‘Evelyn, are you going to be much longer?’ Gladys stood in the cramped back yard outside her family’s small kitchen, waiting by the woodworm-riddled door to the privy they shared with all the other houses backing onto the yard. ‘I’m going to be late for the nurses if you don’t hurry up.’
There was a coughing noise. Then her sister spoke, her voice weak but full of mockery. ‘Oh we can’t have that, can we? Can’t keep the precious bleeding nurses waiting for a minute or two.’
Gladys moved from foot to foot in irritation. She knew they wouldn’t mind if she was five minutes late, but it was a point of pride. She loved it that they all knew they could rely on her. If by chance she was to be late, she would prefer it was for a better reason than her younger sister hogging the privy. She waited for another minute and then rapped on the splintered door. ‘Are you all right?’
There came the sound of more coughing, and then another noise – the unpleasant sound of vomiting. Gladys winced. ‘Evelyn, what’s going on?’
Evelyn cleared her throat. ‘There was something wrong with the water down the Boatman’s. Everyone said their drinks was tasting funny. Not that I had more than one,’ she added hastily.
‘Are you sure that’s what it is?’ Gladys called. ‘You haven’t gone and caught a bug, have you? I don’t want to infect anyone at the nurses’ home.’
‘That’s right, think of them before you think of me – of course they’re more important,’ Evelyn replied viciously. ‘Don’t you worry, it ain’t no bug. Now bugger off.’ She laughed feebly at the attempt at a joke.
Gladys sighed and gave up, going back inside the house on the cool spring morning. In truth the proper bathroom at Victory Walk was much nicer, but she preferred to get straight to her work, not spend her first few minutes doing her ablutions. Well, today would have to be an exception. She grabbed her coat and bag in annoyance and set off on the short journey up the road, along the streets of small terraced houses packed closely together. She was still in good time; it was not long after daybreak and there were few people about. Some were clearly dressed for an early shift at the factories, others were most likely making their way home after a night fire-watching or on anti-aircraft duty.
Evelyn had refused to talk about Max when Gladys pressed her for details after the dreadful night in the Boatman’s courtyard. Gladys could only hope that her sister would see sense and realise that the older man was using her. Yet Evelyn still seemed convinced that he would help her in her ambitions to go on the stage. For that, she appeared to be willing to put up with his attentions. Gladys shuddered.
Her sister had taken to teasing her that she didn’t know what real life was like. In many ways she was right, as Gladys had hardly left Dalston and until recently had not met many people. Yet her contact with the district nurses and, even more, her evenings on duty at the first-aid post had changed all that. She might still be in Dalston, but the world and all its troubles were coming straight to her.
It was quite possible that there had been a problem with the drinks at the Boatman’s. She had seen for herself what the standard of cleanliness was down there. It was also possible that her sister had been lying about how much she’d had. Gladys was willing to bet that Max was happy to lay on a few potent spirits in order to have his way with a more compliant Evelyn. He was just the sort of man who would see that as a good investment.
Or Evelyn might be mistaken and she did have a bug after all. Gladys hoped not. She really did not want to bring infection into the nurses’ home. God knew that they faced enough of that in the course of their work.
She pushed open the side door to the home and listened. Cook was up and about, judging by the clattering of pans in the kitchen. She would be preparing the porridge to see the nurses through their morning rounds on the district. ‘Won’t be long!’ Gladys called out, so that her colleague would know help was at hand. She hung up her coat on a hook on the back of the service-room door and put down her bag, dipping into it to retrieve a flannel. She might as well have a good quick wash in the luxury of the proper bathroom on the lower-ground floor of the home. It had hot water on tap – a real treat.
Then there was the other explanation. Gladys caught sight of herself in the little mirror over the sink, which she had polished only yesterday. Her face was drawn with worry. Evelyn might taunt her about her lack of experience, but you couldn’t be around nurses for long without knowing why some women were sick in the mornings.
Gladys didn’t know what she would do if Evelyn was expecting a baby. She doubted very much that Max would be any help if that turned out to be the case. Their small home was packed to the rafters with children as it was. She’d done her time looking after her siblings; she didn’t want to be responsible for another one. Would Evelyn be capable of raising a child? Lots of women younger than her were doing so – but they weren’t Evelyn, with her head in the clouds, relying on Gladys to make sure all the day-to-day practicalities were dealt with.
People would look down on her and, by association, the whole family. Gladys sighed. Evelyn would be dragging her down again, just as she had begun to pull herself out of poverty, with her Civil Nursing Reserve training. She was well on her way to becoming respectable – it wasn’t fair. Surely she deserved her chance at life too?
She met her own eyes in the reflection. No point in worrying about it; she could do nothing to change the situation, and it might turn out to be a bug or too much drink. She had to keep her fingers crossed that the worst was not going to happen. Wringing out her flannel, she opened the door and prepared to begin her working day.
Belinda shook her hair free from its navy ribbon and then bound it up again, attempting to corral all the stray tight curls. She and all of her colleagues were vigilant about hygiene, but today it felt more important than ever. She’d come across three cases of gastro-enteritis on her calls already, and it was still only lunchtime.
‘Is it just me?’ she asked, taking her bowl of mixed vegetable and pearl barley soup to the table where Bridget and Alice were already sitting. ‘If I’m not much mistaken, there’s a nasty new bug going around. Alice, one of your young friends has gone down with it.’
Alice looked up from where she was spreading her bread with a thin layer of margarine. ‘Oh really? Who’s that?’
Belinda folded her tall frame onto the old wooden dining chair. ‘Poor George. You know, the one I met when the wall collapsed.’
‘Janet used to teach him at St Benedict’s.’ Alice nodded. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
Belinda reached for a slice of bread from the platter in the middle of the table. ‘I was visiting one of his neighbours with a broken leg and decided to drop by on the off-chance, to see how he was doing. I thought he’d probably be at school, but he wasn’t – he’s got this nasty bug and his mother had kept him at home. He’s not in danger; he’s more miserable than anything else. He was meant to be playing football with Benny after school but he won’t be able to do that for a while.’
Alice frowned. ‘That’s a shame. He’s a good lad underneath all his naughtiness. Did you tell his mother to keep his fluid levels up? Sorry, of course you did.’
‘Of course I did.’ Belinda pulled a face.
Bridget finished her soup first. ‘I was ravenous,’ she explained. ‘I took on two extra visits this morning, as Ellen wasn’t feeling up to all her rounds – don’t tell Gwen. I think she might be going down with it too. I’ll pop over to the flat to check on her in a minute but then I’ll come right back here; I don’t want it as well. We’ve too much to do to get sick.’
Belinda nodded. ‘You’re telling me. But I could manage an extra visit this afternoon if you like. Mrs Caffrey’s been taken into hospital again, so I shan’t have to change her dressings. That means I can help, if Ellen’s not up to it.’
‘Thanks.’ Bridget rose, concern for her friend and flatmate etched on her face. ‘Not if it makes you late though.’
Belinda shrugged. ‘I was only going to the pictures with Geraldine from the ambulance station – nothing important. Don’t think twice about it.’
Alice finished her own soup as Bridget rushed off. ‘I promised I’d see Janet for a cup of tea after work – I’ll check that she knows about George. She doesn’t take his class any more but the form teacher might need to know. She ought to be able to tell me if many of the other children have got it.’
‘That would be useful,’ said Belinda. ‘I’m always wary when there’s an outbreak like this. Tomorrow I said I’d help Miriam prepare one of her spare rooms for the latest family of refugees from Austria. They won’t thank me if the first thing they do is go down with a bug.’
‘Goodness, no.’ Alice rose as Gladys appeared behind them. ‘It’s all right, Gladys, I’ll take these plates back to the kitchen. Have you had your own lunch yet? Thought not. Why don’t you take my place here with Belinda?’
Gladys nodded gratefully, but really she was thinking hard about the conversation she had just overheard. So there was an outbreak of gastro-enteritis going around. She could feel the tension draining from her body in relief. That was all there was to it. Evelyn had picked it up somewhere, maybe from the filthy Boatman’s. She had got all het up over nothing. All that was wrong with her silly, infuriating sister was a stomach bug.
Mattie dug her small trowel into the earth in the window box, which was carefully balanced on the sill of the back kitchen in Jeeves Street. Frowning with concentration so as not to disturb the other plants, she pulled out the biggest one. Triumphantly she held up her bounty.
‘Look!’ she beamed. ‘The first radish of the year. Isn’t it a beauty?’
Kathleen laughed and applauded. ‘It is. Proper ruby red, that is.’
Mattie nodded in appreciation and dug up two others. ‘There, one each: for you, me and Ma. We can dip them in a bit of salt and they’ll be lovely. I know it’s only a little thing, but I do enjoy springtime when the new vegetables start to be ready. I feel I’ve done something to help.’
Kathleen smiled in acknowledgement. ‘You’re clever, Mattie. I’d never know what to plant and when. Then you fit so much into this space.’ She looked around the area, just too big to be a yard but not really worthy of the title garden, especially with the big mound of the shelter in the middle. Still, Mattie had made use of the earth piled on top of that, and sowed seed for salads. Any old container available had been put to use for potatoes, just beginning to show their first leaves.
Later on there would be tomatoes and cucumbers in the lean-to greenhouse. Mattie had persuaded her father to bring back any reusable glass that wasn’t dangerous from bombsites, and to use it to construct the makeshift hothouse. Kathleen wondered whether to ask Billy to do the same, although their space was much smaller and she didn’t want Brian to collide with any sharp edges.
She hoisted little Barbara higher onto her shoulder. ‘When you’re bigger you can have one of Auntie Mattie’s radishes too. Would you like that?’ She grinned into the little face, which grinned back at her. She was such a good baby, easier than Brian had been – but then, he’d gone hungry for many of his early months. Despite the war, Barbara was being well fed with a balanced diet, and Kathleen gave thanks every day for such a healthy daughter. The only downside was, her arms ached when she carried her for too long. ‘Let’s find your pram,’ she said.
Mattie followed her inside, and washed the radishes at the sink. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said as she dug out a small plate and the salt.
Kathleen looked up from settling Barbara. ‘That sounds serious,’ she teased.
Mattie shook her head and her untidy hair swung about her face. ‘No, really. I know I help out by growing vegetables as well as looking after the children and doing the housework with Ma, but I wonder if I shouldn’t do more.’ She trimmed the leaves off the little plants and added them to the compost crock.
‘But you work so hard,’ Kathleen protested. ‘You’re never still, Mattie.’
Her friend wiped her hands on her apron. ‘All the same. I mean, look at Billy. He works a full shift down the docks and then does an evening as an ARP warden. So does Pa – works eight hours then patrols the streets more nights than not.’
‘But when they come home they have a meal waiting for them and a clean house,’ Kathleen pointed out.
Mattie shrugged. ‘What about Clarrie, then? She does a day in the factory and then goes up on the roof for a night of fire-watching. And then she helps her mother around the house, specially now her sister is away. I think I should do more.’
Kathleen narrowed her eyes at her friend. ‘How do you mean? What’s brought this on all of a sudden?’
Mattie shook the salt onto the plate and took it to the big wooden table. ‘It’s not sudden, not really. It’s been on my mind for a while,’ she confessed.
Kathleen cocked her head. ‘Is it something to do with Lennie?’ she asked. ‘What with him being away so long?’
Mattie hung her head. Sometimes they didn’t even mention her husband’s name for weeks at a time. They were coming up to the third anniversary of Dunkirk, when he had been taken prisoner. But just because they didn’t speak of him as often, that didn’t mean she had forgotten him. She missed him every day.
‘Sort of,’ she said, with the slightest catch in her voice. ‘He did his bit and then he got taken out of the fight. I feel I owe it to him to carry on what he started. Does that make sense?’
Kathleen frowned in puzzlement. ‘Maybe. I’m not really sure, to be honest.’
Mattie dipped her radish into the salt and took a bite. ‘Here, try.’ She pushed the plate across to her friend. ‘It’s like, if he was on the front line fighting, I’d know he was helping to make us all safe. But he can’t do that now. He’s stuck in that POW camp. So it’s up to me.’ She took a second bite, nearly finishing the small red globe. ‘The children are older now. I’m not feeding them myself any more. Gillian and Brian are both four – not long before they go to school. Alan’s two. I could leave him with Ma, just like I do when I go shopping. He wouldn’t mind – he’d hardly notice.’
‘I’d help,’ said Kathleen at once. ‘He’s used to me as well. If you’re serious about this. That way, I’d feel like I was doing my bit to help, even if it isn’t much.’
Mattie waited a moment before replying. This idea had been going round and round in her head for weeks, months even, but it was the first time she’d spoken the thoughts aloud. She was still feeling her way to making sense of them. She knew deep down it was her way of carrying on what Lennie had started. She rarely talked about his absence, of how she hadn’t imagined their life like this. To complain would do nothing to change matters. So she hid her sorrow, keeping it to herself, until those hours of the night when her children and parents were asleep. Then she could sob into her pillow, worried to distraction about what conditions were like in his camp. Whether he was all right or sick, knowing he would not want to worry her in the few letters he managed to send. Wondering if she would ever see him again.
Doing some form of war work would be a distraction, if nothing else. Yet she also wanted to show him that she was doing her utmost and to make him proud of her when he did return. It was a way of boosting her faith that he would come back to her, to their children – finally to meet Alan, born after his father had been captured at Dunkirk.
‘Yes, I am serious about it.’ There, she’d said it. ‘You know lots of factories have nurseries now, or the WVS will know of council places. Ma could find out.’
‘It might not even be for very long,’ Kathleen said quickly, now filled with optimism. ‘Billy says the tide has turned, that after Monty won in North Africa the Germans are on the run.’
‘Maybe.’ Mattie didn’t want to get her hopes up. ‘I don’t know about those things. That’s Pa’s business – or Alice’s. I just want to do more. Besides, we aren’t out of danger. Look at those explosions recently.’
‘But they were anti-aircraft shells, weren’t they?’ Kathleen grew anxious once more at the memory. They hadn’t landed near her new house or on Jeeves Street, but they were still in Hackney, and so close enough to remind them all of how perilous bombs could be.
‘Whatever they were, it makes me even more sure I need to join up. I wouldn’t go away, I’d have to stay with the children, but maybe a factory like Clarrie and Peggy work in. If they can do it, then so can I.’
Kathleen nodded, impressed at her friend’s courage and resolution. She wouldn’t want to be separated from her children for one minute longer than she absolutely had to. ‘Of course you can,’ she assured her.