If You Were the Only Girl, page 32
All the girls collapsed into laughter.
Early in December the girls received word that they had all passed their exams. They were very relieved. ‘It means that we can really enjoy Christmas,’ Jenny said.
‘Yes,’ Lucy agreed, ‘and I was talking to a second-year probationary yesterday, who said they always have a show like a pantomime and a concert. Everyone makes an effort at Christmas.’
‘Well, it is a special time of the year,’ Vera said, ‘and it must be awful to spend it in hospital.’
Jenny gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Don’t see why,’ she said. ‘We have to stay here too and I don’t see anyone feeling sorry for us.’
‘We had an element of choice,’ said Babs.
‘I know,’ Jenny said. ‘Aren’t we mad? We chose to work all the hours God sends with little time off and virtually no money, and as far as we are concerned Christmas will be like just another day.’
Lucy laughed. ‘You are so right, Jenny, and yet I wouldn’t want to be any place but here.’
‘I feel the same,’ Jenny said, ‘and for the life of me I don’t know why. But Mum will be pleased.’
‘And mine will be,’ Vera said. ‘I mean, I came here originally to shut her up about my becoming a doctor, but nursing sort of gets under your skin and I like it much better than I ever would doctoring because I am more involved with the patients.’
‘And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?’ Babs said. ‘The patients, and the way they are so grateful for anything you do for them. It makes you want to do more.’
‘So let’s see if we can make Christmas a really happy time for them,’ Lucy said, ‘because I think if we do we will enjoy it more ourselves.’
The following day was Friday and Lucy’s twenty-four hours off duty. She had written to Gwen and asked if she could see her, and Gwen had said she must come to stay the night. Lucy accepted the invitation gladly and was quite excited about seeing her again and staying once more in the cosy bedroom, but she went first to the Bull Ring to buy presents for Gwen and Clodagh. She intended stopping off in Aston to see her old friend whom she hadn’t seen in ages.
She took the tram to Aston Cross, and when she alighted she saw that it was a few minutes to four, according to the big green clock. Lucy remembered that when Clodagh told her about the job she had in Rocky Lane she said they got off at four on Fridays, so Lucy decided to meet her coming home.
She hadn’t gone far down the road when she heard a hooter sound. Minutes later women were pouring out of the gates of a factory and spilling over the pavements. They all looked so similar in their boots and their dark coats, the grime on their pasty faces making the scarlet lipstick seem out of place and their hair caught up in scarves worn like turbans. There was a great deal of noise too: the tramp of boots on the cobbled streets and the banter and ribaldry shouted from one to another in raucous voices, which Clodagh was to tell her later developed from having to shout above the noise of the machines.
In fact, so similar were the women in that dusky light that Lucy almost didn’t recognise Clodagh. She was dressed the same as the others and was linking arms with Hazel on one side of her and Hazel’s sister, Betty, on the other. Her tired face broke into a beam of happiness when she saw Lucy and she unlinked herself and threw her arms around her. Hazel knew her, of course, and her sister had seen Lucy when she had come to the house to tell them she had passed her nursing exams. They were very welcoming to Lucy and pressed her to go home with them for a cup of tea at least. Lucy had seen the fatigue etched on the three girls’ faces, but they were most insistent and said they would have the house to themselves as Hazel and Betty’s parents didn’t finish work until half-past five. That decided Lucy, for she did want to talk with her friend.
Once they reached the house, Lucy gave Clodagh the pale blue scarf and gloves set, and though she said it was for Christmas, Clodagh ripped the paper off straight away. She was thrilled with them and said they were the exact shade needed to go with her best coat. And then Hazel and Betty came in with a tray of tea and a packet of biscuits and settled down to a good natter.
First, the three girls told her about their jobs, which were all war-related now. They said that’s where the money was to be made. Then Clodagh asked Lucy many questions about nursing.
‘Is it as good as you thought it was going to be?’ Clodagh asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said. ‘I love it. Course, I had a good idea of what I was letting myself in for through my work at the Cottage Hospital, and the work is physically tough and the hours are long, but you feel that you are doing some good, I’d rather have it than be in service, any day of the week.’
‘Won’t be any in-service work to be had after this war,’ Clodagh said. ‘Have you heard what has been happening to the Heatheringtons?’
‘No, have you?’
‘You bet,’ Clodagh said. ‘I met Cook in the Bull Ring.’
‘You met Cook in the Bull Ring?’ Lucy repeated incredulously. Cook had seldom left the Hall.
‘Yes, listen,’ Clodagh said impatiently. ‘She’s left Maxted Hall, and Clara has.’
‘Left?’
‘Yes. To quote Cook, neither of them would work for that stuck-up besom, Jessica Ponsomby.’ Clodagh grinned, remembering the encounter. ‘She said Jessica was trying to order them about and talking to them like they were pieces of shit she’s picked up on her shoe.’
Lucy had never heard Cook utter a swear word and she said, ‘Cook never said that?’
‘She did,’ Clodagh maintained. ‘Honest, as God is my witness, those were her very words. She said Lord and Lady Heatherington were cut up about them leaving, but neither felt able to stay.’
‘I wrote to Clara a few times but did wonder if something was the matter when I didn’t get a reply,’ Lucy said. ‘And Mammy mustn’t know either because she’d have mentioned it.’
‘Well, it wasn’t that long ago they left,’ Clodagh said. ‘And Clara was really upset, so Cook said.’
Lucy remembered Clara telling them that Maxted Hall had been a sort of refuge for her when she had come to England after the death of her husband, and for that she felt she owed them something, so Lucy could imagine her distress if she’d been forced to leave through the behaviour of another. No wonder she hadn’t felt able to write.
‘Point is,’ Clodagh went on, ‘Lord Heatherington didn’t want them to leave and he took that Jessica to task for upsetting his staff and she took umbrage, and went running back to her mammy. I suppose Lord Heatherington thought, as he had sent Jessica packing, Cook and Clara would stay, and they did think about it. But they knew she could come back any time, married to Clive, and there was no one could stop her.’
‘So where did they go?’
‘Oh, they were soon fixed up,’ Clodagh said. ‘Lord Heatherington gave them both superb references – he said it was the least he could do – and they were both taken on at the Naafi at St George’s Barracks in Sutton Coldfield, and found lodgings nearby.’
‘What about Emily?’
‘She’s gone too,’ Clodagh said. ‘She just went out one day, and no one knew where she had gone, and then her father phoned and said she wasn’t coming back. And Jerry was called up, and that young gardener.’
‘Was there anyone left?’
‘Very few, but Cook said it got worse. The Master had to sell his hunters, which upset him a great deal.’
‘Oh, he thought the world of those horses.’
‘Well, there was no one to see to them, you see,’ Clodagh explained, ‘because Hilda and Bert went as well.’
‘Golly!’
‘Well, Hilda had a slight stroke.’
‘Ah, that’s a shame,’ Lucy said, remembering the kindly woman.
‘Oh, she was all right, Cook said,’ Clodagh assured Lucy. ‘But it shook her up, and she said she wanted to move closer to her daughter, wherever that is, and Lord Heatherington arranged it. Then Maxted Hall was requisitioned by the army and Lord and Lady Heatherington moved into the Lodge House with Mr Carlisle and Norah, and a local woman chars for them.’
‘What changes,’ Lucy said almost wistfully. ‘So what’s Clive doing?’
‘You don’t still hold a candle for him, do you?’
‘Of course not,’ Lucy said emphatically, trying to ignore her heart pounding and her unaccountably dry mouth. ‘But you have told me about everyone else.’
‘Clive is an officer with the Royal Warwickshires,’ Clodagh said. ‘Rumour has it that he went for it as soon as his compulsory six weeks was up, and though he had leave he didn’t come home.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘I think it was something to do with Jessica, who it’s said was showing her true colours even before the wedding. According to Cook, he actually told Clara that he would call it off if he could but it was too late. Serve him right, I say, for the way he treated you, eh?’
Lucy found that she couldn’t think vengeful thoughts of Clive but just sadness at the waste of two young lives. Clive married Jessica Ponsomby because they needed money to repair and refurbish the house and allow their lives to go on as before. But war was declared and the staff either left or were called up, the fine house was taken by the military, the hunters were sold and, if Chris was right, the fine car wouldn’t be used much because there would be no petrol. Clive’s parents, far from being saved by his marriage, were reduced to living in the Lodge House.
‘Anyway,’ Clodagh said, ‘no one knows where the hell he is, but could well be “somewhere in France” because of what some of the girls in the factory are told about their blokes away fighting.’
‘Well,’ said Lucy, ‘wherever he is, he will be in the regular army and at least able to write to his parents this time.’ She glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece and exclaimed, ‘Goodness! Is that the time? I must be on my way. Gwen will think I am not coming. You’ve given me plenty to think about.’
‘And talk about,’ Clodagh said, ‘because from what I remember, Gwen used to love a good gossip.’
‘Oh, she still does,’ Lucy said, smiling fondly. ‘One of the trials of her life is that Chris won’t talk about his work.’
‘Well, he can’t, can he?’
Lucy shrugged as she got to her feet. ‘It wouldn’t really be ethical for him to discuss people’s personal ailments with his mother, or anyone else, come to that. She’ll make a meal out of all this.’
‘I’m sure,’ Clodagh said. ‘And you hold your hand a minute because Hazel and I will walk you to the bus stop.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘There is every need with the blackout the way it is,’ Clodagh said firmly. ‘A chap at work who seems to be able to get his hands on anything got me one of those shielded torches they have just started allowing us to use, but it isn’t much good.’
‘Better than nothing at all,’ said Lucy.
Outside, the night had definitely got colder and Lucy was glad of the girls linked arms as they sallied forth, and she was cheered too by the fuzzy torchlight shining through the gloom.
‘So you ain’t got a torch?’
‘No,’ Lucy said with a sigh. ‘As soon as that directive came on the wireless, torches and batteries disappeared from the shops faster than the speed of light, it seemed to us. Not many of the nurses got their hands on one.’
‘Shall I see if this bloke can get you one?’
‘Oh, that’s nice of you, Clodagh,’ Lucy said. ‘But my time off is so limited I wouldn’t know when I will be round this way again.’
The bus came then and Lucy climbed aboard, a bit concerned how she would find her way to Gwen’s in the pitch-black because any helpful moon or twinkling stars were effectively hidden by the low, leaden clouds.
How relieved she was then to see Chris with a torch standing by the bus stop when she alighted.
‘Chris!’ she cried in delight. ‘What are you going here?’
‘Waiting for you, of course,’ Chris said. He didn’t tell her that he had been waiting the best part of an hour and it was a wonder he hadn’t stuck to the ground. Lucy wasn’t able to say anything either for suddenly a gust of wind cannoned into her, nearly lifting her off her feet. Chris prevented her falling and then, putting an arm around her shoulder, he advised, ‘Lean against me. This wind is enough to blow you over.’
Lucy was glad to do as he suggested, and as Chris’s arm tightened around her, he thought that despite the awful weather he wished the journey to his mother’s house three times as long because it would give him more time to legitimately cuddle Lucy, as he had longed to do for ages.
‘It was really nice of you to meet me, Chris,’ Lucy said as they walked, welded together. ‘I was worried enough making my way to your mother’s in the blackout. I never gave a thought to coping with the wind as well.’
‘So you haven’t managed to get hold of a torch, then?’
‘No, and I have tried everywhere.’
‘They are devilish hard to get hold of,’ Chris said, ‘but necessary in the blackout.’
‘I know,’ Lucy said. ‘All of us keep trying. We’ll probably get one eventually.’
‘Well, here we are,’ Chris said, opening the front gate. ‘Home without incident.’
Gwen fussed over them when they came in, delighted to see Lucy, though when she said she thought Chris had got lost, Lucy realised he had probably been waiting a long time at the bus stop and although there was no time stated for her to arrive she still felt guilty.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said to them both. ‘I called to see Clodagh, for we haven’t seen each other in an age, and we quite forget the time.’
‘Understandable, my dear,’ Gwen said.
‘I have a present for you.’ Lucy gave Gwen the parcel.
Gwen showed more restraint than Clodagh, though she did have a good feel round the thin paper, which was all Lucy could find to wrap things in, and she could probably guess that they were leather gloves.
‘I haven’t a present for you, I’m afraid,’ Lucy said to Chris.
‘I would have been cross if you had bought me something,’ Chris said with a smile. ‘It is not for penniless student nurses to buy presents for rich doctors.’
‘I’m not exactly penniless,’ Lucy said. ‘My mother sends me money from America.’
‘Yes, to spend on yourself, not others,’ Chris said.
‘I suppose when you are given a gift of money you can spend it as you wish,’ Lucy said with a wide smile, for she enjoyed sparring with Chris.
‘Touché,’ Chis said, with a bow, which made Lucy giggle. The sound of her laughter brought such a rush of love inside him that it was apparent on his face for just an instant. His mother saw and knew what it meant, and because she knew and loved Lucy like a daughter she was delighted.
Nothing more was said then, though, for the meal was ready to be served. It was a meal that Gwen said they should relish because rationing was being introduced in the New Year, which, though it would probably prove to be a nuisance, had to be a much fairer system than the free-for-all of the Great War. The roast beef dinner was delicious, and as they ate, Lucy regaled them with the things Clodagh had told her. She was staggered that Gwen was aware of a lot of it but, when she commented on this, Gwen said with a smile, ‘Oh, I have the WVS now. It’s a hotbed of gossip, that place is. Mind, I didn’t know a lot of what you told me, not for certain, but I sort of surmised it from the bits I did know.’
‘Don’t see why you are so interested in the Heatheringtons, anyway,’ Chris said gloomily.
‘That’s because you’re a man,’ Lucy said. ‘You’d never understand such things.’
‘Oh?’ Chris said, his eyebrows raised enquiringly. He added sardonically, ‘And of course, you are such an authority on men.’
‘Might be,’ Lucy said, with such an impish look on her face that he had the urge to pull her into his arms and cover her with kisses. He knew at that moment that he didn’t just care for Lucy, he truly loved her and probably always had. But he was ten years her senior, which she probably saw as a great age difference. She deserved someone as young and as full of vitality as she was herself.
Such a gamut of emotions crossed his face that she was looking at him quizzically, and probably wondering why he wasn’t coming back at her with some quip, but Gwen understood what had seemingly rendered her son incapable of speech. To help him, she said, ‘I’m sure that Lucy knows plenty about men, and about people in general, for she wouldn’t be such a good nurse if she didn’t understand them. But you are right, Chris, we don’t want to be discussing the Heatheringtons ad infinitum when so much is happening in the world that is affecting us.’
‘But nothing is happening yet.’ Lucy said.
‘Oh, things are,’ Chris said. ‘Because though there has been no bombing of the cities, I think Churchill was right when he said that Hitler is using a siege tactic.’
‘Oh, you mean with the ships he keeps bombing?’
‘Exactly that, Mum,’ Chris said. ‘Being an island makes us moderately safer than countries near or bordering Germany, but because we are nowhere near being self-sufficient, we have got to bring in a lot of our foodstuff. If he can stop those ships reaching us, he could starve us into submission.’
‘Golly!’ said Lucy. ‘I never thought of that. I just thought of the poor sailors who lost their lives when I heard of ships sunk. I didn’t think of the cargo the ship was probably carrying. I suppose that’s another reason to introduce rationing.’
‘I should say so,’ Chris said. ‘And so will trying to produce what we now have to import.’
‘Mmm,’ Gwen said, ‘we might have to put up with very strange meals.’
‘Ah, but no meal at all is infinitely worse,’ Lucy said.
‘I don’t think it will come to that,’ Chris said. ‘But I’m pretty sure things will be in short supply. I was talking to a man the other day and he said that thousands of hens have been killed to save on their feedstuff, so the days of a nice boiled chuckie egg for breakfast will be a thing of the past.’
