by Cathy Sharp
‘He’s alive, Michelle. I told you I didn’t believe he was dead; I had a feeling and now I know. I’ve no idea how he managed to get out, but his letter came recently, asking me to go away with him.’
‘You won’t go?’
‘I couldn’t do that to Bob, even if I wanted to …’
‘Oh, Alice, you know Jack was a bad lot.’
‘I wouldn’t hurt Bob … I couldn’t …’
‘No, of course not,’ Michelle agreed. ‘The last thing you want to do is let him down.’
‘And I wouldn’t; he stepped in when Jack left me in the lurch,’ Alice said.
‘You’re not even a bit tempted, then?’ Michelle thought she could see some uncertainty in her friend’s eyes. ‘I know you were soft on him.’
Alice smiled ruefully, ‘Yeah, well, fat lot of good that did me. No, I’m with Bob now, and that’s that. I made him a promise when we wed and I’m not going to break it. But, don’t let’s talk about me,’ she said. ‘What about you, Michelle? When are you going to get married?’
‘And who would I marry?’ Michelle asked, arching her brows playfully while inwardly noticing that Alice had turned away from the subject of Jack Shaw a bit too quickly.
‘I know Eric keeps hoping he’ll wear you down, Michelle. He really loves you and wants to marry you – but if you don’t love him, then don’t marry him.’ Alice paused then added, ‘What about that doctor you told me about – the one who came round to your dad? Dr Kent, isn’t it? You’ve seen him several times since, haven’t you?’
‘He visits St Saviour’s sometimes, but I don’t know him – for all I know he could be married …’
‘No, he isn’t. He lives with his mother and she’s a widow …’
‘How do you know?’
‘The nurses were talking about him at the clinic when I took Susie for her check-up yesterday. He works there sometimes and I’ve seen him. He’s very good-looking – I think half of them are in love with him, but he never seems to notice, keeps his distance and doesn’t flirt, unlike most of the doctors – at least, that’s what they say. They were hinting he might be … you know, the other way. But I’m sure he isn’t. Bob showed me some of them once at a pub we went to and Dr Kent isn’t a bit like that …’
‘Of course he isn’t,’ Michelle said, annoyed. ‘Those nurses are only jealous because he doesn’t notice them and probably has a lovely girlfriend they don’t know about.’
‘Perhaps,’ Alice said, then changed the subject. ‘Bob says he’s getting leave again soon and he might take me for a holiday. I get so lonely here when he’s away. No one talks in the street like they used to when I lived at home in Spitalfields. I’ve been here a few months and yet I hardly know anyone …’
‘Why don’t you bring Susie in to see the staff at St Saviour’s? I’m sure they would love to see you.’
Alice looked wistful. ‘I will bring Susie for a visit, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to work there now. It takes a lot of time to look after a baby and it isn’t easy to find a child minder – not one I’d trust, anyway.’
‘Mum might, for a couple of days a week – if that would be enough,’ Michelle offered.
‘Do you think she would?’ Alice’s eyes lit up at the idea. ‘I do like your mum, Michelle. You’re so lucky … even if Ma had been willing to look after Susie, I’m not sure I’d trust her. She was too handy with her fists, even when we were small.’
Alice’s mother had thrown her out when she learned she was pregnant, and she hadn’t even attended her wedding, though the rest of Alice’s family had been there to support her.
‘I’ll ask her – I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes.’
‘Well, thanks for suggesting it,’ Alice said and sighed. ‘I’m glad I’ve got my Susie, and I wouldn’t part with her for the world, but I used to enjoy the company at St Saviour’s. It’s not much fun being at home with Bob away …’
‘Why don’t you come to St Saviour’s tomorrow afternoon? We could go for coffee or something after I finish my shift.’
‘Oh yes, I’d like that,’ Alice agreed. ‘Thank goodness for you, Michelle. Sometimes I think I shall go mad here all alone.’
‘You’ve got Susie, and Bob comes home when he can.’
‘Yes, he comes when he can …’ Alice turned away but not before Michelle had seen the sheen of tears.
Alice was hankering for that rotten Jack Shaw. Michelle wanted to take her and bang her head against the wall to make her see sense. Why couldn’t she see that the man she had was worth ten of that charming rogue who had made her pregnant and then deserted her?
‘Well, Eric is coming home on leave soon,’ Michelle said. ‘I’ll ask him to babysit and we’ll have a girl’s night out somewhere – what do you reckon?’
‘I reckon Eric won’t think much of that,’ Alice said, laughing. ‘Maybe Nan would babysit one night so we can go out together. I’ll ask her.’
‘You do that.’ Michelle grinned. ‘Put the kettle on, Alice. I’m dying for a cuppa.’
‘Can you come please, Nurse Michelle?’ Mary Ellen tugged at her uniform skirt the next morning at work. ‘Only it’s Matty. He isn’t very well. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s gone all funny, making strange noises, and he can’t breathe.’
‘Yes, I’ll come at once,’ Michelle said, looking at the child’s anxious face. ‘Where is he?’
‘He’s on the floor in the playroom. He and Billy were having a game of football …’ Mary Ellen stopped guiltily. ‘I know they’re not supposed to play in the house, and Sister would be cross, but Matty loves football, same as Billy, and he was showing him how to score a goal, but then Matty fell down and started twitching. He was kicking and frothing and I didn’t know what to do. Billy put a hanky in his mouth ’cos he thought he might bite his tongue …’
‘That was quick thinking,’ Michelle said, letting Mary Ellen lead the way. She and Billy had been a couple of rebels when they first came here, but these days they seemed very responsible. ‘Matty might be having some sort of a fit. I’ll see what I can do – but perhaps we shall call the doctor.’
Michelle saw the child lying on the ground. By the time they arrived he’d stopped fitting but lay staring up at them with glazed eyes, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. She knelt by his side, stroking his forehead and talking to him softly. If she was not mistaken, from Mary Ellen’s description, the child had had some kind of nervous fit that had affected the use of his limbs, which might possibly be an epileptic fit. If that was the case, he would need to be on tablets for the rest of his life – and the effects could be unpleasant, especially for a child that liked to run and play football. She could only pray there was some other explanation for his fit.
He was coming round now, staring at her uneasily, clearly frightened by what had happened to him. Michelle decided not to make snap decisions; it might have been a harmless spasm or nervous fit of the kind children suffered sometimes when they got over-excited or too hot.
‘What happened?’ Matty asked, wide-eyed. ‘Did I get sick?’
‘You had a bit of a turn,’ Billy told him. ‘You’re all right now, mate – nurse is here.’
‘Yes, you’ve been sick and dizzy,’ Michelle said, making up her mind to discuss the child with Dr Kent before she made any judgements. ‘I’ll take you up to the sick ward and clean you up. Do you think you can walk for me – or shall I get someone to help me carry you?’
‘I can walk if you help me,’ Matty said, making a brave attempt to get to his feet and falling back. He seemed very unsteady as he tried to walk, as if he had no control over his limbs.
‘Run and fetch Tilly, please, Mary Ellen,’ Michelle said. ‘We’ll have to carry you, Matty. I expect it was all that running about. You’ll be right as rain after you’ve had a nice drink of water and a rest.’
She wiped the sick from his mouth with her apron, talking to him gently until his mind cleared. By the time Tilly arrived to
help, he was able to walk with a helping hand on each side of him, albeit a bit jerkily.
Twenty minutes later, Matty was in bed and resting. Tilly followed Michelle as she went through to the rest room, which was between the sick and isolation wards, to wash her hands and put on a clean apron.
‘He had a fit, didn’t he? Me da’s uncle’s an epileptic – Uncle Derry. He comes from Dublin and he married me da’s auntie, so he’s not a blood relation. She’s had a time with him, I can tell you. Once the fittin’ starts it can ’appen anywhere, but she got killed in the war and he’s in some sort of home for disabled folk now …’
‘Well, we don’t know it was an epileptic fit,’ Michelle said. ‘Children can have fits for all sorts of reasons. Please don’t talk about it, Tilly. I’m going to contact the doctor and ask him to look at Matty – but until then, keep this to yourself please.’
‘Of course, but the children will know he had a fit,’ Tilly said. ‘You can’t keep nuthin’ quiet when there’s kids about.’
‘I know – but we don’t have to gossip, do we?’
‘All right, I was only sayin’ …’
Tilly looked annoyed as she went off to check on the drinks trolley for the children, which was late coming up. Cook was probably short-handed in the kitchen again.
Michelle sighed. Perhaps she had been a bit sharp with Tilly. She was still very new here and Michelle wasn’t sure she could trust her, as she’d been able to trust Alice and Sally. She would get used to her eventually, but it took time to train a girl to do things the way they should be done, and Tilly seemed prone to some odd moods …
Tilly felt really fed up as she went into the kitchen to fetch the drinks for the kids in the sick bay. Everyone seemed to get on to her and there were days when she couldn’t do a thing right. It had started that morning at breakfast. Her mother had still been in bed after a late night out with her husband, Arthur Mallens. Roddy had been in a rush to leave, because he had football practice at school, and Mags was sulking. She’d glared at Tilly when she’d asked her to take a cup of tea up to Ma, then sullenly refused.
‘Take it yourself or let her come and fetch it.’
‘Mags, you wretch! You know I’ve got to get to work. I was lucky to get this job and I don’t want to lose it.’
‘I ain’t goin’ up while he’s still around.’
‘He went out ages ago,’ Tilly said. ‘If you’re referring to Arthur?’
‘Oh, all right then,’ Mags said. ‘Give it ’ere. I’ll probably be late for school, but it don’t matter. I’m never goin’ ter do anythin’ but work in a bleedin’ factory.’
‘What makes you say that? I thought you wanted to take your exams and be a nurse?’
‘He told her I ought ter be out earnin’ me livin’ – said he wasn’t goin’ ter keep all of us – not unless it were made worth his while.’
Tilly looked at her suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’
Mags shrugged. ‘Dunno. I’ll take the tea. You’d better go if you’re late. I don’t care long as he ain’t here …’
Tilly couldn’t stop thinking about the look in her sister’s eyes. If she hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to work she would’ve made Mags tell her what she was getting at. Probably it was simply Arthur flexing his muscles, making sure they all knew he was the big man who kept a roof over their heads.
If she’d had a choice, Tilly would rather have lived anywhere else but under the same roof as Arthur. But there was no way she could walk out on her mother, brother and sister; especially if … No, surely Arthur wouldn’t try his dirty tricks on her younger sister? It was Tilly he was after … wasn’t it?
Yeah, of course it was. He never left her alone, followed her into the scullery or the back yard when she went out to the toilet, and upstairs. If she didn’t make a habit of locking her door, he’d have followed her into her bedroom – and Tilly knew that one day he’d be too quick for her …
SIXTEEN
‘We were hoping you might take him in,’ the police constable looked at Angela, twisting his helmet in his hands as he went through the tangled explanation. ‘The boy’s father is in the Navy and will be away at sea for the next few months, and his mother isn’t considered fit to care for him, especially as he’s a difficult case.’
‘What do you mean, difficult?’ Angela asked. ‘Is he naughty or mentally unstable?’
‘No, Timmy is a bright boy,’ Constable Sallis said. ‘Truth is, we’ve tried a couple of places already and they wouldn’t take him. He’s a victim of polio – caught it swimming at the pool with his father, they reckon. It was a severe case and he’s had to spend months in an iron lung, but now he’s no longer infectious and the hospital want to release him. Trouble is, it’s left one of his legs weaker than the other, so he has to wear a leg iron and he’ll need to be taken to hospital for treatment every so often. We thought with you having a regular staff of nurses here, you might be able to look after him …’
‘Poor child,’ Angela said. ‘We certainly have room to take him in, Constable. As you know, Sister is away for the moment but I’m sure she wouldn’t refuse.’
‘We should be grateful, Mrs Morton. As I said, the mother has had a breakdown – the doctors think it was too much for her, seeing her son suffering the way he did – so she isn’t able to care for him. I’m not here in an official capacity, but I happen to know the family and I thought, seeing as you’ve got that new wing …’
‘What about the council? Have they not made an order for his care?’ In July of that year the Children’s Act had been passed, which meant that there was now a Children’s Officer and a committee to look into this sort of thing. It had made a considerable change in the way children’s welfare was managed; these days requests to take children in were more likely to come from the council than the police.
‘No, the case hasn’t come to their attention as yet, and we’re hoping it needn’t. My sister is friendly with Mrs Bent – the lad’s mum – and she offered to look after him, but the hospital won’t allow it. They say it must be a children’s home or a relative, and the only relative is Timmy’s grandmother and she isn’t up to it. Poor old girl is willing, but she ought to be in a home herself.’
Angela hesitated; a child with Timmy Bent’s affliction would need a great deal of extra care and the nurses already had enough to do, but how could she refuse? She wished she could discuss his case with Sister Beatrice, but with the Warden in hospital it was down to her to make the decision.
‘You are certain that the infectious stage is over? I understand that poliomyelitis is a very contagious disease.’
‘May I suggest that you go along to the hospital and discuss it with the doctors there?’ Constable Sallis said. ‘I know you have to think of all the other children here, Mrs Morton, but the doctors know what they’re talking about. They wouldn’t send the boy out unless he was ready, would they?’
‘No, I’m sure they wouldn’t,’ Angela said. ‘I shall visit him and talk to his doctors, discuss what extra treatment he is going to need, and then I must consult the nurses. However, if at all possible, we shall be pleased to take Timmy in at St Saviour’s.’
‘You don’t know what a relief it is to hear you say that, Mrs Morton. Mrs Bent would hate it if her boy was sent off to some sanatorium in the country somewhere she couldn’t visit – and I think Bert would go mad when he got back from sea. Timmy will be all right here – and it’s only temporary. The family will want him back once they’re on their feet again.’ He smiled at her. ‘When will you speak to the doctors at the hospital?’
‘I’ll visit this afternoon and I’ll pop into the station and leave a message for you when I’ve made my decision.’
‘Thank you. I can rest easy now I’ve done my bit. He’s a good lad, Mrs Morton. It’s a rotten shame what’s happened to him.’
‘Yes, it is a terrible disease,’ Angela agreed. ‘I only wish someone would come up with a vaccine for it.’
‘Acco
rding to what I’ve heard, there’s no cure,’ Constable Sallis said. ‘It takes its course and the victims either get over it or die. Too much of it about around here, I can tell you.’
‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about that, but if we can help Timmy we shall,’ Angela promised.
‘I don’t know what we’d do without St Saviour’s, and that’s the truth. You know what they call you around here?’ Angela shook her head. ‘The ’Alfpenny Angels,’ he said, and grinned.
Angela smiled but made no reply. Constable Sallis had confirmed her view that St Saviour’s was needed here, right in the heart of the East End where dirt and poverty were still the twin enemies. It was all very well for Henry Arnold to talk of fresh air and the benefits of the countryside, but here in Halfpenny Street they were accessible to children like Timmy Bent – and here was where they must stay.
Abandoning the letters she’d been about to write, Angela went in search of Staff Nurse Michelle. She would have a chat with her before she went to the Infirmary to determine Timmy Bent’s future …
‘I’m really glad you asked me out this evening,’ Angela said as Mark held the door of his car for her. ‘I needed to get away and relax for a few hours.’ Her visit to the hospital and the ward where children suffering with terrible diseases were lodged had distressed her, though she’d made up her mind to take Timmy Bent into St Saviour’s. Her brief visit to his bedside with the comics and sweets she’d bought for him had instantly convinced her that she needed to help. It wasn’t so much that Timmy needed to be at St Saviour’s, it was the fact that Angela couldn’t leave him where he was to save her own life. One look at his pale wan face and her heart was won. She would have moved heaven and earth to help him.
‘Work getting you down, Angela?’ he asked as he tucked the skirt of her smart dress in so that the door did not damage it as it closed. He went round and slid across into the driving seat. ‘I know the feeling. Sometimes it simply overwhelms you and everything seems too much.’
‘I’ve been working all hours to catch up on my reports. I don’t think I realised quite how much of a load Sister Beatrice was carrying,’ Angela said with a wry smile. ‘There isn’t an hour in the day when someone doesn’t have a question or some decision that needs to be made. The staff come to the Warden on all sorts of matters, whether it’s a child who keeps leaving the bathroom in a mess or one that’s been caught playing truant from school. And then there’s the staff themselves: Michelle came in late one morning; she had to look after her brothers while her mother went to the hospital with her father, so I had to ask Paula to work longer. Next week will be even worse because Sister was due to make her monthly visits then, and I haven’t the faintest idea what I ought to do …’
