by Anna King
As yet she hadn’t replied to Nobby’s letters, for the simple reason she didn’t know what to write. With Stanley it was easier. She knew now she didn’t love him any more, but that was something she would have to keep to herself until she could see him face to face. Until then the feelings she had for Nobby Clark would have to remain under wraps. But knowing he was stationed in England, and could turn up on her doorstep any moment, caused a ripple of excitement to run through her.
Oh, don’t be so daft, she rebuked herself sternly, he’s not going to be able to just drop everything and come calling whenever he felt like it. Not with the Blitz still raging and every fighter pilot on standby. There was no chance of another leave until the Blitz was over, and the Lord only knew when that would be.
When the bus turned up Grace had to stand all the way to Liverpool Street.
Four hours later she was on the same bus coming back.
The conductor, remembering her from earlier in the day, quipped, ‘’Ello, ’ello, you following me, love, and me married with eight kids…’
Weary though Grace was, the cockney conductor’s cheery attitude raised her spirits immediately.
‘Eight kids, eh? You’ve been doing your warwork then.’
The man grinned. ‘I know, I know. It’s hard work, but someone’s gotta do it.’
Getting off at the bottom of Well Street, Grace stood in line for another hour for her meat rations. Then she had to join the dwindling queue outside the grocer’s, but because of the lateness of the day, she came away empty-handed, her heart sinking at having to tell her nan there would be no tea today. Her feet were aching, she was tired, cold and hungry, and all for nothing. Maybe she would have better luck up Mare Street.
She was trying to decide what to do when a bus came along and, without thinking, Grace jumped aboard. At least she would save her aching feet from having to walk to the high street. Grace paid her fare, sat down, and leant back tiredly against the seat, fighting the desire to close her eyes for a moment’s rest. It was only a short journey, a matter of three stops, and she didn’t want to take the chance of falling asleep.
Maybe it was because she was so tired and it was beginning to get dark that Grace got off at the wrong stop. Whatever the reason, she walked up a side street, and, turning the corner into Mare Street, she found herself standing in front of the ruins that had once housed the Plaza cinema. As if a door had slammed shut in her face, Grace stood motionless, staring down at the heap of rubble. None of the family had come this way since the night Sam and Hetty had died, preferring to keep their loved ones alive in their minds, the way they had last seen them. And now, by either design or simple misfortune, Grace was staring down at the burial ground of her parents.
A swirling mist came down over her eyes as she tried to back away, tried to flee the awful scene, but her legs refused to obey her. A sudden high-pitched scream brought Grace’s feet from underneath her, and then she was on her knees, her fingers pulling away the bricks and mortar that were her parents’ grave, while the screaming went on and on. Her knees scraped and pouring with blood, as were her hands, she continued to scrabble among the debris, calling out frantically, ‘It’s all right, Mum. It’s all right, Dad. It’s me, Gracie. I’ll get you out. Just hold on… Just hold on…’ And still the screaming persisted from somewhere. Then hands were pulling at her, trying to stop her getting her parents out from beneath the debris. Only then did she realise that the screaming was coming from her own lips.
Viciously hitting out at the hands that were trying to pull her away, she cried piteously, ‘Please, help me, someone help me.’
In the deepening gloom she could see a small crowd had gathered, their faces solemn and embarrassed at the young woman’s raw grief. Trying to reassure them, Grace looked up and again cried, ‘It’s all right, I’m not mad… really I’m not… But my parents are buried under there. They might still be alive. Please…’ She held out her bleeding hands in supplication. ‘Please, won’t anyone help me get them out?’ Her eyes flickered from one face to another, and the men and women began to shift awkwardly, lowering their gazes, unable to witness the anguish in the young woman’s tear-filled eyes. Then they could only watch helplessly as the woman turned her back on them and continued to claw amidst the ruins of the cinema.
It was then that three women stepped forward and dragged the screaming, fighting Gracie away, shouting, ‘It’s all right, ducks. Yer’ll be fine. Just tell us where yer live an’ we’ll get yer safely back ’ome. C’mon, love, tell us where yer live, an…’
But Grace kept on screaming and lashing out at the restraining arms, until one of the women lifted her hand and brought it down sharply across Grace’s face. Stunned, Grace could only look from one face to another in bewilderment. Why wouldn’t they help her? Why wouldn’t anyone help her? Then her inner voice screamed, Because they’re dead, you stupid bitch. They’re dead and buried. They’re dead, they’re dead. They’re never coming back… Never, never, ever…
Her body now limp, Grace felt the darkness enfold her, then the rushing dark tunnel came spiralling towards her, and this time she was unable to fight it. Her head lolling back on her shoulders, she let herself slide down towards the darkness, and felt the velvety comfort of the black void softly surround her. With a soft sigh, she gave herself up to the comforting arms and sank into a place where no one could hurt her any more.
* * *
The hours turned into days, and the days into weeks as Grace drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind hovering between the real world and that other place, where it was warm and comforting and dark; where there were no worries, no heartache, and, most important of all, no responsibilities.
But Gracie’s character was too strong to allow her to slip into total insanity. She was aware of her family sitting by her bedside, crying and coaxing her to come back to them, but she hadn’t wanted to come back, to return to the agonies and turmoil of life.
Yet as the dark winter faded, and spring burst into being, bringing with it lighter, warmer days and a welcoming lift of spirits, Grace began her journey back to reality. Finally, she awoke from her long sleep and looked with clear eyes at her surroundings. She was in a room that contained only two beds, the other being empty, and as she struggled to sit up she became aware of the heady smell of freshly picked flowers, which adorned the room.
Blinking rapidly, she forced herself to sit upright, and as she did so, a nurse, her young fresh face beaming with delight, exclaimed, ‘At last! We were beginning to think you were never going to wake up. Proper Rip Van Winkle you’ve been. All right for some, eh!’
Grace looked at the cheerful face with bemusement and tried to speak, but found she couldn’t utter a word. Even if she had been capable of speech, she wouldn’t have been able to get a word in as the nurse kept up a steady line of patter, until, seeming to run out of breath, she took hold of Grace’s hand and, in a softer tone of voice said kindly, ‘Oh, I am glad you’re back with us.’ Patting Grace’s unresisting hand she added, ‘I’d best go and tell the doctor you’re awake, else he’ll skin me alive for not letting him know straight away. You rest now, and I’ll be back in a tick.’
True to her word, the nurse returned almost immediately with the doctor, who, like the nurse, seemed delighted to see her sitting upright and alert. He checked her pulse, then stuck a cold thermometer under her tongue, just as she was about to speak.
‘Well, well, you’ve given us all a great deal of concern, not least your family – who should be bursting through the door at any minute.’ He smiled as he checked his watch, his broad, blunt features stretched into a wide smile.
When the thermometer was removed and Grace was finally able to speak she asked haltingly, ‘Are… are you a psychiatrist? And… and am I in a… a mental ward, or a pro… proper one?’
The doctor, seeing the sudden fear spring into the lovely eyes, took hold of her hand and, in a gentle but firm voice, answered, ‘We don’t have mental wards in this
hospital, my dear. But yes, I am a psychiatrist. And before you say another word—’ he interjected swiftly as he saw alarm flicker over the pale, attractive face, ‘listen to me, Grace. You are not mad, and never have been. Just as we all suffer from physical illness at some time in our lives, many of us also suffer an illness of the mind; that doesn’t make you mad, not in the sense you’re referring to. In your case, your mind desperately needed rest, and anything could have set if off. Unfortunately for you, it was triggered off by a traumatic incident. You could just as easily have been having a good knees-up down your local pub when—’
‘I don’t normally go in for a good knees-up, as you put it, Doctor. But I just might let my inhibitions have a night off soon. I… I think it would do me a power of go… good… Oh, dear… Oh, dear me, I’m so… sorry… I…!’
As the nurse moved forward, the doctor silently shooed her away, mouthing the words, ‘Don’t let the family in until I tell you to, understand?’ The fresh young face nodded earnestly.
Even as the nurse was leaving the room, Grace could hear Aggie’s strident voice in the corridor, and instead of feeling joy at the sound of her nan’s voice, she experienced a moment’s panic and clutched at the doctor’s hand, ‘Please… Please, I don’t want to fa… face them yet. I’m sorry, I ca… can’t explain, but I…!’
‘It’s all right, Grace. I understand.’ So saying he rose and swiftly drew the dark green curtains across the windows and shut the door firmly before returning to her side. He pulled the bedside chair closer to the bed, and watched as the fear faded from his patient’s eyes and her taut body relaxed. He understood only too well her fears at seeing her family, for he had witnessed the same fear many times, and understood the reason for it. For no matter how loving a family – and Grace Donnelly did indeed have a loving family, of that there was no doubt – human nature being what is was, after the initial cries of relief and tears that followed the reunion, the family would, without realising it, begin to assume that person was fully recovered. And before too long they would begin to relate their own troubles, thus replacing the burden of responsibility that had helped send the unfortunate patient over the edge in the first place back on them.
Gently stroking her hand, the kindly man asked softly, ‘Do you want to talk, Grace? I mean really talk, without having to watch what you say, or worry about offending or upsetting anyone? To talk about yourself, and what you want and need, without feeling selfish for putting yourself first for a change? Or would you rather I left you in peace?’
In answer, Grace gripped the strong hand tightly and, after a few quiet minutes, she began to talk.
She talked right through visiting hours, before falling into an exhausted sleep, and when she awoke, the doctor was still there, sitting by her bedside as though he had never left. And Grace began to talk again. And when the Donnelly family turned up at evening visiting time, they were once again, firmly but kindly, sent away. And still Grace talked, until dusk began to settle over the room and the side-light was lit as the nurses performed the nightly ritual of putting up the blackout shutters, before dispensing the night-time cocoa or hot chocolate, if they were fortunate enough to have some in the supply cabinet. The nightly drinks were normally made up with powdered milk, but for Grace, in this, her first night back in the land of the living, the nurses had scrounged some milk for her hot drink. And, after being helped to the toilet by two nurses, she climbed wearily but happily back into her bed, drank her hot beverage gratefully, clasped the tired doctor’s hand warmly, then settled down for her first night’s restful sleep since the war had begun.
* * *
‘There yer go, love. Now, is there anything else I can get fer you, before I go out, or would you rather I stayed with you?’
Aggie, her fat face filled with love and concern, bustled around Grace, who, despite the warmth of the April sun, was bundled up with blankets on the settee, with three large pillows plumped up under her head.
Looking up into the dearly loved face, Grace smiled and said jovially, ‘I’m fine, Nan, honest… And, Nan… now look, don’t go taking offence, but I’m not an invalid, you know, and much as I appreciate all the attention and fuss, I feel like a fraud, lying around being waited on hand and foot when what I should be doing is getting off my backside and out into the world again, looking for a job.’
When there was no answer, Grace peered at Aggie’s face, and was surprised and heartened to see the concern for her well-being mixed with relief.
‘You sure, Gracie, love? Only I ain’t gonna push yer into going back ter work, not if yer don’t feel up ter it.’
‘Oh, Nan, of course I’m up to it. My legs are still a bit wobbly, but if I could find something local…’
‘Like Benji’s…?’ Aggie asked almost fearfully. She knew only too well that her Gracie was worth more than working in a corner shop, but it would be a start, sort of get her used to being out and about. And old Benji was forever asking about Grace. The old boy was getting on and badly needed help running the shop, but he wouldn’t take on just anybody, and had hinted many a time that he’d be only to happy to take Grace on. In the meantime Aggie had been helping out a few days a week. The money had come in useful, and she felt she was sort of keeping the job open for Grace should she decide to take it, before anyone else got their feet behind the counter – and there were many women in the street who would be only to glad to take on such a cushy job.
Grace, too, was thinking along the same lines. It wasn’t the sort of job she was hoping for, but it would help get her back into the swing of things. Then later on, when she had fully recovered her strength and confidence, she would try again for the type of work for which she had been trained. She hitched herself up higher on the pillows and playfully smacked the back of Aggie’s hand.
‘If Benji still wants to take me on,’ she said, ‘then you can tell him I’ll start on Monday. In the meantime, I’m getting off this settee, and out into the garden to get some sun on my face. I must look as if I’ve been buried and dug up again.’ She laughed merrily.
At the sound of the old Grace laughing, Aggie’s body slumped with relief. Then, her face wreathed with smiles, she said gaily, ‘Well, I’d best be off then. Someone’s got to do some work around here. I’ll be back at dinner time; I’m only working the morning today.’
With a last hug, Aggie almost bounded from the room. When the front door slammed, Grace lay for a while before pushing back the suffocating blankets and swinging her legs over on to the carpeted floor. She still felt a bit unsteady on her feet, and she had lost a lot of weight during her illness, but that period in her life was behind her. Now she had to look to the future.
Once out in the garden she flopped into a large wicker chair and took out, for the umpteenth time, the letters from Stanley and Nobby from her pocket. Both men had been informed of her illness, but neither had been able to get any leave to visit her – and for that she was grateful. She was going to take the doctor’s advice and concentrate on herself for the time being. She wasn’t going to worry about either Nobby or Stanley, for each in their own way caused her anxiety, though both of them genuinely cared for her; she didn’t want to be bothered with any form of hassle at the moment.
Deciding against re-reading the letters, she held up her face to the healing rays of the sun and relaxed, letting her mind dwell on the changes that had occurred during her absence. Vi was still working up West, but she had been spending more time at home while Grace had been in hospital, and since she had returned home. That wouldn’t last once Grace was up and about again, but it had shown that despite her airs and graces, she still loved her family. Then there was Beryl – no change there. Her sister-in-law had carried on as usual, having a good time on her uncle Danny’s money. But the biggest change had been in Polly. That once shy, timid girl had altered greatly, the reason being the company of Linda Castle, Rene’s daughter, who had latched on to Polly and coaxed the frightened girl from the basement and out into the world ag
ain. They were both now working in the Mare Street branch of Woolworth’s, and now the lighter evenings were back, Polly had actually been going out with Linda after work. Only to the social club down at the local church, and she was always home before dark, much to Linda Castle’s annoyance, but at least she was going out, and that was the main thing. Before Grace’s breakdown, she had imagined her younger sister would spend the duration of the war down in the basement. Grace gave a short laugh. The experience she had been through had been horrendous, but some good had come out of it, and with her nan back to her old belligerent self, it meant Grace had less to worry about, and that in itself would help speed her recovery. Shifting herself to a more comfortable position she closed her eyes and let her body relax, her mind drift aimlessly, and soon, despite her resolution to stay awake, she felt herself floating away into a restful sleep.
* * *
Surrounded by the salty smell of pickled herrings, overripe fruit and vegetables that were on the turn, Grace smiled at the last customer of the day, then locked the door, and turned the door sign to closed. As usual, minutes later there was a banging on the door accompanied by a pleading voice asking to be let in, a plea that Grace ignored. She had been working in the shop for only three weeks, but had soon learnt that if she let in one late customer, there would be another and another. In fact she would have been stuck in the shop until midnight if she had carried on being so soft.
When the banging finally ceased, Grace made her way to the back of the small shop, calling up the stairs, ‘Benji, I’m off now. Do you need anything before I go?’
