Ruth was surprised that Sam wanted her to deal with this as usually a man handled this sort of thing. She was pleased that already he trusted her to act for him. Something belatedly occurred to her. ‘I don’t think I can act for you, now I think about it, a solicitor would need your signature and so on.’
‘Fair enough, I’ll consider doing it but not right now.’
‘I’ve got to go back to Binbrook to collect my kit and say my goodbyes. I do hope they haven’t already left. I’ve enjoyed being a part of a mixed artillery site but wonder if I’ll even be allowed to continue as part of the RA.’
‘Blimey, Ruth, they won’t want to let you go somewhere else. Your training as a kine operator as well as range finder, spotter and predictor makes you invaluable. As our invasion of France gets closer, more men will need to be released for service overseas so someone like you will be essential.’
‘The only thing I’ve not done is learn how to use the spotlights. Mind you, those girls are stationed in remote places and have to live in pretty dire conditions. I’m glad now that I didn’t opt for that.’
Their chat was interrupted by the arrival of the young doctor to plaster Sam’s broken ankle. Ruth left them to it and went in search of the promised tea. There was no sign of the student, so she guessed the girl had been called away.
A qualified nurse was walking briskly towards her. ‘Excuse me, nurse, is there a public call box near this hospital?’
‘Yes, Corp, just outside, but I wouldn’t recommend you going in the dark. If it’s urgent then you could always ask Sister if you could use her telephone.’
‘Thanks, my section is about to be transferred and if they leave before I can get back then heaven knows what will happen to my kit.’ Ruth didn’t correct the girl’s inaccurate use of the word corporal – being referred to as a bombardier when you were in a Royal Artillery battery was something civilians wouldn’t know about.
‘That sounds urgent to me. Always worth a try, Sister Daniels is okay, not like some I could mention.’ The nurse smiled and hurried off without indicating where Sister Daniels’ office was located.
Ruth was faced with a long, empty corridor with several closed doors. She thought for a moment and then decided if she found the ward then this sister might well have her office close by.
Light was filtering onto the shiny linoleum further down and it was the same direction that the helpful nurse had gone – this would be a good place to start and she hurried towards what was hopefully the ward she was looking for.
As she approached, a nurse in navy-blue uniform and immaculately starched sparkling white cap and apron emerged. She didn’t look particularly friendly, but Ruth had no option – if she wanted to use a telephone then she had to speak to someone.
‘Excuse me, I’m looking for Sister Daniels, I’m wondering if you might be her?’
‘No, I’m Sister Watson. It’s not visiting hours so what are you doing wandering about the hospital?’
This wasn’t an auspicious start, but Ruth decided to ask about the telephone anyway. She explained her predicament and expected to be told in no uncertain terms that only staff members could use the phone, but the reverse was true.
‘Come with me, Bombardier Cox, you can use mine. My son’s a sergeant in the RA and he told me that girls are serving alongside him. I’d never hear the last of it if I didn’t help. He’s stationed in London – maybe you’ll be posted there after your officer training.’
They’d now reached one of the closed doors and Sister Watson pushed it open and pointed proudly to the telephone sitting on her desk. ‘Just ask the operator to connect you. When you lift the receiver, the switchboard will answer immediately.’
‘Thank you, Sister, this is so kind of you.’
She was connected to HQ at Binbrook RA battery immediately. She asked to speak to an officer and told him the problem.
‘I’ve got a message here from someone further up the command chain that you won’t be rejoining your section but are going immediately for OT at Regent’s Park. I’ll arrange for your kit to be packed and sent on there. There’s no need for you to return here.’
‘Thank you, sir, that would be really helpful. Could you possibly tell me where our battery’s being posted? I’ve made some good friends in my section and would like to be able to keep in touch.’
‘They’re going to Liverpool. If you have the service numbers of your friends then, as you know, you can contact them by mail easily enough.’
This was more or less a reprimand for asking an unnecessary question. ‘I shall do that, sir, thank you again.’ She put down the receiver thoughtfully, not sure if she was relieved or sad not to have been able to speak to Jill in person and tell her that the authorities knew about Arthur.
She almost collided with the friendly nurse she’d spoken to earlier. ‘Golly, you were brave. Did Sister Watson allow you to use her telephone? She’s a bit of a tartar and guards it like a lioness with her cub.’
‘Yes, and she was very accommodating. I think it’s because her son is in a mixed artillery battery, as am I. Everything’s been arranged perfectly, thank you.’
‘Actually, I was coming to find you as I’ve taken a tray of tea and biscuits to your handsome fiancé. The plastering’s finished and he just has to wait for it to harden and then you’ll be taken to a side room where you can stay for the night.’
* * *
Ruth wasn’t allowed to wheel Sam through the hospital – it was against regulations for some reason – so an unfortunate porter had been fetched and had to do it for them.
‘What a palaver, anyone would think you were someone important. You must have friends in high places. I never heard of no one being allowed to spend the night in one of them posh rooms before,’ the disgruntled man told them sourly.
Sam half-swivelled in the chair and fixed him with an icy look. ‘Who we are and who we know is none of your concern. We don’t require any comments from you.’
Ruth expected the porter to apologise but instead he released his hold on the wheelchair and stepped away.
‘Then you’ll find the bloody place on your own. I ain’t one of your squaddies to be bossed about.’
The bad-tempered man stomped away, leaving them marooned in a dimly lit corridor and with no idea where they were supposed to be.
‘Golly, that wasn’t a good idea, Sam. You should just have let it go, you don’t always have to step in like that,’ Ruth said, more sharply than she’d intended.
‘He’s a porter, he’s there to do a job and not pass judgement. This is obviously the more expensive part of the hospital where the wealthy are treated. We just have to look for an empty room and then we can use that,’ he said without apology for his part in this debacle.
‘That’s all very well for you to say. Are you suggesting that I knock on these doors, disturb anyone who’s inside, until we find a room we can use? I’m sorry, I’m not going to do that. There’s a general waiting room for the outpatients I noticed on the way in and we’ll just have to spend the night in there.’
They travelled the length of the hospital in uncomfortable silence. She was waiting for him to apologise, which he obviously wasn’t going to do. If he was waiting for her to do the same, then he was in for a long wait.
* * *
Sam wasn’t enjoying this perambulation down the freezing hospital corridors in a less than comfortable wheelchair. The strong pain medication he’d been given hadn’t kicked in and it was making him bad-tempered.
He just wanted to be lying flat on a bed somewhere and he really didn’t care where that was. What had Ruth just said? His mind was beginning to blur, his concentration slipping but she must have made some sort of reply but wasn’t sure what they’d been talking about.
He closed his eyes and let the morphine do its job. From a distance, he heard voices – one of them he thought was Ruth’s, but he didn’t know who the other person was – and then more trundling.
To his immense relief, some kind souls lifted him from his wheelchair and put him onto a bed. As soon as his leg was supported, covers were put over him, and he was deeply asleep.
* * *
His eyes were sticky, his throat dry and his head was pounding when he woke up the next day. For a moment he was disorientated and then he dredged up the information he needed and immediately looked around for Ruth.
The room was pleasantly warm, containing only his bed, an armchair and a chest of drawers. Where the hell had Ruth slept whilst he’d been comfortable on the bed? He pushed himself upright and swung his legs to the floor.
His broken ankle no longer hurt and there were crutches leaning against the bed ready for him to use. His first venture must be to the bog. He considered himself an expert and had no difficulty reaching the door, although opening it was a little more difficult.
He saw a student nurse hurrying towards him. ‘I need the WC.’
‘It’s the door opposite, Sergeant, and it’s unoccupied. Do you need any help?’
‘No, ta, I’ll manage.’
He heard her laughing as she vanished around the corner. He was in luck because there was a sink with a mirror and he sluiced his face with cold water and washed his hands; that cleared his head a little. He ran his hand over his bristly chin and knew he needed to shave but the thought of trying to find his wash bag in his kitbag didn’t appeal to him.
He’d returned to the room and settled on the bed when Ruth came in carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two mugs and what looked like a pile of freshly made toast.
‘I was worried about you, love, I woke up and you weren’t here.’
‘I was fetching us some breakfast. You look like a pirate and your uniform’s horribly crumpled.’ She said this without her usual sunny smile and for a moment he was puzzled. Then he remembered that he’d had a blissful night’s sleep whilst she’d had to spend it in an armchair. This would make her a bit tetchy.
‘I appreciate you looking after me. I’m gasping for a cuppa, my throat’s like the bottom of a parrot cage.’
‘Well, Sergeant Johnson, that will never do. If your throat’s that dry, can you manage the toast?’
‘Just try me, I can smell the melting butter from here.’
‘No butter, I’m afraid, Sam, just margarine and jam. The nurses have been so kind and made this for us.’
He happily munched his way through four slices of toast and drank two mugs of tea and was a new man.
‘I’m sorry you had to sleep on the chair, love, you could have shared the bed with me. Nobody would have been any the wiser.’
‘I was perfectly comfortable in the chair. Look, I’ve been arranging things for you as I really don’t think even with me helping that we could get you safely to St Albans. I managed to get hold of Clara and we’ve pulled some strings and arranged a car.’
‘Crikey, that’s impressive. When will it be collecting us?’
She looked away and then back and he finally understood that something had changed between them but he had no idea what it was or why it had happened.
‘I won’t be going with you, Sam, I’m catching the train to London as my OCTU is taking place near Regent’s Park. I really can’t go to St Albans without my kit – I hope you understand.’
He didn’t – but he supposed what she said made sense. After all, she only had an overnight bag with her.
‘Fair enough. I would have liked you to meet my parents but that can wait. I haven’t given you a ring and I’d hoped we could choose one together. Until then, I won’t feel that we’re properly engaged.’
He waited for her to smile, hug him and say that a ring didn’t matter, that she loved him, but she didn’t. He didn’t know a lot about women – she was his first real girlfriend – but he’d spent enough time with blokes to know when you shouldn’t let things drift.
‘What’s wrong? Have I done something to upset you? Have you changed your mind about wanting to marry me?’
She didn’t answer and his heart sank.
‘Come on, Ruth, you can’t have been in love with me yesterday and not today. Something’s happened and you owe it to me to tell me. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I woke up. I deserve an explanation, don’t you think?’
‘I am having second thoughts. We don’t really know each other very well and I think we’re moving too fast.’
‘For God’s sake, what are you talking about?’
‘You bullied the porter and made him abandon us. You were rude to me and then you didn’t apologise.’
Sam was stunned by her outburst. ‘I was in a lot of pain, which made me bad-tempered. I’d no idea I was rude to you, and I couldn’t apologise because the drugs knocked me out. I barely remember any of it and certainly not how I arrived here.’
He stared at her, not letting her look away. ‘Do you honestly think I’d have let you sleep on a chair when I was lying in comfort if I’d known? You really don’t know me and I obviously don’t know you as well as I thought. Unlike you, that just makes me more determined to get to know you, not want to cut and run.’
‘I see, I think I’ve overreacted. I was upset last night and it didn’t occur to me there was a perfectly acceptable explanation. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry too, love. I’m proud that you want to become an officer and that doesn’t make me feel in any way inferior.’ He paused and something occurred to him that she hadn’t asked and he’d never volunteered.
‘I might not have my higher school certificate like you, but the army still thought I was intelligent enough to train to do exactly the job that you do. I could become an officer if I wanted to, but I prefer to be with ordinary people. Far too often, in my opinion, officers are appointed because of their social status, not their ability.’
This was the longest speech he’d ever made to her and she was looking at him differently, as if realising that he wasn’t the man she thought him to be. The fact that he was – could be – on a par with her didn’t seem to help for some reason. Had she wanted to marry him because she thought that being illegitimate made her unsuitable for someone better?
No sooner had he thought this than he swallowed a bitter taste. They’d both been swept along by some nonsense, love if you like, and ignored the reality. She would always consider herself a cut above him and he would always be apologising for something.
Finally, she smiled at him in the way she had before this misunderstanding. He had a nasty feeling too much had been said that couldn’t be retracted and the damage to their relationship couldn’t be mended.
‘I’m sorry, love, but neither of us would have said the things we have if we didn’t have doubts about this engagement. I do love you, doubt I’ll ever feel the same way about anyone else, but you’re right to want to end things…’
Her eyes widened and she flung herself into his arms. They closed of their own volition. He held her close as she sobbed against his shoulder. After a while, she began to recover, gulping and sniffing, then sat back and rummaged in her pocket for a clean handkerchief. After blowing her nose and wiping her face, she stepped away, her eyes were sad and he knew what she was going to say next.
‘I think that I love you too, Sam, but I hadn’t even considered ending things between us until you mentioned it. It breaks my heart, but I think maybe you’re right. Let’s not be engaged, we’ve not told anybody so that won’t be a problem or an embarrassment for either of us. I still want to go out with you, will write to you every week as before. If, when you’re fit for duty, you still want to meet up in London then we’ll do that.’
He’d been about to blurt out that nothing would really change his mind, that despite what he’d said she was the one for him, but pride made him keep this information to himself.
‘That sounds tickety-boo. If after your officer training you want to meet up then I’d be happy to and see how things go.’
What he wanted to do was kiss her, show her that they were meant to be together, but he’d missed his chance. Now he had to let her go and pray she didn’t meet a toffee-nosed officer and decide that she’d rather be with him than an ordinary bloke like Sam.
He was able to continue a conversation about nothing much whilst hiding his misery. He’d known all along that Ruth was too good for him, but he loved her so much that he wasn’t going to tie her down to an engagement she wasn’t convinced was best for her. It was a relief when she gathered up the dirty crockery and dashed off with the tray.
Thank God he hadn’t told his parents about her – he’d not even mentioned her in his occasional letters. A porter arrived with a wheelchair to take him out to the car.
‘I’m waiting to say goodbye to my girlfriend, I’m sure she won’t be long.’
‘The driver said if you don’t come immediately, she won’t wait, Sarge,’ the porter said.
‘In which case, I’m ready to go. If you’d be kind enough to dump my bag in my lap, I reckon I can hold it okay until we reach the car.’
He glanced back several times, hoping Ruth would appear, but she didn’t. The ATS driver helped him into the front seat and then jammed his kitbag between his legs.
‘I can’t have you in the back, sorry, Sarge. I know it’ll be a bit uncomfortable but better than being put on a charge. I’m taking you to Cambridge and then hopefully there’ll be another lift waiting to take you to St Albans.’
She slammed his door, ran around the bonnet and jumped into her own seat. His throat was thick, his eyes damp, but he was determined not to show how devastated he was by this unexpected turn of events.