in agony and leaned his head back. It was hard watching the girl he loved with someone else. Connie and Roger were running back to the site hand in hand.

  After all the waiting, it didn’t take long. The soldiers had supported the weight of the bomb with shoring and they’d made short work of the remaining soil. As soon as it was safe, Connie lay on the boards and reached out her hand. She moved her arm around the opening, calling Mandy’s name softly and then she felt a fluttering on her fingertips.

  ‘I can feel her!’ she cried. ‘Mandy, we’re coming. Oh, I can’t quite reach.’

  ‘Here, miss, let me,’ said Private Taylor. He was a tall man and quite thin. His arms were defi
nitely longer than hers so Connie moved away. Taylor reached down the hole. They heard Mandy whimper and then Taylor pulled.

  She came out smoothly although the earth was falling all around her. When she saw Taylor, she looked absolutely terrified until Connie scooped her into her arms and hugged her tight. The child felt very cold and of course she was filthy dirty. She smelled of urine and her dress was wet. Roger handed Connie a tin mug of lukewarm tea and when she put it to her lips, Mandy drank greedily. The men, their faces wreathed in smiles, applauded.

  ‘Mr Charles …’ said Mandy, burying herself under Connie’s armpit.

  ‘You don’t have to see him,’ Connie whispered, the old rage rising up inside once more. There was a shout from the bank and the next minute Gwen and Clifford were scrambling down.

  ‘I’ll get the car,’ said Roger as Connie put Mandy into her mother’s arms. ‘We should get her checked out in hospital.’

  They squeezed into Roger’s car, Clifford in the front and Gwen on the back seat with Mandy straddled across her lap. Roger pulled Connie towards him and kissed her. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ he said earnestly.

  As they sped away Connie looked around. Eugène and Isaac came across to stand beside her. A clod of damp earth fell from the front of Connie’s dress. She was crying now … tears of relief, joy and exhaustion. Eugène reached out his arms and she leaned gratefully onto his chest. He didn’t say anything. He just let her cry and held her tenderly. When she was done, he gave her his handkerchief. ‘Not very clean, I’m afraid.’

  Connie didn’t care. ‘Eugène, I know you’re tired, but would you and Isaac do one more thing for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You heard what happened to my dog? Take me to see Pip.’

  It was still very early but there were lights on in the vet’s house. He had his surgery in two rooms purpose built onto the side of the house. When she got out of Isaac’s old motor, Connie was conscious for the first time how dirty she was. She tried to smooth down her crumpled dress and run her fingers through her messy hair. She was embarrassed to be out and about looking so awful but the need to see Pip overruled everything else.

  Mrs Fielding opened the door to the three of them in her dressing gown.

  ‘I’m sorry to …’ Connie began.

  ‘Come in,’ said Mrs Fielding stepping aside. She was holding a cup of tea. ‘My husband was hoping that you would come soon. He’s been up all night. Go straight through.’

  Mrs Fielding followed them through the surgery door and put the tea down on the desk where Mr Fielding was sitting. He had his back to them. ‘Your tea is there, dear,’ said Mrs Fielding, ‘and Connie has come.’

  When he turned, he was hollow-eyed and unshaven. He stifled a yawn. ‘Ah, Connie,’ said Mr Fielding smacking his lips. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear he’s still with us.’

  After taking a gulp of his tea, Mr Fielding led them into the other room. Pip lay on a couple of blankets. He looked much the same as he had done when they’d found him, except that there was now a large blood-stained bandage around his middle. His eyes were closed. Mr Fielding knelt and began dripping water from a dropper onto his mouth and the dog moved his tongue.

  ‘I don’t know how he’s managed to keep going this long,’ he said. ‘These injuries would have taken a much younger dog hours ago.’

  ‘Any idea how he got them?’ Eugène asked.

  ‘My guess is that he was hit several times with something heavy,’ said Mr Fielding. ‘A piece of wood perhaps and he’s been viciously kicked as well.’

  ‘So it was no accident then?’ said Isaac.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said the vet. ‘There’s a definite imprint of the boot on his side. I heard what happened to your little sister, Connie, so I took a photograph just in case this had anything to do with her being in that hole.’

  Connie knelt beside Pip and stroked his head. His tail flickered slightly and he opened his eyes.

  ‘Can you save him?’ Eugène asked. ‘If it’s a question of money …’

  Mr Fielding shook his head. ‘There’s nothing more I can do, but he’s got this far …’

  Connie and Pip locked eyes. She could feel her throat getting tighter and it was hard to hold back the tears. ‘Oh, Pip,’ she said softly. ‘You’re such a brave little dog. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.’ She kissed the dog’s muzzle. ‘We got her out,’ she said. ‘Mandy is safe now.’

  Again the tail flickered and Pip gazed up at her, adoration in his eyes. Connie could hardly see as her tears fell freely, but as she cradled his head in her hands and kissed him she saw something pass across his eyes. What was it? Fear? No, Pip was fearless. Sadness? No, it wasn’t that either. Pip was at peace with himself. The look stayed for a second and then he slowly closed his eyes for the last time. As his head relaxed in her hands, Connie realised what she’d just seen. It was the last tender goodbye.

  Thirty

  Connie didn’t feel a bit like it after the trauma of the previous day and losing her precious dog, but by 2 p.m. that day she was back on duty. There was no chance of taking the rest of the day off. Home Sister had made that very clear when Connie came back to the hospital.

  ‘But Nurse O’Hara was happy to do my shift,’ she protested.

  ‘Nurse O’Hara will be sent off duty,’ said Sister Abbott.

  Connie had managed to get a little sleep before returning to the ward but not much. She had too much to think about. What was she going to do about Stan? She had no proof but it was obvious that if Mandy was talking about ‘Mr Charles’ he was still up to his dirty tricks. She should have told the police there and then but somehow what with the worry about the bomb and Ga making such a terrible scene, she couldn’t bring herself to add to her mother’s troubles. Her mind went round and round what might have happened before Mandy fell down that hole. Pip must have been trying to protect Mandy. Dear Lord, had he managed to prevent Stan from touching her? The man had to be stopped once and for all.

  Another problem was Roger. What was she going to do about him? She didn’t love him but he was a good and kind man. If she couldn’t have Eugène, maybe she should settle for Roger. Connie tried to imagine what it would be like being married to him. It would be fun having Eva for a sister-in-law. It would also upset Ga and the thought of that made her smile. She could get her own back for the way in which Ga had in effect sent her mother and Clifford away, but then she’d come back to how unfair it would be to use Roger like that. He had gone back to Horsham, promising to telephone the call box outside the hospital as soon as Connie came off duty. Eugène had taken Pip’s body in the back of Isaac’s car and Clifford would bury him somewhere on the property.

  Connie lined up with the rest of the staff for Sister’s hand inspection and thankfully passed the test. It had taken a great deal of scrubbing to get her nails clean after yesterday and thanks to the local press, the word had got around. Everyone wanted to know how her sister was. ‘She’s at home now,’ said Connie. ‘My mother is exhausted but she’s looking after her.’

  As they sat down for the afternoon report, the telephone rang.

  ‘Matron wants to see you in her office,’ said Sister, putting the receiver back on its rest.

  Connie smiled to herself. Obviously Matron had heard about Mandy and wanted to hear about it first-hand. ‘Shall I go as soon as I’ve heard the report, Sister?’

  ‘No,’ said Sister. ‘Matron was most insistent. You have to go immediately.’

  Ten minutes later, Connie walked into Matron’s office but far from the welcoming and gentle enquiry she was expecting, Matron wore a thunderous expression. Connie could feel herself panicking. She’d done something wrong again, but what? As she stood to attention by the desk, Connie knew she was about to get a telling off, but she hadn’t a clue why.

  Matron had a sheet of pale cream writing paper in her hand and Connie caught a glimpse of a lion’s head watermark. It was good quality paper. As Connie trembled, she began read
ing aloud.

  ‘Dear Matron,

  I witnessed two of your nurses skylarking with a dead body in the lift. I saw one of them, Nurse Dixon, hit the other nurse on the bottom with the dead man’s hand and then they both laughed …’

  Connie’s jaw had dropped and Matron glanced up at her with a cold stare. It took Connie a second or two to realise that whoever had written what was in Matron’s hand had seen Eva and her with Mr Steppings’ body. But that was ages ago. Why tell Matron now … after all this time?

  Connie frowned. ‘That’s not true, Matron,’ she began. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  Matron ignored her and began reading again. ‘I do not wish to cast aspersions,’ she went on, ‘but I think this sort of behaviour brings the hospital into disrepute.’

  Connie could feel herself trembling. Who was doing this, and why?

  Matron looked up again. ‘I tend to agree with that, nurse. And this is not the first complaint I have had about you.’ She indicated two other sheets of identical paper contained within a buff-coloured folder on her desk. ‘Since I had those letters,’ she went on, ‘I have kept a close eye on you and there have been quite a few times when I have found your nursing care sadly lacking.’

  ‘Matron,’ Connie said. ‘I can explain.’

  Matron held up a hand to stop her. ‘I’m afraid I have no other alternative but to ask you to leave.’

  Connie stared at her in horror. ‘But it’s not true!’

  Matron put all three pieces of paper together in the folder and closed it. ‘Were you and another nurse in the lift with a body?’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Did the arm of the dead man hit the other nurse’s bottom?’

  ‘Well, yes it did, but …’

  ‘No buts, nurse,’ said Matron coldly. ‘This hospital stands for decency and respect for both the living and the dead. I will not allow you or anyone else to sully its reputation. You will surrender your uniform and give your house keys to Home Sister with immediate effect. I expect you to be off the premises within the hour. That will be all.’