Until We Meet Again (10 page)

‘My studies will still be there when…when everything is over,’ replied Tilly, ‘Just as they will be for Tommy and Dominic, always supposing, of course, that any of us should want to go back to them. There are far more important matters at stake, though, at the moment, rather than playing the piano or reading Shakespeare and Dickens. And I didn’t get round to making an application to a music college as I really should have done by now. That’s because the nursing idea has been on my mind for quite a while.’

‘But will they allow you to leave school now?’ asked Faith.

‘I can’t see that they will have any say in the matter,’ replied Tilly. ‘A few girls have already left early. My fees are paid till the end of term, aren’t they? I would be leaving then in any case. Instead I shall be leaving now. I won’t be taking my final exams, that’s all. And that’s rather a relief,’ she added with a smile.

‘Good lass,’ said William, who had been silent until now. He nodded approvingly. ‘I think it’s a brave decision, and the right one, too. You can be sure your mother and I won’t stand in your way, will we Faith, my dear?’

‘No…I suppose not,’ said Faith resignedly. Tilly 
knew intuitively the thoughts that were running through her mother’s mind. She had already seen Samuel, and now Tommy go off to the war.

‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ she said. ‘But I feel that this is something I must do. We can’t leave it all to the men, and I don’t have a family to look after like Hetty and Maddy and Jessie, do I?’

‘And I feel sometimes that I ought to be doing something rather more important than knitting socks for soldiers,’ said Hetty, and the other two young women nodded in agreement.

‘But do you think that nursing would be the right career for you, dear?’ asked Faith. ‘I mean… might you not be rather squeamish about such things as…blood and operations and – well – all kinds of things? Some of the soldiers are coming back with terrible injuries – so we have heard, haven’t we? – and I assume that is what you want to do, eventually, to care for them?’

‘That’s something I won’t really know, Mother, until I’ve experienced it,’ replied Tilly calmly. ‘Yes…I have thought about all sorts of things, but it’s possible that I’m a good deal tougher than I look; physically and mentally as well. I’ve led quite a cushioned life until now, haven’t I? I’ve never been put to the test. Well, maybe now it’s the time.’

‘So…what are you going to do about it?’ asked
Faith. It was clear that she didn’t wholeheartedly approve, but she would concede to her daughter’s wishes, seeing that she was so resolute about her intention. ‘Will you apply to the hospital here in Scarborough? Then maybe you would be able to live at home?’

‘No, I don’t think so, Mother. That might not be a good idea,’ Tilly told her. ‘I think trainee nurses are expected to live in the nurses’ quarters at the hospital. I think I shall apply to St Luke’s hospital in Bradford. That’s not too far away, is it? And I’ve heard of its good reputation. That’s the one I shall apply to first.’

‘And I should imagine they’ll be only too pleased to accept you,’ said William. ‘The way things are going, over in France, the hospitals will be needing all the manpower – and womenpower, of course! – that they can muster.’ He stopped abruptly, aware of the silence and the air of tension in the room as he spoke. Now was not the time to be dwelling on the horrific casualties generated by this devastating war.

In fact, little more was said at all that morning. The little gathering broke up when William returned to the yard, taking Hetty along with him to be home in time for Angela’s dinner; and Jessie and Gregory also said their goodbyes. Faith found herself alone in the early afternoon. She and Tilly,
with Maddy and Amy, had eaten the sandwich lunch that Mrs Baker had prepared, although the women had not felt like eating a great deal. Then Maddy and her daughter had gone into town to do a little shopping, and Tilly had gone out as well. She did not say where she was going but Faith understood that she might want to be on her own for a while.

Now Faith was by herself and the house felt empty after their departure. Empty, that was, apart from Mrs Baker, who kept herself to herself most of the time. Faith was glad she was not the garrulous sort of housekeeper who followed one around, anxious to report items of chitchat about her family or the neighbours; there were many such women, so Faith had heard. Mrs Baker was a real gem; courteous and respectful but a good friend in times of need. Faith knew that she, also, had been sad to see the two young men go off to the war, especially Tommy, whom she had known since he was a small boy. She had exchanged a few appropriate words with them all when they returned from the station, making a cheering pot of tea without needing to be asked, and then retreating to the background.

Faith was relieved to be on her own for a while. She felt sad and in need of consolation, but she knew that William would give her all the comfort
and support she would need in the coming weeks and months. Years, maybe…? She shuddered at the thought but the reality of the situation could not be overlooked. The war news was grim and there seemed no possibility of an early end to the conflict.

All the men of the family had gone now, apart from Arthur Newsome, Jessie’s husband, who had been very annoyed and humiliated to be rejected on account of his eyesight. Freddie Nicholls and Bertram Lucas had been the first to go, then her own son, Samuel. She had been partially estranged from him since her marriage to William, but, when all was said and done, he was her elder son, her first-born child and as such would always have a special place in her heart, whatever his faults might be. And now it was the turn of her younger son, Tommy, and his best friend, Dominic, who was almost like one of the family. And probably would be in due course…when it was all over.

The news that Tilly, also, would soon be leaving had come as more of a blow to her than she had let on to the others. Soon there would be only William and herself in the large house, apart from Mrs Baker. Maddy and Amy – and Freddie when he came home on leave – were only there temporarily, although she had been glad of their company.

Myriad thoughts were passing through Faith’s mind. The house was far too large for them now, with the family married or gone elsewhere. And a comment that Hetty had made had struck her forcibly, too. She had remarked that she felt she ought to be doing something worthwhile, and the others had agreed with her. They were all knitting socks and scarves but that could be regarded as just a sop to the conscience, a nice comfortable way of doing one’s bit.

Tilly, however, was showing great initiative, and Faith realised, now that the first shock was abating, that she was very proud of her daughter. And she was determined that she, too, would make more of a worthwhile contribution to the war effort. It was not vital that she should keep on working at Moon’s Modes; sales were declining as more and more women were thinking it unnecessary – frivolous, in fact – to spend money on new clothes when there were far more important matters at stake. Muriel Phipps would be able to manage very ably as manageress, with her one assistant.

What had really started Faith thinking was when the house next door to their own – a large detached one in a similar, but not identical, style – had become vacant. At one time it had been a family home, but all the children had married and moved away until only Mr and Mrs Whittaker 
remained. The elderly couple had both died earlier that year within two months of one another, and the ‘For sale’ notice had appeared in the garden two weeks ago.

Faith had wondered whether it might be requisitioned for use by the government or the army, but so far nothing seemed to have happened. It was rundown; it would need a good deal of decorating and possibly structural work, but that would receive priority attention, surely, she thought to herself, if it were to be used as a nursing home for wounded servicemen, those who had spent some time in hospital and needed somewhere to recuperate before going home or, in some cases she feared, return to the conflict. There were already one or two in Scarborough, and the wounded soldiers, in their royal blue clothing, were becoming a familiar sight in the town.

That was the idea that had taken root in Faith’s mind, and now she found that her thoughts were developing thick and fast, one upon the other. All that separated the two houses was a privet hedge. It would be simple enough to build a passage to link the two buildings, at the back, near to the kitchen premises. There were five bedrooms in each of the houses, plus the attics, and they both had two spacious reception rooms downstairs as well as a morning room, a large working kitchen,
larder and cloakroom. One room would still be needed for family requirements – they would not need both a lounge and a large dining room as they had at the moment – but the other downstairs rooms would hold three or even four single beds quite comfortably.

Hetty, Maddy, Jessie…she was sure they would be willing to act as auxiliary workers, whereas Tilly would eventually be a fully trained nurse. How long would that take? she wondered. A year? Or more than that?

She realised that she was looking too far ahead. In the meantime they would need to advertise for trained nurses and nursing sisters, and a matron to be in overall charge of the nursing staff. Faith, herself, had no experience in caring for the sick or wounded, but she saw herself as an administrator, in charge of the staffing, bookkeeping and wages. Her work in the family store over the last few years meant that she was well qualified to undertake such a position.

She was sure that Mrs Baker, with a little extra help, would be willing to take care of the catering arrangements…

First things first, though. How did one go about setting such a scheme in motion? A government grant, maybe, or help from the local council? She was sure that William would know what to do.
She would tell him of her plans that evening; so far he didn’t have an inkling of what was in her mind. William was quite an important businessman in the town. He would know just what to do to get everything started.

Chapter Ten

T
illy wasted no time in applying for training at St Luke’s hospital in Bradford. Within a month she had had an interview and been accepted as a trainee nurse. It was the first time she had been away from home for any length of time, not counting holidays, but she soon found there was little time to be homesick.

St Luke’s was now a war hospital and trains full of battle casualties arriving at the Bradford railway stations had become all too common a sight in the city. Many of the wounded had already spent time in field hospitals. Some, alas, had died there; others who needed further treatment and could withstand the journey were sent back to the hospitals in Britain. Many had lost arms and legs or had sustained gunshot wounds, in some cases requiring plastic surgery to rebuild a face that had
been partially shot away; others were suffering from the effects of chlorine gas, which caused respiratory and digestive problems. And for some it was the mind as well as the body that had been affected by the continual bombardment in the trenches; the noise of the guns and the exploding shells from which they could never escape.

The sights she had to see were far more dreadful than Tilly had imagined. She had tried to prepare herself mentally for the sight of blood, for gaping or gangrenous wounds oozing blood and pus, amputated limbs, and faces so damaged they were scarcely recognisable, but the reality of it all was worse than anything the mind could have supposed. There were times when she was physically sick, when her stomach reacted to the horrific sights she was seeing. Times, even, when she felt sure she would not be able to continue. But she knew that she must. Every young soldier whose wounds she dressed or who she comforted in the night when he cried out in loneliness and anguish, reminded her of Dominic and Tommy. When she tended to the needs of these unknown young men, it was as though she was doing it for her beloved Dominic or her brother.

Fortunately the sister on the first ward was an understanding sort of woman, not an old battleaxe as many of them were reputed to be.
Agnes Berryman had not long been promoted to the position of sister and had not let her advancement go to her head as some did. And it was comforting to Tilly to know that she was not alone in her feelings of revulsion and horror that overcame her from time to time.

She had very quickly made friends with a girl a year older than herself whose name was Sophie Ashton. They were in the same dormitory in the hostel and were pleased when they were placed on the same ward. Sophie was a Bradford girl whose family owned a pork butcher’s and delicatessen shop on Manningham Lane, quite near to the city centre. Like Tilly, she had given up her studies to train as a nurse. She had one brother, Steve, who had joined the army as soon as he was old enough and was now serving at the Front.

‘I tell myself that it might well be Steve,’ she said to Tilly. ‘That’s what gets me through when I feel like giving up. I’d want a nice young nurse to be kind to my brother, wouldn’t I, if he was injured and scared out of his wits? Poor lads! Some of ’em look as though they should still be at school, don’t they? I wonder how many have lied about their age. Our Steve was all for going when he was seventeen but my parents made him wait until he was eighteen. Then he was off the very next day. He joined the Bradford
Pals, him and several of his mates.’

Tilly had heard of them before and of similar ‘pals’ from other towns in the north of England. The Bradford branch of the Citizen’s Army League had been formed by prominent local dignitaries, following the appeal by Lord Kitchener for a new force to fight in the war. The sponsors raised the money to clothe, feed and train the men, and pay their wages until they could be absorbed into the county regiments. These Bradford Pals were now part of the 16th and 18th battalions of the West Yorkshire Regiment.

Tilly learnt a good deal about her new friend’s family history as they sat together of an evening over a cup of cocoa, enjoying a short respite from their duties in the ward.

‘My parents were loath to let Steve join up at all,’ she told Tilly. ‘You see, our family came originally from Germany, as did a lot of families in Bradford. Our name was Ascher; in fact it was only at the start of the war that my father decided it might be wise to change it to Ashton. Steve’s proper name is Stefan, and my father was Karl, but now he calls himself Charlie. But I’m still Sophie; that’s the same in both countries, isn’t it?’

Sophie was a real chatterbox, a very even-tempered, friendly girl who was quickly becoming a favourite with the men on the ward. Tilly, who
was rather more reserved by nature, admired her friend’s cheerfulness and her easy manner with the patients. Tilly, at first, had found it more difficult to build up a rapport with the men, but it was getting easier day by day as she gained their confidence.

Looking at Sophie, it was not hard to guess that she came from German stock. She had flaxen hair which she wore in a thick plait when it was not hidden beneath her cap, and the bluest of blue eyes. She was of a stocky build with somewhat heavy features, but very attractive for all that, almost beautiful when one saw her radiant smile.

‘You see…my parents are naturalised British subjects,’ she said, ‘just as Steve and I are. But I suppose a part of them still thinks of themselves as German, although we’re the fourth generation now, Steve and me. It was my great-grandfather Ascher and his family who moved here, so we’ve been told, in the middle of the last century. They started up the business that we’ve still got today. I don’t remember them, of course, but I do remember my Grandfather and Grandmother Ascher. Olga and Johann, they were called. They both died just before the war started. Perhaps it was just as well, the way things have turned out.’

‘You mean they wouldn’t have agreed with you changing your name?’ asked Tilly.

‘That’s right. They wouldn’t have liked that at all. I think Grandfather would be turning in his grave if he knew. And if he knew that Steve had joined the British army! Goodness, I dread to imagine what he would have thought about that!’

‘Yes, I can see it must be quite a problem for some of the German families living here,’ Tilly remarked. ‘I didn’t know a great deal about it – well, hardly anything – until you told me. But you and your brother…you think of yourselves as being British citizens now, do you?’ she enquired tentatively. ‘Well, I suppose you must do, or Steve wouldn’t have joined the army.’

‘Yes, that’s right; so we do,’ replied Sophie. ‘Several of the Bradford Pals are from German families. Steve’s best friend, Harry Brown, who joined up with him, his name was Harald Braun, but the family changed it, like we did. Obviously my mother and father have mixed feelings about it all, but this is our country now and this is our town. As I said, we’re a fourth generation Bradford family now, and I’m very proud of it.’

She went on to tell her friend, though, that for some families the question was not so clear cut. Those who had not been living in the country as long, whose residency had not been made official, had been forced to register with the police under the Aliens Act and their activities and movements
were restricted. If they were – rightly or wrongly – suspected of espionage, they were arrested and if unlucky were detained in Bradford Moor barracks, which was doubling as a military prison.

Indeed, many of the young men who were reservists in the German army had left Bradford to rejoin their regiments, which was only what was expected of them. A good number of them, however, were detained as prisoners of war whilst waiting for a boat to take them across the channel.

‘But I’m sure some of them must have made it over to France,’ said Sophie. ‘And that means they may well have ended up fighting the lads they went to school with. I haven’t heard of any myself, but it’s by no means impossible, is it?’

‘Yes, war is dreadful, especially being forced to fight when you don’t really want to,’ agreed Tilly. ‘And I’m sure the German soldiers don’t want to fight any more than our lads do. Well, not all of them; some will have trained for it, of course. My brother and Dominic, they were both in the training corps at school and that’s the reason they joined up. I wonder now if they regret ever having been a part of it… What about your brother? Do you hear from him quite often?’

‘He writes to my parents, and I read the letters. He doesn’t say much about the fighting, but then
I wouldn’t expect him to. There’s no point in worrying us all any more than is necessary. I guess he’s trying to be cheerful; he says he misses my mam’s cooking, and that’s about all. Our Steve’s not much of a letter writer. But I get letters from his friend, Harry.’ Sophie smiled. ‘Harry wanted me to go steady with him before he joined the army but I said no. I’d been out with him a few times, just as friends, but I didn’t want to get more serious. Besides, he’s a year younger than me and I don’t really think of him in that way…but I promised I’d write to him. I miss him though, like I miss Steve.’

‘I hadn’t thought of Dominic in that way, either,’ said Tilly, ‘until we started going out together. And then it all changed; he was not at all like I imagined he would be. I feel now as though there will never be anyone else for me but Dominic.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘He’s still training at the camp in Staffordshire with Tommy, but he wants us to get engaged before he goes overseas.’

‘And is that what you want as well?’ asked Sophie. She looked surprised.

‘Yes,’ replied Tilly without hesitation. ‘I feel I want to make a commitment to him before he goes abroad. It will be something for both of us to cling to; even though we’re apart to know that we belong together…’ She stopped, feeling a little
embarrassed, aware that her cheeks were turning pink.

‘You’re both very young,’ said Sophie, with all the wisdom of her nineteen years. ‘Would you have become engaged if there had been no war, if Dominic were still here?’

‘Who knows?’ said Tilly. ‘I can only look at things as they are now. You’re probably right, though. We were both still at school and our parents would have been horrified at the thought of anything interrupting our studies; Dominic’s parents more so than mine, I should imagine. They had high aspirations for him.’

‘What did he intend to do before he met you, before the war and everything?’

‘Oh, Dominic wanted to make his mark in the literary world. I expect he still does, deep down. To be a second Thomas Hardy.’ She smiled. ‘He would probably have trained to be a teacher or a lecturer in the meantime. But it’s all been put to one side like everything else. I would never have dreamt of being a nurse, under normal conditions.’

‘No, neither would I,’ agreed Sophie. ‘I was all set to go to university to study to be a teacher or lecturer – like your Dominic – a teacher of German though. It’s my second language – I speak it quite fluently – although we speak English now
at home. My grandparents, though, they were inclined to stick to their native tongue. Anyway, it suddenly seemed to be not a very good idea to be a lecturer in German.’ She smiled wryly. ‘And probably when the war ends attitudes will be the same.’

‘Most likely,’ agreed Tilly. ‘There was a lot of anti-German feeling in Scarborough after the attack from the sea. That was what started all the menfolk in our family enlisting… I don’t think Dominic’s parents were too keen on the idea of us being friendly at first,’ she continued. ‘There was the stigma of my mother having been divorced. But their attitude seems to have changed now. The war has done a lot to change the way people look at things. I went to see them before I started here, and Mrs Fraser actually kissed me and wished me well. I think they know that Dominic means a lot to me, as he does to them. It must be dreadful for them, the thought of their only son – their only child, in fact – going off to fight. I shouldn’t think they will object to us being engaged. Well, they can’t, can they? And if they do it will make no difference. It’s just a promise, isn’t it? A pledge that we love one another and that we will get married…one day.’

One day… Those words were on the lips of thousands of others as well as Tilly’s; thousands
upon thousands of people who had had their lives turned around and who knew, whatever the outcome, that things would never be the same again. None more so than the many families, like the Ashtons, who had so eagerly made lives for themselves in a new country. Tilly learnt more about them from her friend, Sophie.

She realised when she visited the family at their home on Manningham Lane that this was an upper middle-class family similar to her own, inasmuch as they made their living by giving a service to the community. They lived above the pork butcher’s and delicatessen shop in spacious premises, not unlike the ones that Patrick and Katy Moon now lived in above the undertakers’ office and showroom.

It was an afternoon in August when Sophie took her new friend home to meet her family, both of them having been on the night shift at the hospital. The shop window was a delight to the eye, and to the nose as well if one liked the spicy aromas of cured ham, sausages and sauerkraut. There were numerous varieties of sausage – or
wurst
– hanging in links or displayed on trays. As well as the pink pork sausages most familiar to the English palate, there were Frankfurters;
Weisswurst
(veal sausages flecked with parsley); smaller
Bratwurst
, popular originally in the
Nuremberg area; and the extra long strings of
Bochwurst
, which originated in Berlin. There was tender pink pork, cut into leg joints or chops; roast pork – or
schweinbraten
– covered with a succulent brown crackling; cured pork as well in several varieties of ham and bacon. Cheeses of several kinds; hors d’ouvres dishes – various sorts of sauerkraut, olives, herring in sour cream sauce, salads and noodles… And bread –
brot
– in all shapes and sizes; dark brown rye bread, pumpernickel, pretzels, sunflower seeds rolls, as well as the more traditional loaves.