Читать книгу Only a Mother Knows - Annie Groves, Annie Groves - Страница 12

‘Dulcie,’ Olive called up the stairs, ‘you have a letter here.’

Dulcie pulled the blanket high up to her chin, wondering if she had truly heard Olive calling her, or if she was still asleep; that luxurious pastime seemed to be in short supply since her work at the munitions factory took up most of her waking hours of late. She wasn’t sure if it was the repetitive drilling of holes and riveting metal or the long, laborious shifts that robbed her of her stamina. But whatever it was she intended to finish her sleep today.

‘Dulcie!’ There was no mistaking Olive’s voice this time. Dulcie opened one blurred eye and tried to focus on the little alarm clock she had managed to save from the salvage people, who took everything they deemed necessary to go towards the building of airplanes and ammunition.

What time was it, she wondered as the muzzy wakefulness began to irritate her. Or, more importantly – what day was it? She had been sent home from the factory yesterday because of a stomach upset, in case she passed it on to every other worker. Thankfully Olive let her rest when she said that she felt so ghastly and also telephoned the munitions factory from the call box at the end of Article Row to say she wouldn’t be in today either.

‘Dulcie, did you hear me?’ Olive called again. ‘There is someone here to see you.’

‘Ohhh, go away,’ Dulcie groaned, feeling nauseous now. If she moved quickly she was sure she was going to disgrace herself and throw up all over Olive’s clean linoleum. She must have eaten something that didn’t agree with her from the newly installed canteen, or maybe it was the whelks her mother had plied her with when she went to see her on Sunday for church. Whatever it was she doubted she could hang on to it much longer.

Olive had chanced a little tap on the door earlier, giving Dulcie an old-fashioned look when she made no effort to get up, then she put a sanitary towel, a Beecham’s pill and a glass of water on the bedside table, and told her she would be back later. Dulcie had said she just needed a long sleep; she didn’t need any pads or powders today, thank you very much.

Thoughts were lazily drifting through her rising consciousness, and as she became more alert questions formed. When was the last time she had been in need of a sanitary pad? Sitting up quickly in bed, she realised it must have been about seven weeks ago! She put her lateness down to the upset caused by Wilder running off with her sister, Edith.

She knew she wasn’t the world’s most regular girl so it didn’t bother her too much that she hadn’t seen her ‘visitors’, as she always called her monthly period; after all, nothing had happened between her and Wilder. She’d made sure of that, and now she was glad the cheating airman hadn’t been able to chalk her up as another willing English girl eager to catch herself a handsome, love-’em-and-leave-’em American. And she was sure that Reece Redgrave didn’t count.

Dulcie had put her air-raid shelter tryst with the young airman down to nothing more than an accidental misunderstanding. It had only been the once and everybody knew that girls could not get caught the first time – and anyway, it had only lasted for moments, not even minutes. Nobody got caught that fast. Dulcie’s heartbeat raced, and beads of perspiration broke out on her top lip and her forehead. You couldn’t get caught that easily, surely?

‘Dulcie, did you hear me? There is someone here with a letter for you.’ It was only when she heard Olive’s obvious impatience that she realised the urgency. Her mind automatically darted to her brother, Rick, whose regiment had been deployed to the desert; she knew because she had actually seen him on the Pathé newsreel at the pictures. His regiment was in Tobruk and had been taken by surprise and captured by the Axis forces. They had got word that he had been taken as a prisoner of war.

Dulcie’s mind was racing as she pulled back the sheets and blankets. She knew that the authorities would send a telegram to her parents if anything had happened to Rick – but they had moved from the East End! Scrambling from the bed her foot got caught in the bedclothes making her stumble. What if he had been involved in an accident? Surely his platoon sergeant would come to her in person. No! They would go to Edith now. Her parents! What if something had happened to them? Oh lord, she thought, there was a war on, people were dying and she was laid up with a stomach bug! She had to do her bit, no matter what. Keep calm and carry on, that’s what the posters said. What if something had happened to her family? The niggling voice persisted. All self-pitying thoughts suddenly went out of her head now as she scrambled into her pink dressing gown she’d bought second-hand from a stall in Portobello market.

Berating herself for her unkempt appearance as she lurched from the room, Dulcie felt her stomach heave again. She hadn’t felt this bad since … In her haste to be downstairs she realised she had never felt this bad. Tying the belt of her dressing gown around her so tightly she could hardly breathe, she saw Olive at the bottom of the stairs.

‘There’s a young American airman in the front room and he wants to see you.’ Olive looked calm and motherly now as Dulcie almost fell on the final step.

‘Who is he?’ Dulcie asked as her heart began to race. Olive knew Wilder so it couldn’t be him. She watched as her landlady shrugged her shoulders. ‘What does he look like?’ She surmised Reece Redgrave had come to visit. Well, she thought, if he had she would give him a piece of her mind. Coming here unannounced and uninvited! How dare he!

Turning, she checked her appearance in the oval oak-encased mirror on the wall opposite the stairs, then, grabbing the comb that was kept on the little occasional table, she ran it quickly through her hair and grimaced, wondering if she looked sufficiently ill to garner a tremendous amount of sympathy. Taking a deep breath and smoothing down the pink imitation-silk dressing gown she strode, head high, shoulders back, towards the front room like a leading lady about to make her Broadway debut.

Sweeping through the door she was dismayed to see that it wasn’t Reece Redgrave who was sitting on Olive’s best settee. As soon as she entered the room the airman stood up and offered his hand to Dulcie, whilst in the other he had an envelope.

‘Hello, ma’am, my name is Joe; I’m a friend of Reece Redgrave …’

‘Oh, he’s sent you to do his dirty work, has he?’ Dulcie said, angry now that he wasn’t who she thought he would be.

‘I don’t know about that, ma’am,’ said the surprised American, ‘but he’s been moping around the barracks, he didn’t go out nor nothin’. This letter is for you, it has your name and address on it so I thought I would deliver it …’ The rest of his words were left unsaid as Dulcie seized the letter he was holding out.

‘I suppose it’s a grovelling apology. Well, if he thinks he can get around me by sending his messenger he’s got another think coming because I’m not won over that easily.’ She was so annoyed that Reece had sent one of his buddies to give her the letter. ‘Some English girls have more pride than to fall at the feet of the next American airman who winks his eye and snaps his fingers, and another thing,’ she began as she roughly tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

‘I’m afraid he’s dead, ma’am,’ the airman said simply.

Dulcie heard a gasp and she realised that Olive was standing behind her.

‘This was in his locker; it was sealed and addressed to you so we thought it only right that it should be delivered. I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, ma’am. He was shot down off the coast of Northern Ireland.’

Dulcie’s hands shook so badly she almost dropped the letter, and after hurrying up the stairs she slammed the bedroom door and cried bitter tears until she was physically sick. She was still sobbing when Olive knocked a couple of minutes later.

‘Can I come in?’

Dulcie barely choked her consent and she couldn’t even utter the words screaming inside her head. Reece was dead. It was a nightmare. She’d met him fleetingly. She’d forgotten that she told him where she lived because she was so proud of her address. She hadn’t expected him to remember it so vividly, but, she recalled, he had no family, but he must have somebody – anybody. Surely she wasn’t the only girl he had been friendly with?

Dulcie cried as she tried to make out his neat, copperplate handwriting that told her he was sorry he had mistaken her friendliness for something else and that he really did like her a lot. He went on to say that although he had never been loved like that before he would always treasure the memory and he hoped that she would too. He really liked her and thought she was a great gal, and if he could summon up the courage to ever send this letter he would love to ask her out and start all over again …

Dulcie quickly wiped away her tears with the pad of her hand. He must have written the letter just after … She couldn’t bring herself to think about the time in the air-raid shelter. She had been so wanton, so decadently immoral and … drunk! But not drunk enough to forget.

Dulcie could not ignore the fact that she gave Reece his first and probably his last thrill of a woman’s body. And now he was dead.

‘Here, drink this,’ Olive said as she sat on the bed and handed her the glass of water. Dulcie looked into Olive’s kind, motherly eyes and without any need of proof, she knew for certain now that she was carrying Reece’s baby.

‘Oh, Olive,’ Dulcie cried, ‘is Sally home?’

‘No, Dulcie, she isn’t,’ Olive said, ‘but judging by the look of you I think I’d better call Dr Shaw.’

All morning Sally carried out her duties with a smile on her face, a spring in her step and a song in her heart. The sun was shining through the sash windows of the Nightingale ward where injured servicemen were recovering in regimented rows of iron beds whilst a few of them had actually commented on her sunny personality.

‘You look like the cat what’s got the cream, Nurse,’ said one Geordie wag before she briskly popped a thermometer in his mouth and plumped his pillows.

‘You can’t beat a lovely sunny morning,’ Sally smiled, giving nothing away. Everything could have been so different if George had accepted back his engagement ring and they had actually broken up, when they’d had their big discussion earlier in the year. She had been so sure he wouldn’t want a ready-made family, and she couldn’t have rejected baby Alice after all she had been through. It wasn’t the child’s fault, after all, that she had been born into such a treacherous family.

However, George had proved he had a heart of gold when Sally returned home to Article Row to find him playing in the back garden with baby Alice and reassuring Sally that nothing could diminish the love he felt for her.

‘There’s a dark cloud coming over that horizon though,’ said a patient on the other side of the men’s surgical ward, ‘so I’d enjoy it whilst it lasts if I were you, Nurse.’

‘Don’t be such a pessimist, soldier,’ Sally laughed, knowing nothing could dampen her spirits today. When her morning shift was over, George was meeting her for lunch, as he had come to Bart’s to see her, having a couple of days off from the Queen Victoria, and she couldn’t wait to see him. They were going to the National Gallery, as Olive was taking Alice out for the afternoon. and she was so looking forward to their time together.

But an hour later as she and George left Bart’s, the soldier’s forecast became reality when the clouds burst and a powerful downpour came so quickly and so forcefully it bounced off the pavement and had them running for the nearest shelter.

‘Let’s get something to eat before we go to the gallery,’ George said, pulling up the collar of his Crombie overcoat and lowering the brim of his herringbone-patterned trilby against the deluge, whilst Sally wrestled with her umbrella against an unseasonal sudden gust of wind. George took the umbrella and opened it with ease before Sally linked her arm through his. His long, rapid strides caused her to almost run to keep up with him.

‘Hey, what’s the rush? You must be hungry.’ Sally gave a small, nervous laugh. George seemed preoccupied, his thoughts elsewhere and he certainly was not talkative.

‘Is something the matter, George?’ Sally looked up at him and, with his head bent and him being slightly ahead of her, she couldn’t read his expression beneath the rim of his hat. Being a quiet, thoughtful man by nature it wasn’t unusual for the two of them to walk in a companionable silence, each lost in their own idyllic thoughts of the future, content in the security of their love for each other.

But that was before she told George about Alice. He still wanted to stand by his promise to spend the rest of his life with her, he had assured her, but since then his whole manner had become so different from the way he had been before that Sally worried George was having second thoughts. With her arm outstretched in an effort to keep hold of his coat sleeve she wasn’t sure he wanted to be with her at all today.

‘Let’s go in here,’ George said, steering her into a nearby British Restaurant, almost causing her to trip. Then, steadying her without a word, his eyes seemed to say it all. Their usually warm glow was replaced with a sad reproach. She had never seen him like this, and momentarily it unnerved her as she could feel her heart sinking.

‘George?’ Sally wanted the truth, and she wanted it now. ‘Have I said something wrong?’

‘No, darling,’ George said quickly – too quickly, ‘of course you haven’t.’ He took her hand and wrapped his capable, talented fingers around hers as he edged her into the window seat they were lucky enough to bag even though the place was busy with lunchtime workers and shoppers.

After placing her umbrella in the stand near the door George went to find a waitress and Sally watched him. He looked tired, suddenly. She hadn’t noticed that before, and she wondered if he was getting enough sleep. There hadn’t been an air raid for a few weeks now, so his shift patterns were more stable than they had been during the worst of the Blitz. But Sally still worried that he did too much, knowing he thought nothing of jumping into another shift if the hospital was busy, or if another doctor needed help he would be the first to offer.

Feeling slightly uneasy sitting in full view of people passing the window, with its criss-cross tape adorning the large plate glass, Sally turned her engagement ring around her finger, mesmerised by the glint from the weak rays of sunshine now popping through the clouds as the rain eased, and was glad when George returned to the table.

‘They said the menu is on the wall,’ he informed Sally. ‘Anything you fancy?’

‘Just soup for me,’ she answered after quickly studying what was on offer today and not really wanting anything to eat for some reason. She had been so happy and full of hope this morning. For the first time in weeks she felt she could tell George anything. But now she wasn’t so sure.

‘I know it must have come as a shock when I told you about Alice,’ Sally ventured as they waited for their order, all the time watching him closely, worrying what impact her words were having. ‘I was concerned that, being such a kind and gentle man, you would feel duty bound to take the two of us on after saying you would and then regret it but be too kind to say so?’

‘It isn’t like that, Sally.’ George gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘That’s not the case at all. I think Alice is a lovely child and I would be proud to bring her up as my own. I am so glad you told me about her, because I want to get to know and love her as much as you do.’

‘Then what’s wrong George?’ Sally asked, knowing George had been acting strangely for a while now and she still didn’t have a clue why. He seemed even more reserved and distracted than usual. And given that he wouldn’t look her in the eye, as he usually did, she wondered if he really had gone off her and was trying to gently let her down. ‘Is it me, George?’ She had to know.

‘No, never!’ She saw the look of alarm flash across his face. ‘Never, never would I stop loving you, Sally, I couldn’t.’

‘Be that as it may,’ Sally answered, acknowledging he sounded sincere enough, and in his heart he probably meant every word. But what about his family? What would they think of their talented son taking up with a girl who had a child to bring up? George might have every intention in the world of bringing up Alice, but his mother could well have other ideas, and it was this thought that worried her now.

Sally didn’t have time to answer as the waitress brought them each a bowl of vegetable soup and some bread. There was an uneasy silence between them now broken only by the low buzz of conversation from fellow diners and the distant singing voices of Flanagan and Allen urging the rabbit to run, run, run.

And Sally knew exactly how it felt, as they completed the rest of their meal in a strained silence. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it would be a criminal waste of good food she would have left it, as her appetite had all but disappeared, and she was having a difficult job of swallowing the soup even though it really was delicious. Slowly they managed to clear their bowls, each lost in their thoughts.

‘Have you had enough to eat?’ George asked and Sally nodded with an air of inevitability; the meal had been a disaster, and after George threw half a crown onto the little plate for the two threepenny soups, he helped her into her coat. They walked out of the restaurant without waiting for the two shillings change and Sally knew the smiling waitress was going to have a happy day today with such a good tip to spend.

‘Sally, I …’ He was finding it hard to say what needed to be said, so she helped him.

‘George, do you mind if we don’t go to the gallery? I am so tired, I didn’t sleep well last night, Alice was fractious and …’

‘No my dear, certainly not.’ His words came out in a relieved rush. ‘I have a mountain of paperwork, and reports coming up to my knees.’ He gave a small stab at humour but neither of them was in the mood for frivolity. ‘I will walk you back to Article Row and …’

‘I don’t mind walking alone if you have to take the train back to the hospital,’ Sally lied. She did mind. She minded terribly, but there was nothing she could do about it as the sinking sensation of disappointment threatened to overwhelm her. However, quietly, she refused to let George see her disappointment.

‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home on your own. Anyway, I’m staying in Drew’s room just for a couple of nights, now that he’s gone back to America,’ George said kindly, taking her hand as if there was nothing wrong. ‘Makes me feel quite nostalgic for when everyone used to lodge there. You must have a rest, you look tired.’

‘Alice will soon put paid to that idea,’ Sally laughed with forced brightness, ‘but Olive will welcome the break from looking after her, I should imagine.’

‘I’m sure she won’t,’ George said, unconsciously tucking her hand into his pocket, something he had done since they spent their weekend away together. ‘From what I’ve seen, Alice is smothered with love from every direction; she’s a very lucky little girl to have such an adoring female family.’

Sally looked up at him and for the first time that day he smiled, really smiled, as if the thought actually brought him pleasure and for a fleeting moment Sally wanted to beg him to spend the rest of the day with her, but she didn’t. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

Back at number 13, Article Row, George politely refused Olive’s offer of a cup of tea, explaining he had a lot of work to finish before the next morning. And after walking with him down the long hallway, Sally was more than a little surprised when she received a chaste kiss on her cheek. Placing his trilby hat on his head at a jaunty angle, George turned without another word and walked out of the front door.

Olive recounted to Sally that she’d had to call the doctor for Dulcie who had received a terrible shock: a friend of Wilder’s, whom she had known too, had been shot down and killed the night before.

‘I’ll check on her later,’ Sally said a little distractedly, looking out of the window.

‘Is something the matter, Sally?’ Olive asked, her voice full of concern when she came into the kitchen after checking on Dulcie and putting baby Alice down for her afternoon nap. ‘You look a bit pale, I hope you’re not coming down with this bug as well.’ She didn’t like to see the young woman so down.

‘I think George has gone off me now he knows about Alice,’ Sally said abruptly.

‘No!’ Olive’s eyes widened: she’d worried this might happen after their weekend away together. And even though they were a very mature, responsible couple, George had savoured the fruit of Sally’s love, and now it looked like he was losing his appetite. Olive sighed; she didn’t have George down as a love-’em-and-leave-’em type of chap but who knew what was going on in a man’s mind these days?

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Sally countered. ‘I’m being silly, I’m sure everything will be fine,’ she added over-brightly, not sure at all.

‘Of course it will,’ Olive said. ‘George is very busy; his mind must be full of worries.’ ‘Worries’ being the war and the added casualties, she thought, pulling her chair from under the table, knowing everybody was under a huge amount of added pressure. However she couldn’t bear to see ‘her girls’ upset, and even if she was overstepping the mark she wouldn’t let any of them suffer alone and in silence; one never knew what the next few hours could bring.

‘I did think he looked a little pre-occupied, if you don’t mind me saying …’

‘Oh, you’re right, Olive, he’s been ever so busy at the hospital,’ Sally said quickly, ‘and in his spare time he has to deal with writing up all those reports and …’ It was no use, her throat constricted and her chin trembled and she couldn’t continue. Without any more warning Sally suddenly burst into floods of tears. In a flash Olive was at her side, cooing and shushing her like her mother used to do, cocooning her convulsive shoulders.

‘Never mind, my dear,’ Olive cooed, ‘you just let it all out.’ After a few moments Sally’s tears receded and Olive offered her hot tea after putting in an extra half spoon of sugar and put down the cup, which thanks to the shortages was resting on a mismatched saucer. ‘Drink this whilst it’s hot, it’ll do you the world of good.’

‘Tea solves all ills.’ Sally didn’t intend her voice to sound so abrupt. ‘I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful …’

‘Don’t you give it another thought, my dear,’ Olive said, stalling Sally’s apologies. ‘You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need me.’ She resumed her seat on the other side of the table and her warm, caring eyes viewed Sally’s sadness with maternal compassion. ‘You know where I am if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen.’

‘Thank you, Olive, I’ll remember that.’ Sally gave the other woman a watery smile before blowing her nose and shrugging a little. She couldn’t possibly tell Olive that there was also the question of what would happen to Alice if she and George didn’t marry now; someone had to look after the child – and she had to work. How else would they be able to afford to live in Article Row if she wasn’t earning? Olive was a wonderful woman, everybody knew that, but she couldn’t conjure up food and heating out of thin air.

‘Why don’t you go over to him?’ Olive asked Sally after draining her cup. ‘You will feel much better if you know one way or the other.’

‘Know what?’ Sally asked weakly, not feeling strong enough for this.

‘Know how much work he has to do, maybe you could help.’ Sally looked at Olive and wondered if she should? She knew she wouldn’t rest until she and George had cleared the air and she found out what his problem was, because it was obvious there was one, no matter how much he tried to persuade her everything was fine. Also, Sally knew she couldn’t risk another night without sleep.

‘Go on,’ Olive said, ‘take as much time as you like, Alice is fine here with us.’

Sally jumped up before her courage could fail her again and she gave Olive a huge hug. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’

‘Get away with you.’ Olive smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘And don’t come back here until you’ve got everything sorted out once and for all.’ She knew her girls seemed wrapped up in their own personal conflicts now. She had to be strong for all of them.

In Hyde Park on their last day together, Tilly thought, Drew had let her waffle on, talking about the war and how it must feel to lose somebody they loved, and all the time he was aware that he, too, could lose the woman who had brought him into the world and gave him life. Drew, kind, loving Drew, who had let her talk of how things could be, when all along his heart was breaking.

A dry sob shook her body as Tilly realised yet again how special he really was, how considerate of the feelings of others who were suffering even when his own emotions were being put to the test.

Unable to hold it all together any longer, the dam of Tilly’s sorrow burst forth and scalding tears coursed down her cheeks. Alone in her room she dared not let her mother see her until her tears had subsided and she didn’t think that would be for a good while yet.

However, she realised when she could think more clearly, lying still and calmer now, it wasn’t Drew’s mother she had cried for – she didn’t know the woman – but she did know that Drew would be deeply shocked and saddened. And it was he who was deserving of her commiserations now. Tilly knew he felt things more keenly than most people. He cared deeply for those he didn’t even know, so she could only imagine how his mother’s passing would devastate him. He would be suffering so much and she was heartbroken that she could not be by his side to comfort and console him. And this grieved her more than words could say.

Feeling a little reckless and with Olive’s encouragement still ringing in her ears Sally knew she wasn’t going to let George go as easily as she first imagined she would. Slipping the key he had given her earlier into the Yale lock, Sally vowed she would coax him with her own method of loving, which would persuade him that she and Alice were the only family he would ever need. And as Drew had gone back to America she knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Silently opening the sitting-room door Sally wasn’t surprised that the only sound in the house was the heartbeat tick of the clock on the mantelpiece, and knowing George would be concentrating on his files in the study she crept in so as not to disturb him. However, as she stepped into the room another unexpected sound could be heard.

The clink of a bottle hitting the rim of a crystal glass was followed by the gentle glug of liquid being poured, and Sally wondered, all of a sudden, if she was intruding. Maybe George had company? Her heart beat accelerated.

‘Hello, George,’ Sally managed to say quietly when she saw him at the sideboard and realised he was alone. George had been oblivious to her presence it seemed, going by his astonished expression when he wheeled around and spilled some of his drink. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ But it wasn’t his look of amazement that gave Sally cause for concern – it was the realisation that he was absolutely stumbling drunk.

‘Shally.’ George slurred her name and raised his glass, giving her a lopsided half-smile. ‘Come and have a little drinky with me.’

‘I think you’ve had enough, George.’ She had left him not more than an hour ago. How could he possibly have got himself into this state in such a short space of time? He must have drunk the alcohol like water.

‘C’mon, let’s have a little drinky and then …’ His eyes had a glassy gleam she had never seen before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. He flapped the brandy bottle in the air and invited her, with a come-hither wave of his other hand, to join him. Sally wasn’t even sure he could see her properly, he was so drunk. However, he wasn’t so drunk he didn’t notice her hesitation. Slowly, with great concentration, he placed the bottle on the sideboard, then, taking a deep breath, he said in slow, measured tones, ‘Shally … let me exshplain … hic …’ His intoxicated state had led to an outbreak of hiccups, which he found quite amusing – even though Sally did not when she recognised he was so sloshed he couldn’t make it back to the sofa unaided.

‘Here, let me help you before you fall over.’ Sally wrinkled her nose as he tried to give her a big wet slobbery kiss on the cheek and succeeded in landing in a dishevelled heap on the sofa, scattering cushions and laughing inanely at nothing in particular. She knew George wasn’t a heavy drinker; in fact neither of them cared much for alcohol. Instead they much preferred going to the pictures or the theatre, but most of all they liked to keep a clear head. So for George to get into this state Sally knew he must have something very disturbing on his mind.

‘I’ll get you a cup of black coffee, George, it might sober you up a little,’ Sally said in her most professional, no-nonsense voice which she used to settle unruly squaddies who tried it on. She turned to leave the room, but felt herself being held back by her wrist, and as she quickly turned she found herself being pulled towards George, and landed on top of him with a thump. For as much as she loved him and would usually welcome such an intimate embrace, Sally wasn’t too keen on the strong brandy smell that seemed to emanate from his every pore, nor the one-eyed stare as he tried to focus.

‘Let me get you that coffee, darling,’ Sally said in her most soothing tones as she scrambled to her feet. There was absolutely nothing George could do to stop her as he couldn’t get to his own feet in such an inebriated condition, and in fact he was so far gone he couldn’t keep his other eye open either.

When Sally returned moments later with two cups of black coffee, George’s head was hanging over the side of the settee, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and he was snoring like an overstuffed pig. Sally noticed the brandy glass, balanced precariously between his fingers, was spilling its contents onto the carpet. George, she noted with concern, was dead to the world and experiencing no pain, but Sally couldn’t guarantee he would feel that way when he woke up later; in fact she would lay money on him feeling very sorry for himself.

Looking at him now, even in this drunken state, she knew she would forgive him, eventually. However, she worried it would be too dangerous to leave him alone.

‘What if you vomited in your sleep?’ Sally asked the unconscious George. ‘You could choke to death. What if you tried to climb the stairs? You could fall down and break your neck!’ No, she thought, there was nothing for it but to stay until he was safely awake. ‘And when you wake up later with a screaming hangover there will be words, George, and most of them will be coming from me.’

It was late and growing dark when George began to stir, and Sally could tell just by the putty-coloured tinge around his gills that he was suffering an explosive hangover.

‘Feeling queasy, George?’ Sally asked, secretly satisfied he wasn’t feeling up to answering her back. ‘You have slept like a dead man for hours, I daren’t leave you.’ She hoped that Olive wouldn’t be too cross about looking after Alice all this time, but it was imperative she made sure George was safe. ‘I’ve taken advantage of Olive’s good nature for too long already, George,’ she said, watching as he leaned forward and buried his head in his two hands. ‘I can’t expect her to look after Alice indefinitely.’

‘Sally, darling, can you just be quiet for one moment.’ George had never so much as disagreed with her before now, and she was shocked to the core to hear him telling her to shut up now. She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation and then, thinking better of it, she closed it again. How could he speak to her like this? Was this the proof she needed that he had gone off her after all and decided to drink himself into oblivion before he could break the bad news? ‘I’ve joined up,’ he said simply, looking defeated. Momentarily, not one single thought passed through Sally’s dumfounded brain. Then the realisation began to creep in. Joined up? Joined up!

‘But George, you have a job here!’

‘A safe job, you mean!’ George looked so angry when he said that and then he told her he had enlisted in the Royal Navy that very morning as a ship’s surgeon and no matter how many times he tried to get it into her head that he was doing the honourable thing Sally would not listen.

She was so angry she left him standing in the middle of the room looking dishevelled and smelling like a brewery whilst she went to make him some black coffee. Once she had gathered her thoughts together she would decide on what to do next.

‘Don’t you understand, Sally, I need to do this.’ George followed her to the kitchen ‘I cannot let my fellow countrymen down and hide behind the privilege of a consultancy – oh, did I tell you I got the consultant’s job? – Today, would you believe.’ He gave a hard, almost bitter laugh; Sally knew he’d waited so long for the position.

‘But, George, you are needed here!’ Her words, so strangled, were barely audible.

‘Tell me, Sally, who needs me more than those poor brave men torpedoed out of the water?’

‘I do, George,’ Sally answered, all her fight depleted now.