Call Nurse Jenny (21 page)

Following him, Matthew found himself in the place where he and the others were to live out the next few weeks; a place with all its port holes well screwed down so no light could escape across a pitch-dark sea to lurking U-boats, their quarters thus promising to become hot and unbearable as they approached the tropics; a place where narrow wooden bunks had been built almost side by side, forcing men by lack of space to share with their fellows most of their personal functions, including seasickness. The all too few, once-elegant toilet facilities for paying passengers, now to be called latrines, had had all but their basic amenities torn out, even their doors, and were painted overall-grey. They needed to accommodate four times as many troops. A line of convenient buckets fixed nearby to make up for the lack of facilities would soon waft their stink to the quarters as they filled before being emptied by fatigue squads. It was a place where snoring, coughing, farting, scratching, conversation and talking in one’s sleep would be no secret from anyone.

In this impending claustrophobic atmosphere, Bob dropped his kit down on to a so-far unclaimed area, once beautifully carpeted, now mere metal deck where he and the rest of them would be expected to share their lives in close harmony with all walks of life.

‘Like a bloody cargo of meat,’ he observed drily and everyone agreed, finding the quip unfunny.

Settled on a top bunk, Matthew wrote his first letters home, the first a brief one to his parents, the second to Susan pouring out all that he had been unable to say to her face. He’d have given the world to see her read it, see her smile with all the confidence he was instilling in her of his safe return.

He could hardly wait for the letter to be collected along with everyone else’s and taken ashore for posting prior to moving off, yet it would go with his mixed feelings. In a couple of days it would reach Susan. By then he’d be nearly a thousand miles away. So he concentrated on visualising her beautiful oval face, her tremulous smile as she read, her expression glowing with love, with the certainty of his coming back to her. He worked on retaining that vision. It was one he must carry with him to whatever ends of the earth he was bound for as with the clanging of bells and the deep rumbling of engines vibrating through his whole body, diminishing, then building up again, the great ship began to slide away from the dockside.

His letters sent on their way, Matthew went up on deck – better than meditating below – to watch the huge one-time P&O liner do its majestic about-turn in the incredibly narrow channel, the deep heavy pulsating of engines finally dying away to a regular thumping that in a while would be hardly noticeable, a rhythm to which its cargo of troops would work, rest and think for weeks to come before again setting foot on terra firma.

Jenny sat on the cold park bench staring down at the ring, a band of three diamonds, sitting snugly in the box he had brought from his pocket. What on earth was she to say to him?

‘You gave me no warning or what you intended, Ronald.’

It was almost an accusation. What was she supposed to say – this is so sudden – like in those Hollywood films they turned out, those love-scene dialogues so unreal? Don’t ask for the moon, darling, when we have the stars … Was that it? It would seem laughable if this wasn’t so serious.

She turned her eyes from the surprise engagement ring to the man who now held it up for her inspection, ready to be slipped on to her finger. But she had her gloves on. Was she supposed to take them off, or would he? It all threatened to become a clumsy business, stripping it of any romance there might have been. Romance? Really, she wasn’t sure she loved him enough to accept his ring. The thing was, she’d let him make love to her. Well, not actually make love, although he’d seen more of her than she’d intended him to see, for every time they got into a clinch, something stopped her, almost as if she were saving herself for someone else. But what someone else? Well, she knew who that was. But it was silly. He was beyond any hope of hers. Married, overseas, his wife waiting for his return. And yet, to accept this ring, this contract for marriage, would be to finally accept the absurdity of that dream to which she had clung for so long.

‘You must have known, Jenny,’ he was saying, his eyes full of query, his good-looking face a picture.

She looked back at him. Yes, he was handsome. Any girl would have taken him immediately. He could have his pick, but he had chosen her. What did he see in her? What did he see that Matthew had never seen? Yet handsome as he was, there was something missing. What it was she couldn’t say. Whatever it was, it wasn’t right to hurt him. Ronald, I don’t love you.

‘I suppose I should have expected it,’ she answered instead.

‘Then put it on, my love.’

Grasping the fingertips of the woollen glove with her right hand, she pulled it off carefully, finger by finger, making a meal of it, the damp cold December air touching her exposed hand, and held out the hand for him. She watched him slip the ring over the knuckle of her engagement finger with a sort of ritual reverence. It went on so easily, she wondered how and when he had discovered her fit, pondering over it when she ought to have been gasping with pleasure at his wordless proposal.

Hardly giving her time, sitting there in Green Park, to admire what glitter the stars afforded the diamonds with no other lighting, not even a moon visible, he gathered her into his arms.

‘Darling Jenny, you’ve made me the happiest man. The first moment I get, I’ll take you to meet my parents. They’ll be so surprised.’

Silently Jenny allowed herself to be held, leaning against him at an awkward angle. Seeing her ring glittering but faintly in the darkness over his shoulder she thought of what lay ahead. His parents lived in Bristol. All she could think of was having to go all that way to meet them, of being introduced into his life, quite expected to leave her own behind her. There was her mother to think of. She had no one else but her. Left behind and lonely. There were all the things she had known. Left behind. And there was Matthew, part of her past. Left behind. Panic seemed to take a great bite out of her heart.

‘No!’ She pushed him away, so hard and suddenly that he all but fell off the seat, regaining his balance with an effort. ‘No, Ronald, I can’t.’

He looked so taken aback, she could have cried. But there was no altering what she had said. ‘I really can’t, Ronald.’

‘Why not?’ For a moment he looked stupid, then he relaxed a little, even grinned. ‘Come on, darling. It is a bit frightening I expect, saying yes. But it’ll be all right. Let’s just sit here quietly for a while. Let you get used to the idea. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. But we don’t have to get married immediately. A few weeks, a couple of months perhaps.’

‘But there’s my mother. She doesn’t know.’

‘Neither do my parents. We’ll tell them as soon as possible. I’ll write to mine and you write to your mother, warn them … no, not warn them, tell them. Oh, Jenny, I’ve dreamed of this day – me giving you a ring and you accepting. We’ll be …’

‘I haven’t accepted yet, Ronald.’

‘What?’

‘I haven’t accepted. You put the ring on my finger, then you grabbed me and cuddled me.’

‘You let me put it on. You let me cuddle you.’

‘I wasn’t thinking. You took me by surprise. It all happened too quickly for me to say anything.’

Comprehension was creeping not so much into his expression, which in the dark she could not properly see, but into his voice, the stiffening of his posture. ‘You mean, you don’t want me? You don’t want to marry me?’ His consternation mounted as Jenny remained silent, unable to trust her voice. ‘But we get on so well.’

‘I know.’ She had to say something. ‘I just don’t … I don’t know.’

‘You don’t love me enough to marry me.’

‘Oh, Ronald.’ What was she trying to appeal to? He got up, took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet.

‘We should be getting back to the hospital. I’m on call tonight.’

‘What about the ring?’ It was as though they were discussing work.

‘Keep it for now. See how you feel as time goes on. I suppose I did jump the gun a bit. But I do love you.’

‘I know you do.’ How could he stay so calm? Another man would be ranting and raving at her now, for letting him down, making a fool of him.

‘Don’t you love me at all?’ was all he said.

Her heart went out to him. How could she say to him, ‘I like you’? How could she insult him like that? In a way she did love him. If only that other face didn’t persist in floating before her eyes. Ronald made her feel good when he was around, feel wanted, feel important. His touch did excite. But when he wasn’t there, she didn’t think about him at all, had never found herself yearning for the time to come for them to meet. So did she love him or not? It seemed she didn’t, yet when she saw him her heart leaped with the pleasure of seeing him. They got on well together, never quarrelled. They could chat until the cows came home. She felt easy with him in a way she had never done with Matthew Ward. But Matthew, though claimed, still haunted her.

‘You took me by surprise,’ she said miserably for an answer as they began making their way out of the darkened park whose gates stood open all night so people could gain access at a moment’s notice to the air-raid shelters built there. ‘Don’t be annoyed.’

‘I’m not annoyed.’ No, he wasn’t annoyed, just deeply hurt.

‘I need time to get used to it. I will keep the ring for a while. And I will think about it, Ronald. I promise.’

After all, she must. Theirs would be a stable marriage, she knew that by just knowing him. She would be a fool not to say yes in the end.

‘Good girl,’ he breathed, his confidence returning, and gave her a thank-you peck on the cheek as they walked on through the darkened streets.

Bombay had hit the troops newly arrived from the sedate, restrained British Isles, most never having set foot on any foreign soil before, not even France, like a bomb. It was an exotic disturbing place, full of disquiet and unheaval. Fine buildings rubbed shoulders with such squalor as Matthew could never have imagined and made him at first feel sickened. But slowly, confronted by its sights and sounds, its unfamiliar aromas and an atmosphere so indigenous that it seemed there could be no other city in the world like this, his eyes became blinded to all but the worst of sights, and all his prayers were those of gratitude that their final destination had been here and nowhere else.

Amid speculation they had pulled in to Gibraltar, spent a day on the Rock while U-boats reported to be lurking outside the Med were being dealt with by the Royal Navy. They hardly had time to see anything Gib had to offer before the ship sailed onward, not into the Mediterranean as had been expected but south, down the coast of Africa, pausing at Cape Town, then round into the Indian Ocean where they finally disembarked at Bombay.

In the pleasant warmth of an Indian November, Matthew sat on his bed writing letters home to say where he had landed up and thought of the chill sleet of England, and of the commission he’d narrowly missed by being too complacent and seeking it too late. Now he saw it as providential that he had not done so. Had he got a commission, who was to say he might not have ended up on some field of battle instead of here. It
was
providence. He should have known. He had always been pretty lucky in nearly everything.

Leaving her house, Jenny saw Matthew’s wife emerge from hers. They caught sight of each other at the same time; she saw the girl hesitate and almost draw back as though about to hurry back indoors. But Jenny wasn’t to be avoided. She turned in her direction, her steps rapid. ‘Hi, there!’

She had been aching for weeks to have a chat with her, telling herself it was of no consequence to her if she didn’t, yet feeling a compulsion to look over to the Wards’ house every time she came home. She’d told herself she was only coming home at every opportunity for her mother’s sake, yet a tiny voice inside her kept repeating the true reason for her visits. That tiny voice was telling her now of the truth behind the avid eagerness with which she called out, ‘Hi, there!’

The girl smiled, nodded briefly, but the ice was broken.

In seconds Jenny was at her side. ‘Haven’t seen much of you since we were introduced.’ She was talking like some schoolgirl, far too fast, far too exuberant.

Susan shook her head rather solemnly. ‘I haven’t been out a lot.’

‘Well, I only get home at odd times. That’s a nurse’s life for you.’ She laughed.

‘You’re a nurse?’

‘Didn’t Matthew mention it?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

They had begun to walk towards the main road, Jenny hiding her disappointment that Matthew hadn’t thought of her even enough to mention her job to his wife. But then, he wouldn’t, would he?

‘Where are you off to, then?’ she asked and saw the girl shrug.

‘I don’t know really. I just had to get out for a walk somewhere. I was going to the park, but it don’t matter much where I go.’

She sounded so down. Jenny took a quick guess at what must have driven the girl out. She herself wouldn’t relish being closeted with Mrs Ward for days on end. Her own mother with her constant small complaints of loneliness was enough to endure, but Jenny reckoned Mrs Ward could knock spots off Mumsy for driving a person away.

‘It’s a bit chilly for walking,’ she observed as she fell in beside her. A thin fog was threatening to thicken. It clung with cold fingers around cheeks and lips and penetrated the shoulders of the heaviest coat. In mid November, elsewhere on the Continent, flurries of dry snow probably covered everything in glorious pristine white – she still felt a thrill at new fresh snow for all its inconvenience – but here it only got damp and any snow that might fall would soon melt on this seawashed island. Yet she’d rather have all the peasouper fogs unconquered England could dish out than the dazzling whiteness of an occupied Europe. Nineteen forty-two waited just six weeks away – how much longer would this war go on and when would Matthew come home again?

‘Have you heard from Matthew?’

Susan appeared to brighten up. ‘We had his first letters in the week. Airmail. One for me and one for his parents. From India, Bombay.’