Christmas for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

  It wasn’t Charles’s fault their love could not progress; it was the war’s. He was an army captain and put his duty before everything, although this evening had made Alice realise how much that cost him. In any other situation he would have put Mary first.

  Alice looked sideways at Edith, catching her animated face as a spotlight beam swept the sky above them. Far from hating the concert, Edith had loved it, swept along by the stirring music and the sense of occasion. It had been a night to remember. She began to hum along to Mary’s spirited rendition of the ‘Sailor’s Hornpipe’.

  ‘Sounds as if you don’t mind that sort of music after all,’ she said when her friends had finished.

  Edith laughed. ‘I don’t know if I’d want to go to it all the time but that was just what we needed. I can’t get the tunes out of my head.’

  Mary turned around to face them, and in the intermittent light Alice caught her broad smile. ‘See, I said you’d like it. We could go to other concerts if you want, when our days off coincide. There’s usually something on at the National Gallery at lunchtime. Myra Hess, you know.’

  Edith made a non-committal noise.

  ‘Charles used to take me before he grew so busy,’ Mary went on, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Didn’t you? We used to meet there for some music and a quick bite to eat. Remember when they had really strange food? I suppose it was all they could get, and they always like to provide something.’

  Charles chuckled and again turned briefly towards her. ‘Honey and raisin sandwiches, as I recall. Absolutely delicious, if you like that sort of thing.’

  ‘I don’t remember having much choice,’ Mary said archly. ‘But it was wonderful all the same.’

  Alice thought that she might give it a try, if there was ever a spare moment. Not so much for the peculiar sandwiches but for that sensation of being part of something beyond herself, one of a big audience all enjoying the same thing. It lifted you, took you out of your day-to-day worries. ‘I’ll go with you, Mary,’ she said.

  Mary turned again and beamed before catching Charles’s eye as she faced the windscreen once more. Alice caught their look and again sensed that Mary’s concerns had no foundation. If all went well, their day would come.

  Edith sat back against the dark leather of the car’s back seat and Alice thought how she too deserved her chance of happiness. With luck what would be Harry’s final major operation had been booked in for September. In a matter of weeks he would be recuperating and so Edith’s longed-for Christmas wedding was on the cards. Even if such a future was not the one she herself could expect, Alice knew that this was the path Edith dearly wanted, and it looked as if she could continue nursing as well. She felt a little guilty at the relief that news had given her. She relied on Edith’s presence far more than her friend realised.

  For a moment Alice wondered what it would be like: to be able to carry on nursing and yet have the comfort and thrill of a husband. She gave herself a little shake. She must not even let that thought enter her head. No good would come of it. Memories of her heartbreak were still all too vivid and she had absolutely no intention of ever risking such a thing again.

  She shivered and drew her light cotton jacket more tightly across her best summer blouse. All around the crowds were singing, shouting, in high spirits, as the spotlights continued to rake the sky.

  Charles drove them all the way to the end of Victory Walk, which Alice suspected was stretching the petrol regulations, but she was glad as they’d only just made the curfew. He’d slowed the car right down to navigate the last couple of streets, so as not to wake any of the neighbours. The tall, narrow houses rose up from the warm, cracked pavements, their bay windows catching what light there was on their angled glass panes. She and Edith mounted the steps of the nurses’ home, leaving Mary a few discreet moments to say her own goodbyes. They were expecting the home to be winding down for the night but instead a buzz of chatter greeted them.

  ‘Quick, shut the door so the light doesn’t shine out,’ said Edith, surprised that the main hallway lamp was still on. ‘We don’t want to end the night with a telling-off from the ARP warden.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be Billy, that’s for sure.’ Bridget appeared at the foot of the stairs.

  Alice carefully left the door open a crack so that Mary could get in, and turned to face her colleague. ‘Why, what’s happened to Billy? Is he all right?’

  Bridget nodded emphatically. ‘Oh yes. He’s more than all right. He’ll just be a bit busy.’

  ‘Busy? What do you mean?’ Alice was becoming concerned. She half-shrugged off her jacket and then stopped, wondering if she would need to pull it on again.

  Bridget relented. ‘We just got the call. We’re getting ready to go round … Ellen and me.’

  ‘Go round? Go where? Why?’ Edith demanded.

  ‘To Jeeves Street. That’s where the patient is. Can’t you guess? Kathleen’s gone into labour.’

  Edith gasped, then stood stock still. ‘Already? Typical, the one night we go out …’

  Bridget nodded. ‘It’s true. She must be about a month early. So, apparently she had an inkling the baby was on its way and went around to take Brian to Mattie. Then, while she was there, she felt the first proper labour pains. Flo and Mattie told her to stay put rather than try to get back to her house. Stan went out to use the ARP phone to call for a nurse. It all sounds straightforward, even if it’s come on a bit fast.’

  ‘Well, you and Ellen had the specialist midwifery training and so it makes sense that you go.’ Alice flashed a look at Edith, who nodded in acknowledgement.

  ‘Yes, but you and Alice delivered a baby in the Anderson shelter in a raid,’ Bridget pointed out. ‘After that, anything else must be a doddle.’

  Edith raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Delivering Mattie’s son in such circumstances wasn’t something she’d care to repeat, although at the time there had been little choice; they’d simply had to get on with it.

  ‘Wouldn’t she rather you two went?’ Bridget asked. ‘I know you’ve just come in, but you’re her friends. I mean, we’re almost ready to leave, but if you wanted …’

  Edith had been all for going upstairs to her attic room but now she had a surge of renewed energy. ‘What do you think, Al? Shall we? It is Kath, after all.’

  Alice too had been looking forward to a proper night’s sleep but this news changed all that. She nodded vigorously. ‘I think we should.’

  Edith smiled in anticipation. ‘Just think, Kath and Billy’s baby! I can’t wait to meet him, or her. Come on, Al, let’s get our bags and go over there as fast as we can.’

  In the end it made little difference who turned up from the nurses’ home. By the time Alice and Edith arrived, an exhausted but ecstatic Kathleen was sitting propped up in Flo and Stan’s comfortable old double bed, a tiny scrap with jet-black hair in her arms. A small pink face was just about discernable, surrounded by clean white sheets and a crotcheted baby blanket that Edith recognised from when Alan was a newborn.

  The new mother was not too tired to grin broadly at the nurses. ‘Here she is,’ she whispered. ‘My little girl.’

  Edith dropped to her knees. ‘A girl! Oh how lovely. Brian has a baby sister. What a little beauty.’ She rocked back on her heels. ‘We’ve brought our bags – is everything all right, Kath? We should check you over, the pair of you, now we’re here.’

  Flo laughed from the doorway. ‘Yes, we’ll make the most of you. But I can tell you everything is how it should be. After all, I should know.’ She gazed affectionately at the young woman who lay in her own bed. ‘Gave birth to three of my own and been there for my first granddaughter’s arrival, don’t forget. I might not have the medical words for what just happened but I’d call it a textbook birth. Couldn’t wait to come into the world, this little one.’

  Kath gave a short laugh. ‘I wouldn’t say it was easy, but compared to when I had Brian, or even worse, what Mattie went through with Alan – well, I’m lucky.’ She r
eturned her gaze to her daughter. ‘Very lucky. Just look at her. She has her daddy’s hair.’ She looked up again. ‘Where’s Billy gone? He went downstairs just before you two arrived.’

  Flo folded her arms across her apron. ‘Well now, Stan thought it only right to wet the baby’s head, so he’s opened some of that beer he was given at Christmas. He’s pleased as Punch of course. I’ll let you two do what you have to do and then you must come down and join us.’

  Alice and Edith left again shortly after, knowing they were surplus to requirements. They pushed their bikes along, too tired by now to ride them the short distance to Victory Walk.

  ‘Oh, she’s a healthy little creature. Seven pounds ten,’ Edith said and Alice nodded. ‘They haven’t decided what to call her yet, have they? There’s talk of maybe Billy’s mother’s name, but I didn’t catch what it was.’

  ‘Probably won’t be named after Kath’s mother,’ Alice commented, knowing that relations between the two were strained, to put it mildly. ‘Still, time enough for that. Are you going to mass tomorrow morning, Edith?’

  ‘I might well do that.’ The Irish nurses were much more frequent attendees than Edith was, but perhaps she could go and give thanks that Kath and Billy had their daughter safe and sound.

  Alice trundled the bike across the high road, feeling a pleasant sense of weariness overtake her. There were no cars, vans or buses to be seen, and the night all around them grew quiet. ‘I might go to church myself,’ she said. Then, catching the expression on Edith’s face, she paused. ‘What is it?’

  Edith gave a small grin as she rebalanced the creaking old bike, bumping it up over the white-painted kerb. ‘That’s quite an impressive weight for a baby that’s come a month early, don’t you think?’

  Alice navigated the kerb beside her. ‘Seven ten – I suppose so … why, Edith, what are you getting at? Oh. I see. Yes, you could be right.’

  Edith shrugged. ‘Not that I mind, but I’ll bet you anything that’s no premature birth. No, odds are that she’s a full-term baby. I shan’t say so to anyone else but that’s what came into my mind as soon as I saw the weight.’

  Alice rolled her eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter, does it? As long as she’s well, and Kath’s all right, and Billy’s happy.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter one bit.’ Edith swung the bike neatly around a pothole. ‘Tell you what, after mass and church, we could maybe make something for them – see what ingredients we can get together. They’ll be too busy to cook.’ She blinked in sudden tiredness and stifled a yawn. She for one would not judge Kathleen if she had indeed pre-empted her marriage vows. She was in no position to do that. Not that she’d confided – even in Alice – just how she and Harry had said their farewells before his last trip to France. She was the last person to begrudge a loving couple whatever comfort they could find, before who-knew-what perilous future might overtake them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Clarrie waved to Peggy across the production line and mouthed something, but the combined noise of the machinery and the closing moments of Workers’ Playtime on the wireless meant that whatever she was saying was completely inaudible. Peggy frowned at her friend. ‘Good luck, all workers!’ said the man on the wireless, as he did at the end of every show, and Peggy sighed with relief. That meant she and Clarrie could go for their late-meal break. The factory no longer stopped for lunch; half the workforce had to carry on through the usual hour, and then they were released to the canteen when the first half had finished eating. By that time, Peggy’s stomach was usually rumbling.

  ‘I’ll need more than good luck, thank you very much,’ she muttered to herself as she pitched up the sleeves of her overall. It was too warm for long sleeves but they had to wear them for their own protection. Dust rose as she did so, making her sneeze. Crossly she kicked aside a fragment of cardboard box.

  ‘Here, watch what you’re doing, I could have tripped on that,’ Clarrie complained, though it didn’t sound as if she really meant it. ‘So what do you think of my idea?’

  Peggy looked puzzled. ‘What idea? No, don’t stop to tell me, let’s get to the canteen. I could eat a horse.’

  ‘Fat chance of that,’ said Clarrie, hurrying to keep up with her hungry friend. They fell into line with the rest of their shift, eyeing the watery stew that was on offer. At least there was a good dollop of mashed potatoes to go along with it. They took their trays and found the end of a table where there was room to sit down.

  ‘So, my idea. You still haven’t said.’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘Is that what you were trying to tell me before we stopped? I couldn’t hear you. I could see you were saying something but couldn’t work out what it was.’

  Clarrie took a mouthful of stew and made a face. ‘Not much meat in that, horse or otherwise,’ she said flatly. Then she brightened. ‘All right, what I said was, we should save some of the scraps from the floor before they’re swept up.’

  Peggy’s expression was dubious. ‘What, like the bits of cardboard?’

  Clarrie put down her fork. ‘No, more like the plastic or rubber.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ Peggy tried the stew and grimaced. ‘Ugh, I see what you mean.’

  Clarrie explained. ‘I’m fed up of not being able to buy nice things, not being able to dress up, so I thought we could make our own.’

  ‘How do you mean? What, like clothes? I can’t see how that would work.’ Peggy shovelled more stew and potato into her mouth, too hungry to care what it tasted like.

  Clarrie shook her head and loose strands of her red hair gleamed in the late summer sunlight pouring through one of the high windows, with its panes still crisscrossed with tape in case of bomb blasts. ‘No, not clothes. Jewellery. I’ve tried mending my necklaces when they break, of course, and I’m always catching them in this.’ She patted her hair, still tied up in its old scarf. ‘But I’m tired of them, same old things every time. I reckon we can use the bits that get thrown away, make brooches maybe.’

  Peggy cocked her head. ‘Really? Could we?’

  ‘I’m sure my pa would let us use his tools.’ Clarrie was warming to her theme. ‘If we cut shapes with his hacksaw, we could then file the edges … all right, I can see you don’t believe me but I haven’t come up with the details yet. Give me time, then you’ll see. We could make ourselves glamorous, Peg. Knock ’em dead on the dance floor and all that.’

  Peggy nodded, considering. ‘Been a while since I went near a dance floor. I wouldn’t mind a few new things, and that’s a fact.’ She looked down sadly. They couldn’t wear jewellery while on a shift, for fear it would catch in the machinery, but she had precious little to start with. Her wedding ring was on a chain around her neck these days, and a bracelet Pete had given her after they got engaged sat safely in her bedside drawer. In money terms it wasn’t valuable but it was priceless to her. Other than those, she had a few bits and pieces of costume jewellery but not much else. ‘Do you want to try to make a start later on, then?’

  Clarrie scraped the last of the potato from her plate. ‘I can’t, I’m on fire-watching duty.’ Even though the raids had died out, a group of factory workers had formed a roster to ensure no damage befell the building overnight. Clarrie had recently been recruited, and trained to deal with the effects of incendiary bombs. ‘But you could start looking out for any odds and ends. We should make a start collecting them and then pool what we’ve managed to gather at the weekend.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Peggy glanced at the big clock above the serving counter and stood up. ‘Come on, time to go back. There’s never long enough to chat properly, is there?’

  Stretching with a groan, Clarrie also got to her feet, then followed the shorter young woman through to the factory floor, tucking her stray locks back into their faded strip of fabric. ‘There, that’s the sort of thing I mean.’ As they approached their work stations her eyes were caught by a small fragment of clear plastic, not much bigger than a penny. ‘Not much on its own, I admit, but a few of those together with a
bit of decoration, well, who knows?’

  Peggy nodded, but if Clarrie said anything further it was lost in the rising hubbub of noise as the production lines pounded away and someone turned up the wireless once more.

  With no Clarrie to talk to after the shift finished, Peggy decided to pay her first visit to Kathleen and Billy’s new daughter. The baby was now two weeks old but there hadn’t been a convenient moment to go around to the little house before, and Peggy suspected that the new arrival would not have been short of visitors for the first fortnight of her life. She found Kathleen smiling and happy in her living room, which was such an improvement on the poky flat she’d lived in before. There the main room had been lounge and bedroom to both Kathleen and Brian – and to her ex-husband Ray on the very rare occasions he had been there. Trouble had always followed him on such occasions and Kathleen was far better off without him. Now she finally had a household that she could be proud of.

  Brian solemnly led Peggy to the cot in the corner, where his sister lay sleeping. Peggy breathed in, absorbing the little face crowned with an impressive amount of thick dark hair, just like her father’s. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘Does she sleep like this all the time, Kath?’

  ‘No,’ said Brian before his mother could answer. ‘She cries a lot and wakes me up in the night.’

  Kathleen came across to him and ruffled his hair. ‘But we don’t mind, do we? It’s only because she’s hungry. She soon stops when she’s had a feed.’ Brian nodded and then retreated to the opposite corner, where he had been building a mighty fortress of coloured wooden bricks. Peggy stood up straight again, afraid of waking the tiny creature.

  ‘I brought you something.’ She reached into her battered handbag and drew out a paper-wrapped bundle. Kathleen took it and undid it to reveal a pair of small white woollen bootees, edged in pale yellow ribbon.