Far From Home (45 page)

‘I’ve left the front door open with Mrs Finch standing guard until the doctor comes,’ said Peggy, rushing into the room with a clean cloth, a pile of newspapers, and a bowl of cold water.

Spreading the newspaper over the puddle by the gas fire, she wrung out the cloth in the cold water and gently bathed Danuta’s face. ‘How quickly are they coming?’ she murmured to Polly.

‘About every five minutes,’ was the grim reply. ‘Danuta, I’m going to need to take a look and see what’s going on down there. Can you roll on to your back and lift your knees?’

As the pain eased, Danuta uncurled and did as she was asked. She was too far gone to feel any embarrassment.

‘She’s almost fully dilated,’ murmured Polly. ‘Whether we like it or not, this baby is on its way. Peggy, get hot water, clean towels, a pair of scissors and some disinfectant – barring that, alcohol would do.’

Danuta was crying now and begging Polly in Polish not to bring her baby out – to try and keep it where it belonged until it was the proper time – for it was all she had left of Jean-Luc and she’d promised to keep it safe.

But her pleas were for nothing because, of course, Polly didn’t understand and Danuta was in too much pain for her overwrought brain to work in a foreign language.

‘Now, now, Danuta. I’m here, my dear.’ Dr Craig was rather out of breath after climbing the stairs, but his gentle voice had an immediate soothing effect on them all as he introduced himself to Peggy and asked Polly for a quick summary of events.

Danuta grabbed his hand, jabbering away in Polish, begging him to stop the baby from coming – to make everything all right.

‘Let me have a look and see what’s happening down there, and then I can give you a better idea of what to do about it,’ he said calmly. He examined Danuta and then placed his stethoscope on her swollen belly and listened intently.

Danuta watched him fearfully, her gaze fixed to his face, trying to read his expression and gauge his reaction to what he was hearing. She’d been a theatre nurse long enough to know when a doctor was worried about his patient – and she could see Dr Craig’s frown as he moved the stethoscope over the tight drum of her swollen belly. Another deep wave of pain began to overwhelm her and she gritted her teeth and tried to fight it.

‘Try and work with the pain and you will find it much easier to bear,’ said Dr Craig. He took her wrist and felt her pulse, and then returned to the other end of the bed. ‘When you feel the urge to push, then do so with all your might,’ he said softly and calmly. ‘Your baby is on its way.’

‘But too soon,’ she panted. ‘Is he alive? Can you hear his heartbeat?’

‘It was very faint,’ he replied, as he washed his hands in the bowl of warm water Peggy had brought upstairs. ‘He is in some distress, and must be delivered quickly if he’s to have any chance of survival.’ He glanced at her as he dried his hands, and the doubt in his expression served only to stoke her deepest fears.

The pain was deeper now, more demanding, and the urge to push was overwhelming. She strained and strained and then fell back against the pillows, drenched in sweat, her heart beating like a drum.

‘The cord is round the neck,’ said Dr Craig sharply. ‘Don’t push until I tell you,’ he ordered Danuta. ‘Pass me those scissors, Nurse Brown.’

Danuta could feel the pain returning and the unstoppable need to push her child out, but she resisted, clinging to him, knowing it was all she could do to help save him.

‘Now you can push all you like.’

Danuta pushed for all she was worth, the sweat stinging her eyes, every muscle in her body working to give birth.

‘That’s it, well done,’ said Dr Craig.

Danuta felt her child slither from her. There was no cry – no sound at all as Dr Craig wrapped it in the towel. ‘Is he alive?’ she asked fearfully. ‘Why doesn’t he cry?’

Dr Craig didn’t answer as he laid the bundle on the other bed and gently cleared its mouth and nose before massaging the still chest and breathing into its mouth.

Danuta was vaguely aware of the contraction which shed the afterbirth – of Polly swiftly cleaning her up and pulling the sheet over her. Her whole focus was on the tiny bundle on the other bed, and the man who was so desperately trying to stir life into it.

‘I have done something wrong for this to happen?’ she asked fearfully. ‘I have hurt my baby?’

‘It is nature’s way sometimes,’ he murmured sadly. ‘You did nothing wrong, Danuta.’

A feeble cry broke the awful silence, and Danuta burst into tears. She reached out for her baby, every part of her yearning to hold him.

‘You have a daughter, Danuta,’ said Dr Craig, as he carefully placed the bundle in her arms. ‘But she is too small and very weak.’ There were tears in his eyes as he regarded her. ‘I’m so sorry, but there is nothing I can do to save her. You must prepare yourself to say goodbye to her.’

Danuta looked down at the tiny scrap in her arms. A daughter. Jean-Luc’s daughter, born of love amidst a time of fear and danger – but born too soon, already preparing to leave her. ‘Her name is Katarzyna,’ she managed through her tears. ‘It means “Pure” in Polish.’

Danuta felt her heart drawn to her as she ran a soft finger over the dark down of her head, felt the tears prick as she saw how beautiful her eyelashes were, how sweet her tiny mouth. She was blinded by her tears as she put her finger against the palm of Katarzyna’s star-like hand and felt the ache of profound love as those little fingers curled and tried to grasp.

She kissed the sweet wrinkled face, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her as she heard the fading heartbeat slow and become still. She held her baby to her heart and finally looked through her tears to the sobbing Peggy. ‘Our baby is with her father now,’ she whispered. ‘Please, I would like some moment alone with her.’

THE DEATH OF
tiny Katarzyna had affected them all, and during the following days, the people living at Beach View were faced with the reality of how tenuous the thread of life had become and vowed to do something about it.

Danuta was kept in hospital for a week. It should have been longer, but she defied everyone by discharging herself early, saying she had no business taking up a valuable bed when so many others were in greater need – and that she was determined to attend Katarzyna’s funeral and to see her laid to rest beside her uncle Aleksy in the tiny village churchyard outside Cliffehaven.

Matron hadn’t been happy about it, and it seemed to underline her opinion that Danuta was head-strong, and that being Polish could be the only excuse for her bad behaviour.

Danuta didn’t care what the old witch thought of her. Lying in bed during those long, empty nights, she had come to a decision, and once she was back at Beach View, she began to put together her plan for the future. It would be a very different future now Katarzyna was with her father – but one that would fulfil her need to serve this new country that had sheltered her, and to play her part in its victory against Hitler.

The physical and mental challenges Danuta had faced over the past year had made her strong and determined. She and Ron spent long hours walking the hills, and bit by bit, Danuta felt her strength returning, her muscles hardening again, and knew she was ready. It was two weeks before Christmas when Ron introduced her to his colleague and, after a gruelling session of questions and tests with him, she returned to Beach View to pack.

Peggy was in the kitchen as usual, busy trying to put together some strange concoction dreamed up by the Ministry of Food. Jim was reading the evening paper by the fire, Polly and Mrs Finch were knitting, and the other girls were upstairs listening to music on the gramophone.

‘Peggy, I have come to say that I will be leaving tomorrow,’ said Danuta.

‘But why? Where will you go? It’s almost Christmas.’ Peggy wiped her hands on her wrap-round apron, her expression concerned. ‘This is all a bit sudden, isn’t it?’

‘I have been offered a job at another hospital,’ Danuta lied smoothly. ‘It is a post as a theatre nurse. I must leave early tomorrow morning.’

‘But that’s marvellous,’ said Polly, standing to give her a hug. ‘Which hospital?’

‘The St George in London,’ Danuta replied, having
been
well briefed. ‘I know it is very dangerous there, but I have waited too long for my skills to be recognised, and I must go.’

Polly grinned at her. ‘I’m leaving too. Adam and I have decided to go to see Alice for Christmas,’ she said. ‘We had the most fearful row about it, because I don’t think he’s at all ready to travel, but my heart won over my head, and we leave at the weekend.’

‘It seems everyone is leaving,’ sighed Peggy. ‘Christmas just won’t be the same, what with Cissy on duty at the air base, Anne tucked away in her little cottage with Martin, who’s been forced to take a long rest, and my boys down in Somerset. I have half a mind to get on a train myself and go and see them.’

‘There’s nothing stopping you,’ muttered Jim from behind his newspaper. ‘If you can get the permits to travel, then go. Da and I will look after this place.’

Danuta saw the hope dawn on Peggy’s face, and understood her longing to be with her children.

‘What about Mrs Finch?’ Peggy was flustered now, the hope and doubts fighting a battle within.

‘To be sure, me and Da will look after her too, and I’m sure we’ll survive on her cooking for a week.’

‘Pies for pudding?’ twittered Mrs Finch, dropping her knitting and twiddling with her hearing aid. ‘What on earth are you talking about, you rogue?’

‘I said I’d put up with your cooking,’ he shouted.

‘How very rude,’ she said with a sniff. ‘My cooking is excellent. And there’s no need to shout, Jim Reilly. I’m not deaf, you know.’

Jim rolled his eyes and grinned before he turned his attention back to Peggy. ‘I’ll go to the office tomorrow and see what I can do. I’m sure they’ll let you go – it’s been almost a year since you’ve seen them.’

‘Could you come too?’

He shook his head. ‘I’d love to, Peg, me darlin’, but I’ve a cinema to run, warden and fire-watch duties to see to and Mrs Finch to fight with. You go and I promise to try and get to see them soon as I can.’

Danuta watched as Peggy excitedly clapped her hands and began to write a list of things she would have to do before she left. Danuta’s heart ached with the familiar longing that haunted her now – the longing to hold her baby again, and to celebrate the magic of life and hope, and the profound bond between mother and child.

She glanced at Polly, who looked radiant now she knew that she would be seeing her little Alice very soon. Leaving them to chatter and discuss their plans, Danuta went upstairs and quietly began to prepare for her own adventure.

Danuta went to say a last farewell to Katarzyna, sitting by the grassy mound of her last resting place, talking to her, telling her of her plans as the chill night closed in. When she returned to Beach View,
she
and Polly talked long into the night, both too excited to sleep.

As dawn finally came, Danuta silently left her bed and opened the curtains. The seagulls were already squabbling on the roof opposite, the salty scent of the sea coming through the open window as light threaded a stitch along the horizon and bronzed the clouds. It would rain before nightfall, but it didn’t matter. This new day heralded the start of her new life.

Excitement churned alongside nervousness as she dressed carefully for her long journey to Berkshire. Her case was packed and stood ready by the door, and although her clothes might be second-hand, they’d been carefully laundered and pressed, and she felt she looked very smart.

Polly woke some minutes later, and they went down to breakfast together. Talk was desultory round the table – goodbyes were always hard – and Danuta didn’t have the heart to let them see how excited she was about leaving.

The time came to walk to the station, and she gently declined Polly’s offer to accompany her. ‘I think it is best to say goodbye here,’ she said, softly. ‘Thank you for being my friend, Polly. I will never forget you.’ She gave her a hug and turned to Peggy.

‘Thank you,’ she said, taking her hand. ‘You have given me a home, and love and support through my dark time. Aleksy and I bless you for that.’ She had tears in her eyes as she gently kissed Mrs Finch. ‘Goodbye,
Babunia
. Stay well, and know that I love you.’

With a smile to Jim and Ron, she hitched the strap of her tattered canvas bag over her shoulder, picked up her case and gas-mask box, opened the door and purposefully closed it behind her. She didn’t know what lay ahead, but she would face it with courage, for her time at Beach View had shown her that there was love in the world still, and that enmity could be vanquished.

Danuta looked back as she reached the corner of Camden Road. Ron was standing on the doorstep, watching her. He was the only one who knew her true destination, and the dangers she would probably have to face, but her secret was safe with him.

He lifted his hand in salute, and she waved back before she turned away and headed fearlessly into her future.

Polly missed not having Danuta to talk to, and it was only after she’d gone that she realised she’d left no forwarding address so she could write to her. Then, she reasoned, she could always send her letters to St George’s; they would find her there.