I wrote to Violet’s children the next day, sitting in the staffroom at work watching out of the window as porters put new beds into the huts they’d built in the grounds of the hospital.
‘Your mother was worried you’d wonder why she wasn’t writing, so I wanted to let you know she is all right. I’ll write again when I know where she is and you can send her all your news,’ I wrote.
I checked my watch. I had a while before my shift began; I’d come to work early in an attempt to avoid Jackson. I didn’t want to be rude to him, but I didn’t want to see him either.
I put the letter into an envelope and sealed it, then I wrote the address on the front, checking it carefully to make sure I’d not spelled the unfamiliar Welsh words wrong. I intended to post it on my way home, so I put it into my locker for now. Then, still with time to kill, I wandered over to the window, watching the activity below. The new huts would give us another two wards, judging by the size of them. I wondered if we’d get more nurses to cover them, or if we’d all be spread even thinner.
‘They’re for soldiers,’ said a voice behind me. I turned to see Nelly, her cheeks flushed.
‘Where have you been, Nell?’ I’d not seen her since yesterday. I gave her a good-natured shove. ‘I was worried.’
‘Were you?’ She clutched her chest dramatically. ‘Sure that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’
I made a face. ‘Well, maybe not worried. Interested.’
Nelly stuck her tongue out at me. And I laughed, pretending to think. ‘Actually, interested is a bit strong. Mildly distracted maybe.’
‘So you don’t want to know where I was?’
I feigned indifference for about three seconds, then caved. ‘Well of course I do,’ I said, clutching her arm. ‘Were you with Dr Barnet?’
‘I was,’ she said. ‘He’s a dream.’
‘He’s a rat.’
‘I’m not marrying the fella. He’s just a bit of fun.’
‘Really?’ I said doubtfully, because the look in her eyes told me otherwise.
‘He says he’s never met anyone like me before.’
‘Since the last girl.’
She prodded me. ‘Ah stop it, will you? He’s a good man.’
‘With a terrible reputation.’
Nelly rolled her eyes. ‘He gave me a book.’
‘A book?’
‘Of poems.’ She looked triumphant. ‘Love poems.’
‘Bleurgh.’
‘You have a heart of stone, Elsie Watson.’
‘Is he coming to the dance?’
‘He’s swapped his shift,’ she said in triumph. ‘Because of me.’
I was a bit disappointed because I wanted to have fun with Nelly at the dance, not spend the whole night feeling like a gooseberry, but I didn’t say anything because movement down below caught my eye. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘They’re taking in the bedclothes. The patients must be arriving soon.’
‘Already? Can you see them? Are they soldiers?’
I laughed at her eager expression. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be swooning over Dr Barnet?’
‘Hedging my bets,’ she said, shoving me out of the way so she could see out of the window.
‘Nurse Watson and Nurse Malone?’
We both stood to attention as Matron appeared in the doorway. ‘Nice to see you here so early. Do you have some time before your shifts begin?’
‘We do,’ I said, nodding.
‘Then could you go down to the huts please? The patients are arriving and the beds aren’t yet made. It’s all hands on deck to get things ready.’
‘Of course,’ I said as Nelly added: ‘Absolutely.’
‘Thank you.’ She gave us both a small smile as we passed her in the doorway. ‘Airmen,’ she said. ‘There was a bomb at Biggin Hill.’
‘Lord, was it bad?’
Matron nodded. ‘Quite a few killed as far as I know. We mostly have the walking wounded though.’
I felt dizzy for a second thinking about the loss of those lives. Men cut down before they even got started living. I steadied myself on the doorframe and Nelly, bless her, obviously realising how I felt, took my arm and hurried me down the corridor.
‘Airmen,’ she said, as we went, fanning herself with her hand.
‘Nelly Malone, you are incorrigible.’ But I was laughing. I was so grateful to her for being there and letting me lean on her – physically and mentally.
‘They’ll be fun to have around.’
‘They’re injured, Nelly.’
‘Ah didn’t Matron say they were the walking wounded? They’ll be up for some fun, I’ve no doubt.’
She was right. The airmen were arriving as we were making the beds, tossing pillows and sheets to each other in well-practised fashion. They were battered and bruised, there was no doubt. I heard someone say they’d been dug out from under the rubble and it was clear they’d been through the wringer. Some of them were on crutches, some had broken limbs – quite a few had both arms broken. A few were quiet and still, lying on trolleys outside the hut while they waited for their beds to be ready. They were accompanied by a handful of Red Cross nurses who were efficient and jolly and who, they assured us, would be looking after this bit of the hospital.
As Nelly had predicted, most of the patients were in good spirits. Shouting support as we threw bundles of bedding to each other and spread sheets smooth, and making cheeky comments whenever one of us bent over.
‘We’ll have none of that, thank you,’ said one of the Red Cross nurses firmly, removing a wandering hand from her behind. ‘You behave as though we were all your mothers or your sisters, or we’ll turf you out on the streets and see how well you fare left to your own devices.’
‘Sorry,’ the airman muttered, looking suitably chastened. I felt a bit sorry for him. He was so young, and one side of his face was in shreds – bandaged but clearly causing him a lot of pain.
‘Here, your bed’s ready,’ I said, pulling back the sheets and helping him up. The whole side of his body was bandaged but I could see blood seeping through. I caught the eye of the Red Cross matron and she gave me a little nod to show she knew.
‘Thanks, Nurse,’ the airman said. I plumped up the pillow behind him and resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. These lads had given so much. Just like my Billy. And they may have been in good spirits now, giddy with the adrenaline of being survivors. But I knew that when darkness fell the nightmares would come. Or the guilt of having made it out alive when so many others – so many of their friends – hadn’t. So I didn’t hug the lad, but I smiled at him and he smiled back.
‘Did you write to those kids?’ Nelly asked me as we moved on to making up the next bed.
‘I did. I’ll post it on the way home tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s a good thing you’ve done there,’ she said, shaking out a sheet and deftly folding it under the end of the bed. ‘Getting that message will mean so much to them.’
‘Did you send someone a message?’ asked the cheeky airman. ‘Could you send one for me?’
‘You can send your own, you lazy oaf,’ I said.
‘I can’t,’ another airman said. He was being helped into bed by one of the Red Cross nurses. He had both arms in plaster and one leg was bandaged too. ‘Is that what you do? You write messages for people?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I did it for one patient who needed to let her kids know where she was.’
‘But you could do it for me?’ he said. ‘Just a quick note for my mum? They’ll have told her about the bomb and she’ll be so worried.’ He had a nice face, this chap. Warm and friendly, with furrows between his brows. ‘My uncle was killed, you see? Her brother. Last time round. She’ll be thinking the worst.’
I felt myself soften at the thought of his poor mother worrying, so I checked my watch. ‘I can’t do it now because my shift is about to start,’ I said. ‘But you’ll be here a while, I assume? I’ll come back and you can tell me what to write.’
‘Would you really?’ He gave me a beaming smile that made my stomach turn over in a rather pleasing way. ‘Promise?’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Harry.’
‘I promise, Harry.’
‘What about me?’ Across the hut, another man was looking concerned. ‘Could I write something?’
‘Well, of course you can. That’s nothing to do with me,’ I said. He was one of the less injured men, with just cuts and bruises as far as I could see.
‘I know. But I’ll be going back before I know it, won’t I?’
‘And?’
‘And when the bomb hit, I thought about all the stuff I’d not said. All the things I wanted to tell my wife, and my dad. Even my sister. I had so much I wanted to say to her. I just thought maybe I could write it down for you and I don’t know, perhaps you could keep it safe. Just in case …’ He rubbed his nose. ‘Nah forget it. I’m just being sentimental, that’s all.’
I sat down on the edge of the cheeky airman’s bed, clutching a bundle of sheets. Nearby Nelly stood, watching me carefully. ‘No, you’re not,’ I said in a slightly shaky voice. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea.’
Suddenly there was a clamour of voices.
‘My house was bombed and I don’t know where my wife is. Can you get a message to her?’
‘I want to write down what happened before I forget everything. For my kids to read later.’
‘Can you get a letter to my girl?’
And then the sentimental chap spoke up, his voice clear over the hubbub. ‘Will you help us?’
‘What’s your name?’ Nelly said to him.
‘Davey.’
‘Davey, we’re really busy as you can imagine. But I promise, Elsie and I will do whatever we can.’
‘We will,’ I agreed. ‘Honestly.’
I met her glance over the bed and she smiled at me. ‘It’s important,’ she said.
*
I didn’t have a chance to think about the messages during my shift because it was another awful night of raids but when I was walking home from the station – alone because poor Nelly had been held back to aid in the operating theatre and very slowly because my legs were aching after another night on my feet – I wondered if it was even possible to help these men. I popped the letter to the children into the pillar box and walked on. They all wanted different things, I thought. Messages to their wives or their girlfriends, memories recorded, final thoughts before they went back to fight. It just didn’t seem like something we could do. I shook my head, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I was so tired the pavement was swimming in front of my eyes and I was desperate to get to bed. I couldn’t think about this now. Once I’d had some sleep and some food, I’d be in a better position to come up with a plan. Perhaps.
I turned the corner into our street and almost cried to see Jackson sitting on the wall outside our house. I didn’t want to see him now. Didn’t want to deal with his inane chat when all I could think about was climbing into bed.
I wondered wearily if I could avoid him somehow, but my legs were still carrying me towards him and I couldn’t stop.
‘Elsie,’ he said, spotting me and jumping to his feet. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. I didn’t see you leaving yesterday, so I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.’
I looked at him through drooping eyes. ‘I was at work.’
‘I know that, silly. Did you change your shifts?’
I shook my head, feeling my hair coming loose from its pins. I must look a right state, I thought. Dusty smudges on my face and arms, mucky uniform, a ladder in my stocking. But Jackson was looking at me fondly.
‘You look so tired,’ he said. ‘Are you getting enough rest?’ He reached out and tucked the loose strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers brush my cheek as he did. I froze. I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want him near me. But how could I say that? He was just looking out for me.
‘You’re so pretty, Elsie,’ he cooed. ‘You’d be even prettier if you smiled more.’
‘I have to go to bed,’ I said. My mouth was dry with discomfort.
‘I could come with you,’ Jackson said, then he gasped and put his hand over his mouth in an overexaggerated fashion. ‘Not like that, Elsie. I meant to check you get in all right. I didn’t mean anything untoward.’
But the way he looked at me suggested he meant exactly that. My heart began to beat a little bit faster because I wanted rid of him and I didn’t have the energy to tell him to leave.
‘I’m very tired, Jackson,’ I said weakly.
‘Elsie! Oh, thank goodness!’
I looked round to see Mrs Gold hanging out of her living-room window on the ground floor of our maisonette. She was wearing a dressing gown and she had a headscarf covering her hair. ‘Elsie, could you help me?’
Next to me, Jackson stood up straighter, his chest puffed out. He had heard a woman ask for help, and he was ready to answer the call. I wanted to cry because I knew he was getting ready to go inside and then I’d never get rid of him.
‘What can I do?’ he said in a slightly deeper voice than he usually used.
‘Oh, thank you, darling,’ said Mrs Gold. ‘But it’s Elsie I need.’ She bit her lip and gave Jackson a meaningful look. ‘It’s women’s troubles.’
Jackson stepped back like she’d hit him.
‘I’m coming,’ I said. I darted round the side of Jackson and up the path before he could stop me, then I let myself into the front door and slammed it shut, leaning against it to catch my breath. Mrs Gold appeared in the hallway, next to her own front door.
‘Are you all right?’ she said.
I made a face. ‘Yes, are you? You said you needed help?’
‘I’m absolutely fine.’ She took off her dressing gown revealing she was fully dressed underneath, and then peeled off her headscarf too. ‘I thought you needed an excuse.’
I stared at her in astonishment. ‘I really did.’
She draped the dressing gown over her arm and smiled at me in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘Men like that are terribly scared of the workings of women,’ she said. ‘I knew if I looked like I’d just come out of the bathroom, he’d scarper.’
‘You’re amazing,’ I said in awe.
‘You’re tired. Off to bed.’
I nodded. ‘Thank you.’
She waved a hand like it was nothing and I started climbing the stairs to our flat, pulling myself up on the bannister.
‘Mrs Gold,’ I said, turning to her. ‘Do you think it’s important for people to say things? Before they die?’
She looked up at me, her blonde hair shining in the light of the hallway. ‘I suppose it depends who they are, and what they want to say.’
‘My brother Billy died,’ I said suddenly. The Golds hadn’t yet lived downstairs when I got the telegram and I’d never mentioned it. ‘And Jackson – the chap outside – he says Billy asked him to look after me.’
‘Did he?’
I sat down on the middle step with a thump. ‘Not really. I think Jackson offered and Billy just said yes in a kind of jokey way. But then he died and now Jackson seems to have this idea that he’s my guardian angel.’
Mrs Gold rolled her eyes.
‘I’m angry that Jackson spoke to Billy after I did,’ I admitted. ‘And these men at work – airmen – they want me to keep messages for them, for their families in case they don’t come back. And I know how much that would mean to them, but I feel a bit …’
‘Resentful?’
‘That’s exactly it. I didn’t get a message from Billy – I just got Jackson. And I know I’m being petty but I feel rotten about helping other people.’ I leaned back against the worn stair carpet. ‘Gosh, that’s awful. I’m awful.’
Mrs Gold came round to the staircase and sat down on the bottom tread. ‘I don’t think you’re awful; I think you’re sad.’
I nodded. ‘I’m so very sad.’
‘Maybe writing these messages for your men would help you feel less sad?’
I gave her a tiny smile. ‘They’re not my men.’
‘It might help.’
‘It might.’
She reached up and patted my leg. ‘But for now, you have to sleep. Go on. Up to bed with you.’ She sounded so much like my mum that for a second I was dizzy with sadness and loss, but then I heaved myself to my feet and smiled.
‘Thanks,’ I said.