Читать книгу The District Nurses of Victory Walk - Annie Groves, Annie Groves - Страница 9

Gwen wove her way along the busy street, automatically dodging the boys running messages for their employers, the housewives shopping for food, the small children too young to go to school. Her mind was whirling and she longed for the peace and quiet of her room at the nurses’ home to think about what she’d just heard.

She’d met up with her old friend Miriam for a cup of tea in a café just off Kingsland Road. Miriam, as always, was immaculately turned out, far more fashionable than Gwen had ever been, even when she’d been young and cared about such things. Miriam’s smart navy suit with wide white-trimmed collar put Gwen’s serviceable old brown jacket to shame.

However, Miriam had looked troubled and Gwen soon found out why. Miriam’s husband ran an upholstery factory not far from the café, and for years the business had been growing steadily. Now there was a change in the air, and unrest among some of the people working there. ‘It’s that Oswald Mosley, he stokes them up,’ Miriam complained. ‘He tells them it’s the Jews who are behind the threat of war, that it’s all our fault. Damn the man. You know his followers are doing disgusting things, pinning pigs’ heads to the synagogues, defacing our shops. It’s made Jacob really worried. Now, when he goes to business meetings, he says some of his former contacts ignore him.’

‘Mosley’s lot talk about peace though,’ Gwen pointed out.

‘Gwen!’ Miriam had been shocked. ‘You’re never telling me you agree with the Fascists? If you do, you’re not the woman I thought you were.’

‘No, no, of course not,’ Gwen said hurriedly. ‘It’s just that I can’t bear the thought of another war. You know what it’s like, you lived through the last one.’ She sighed. ‘I want to believe there’s hope that it won’t happen. Surely there’s still a chance?’

Miriam had raised a beautifully shaped eyebrow at her friend. ‘And if you believe that, Gwen, then again, you aren’t the woman I thought you were.’

They had changed the subject, turning to news of Miriam and Jacob’s son Max, who was in New York, partly for business and partly taking advantage of the chance to see the world. ‘I think he’s met a girl,’ Miriam confided. ‘He won’t say much – he never does. But a mother can tell.’

Gwen had nodded sagely, even though she had no children of her own.

Now she strolled slowly back to Victory Walk, her unease increasing with every step. She wanted so badly to hope that there wouldn’t be another war. What had happened twenty-five years ago had been unbearable and she didn’t think she could go through it all over again. She glanced at the street sign, thinking that it would be a hollow victory indeed if it was all to start up once more. But she was a realist, not a dreamer, and Miriam’s words had confirmed her growing fears. Miriam wasn’t given to despair; her own life had taught her to make the best of things. So if she was gloomy about the future, Gwen took it very seriously.

She valued her time with her friend. It was a respite from the hard daily work of a nurse, and also it was wonderful to chat with somebody her own age. Fiona Dewar was sensible and kind, but as superintendent of the busy nurses’ home she rarely had a moment for a casual chinwag. Gwen sighed. She couldn’t blame the other nurses for being young – after all, she herself had once been their age. But she could blame them – or at least some of them – for their silliness.

That Mary Perkins for a start. Heaven only knew how the girl had managed to qualify as a nurse. She had no common sense at all. To be fair, Gwen could see that she was good with her many elderly patients, warm and friendly. But she was as daft as a brush. She seemed to believe whatever anybody told her, whether it was likely to be true or not. How on earth had she ever passed her exams?

Then there were those new arrivals. Gwen prided herself on being a good judge of character and she could sense that Edith Gillespie had trouble written all over her. As yet she’d done nothing, but then she’d only been at the home for a week. Gwen decided to keep a very close eye on that one. She didn’t like disruptive influences in the home – that meant everyone was on edge and therefore didn’t work as well. That in turn might mean one of them could make a mistake, possibly a fatal one. She couldn’t allow that.

She was less sure about the other young woman, the taller one with the dark blonde hair. She was much harder to read. So far she’d shown herself to be competent and steady. Fiona had let slip that she had outstanding references. However, she gave very little away. She hadn’t shown any tendency towards flightiness, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t lurking there underneath. Gwen decided to keep a close eye on her as well, just in case. You couldn’t be too careful in this profession.

Pushing open the door to the nurses’ home she was greeted with a whoop of joy from somewhere on the lower-ground floor, probably the common room, and then there was a loud burst of laughter. Two seconds later Mary Perkins and that new girl, Edith, came skidding out into the corridor, hastily turning their run into a walk when they saw her glowering at them from the front porch.

‘I’m glad to see you are enjoying yourselves,’ Gwen said firmly, ‘but I must remind you that there is to be no running along the corridors. What if someone were to come down the stairs, possibly carrying something sharp?’

Mary Perkins nodded. ‘Of course. We were just pleased to find out that we’ve got the same free time this week.’

Gwen moved to one side to let them past. She doubted the pair would be spending their leisure hours studying together, or doing anything useful. She closed her eyes briefly. She really mustn’t condemn them out of hand, and yet she reckoned they didn’t have two ounces of brain cells to rub together between them.

‘Oooh, look, they’re definitely Canadian.’ Mary perched on her stool to one side of the Paramount’s dance floor, eyeing the crowd. She nudged Edith, who was looking the other way, trying to catch a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors.

‘Careful! You nearly had my ginger beer.’ Edith adjusted herself on her stool. She knew it was a mistake to wear a white frock out dancing, it showed every smudge and spill, but she couldn’t resist showing it off. It had a tight waistband, full skirt and deep stiff collar, and she reckoned it was her best chance of looking suave and sophisticated. Being so short, she often felt like a schoolgirl. The downside of this frock was the pressing need to avoid anyone who might knock over a drink on it. Such as Mary.

Mary herself had piled her hair high and wore an equally arresting dress in turquoise silk, designed to draw attention to her curves. It was drawing the attentions of the Canadians right now, and two broke from their group and made their way over.

‘Excuse me, ladies, but would you care for a dance?’ asked the taller one, and Mary immediately jumped off her stool. Edith took in his friend, a pleasant-enough seeming young man, slightly more bashful but evidently keen to hit the floor. ‘Shall we?’ she said, carefully putting her glass on a small side table.

‘Gosh, you’re a good dancer,’ Mary said after the Canadians had reluctantly retreated in order to catch their breath. ‘I can see you’ve done this before.’ The loud hum of many young people enjoying themselves almost drowned out her voice.

‘I have, though I didn’t come here very often,’ Edith admitted. ‘Tottenham Court Road was too far from where I grew up, and we trained in West London so it was usually the Hammersmith Palais. That’s too far from Dalston though. Anyway, you’re not so bad yourself.’

‘That nice pilot was very sweet and said all the right things, but actually he had two left feet. I had to do all the work while making him think he was leading me.’ Mary sighed. ‘Why is it some grown men can’t count to four? It’s not hard.’

‘I hope he’s better at numbers when he’s navigating,’ Edith giggled, swigging the last of her ginger beer. Then her face fell. ‘Talking of numbers, have you seen the time? We’ve well and truly missed curfew.’

Mary shrugged. ‘We knew we probably would.’

Edith looked guilty. ‘Yes, but Alice will wait up. It’s not fair on her. We’ll have to go. What a shame, here come those pilots again. You explain to them we must be off and I’ll go and queue at the cloakroom.’

Mary nodded reluctantly. ‘All right, although we might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I don’t want to upset Alice, though. You fetch my cream jacket and I’ll let these nice young men down gently, and won’t tell them it’s because one of them can’t dance for toffee.’

Edith and Mary crept carefully along the back fence of the nurses’ home, having just caught the last bus. The ground behind the home was uneven and tricky to navigate in their dancing shoes, which made Edith want to giggle. She knew that would be a bad idea. It was a warm evening and some of her fellow nurses might have kept their windows open, which would surely mean they would hear every unusual noise.

‘Ouch!’ Mary grabbed on to Edith’s arm as she nearly twisted her ankle. ‘That was lucky, I thought I was a goner then. That will teach me to wear heels. I could take them off but these stones will rip my stockings to bits.’

‘Shh, keep it down,’ Edith hissed. ‘We’re nearly there.’ She felt along the fence, testing each panel by gently pushing it, until she found the spot she was searching for. With a little creak it gave way, exposing a gap just wide enough to squeeze through. Carefully she gathered her skirt and hoiked it up so she wouldn’t rip the seam. ‘Mind that nail, don’t want to damage your lovely silk frock.’ She gave a final wriggle and was through.

Mary struggled to fit through the gap, cursing the curves that had brought her so much admiration during the evening. She finally made it, but there was a splintering noise as the adjacent panel gave way. ‘Now what?’ she asked.

‘Shhh. Not so loud. I left one of the common-room windows open just a little and asked Alice to check nobody had shut it before she went to bed.’ Edith made her way across the back yard and approached the casement. ‘This is it. I hope she didn’t wait up for us.’

Slowly she edged the sash upwards, making sure not to let it squeak in its frame, and then pulled herself up and over the window ledge and into the common room. ‘Here, take my hands, I’ll pull you up,’ she whispered, not knowing how agile Mary was. Excelling on the dance floor didn’t mean she would have the strength to climb in through a window.

Mary gratefully accepted the help and struggled to reach the windowsill, using all her strength to make it over the threshold. ‘Gosh, that was harder than I thought,’ she admitted, sinking down onto the nearest chair in the dark room. The streetlight from the side road illuminated the sofas and the dining tables, all neatly laid and waiting for the following morning’s breakfast.

Slowly it became clear there was a tall figure standing by the entrance to the service room, half hidden by the deep shadow. ‘Alice? Is that you?’ Edith called as loudly as she dared.

The figure came swiftly forwards; the hair was scraped back in a severe bun, not falling in long waves, and too late Edith realised her mistake. ‘Nurse Gillespie, Nurse Perkins,’ snapped Gwen. ‘What is the meaning of this? Not only have you broken the rule of curfew, which is there for a very good reason, namely your own protection, but you are also utterly incompetent. If you intend to go sneaking around at night, you might consider your clothing. That dress and that jacket make you stand out like beacons. Clearly you don’t mind missing your sleep but I do. You will report to me before breakfast in the morning.’ With that she turned briskly and strode out, leaving Edith and Mary with a cold feeling of fear in their stomachs.

‘Was it awful?’ Alice asked in sympathy when Edith finally took her place at the table for breakfast. There was very little left, but Alice had saved some toast for her friend and persuaded Gladys not to put the butter and marmalade away.

Edith’s shoulders slumped in dejection. ‘It wasn’t very nice. She hauled us both over the coals. There wasn’t much we could say as we were caught red-handed.’ She brightened a little. ‘Still, I convinced her that you weren’t part of it. I stupidly said your name when I climbed in and Gwen was sure you were down here somewhere up to no good, but I just said I thought she was you because you’re both tall.’

Alice pulled a face. ‘That’s kind. I did check the window for you, though, so I’m guilty too. Should I tell her – will that make her less cross?’

Edith shook her head vehemently. ‘No. Absolutely not. It won’t achieve anything useful; it’ll just make her mistrust you as much as she does Mary and me, which you don’t deserve seeing as you didn’t go out dancing but stayed in with your book. And anyway …’ She took a big bite out of her toast ‘… you’d only get in the way. Me and Mary have got to clear out the district room, wash the whole place down with Dettol – shelves, cupboards, walls, the lot – and then put it back together again. Two’s plenty for that. Oh, and we’re grounded for a week.’

‘That’s tough luck.’ Alice grimaced, sorry for her friend. ‘But was it worth it? Did you enjoy yourselves?’

Edith gave a cheeky grin. She was rarely depressed for long. ‘It was. You should see the Paramount. It’s packed to the rafters with people who want to dance, including some very friendly Canadians. I didn’t really fancy mine but he was good for a few spins on the dance floor and he bought me a ginger beer. So yes, it was worth it.’

‘You are impossible.’ Part of Alice thought she should disapprove of her friend taking such a risk but the other part knew how much Edith enjoyed a night out.

‘Not at all. It was good clean fun. Maybe you’ll come along next time?’

Alice’s expression closed down. ‘Maybe,’ she said cautiously, in the tone of voice that Edith knew meant ‘no’.