4
The graveside service was brief. The coffin with her beloved Tommy in it was draped with a Union Jack and carried on the shoulders of his friends. Nancy only recognised one of them, Ronnie, who she’d met the first day she’d arrived.
Thank God Jane was at her side with her arm through hers. She wouldn’t have got through it otherwise. Seeing the box being lowered into the ground was the worst part. It wasn’t only her Tommy being buried here today – there were others. There’d been one funeral before this one and two more to follow.
Her friend guided her to a waiting car. She wasn’t sure where they were going. She just wanted to get away from here – just looking at the blokes in blue was tearing her apart. She slumped into the corner of the seat and closed her eyes, wishing she were in the ground with him.
She must’ve nodded off because when she woke up she was at Chalfont Major where Oscar’s parents lived. She’d met Jane’s in-laws at the wedding but never spoken to them for very long. She didn’t hold much with God-bothering – and the dad was a vicar.
‘I ain’t sure I want to be here, Jane. It’s nice of you to bring me but I reckon I might be better in London with me own folks.’
‘Well, you can decide that in a day or two. We’re here now and I don’t have time to take you back to London. Come on – let’s get you inside. You can have a nice hot bath and go to bed. It’ll be easier waking up without hearing the aircraft thundering backwards and forwards all the time.’
She was right about that at least. ‘You know what it’s like, don’t you, Jane? When you came here first it was to tell them that Oscar had died.’ She gulped and bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing out loud. ‘But your man wasn’t dead, mine is.’
What happened next was a bit of a blur. Jane give her a hug and then rushed off as she had to be back on duty that evening, leaving her alone with a couple of folk she didn’t know. She was so wretched it didn’t matter where she was. Her Tommy was gone and she had nothing left to live for.
She cried herself to sleep and next morning only got up to use the facilities and then crept back into bed. The vicar and his wife didn’t try and make her get up. They came in regular like with trays but she ignored them. Maybe if she refused to eat or drink then she’d fade away and could be with Tommy wherever he was.
With the blackouts down all the time night blurred into day, and she’d no idea what time it was or how long she’d been huddled in bed hoping she’d die.
This time when the tray, again without comment, arrived she crawled out of bed and collapsed on the floor beside it. First, she drank the tea, then before she realised, she’d eaten everything and felt a lot better for it. Tommy was dead but she wasn’t and she’d better get used to the idea of living without him. Ma would be disgusted with her giving in like this.
She crept to the door and pulled it open an inch – sunshine filled the passageway. The bathroom was empty and she filled the tub with the regulation five inches and when she got out she was feeling a lot better.
Wrapped in a large towel she hurried back to her bedroom and got dressed. Her hair was a mess, needed washing, but once it was up it didn’t look too bad. Her stomach gurgled loudly. Her appetite was back with a vengeance.
Carrying the tray downstairs had proved more difficult than it should. Her head were still a bit swimmy and her legs had a mind of their own. She’d not been inside the vicarage before, as at the wedding she’d only been in the church, the village hall and the garden.
The kitchen would be at the back of this grand house so she headed in that direction. When she pushed open the door Mrs Stanton smiled warmly. There were boxes taped up and labelled lining the passageway and she wondered if the vicar and his wife were about to move somewhere. She was too dispirited to ask.
‘Good, I’m so glad to see that you’re up, Nancy. Thank you for bringing the tray down and I’m glad that you’ve eaten everything. Sit down at the table and I’ll make you something more substantial.’
‘How long have I been up there feeling sorry for myself?’
‘Two days – it’s the 5th of September today.’
Nancy gripped the edge of the table. It should have been their wedding day. Tears trickled down her cheeks but she couldn’t wipe them away, because if she removed her hands she’d collapse on the floor.
‘I’m so sorry, you were going to get married today. Sit down, my dear, and catch your breath.’
Nancy subsided onto the nearest chair and drank the glass of water she was handed. No questions were asked, nothing was demanded of her and, after a few days, she began to feel she would be able to get through this eventually.
Jane had telephoned the day after her arrival but she’d not been up to speak to her. This time she had no excuse although she didn’t want to talk about Tommy.
‘Nancy, I’m so glad that you’re now up and about. Things are frantic at the moment or I’d come and see you. Two girls here have lost their partners; both of them have carried on working.’
‘I should’ve done the same. I’ve let everyone down and am going back to work tomorrow.’
‘No, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t implying that you should do the same. The catering department can manage perfectly well without you for a bit longer. It’s not the same for us.’
‘I know it ain’t. I was never as good as you or Charlotte. Ta ever so for ringing but you don’t need to bother about me.’
Nancy put the receiver down feeling even more wretched than before she’d spoken to her friend. Being so immersed in her own misery she’d forgotten she was supposed to be back at the base by now. That evening she mentioned this to the vicar who was a nice sort of bloke.
‘I took the liberty of ringing Hornchurch and speaking to your CO, my dear. I told them you were in no fit state to resume your duties but would return as soon as you were well.’
‘I’ll be put on a charge. I’m AWOL and that ain’t good.’
‘You are also in a position to resign if you should wish to as for some reason you haven’t signed on for the duration as yet.’
‘I did get a letter but I never read it. Do that mean I ain’t got to go back if I don’t want?’
‘Why would you wish to do that? Being a WAAF is a great help to the war effort and if you don’t stay in the services what else will you do?’
‘I ain’t ready to return to Hornchurch right now. All them bombers and fighters overhead are bad enough here but there it’ll just make me think of Tommy all the time.’
Talking about him was difficult and she needed to pull herself together. Other girls lost their men and they didn’t carry on the way she was doing.
*
She’d been at the vicarage for more than a week and was still feeling right peculiar. Her head kept spinning and she couldn’t swallow nothing. She’d hidden this from the Stantons as she didn’t want them fussing and worrying over her.
‘I’m going for a walk, Mrs Stanton. I need the fresh air and time to think. I know I’ve got to go. This might be the last chance I get to spend time in the countryside.’
‘Of course, Nancy, you take as long as you want.’
She strolled through the churchyard, hopped over the wall at the back and into the fields beyond. She walked briskly enjoying the autumn sun on her face. Then suddenly her head spun and her knees gave way and she toppled forward onto her face.
The grass was warm; the sun beat down on her back. She closed her eyes and let the blackness take her. Something cold and damp pressed against her cheek. Then a hot wet tongue slathered her face. She wanted to tell the dog to go away but remained still. Then someone knelt beside her. She didn’t have the energy to move, to ask them to leave her alone.
‘I’m a doctor. I’m going to check to see if you’re injured. Don’t be alarmed when I put my hands on you.’
She lay passive whilst this doctor checked she’d broken nothing. She should turn over, speak to him, but she didn’t have the energy.
‘Okay
, I’m going to pick you up now.’
He gently rolled her onto her back but she kept her eyes closed. Then he scooped her up and began to carry her across the field. That would be a good time to say she was staying at the vicarage but her head hurt, everything felt heavy and she went back to sleep.
*
Doctor David Denny shouldered his way into his kitchen and yelled for his housekeeper. ‘Ava, I need you. I’ve got an unconscious WAAF I found in the field when I was walking Polly.’
‘My word, whatever next. It must be the one staying at the vicarage. The bed’s made up in the back bedroom – why don’t you put her in there for now?’
He followed her upstairs and waited, with the worryingly quiet girl in his arms, whilst the covers were pulled back.
‘There you go.’
‘I’m going to fetch my bag. Would you stay with her, please. I need to examine her before I decide if I have to call for the ambulance.’
When Julia had died three years ago, he couldn’t bring himself to give away her clothes. What Ava had called the back bedroom had once been the room he’d shared with his wife, and this WAAF could benefit from his inability to move on, to accept that he’d lost his beloved wife.
Ava remained beside the bed as chaperone. The girl’s pulse was shallow, but regular. She had no temperature – didn’t have any sign of a head injury. He stepped back and looked down at the seemingly comatose young woman. She was tiny, no more than five foot, but quite definitely an adult. He stared dispassionately at her rounded breasts, her small waist and the curve of her hips.
Julia dying had also killed his interest in other women. Despite the fact that this young woman was quite definitely beautiful it didn’t move him. He smiled wryly. This was a good thing. Being a doctor, anything but the most professional attitude towards her could get him struck off.
‘What’s wrong with the girl, do you know?’ Ava asked when he returned a few moments later.
‘I’ve no idea what made her collapse, but I’m hopeful that she’s not seriously ill. I think it must be some sort of emotional trauma. You said she’s staying at the vicarage so I’ll give them a ring and let them know their guest is here.’
The vicar had a son who was a fighter pilot and he’d married a WAAF in the summer. He’d been invited to the wedding but had declined as he didn’t socialise any more. It was probably no coincidence that this nameless girl was staying there. No doubt she was a friend of Oscar’s wife.
The operator connected him and Mrs Stanton answered. ‘I was wondering if you know anything about a young WAAF…’
‘Oh, thank God, we’ve had the search parties out. Nancy Evans is a close friend of my daughter-in-law and sadly her fiancé was killed two days before their wedding. Jane brought her to us to recuperate ten days ago. I thought she was doing so well. Is she all right?’
‘I found her unconscious in a field and she’s now asleep in a spare bedroom.’
‘She was having a last wander about before going back to Hornchurch. I’ve no idea why she might have fainted.’
‘I’ll keep her here until I’m sure she’s well enough to leave. I think there’s more to this than just being overwhelmed by grief. Better to have her here where I can keep an eye on her. I’ll ask Ava to collect her things.’
‘If you’re quite sure that’s not an inconvenience, then you must do what you think is best.’
He disconnected without saying goodbye and he asked his housekeeper if she would be prepared to fetch the girl’s kitbag.
‘It’s only down the road a few minutes. It won’t take me long. I’ll nip into the butcher’s whilst I’m out as he said he would have offal this afternoon and I don’t want to miss out on a nice bit of liver for your tea.’
The only reason she wanted to go out was to spread the gossip. He appreciated Ava’s invaluable help in the house but not her tendency to tittle-tattle about anything she heard. Jill Andrews, his receptionist, had to be very careful that the door to the waiting room was closed when she was talking to patients.
He was fond of Jill, a widow whose husband had gone down with his ship somewhere in the Atlantic, but he had no intention of being more than a friend to her. If he showed the slightest partiality then the rumour mill would kick in and Stanton would be asking him when he wanted the church for his next wedding.
Since he’d curtailed her afternoon walk his dog was fussing around his feet, looking hopefully at the lead hanging on a hook by the back door. ‘Sorry, old girl, you’ll have to wait until after evening surgery. Go in the garden and play with your ball.’
Polly was a mongrel, but a pretty one, and had a lot of Labrador and spaniel in her, which meant there was nothing she liked better than chasing a ball and retrieving it.
He glanced at his wristwatch – two hours until his first appointment and he had no visits either today. The midwife, an excellent woman, dealt with births unless there was a complication. Without checking his records, he couldn’t be certain there wasn’t at least one infant due this week.
Ava bustled off with her shopping bag and he thought he’d better check on his patient. The girl had been upstairs for a couple of hours now and she hadn’t been offered anything to drink or eat. It was possible her blood sugar was low, which could be the reason for her collapse.
He was quite capable of making himself a decent meal when he had to but enjoyed having someone taking care of the domestic chores so he could concentrate on his work. Ava came in to make his breakfast and left at six o’clock so she was home to make her own husband’s tea. She always left him something in the slow oven in the Aga for when he’d finished work. She also organised the laundry and kept the house spotless.
The garden was his preserve and he spent all his spare time pottering about out there. He had half a dozen chickens, a few ducks on the pond and grew all his own vegetables. However, he preferred flowers to vegetables and was famous for his perennial border and his rose garden.
He made a sandwich, found a slice of cake in the tin and poured out a mug of tea. He put the three items on a tray, added a napkin, and headed upstairs. The door to the bedroom had been left open and he could see his patient was awake.
‘Excellent, Miss Evans; I’ve brought you something to eat and drink. No arguments, please, doctor’s orders.’
She managed a wan smile but said nothing. He placed the tray across her knees and she didn’t protest. ‘Ta ever so, Doc. I appreciate what you done for me. I ain’t one for fainting and such. Didn’t know losing me fiancé would make me like what I am.’
Good grief – from her accent and syntax she was an uneducated girl from the East End. Young Oscar’s new wife had been a well-spoken young lady – how could this girl be a close friend of hers?
‘Grief is different for everyone, Miss Evans. If you haven’t been eating or drinking properly then it’s hardly surprising you fainted.’ He pointed to the door. ‘The bathroom and WC are at the end of the corridor. My housekeeper has gone to fetch your belongings. Mrs Stanton agreed with me that it would be better for you to remain here as you appear to be rather unsteady at the moment.’
‘It don’t matter to me where I am. I just want to get back on me feet and get off to me job. I’m going back on the bus.’
‘What exactly do you do in the WAAF, Miss Evans?’
‘I’m LACW first class, 1377. I ain’t Miss Evans any more, I’m Mrs Smith – though you can call me Nancy if you want. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Doctor David Denny. Pleased to meet you, LACW 1377.’ He smiled as she pulled a face at him. ‘I beg your pardon, should I have mentioned “first class”?’
‘Too bloody right. I earned the promotions. I’ll be an NCO one day with any luck. I’m in catering – look after the officers like. I were in the stores before…’ Her voice trailed away and her eyes glittered.
‘Eat your sandwich, young lady, and drink your tea. I made them especially for you. I’m going down to eat my own belated lunch.’
&
nbsp; *
Nancy obediently picked up the sarnie intending to take just one bite to show willing, but the bread was fresh, it was butter with actual chicken and pickle inside. She finished that and then demolished the cake and drank the tea.
So far no one had commented on the fact that she was wearing both a wedding and an engagement ring. Having both on, she realised, would tell everyone that she’d spent the night with Tommy. Why else would she be wearing it if it hadn’t been to fool a landlady? She’d told the doctor she was married and Mrs Stanton knew that wasn’t true and would probably have told the doctor that her fiancé had died before they could be married. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to do this.
She wasn’t happy about being palmed off to this doctor bloke. Still, she was leaving anyway so she wasn’t fussy where she was. She felt ever so peculiar, light-headed and wobbly-legged. She wasn’t ever ill, was fit as a flea, bloomin’ strange that Tommy dying had made her like this.
Just thinking about him choked her up but crying and such wouldn’t bring him back. No – time to get on with her life – get back to work and do her bit. She’d been away from her duty for more than two weeks already and that just wasn’t good enough. If there wasn’t a war on, if she wasn’t a girl from the East End, then she’d be able to grieve properly but things were different now.
This doctor wasn’t exactly old, but he wasn’t young neither. She’d only noticed his horn-rimmed glasses and his dark hair. She swung her legs to the mat beside the bed but didn’t stand up until she was sure she wasn’t going to pass out again. She wandered across to the chair and collected her uniform jacket.
It was strange being in his bedroom. Why hadn’t she been put in a spare room? She opened and shut drawers, looking in the wardrobe, checking in the dressing table compartments. None of his things were there; it was all women’s stuff. There were trinket boxes full of knick-knacks, necklaces, rings and bracelets. She held what looked like a diamond ring up to the light and froze.
The East End Girl in Blue Page 4
