Alice and Edith sat side by side on Alice’s bed in the small attic room, watching as the late afternoon sunset lit up the rooftops over Dalston. Soon it would be time to draw the curtains and fix the blackout blinds. From outside in the corridor they could hear somebody singing ‘In the meadow we can build a snowman’. – Mary, probably.
‘Do you think it will snow?’ Edith asked.
‘I don’t think so. It’s been overcast, but not with snow clouds.’ She struggled to form the words, still trying to take in what her best friend had just told her.
Edith was having a baby. She knew that this was what Edith wanted, and that she would be a wonderful mother. Harry would take to being a father like a duck to water; you only had to look at how he behaved with Mattie and Kathleen’s children to realise that. He would be in his element; they both would. This child, whether a boy or girl, would be lucky indeed, and would also have the unconditional love of the wider family. Riches could not buy that.
Even so, Alice felt a pang of regret. She had known when Edith married that things would have to change, and yet for months everything had stayed the same. They had gone on their rounds, compared notes in the evenings, cheered each other up or commiserated when needed. There was nothing quite like talking over a case with Edith. There wasn’t anything wrong with the other nurses, but because they had trained together for so long, she didn’t have to explain as much. Edith would immediately know what she meant and how to help if there was a problem. So much that happened between them simply went without saying.
Alice had never had a sister; she was an only child. Edith had had an older sister whom she had adored, but Teresa had died while Edith was still young, and she had never quite got over it. Somehow this brought them closer together still; they were more like sisters than friends, Alice realised. They told each other nearly everything, secure in the knowledge that the other one would not back away, no matter what was said. She could not remember ever seriously falling out. They were very different in background and character but it had never mattered.
Now everything between them would alter. Edith’s focus would be quite rightly on the baby, and her love of nursing would have to move aside. Alice felt a moment of panic. How would she cope without Edith here beside her? She had never done this job without the steadfast, ongoing support of her best friend, closest confidante, and the nurse whom she would trust above all others in a crisis.
‘You all right, Al?’ Edith turned sideways to regard her friend. ‘Did I take you by surprise there?’
Alice gave herself a shake. ‘Maybe. But not really,’ she said slowly. ‘Now I come to think of it, you’ve been a bit pale these last few weeks. I thought it was that cold you caught refusing to go away. I was going to ask if you needed to take a tonic or something like that. And we haven’t sat together for lunch for ages – you’ve been skipping it, haven’t you?’
Edith shrugged and then grinned. ‘I had to. The smell of food made me queasy. I’m all right with dry toast or anything like that, but those stews … ugggh. It was safer to stay away and then quickly make a snack in the service room. I didn’t want to say until I was sure, though.’
‘Quite right.’ Alice couldn’t quite meet her eyes.
Edith cocked her head to one side. ‘You don’t mind, do you? You’re happy for me?’
Alice nodded. ‘Of course I am. No, I really am.’ She took a breath. ‘I’ll miss you though. That’s the shock, knowing that you won’t be here.’
‘Oh, Al. Don’t be silly. I won’t be going very far.’ Edith gave her friend a heartfelt look. ‘I’m going to go to live at Jeeves Street, when the time comes to leave here. But I’m going to nurse right up to the last moment. I love nursing, you know that.’
‘I do.’ Alice’s face relaxed a little. ‘It’s what makes us what we are, isn’t it? And it changes us, being nurses. We have to deal with situations that many people don’t realise exist. We can’t go into a flap or just guess at what to do. Our patients rely on us. It’s important.’
‘Exactly.’ Edith nodded vigorously. ‘None of that will change, Al. We’ll still be the same people. It’s just – well, there’ll be another one to think of.’
‘Maybe she’ll be a nurse.’
‘Maybe she will. Boy or girl, you’ll be godmother, won’t you?’
Alice’s face finally softened. ‘Of course. Anything you ask, Edith.’
Edith shifted along the bed a little and hugged her friend. ‘I know,’ she said.