A Nurse's Duty

by Maggie Hope

  It was as she was walking back in the gathering twilight that she met David Mitchell just coming out of the corner shop with a packet of cigarettes in his hand.

  ‘Hallo, Karen,’ he said, falling into step with her. ‘If I’d known you were out walking I would have come with you.’

  She did not give him a tart reply as she might have done before the death of his father the year before, for she had seen him vulnerable and filled with a natural grief that day and it had softened her view of him. Still, she had refused to go out with him whenever he asked her for her mind was full of her ambitions and she couldn’t think of anything else. Until now, that is. Today her ambitions had all come to nothing. She would never get a place on a training course at a big hospital; what was the use of trying any more? She felt worthless and humiliated and so Dave’s attentions were balm to her soul.

  ‘That would have been nice,’ she said, and Dave stopped walking in astonishment.

  ‘Do you mean it?’

  She turned to face him. Though now it was almost dark she could see little of his expression. But there was his outline against the darkening sky, large and strong-seeming, his cap pushed to the back of his head so that the brim made a kind of halo above him.

  ‘I do,’ she said, and moved out of the way for the lamp-lighter, plodding from lamp to lamp with his long pole. Dave bent his head to hers and she closed her eyes as he touched her closed mouth with his. Something trembled within her, disturbing her.

  ‘I have to go now, Da doesn’t like me to be out in the dark on my own,’ she murmured. There was the hiss of gas as the lamplighter touched the end of his pole to the gas jet in the lamp and she saw Dave’s face properly. He was gazing down at her, his expression triumphant.

  ‘You’re my girl now,’ he said, and took her arm and held it over his. He walked with her to her gate and paused, his arm sliding round her. Karen glanced nervously at the uncurtained kitchen window where she could see Da sitting by the fire. Fortunately, his back was to them. Dave bent and kissed her, his kiss more insistent this time, pressing her lips on to her teeth so that she bent her head back as far as it would go.

  ‘Karen! Come inside this instant, do you hear me?’

  Both Dave and Karen jumped guiltily and she sprang back. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said hurriedly and ran up the yard to where her father stood towering in the doorway.

  ‘What do you think you are doing, making a spectacle of yourself in the row? Showing yourself and your family up, you are, my lass. How could you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Da.’

  ‘But it’s not like you, lass, letting a lad kiss you and put his hands on you in the back street, and you not even courting! You must pray to God …’

  ‘I am courting, Da,’ said Karen quietly.

  ‘What? You and Dave Mitchell?’

  ‘We’re walking out, Da.’

  Thomas gazed down at his daughter, puzzlement plain on his face. ‘But I thought … I thought you weren’t interested in him? I thought you wanted to be a nurse, Karen?’

  ‘Well, there’s a big difference between wanting to and having the chance to, Da,’ she said, unable to keep a bitter note from creeping into her voice as she walked to the row of hooks under the stairs and hung up her shawl. ‘I’m sorry if I made a spectacle of myself,’ she went on, ‘I won’t do it again.’

  ‘All right, lass,’ said Da. ‘You know, Karen, sometimes we have to accept what God wants us to do, not yearn for what we can’t have.’

  ‘Yes, Da. Now I think I’ll go to bed, I feel a bit tired. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight and God bless you, lass.’

  Once in bed, Karen found herself unable to sleep, her thoughts were so mixed up. There was the insidious feeling of defeat underlying everything else. Dully she considered the options open to her. She could be an assistant nurse at the workhouse hospital and accept the fact that she would go no further. Or she could take a typing course in Bishop Auckland; that and her Certificate of Secondary Education would get her an office job, she felt sure. But she didn’t want to work in any office, that was something else she was sure of. She could carry on as she was doing now, working in the hospital kitchen and helping Mam in the house until such time as she should marry Dave. Dave … that was another disturbing thought. When he had touched her lips with his under the street lamp on the end of the rows she had felt something, an urge to hold him closer, to consider the strange trembling inside her, as though something long dormant was stirring at last. She touched her bottom lip which was still slightly sore from the way Dave had pressed it against her teeth out there by the back gate. And for the first time she wondered what it would be like to be married to him, to go to bed with him and have him take her in his arms.

  Chapter Three

  KAREN HEARD THE postman coming down the row, pausing every now and then as he delivered his letters. She cocked her head, listening. Not that they got many letters in their house, she thought, but there might be one from Gran. She wrote lovely, newsy letters. Anyway, Karen could do with some diversion.

  The footsteps came nearer and stopped. She dropped the shift she had been mending on the bed and ran downstairs, getting to the door only a second after the postman knocked. But the letter which the postman was holding out to her was not from Gran, she saw. The buff-coloured envelope had a typewritten address and was stamped ‘Royal Victoria Infirmary’.

  ‘I’ve had an offer from the RVI,’ Karen said baldly, the moment she walked into the Mitchells’ sitting room where Dave sat, having just come off shift. The welcoming smile froze on his face and he jumped to his feet for he knew exactly what she meant.

  ‘You’ll have to tell them you can’t go,’ he said. ‘We’re getting wed on Saturday, how can you?’ His voice was assertive enough but his eyes were anxious. Karen stared at him, unhappiness welling up in her. ‘I wanted to go so badly, Dave,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, why can’t women be like men? Why do they have to choose between getting wed and having a career?’

  Dave shrugged. ‘Don’t be daft, Karen,’ he snapped. ‘Women are women, that’s why.’

  ‘But why shouldn’t I go, Dave, if you agreed to it?’ demanded Karen. ‘We could put the wedding off –’

  ‘No!’

  He stepped forward and took hold of her by the shoulders. ‘You’d rather go nursing than be wed to me, is that it?’

  ‘No! No, I didn’t mean that,’ she said, but her tone was unconvincing even in her own ears. Dave stared down at her for a moment, his face under the layer of coal dust tense and angry. Then he relaxed as he thought of a solution.

  ‘Don’t tell them you’re getting wed,’ he said. ‘Just go. They’ll be none the wiser. Then, when you’ve finished your training, you’ll get work nearer home. It’s a champion idea, really.’ He nodded his head and sat down in his chair again, resting his feet on the steel fender before the fire.

  ‘I’ll have to tell them, Dave,’ she protested. ‘And what about us, anyway? I’ll have to live in, you know. What sort of a wife will I make then?’

  ‘You’ll have days off, won’t you? I’ll be all right. I’ll be living here with me mam anyroad. I tell you, it’ll be just fine. Think about it, Karen, man, we’ll be a lot better off if you have a good job to look forward to in a year or two.’

  She stared at him, sitting in his pit clothes before a blazing fire despite the fact that it was a warm day, one of the first warm days of the year. And one part of her mind noted that even in his pit clothes, Dave Mitchell was a fine-looking man; tall for a pitman and broad-shouldered. The red-gold of his hair glinted even through the coal dust plastered to it and his blue-green eyes sparkled too.

  ‘I’d have to lie,’ she said.

  ‘No, no, lass, you won’t. Just don’t say anything.’

  Dave got to his feet and lifted a work-calloused hand to the back of her neck, drawing her to him. His eyes darkened as he gazed at her mouth; he was determined he wasn’t going to wait any longer for her. They were g
etting wed on Saturday even if it did mean he had to let her go off on this nursing thing she was so set on.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about what kind of a wife you’ll make, lass, you’ll be the one I want,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’ll get me all black,’ Karen said weakly, but already her lips were tingling in anticipation of his kiss. And when he kissed her she melted into his arms, and the tingle spread over her whole body.

  ‘What’s on here, like? You two are not wed yet, you know.’

  The lovers sprang apart at the sound of Mrs Mitchell’s voice. They hadn’t heard her come in, they were so lost in each other. Karen’s face flamed with embarrassment. She looked down at her cotton dress and brushed at the smudges of coal dust she saw there.

  Mrs Mitchell stared at her with grim disapproval. ‘I think you’d better wash your face an’ all,’ she snapped. ‘This is a respectable house. I’ll not have you going out of it with coal dust on your face like that. Not when you’re not wed yet.’

  ‘Oh, Mam, leave Karen alone, we’ve not done owt wrong,’ said Dave roughly, and Mrs Mitchell softened immediately.

  ‘Eeh, no, lad, I never said you’d done owt wrong. I’m just telling the lass for her own good.’

  Over his mother’s head, Dave pulled a wry face at Karen and shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I’ll go then,’ she said.

  ‘Aye, that’s right,’ Mrs Mitchell answered, turning her back.

  ‘An’ don’t forget what I said,’ Dave called after her.

  Walking back along the rows Karen felt the excitement rising in her. She could train as a nurse and still marry Dave. Why shouldn’t she? If Dave didn’t object to her being away in Newcastle for most of the time then that was the important thing. She would write a letter accepting the offer of a place as soon as she got home.

  ‘It’s not right, our Karen,’ Da said sternly that evening. ‘It’s a lie and lies never do any good.’

  She listened respectfully, just as the family always listened to Da, but she did not change her mind even though her father stated his views on the subject of lying every day during the following week.

  ‘I’ve hardly had time to breathe,’ commented Karen. It was her wedding day and she stood before the tiny mirror in the bedroom as Kezia combed her hair and pinned it on top of her head, curling strands round her finger and pulling them into place on Karen’s brow.

  ‘You’ll be fine as soon as you get the ring on your finger,’ Kezia reassured her. ‘Why, I thought the time would never get around to three o’clock the day me and Luke got wed. Everyone feels like that.’

  But I don’t feel like that, Karen thought, though she didn’t say it. What she felt was that time was galloping on and soon there would be no turning back for her.

  ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, our Karen?’

  Kezia’s words made Karen give her a startled glance. It was as if her sister had read her thoughts.

  ‘I mean, going off to Newcastle next month. I know you’ve got your heart set on nursing but –’

  ‘I’m going,’ said Karen.

  Kezia took up the red roses she had picked that morning from Luke’s garden to twine in Karen’s hair. She was silent for a few minutes, her mouth full of hairpins, but eventually the task was finished to her satisfaction and she stood back, taking the last pin from between her lips.

  ‘There, what do you think of that?’

  Karen gazed critically at her image in the glass. The roses did look nice, she decided, and at least they provided some colour. With her dark hair and eyes above the simple white linen dress, she needed colour. She’d lain awake for most of the night, that was the trouble; she had dark shadows under her eyes and her cheeks were paler than usual. She pinched them between her thumbs and forefingers, bringing a faint rosy glow to the white skin.

  ‘Well,’ she grinned and turned to her sister, ‘at least the roses are bonny, that’s something.’

  ‘Oh, go on, our Karen,’ retorted Kezia.

  ‘Karen! It’s ten to three, it’s time we were going to Chapel.’

  Unaccountably, she began to tremble and her eyes darkened as she stared at Kezia, unable to answer her father.

  ‘We’re coming now, Da,’ Kezia called, and took a firm hold of Karen’s arm. ‘Howay, man,’ she whispered urgently. ‘You’re not going to change your mind and show us all up now, are you?’

  Taking hold of herself, Karen smiled at her sister and they walked down the stairs.

  ‘You look grand, lass,’ said Da, beaming at her, and Karen understood that for today at least nothing would be said about her insisting on going off to Newcastle to train as a nurse. Da was declaring a truce.

  It was only a few steps to the Chapel and Karen took her father’s arm. They led the way, with her mother, grandmother, Kezia and her husband Luke following on. The row was quiet for most of the neighbours were already in their seats but the Minister, not Mr Richardson but a new Junior Minister, was waiting at the door to signal to Mrs Plews, the organist. There was a nerve-racking moment while the others of the family took their seats before ‘Here Comes The Bride’ rang out, embellished by only one or two wrong notes. Abstractedly Karen thought it was very good for Mrs Plews, whose fingers were becoming stiff with arthritis. Then they were walking down the aisle, Karen on Da’s arm and Kezia, as matron of honour, behind them. And Karen forgot about the music as Da released her arm and stepped back and she was looking up into Dave’s face.

  Oh, dear, she thought, I’m not ready for this. She felt a great urge to turn tail and run. Dave looked like a stranger to her suddenly. What was she doing, putting her life in this man’s hands? She glanced at the Minister and he smiled back – an understanding smile, but she knew he didn’t understand. How could he? He was too young, he wasn’t Mr Richardson. She had a sudden longing for the old Minister and his son; Robert would have helped her. She looked again at Dave and forced the panic down, deep into the pit of her stomach. She had to go on with it now, she had to make it the right thing.

  The organ was playing the introduction and the music of Charles Wesley’s lovely hymn of praise swelled up and filled the Chapel. Karen could hear her father’s baritone booming out behind her:

  Love divine, all loves excelling,

  Joy of heaven to earth come down

  Fix in us thy humble dwelling

  All thy faithful mercies crown

  She was overwhelmed by a sense of unreality, hardly hearing the Minister as he spoke to Dave. And then it was her turn.

  ‘Karen, wilt thou take this man for thy lawful wedded husband?’

  Dave nudged her and she looked up at the Minister, startled. What had he said? But of course there could only have been one thing.

  ‘I will,’ she mumbled, and beside her she felt Dave relax.

  Afterwards, they went into the schoolroom for the wedding break fast, Dave holding on to her arm. The feeling of unreality gradually faded and she took a sip of tea. It tasted funny. She didn’t know what it tasted like, she couldn’t think, it was all hot in her throat and made her cough. She turned to Mrs Mitchell who was sitting on her left to ask her about it but Dave caught hold of her arm and pulled her over to him.

  ‘Ssh!’

  ‘But the tea tastes funny,’ protested Karen. ‘I was just going to ask her what she thought of it.’

  ‘Hers’ll taste all right,’ said Dave, and winked broadly. ‘I didn’t put anything in Mam’s tea.’

  ‘Dave!’ Karen was horrified. She looked over to the Minister but thankfully he wasn’t taking any notice, too deep in conversation with her father. Glancing round at the chattering guests, she lifted the cup as though she was going to take a sip and sniffed. Rum! That’s what it was. She’d smelt it before, coming from the open door of the Vulcan Inn.

  Karen looked at her new husband. She couldn’t believe he had brought strong drink into the Chapel schoolroom.

  ‘The Minister will smell it, Dave! And what about Da?’ Dear Lord, Da
would never be able to hold his head up in Chapel again if this came to light.

  Dave grinned. ‘They won’t smell it, pet. Eat some ham and it will take the smell away. Aw, howay, lass, I just thought we’d liven things up a bit, what’s a sip of rum?’

  Karen was in a panic. Desperately she swallowed what was left in her cup to get rid of it and hastily ate up her ham and salad. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dave put his hand in his pocket.

  ‘I don’t want any more, Dave,’ she said urgently, ‘nor you neither.’

  He laughed and slipped the bottle back. ‘All right, all right. But you’ll have to make it up to me later on, mind. We’ll see if we can get away early, eh?’

  ‘If you like, Dave,’ said Karen, who was willing to agree to anything if he drank no more rum, not in the schoolroom.

  The rest of the reception was spoiled for her. She kept her head down all the time in case anyone smelled the rum on her breath and mumbled her thank yous through almost closed lips when the guests offered their good wishes. All she could think of was getting away into the fresh air. It was the first time she had tasted alcohol and she couldn’t understand how anyone could drink it for pleasure. She felt sick and her head was beginning to thump painfully.

  At last the speeches were over and the last congratulations given. This being a Chapel wedding there was no dancing afterwards.

  ‘You’re going already?’ asked a surprised Kezia when Karen and Dave stood up to go.

  ‘I … I have a bit of a headache,’ said Karen.

  Kezia nodded. ‘It’s the strain of it, I should think,’ she said. ‘You’d best get along then.’

  Karen and Dave were to stay in his mother’s house on their own for the night. Mrs Mitchell, showing a rare flash of understanding, was staying with a friend of hers to allow them some privacy.

  The young couple said their goodbyes and went out into the street to be surrounded by the children who had waited patiently for them.

  ‘Shabby wedding! Shabby wedding!’ cried the children. Dave flung the expected handful of halfpennies over their heads. They whooped and scrambled in the dirt and Dave and Karen were at long last free to walk up the rows and into the Mitchells’ cottage. Karen was glad to hang on to Dave’s arm for the fresh air made her feel worse, not better.