Christmas for the District Nurses

by Annie Groves

  Edith’s eyes were out on stalks. ‘That’s very kind,’ she stammered. ‘You shouldn’t have.’ Yet she knew how much these tangerines would be appreciated. There was enough to put out a bowl in the canteen, where their festive fragrance would fill the room, and still keep some for the wedding feast at Flo’s. Their bright orange skins and shiny deep green leaves were reason to celebrate in themselves.

  Brian watched in disbelief as the fruit disappeared into the bag and turned to Brendan, imploringly holding out his hand. ‘Please,’ he said in his politest voice.

  ‘Brian!’ Kathleen exclaimed. ‘You can’t just ask like that.’

  Brendan leaned forwards and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Just this once, as it’s coming up to Christmas,’ he said, and picked one more tangerine off the pile and gave it to him.

  Edith laughed as they pulled away from the stall, back to their original route towards the ones that sold fabrics and sewing materials. ‘He’s got the knack already,’ she teased. ‘He’ll go far, that one.’ Her expression grew more serious as she broached the question that had been worrying her. ‘Kath, you aren’t upset that I didn’t ask you to be a matron of honour, are you? If things had been different, I’d have loved to have you, and Mattie too, but it just all felt, well, a bit much.’ It had been on her mind ever since she’d made the decision to have only one attendant: Alice.

  Kathleen vehemently shook her head. ‘Don’t be daft, Edie. Of course I’m not offended. Neither is Mattie. What would I do if Joe couldn’t get back and Billy ended up being best man? I’d have to manage these two on my own most of the day. I couldn’t do that and be matron of honour. Flo would end up with them as well as Gillian and Alan – no, you’re much better off with Alice on her own.’

  Edith sighed in relief. ‘Really? I felt awful, but it’s so tricky. I mean, I could have asked Mary too, but then Belinda might get upset – once you start, there’s no end to it. Besides, we don’t know how many nurses can get time off on the same day. Some of my closest friends might not manage even to get over to Jeeves Street for a quick bite to eat. We’ll have to see how busy the rounds are that day.’

  Kathleen nodded. ‘You’re bound to be snowed under, what with Christmas being two days after. Still, it means you only need to think about one bridesmaid’s dress.’

  They reached the stalls and their faces fell. ‘Maybe that’s just as well,’ said Edith, surveying the slim pickings. ‘It doesn’t look as if we’re going to be spoilt for choice, does it.’

  Kathleen glanced sharply at her friend, catching her disappointed tone. ‘Maybe not here, but we’ll find something, Edie. These aren’t the only stalls selling fabric.’ She ran her gaze along what was on offer, dull and sensible patterns in hard-wearing cotton and wool, just the sort of thing they had determined Edith should avoid.

  Further back into the market, away from the main road, was another row of stalls that used to supply everything a dressmaker might need. Today they had a fraction of their former treasures on display, and again the choice of colour was very restricted – nothing that would suggest a blushing bride. Edith frowned. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn’t have a pretty dress after all. Look at that grey check – I could have a neat skirt and jacket and then it would do for all winter long.’

  ‘No.’ Kathleen didn’t even need to think about it. ‘You shall have your special dress, come hell or high water.’ Swiftly she tried to work out where they might go – somewhere she could reasonably take Brian and Barbara in her pram. She hadn’t packed a change of nappies or any spare clothes in case of accidents. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

  All the same, she was determined to make something of this day for Edith. The nurse had been so good to her when she was down on her luck; she wanted to show how much she appreciated her friendship over the past few years. Friendships like this were what got you through the bad times.

  She had never paid much attention to a stall on the corner to their left, as it had always stocked men’s work boots and suchlike. Maybe she’d stopped there once or twice when Billy had needed kitting out. When the stallholder called over, it took her by surprise.

  ‘Hello, ladies! What can I do for such lovely customers?’ The man was older than Stan Banham but had a twinkle in his eye all the same. ‘I know you, you’re the wife of that young man what got Brendan to join the ARP.’

  Kathleen looked a little abashed, not sure if this was a compliment or not. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, somewhat distracted as Barbara had started to grizzle. Brian began to pull on his reins again, obviously bored now there were no more treats to be had. Kathleen wasn’t inclined to stop and chat.

  ‘I bet I’ve got something you’d like to see,’ the man went on, oblivious to Kathleen’s doubting expression. ‘I’ve been expanding my range – not easy to do in these hard times, but sometimes you got to take a risk in this game.’

  Seeing that her friend had other immediate concerns, Edith stepped in. ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ the stallholder said, smiling to reveal he lacked two teeth down one side of his mouth. ‘Shoes for the ladies. Not your second-hand ones neither. Proper new shoes, leather uppers an’ all. Bet you wasn’t expecting that.’

  Edith glanced quickly at Kathleen, but she was bent over the pram, checking on her daughter. ‘No, can’t say we were,’ she replied, playing along.

  ‘Let me show you.’ The man bustled to one side of his stall, briskly flicking some imagined dust from his brown overall, and fished out a set of boxes. ‘Here we are. Red patent sandals for the summer …’

  ‘Ah, I’m not sure that’s what we’re after,’ said Edith tactfully, eyeing the sandals with horror. They were far too high for her, and rather spindly.

  ‘… and elegant beige court shoes for that big occasion …’

  They looked like something Kathleen’s old neighbour and babysitter might have worn in her heyday, and Edith would not be seen dead in them. ‘Nor those,’ she said.

  ‘… and we got these, very special …’ He took off the cardboard lid and revealed a small pair of pumps with a little heel, in a combination of cobalt blue and ivory. They had small bows in ivory cord at the toe and ivory piping around the sides and were possibly the loveliest shoes Edith had ever seen.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped.

  Kathleen looked up at the change in her friend’s voice. ‘What is it?’

  Edith looked longingly at the blue shoes. ‘These aren’t bad, Kath. What do you reckon?’

  Kathleen handed Edith the woollen reins and took a close look at them, picking them up and examining them. ‘What size are they?’ she demanded.

  The man counted on his fingers. ‘We got the larger sizes for the taller ladies, six and a half or seven. Then we got the more petite ones, a three and a three and a half. I regret to say we do not have the middle of the range.’

  Edith turned away from a disgruntled Brian and met Kathleen’s gaze. ‘I take a three,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know, Kath. New shoes – it’s a bit of a waste, isn’t it? I could find some old ones and polish them up, and nobody would know.’

  ‘But you would be hard pressed to borrow any if you wanted something different. None of us would have the right size.’ Kathleen couldn’t think of anyone else who wore a three.

  The man could tell how interested she was and moved in for the kill. ‘Perhaps you’d like to try them on?’ He took both shoes from their box, and with his handkerchief he swiped the dust from a stack of crates. ‘You sit down here nice and comfy and see how well they look on you.’

  Edith was in an agony of indecision. If she spent clothing coupons on shoes she would have fewer for the dress, whenever they found something suitable. But if, just if, they did discover her dream in powder blue, these would be perfect. She had to make up her mind. Brian and Barbara were obviously ready to go home and she could sense that Kathleen was growing anxious about them.

  Just then Brendan came over, waving a pound note. ‘Norman, you got
any change? Oh, Kath, you’re still here. Now what have you got there?’

  Edith had taken off her old black winter shoes and had put on the blue ones. Slowly she stood and flexed her feet in them. ‘They fit,’ she said. She dared not say more, in case her longing for them outweighed her common sense. She took a couple of paces forward and then back. They might have been made for her.

  Brendan meanwhile picked up the box and looked at the price. He whistled. ‘Norm, you got to be joking.’

  Norman shook his head. ‘I tell you, straight up, that’s a good price. I’m almost ruining myself as it is.’

  Brendan scoffed. ‘Norman, you told me yesterday you got the lot for next to nothing because the warehouse was about to collapse from bomb damage. You’re turning a pretty profit there. Don’t tell me you’ve been giving these two your old soft soap. You know who they are, don’t you? Billy’s wife and this other one will soon be Stan Banham’s daughter-in-law? You got to treat them right.’

  Norman protested. ‘Brendan, you’ll bleed me dry.’

  Edith cleared her throat. ‘It’s all right. I can pay. I don’t want to be some kind of charity case.’ She hoped that she wouldn’t regret such rashness.

  ‘Charity be damned, if you want them you should pay a fair price,’ said Brendan, all businesslike now. ‘Norman, how about you take that number and divide it by three. Then you’ll still have a 50 per cent margin of profit.’

  Norman’s eyes bulged.

  ‘See, you should never have told me how much you paid to begin with,’ Brendan went on seamlessly. ‘If you want to go around taking advantage of gullible customers, be my guest, but not with these two you won’t. And you better decide quickly or young Brian here will be running off home and you won’t have the chance to finish your deal.’ He folded his arms, his piece said.

  Kathleen could barely disguise her delight. It might not be what they’d set out to buy but she could see those shoes were the best thing in the entire market. If she hadn’t been here, Brendan would not have intervened, and so Edith probably wouldn’t have been able to afford them. Now there she was, settling up with a rather deflated Norman, and still with some cash in her pocket for dress material. They’d decide what to do about that later. For now she needed to get the children back home. But the look of stunned delight on Edith’s face was a sight to treasure.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Harry shook his head, still finding it hard to take in the changes to Jeeves Street and the surrounding neighbourhood. He’d been back so rarely since Dunkirk, and even then he had travelled in the back of an ambulance. He’d barely been in a state to take in what the area was like. Although he hadn’t said anything to his family or Edith, he had been on such strong pain medication that he wouldn’t have noticed if there had been an elephant tied up to the nearest lamppost.

  Now he had been given a generous chunk of leave, prior to his wedding and Christmas, and for the first time he had made his own way home to his parents’ house. Even in the blackout he could just about see the destruction: houses missing roof tiles or windows, or simply missing altogether. The pavements and roads were pitted and cracked. He shuddered. Dunkirk had been hell on earth, of course, and his recollection of what followed was hazy. Yet he had been safe in his hospitals ever since. Here, they’d all been on the front line. He could not imagine what it had been like, night after night of taking refuge in the shelters, wondering if your house would still be there the next morning.

  Now he was on his way to Billy and Kathleen’s house for the first time, having enjoyed one of his mother’s stews to fortify him for the evening. For once Billy had agreed to go to the pub, in honour of Harry being home. Harry had said he’d drop round to pick him up. It wasn’t far.

  He was relieved to be walking the short distance under cover of darkness. This afternoon had unsettled him. In hospital, his changed appearance caused no reaction. Some of the pilots were virtually having their faces rebuilt. His own scarring and skin grafts were minor in comparison. He’d grown his hair a little longer to compensate and had almost got used to what he saw when he looked in the mirror.

  On the train to London he had been one of many servicemen and most didn’t bat an eyelid at his injuries. They would all have known somebody who had something similar, if not worse. He’d had to be careful not to knock his bad arm, but having bagged a corner seat he had felt safe enough.

  No, it had been on the final leg of the journey that the problems had started. He had got off the bus, slinging his pack over his good shoulder, and walked slowly along the main road through Dalston, recognising the shops, noticing how bare their windows were. A few of the shopkeepers had waved and one or two had called out in welcome. Yes, he was back on his home patch. He had sighed in contentment.

  But then a group of schoolchildren had come towards him and he’d felt their stares as he passed them. They hadn’t said anything, but he could tell they were looking at him strangely. It wasn’t aggressive exactly but it definitely wasn’t friendly. He was sure that if he turned around they would be nudging each other and pointing.

  Then a couple of older lads, just too young to have their call-up papers, had come around the corner. He vaguely recognised one of them – a younger brother of someone he used to box against. They had openly stared, and the brother had laughed. ‘Oy, Banham,’ he’d called. ‘Bet you wouldn’t beat our Reggie now, would yer?’

  They had sauntered past, eyeing him curiously as they did so. ‘Scar face,’ the other one had said when he was just within hearing.

  Harry had not broken his step, even though he was tempted to give them a piece of his mind. Didn’t they realise why he was like this? It had taken a few minutes for it to sink in. Vaguely he recalled a doctor warning him that he should expect such reactions, but he had never encountered them until now and so he had not bothered to listen.

  Harry had grown up taking admiration as his due. He was tall, handsome, sporty and popular. Not for him the anxieties of adolescence. Women had thrown themselves at him; he’d trained hard for boxing success but sure enough it had come his way. If he wanted something, he tended to get it. He wasn’t conceited about it; it was just the way things were.

  For the first time it hit him that the world would view him differently from now on. Kids who knew no better would think his scars were strange. Young men with chips on their shoulders would see him as weak, a potential victim, rather than someone they would instinctively know not to mess with. He had no idea how to cope with the prospect. He already had certain anxieties about whether he would live up to Edith’s expectations. Now there was this to contend with as well.

  Flo and Stan had given him a hero’s welcome, of course, and even Mattie hadn’t teased him as much as she once would have done. Sitting at the old kitchen table, he’d set his troubles to one side, relishing being back with his family again.

  Now Billy ushered him into their new parlour and Harry knew this would be a home from home for him if he needed it. Although the window was covered by the obligatory blackout blind, Kathleen had made the room cosy, and Brian had been allowed to stay up to see the man he’d always called Uncle. Harry had scooped him up in one arm and Brian had hooted in glee. Then Barbara was presented to him, and Harry cooed at her tiny face, commenting that she was the spit of her father. It was good to see his old friends finally settled together and with their own family. Everything about it felt right: two good people reaping their just rewards.

  Chatting to them distracted him from his worries, and it wasn’t until they were in the Duke’s Arms and Billy had gone to get the drinks in that the disturbing thoughts returned. The bar was full of mirrors and shiny brass, presenting Harry with his reflection from many angles. Self-consciously he swept his hair forward and down to cover some of the scarring. It could only ever be partially successful, though. He would have had to grow his hair as long as Mattie’s to hide all the damage.

  Billy returned with two pints and set them down on the polished table.
‘Didn’t even have to put me hand in me pocket. Remember old Clarence Witherspoon from down the baker’s? He got us these, said it was a welcome home present for you.’ He raised his glass to the old man propped at one end of the bar, who nodded back. ‘You all right, Harry? What are you sitting like that for – is your arm giving you gyp?’

  Harry made the effort to sit upright and took a long sip of beer, feeling its goodness warm him. ‘Not in particular,’ he said, although he was usually in discomfort if not actual pain from where the arm had yet to fully heal after the last operation. He didn’t talk about it. There was no point, as it wouldn’t change anything.

  ‘Well, what, then?’ Billy persisted. ‘Not having second thoughts about marrying Edie, surely?’

  ‘Oh, God, no. Nothing like that.’ Harry snapped out of his misery at such a ridiculous idea.

  ‘Good, cos she’s the woman for you all right,’ Billy said with total conviction. ‘Everyone says you’re meant to have wedding nerves and all that, but I reckon it’s a load of rubbish. Best thing I ever did, marrying Kath.’

  Harry smiled at the expression on his old friend’s face. ‘I reckon you’re right. Anyone can see you’re happy together. A proper advertisement for the wedded state, you are.’ He sipped some more beer.

  ‘You’ll be like that with Edie,’ Billy predicted. ‘She won’t stand for any of your nonsense for a start. Keep you on the straight and narrow, she will.’ He set his glass down once more. ‘Well, go on, tell me. You looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders for a minute there. Here you are, back in your old local, about to be married to the love of your life – why so glum, then?’

  Harry took a deep breath, unsure whether to voice his thoughts. However, it didn’t look as if Billy was going to let him off the hook. So he plunged in, describing what had happened that afternoon.