Christmas for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

  Gladys finished bandaging the badly swollen ankle and fastened the end with a safety pin. ‘Keep your leg still or it’ll scratch you,’ she said as she completed the task, before coming to sit at the same level as her sister. ‘Now what do you mean? What can be so important that you won’t take the time to rest your injury?’

  Evelyn sobbed again and would not meet her eyes. ‘They’ve got visitors coming to the pub tomorrow,’ she said between sniffing and wiping her nose with a ragged lacy handkerchief. ‘Proper important ones. Maybe one from America, even. They want me to sing for them. This is my big break, I know it.’

  ‘Broken ankle more like,’ said Gladys crossly. ‘Don’t be daft, Evelyn, you aren’t going to be able to walk on this by tomorrow evening. You’ll just have to sing for them another time.’

  Evelyn twisted the handkerchief tightly around her fingers. ‘It’s no good. That Patty Walker, she’s always been jealous of me, and she wanted to do it. Now they’ll let her and she’ll end up on stage when it should have been me.’

  Gladys sighed deeply. This was not the time to talk sense into her sister. She would probably have forgotten it all in the morning anyway, and wake up wondering what had happened to her ankle. Surreptitiously she checked her watch. Her shift was nearly over.

  ‘Come on, fasten your coat. I’ll help you home,’ she said, thankful it was not far to go. ‘Put your arm around my shoulder and hop on your good foot.’

  Evelyn pulled a face. ‘Oh why would I even expect you to understand,’ she said, her expression turning vicious, ‘you’re just a bleeding nurse. A skivvy in the daytime and in the evening just a bleeding nurse.’ Her voice rose in frustrated fury, alerting Mrs Freeman at the far end of the hall, who rose and made her way over.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she said, her words kind but her tone steely. Now her thick glasses made her look stern.

  ‘All under control,’ said Gladys with a cheerfulness she did not feel. ‘It’s time I was going. I’ll take this patient with me – we are heading the same way.’ The last thing she wanted was for her colleague to realise Evelyn was a relative.

  Mrs Freeman drew herself up to her full height. ‘If you’re sure, then maybe that’s for the best.’ Her face showed that she had caught the potent fumes of stale alcohol. ‘I’ll shut up everything after you, then.’

  Gladys nodded in gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ she said, hauling Evelyn to her feet, grabbing her own bag and her sister’s gaudy but ragged one. She knew she would be in for a grilling the next time they were rostered together, but at that moment she didn’t care. She just wanted to get Evelyn home without any further mishaps. ‘Off we go, then.’

  Evelyn glared at her but, having little choice, went along, hopping unsteadily on her one high sandal. Gladys shuffled around until she got the best angle to help her sister, through the creaking big door and out into the street, lit by little other than the anti-aircraft beams crisscrossing the night sky.

  ‘He’ll kill me,’ Evelyn muttered, now more sad than angry.

  ‘Who?’ asked Gladys.

  Evelyn didn’t answer.

  ‘Was it the man who just dumped you here?’ Gladys persisted. She’d been too caught up in her sister’s predicament to wonder about the circumstances of her arrival, but now she thought about it, she was filled with anger towards the man who had simply disappeared. ‘Who’s he when he’s at home, anyway?’

  Evelyn sniffed again. ‘That’s Max,’ she said. ‘His brother runs the pub. Max does the entertainment side.’

  Gladys raised her eyes to the heavens. ‘Does that include getting his singers drunk?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t be like that, he was only being kind. He’s very kind to me, he is, he’s kind a lot.’ Evelyn was rambling, and Gladys knew she would get little sense from her. But she was filled with disgust at someone who pretended to be on the girl’s side and then left her at the church hall door, without so much as checking if she was all right. Anything could have happened to Evelyn, she realised. Somehow she would have to try to persuade her never to go near this Max again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Peggy dismounted from the bus, pleased to be away from the press of people which had meant she had had to stand the whole way from Dalston to the West End. She was glad that she had thought to put her best dancing shoes in her bag and wear her old flat work shoes, or she’d have started the evening with sore feet before the fun had even begun. Still, it was hard not to get caught up in the general air of excitement that pulsed through the crowds on the busy streets. Dusk was turning to nightfall but the pavement was heaving.

  Quickly she found a shop doorway with a broad windowsill. Brushing it clean as best she could, she sat down, opened her bag and drew out her shiny shoes with their delicate diamanté buckles, changing into them.

  ‘Look at those legs,’ said a young man in a naval uniform, nudging his army friend. ‘Coming dancing with me, are yer?’

  Peggy could tell there was no menace behind the comment, just a sailor trying his luck.

  ‘Fat chance,’ she said cheerfully, fastening her bag again. She wondered whether to add a pointed barb about him being barely old enough to shave, then decided against it. He was probably off risking his life for his country most of the time, and this was his one chance to have a bit of relaxation and fun.

  She threaded her way between her fellow revellers until she was approaching Leicester Square tube station. She had been relieved that James had suggested meeting there, as she wasn’t sure she would like to meet the other GIs at the dormitory. That would make her feel as if she was part of a couple and she didn’t know if that was what she wanted. She scarcely knew him. He came from a foreign country. He was hardly ever in London and when he was away would be facing who-knew-what dangers. The list of why she should not take any of this seriously went on and on.

  Then she caught sight of him and all her misgivings fell away.

  His eyes lit up at the sight of her and Peggy found herself almost running the last few steps, only to come to a halt just in front of him, unsure about whether to shake his hand, give him a peck on the cheek, or what. She didn’t know what he would expect. What did people do in America?

  ‘You came,’ he said, and reached out to hug her. She fell into his warmth, not giving a fig what anyone around them thought. His uniform jacket was scratchy but she didn’t care. For a moment she felt safer than she could remember, as if she had come home. Then he released her and held her off at arm’s length, drinking her in.

  ‘Of course I did,’ she said, slightly breathless. ‘Couldn’t pass up the chance of a dance, now could I?’

  ‘Even with an old crock of a Yank?’ he said, raising one eyebrow, but laughing as he did so.

  ‘Not so old, I think.’ She fell into step with him, tucking her arm through his. The breeze was colder now, a sure sign summer was ending and autumn on its way. She stopped herself thinking about time passing by and tried to concentrate on every precious minute.

  ‘So, where are you taking me?’ he asked. ‘My friends are all jealous that I’ve got me a local guide.’

  Peggy smiled. ‘The ballroom near here. They’ll have a dance band – they’re very good. You won’t be disappointed.’

  ‘No,’ he said, turning to face her and melting her heart with his warm gaze. ‘No, I dare say I won’t.’

  For a second it was as if they were the only people on the street. Time stood still. Then the hubbub returned and they had to move along or get swept away with the momentum of the crowds; all the hundreds of people determined to defy the war and celebrate the weekend as best they could.

  ‘Come on then. It’s this way.’ Peggy ushered him around the corner, glad of his arm to lean on as groups coming the other way pushed against her, threatening to topple her from her high heels. There was a queue forming but not so long that they wouldn’t get in. They took their place among young people in every sort of uniform, and many in civvies too, all animated at the prospect of dancin
g the night away.

  James looked up at the impressive building with its tall columns and grand air. ‘What is this place?’ he wondered.

  Peggy giggled. ‘Believe it or not, it used to be the opera house. They stopped all that when the war began and now it’s a ballroom. You can go dancing every day of the week, if you’ve got the stamina.’ She looked up at him with a cheeky grin. ‘We used to go to the Café de Paris but that got bombed. So now this is the place to see the latest dance steps.’

  They moved forward, nearing the front of the queue. ‘Can you jitterbug?’ he asked, reaching for his wallet.

  Peggy hesitated. ‘Well, no.’ She unhooked her scarf from around her neck, expertly rolled it up and stuffed it in her coat pocket.

  He smiled down at her. ‘You mean, “not yet”.’

  Two hours later, and Peggy could honestly say that she could now do the jitterbug. Her leg muscles ached and her hair had come loose from its slides, but without a shadow of a doubt she knew the steps and could keep up with the best of them.

  ‘You look as if you could do with a drink,’ James commented, giving her his arm again and leading her up to the balcony where the refreshments were being served. ‘You seriously didn’t know that dance before? I wouldn’t have guessed. You sure picked it up quick.’

  Peggy sank onto a chair with a padded velvet seat and rested her tired feet on a railing. ‘Oh boy. I’ve never known anything like it.’ She closed her eyes for a second. ‘Helps to have a good teacher of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ His eyes danced with merriment. ‘What can I get you – a shandy?’

  Peggy shook her head and her hair swung away from her face. ‘No, just a lemonade. I’m so thirsty.’

  He ducked into the crowd clamouring for drinks and she leant back in the chair, exhausted but happier than she could remember. Was it wrong to feel like this, with Pete only eighteen months dead? But she couldn’t waste her life. She didn’t know when moments like these would come again. She smoothed her skirt, in a silky eau-de-nil fabric, which she hadn’t worn since … she gave a little start as she realised it would have been when Pete had been home on what turned out to be his final leave and they had gone to a party with some of his friends. She wouldn’t feel guilty. Those had been happy days, and maybe her luck was now finally on the turn.

  Here came James balancing two glasses of lemonade, his face open and smiling. She felt a small somersault in her stomach.

  ‘Here, let me help you with your coat.’ It was late and the ballroom was emptying after the final dance of the evening. Peggy had danced every one with James, apart from those when she’d had to insist on sitting it out to catch her breath. She was too hot to want her coat, but knew it would be chilly once they left the building. She appreciated his gentlemanly gesture as he held it for her, its shiny lining catching the lights as he swung it around her shoulders. She fished out her scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

  ‘Let me.’ He took it and carefully tied it around her neck, his fingers brushing against her throat. She shivered at the touch.

  ‘Too cold?’ he asked, with concern but also with humour.

  ‘Not at all.’ He knew exactly what he was doing, Peggy thought. She wasn’t going to stop him.

  The streets around Covent Garden were still busy, with those who had stayed until the bitter end of the dance and others who were simply wandering. The crowds were relishing an evening out with no sirens warning of incoming planes, while as ever the anti-aircraft beams lit the sky above the city.

  Peggy hugged James’s arm as they strolled along, putting off the moment when she would have to find her way home. She pointed out the landmarks, the market, the actors’ church, the old pubs. He took it all in, laughing, saying he’d heard about some of the places but had never imagined when he was growing up that one day he would be walking those very streets.

  ‘With my own special guide,’ he added, squeezing her hand. She took her other hand from her pocket and squeezed his back, confident now with him from their night of dancing, holding each other close, marvelling at how well they fitted together.

  ‘It’s only fair,’ she said lightly. ‘You teach me to jitterbug, I show you the sights. There, that’s the Lamb and Flag – it’s been there for ever. We could go there when you next have leave, if you like.’ She knew that some would have told her she was being forward with a remark like that, but she found she didn’t care.

  ‘Yes, I’d like that,’ he grinned. ‘It will be good for my education. A history lesson, you could say. Where I’m from, we don’t have much real old stuff like this.’

  ‘Where is that, then? I thought you came from New York. You sound like they do in the films.’

  ‘You’re close,’ he said. ‘We ain’t so far from there. You could live in our little town and go to work in the city if you’ve a mind to. Some folks do. My pop tried it but he said he couldn’t keep an eye on us kids all the time – that’s me, my brother that I told you about, and our little sister. So he got a job in a garage closer to home. Mom prefers it that way too. We ain’t got anything historic there though. So I’d be mighty grateful if you showed me what you got here.’

  She laughed, enjoying his rich voice with its intriguing accent. ‘It’s a deal, then.’

  They heard a sudden scuffling noise and the shadowy narrow alley behind the pub disgorged a couple, both obviously the worse for drink, the woman hastily rearranging her skirt and tugging her coat into place, the man finishing buttoning his trousers, both with hair awry, giggling and staggering as they came out onto the broader pavement. There was little doubt about what they had been doing.

  Peggy looked askance at James. She wasn’t one to judge, especially given some of the scrapes she had got into since Pete had died, with drink being to blame for the worst of them. She didn’t know how her new friend would react, though. Some people said GIs had loose morals and would try to get away with anything; others claimed the Americans were very strict and looked down on British women who were free with their favours. She hadn’t seen a trace of either extreme in James, but you never knew.

  He slowed down, putting pressure on her arm so that she came to a halt, allowing the couple to stagger along and out of sight. He sighed. ‘I would never do that to you, Peggy. I hope you know that.’

  She turned towards him and he put his arms around her, but looked her steadily in the eye. She could just make out his intense expression in the silver light.

  ‘I know we haven’t had a chance to spend much time together,’ he went on, ‘but I got to tell you, this isn’t just a bit of fun. Well, not for me anyway.’ He paused to take a breath. ‘Sure, we have fun, and I love that. But … I respect you, Peggy. That’s important to me. I wouldn’t take advantage, just so that you know.’

  Peggy gulped. This was suddenly turning serious, catching her unawares. But she couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spoken. ‘No … I didn’t think you would. I … I trust you, James.’ She realised this was true as she said it and what a big thing it was to admit. Many men had indeed taken advantage of her, knowing she was vulnerable, or simply not caring. She understood deep down that this one was different.

  ‘Good.’ He bent down and tipped her chin up a little with his warm finger. Then he brought his lips to hers and kissed her, gently, then with more insistence.

  Peggy felt her knees begin to melt. This was no drunken smooching after a dance or fumble after closing time at the pub. This meant something. She wasn’t entirely sure what. She kissed him back.

  She had no idea how long had passed before they stopped.

  He pulled her head onto his shoulder and hugged her close, and even if the jacket was still scratchy, she didn’t mind in the slightest. She held him tight, tighter than when they had been dancing, for the full wonder of being close to him, to feel his heart beating through his staid uniform.

  ‘Some of my comrades have been sneaking girls in after dark, but I ain’t going to do that, Peggy,’ he said. ‘We ain’t got
much time together, but I wouldn’t ask that of you.’

  ‘Then we’ll just do this.’ Peggy sighed into the stiff wool. She didn’t fancy sneaking into a dormitory, no matter how well she fitted into his arms.

  ‘We’ve got all the time in the world, I just know it,’ he said confidently.

  Peggy said nothing, hugging him even tighter, hoping against hope that it was true.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Autumn 1942

  Edith waited until the biggest table in the dining area was free and then commandeered it, spreading out her papers. There was a big map of the south of England, a more detailed map of south London showing railway and tram stops, a set of various timetables and a notebook. Finally she took out a pencil from her cardigan pocket and set to work.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Belinda came across from the service area to see, pushing back the sleeves on her red and white gingham shirt.

  Edith looked up. ‘Oooh, is that new?’

  Belinda laughed and gave a shrug. ‘Sort of. It’s made from a tablecloth. Miriam, you know, Gwen’s friend, was having a clear-out and I thought I could make something of this.’

  Edith nodded, impressed. ‘I didn’t know you were so handy with a needle and thread.’

  Belinda frowned. ‘I wasn’t really. It’s important to try, though, isn’t it? I’ve been having a few lessons from Miriam, as she knows what she’s on about.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you knew her so well.’ Edith put her pencil down.

  ‘She sort of knows my parents from ages ago. We got talking one time when she came round to see Gwen and she asked if I was their daughter – one of those coincidences. Anyway, they’d just started putting up those “Mrs Sew-and-Sew” posters to encourage us to make do and mend, and she offered to teach me, so I said yes. And here’s the result!’ She spread her arms out and performed a twirl. Edith dutifully clapped. ‘I took the buttons from an old summer frock that was falling apart, it had been washed so often.’ The little mother-of-pearl buttons twinkled softly in the remains of the autumn sunlight. ‘I suppose I could have saved my coupons for one of those new Utility blouses but they’re still so expensive. I just fancied something that at least looked new, to cheer myself up. To think you can’t even buy a bar of soap on impulse now that it’s rationed – I always loved to do that, but it will have to wait. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.’ She stood over Edith, her hands on her hips, clearly not moving until she had an answer.