Pattern of Shadows

by Judith Barrow

  ‘Yes, but it is not that of which I want to speak.’ It was as though he was caressing her with his voice. ‘It was your first time?’

  Mary blushed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I will treasure it even more, mein Geliebter. I have the memory locked in my heart.’

  ‘And me, my darling.’

  ‘I will go in now you have arrived.’

  ‘You were waiting for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Come on then.’ Mary put her other arm around his back as though helping him to his feet, her face close to his.

  His hand tightened on hers. ‘Be careful who watches.’

  Mary glanced up and took a quick intake of breath. Frank’s friend, Quarmby, was standing by the guardroom. ‘Ignore him. He can’t do anything. I’m just helping you back to the ward.’ But until they got inside the main doors she felt as though their every step was watched. There was no one in the reception area.

  ‘It would be for the better if you let go of my hand, ja?’ Peter said, a mixture of anxiety and amusement in his voice.

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘You forgot something.’ Quarmby’s voice cut through their laughter. He stood in the doorway dangling Mary’s gas mask from his fingers. ‘You should be careful,’ he warned. ‘Carelessness gets you into trouble.’

  His words had frightened her.

  ‘I said it might be a bit soon for him to start work,’ Jean was still talking. ‘Though we’d be glad of him, wouldn’t we? Being a doctor short is difficult and we’re understaffed as it is.’

  Mary sat next to Jean and cut into her chatter. ‘Jean, there’s something I need to say, well, ask, really.’ She knew her friend enough to realise Jean was immediately nervous. ‘I know you told Patrick about Ellen and the baby.’ Jean started to speak. Mary shook her head. ‘You shouldn’t have told him about Frank, you promised not to.’ Jean lifted her chin, the corners of her mouth tightened. ‘But I understand; you needed to talk to him. We all have to confide in someone. I honestly don’t know what I would have done, if I hadn’t got you.’ She smiled, but it was a small worried stretching of her lips. ‘And I know you don’t like having secrets from him, but I need to know if you’ve also told him about me and Peter.’

  ‘No, I haven’t, Mary.’ Jean looked down into her mug again, swirled the tea around. ‘Don’t you think I know what would happen to you if that got out?’ She paused, frowned. ‘But even if Patrick knew … even if he put two and two together and realised that Shuttleworth shot Peter on purpose because you and he are … because of how you feel about Peter.’ She spoke in short breathless bursts. ‘And even though he’s so angry about Ellen he could give Frank a good hiding … he wouldn’t report him for the shooting. I do know that, honestly. Because that would mean …’

  ‘That would mean it would come out about me and Peter. I’d be prosecuted.’ Mary put her hand on her friend’s arm. ‘I’d lose my job.’ Her fingers slipped off as Jean shuffled forward on the sofa, leaning towards the small table in front of them.

  ‘And more, Mary … and more. Your reputation as well, remember that.’ Jean picked up a plate with a cake on it. ‘Look, I don’t want to talk about it, right?’

  ‘But would I lose you, our friendship, if it got out?’ Mary tilted her head to one side, trying to see Jean’s face, but she kept her head down, slicing a large chunk off the cake.

  ‘It won’t get out, I’m sure. But if it did it’d be difficult – you have to admit that – with the way Patrick feels about the Germans. You know how bitter he is about not being able to fight.’ Jean stopped, holding the knife up and pointing in the air with it. ‘I’m glad he couldn’t go. We might not have got together if he’d gone in the army.’ She lifted the slice of cake and slid it on a plate. ‘Not that I’d dare tell him that, of course. Here eat some of this, please, I’m sick to death of it. Mother read somewhere that carrots are as good as sugar and she found a recipe book with a picture of this mad thing in spectacles …’

  ‘Doctor Carrot.’ Mary gave up trying to talk to Jean about her fears and her relationship with Peter. It was obvious she wouldn’t say any more. Mary balanced the plate on her knee. ‘There are loads of pamphlets in the corner shop about it. Ministry for Food leaflets.’

  ‘Yes, well, she’s got this idea we should save on sugar. I asked her, why, when we have Patrick and his never-ending supplies? That reminds me, there’s some biscuits for you somewhere. He brought home two more packets last night.’

  ‘Thanks, Jean. Mam likes sweet stuff. She’s eating precious little else.’ Mary took a bite of the cake and chewed slowly. She had no appetite and it was dry in her mouth. She wondered if Tom was eating properly, wherever he was. ‘It’s good, it’s really tasty.’

  ‘Until you’ve eaten it at least once every day for a week.’ Jean sat back in her chair, her hand resting on the slight swelling of her stomach. ‘Dear God, what a world to bring a child into.’

  ‘It’ll have two good parents.’ Mary sighed. The moment had gone. She could only hope Jean hadn’t said too much to Patrick.

  They sat in silence until Jean said. ‘I haven’t heard any more about the inquest, have you?’ She concentrated on pouring more tea into their mugs.

  ‘No. With it being held in the police court in Bradlow, I didn’t expect to. They did say the verdict would be in this week so it should be in the Reporter sometime soon.’

  ‘I did hear they’d had experts examine Bock’s skull and they said the damage showed he was killed at close range,’ Jean said, ‘which means that Shuttleworth didn’t kill him. It had to be the guard on the ground.’

  ‘We both know Frank wasn’t aiming at Bock.’ Mary willed her to look up. ‘He was shooting at Peter.’

  ‘We’ll never be able to say that to the police.’ Jean arranged Mary’s mug so that the handle was turned towards her and carefully picked up her own. ‘They would ask why …’

  ‘And we can’t say, can we? It would get Peter transferred right away to another camp and me in trouble like we just said.’ They were going round in circles and getting nowhere, Mary thought, at least I’m not.

  Jean’s hand shook and the tea spilled onto her skirt. ‘I’ll get a cloth.’ She jumped up and went out of the room.

  In the silence, the scrape of wooden wheels sounded loud on the road, as the rag and bone man trundled away. Mary looked towards the window and then at Jean as she came back into the room, rubbing at the stain. ‘I’d better get home. See what Mam’s up to.’

  ‘Shuttleworth will always say it was an accident, you do know that, don’t you?’ Jean said, not looking at Mary. ‘As far as everyone else is concerned he has no reason to single Peter out.’

  ‘I know.’ Mary put the mugs and plate on the tray.

  The front door banged. Jean stood up. ‘That’s Mother.’

  ‘Like I said, I’d better go anyway.’ Mary put her coat on and buttoned it.

  ‘Don’t forget the biscuits.’ Jean said. ‘I put them on the stand in the hall just now.’

  ‘Thanks. And I’ll try not to tread on the front step.’ Mary smiled. ‘I wouldn’t want your mother using up her donkey stone because of me. I’ll see you tonight, end of the street, usual time.’

  But on Shaw Street Mary turned in the opposite direction of home, telling herself she needed to think. If she was right, if Jean had told Patrick everything, then things were going to get even worse. His resentment that she had confided in Tom and even his wife about Ellen, but not him, was bad enough. If he also knew about Peter, she was in trouble, one way or the other. He wouldn’t report her, Mary knew that, but how far would his temper take him? What would he do? Mary pushed her hands into her coat pockets. She could only hope she was worrying unnecessarily. Perhaps she was completely wrong.

  She turned up Newroyd Street towards Skirm. At the lake she sat on one of the benches and leaning her elbows on her knees, she put her face in the palms of her hands and wept. She told herself she was crying for her famil
y, for Tom, for Ellen, for her mother. But she was also weeping for the hopelessness of her own life, for her and Peter. If the inquest ruled that Peter’s shooting was an accident, Frank would be cleared. And knowing him as she did, Mary knew it wouldn’t end there; he was too sure of himself. Peter was never going to be safe. And neither was she.

  Chapter 49

  ‘May I have a word, Sister Howarth?’

  Mary looked up from the notes she was writing. ‘Will it take long, Nurse Lewis, I need to finish this paperwork before I go off shift?’

  ‘No, not long.’

  Mary frowned as the woman stepped further into her office and closed the door behind her. ‘Sorry, I did say I only have a minute …’

  ‘I rather think this is something you might not want the rest of the staff to hear.’ Hilda Lewis sat on the chair in the corner of the tiny room.

  ‘Now really, Nurse.’ Mary put the top on her pen and resting both arms across the desk, leant forward. ‘What is it this time?’ she sighed, making no attempt to hide her irritation. ‘Who has done what now?’

  The small overhead light bulb shone on the lenses of Hilda Lewis’s spectacles so Mary couldn’t see the expression in her small dark eyes, but she could see the triumphant sneer in the thin lips. Somebody is definitely in trouble, she thought again, watching Hilda tidy tiny wisps of greying hair under her cap before folding her hands neatly in her lap and recognizing that any hope of halting what was surely malicious gossip had not worked.

  ‘I have something to report.’ The nurse glanced round at the door in an exaggerated fashion and bent forward. ‘Well, perhaps not to report, Sister Howarth, perhaps just to say to you.’

  Mary lifted her chin, an involuntary movement. The woman’s breath was sour. She sat back in her chair, winding the pen through her fingers.

  ‘Yes, it’s probably best you listen carefully.’ Hilda Lewis moved her head slowly up and down.

  Mary shifted, a sense of foreboding moved under her skin. ‘What is it?’

  ‘As you know I’ve been helping on the ward today.’

  ‘You were detailed here, Nurse Lewis, because you were not needed on your own floor today. Get on with it, please.’

  The lenses flashed as Hilda flung her head back and sniffed. ‘Right! I was finishing the dressing on the patient in bed fourteen when one of the guards came into the ward.’ She paused, now visibly enjoying herself again. ‘It was Shuttleworth, the man who was involved in the incident when Doctor Schormann was shot?’ Mary dropped the pen. Annoyed with herself she flattened her hand over it before it rolled off the desk. Hilda nodded. ‘Well, he walked straight up to the Doctor’s bed.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I was going to say something but then they started talking and, seeing as how I was behind the dividing curtains, I thought to myself, if I come out now they’ll think I was listening, so I stayed where I was.’ She paused.

  Mary didn’t move. Her mind raced but she could find nothing to say.

  ‘I thought at first they must be on friendly terms and I was thinking I might have to report that … I mean, as my duty … you know how Matron’s always going on about how wrong it is for anybody to get too friendly with the prisoners.’ Hilda paused. ‘I’ve always made a point of keeping my distance. I hope you’ve noticed that, Sister?’

  Mary moved her head automatically.

  ‘Good! But then,’ she stressed the word, ‘then, Shuttleworth started going on about the shooting, about the findings of the inquest, and I have to say he had a very nasty tone on him. He was saying about the verdicts being justifiable homicide and accidental wounding. He said the words really slowly; especially when he said the accident part of the findings was the bit about him shooting Doctor Schormann.’ Hilda shuffled to the edge of the chair, her hands clasped together on her knees.

  ‘Just get on with it, please Nurse,’ Mary said. She pressed her thumb on the back of her fingers until they were white.

  ‘Then he said something really odd. He said he’d got away with it and he would really have preferred justifiable homicide in Doctor Schormann’s case too. Don’t you think that’s an odd thing to say, Sister?’

  Mary tried to swallow, her throat dry. She took her hands off the table and clenched them in her lap.

  Hilda Lewis watched, waiting for a reply and made a slight shrug. ‘Well, I did. Then Shuttleworth said that the man who’d died had been warned about jumping in and out of line. Shuttleworth said he’d been ordered to watch out for him and that’s why, when he charged at that Gunner, he shot him, his duty, he said … which I suppose it was,’ she added. ‘He then said that Schormann …’

  ‘Doctor Schormann,’ Mary corrected

  ‘Yes, well. He said the doctor just got in the way.’ The woman lowered her voice even more. ‘I had to really listen to hear what he said next.’ She paused. ‘He leant closer to the doctor and whispered … I remember the exact words because I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard them and you’ll be the same …’

  ‘Just get on with it,’ Mary snapped.

  Hilda Lewis raised her eyebrows. ‘Manners cost nothing, miss.’

  Mary let the deliberate slight pass. ‘Just tell me what he said, please.’

  ‘He said, “And if you know what’s good for you; if you don’t want another accident, you’ll stay away from Mary.” And then he did that horrible cracking of his knuckles that men do sometimes … and then …’ She’d leant so far forward now she was holding on to the edge of the desk. ‘And then he said, “I’ll be right on target next time, believe me.”’

  She leant back, her eyes invisible again, but the sneer openly widening her mouth. ‘That was when you came on to the ward with Doctor Pensch. I saw you notice what was happening and the orderly going off. At the same time Doctor Schormann said something.’ Her nostrils flared. ‘It sounded like he was swearing in that horrible language of his.’ She gave a long gusty sigh. ‘I didn’t hear any more but I did see Doctor Schormann do something though, he made a gesture … like this.’ She crooked her forefinger. ‘Shuttleworth leaned towards him.

  ‘That was when Matron came into the ward.’ Hilda sniggered. ‘She told him, didn’t she?’ Her gaze never left Mary’s face. ‘I didn’t hear what Doctor Schormann said, but it really made Shuttleworth mad, though, even though he kept the smile on his face. He said something like, “I can see we’ll have to have words, Mary and me.” And then he checked his watch. Oh, he was mad all right, even if he did do that stupid swagger when he left … just like all the guards do.’

  Mary could feel the bile curdling in her stomach. She understood now, thinking back to when it happened, she knew why he’d pretended to be so cocky. That was why it felt so threatening: she knew it had been pretence. She tried to remember exactly what happened …

  ‘What are you doing in my hospital, may I ask?’ Matron’s voice was icy cold.

  ‘Just seeing how the doctor is, Matron.’ Frank leapt to his feet, the chair legs scraping the polished floor. He tightened his belt and, stretching his neck upwards, straightened his tie.

  ‘You have no right to be here. Please leave.’ Matron fixed a baleful stare on him.

  Frank winked at Mary and swaggered out, feeling in his tunic pocket for his cigarettes. Through the window in the door she saw him light it in the corridor, ignoring the disapproving look from Nurse Lewis, who, seeming to appear from nowhere, followed him out.

  Matron turned to the bed. ‘Doctor Schormann, are you all right?’

  ‘I am well, Matron, thank you, and ready to start my duties.’

  ‘Not yet, I think.’ Matron allowed herself a small smile. ‘But you’re well enough to go back to your own quarters whenever you wish. As long as you let Doctor Pensch keep an eye on you.’ She moved down the ward, but Doctor Pensch lingered by Peter’s bed.

  ‘Ja, mein Freund, wie geht’s?’

  ‘Well, Wolfgang.’ Peter kept his voice steady. ‘Well enough to get out of this place.’

  He didn’t look at Mary. Th
ere was a strange, almost angry tone in the words, but she supposed he was being careful in front of Doctor Pensch. Either that or Frank’s appearance had shaken him. She left the two men and went to the ward door to make sure Shuttleworth had gone.

  He hadn’t. She watched him pace the floor in the reception area taking quick gasping drags on his cigarette. Suddenly he turned and punched the wall with his fist.

  ‘I just thought I’d let you know,’ Hilda Lewis took off her glasses and began cleaning them on a small white handkerchief. She looked myopically in Mary’s direction. ‘I told myself, Hilda, it’s your duty to tell Sister Howarth what these two are saying about her, so I have. It was just a good thing there was no one else around, there’s not many in this place as discreet as me, if I say so myself.’ She wound the wire of her spectacles around her ears and adjusted the nosepiece. Giving Mary such a sympathetic smile that Mary was tempted to slap her, Nurse Lewis stood, straightening the creases in her white apron. ‘Perhaps you’ll let me know what you decide to do?’ She opened the office door. ‘These things need nipping in the bud.’

  Chapter 50

  The puddles on the towpath gradually mirrored the weak dawn sky. Frank slouched against the wall under the bridge. The splash of water dropping into the oily canal and the occasional scream of a cat-fight had been the only sounds during his long wait. He heard her on the gravel path of the bridge above, then her light tread on the steps and threw the half-empty beer bottle into the canal where it bobbed alongside three more. Still leaning, he uncrossed his ankles and shifted his feet so his good leg took his weight.

  Then he pushed one shoulder off the blackened stone and swung around the corner to face her. ‘You just won’t be told, will you?’