Authors: Maggie Hope
Tags: #Nurses, #World War; 1939-1945, #Sagas, #War & Military, #Fiction
A Wartime Nurse (39 page)
The beach was still crowded with day-trippers. They took off their shoes and left them where the dry sand met the rest still damp from the tide and paddled along the water’s edge. Richard squealed and jumped about as the cold water hit his bare feet and ran up the beach a way, but was soon back and wading happily.
‘Are there any fish, Mam? Or crabs? We’ve been learning about crabs at school – they pinch your toes.’
‘Well, you’ll just have to watch out for them and not let one get you, won’t you?’
They walked the length of the beach and after a while the water was no longer cold to their feet but delicious and refreshing, and their toes sank into the damp sand and that was delicious too. They bought sandwiches from a tea kiosk on the sands, spam sandwiches, which in normal circumstances Richard wouldn’t eat but he ate every last crumb of these and an ice-cream after. And the late afternoon seemed endless, white clouds too small to obscure the sun for long chasing across the sky, and the North Sea was blue instead of the usual colour Theda remembered, gun-metal grey.
It was high tea in the boarding house at half-past six and in the end they had to run across the road in their bare feet for of course she had forgotten that the tide line was changing all the time and the sea had taken their shoes. They found them again, dripping wet, washed up by a wave and had to carry them. They were unwearable. So they bought sandshoes at another kiosk on the front, and a tin bucket with a picture of a boy with a ball on it, and a wooden spade.
There were fish and chips for tea and the cod was fresh and white and flaky, and rice pudding after. Well, what did she expect for nine and sixpence a day? Theda asked herself and ate it up with an appetite that matched Richard’s.
‘Can we go back on the beach now?’ he asked. ‘Aw, come on, Mam – just for half an hour.’
‘Half an hour, then it’s time for bed.’ It was way past bedtime really, but what the heck?
But when they crossed the road this time the beach had disappeared. Or at least there was just a thin line of sand in places and waves were splashing up against the sea wall. Richard was disappointed and inclined to be tearful. Theda lifted him up in her arms but he struggled to escape and ran forward, not looking where he was going, straight into an enormous Old English sheepdog. Down he went, and the dog too, but the dog picked himself up and bent over the boy, barking furiously.
Theda ran forward. ‘Go away! Go away, you brute,’ she cried, waving her arms about. The dog backed off and she picked up the boy and sat down on one of the benches that lined the promenade and hugged him to her.
‘Hush now, never mind, pet,’ she said, and examined a graze, which had appeared on his knee.
‘Let me look at that,’ said a voice. It must be the owner of the dog, she thought, and cradled Richard protectively. Fury mounted in her at anyone who would let a great brute like that free in a place where bairns were playing.
‘I’ll see to it myself,’ she shouted, not even looking at him. ‘I’m a nurse. Why don’t you keep your dog under control? He’s vicious, that’s what he is, great lumping thing!’
‘In the first place, he’s a she, and if you take a proper look at her you’ll see she’s not in the least vicious. It was the boy who ran into her. She wouldn’t usually have barked at him, she was startled, that’s all. Now come on, let me look at him. You may be a nurse but I’m a doctor.’ He lifted Richard’s leg up by the heel of his sandshoe and inspected the graze, and smiled at the boy.
Slowly, as Theda realized that Richard was not really hurt apart from the graze on his knee, for which the only treatment needed was a wash and a piece of plaster, she calmed down and began to realise she knew that voice. Oh, yes, she did. She couldn’t believe it though. She looked up at him and saw he was gazing at her, open-mouthed.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she asked Ken.
‘Theda? Theda Wearmouth?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘She’s called Flora, Mam, did you hear the man say? She’s a lovely dog, isn’t she, Mam? Can we have a dog? I’ll look after it, I promise, take it for walks and that, find it stuff to eat. Please, Mam, can we have a dog, a big dog like Flora?’
‘We’ll see,’ Theda temporised. Richard was standing by the wash basin while she dried him. She had sponged him down and for once he hadn’t insisted on doing it himself, he was too busy talking.
‘Yes, but can we, Mam?’ Richard insisted. He looked anxiously at her with Ken’s eyes and her heart turned over. Surely Ken had seen how alike they were? Trembling a little, she picked up the boy’s pyjamas and put them on him.
‘Into bed now, no more talking. I’ll read you a story and then you must go to sleep. You want to go on the beach tomorrow, don’t you?’
‘I do, Mam, I do. Flora might be there, mightn’t she? We can go in the water together. It won’t matter if we get splashed, will it? I mean, I’ll have my trunks on and Flora—’
‘No more talking, I said. Now which story do you want?’
But Richard was already dropping off to sleep, his eyelids closing, lashes fanning out over his cheeks. ‘Two more whole days,’ he was saying, and turned over with his back to the light and was off.
Theda sat by the window in the near dark, looking out over the promenade. The window was open and she could hear the sea, like the wind soughing through trees, but rhythmically rather than wildly. Now Richard was taken care of, she could think about her own reactions to seeing Ken so unexpectedly.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she had asked, almost as though he had no right to be. And the scene repeated itself in her mind.
‘I live here,’ he said, and pointed to a pre-war villa just off the front. ‘Do you see? The one with the lilac by the front door.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘For some reason I thought you lived in Marsden.’
‘No, but my family does, if you remember.’
Oh, yes, she remembered. She felt hot all over at how much she remembered. Dear Lord, she wasn’t prepared for this, she needed time.
‘I have to go,’ she said, setting the child down and getting rapidly to her feet. ‘Come along, Richard.’
‘Look at him, Mam, look at the dog! He’s licking me, Mam, look!’
‘She. Her name’s Flora,’ Ken said automatically, but he was still gazing at Theda. ‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘No!’ she said, and then realising she had been too vehement. ‘No, there’s no need. We’re staying just across the road. The Britannia boarding house.’
‘Oh, yes. Not far from me then,’ he commented. ‘I’ll come along anyway. Heel, Flora.’ Obediently the dog left Richard and went to her master, standing patiently while he attached a lead to her collar.
They stood in a row on the kerb, waiting for a gap in the traffic, and then crossed the road and were at the boarding house. Theda turned to Ken.
‘We’ll go in then. It’s Richard’s bedtime, he’s tired,’ she said.
‘No, I’m not,’ he declared. ‘Are you going to be on the beach tomorrow, sir?’ He was on his best behaviour, thought Theda, amused even in her confusion. He had to be to remember to call Ken ‘sir’ instead of ‘mister’.
‘My name’s Ken, Ken Collins. Yes, I think we will. We’re there most mornings I don’t have to go to the hospital. What’s your name, son?’
Theda caught her breath. ‘Look, we really have to go—’ she said, pulling Richard towards the front door of the boarding house.
‘Richard, my name’s Richard,’ he called. ‘Don’t pull, Mam, I’m coming.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ said Ken. ‘Down by the ice-cream kiosk? Ten o’clock?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’
‘Aw, yes we will, Mam – say we will!’
Ken took a step towards her. ‘Look, Theda, I was trying to find out where you were. In fact I’d just found out that you were living and working in Durham City. I was going to come and see you; isn’t this a great coincidence?’
Theda’s face closed up. ‘Oh, yes, a great coincidence. Mind, there’s likely to be a few great coincidences in five years, aren’t there? Good night then. Richard, say goodnight to Mr Collins.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Collins, I’ll see you tomorrow. Will you buy me a cornet?’
‘Richard!’ Theda opened the door and closed it behind her, hearing Ken saying something behind her but not what it was. ‘You don’t ask strangers for treats, don’t let me have to tell you again.’
‘But he’s not a stranger, Mam. You said you know him. You do know him, Mam,’ wailed Richard, as they climbed the stairs to their room.
I do know him, thought Theda, going to the window and staring out to sea. There were lights out on the horizon, no doubt ships and small boats going into harbour at Shields or somewhere. Why on earth had she picked Seaburn? She could just as easily have gone to South Shields or Whitley Bay even.
Five years hadn’t changed her much, thought Ken as he let himself into the house. Her hair was still as black and abundant and her eyes wide and brown with the brows arched over them. Funny that he should have been making enquiries about her these last few weeks without actually getting to the point of finding her, and here she was, on his own doorstep, so to speak.
He took Flora into the kitchen and put food in her bowl, made sure there was enough fresh water for her. ‘Stay,’ he said, and she looked up from the bowl and whined softly before accepting the fact that he was going out and returning to her food. Ken went upstairs and washed and shaved and put on fresh clothes then went out to his car. And all the time his mind was on Theda and the little boy who reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who.
Half-heartedly he started the engine and drove out on to the road south. He was going to dinner at the farm; he had promised Gran he would go tonight.
‘I’m getting on, you know,’ she had said on the telephone, ‘you should come more often.’
Ken smiled. So far as he could tell she was as fit as anyone who had reached the age of seventy-six could be, but she was not above a little emotional blackmail when she thought it was warranted.
It was only a short drive to Marsden and he had little time to think about his meeting with Theda and the boy. He ate dinner with the family and sat afterwards and discussed farm business with his brother and his Uncle Jack. But Walt soon went out, though when he was asked was cagey about where he was going, muttering that he might call in at the Whitworth Arms.
‘I don’t know why our lads have to be so secretive when they start courting,’ Meg commented. I’m sure we’d be glad to get them off our hands, wouldn’t we, Jane?’ She spoke to her daughter but she was looking at Ken.
‘Who do you mean, Gran?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think Uncle Jack is courting. You’re not, are you, Jack?’
‘Don’t talk so soft,’ growled his uncle.
‘It’s well time you sorted yourself out, our Ken,’ said Meg. ‘If you’re not careful you’ll end up a grumpy old bachelor. Time you were finding yourself a nice lass and settling down.’
‘I might just do that,’ he agreed, completely taking the wind out of her sails.
Driving back to Seaburn, he found himself looking forward to the next morning. He had no clinic or theatre list and wouldn’t be going into the hospital at all unless called. He could spend the whole day on the beach with Flora.
He saw them cross the road and the esplanade and come down the steps to the beach as Flora began barking in an excitement that matched Richard’s. They saw Ken and Richard ran towards him and the dog ran to meet the boy as though she had known him all her life.
Theda followed more slowly, feeling suddenly unsure of herself.
‘Good morning, Nurse Wearmouth,’ Ken said, and smiled down at her. ‘I’ve been watching you.’
‘Morning.’ She gazed at him, this man who was a stranger yet not a stranger, and thought, What the heck? Why worry about being hurt again, sieze the moment.
‘Can I take my shoes and socks off?’ asked Richard, and she took them and put them in her holdall, then she and Ken began walking down the beach just above the water line while Richard and Flora paddled at the water’s edge. They walked in silence for a while, Theda searching for something to say though anything she thought of seemed unsuitable. In the end she took refuge in the banal subject of the weather.
‘Nice morning, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. A cool breeze off the sea, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s not a sea fret before the day’s out. The North Sea doesn’t warm up until the late summer and when the warmth of the sun hits it we get a fret. Or a haar, if you like.’
‘Yes.’ They walked on, watching Richard who had found a piece of driftwood and was throwing it into the sea for Flora to retrieve. Obligingly the dog brought it back and Richard threw it again.
‘He’ll tire before the dog,’ said Ken.
‘Yes.’ He would be beginning to think that was all she could say. Theda cast a quick glance at him sideways and saw he was grinning, eyes dancing with merriment, and she grinned at him too and relaxed.
They found a place sheltered from the wind but close enough to the sea so that they could keep an eye on Richard and Flora. Ken got deck chairs and put them side by side. They chatted, carefully at first, talking about their time at the prisoner-of-war hospital and carefully skirting round anything at all about the time he went away.
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