Gladys sighed. Now that the nights were drawing in, it was becoming more and more difficult to go to the victory garden in between finishing work at the nurses’ home and starting her first-aid shift. She didn’t like to ask to leave early, or to take time in the middle of the day, but perhaps she would have to. After all, she was picking vegetables for the nurses to eat, but she’d always prided herself on managing to do that in her own time. It was good to have some help.
Mary wasn’t the most experienced gardener but she could be trusted to cut chard leaves and soon she had filled her trug. ‘Is this enough?’ she called.
Gladys stood up, easing her aching spine by bending backwards. She knew that the big leaves cooked down to a fraction of their original size and that they would need as much as they could carry, but she didn’t want to be discouraging. ‘Nearly,’ she called back.
‘Better pass me that little wooden crate then, as I can’t fit any more in this,’ Mary replied. Gladys moved across the plot, as Mary stood up as well. Voices from the pavement drifted over to them and Mary turned her head in recognition.
‘Hello – Billy, is that you?’ She peered towards the figures in the gathering gloom. There was no doubt that one of them was the ARP warden, but still in his working clothes from the docks. The other two were also vaguely familiar, one with glasses and one taller, a little stooped. She couldn’t remember their names but seemed to recall they had been in the Duke’s Arms more than once. They too were in their docker’s overalls, with donkey jackets and collars turned up against the late afternoon chill.
‘Mary? That you? I see they got you working hard.’ Billy grinned and stood on top of the mound of earth dividing the pavement from the vegetable plot. ‘Can I give you a hand?’
Gladys stood up straighter at that. ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly …’ she began.
Mary interrupted to do the introductions. ‘Billy, have you met Gladys? I always assume you know everyone at the nurses’ home but you might not have seen her – she works behind the scenes, when she’s not saving lives at the first-aid post in the evenings.’
Gladys blushed furiously at this effusive praise and almost forgot to hold out her hand in her embarrassment. Hastily she wiped the earth from it and then shook hands with Billy.
‘Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,’ he said easily. ‘You know my wife Kathleen, I expect? And these are my colleagues, Ronald and Kenny.’ Gladys nodded, too shy to shake hands with the strangers as well.
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Mary beamed, relieved at not being caught out forgetting the men’s names. ‘Yes, we’ve met at the Duke’s Arms a couple of times, I believe. Is that where you’re going now?’
Billy shook his head. ‘No, I’m off home to clean up and change before my evening shift. These two are planning a night out elsewhere.’
Ronald shuffled a little. ‘It ain’t nowhere special, just a place where lots of the other dockers go when they want to get away from the pubs by the river. The Boatman’s, down near the canal. You won’t know it, it ain’t like the Duke’s Arms. A bit rough around the edges, you could say.’
‘But it’s cheap,’ Kenny added, wiping his glasses.
Mary gave a shrug, as if to say she wouldn’t be seen dead in such a place, but Gladys went rigid. ‘Oh.’
Mary swung around to face her friend, curiosity plain on her face.
‘I … er. No, I never been there,’ Gladys said hurriedly, ‘but I think it’s where my sister goes.’ Dismay flooded through her, knowing that Evelyn had started sneaking out again. To hear these men, who must be respectable if they were mates of Billy, call the place a bit rough … well, it only reinforced her fears for her sister. But she was powerless to stop her going there. As Evelyn had taunted her, what was she going to do? Lock her in her room? Follow her and cause a fuss? Nothing would work, because Evelyn was determined to keep going there until she had another chance to sing for the important Americans.
She caught the look that passed between Billy’s colleagues.
‘She sings there,’ Gladys blurted out, wanting to make it clear that Evelyn wasn’t there to pick up dockers or servicemen, but unsure whether she was making things worse.
Kenny put his glasses back on. ‘Oh … right. Maybe we’ve seen her.’ He came to an uncomfortable halt.
Ron rushed in to reassure her. ‘It ain’t all bad down there, you know. It has a bit of a name, I grant you, but you know, the likes of us go there … it ain’t all bad.’ He met her eyes, earnestly trying to backtrack from the impression they’d first given. ‘She’ll … she’ll be all right,’ he added.
‘We best be going,’ Billy said. ‘Come on, lads, I got to see my Barbara before she has her feed.’
‘Give our love to Kath and the children,’ Mary said as the three men headed off into the dusk. She turned to her colleague. ‘Are you all right, Gladys? You sounded a bit shaky there.’
Gladys took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I’m all right. I worry about my sister sometimes but, like they say, it can’t be so bad a place if they go there.’ She thought about the look in Ronald’s eyes as he had tried to make things better, and hoped that somehow there would be enough good men in the pub that her sister could come to no trouble. Yet, with the likes of Max around, it didn’t bear thinking about. She rolled back her sleeves with resolution. ‘Come on, let’s fill that crate with chard and go back before it’s dark.’
Alice warmed her hands around a welcome cup of cocoa, inhaling its chocolaty scent. She didn’t mind that it wasn’t as sweet as it used to be; they were all having to become accustomed to less and less sugar. Chocolate itself had been rationed since the summer. Even though she had worn her woollen gloves while riding her bike on her rounds, her fingers were practically numb. It had been a long day.
Her final call had been to a house she’d visited before but for a different member of the family. Perhaps Belinda should have taken this case, as she’d been there at the original incident, and it would have meant fewer complications, but that wasn’t how the rota had worked out. So Alice had been left to check on Larry, the little boy who had been crushed by the collapsing wall back in the summer. He’d had to spend some weeks in hospital as he had been very poorly immediately after the accident, but was now back home. Even so, the nurses kept a special eye on him. He’d had an extremely lucky escape.
Larry’s gran had been against Alice for years, ever since she’d politely suggested that the children should be evacuated. Larry’s sister Pauline had predicted that wouldn’t go down well and she had been right. The family had sat tight throughout the Blitz, and the worst thing until now that had befallen them was that the grandmother was suffering from ulcerated legs. Alice had drawn the short straw and nursed her through the worst of it, and the crotchety old woman had reluctantly conceded that she’d done a good job. The kids were staying put, though.
She had therefore been unsure of her welcome at the small terraced house, one of the most rundown she had ever encountered, but as it was the grandmother was out anyway. Pauline had let her in, delighted that her favourite nurse had turned up. ‘Gran’s ever so much better thanks to you,’ she’d said, leading Alice into the filthy sitting room. ‘She can walk down the pub on her own now, she don’t need me to fetch her gin no more.’
Alice had nodded, unsure whether that was an improvement. ‘So who’s in charge here now, looking after Larry?’
‘Me of course.’ Pauline gave her a withering look, as if to say she was stating the obvious. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’
Alice shook her head, knowing what state the crockery was in, and reflected that Pauline – who she reckoned must be ten by now – was very probably much more reliable than the grandmother. Even if she was young, she was at least sober. As for Pauline’s mother, she seemed to be permanently absent, and there had never been any sign of the father.
Larry had always been small for his age and his accident had not helped, but Alice checked him over and he seemed none the worse for his brush with death. His broken ribs were healing well and he could breathe properly. ‘Just make sure you let me or Nurse Adams know if he gets a bad cold or flu,’ Alice had said as she repacked her bag. ‘His lungs might not be as strong as before. We’ll never be sure what he breathed in when he was stuck under those bricks. So don’t worry that you’re making a fuss over nothing – you make sure to tell us.’
‘I will, miss.’ Pauline had seen her out of the house with an expression that made clear she had never worried about making a fuss.
Now Alice smiled to herself. She knew she shouldn’t have favourites but Pauline had always been that little bit special – coming from such a background, it was a miracle the way she had survived and kept an eye on her baby brother, let alone done it so cheerfully.
‘Oh, my poor feet!’ Edith collapsed next to her on one of the few sofas in the common room. ‘Shove up, Al, room for another. Let me put my poor pins up on that dining chair. Ah, that’s better.’
Alice obligingly moved along, although Edith took up hardly any space. She was just letting off steam. ‘What’s wrong?’
Edith leant back into the lumpy cushions and rolled her eyes. ‘Mrs Vallence, you know that new mother I saw last week, couldn’t collect her own ration of extra orange juice so I said I’d do it. The shopkeeper knows me, it should have been easy, but no. There was a mix-up and her juice was waiting at another shop further away, then they kept me waiting because the coupons didn’t add up – we got it sorted out at last but I could have done without it.’
Alice grunted in sympathy. ‘That doesn’t sound like much fun. You’ve got enough to do without fetching someone’s orange juice. Still, I bet she was grateful.’
Edith nodded. ‘She was. At least I think so. She could barely keep awake, poor woman – that baby’s not sleeping well at all.’ She stretched her arms above her head and the loose sleeves of her old grey cardigan fell down to her elbows. ‘I must have cycled halfway to Shoreditch and back.’
Alice reached into the pocket of her old tweed skirt. ‘Here, this’ll help. Have a toffee.’
‘Where did you get that? They’re like gold dust. Are you sure?’
Alice laughed. ‘Course I am. I’ve had a couple already. My mother sent them. Makes me feel guilty for not going to see her more often.’
Edith turned against the arm of the sofa so that she could look properly at her friend. ‘She knows you can’t get away very often, Al. It comes with the job and she wouldn’t expect it. And don’t you even think of going home for Christmas. I shall need you here to help with everything.’
‘Pfff, as if I would.’ Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll be here when needed, you can rely upon it.’
‘Good. Because I do.’ Edith moved on hastily to the question that was plaguing her. ‘Do you think I should tell my family about the wedding? I haven’t heard a thing from any of them since Mick wrote to say he got the money I sent. That was ages ago.’
Alice paused before answering. This was a difficult one. Edith had had virtually no contact with any of her family for the entire time they had known one another. They had never approved of Edith becoming a nurse, telling her she was getting above herself. If she was set on going out to work then she should have stayed at home in south London and helped out with her younger brothers and sisters, rather than going off to train elsewhere. There had always been that underlying resentment. Edith had been close only to her older sister, who had died of diphtheria when Edith was about twelve. Some time ago her brother Frankie had tried to winkle money from his sister, claiming it was to get their younger brother Mick out of trouble. Edith had got around that by sending Mick some money direct, believing that Frankie would take a sizeable cut otherwise.
‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let them know you are getting married,’ Alice said slowly. ‘After all, if they want to contact you in the future, they’ll need to know your new name, won’t they?’
Edith beamed at the idea. ‘I’m going to be Edith Banham. Doesn’t that sound good? No more comments about the name Gillespie being too Irish. You’d think people would have enough on their minds, but every now and again somebody still says it.’
‘There’s no accounting for such people. You just have to ignore them,’ Alice said sombrely, hating the fact that her friend had had to put up with such insults for as long as she could remember.
‘I know.’ Edith clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I think I’ll write to tell them but do it just before the wedding so they won’t have time to stir up trouble. Frankie is bound to be on active duty anyway. Mick will have had his call-up papers, I expect. He wanted to join up at sixteen so I bet he’s raring to go.’ She stopped, suddenly sad at the thought of the young man who wasn’t as bad as the rest of them putting his life on the line. ‘No, there’s no chance any of them will want to be there. I mean, if they can’t be bothered to send a Christmas card, then they’re hardly likely to come all that way north of the river in the depths of winter. It’s not as if they wish me well or anything like that.’
She pursed her lips in annoyance. Despite being used to the idea, her family’s indifference still stung at times like this. How different it would be if it were Alice getting married: her parents adored her, even though the fact they were up in Liverpool meant they hardly ever saw her. Yet they were always sending her little gifts; nothing fancy as they weren’t particularly well off, but tokens to show they thought of her. They were proud of her.
‘Write to them,’ Alice said decisively. ‘Doesn’t mean you have to invite them. After all, look at the family you’re marrying into. You’ll never be without a warm welcome there, that’s for sure.’
Edith nodded and leant back again, understanding that what Alice said was absolutely true. The Banhams had fallen over themselves to make sure she felt like one of them, and Flo was like a mother to her. Of course she was ecstatic at the idea of marrying Harry and would have done so no matter what his background; but to have the added bonus of the whole Banham clan to turn to, no matter what, was deeply reassuring.
‘I will. Just not yet, then.’ She glanced wryly at Alice. ‘Does that sound too sneaky?’
‘No,’ said Alice at once. ‘It’s being practical. Don’t you worry, Edie, we’ll be with you on your big day.’
‘We certainly will!’ cried Mary, coming up behind the sofa, dressed in what looked like a new frock in bright yellow taffeta, far more glamorous than any of the rest of them this grey November evening.
‘Going out?’ asked Edith. ‘Or are you dressing up to brighten our gourmet meal of vegetable and barley stew?’
‘Very funny. And how do you know that’s what we’re having?’ Mary plonked herself down on the arm of the sofa, carefully tucking the folds of taffeta underneath her first.
‘I can smell it. Is that new?’ Despite herself, Edith sounded impressed. It had been a very long while since she had had a new dress, or anything new at all, apart from an updated uniform.
Mary nodded, smoothing the gorgeous fabric. ‘A present from Charles. He had it made specially for me.’ Then her smile slipped. ‘It’s because lots of my other frocks don’t fit properly any more. I’m losing my curves.’ For a moment she looked utterly despondent.
‘We all are, even those of us who didn’t have many to start with,’ sighed Alice. It was true. Increased rationing set alongside such physically demanding work meant that they had all lost weight, despite Gladys’s attempts to keep them well fed. If Mary – with her well-connected boyfriend taking her out for posh meals – couldn’t keep her figure, what hope was there for the rest of them? Then she brightened. ‘Still, chin up. There’s been good news from North Africa, have you heard?’
Mary shook her head, clearly thinking that somewhere so remote was of less concern than her immediate worries about changing shape and looking less feminine.
‘No, really,’ Alice went on, ‘it’s only come through today, but Rommel’s been beaten. It could mean the tide is turning at last. Don’t you see, Mary? This is very important. General Montgomery’s gained the upper hand.’
Mary brightened at the familiar name. ‘Oh, Monty’s terribly good. Charles always says so. I always knew he’d win.’
Alice nodded slowly, realising she should have expected that reaction – Mary was never very sharp when it came to current affairs. Still, it made no difference to the impact of the news. It really was something to celebrate.
‘We should do something to mark the occasion,’ Edith said, filled now with enthusiastic energy. ‘How about the cinema later?’
‘I can’t, I’m afraid, I’m meeting Charles,’ Mary said apologetically.
‘I can see that,’ Edith grinned. ‘Al, how about it? We can ask the others. There’s a Flanagan and Allen on down at Mare Street. We could go there.’
Alice stood up. ‘Yes, why not? I haven’t been out for ages. And in that case,’ she cast a glance at Mary, ‘I’m going to put on something a bit more glamorous than this old skirt. Even if I don’t have a new party frock, I feel like dressing up for once.’