Ron had reluctantly allowed Kenny to persuade him to visit the Boatman’s one more time. It wasn’t that he thought he’d enjoy himself, but he wondered if it might be useful. He was apprehensive about speaking to Gladys without proper evidence. Maybe he’d overhear something that would help her warn her sister.
Kenny had been enthusiastic, mainly because the beer was cheap and plentiful, unlike in some of the pubs where drink had grown hard to come by. Ron could guess what that meant – this place was getting supplied via the black market. Well, of course it was. That sounded like Max and his brother all over. Now Kenny waited at the bar, its wooden surfaces and panels stained with drips from the smudged glasses.
Ron felt strangely nervous about speaking to Gladys again. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly. He knew he wasn’t God’s gift to women and could be a little awkward, but he wasn’t completely wet behind the ears. He could usually strike up a conversation, hold his own. There was something about her that had impressed him. She had obviously been very ill at ease in the pub, and yet it hadn’t stopped her doing what she thought was right. He owed it to her to get all the facts, and then he would seek her out.
It was taking Kenny an age to get served. The barman, the landlord, was clearly distracted, running off every time he seemed about to take the drinks order. Ron pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. It was warm, oppressive even. Perhaps there was going to be a storm. He could do with a nice cold beer.
Finally Kenny returned to the little table with two pints. There were no beermats, but then the table had seen better days. Ron took a sip and the foam made a creamy moustache above his lower lip. Kenny laughed at his friend and pointed. ‘Look at you, Father Christmas.’
Ron grinned at the weak joke but his mind was elsewhere. ‘What’s he doing?’ he asked, nodding to the barman, who was yet again disappearing behind the scenes.
‘Dunno.’ Kenny set his glass down. ‘He’s been like that all evening. There’s some sort of palaver going on but not sure what it is.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s that Max fellow. Thought I saw him earlier, although I thought he was dodging the coppers. Hope he keeps to that side of the bar – he’s enough to put you off your drink.’
‘I agree.’ Ron had no desire to cross swords with the big man, but he was keen to know, all the same, if Kenny was right.
They fell into a comfortable silence, each alone with his thoughts. It had been a busy day at the docks, and the work had been hot. It was good to sit and sink a beer, even if Ron would rather have been in the Duke’s Arms. Kenny was watching his money though.
The quiet mood was interrupted when Evelyn came through the swing door from the street outside, her hair blonder than ever, her figure more obviously curvy than before – even Ron noticed. Kenny raised his eyebrows in appreciation. Ron pulled a face at him. ‘Don’t even think about it, she’s trouble,’ he muttered.
‘Suit yourself.’ Kenny wasn’t offended.
She went straight to the bar. ‘Where is he?’ she called through the archway to the back room. She had on a loose pale blue tunic, gathered above the waist, and Ron observed how she seemed to be standing a little way away from the bar and yet she was leaning on it. She must have put on some weight. Lucky her, to be so well fed when everyone else was having to go without. Unless …
Ron didn’t have any sisters and neither did his close friends, but something about the girl’s stance put him in mind of Kathleen when he’d seen her after she and Billy had announced they were going to have a baby. It wasn’t obvious, just the way her centre of gravity had altered. If she hadn’t been at the bar like that, he might not have seen, or thought nothing of it. Now he was on full alert. Was this the consequence of what he and Gladys had witnessed that time in the yard?
‘Hold your horses,’ called the barman, out of Ron’s line of sight.
This seemed to infuriate Evelyn. ‘Don’t you tell me that!’ she shouted. ‘He’s kept me waiting for ages. I know he’s back there. I’m coming round.’ With that she swung open the wooden flap at the end of the bar, through which the barman would come and go when collecting the glasses, and let it crash down again behind her as she disappeared behind the row of optics to wherever the landlord had gone.
Ron turned to Kenny. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Best to stay out of it,’ Kenny advised. ‘It’ll be a private tiff. None of our business.’
‘Yeah, but she’s Gladys’s sister and he’s a bully who’s twice her size,’ Ron pointed out, getting to his feet.
Kenny frowned up at him. ‘What you going to do about it? Come on, sit down, finish your pint, and then it’ll be your round.’
Ron suddenly lost the desire to drink from the murky glass. ‘You have it. I’ll just pop around the back, make sure it’s all right. Don’t worry, there’s a side way through; that Max fellow won’t even know I’m there.’
Kenny looked doubtful but pulled the half-finished pint towards him all the same. A beer was a beer.
Feeling as apprehensive as he had all those months ago with Gladys, Ron edged through the side door and into the storage area. It was much hotter now, and still daylight, although that was fading fast, partly due to the gathering grey clouds. The air was thick and humid, and his shirt was sticking to him. Perhaps Kenny was right, this was none of his business. He could pretend he hadn’t noticed anything, go back to his friend and pass the time of day over a fresh pint, return home and sleep the sleep of the just. Yet he knew he could not.
Out of nowhere there came a scream and the sound of a door banging open.
‘Get out there, don’t you go spreading your filthy lies,’ snarled a male voice, and there was a thud as something or someone fell to the floor. Ron craned his neck to see but there were too many stacked barrels in the way to get a clear view.
‘It’s not a lie!’ cried a woman – Evelyn’s voice by the sound of it. ‘All I need is the money and I can sort it all out. It won’t take no time at all then I can be back good as new, do the concert—’
‘For fuck’s sake there ain’t no concert, not any more. Have you not heard a word I said? I got to make myself scarce around here and I don’t need your lies. You try to get any money from me and you’ll be sorry.’ Another thud, and a whimper from Evelyn.
‘Don’t hurt me,’ she begged. ‘It’s not like that, don’t take on so. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t yours.’
‘How the hell do I know that? I seen how you look at all the men in here. Could be any one of them what got you up the duff. If it’s not just something you cooked up to fleece me.’ Feet shuffled and scraped against the stone floor. Evelyn whimpered again.
‘Let me go. You’re hurting me.’
Max gave a savage gasp. ‘You think I’m hurting you? You call that hurt? I’ll show you what hurt is, you lying bitch.’ He grunted and then Evelyn screamed even more loudly.
Ron twisted around the barrels and had to stop himself groaning in horror as for the first time he got a direct view of the couple. Max was towering over Evelyn, who was lying abjectly on the ground. With another grunt Max swung his leg and his boot connected with her stomach. She tried in vain to shield it with her arms but he pulled at her and landed another kick right in the abdomen. Then another, and yet another. He was beside himself with rage, his eyes almost shut. Evelyn’s screams continued and then abruptly halted, but not before Max had landed one final powerful kick into her crossed arms.
Ron had seen enough. He could not stand by and watch Max tormenting the young girl. He edged around the stacks of barrels, squeezing through the gap to reach the back yard.
‘There, now you won’t spread no more lies.’ Max wiped his hands on his dark trousers, once part of a sharp suit but now dusty and smeared with stains. Then he looked up as Ron emerged into view. ‘Who the bloody hell are you?’
Ron took in the bulk of the man but reckoned he himself was no pushover. He lifted heavy weights all day every day at work. If it came to it, he would give as good as he got. ‘Stay away from her,’ he gasped.
Max snorted in contempt but made no move to attack. He seemed to be weighing his options. Ron took a step towards him and at that the big bully of a man showed his true colours and turned and ran, through the door on the other side of the yard. It slammed hard behind him.
Anxiously Ron slowly approached the figure on the ground. The light was very low now but her pale tunic was clear against the dark stone floor. She was very still. He bent to feel for her pulse, trying to think what Gladys or the nurses would do. ‘Evelyn, can you hear me?’ he asked. ‘Evelyn, wake up.’ Then he saw the slick of blood, shiny and viscous, spreading around her.
It was Gladys’s turn to shut the church hall, and so she methodically went around checking that each gas light was properly turned off, that the supplies were packed away, and finally that the big entrance door was locked. It was heavy, but she tugged on it to make doubly sure. She didn’t want anyone breaking in and stealing their precious medical equipment; it was far from easy to replace at short notice.
She could see that there had been a heavy rain shower. Earlier on there had been a rumble of thunder, and she had been grateful for it, as it had been unbearably humid up until then. Now the air was fresher and colder. She breathed it in deeply.
‘Gladys! Is that you?’ A figure was approaching on a bike, water from the many puddles splashing from the wheels. Whoever it was appeared soaked to the skin. She peered at him in uncertainty.
‘Who is it?’ she called, trying not to be anxious.
‘It’s me, Ronald. Ron. Billy’s mate.’ Ron squealed to a halt, more rainwater spraying up and drenching his trousers, but he paid it no heed. ‘Gladys, you got to come with me. It’s Evelyn, she needs you. She’s being taken to the hospital.’
Gladys almost dropped her bag in shock. ‘What? What’s happened to her?’ She couldn’t tell him her immediate thought: that her sister had gone to one of the backstreet quacks who claimed to have failsafe ways of getting rid of unwanted pregnancies. If that was the case, then it would be her fault. She should have tried harder to help. Fear gripped her throat.
‘I’ll tell you as we go,’ said Ron. ‘Quick, hop on.’
Gladys stared at him, intermittently lit by the arcs of the anti-aircraft beams. ‘I … what?’
‘Hop on. You know. I stand up to pedal, you sit behind me. It’ll be the fastest way.’
Gladys shook her head. ‘I don’t know how.’
Ron was perplexed. ‘What, you never done this after school with your friends?’
‘No,’ said Gladys, reluctant even now to admit that she had had no friends because she had hardly gone to school. Now was not the time for such confessions. It sounded very unsafe, and she’d never had a bike, and besides the roads were soaking wet. Yet how else was she to get to Evelyn? She steeled herself. ‘Show me,’ she said.
Ron took a deep breath. He’d never come across anyone who hadn’t done this before, and these were not ideal conditions in which to begin. Still, it wasn’t as if they had much choice. ‘Sling your bag here with my jacket,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll be able to balance and have both hands to hold on to me.’
Gladys gulped. ‘I have to hold on to you?’
‘Well, yes. How else are you going to stay on? I have to have the handlebars to steer with. So you hold on to me around the waist. Sorry I’m sopping wet – there was a cloudburst as I set off.’
Gladys nodded, seeing there was little alternative. ‘Yes, I heard it.’ She put her bag on his jacket as instructed. ‘All right. I’ll try.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ said Ron, doing his best to sound encouraging. ‘Never mind the rain, eh? It’s just a bit of water.’ He stood up on the pedals and felt her arms go round him. He wouldn’t even think about that, not right now.
‘It’s just a bit of water,’ echoed Gladys, beyond worried now for her sister, but determined to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, no matter what. Slowly and unsteadily, they set off.
Gladys had never been in the hospital at night before. She had had a few first-aid classes there during the daytime, before she finished her Civil Nursing Reserve training, and so she knew her way around. However, nobody in her family had ever been treated here as they could not afford it. All of her mother’s many childbirths had happened at home, usually with Gladys helping out when she was old enough.
Now she tried her best not to be spooked by the shadowy corridors. She was too concerned about Evelyn to think about the state of her jacket and blouse, covered in wet patches from where she had held on to Ron. Somehow they had succeeded in covering the distance to the hospital without falling off the bike. In the back of her mind she had noticed how fit he was, how he had pedalled the weight of both of them as if it were no trouble at all, expertly shifting his balance to counter her clumsy attempts to stay upright. She had never been so close to a man before, and had hardly ever touched one, apart from when performing first aid. Now she had held one around the waist for what felt like a very long time, although the hospital had not been far away.
Ron strode along beside her, making sure she found the right ward. ‘I won’t get in your way,’ he said. ‘I just want to know you’ve found her. Also, if you don’t mind, I would like to know how she is, after … after what I told you I saw.’
Gladys drew in a sharp breath, horrified all over again at what had befallen Evelyn. From that first moment, when Max had abandoned her at the church hall door, she had known he was a bad type, but never in her wildest imaginings had she thought he would do something like this. While a part of her was relieved that her sister had not tried to get rid of the baby in some filthy back street, she was now consumed with worry about what sort of state Evelyn would be in or, worst of all, if she had even survived the attack.
The ward was busy, and Gladys glanced around to check if there were any familiar faces. The hospital was close enough to her house and Victory Walk for somebody to recognise her, or her sister. She would rather no one knew of Evelyn’s condition, for the sake of her sister’s reputation. She wondered which ambulance crew had brought her in and whether the ARP had been involved; there would be a good chance that she would either know them or they would know people she worked with. Once he had summoned help, Ron had set off to find Gladys before anyone had arrived, leaving Kenny to wait for whichever service was nearest.
Thank goodness he had remembered her saying that she worked first-aid shifts at that hall. She didn’t know how she would have found out otherwise. Ron had said that Evelyn had not been able to talk when he’d left – she was still knocked out. Gladys knew she would be forever grateful to him for rescuing the young woman and then coming to find her, in that awful weather on top of everything else. She shivered at what might have happened had he not been there – Evelyn could have been left to bleed to death on that filthy stone floor.
She could not see her sister in any of the beds as they walked down the centre aisle. A nurse came towards them. ‘It’s very late. We don’t receive visitors at this hour,’ she said severely.
Gladys swallowed, a lifetime of obeying the rules telling her that she should turn around and go. However, she stood her ground. ‘I was told my sister is in here and her life is in danger. Evelyn. I am a Civil Reserve nurse myself,’ she added, and was pleased to see that this piece of information carried some weight.
‘I see.’ The nurse paused, and then relented. ‘It is most irregular but, under the circumstances, you had better come with me now. And you are?’ She turned to Ron.
‘A family friend,’ he said, and Gladys cast him a grateful glance. ‘But now you’ve found her I won’t hang around. I got to get back to Ma, she’ll be worrying where I am.’
‘Yes, you go,’ Gladys said, not wanting him to be witness to Evelyn’s sorry state but sad to see him leave nonetheless. The ward nurse swept her along to the bed at the end, curtained off.
‘Be very quiet now,’ the woman said. She reminded Gladys a little of Gwen: old school, stern face, but with an air of complete competence. Her sister would be in good hands here.
The older woman drew back the starchy fabric, which smelt of disinfectant, and Gladys stepped through the gap behind her. There lay Evelyn, her face deathly pale, a big cut on her cheek, and utterly still. Another nurse stood by her pillows, monitoring her pulse. At the foot of the bed stood a doctor, maybe about thirty years of age but with thick glasses perched on the end of his thin nose.
Gladys thought for a moment that she might faint, but then her training took over and she rallied. ‘How is she?’ she asked quietly, her eyes never leaving her sister’s pallid face.
The doctor looked up, and his glasses fell askew. ‘Her sister, also a nurse,’ the first nurse explained.
Gladys could tell the man was very tired, but he was instantly sympathetic. ‘I’m afraid it is not good news,’ he began.
‘Will she … will she …’ Gladys could not manage the words to name her worst fear.
He sighed and turned to face her. ‘Your sister has lost a lot of blood,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I expect you can tell by her colour. However, we have succeeding in stemming the blood loss and her temperature and pulse are improving – is that not the case, Nurse Michaels?’ He glanced to the young woman at the head of the bed, who nodded briefly. ‘And so we may reasonably expect that she will continue to improve. All other factors being well, she should gradually regain consciousness.’ He shook his head. ‘You knew she was pregnant, I take it?’
‘Y-yes.’ Gladys saw no point in denying it.
His eyes darkened. ‘She obviously sustained severe abdominal injuries during her attack. I am very much afraid to tell you we were unable to save the baby.’
Gladys looked down at the floor, the shiny grey lino, the precise hospital corners of the bed sheet. ‘I see,’ she said quietly.
‘Now you mustn’t upset yourself,’ the first nurse said, clearly mistaking Gladys’s lack of fuller response for grief. ‘Maybe it is for the best. To be honest, after tonight, the baby could very well have been extremely damaged, even if it had lived. Perhaps it is better that it and the mother and you yourself were not put through that. As it is, your sister will have known very little about the actual loss. The, er, process. I too am very sorry.’
Gladys felt a lump in her throat. The poor baby. Even if both parents had not wanted it, she would have cared for it somehow. She would have managed. She had just about got used to the idea of a new child in the family, even though it was far from what she had wanted. All the same this would have been Evelyn’s own flesh and blood. It was a tragedy, whichever way you looked at it. She realised that the ward nurse was staring at her and she had to say something. ‘Thank you for trying,’ she croaked, though her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
‘We are as confident as we can be that we will at least save your sister,’ the stern nurse continued, her voice kindly now. ‘You must not fret about her. Now that you have seen her and know what condition she is in, you must be reassured, a member of the medical fraternity like yourself.’
Even in this terrible situation, Gladys’s heart sang at those words. A fellow nurse was acknowledging her training and expertise. Even though she did not feel very professional at the moment, she had been recognised. Evelyn might have scoffed at her but it was that very training that had won her admittance to her sister’s bedside.
‘Yes, I understand,’ she breathed.
‘Perhaps you should go home and rest now that you have seen her,’ the nurse continued. ‘Please leave me your address so that we can contact you if we need to – which I do not anticipate,’ she added quickly. ‘It is purely a formality. Then you may return tomorrow during regular visiting hours. I dare say your sister will be in need of comfort.’
Gladys looked at Evelyn’s face. Maybe she had regained a little of the healthy colour she had boasted these past weeks. She did not know how her sister would react to the news. Nodding, she took her bag and turned away, making her way back through the row of beds and back outside to the starlit hospital entrance.