Christmas for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

  Her best bet was to get home as quickly as possible and then clean herself up before Mrs Cannon saw anything. She would simply say she’d fallen, tripped on something in the blackout. It happened often enough and had some truth to it. She didn’t want to frighten the older woman.

  Wincing, she cautiously headed for the safety of their little terraced house with its immaculate brasswork, polished regularly every week, on the front door. The letterbox glinted slightly in the minimal light as she shakily put her key in the lock. The house felt empty; Mrs Cannon had not yet returned. Good.

  Peggy hurried to the back kitchen and lit the gas lamp. The tarnished mirror beside the back door revealed a large cut to her temple and a scratched cheek, grit sticking to the drying blood. Hastily she wetted her handkerchief under the cold tap and dabbed away the worst of it. Then she fished around under the sink for an old tea towel, which would at least be clean, wetted that and then took it upstairs to her bedroom to clean up the rest of the damage as best she could.

  Only when she had done that and sunk onto the creaky bed, which she and Pete had shared with much laughter and attempts to silence the springs, did she think about the foul warning.

  So some random stranger had decided she shouldn’t see James again. Peggy gave herself a resolute shake. Well, if they imagined their cowardly attack would stop her, they had another think coming. James was a better man by far than whoever had done this. If anything it had made her even more determined. They’d picked on the wrong woman to try to scare with their underhand tactics. There was no way on this earth that such a thing would prevent her from seeing James again.

  Flo busied herself making a big pot of tea, delighted to have her large, homely kitchen full of excited young women. There was little she liked more than planning a big occasion, and occasions didn’t come much bigger than this. To add to the challenge, it would happen just before Christmas, so there would be food to find and decorations to put up. Lists would have to be made. She had brought out a big box of pencils, usually kept for Gillian’s colouring, and found the end of a roll of wallpaper, so they could write on the back of that.

  ‘Now don’t let me hear you say you don’t want any fuss,’ scolded Mattie, picking up a pencil and twirling it between her fingers. ‘We want to make a fuss of you, all right? It’s your special day but it’s a special day for all of us. So don’t try to get out of it.’

  Edith shrugged and then gave in and laughed. ‘You win, Mattie. Go on, make a fuss of me.’

  ‘Right.’ Mattie drew a line on the back of the wallpaper. ‘The wedding itself. Even if it’s not in church, it has to be special.’

  ‘I’ve already booked the register office,’ Edith said. ‘We reckoned lots of people in the services would apply for leave over Christmas and so it would be the most popular time. We made sure to get in there first. So it’ll be at eleven thirty, on the twenty-third of December. That’s a Wednesday.’

  Flo put the teapot down in the centre of the big table, alongside the row of cups ready and waiting. ‘Which means we’ll have a bit of time to recover before celebrating Christmas itself,’ she said happily. ‘There you are, help yourselves. Here’s the milk.’ She reached for an earthenware jug and set it down.

  Alice poured a cup for Edith, one for herself and then one for Flo. She knew how hard the older woman had worked already to make the forthcoming day a success, saving food coupons from the minute she’d been told, making two fruit cakes, one for Christmas and one for the wedding. Her own mother had sent a recipe for fake marzipan, using semolina and almond essence, and they just needed to find rice paper to use instead of icing.

  ‘What are you going to wear, Edith?’ asked Kathleen, casting an anxious glance towards the fire, beside which stood the big cot with Barbara safely asleep in it. The child had developed the ability to nod off regardless of how much noise was going on, which was a great relief to her parents.

  ‘I can’t decide,’ Edith said. ‘I know it should be something useful that I can wear again, but part of me wants something just for the day – I spend all my time in my sensible nurse’s uniform or old clothes. Although I know I’m being silly.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Flo understood the younger woman’s dilemma only too well. ‘You want to look your best for Harry but you don’t want to waste coupons or material. Let’s have a think.’

  Edith frowned. ‘It’s bound to be cold, for one thing. That rules out a lacy dress for starters.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Kathleen. ‘You’d look good in one, with your dark hair.’

  ‘What did you wear, Mattie?’ Alice tried to remember if she had seen a photograph.

  Mattie put down her pencil. ‘It was different then – it was before the war. I had Ma’s dress and veil, but the bridesmaids had new frocks. We didn’t have to worry as much. Lennie had already joined the army and he was in his uniform. It was in springtime and so I didn’t need a coat.’ Her expression grew nostalgic and for a moment Alice felt bad for reminding her that Lennie would not be at her brother’s ceremony, trapped as he was in his prisoner-of-war camp.

  ‘You looked beautiful,’ Flo said proudly. ‘I was so pleased you could wear my dress. Maybe one day Gillian will wear it too.’ She tilted her head to one side, regarding Edith thoughtfully. ‘I’d love to offer it to you, Edie, but I don’t think it will fit, if I’m honest. Even if we took it up and took it in …’

  ‘No, no, don’t even think about it,’ Edith said hurriedly. ‘I’m so much shorter than either of you, and we were only saying recently how much weight we’ve all lost.’

  ‘Not that you had any to lose to begin with,’ Mattie chipped in. ‘Lose any more and you’ll get blown away in the next high wind.’

  Flo was still thinking hard. ‘But the veil, now, that’s another story. That fits onto a hairband and could be adapted for anybody. Will you want to wear a veil, do you think?’

  Edith drummed her fingers against the well-scrubbed wood of the old table. ‘I hadn’t thought to, no, because I really assumed I’d wear something practical like a two-piece suit and then it wouldn’t go.’

  Flo set down her cup. ‘Practical be damned. If you want to wear a veil, then so you shall. Let me get it down from the attic.’

  Mattie leapt to her feet at once. ‘Ma, you’re not to. You were only saying yesterday how much your hands ached. Don’t you go messing about with that heavy ladder. I’ll do it.’ She hurried from the room before her mother could object. Flo looked as if she was about to complain and then nodded in resignation. Perhaps her days of racing up ladders really were coming to an end.

  ‘Let’s say you did like the veil,’ Kathleen said slowly. ‘If you had a pale dress of some kind – it needn’t be white, but cream, or light grey, or powder blue – maybe it would go. It wouldn’t look heavy or strange. How about that?’

  Edith’s face brightened. ‘That’s clever, Kath. I like powder blue. I don’t have much in that colour but it suits me, if I say so myself.’

  Kathleen beamed at the praise. ‘We could go down the market, see if they’ve got some nice material in that colour.’

  Alice privately wondered if they might take advantage of Charles’s connections to track down the right fabric, as he apparently found it so easy to treat Mary to new frocks, but she knew that Kathleen would love to take Edith shopping. It would be another way of paying back all the favours Edith had done for her, now she was finally in a position to do so.

  ‘We could. I’d love that,’ said Edith, and Alice was glad she’d kept her mouth shut.

  Flo bustled over to the oven, checking her watch. ‘If I’m right, these should be just about ready.’ She opened the heavy door, and a delicious spicy aroma emerged. It had traces of sweetness and richness, adding to the air of festivity.

  ‘Oooh, what are they?’ Edith asked as Flo carefully lifted her old metal tin out and placed it on the iron trivet.

  ‘Cinnamon buns,’ said Flo proudly. ‘I’m adjusting the recipe now there’s hardly any
sugar to be had. You can use parsnips instead. I know it’s a bit early to dig them up but I wanted to try, so we can have them just right for Christmas. Anybody want to taste?’

  Nobody needed to be asked twice, and by the time Mattie returned from the attic, with a large ivory-coloured box in her hands and strands of cobwebs in her hair, Flo had brought out a pile of side plates and was gently easing the buns from the tin.

  ‘Don’t get crumbs or grease on the material,’ she warned. ‘Come and have one of these first and then we’ll try the veil on Edith. I hope the moths haven’t got it. I did pack it properly with lavender, but you never know.’

  Edith was torn between wanting to try on the veil at once and savouring every mouthful of the little bun, moist and golden and round. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve tasted for ages,’ she said honestly, licking her fingers after she had demolished the last bit. ‘I’ll wash my hands in the back kitchen and then let’s see how it looks.’ She ran the water from the tap, trying not to get her hopes up. This was such an unexpected offer. For one moment she thought she might cry at simply having the chance to try on the veil; her own mother had never hinted that her daughters could wear anything from her own wedding day. Come to think of it, Edith couldn’t remember what her mother had worn. She couldn’t recall ever having seen a picture; perhaps they hadn’t been able to afford a photographer.

  Mattie wiped her own hands carefully and then tackled the ivory box, which had been tied with a cream ribbon. With great concentration she lifted out the fine netting, looping it on one arm until she reached the headband, which sparkled with tiny seed pearls. ‘Oh, it brings it back like it was yesterday,’ she said, failing to disguise the wobble in her voice. Then she rallied. ‘Right, you sit down on this wooden chair, Edie, and then I can stand behind you and fix this on. That’s it. Now don’t fidget. Keep very still while I let the material fall. No, a bit further forward … don’t hunch your shoulders, I can’t see if it’s straight … back a bit … all right. That’s it. Now stand and come to the mirror over the fireplace.’

  Alice stood and moved out of the way, smiling as she did so, not only at the sight of Edie – transformed from the usual restless bundle of energy to a stunning bride – but at the fact that Mattie was beginning to sound more and more like her mother Flo.

  Edith approached the mirror with trepidation, almost as if she was afraid of what she might see. She kept her eyes downwards until the last moment, and then raised her gaze. What she saw caught her breath. She nearly did not recognise herself. Instead of the regulation nurse’s cap, her dark curls were now topped by beautiful foamy lace, which set off her dark eyes and pale skin; it looked gorgeously feminine and very definitely not in the least bit practical. ‘I … I don’t know what to say.’ She stood stock still, unable to look away. ‘It’s … I’m …’

  ‘You look beautiful,’ said Flo with certainty. ‘It could have been made for you. Do you like it?’

  Mutely Edith nodded, too overcome to say more.

  ‘That Harry’s a very lucky boy,’ said his mother. ‘Of course we knew that the first time he came home and spoke about you. But to see you like this, Edie, I tell you straight, it makes me proud to have you as a daughter-in-law. That veil looks absolutely right on you.’

  Mattie stood to one side and checked it again. ‘It’s not even too long. Good job you didn’t have a full-length one, Ma. Do you know if you’ll be wearing high heels, Edie?’

  That brought her out of her trance. ‘Heels? I don’t expect so. I spend so long in my work shoes that I’ve forgotten how to balance in them. Anyway, now they’ve restricted crepe heels to two inches, there’s not much point, even if I do manage to buy a new pair.’

  Mattie giggled. ‘What about wooden clogs? They’re all the rage now.’

  Flo protested at once. ‘Wash your mouth out, young lady. I won’t even hear of such a thing.’

  Edith looked at the women gathered around her, all keen for her to look her best and to help out in any way they could, and knew that she was lucky – beyond lucky, indeed. Harry had come back from the dead. He loved her and she loved him to distraction. Soon she would marry him and then she would be a proper member of his wonderful family. She had the most enviable group of friends on top of that.

  ‘I don’t mind what shoes I wear,’ she admitted. ‘As long as you’re all there with me on the day, that’s what really matters.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  December 1942

  Billy was so tired he could barely put one foot in front of the other. It was the end of a demanding day at the docks, as they were several men short. A couple had gone down with flu, another had joined the army. That had left Billy, Ronald and Kenny with the brunt of the work.

  It wouldn’t have been as bad if he’d had a proper night’s sleep, but Barbara had been keeping them awake for most of the week. That was on top of his ARP rounds for a large part of the evening. At least he had tonight off.

  Kenny pulled on his battered cap and rubbed his hands. ‘You’re off tonight, aren’t yer, Bill? Fancy coming down the Boatman’s with me and Ron?’

  Billy laughed ruefully. ‘You got to be kidding. I can hardly stand up straight, I’m so knackered, and that’s a fact. The pub’s for you young, free and single types. I just want to get home to me bed.’

  ‘At least you got a lovely warm welcome waiting for you,’ said Kenny dolefully.

  Ron pulled a face. ‘Well, you ain’t going to get anything like that down the Boatman’s, Ken. I hope you ain’t going there with that in mind. You want to stay away from any female company on offer down there, if you got any sense. Which you ain’t.’

  Kenny punched his arm in mock-protest.

  Ron’s mind went back to the conversation in the nurses’ victory garden. Mary’s friend had obviously been worried about her sister, and Ron couldn’t blame her. If he’d had a sister who was a regular down the Boatman’s, he’d have been worried too. He wondered which one she was. There were two singers there: a woman in her late twenties with long sandy hair and a knowing eye for all the men in the crowd, and a much younger woman with bottle-blonde hair. He’d put good money on the blonde being the sister. The other one looked well capable of looking after herself.

  He’d seen the young woman hanging around with the landlord’s brother, a nasty piece of work if ever there was one. She’d looked besotted. More fool her. Anyone could see he was out for one thing only, and Ron had a nasty feeling he was having his way without having to try very hard. Should he warn the nurse? He had only met her the once. He could get in touch with Mary—

  ‘Ron, you coming or what?’

  Ron snapped out of his train of thought and shoved his hands in his pockets, following the other two down to the bus stop near the big junction at Limehouse. Perhaps the big sister knew about what went on. He wasn’t exactly in a position to stop it. Yet he felt for her, remembering how protective he’d been when his only brother had been shot down in the Battle of Britain. Alfie had survived but it had been touch and go for a while. He’d never be the same, having suffered terrible injuries, leaving him with poor eyesight – and you needed 20/20 vision to be a pilot. He was grounded for the duration of the war.

  ‘Got plans for the weekend, Billy?’ he asked now.

  ‘Going to be baby-sitting,’ Billy said, his delight clear from his expression. ‘Kath’s taking Edie out shopping for her wedding things. I don’t want to get involved in all that. I’m better off leaving it up to them.’

  ‘You’re right there,’ said Kenny. ‘You upset not to be best man, then?’

  Billy came to a halt at the end of the bus queue. A row of people were in front of them, all stamping their feet and huddling to keep warm in the early winter cold.

  ‘No, it’s only fair,’ he said after a moment. ‘Joe should have been Alan’s godfather but they knew he couldn’t get home. Now there’s a chance he can manage some Christmas leave. If he doesn’t make it back then I’ll step in. Between us we’ll
get Harry to the altar in one piece.’

  ‘Won’t exactly need dragging, will he,’ said Kenny.

  ‘Ken, I do believe you’re jealous. We got to find you a woman, and not one from the Boatman’s,’ Billy declared as the bus pulled up. They crowded on, although there were no seats. He didn’t mind. He could doze off standing up, given the chance.

  ‘All right, let’s find someone for Kenny,’ said Ron, joining in the joke, but suddenly wondering if he really wanted to spend his hard-earned cash at the Boatman’s. The expression worn by the landlord’s brother as he sweet-talked the young singer would not leave his mind. Despite himself, and the steamy warmth of the over-full bus, he shivered.

  Kathleen was a past master at manoeuvring a pram around the bustling stalls of Ridley Road market. Barbara slept on oblivious as her mother turned on a sixpence, while Brian pulled on his knitted reins. He’d seen the big pile of glistening tangerines on Brendan’s stall, and knew he usually got treats from the kindly tradesman. Kathleen noticed what he was looking at and halted in her tracks. ‘Edie, stop! Look what Brendan’s selling! However did you come by those?’ she asked, knowing how scarce such fruit was these days.

  Brendan tapped the side of his nose. ‘Don’t ask,’ he said cheerily. ‘It’s all legit, Kath, don’t you worry. Someone owed me a very big favour and this is what I got as a result. Like a miracle, eh? You’ll want some for Christmas, I dare say?’

  ‘Oh, yes please.’ Kathleen could not believe her luck. ‘Are they very dear? I’ll take a handful anyway.’ Time was that Brendan had had to help her out with an extra scoop of bare essentials, in the days when she hadn’t had two pennies to rub together. Now things were better but she was hardly flush.

  Brendan’s eyes fixed on her companion. ‘And you’re the happy bride-to-be, aren’t you? Please accept a small gift for your big day, then.’ He indicated to Edith that she should open her shopping bag, and he poured in a generous amount of fruit. ‘You’re going to be Stan Banham’s daughter-in-law, aren’t you? Can’t have you going hungry.’