As Archie handed May off the gangway he noticed her leather gloves.
‘For goodness’ sake, May, the day’s sweltering, take your gloves off. We ditched ours ages ago, and Aunt Ju isn’t here to scold you.’
May hesitated, but it was hot, so she obediently slipped them off – then wished she hadn’t when she saw the men’s eyes on her short, stubby fingernails and red, work-hardened hands. She curled them up and said defensively, ‘It’s the carbolic – we use so much.’
‘Oh come on, May, we know you spent all morning scrubbing bedpans and other unmentionables.’ Archie was amused. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t tell Aunt Julia you removed your gloves in the presence of gentlemen.’
‘Just one gentleman, Archie.’
Walter said smoothly, ‘I’m sorry your opinion of me is still so low, Miss Winton! Here, give me those, I’ll put them in my pocket. I thought Archie would be interested in the dry dock, but it’s some distance – are you well shod, Miss Winton?’
‘Yes, certainly.’
Archie murmured in May’s ear, ‘Best boots and silk stockings!’
May stepped back squarely onto her cousin’s toe. ‘You are a beast, Archie!’
Walter Lisle’s agreement was heartfelt. ‘Your remarks can be singularly ill-timed, Winton.’
Archie protested. ‘I say, Tate, that’s a bit steep, when I’m doing you a favour!’
Walter Lisle hurriedly began to tell them about the proposed establishment of a Port of London Authority to administer all the Docks.
Their route took them over the dock entrance, and Walter looked suddenly worried at the narrowness of the footway above the sheer drop.
‘Would you rather we stayed on this side, Miss Winton?’
‘Of course not,’ May retorted, ‘I can swim, you know.’ She stepped lightly and sure-footedly over the gates, gazing down at the brown water so far below without a qualm.
There was a large ship in the dry dock, and men were working on it at the far end. The descent to the depths was by a flight of slimy stone steps; May, determined to miss no experience on this adventurous afternoon climbed steadily down. Archie was amazed at the size of the exposed hull; he moved forward eagerly.
‘I’ll ask those fellows what they’re doing.’ He was off along the concrete bottom. May, following, walked into the damp shadows by the chocks. She stopped, and, head tipped back, stared up at the sheer blank sides soaring to the far-off sky. As she gazed up at the massive hull above her it seemed to start shimmering, it began to quiver – it was moving, poised to topple over and fall, and crush them utterly! She gasped and stepped jerkily back; she stood shaking, desperately fighting the urge to turn on her heel and flee and throw herself at the treacherous stone steps to scramble frantically up to the warm blue sky above.
Then, as she stood trembling, she felt firm hands grip her arms, holding her still, and Walter Lisle’s voice, low and calming, murmured, ‘Steady, May, steady. It’s all right now.’ And he held her until the fear passed, and her body sagged with relief.
She felt weak, and shaken, and foolish. ‘I am sorry – I was being stupid.’
His voice, close to her ear, was gentle. ‘Don’t be silly, it can be very frightening. I was terrified the first time I came down here – I should have remembered.’
May didn’t believe him, but was grateful. He said, ‘If you’re ready, I’ll take you up again. We’ll leave Archie to explore.’
May looked, and saw her cousin’s slim back in earnest conversation with the workmen at the far end, where the hull was being painted. She nodded.
‘Yes please, I’m all right now.’ But she was grateful for Walter’s presence behind her, and his firm hold on her elbow as they went up the slippery steps. They reached the top and stepped on to the stone dock side. Her legs were trembling from the effort of making her muscles obey her. She gave a small sigh and leant against her companion’s shoulder for a brief, comforting moment.
Then she moved away, saying, ‘Pride goes before a fall – it serves me right for boasting at the lock gates. I do feel an idiot.’
‘Well, nobody noticed.’ His voice was comforting, and they stood in companionable silence, waiting for Archie, together in the warm sun.
Archie arrived panting and almost dishevelled, his hands smeared reddish brown.
I say, May, it’s fascinating. I never knew ships’ hulls needed so much attention.’
‘Whatever have you got on your hands, Archie?’
‘Compo, May – anti-fouling composition, they put it on. Smell it, it beats carbolic hollow! Where are we going now, Tate?’
‘We’ll go to Brunswick Wharf.’ Walter’s voice was decided. ‘It’s one of the finest views on the Thames.’
They picked their way over the quayside to the wharf. Walter pointed down river.
‘That’s Bugsby’s Reach.’
May gazed spellbound at the glittering, sparkling, swelling water, as they stood on the very brink of the river with the damp cool smell of mud in their nostrils and the soft soothing sound of the small waves against the wharf in their ears. The river was busy, and Walter began to pick out those craft he could name, and guess at where they had come from and where they were bound, but it was soon clear that his favourites were the big Thames barges.
‘Look at them, at rest they’re almost ugly with their great flat hulls, but on the water they’re so graceful – they dance to the tune of the breeze.’
May looked at his face, young and entranced in the sunlight, as he gazed at the sails. Suddenly, he seized her hand.
‘Look, look at that one, beyond the tug, there, see how it’s using the wind to turn against the tide. The helmsmen are so skilful, they work with the wind and the water, instead of fighting it, like those greasy, noisy tugs.’
Then he came back to Brunswick Wharf again and realised where he was, and released her hand as suddenly as he had taken it. May felt her fingers tingling with the force of his grip.
The afternoon seemed timeless to May as they stood watching the shining river with its myriad craft – swooping, gliding, chugging to and fro in front of them. Even Archie was silent. Then Walter took out his watch and said, ‘We’ll have to go back soon. I have a meeting with my churchwardens tonight.’
The spell was broken. May turned reluctantly away from the swift river and back towards the city behind them.
‘I wondered whether you would both care to be my guests for tea. Mrs Lewis has baked a special cake for you, Miss Winton, to thank you for looking after Hetty – she’ll be very disappointed if you don’t come. You will, won’t you?’
May remembered the last time she’d had tea at the Vicarage, and hesitated, but Walter’s face was pleading, and she didn’t want the afternoon to end, so she smiled her agreement and Archie said, ‘Come on, May, I’m hungry and don’t pretend you’re not – I’ll never believe it.’
They made their way back to the Dock entrance, May still gazing interestedly about her. The men competed to summon the first cab, but as they tumbled in May noticed her bare hands.
‘My gloves, please, Mr Lisle.’ He retrieved them from his pocket and handed them over.
Archie expostulated. ‘For goodness’ sake, May, as if it matters. Tate’s place isn’t Buck House, you know.’ But his tone was indulgent and he explained to Walter Lisle, ‘If you knew my aunt you’d understand why May is so proper. Her step-mother fed her pages of etiquette books for breakfast every morning, toasted, and spread with butter and marmalade.’ After a moment May joined in the laughter of the men.
As they alighted from the cab May surveyed the vicarage with interest – after all, she’d scarcely had time to get a good look at it on the previous occasion. It really was a rather unprepossessing house, but quite large – Walter Lisle must rattle around in it on his own. Then she looked even more intently at the tall, yellow brick building beside it. So this was Walter’s church; she wondered what it was like inside.
The maid opened the door with a warm smile, but as they stepped inside May couldn’t help feeling that a good session with a scrubbing brush and a bucket of soapy water would have improved the paintwork in the hall: the house bore the unmistakable signs of a bachelor occupant. She cringed slightly before entering the drawing room again but Shadrak, torn ear waving, leapt up from the sofa and purred round Walter’s legs. May bent down to stroke him, glad of the distraction. As she straightened up her attention was caught by a big bowl of peonies on the table. Walter saw the direction of her gaze and looked gratified; May had already guessed from the geometrical arrangement of the flowers that he had been responsible. She walked over and delicately touched the pink petals.
‘How beautiful!’ Walter smiled at her pleasure.
‘I say, May, that animal seems to know you!’ May cursed Archie’s sharp eye as she bent over to pick up the traitorous tom cat, and hide her blushes in his fur.
Walter, rather pink, hastily took Archie off to show him some object at the other end of the room, and gave May time to recover herself. After all, whatever had passed between her and Mrs Tranter, it was she whom Walter was now entertaining to tea, not the rabbit-nosed Agnes.
Archie ranged around the room, examining the ornaments, seeming unaware of the dusty smudges left on his hands as a result. He put a model of a sailing barge back on the mantelpiece, saying, ‘Not at all bad, Tate. So you’re still whittling away?’
‘Oh, did you make that, Mr Lisle?’ May jumped up and went to inspect the small craft. ‘Why, it’s very good!’
Walter Lisle looked self-conscious. ‘It’s just a hobby. I find it difficult to sleep in this hot weather, and I don’t fancy reading theology books all the time,’ he finished with a smile.
May looked at him, and realised that in some ways his life must be a very lonely one, cut off as he was from his own clan by living in the East End. After all, she had her friends in the same building, and a host of colleagues to work with, but Walter Lisle could scarcely spend his evenings chatting to Mrs Lewis.
‘Do you have curates, Mr Lisle?’
He smiled. ‘Yes indeed, three. I don’t know what I’d do without them.’ She felt oddly relieved by his reply.
The tea tray arrived and May poured. The crockery and cutlery were very clean, she was glad to notice; they saw enough cases of food poisoning in the East End without the young vicar of St Barnabas’ being carried in with it. Not that he’d ever be a patient in St Katharine’s – a private nurse would be the order of the day, and then, no doubt, his fond Mamma would whisk him off to Shropshire, pale and weak. Walter was looking at her in a rather puzzled way, and May realised that her scenario was really rather premature – he looked in excellent health. Indeed, when she looked at him with a professional eye she could see he was a superb specimen of the young, healthy male.
‘More tea, Mr Lisle?’
‘Thank you, Miss Winton.’ He held out his cup to her.
Archie rattled on as usual, and May and Walter Lisle were content to listen, with only brief interjections. Then May glanced at the green marble clock on the mantelpiece. Walter, watching her, asked, ‘I thought this was your half-day off, Miss Winton. You’re not on duty again today, are you?’
May could not tell a direct lie. She said lightly, ‘The sick staff nurse on Elizabeth has recovered, so I’ve been transferred.’
He raised enquiring eyebrows and she had to continue. ‘I’m starting on Abraham and Sarah Wards – tonight.’
His head jerked up. ‘Tonight! You mean you’re on night duty?’ May nodded. ‘Miss Winton, you should be in bed; or were you able to sleep this morning?’
May shook her head. ‘Oh no, I worked this morning, until midday – it’s quite usual, you know. We are supposed to go to bed then, but I have difficulty in sleeping when I’m on nights, and I never can beforehand, especially as I’m still on the day nurses’ corridor until tomorrow. I’d have just lain there in this sweltering heat, getting more and more depressed – all the lovely fresh air from the river and the exercise has been the best thing possible.’ Her voice was decided, and Walter Lisle ceased to argue; but she could see he was still concerned. so she exerted herself to make it quite clear that she was full of energy, and longing to go back on the wards tonight. She almost convinced herself.
At six o’clock Archie said he must be making tracks shortly, so May left the two men together while she ran downstairs to have a word with Mrs Lewis.
Back in the hallway, she turned to Walter Lisle and asked, rather shyly, ‘I wonder, would you mind showing us round your church before we leave? I’d like to see it, and Archie’s not in a hurry: he never is.’
Walter Lisle was clearly pleased. He took them through the small garden, past the dehydrated shrubs and into the shadows of the church porch. Inside it was cool and dim, but as her eyes became accustomed to the change in light May realised that it was very different from the churches she was used to. Even the hospital chapel had a sense of age about it, but this was obviously very new and raw. The pews were a sickly yellow pitch pine, and the tiles on the floor a jarring red. Yet it had a sense of purpose, for all its newness: it felt like a church which was used, as if the cheerful, Sunday-morning-best-clothes-from-the-pawnshop throng of East End worshippers had only just left, and would be in again soon.
May walked down the aisle and studied the ornate metal screen, then turned to the pulpit, and tried to visualise Walter there, in his cassock, preaching to a Cockney congregation.
He misunderstood her interest and said, ‘Yes, it is rather well-carved, isn’t it?’ She saw that it was: simple, but with firm, bold lines.
She lowered her gaze to the lectern. ‘What a splendid eagle!’ The bird’s eye was commanding, the beak savagely curved and the talons of the great claws looked completely lifelike as they gripped the brass sphere.
Walter laughed. ‘He’s rather fat, though, isn’t he? I’m not sure he’ll ever be able to fly.’
‘Of course he will, you wait – one Sunday morning in the middle of matins he’ll suddenly flap his great wings and soar away up to the roof, and perch screaming on the rafters!’
Walter laughed and patted the arched neck. ‘I can’t allow that, old boy – you’ll have to stay on your perch, where you’re needed.’
Archie’s voice was indignant. ‘What are you two going on about? The thing’s made of brass!’
Walter looked at May and gave the ghost of a wink. Then he said soothingly, ‘Don’t worry, Archie, I’ll keep it securely chained up.’
Walter was going to set out to summon a cab from South Bromley station but May said firmly, ‘Archie and I can perfectly well walk to the cab rank, Mr Lisle, if you’ll just point us in the right direction.’
‘Then I’ll come with you, to see you safely installed – I don’t want you getting lost. Archie doesn’t know the East End.’
‘But I do, Mr Lisle.’ Then May remembered her experiences of several months back, and stopped protesting.
As Archie secured the cab May turned to their host. ‘I have enjoyed myself this afternoon. Thank you so much, Mr Lisle.’
‘The pleasure has been mine, Miss Winton.’ He paused, then asked, ‘When you are on night duty, do you work every night?’
‘Until we finish, then we get three nights off, but I usually sleep through the first twenty-four hours.’
‘So there won’t be any more dinner parties at Arlington Street?’
‘No, the Season will be over by the time I’m on days again.’
He seemed to be searching for words, when Archie thumped him on the shoulder.
‘It’s been a most interesting experience, Tate old man. Can’t get over that dry dock, it made quite an impression on me.’ Walter Lisle flicked a glance in May’s direction; she shivered. Archie continued unheeding, ‘I’ll have to look into this shipping business, perhaps it’s the career I’ve been looking for. Can you fix me up with a job, May?’
Walter Lisle said, ‘Frears are shipbuilders, Archie, not ship-owners. You’ve got a lot to learn.’
Archie was as irrepressible as ever. ‘There’s time, I’m only a youngster. Come on May, I want a quick canter in the Park before dinner.’
May looked back at Walter as her cousin hauled her into the cab. ‘Goodbye, Mr Lisle, and thank you again.’
Walter hung on to the door as the driver started to close it. ‘Thank you, for the pleasure of your company.’ He paused, then as the driver looked impatient he slowly drew back, saying, ‘If there is ever anything else I can do for you, Miss Winton, do please ask me.’
The door shut with a little click. Walter drew back and lifted his hand in salute. May raised hers in reply. Archie said, ‘There you are, May, there’s your chance. Ask him to put up a quick prayer that Chef will decide to do what that chap Soyer did – you know, in the Crimea – and dedicate his life to feeding the starving nurses of St Katharine’s. Tate’s a powerful prayer, you know.’
May said sharply, ‘Oh shut up, Archie.’ She threw herself back on her seat. Archie looked at her closely. Then he patted her hand. ‘Not looking forward to nights, are you old thing? I know, it always knocks you sideways, I’ve seen it before.’
‘Yes, yes you’re right Archie. I don’t want to go on night duty tonight.’