A Wartime Nurse (25 page)
Authors: Maggie Hope
Tags: #Nurses, #World War; 1939-1945, #Sagas, #War & Military, #Fiction
Meg’s face took on a sad faraway expression. ‘Aye, I remember what it was like.’
‘Grandma, stop quizzing the lass, let her have her tea.’ Surprisingly, that was Walt. Theda looked at him. He was very like Ken except that his eyes were darker and his complexion ruddy as befitted a man who worked outdoors most of the time. He had a pleasant open expression and she warmed to him.
After the initial surprise, the family seemed to accept her presence quite naturally and she was able to sit back and enjoy her tea and scone as they asked how Tucker was and talked about the doings on the farm and the likelihood of the war ending soon. And then Jack and Walt were putting down their cups and going back out to work and Meg was clearing the table.
‘I’ll help,’ Theda offered, and without any demur Meg agreed and took her out to the scullery, leaving Ken to talk with his mother.
Meg asked after the people she knew in Winton: asked if the Armstrongs still had the newspaper shops around the town, and mentioned how she liked the bands in the Bishop’s Park on a Sunday afternoon. And Theda told her what was happening as far as she knew, which ones had got married, which families had lost their men in the war. They got on well, she thought, as though they had known each other for years. Meg reminded her of her own grandmother back in Wheatley Hill.
Afterwards Theda walked with Ken up the fields to the wood on the skyline to see the view: the land sloping away down to the sea, neat fields, well-tended by the look of them, and the tiny figures of Walt and his uncle carting hay to the sheep which gathered in a corner of the field, baa-ing and jumping over each other to get at the food.
‘It’s lovely, Ken,’ Theda said. ‘I don’t know how you could bear to leave it.’ It was, too; even the smoke stacks from the colliery by the sea looked a natural part of the scene, their smoke blending into the clouds.
‘If we go now we’ll just have time to walk along the cliff edge to the lighthouse – the rock formations are unique,’ he said, and they ran down the path past the farmhouse and out on to the road. The pit yard and rows of miners’ cottages were as grey and dreary as any other mining village but that was more than compensated for by the dramatic coastline with its steep cliffs and Marsden Rock standing against the breakers, connected to the land only by a natural bridge formation. Gulls wheeled about crying mournfully and in the distance a fleet of trawlers was making its way into the harbour at Shields.
Theda stood quietly watching and Ken put an arm around her shoulders. The primary school bell rang out and children began to march out of the nearby school yard in orderly rows which broke into yelling, racing gangs as they left authority behind.
‘Time for tea and then we must be on our way back,’ said Ken. He smiled down at her and kissed her lightly on the lips.
‘“Oh, soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me?”’ girls’ voices shrilled as they were surrounded by a pack of ten-year-olds, their faces alight with mischief. ‘Is she your sweetheart, soldier? Go on, give her a proper kiss!’
Ken laughed and made as if to chase them and they scattered, shrieking with pretend alarm.
‘It’s been a lovely day. Thank you for bringing me,’ Theda said. They walked back to the farm and ate the rabbit pie that Meg had made for high tea and then it was time to go.
‘Come back whenever you like, Theda,’ said Jane. Though she had sat quietly by the fire for most of the time Theda was there, she looked better than when they had first come; her cheeks had a tinge of pink and her eyes were bright as Ken bent down to kiss her cheek.
‘Aye, you do that,’ said Walt, who was busy putting on his boots yet again so as to go out and lock up the hens. ‘At least you’re friendlier than Julie.’ A small silence greeted this remark and Theda glanced from one to the other. Ken was looking thunderous and it was Meg who jumped in, covering up, filling the moment with small talk.
‘I’ve packed a dozen eggs for your mother, Theda, and a bit of butter. And don’t forget to take Tucker his,’ she admonished Ken.
They drove back as darkness was falling, made even thicker by the storm clouds that had gathered suddenly, spilling even more rain, which slanted across the windscreen, obscuring their vision. Ken was quiet, concentrating on his driving, and Theda was content to sit quietly too.
He dropped her on the end of West Row, making no suggestion that they go anywhere for the evening. And it was only as she watched him go away up the lane towards the manager’s house that she remembered that he had said there was something they needed to discuss.
‘Did you have a nice day, pet?’ asked her mother as Theda put her parcels down on the kitchen table.
‘Lovely.’
Bea looked at her curiously. Theda was disinclined to talk, she could tell, she knew that closed look she had on her face. No doubt she would hear all about it when her daughter was ready to tell her.
‘I hope you thanked them properly for the eggs and butter,’ was all she said now. ‘By, it must be lovely to have a farm nowadays, eh?’
Clara came in like a whirlwind and bolted her food down, anxious to get washed and changed so that she could go and meet Dean in Darlington.
‘I don’t know, our Clara,’ said Bea doubtfully, ‘a young lass wandering all that way on her own . . . it means two buses an’ all, and you’re going to be pretty late.’
‘Don’t fuss, Mam,’ was all Clara answered, and Theda covertly studied her. She was radiant with happiness for Dean had been grounded for the foreseeable future and their wedding plans were proceeding apace.
‘You don’t look very happy. What’s up? I thought you had a date today?’ Clara asked, but she wasn’t really interested, too full of her own doings. Theda saw her mother frown fiercely and mouth, ‘Alan!’, and it was even more depressing that it had nothing to do with him; she hadn’t even thought of him all day.
Theda soon made pressure of work an excuse for deciding to go back to the hospital that evening instead of the following morning. It was almost impossible to have any privacy in the tiny house in West Row and privacy was what she needed so she could think things out. She felt that events were running away with her, and that she had no control over them at all. The feelings she was developing for Ken were beginning to dictate all her actions and she still had enough common sense to know she couldn’t allow that to go on.
Back in her narrow room in the nurses’ home, she went early to bed and lay on her back, hands behind her head. Julie . . . she would give anything to know who Julie was, and what had happened to her. It was obvious by the way Ken had reacted that the girl had some sort of hold over him. In which case it was no good her going on fooling herself that she could make him love her. For that was what she had been doing, she realised that now. She loved him, that was the trouble.
And it wasn’t only physical, though the attraction between them was so powerful. She wanted him, the very thought making her body ache for him. If he had suggested a place for them to go tonight she would have gone, though she had told herself all day she wouldn’t. And she had been so critical of Clara! What a hypocrite she was! Turning over on to her side, Theda closed her eyes resolutely. She would get over this, oh, yes she would, she told herself for the thousandth time. She was her own woman, nobody else’s.
‘What do you think? There’s a new registrar. We’ve got a civilian one now,’ said Sister. It was the next morning and Theda and Sister Smith were taking the report from the night staff.
‘A new registrar?’ echoed Theda’s voice, sounding stupid in her own ears.
‘That’s what I said.’ Sister leaned back on the desk and folded her arms across her spotless apron. ‘Major Collins has been recalled to Europe somewhere – I can’t say where. It all happened in a tremendous rush. Our new man comes from Durham. Just until they get a military man from Catterick, I suppose.’
‘But—’ Theda began, and stopped. She bent her head over the report, feeling faint. Picking up the book, she pretended an intense interest in the fact that a new patient had arrived during the night, a suspected gastric ulcer: Wilhelm Foch, ex-submariner. No doubt his ulcer had been brought on by the dreadful diet the submariners had to put up with, according to the others they had nursed. Or the stress of being cooped up in a submarine . . .
‘’Bye, Sister. ’Bye, Staff.’ The night nurse was going. Sister Smith was looking out the case notes ready for the rounds.
‘I hate getting used to new doctors,’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t you, Staff?’
‘What? Oh, yes, Sister.’ Had he left a letter for her? Of course he would have done. When she went on her break there would be one in her pigeon hole outside the main office. But why had he had to go so suddenly? Or had he known yesterday, was that what he had been going to tell her?
‘It was very sudden, wasn’t it, Sister?’
Sister Smith looked up from the notes and stared at Theda. ‘What was?’
‘Major Collins going,’ she managed to get out.
‘I don’t know, I’m sure.’ Sister shook her head impatiently. ‘Oh, come on, get a move on, Staff. You’ll have to get things organised or Mr Kent will be here to see the new man before we get the ward tidied up. And Major Koestler will be wanting to examine him.’
Somehow, Theda got through the morning, her training taking over so that she was able to put her mind to the jobs in hand. But when she had a few minutes to herself she hurried over to the cubby holes in Block One. There was no note from Ken. She couldn’t believe it. She even put her hand in and touched the bare wood of the hole. Later, instead of going to the dining-room for lunch she went to her room and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The afternoon was little better. She told herself Ken must have let a message with someone but no one came up to her and gave her a note or a letter. Of course he could have posted a note to her . . . he probably had, she reckoned. There was nothing to do but wait for the postman to bring her word from him.
She couldn’t go home that evening, had to work extra hours as the Staff Nurse on Block Two was again off work sick. Which was just as well, Theda told herself. She didn’t think she could face the family without breaking down and howling her frustration at the world and the unfairness of it and the war and the way individuals were sent arbitrarily away at the whim of some nameless person, moving names around on a map. And without so much as twenty-four hours’ notice.
It was only as she sat in the dining-room with a fork in her hand, pushing around the mashed potatoes and tinned beans covered in dark brown gravy and pretending to eat it whenever someone she knew came in, that a horrible suspicion rose in her mind. Perhaps he had known about it? Perhaps that was why he’d seemed so cold yesterday evening? He just didn’t know how to tell her he was going away and didn’t think that what they had together was worth carrying on.
Well, she thought, sometime during the night, to hell with him! She wasn’t going to let a man like that get her down. So she had been a bloody fool, but she had learned something. It most definitely wouldn’t happen again. Oh, no, it damn well would not. She didn’t need a man and she definitely didn’t need
that
man. Not her.
that
man. Not her.
Deliberately she forced herself to think of her future. Tomorrow she would apply to go to Sunderland Infirmary to begin her midwifery training. The war was almost over, so she should be able to get a transfer. There was bound to be a baby boom when the soldiers came back and the Government would be well aware of that. They would need all the midwives they could train, not least because a lot of the older ones had stayed on past retirement age because of the war and would want to retire as soon as it was over.
Then, later on, she would train to go on the district; that was what she really wanted, had always been her ambition. That was the trouble with women, she told herself sternly. They were too easily distracted from their ambitions and lost sight of their goals in life. To hell with men, and especially doctors. Especially handsome doctors with cool grey eyes who took advantage of gullible nurses and then left them high and dry.
Theda turned on her side and wept. She wept for Alan and how she had betrayed his memory, and she wept for herself. Then she got out of bed and went to the bathroom and washed her face and neck in icy cold water, rubbing hard at the skin with a rough towel. Going back to bed, she burrowed under the clothes, shivering until the warmth from the blankets seeped through to her bones and then she felt calmer. It would be the last time she wept over a man, she thought.
‘Bugger!’ she said aloud into the silence but the word wasn’t strong enough. She fell asleep as she was trying to think of a better one.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘There’s an urgent message for you, Ken,’ said Tucker when he called in on the Saturday evening with his basket of eggs and butter from the farm. ‘You are to ring the hospital, right away.’
Ken groaned. That was just what he needed: an emergency at the hospital. All he wanted to do was retire to his room and try to analyse his mixed-up feelings. The day hadn’t gone at all as he had intended it to, at least the end of it hadn’t. And it was his fault, he was well aware of that. Julie had been dead for two years now, and it really was past the time he should let her memory overshadow his life. And there was Theda now, his feelings for her were . . .
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