‘Everything all right, Gladys?’ Alice thought that the younger woman was looking worried.
‘Oh, you gave me a fright. I didn’t know you was there.’ Gladys swung around from where she’d been cleaning the counter in the service room. ‘Do you want a cold drink? It’s warm out there today, isn’t it?’
Alice could see that Gladys was avoiding her question and decided to bide her time. ‘That’s a good idea,’ she said, although she wasn’t really thirsty. ‘I’ll get myself a glass of water, don’t stop what you’re doing on my account.’
‘I got some lime cordial around here somewhere,’ said Gladys. ‘How about a splash of that? Bet you haven’t had any for ages.’
‘Yes please. Wherever did you get it?’
Gladys scrabbled around in the far reaches of the end cupboard. ‘Here you are.’ Then her face fell. ‘To be honest, I couldn’t rightly say where it came from. My sister Evelyn gave it to me, sort of as a peace offering. We had another row. She said she would look after the little ones but then she scarpered off to the pub again.’
Alice drew cold water from the tap and carefully added a small drop of the precious green cordial. ‘The pub? Isn’t she a bit young for that?’
Gladys sighed and pushed a strand of straight dull brown hair out of her eyes. ‘Yes, you’re right. I try to stop her but she don’t listen. They let her do a bit of singing and she thinks she’s going to be a star. I’m just an old killjoy who’s out to spoil her fun. She don’t see how she’s being taken advantage of. All those men from the docks who go there … I worry about her, but the more I say, the more she sneaks out.’
Alice’s face creased in sympathy. ‘I bet you do.’
‘Think I’ll have some of that meself.’ Gladys reached for the glass bottle. ‘I try not to have it too often so it’ll last, but now and again I give in.’
‘You deserve it. You work so hard,’ Alice said. ‘Doesn’t it smell lovely? All fresh.’
Gladys took a sip, closed her eyes and nodded. ‘I feel better already.’ But Alice could see she was putting on a good front, and the worry had not left her eyes.
‘Are you on first-aid duty tonight?’ she asked.
Gladys shook her head. ‘No, not until tomorrow. Thought I’d go down to the victory garden and fetch some more potatoes.’ She sighed again. ‘That’s the other thing, all the shortages. I know I shouldn’t say it but it gets me down sometimes. Always wondering how we’ll manage. You nurses out on the district all day long, you need to be well fed, but I dread not finding enough food for you all.’ She looked around in case anyone else had heard her confession.
Alice realised that Gladys felt the weight of the world on her slender shoulders. She had grown up with such heavy responsibilities and there had been no let-up since. The war did that to everyone; despite trying to maintain a cheerful outlook or – failing that – a stoic one, it was only natural to feel despondent sometimes. The campaigns in the East and in North Africa were in trouble, the U-boats were preventing supplies from crossing the Atlantic, and rationing was biting ever harder. No wonder Gladys was slumping against the counter.
On top of that, just when she might have expected some help at home from her sister, the opposite had happened and Evelyn was refusing to pull her weight. Not only that, she was actually a cause of extra worry. It was not fair.
‘Shall I come with you later?’ she offered, feeling it was a barely adequate response.
‘Oh no, you don’t have to do that,’ Gladys said at once. ‘You done enough hard work for one day, you don’t want to be out grubbing about for potatoes.’
‘I don’t mind, I like it,’ Alice said. She took another sip of cordial. ‘Reminds me of helping out my parents when I was little. At least, I thought I was helping.’
Gladys brightened. ‘If you’d like to, then I won’t say no.’
Alice finished her drink and gave a satisfied smile. ‘It’s made such a difference, having that garden,’ she said. ‘You have worked miracles with it.’
‘Ain’t just me, you all help out,’ Gladys said immediately.
‘You do the brunt of it,’ Alice pointed out. ‘You’re too modest, Gladys. You think about what we need, work out when and where to plant it, and then pick it when it’s ready. We really just do what you tell us.’
At last Gladys gave a quick grin. ‘I like it too, really. It helps me to think, straightens out my head when I don’t know what to do with myself.’ She drained her glass. ‘Thanks, Alice. I’d better finish here and go to help Cook with the evening meal, but I’ll see you later.’ She picked up her cleaning rag again.
‘Right you are.’ Alice made her way back through the common room and into the hall, wondering how Edith’s interview with Fiona had gone. With luck she was up in her room right now, writing to tell Harry the good news. That’s what we all need, Alice thought to herself. Some good news. It seems like a long time since we had much of that.
‘What are you doing on Saturday evening?’ Mary asked a few weeks later. They were in the common room after a particularly tiring day. Alice couldn’t have said why; it was still hot, although no more than it had been for much of the summer; her patients were demanding, but only as much as they usually were. It was that background sense of constant unease, the drip-drip-drip of depressing news on all fronts. She hadn’t been able to shake it off properly.
‘Let me guess,’ Mary went on, settling herself in a comfy chair. ‘Sitting in your room reading a boring book. Or sitting down here reading a boring newspaper.’
‘They’re not boring,’ Alice began in protest but Mary took no notice.
‘Doing the crossword and then listening to more news on the wireless. Same as you do every day. Well, how about a change?’
Alice looked warily at her friend. ‘What sort of a change?’
Mary beamed. ‘Charles can get us tickets for the last night of the Proms. How about that? Wouldn’t you like to come?’
‘Really?’ Alice perked up. ‘Edie, did you hear that? Do you fancy a night out at the Albert Hall?’
Edith came across to join them, her expression slightly dubious. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t know much about that sort of music. I might not like it as much as some of the others.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Mary briskly. ‘It’ll be Beethoven, everyone likes that. It’s fun, Edith, it won’t be stuffy, I promise.’
Edith shrugged. She had been thinking of Harry’s latest letter with news about his forthcoming operations. If they went well then he would be recuperating through the autumn, and perhaps they could set a definite date for their wedding after that. A Christmas wedding – that would be perfect.
‘I don’t know …’
‘Oh, go on, Edie,’ said Alice, almost laughing as she realised it was usually the other way around, Edith begging her to go out for once in her life. ‘You might enjoy it. I’d love to go, Mary. It’s very kind of Charles. Are you certain we won’t be in the way – don’t you want him to yourself for an evening?’
Mary generously shook her head. ‘This is too good an opportunity to waste. Edith, you’re coming along and that’s that. It’s so exciting. I used to go all the time before the war – of course that was when it was in the Queen’s Hall, but that got bombed. I was afraid they’d cancel the whole thing but it started up again and better than ever, because the Albert Hall is so big. It’s good for boosting morale. Look at it like that, if you’re worried you won’t like the music.’
‘It’s all right for you, you grew up playing the piano and having singing lessons,’ Edith retorted. ‘We didn’t have so much as a harmonica in our house. If anyone sang too loud, my father clipped them round the ear. It puts you right off.’
Mary would not be dissuaded. ‘All the more reason to start now, then,’ she said smartly, standing up once more. ‘I’ll write to Charles straight away, before you change your mind.’
The staff car cautiously weaved along the damaged roads, past Hyde Park and through the centre of London, headlamps shaded because of the blackout, but as far as Alice was concerned it was as good as being in a sports car. It had been ages since she’d been in any kind of private vehicle. Even though she was crammed in the back with Edith, it felt like a decadent luxury.
The skies were lit by anti-aircraft spotlights, a far cry from the pre-war bright lights of the West End, and yet there were revellers out on the streets, making the most of a raid-free Saturday night on the town. Men and women in uniform alternated with those in civvies, some linking arms and wandering along singing.
In the front passenger seat, Mary was singing as well. She’d picked up the stirring melody of the sea shanties in the second half of the programme and was improvising her own version, tapping out the rhythm on the dashboard. From anyone else this would have been annoying, but Mary had a fine voice and it was all part of the evening’s fun.
Alice caught a glimpse of Charles’s face as he looked quickly across at Mary, before turning his attention back to the road. She knew that her colleague often despaired of him, as they saw each other far less often than she would like, and she doubted if their romance would ever come to anything. Yet Alice could tell from that brief glance that he thought the world of Mary. From the moment they had all met up earlier, he had been extra attentive to her, smiling even when she couldn’t see he was doing so, gently helping her with her jacket or making sure she had the best seat.
It wasn’t Charles’s fault their love could not progress; it was the war’s. He was an army captain and put his duty before everything, although this evening had made Alice realise how much that cost him. In any other situation he would have put Mary first.
Alice looked sideways at Edith, catching her animated face as a spotlight beam swept the sky above them. Far from hating the concert, Edith had loved it, swept along by the stirring music and the sense of occasion. It had been a night to remember. She began to hum along to Mary’s spirited rendition of the ‘Sailor’s Hornpipe’.
‘Sounds as if you don’t mind that sort of music after all,’ she said when her friends had finished.
Edith laughed. ‘I don’t know if I’d want to go to it all the time but that was just what we needed. I can’t get the tunes out of my head.’
Mary turned around to face them, and in the intermittent light Alice caught her broad smile. ‘See, I said you’d like it. We could go to other concerts if you want, when our days off coincide. There’s usually something on at the National Gallery at lunchtime. Myra Hess, you know.’
Edith made a non-committal noise.
‘Charles used to take me before he grew so busy,’ Mary went on, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Didn’t you? We used to meet there for some music and a quick bite to eat. Remember when they had really strange food? I suppose it was all they could get, and they always like to provide something.’
Charles chuckled and again turned briefly towards her. ‘Honey and raisin sandwiches, as I recall. Absolutely delicious, if you like that sort of thing.’
‘I don’t remember having much choice,’ Mary said archly. ‘But it was wonderful all the same.’
Alice thought that she might give it a try, if there was ever a spare moment. Not so much for the peculiar sandwiches but for that sensation of being part of something beyond herself, one of a big audience all enjoying the same thing. It lifted you, took you out of your day-to-day worries. ‘I’ll go with you, Mary,’ she said.
Mary turned again and beamed before catching Charles’s eye as she faced the windscreen once more. Alice caught their look and again sensed that Mary’s concerns had no foundation. If all went well, their day would come.
Edith sat back against the dark leather of the car’s back seat and Alice thought how she too deserved her chance of happiness. With luck what would be Harry’s final major operation had been booked in for September. In a matter of weeks he would be recuperating and so Edith’s longed-for Christmas wedding was on the cards. Even if such a future was not the one she herself could expect, Alice knew that this was the path Edith dearly wanted, and it looked as if she could continue nursing as well. She felt a little guilty at the relief that news had given her. She relied on Edith’s presence far more than her friend realised.
For a moment Alice wondered what it would be like: to be able to carry on nursing and yet have the comfort and thrill of a husband. She gave herself a little shake. She must not even let that thought enter her head. No good would come of it. Memories of her heartbreak were still all too vivid and she had absolutely no intention of ever risking such a thing again.
She shivered and drew her light cotton jacket more tightly across her best summer blouse. All around the crowds were singing, shouting, in high spirits, as the spotlights continued to rake the sky.
Charles drove them all the way to the end of Victory Walk, which Alice suspected was stretching the petrol regulations, but she was glad as they’d only just made the curfew. He’d slowed the car right down to navigate the last couple of streets, so as not to wake any of the neighbours. The tall, narrow houses rose up from the warm, cracked pavements, their bay windows catching what light there was on their angled glass panes. She and Edith mounted the steps of the nurses’ home, leaving Mary a few discreet moments to say her own goodbyes. They were expecting the home to be winding down for the night but instead a buzz of chatter greeted them.
‘Quick, shut the door so the light doesn’t shine out,’ said Edith, surprised that the main hallway lamp was still on. ‘We don’t want to end the night with a telling-off from the ARP warden.’
‘Well, it won’t be Billy, that’s for sure.’ Bridget appeared at the foot of the stairs.
Alice carefully left the door open a crack so that Mary could get in, and turned to face her colleague. ‘Why, what’s happened to Billy? Is he all right?’
Bridget nodded emphatically. ‘Oh yes. He’s more than all right. He’ll just be a bit busy.’
‘Busy? What do you mean?’ Alice was becoming concerned. She half-shrugged off her jacket and then stopped, wondering if she would need to pull it on again.
Bridget relented. ‘We just got the call. We’re getting ready to go round … Ellen and me.’
‘Go round? Go where? Why?’ Edith demanded.
‘To Jeeves Street. That’s where the patient is. Can’t you guess? Kathleen’s gone into labour.’
Edith gasped, then stood stock still. ‘Already? Typical, the one night we go out …’
Bridget nodded. ‘It’s true. She must be about a month early. So, apparently she had an inkling the baby was on its way and went around to take Brian to Mattie. Then, while she was there, she felt the first proper labour pains. Flo and Mattie told her to stay put rather than try to get back to her house. Stan went out to use the ARP phone to call for a nurse. It all sounds straightforward, even if it’s come on a bit fast.’
‘Well, you and Ellen had the specialist midwifery training and so it makes sense that you go.’ Alice flashed a look at Edith, who nodded in acknowledgement.
‘Yes, but you and Alice delivered a baby in the Anderson shelter in a raid,’ Bridget pointed out. ‘After that, anything else must be a doddle.’
Edith raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Delivering Mattie’s son in such circumstances wasn’t something she’d care to repeat, although at the time there had been little choice; they’d simply had to get on with it.
‘Wouldn’t she rather you two went?’ Bridget asked. ‘I know you’ve just come in, but you’re her friends. I mean, we’re almost ready to leave, but if you wanted …’
Edith had been all for going upstairs to her attic room but now she had a surge of renewed energy. ‘What do you think, Al? Shall we? It is Kath, after all.’
Alice too had been looking forward to a proper night’s sleep but this news changed all that. She nodded vigorously. ‘I think we should.’
Edith smiled in anticipation. ‘Just think, Kath and Billy’s baby! I can’t wait to meet him, or her. Come on, Al, let’s get our bags and go over there as fast as we can.’
In the end it made little difference who turned up from the nurses’ home. By the time Alice and Edith arrived, an exhausted but ecstatic Kathleen was sitting propped up in Flo and Stan’s comfortable old double bed, a tiny scrap with jet-black hair in her arms. A small pink face was just about discernable, surrounded by clean white sheets and a crotcheted baby blanket that Edith recognised from when Alan was a newborn.
The new mother was not too tired to grin broadly at the nurses. ‘Here she is,’ she whispered. ‘My little girl.’
Edith dropped to her knees. ‘A girl! Oh how lovely. Brian has a baby sister. What a little beauty.’ She rocked back on her heels. ‘We’ve brought our bags – is everything all right, Kath? We should check you over, the pair of you, now we’re here.’
Flo laughed from the doorway. ‘Yes, we’ll make the most of you. But I can tell you everything is how it should be. After all, I should know.’ She gazed affectionately at the young woman who lay in her own bed. ‘Gave birth to three of my own and been there for my first granddaughter’s arrival, don’t forget. I might not have the medical words for what just happened but I’d call it a textbook birth. Couldn’t wait to come into the world, this little one.’
Kath gave a short laugh. ‘I wouldn’t say it was easy, but compared to when I had Brian, or even worse, what Mattie went through with Alan – well, I’m lucky.’ She returned her gaze to her daughter. ‘Very lucky. Just look at her. She has her daddy’s hair.’ She looked up again. ‘Where’s Billy gone? He went downstairs just before you two arrived.’
Flo folded her arms across her apron. ‘Well now, Stan thought it only right to wet the baby’s head, so he’s opened some of that beer he was given at Christmas. He’s pleased as Punch of course. I’ll let you two do what you have to do and then you must come down and join us.’
Alice and Edith left again shortly after, knowing they were surplus to requirements. They pushed their bikes along, too tired by now to ride them the short distance to Victory Walk.
‘Oh, she’s a healthy little creature. Seven pounds ten,’ Edith said and Alice nodded. ‘They haven’t decided what to call her yet, have they? There’s talk of maybe Billy’s mother’s name, but I didn’t catch what it was.’
‘Probably won’t be named after Kath’s mother,’ Alice commented, knowing that relations between the two were strained, to put it mildly. ‘Still, time enough for that. Are you going to mass tomorrow morning, Edith?’
‘I might well do that.’ The Irish nurses were much more frequent attendees than Edith was, but perhaps she could go and give thanks that Kath and Billy had their daughter safe and sound.
Alice trundled the bike across the high road, feeling a pleasant sense of weariness overtake her. There were no cars, vans or buses to be seen, and the night all around them grew quiet. ‘I might go to church myself,’ she said. Then, catching the expression on Edith’s face, she paused. ‘What is it?’
Edith gave a small grin as she rebalanced the creaking old bike, bumping it up over the white-painted kerb. ‘That’s quite an impressive weight for a baby that’s come a month early, don’t you think?’
Alice navigated the kerb beside her. ‘Seven ten – I suppose so … why, Edith, what are you getting at? Oh. I see. Yes, you could be right.’
Edith shrugged. ‘Not that I mind, but I’ll bet you anything that’s no premature birth. No, odds are that she’s a full-term baby. I shan’t say so to anyone else but that’s what came into my mind as soon as I saw the weight.’
Alice rolled her eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter, does it? As long as she’s well, and Kath’s all right, and Billy’s happy.’
‘Doesn’t matter one bit.’ Edith swung the bike neatly around a pothole. ‘Tell you what, after mass and church, we could maybe make something for them – see what ingredients we can get together. They’ll be too busy to cook.’ She blinked in sudden tiredness and stifled a yawn. She for one would not judge Kathleen if she had indeed pre-empted her marriage vows. She was in no position to do that. Not that she’d confided – even in Alice – just how she and Harry had said their farewells before his last trip to France. She was the last person to begrudge a loving couple whatever comfort they could find, before who-knew-what perilous future might overtake them.