Gracie’s fears that Patsy would be leaving the nest were laid to rest when her daughter was accepted for training in Aberdeen at Foresterhill Hospital. It did mean that the girl had to be away from home if she was on night duty but otherwise it wasn’t so different from when she was working in the office.
Patsy, of course, did not tell her mother about the hardships she had to suffer as a probationer, and it was Queenie who was her confidante. ‘You wouldn’t believe how strict the sisters and staff nurses are,’ she told her cousin one night. ‘Before any of the doctors or consultants make their rounds, the beds have to be as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Once they’re made, we’ve to watch like hawks in case the patients move and make creases in the top covers. You’d think it was our fault, though we don’t get told off until after the doctor’s away.’
‘Why don’t you say it was the patient that did it?’
‘It wouldn’t make any difference. Everything we do is wrong. If we get a stain on our aprons, it’s a crime, and we’ve to go and change aprons and cuffs every time the doctors come round, whether they’re dirty or not. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing going in for nursing. I’m just a glorified wardmaid running with bedpans, cleaning up sickness and up to my elbows in hot water most of the time, but it can’t last for ever.’
‘At least you’re doing something,’ Queenie sighed. ‘I’m at a loose end just now. All the exams are past but I won’t know if I’ll be going to varsity until the results come out in July. I hope, sometimes, that I don’t pass. I’d go into an office till April, when I’ll be eighteen, then I’d go into the forces.’
Patsy laughed, ‘Over Mum’s dead body, if I know her.’
‘I wouldn’t mind being a WAAF. I thought Raymond looked quite smart in his RAF uniform when he was home after his training.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re falling for him?’
‘Oh, no.’ Queenie hesitated, then said, ‘It’s Neil I care for and I thought he felt the same about me until he was here last time. Didn’t you notice how he avoided speaking to me? I don’t know why he changed, but I’ve a sneaking feeling Olive had a lot to do with it.’
‘There’s been something queer about her for a while,’ Patsy said, thoughtfully. ‘Since before Raymond went away first, and I thought they were kind of wary with each other all the time he was home. Maybe he’s not scared to tell her what he thinks of her nowadays.’
‘Maybe she’s jealous of him being in the RAF?’
‘She’d never want to go into the forces,’ Patsy smiled. ‘She couldn’t stand it, she’s had things too easy.’
Why was he lying on the ground? How long had he been here? What had happened? Lifting his head a fraction – it was agony to move – Neil saw the crumpled Norton on the opposite bank and it all came back to him. It was funny how he had been flung one way in the accident and the bike the other, was that how it always happened? But what had hit him? No other vehicle was in his line of vision, so he swivelled his eyes to the left, then right, and at last he spotted the cause of the trouble – a huge oil drum, dented but not leaking as far as he could tell. The motor bike had come off worse – bits of it were scattered all over the place. He’d be for the high jump when he got back to camp, if he ever got back. His entire body was one excruciating ache and the slightest movement of his legs . . .
He slipped into unconsciousness again and when he came round for the second time he decided it would be best to lie still. He had no idea how badly he was hurt but this road was usually quite busy, so somebody should come along soon. He strained his ears for the sound of traffic, but all he heard was a grasshopper clicking away like mad, and the cooing of a wood pigeon calling to its mate. The sun was beating down on him – he could end up with sunstroke, as well as everything else.
Think. He must keep thinking, about anything at all, to keep him from drifting away again. Surely Alf would be wondering why he hadn’t gone back? Yes, he’d come looking and if he didn’t come himself he’d send somebody else. Good old Alf! But . . . what if he was too busy to notice? The Scammel he was working on was a hefty job. It could take hours. Damn and blast it! Why didn’t anybody come? He would still be here tomorrow at this rate.
The sweat trickling down his face annoyed him suddenly, so he made to wipe it away. His right arm was so stiff that it was an effort to raise it but he finally succeeded. Oh God, it wasn’t sweat – it was blood! Well, it wasn’t surprising. He was likely a bloody mess all over . . . a bloody mess, that’s a good one! The whole business was a bloody mess. How bad was he? His right arm was working – just – but what about his left? Lifting it was a bit tricky but he didn’t think it was broken. He would try his legs again. Oh no, he couldn’t move them! Were they paralysed? No, he wouldn’t feel that terrible pain if they were paralysed. Smashed or broken?
‘Are you badly hurt?’
It was a girl’s voice, soft and gentle. Whoever she was, she was as welcome as the flowers in May. Neil tried to focus his eyes properly but it was too much of an effort so he gave up.
‘Your face is cut, but there’s so much blood it’s difficult to know where. I’ll mop it up with my hankie so I can see.’
‘I . . . think . . . my legs . . . are busted.’ Trying to move them, he passed out again and when he resurfaced, the girl was still intent on cleaning the blood from his face. He could see her better now, in close up. Her skin was creamy peach shading into the delicate rose of her cheeks; her hair, almost the colour of burnished copper, was smooth and curling under at the ends; her eyes, looking briefly into his before they dropped to attend to his wounds again, were the darkest brown he had ever seen. What an angel! But he wasn’t really interested in girls, he reminded himself, not in any serious way . . . not after . . .
The gentle wiping touched a raw spot. ‘Ouch!’
‘I’m sorry. Your cheek is badly cut, as well as your nose. I didn’t see it at first. Look, I’ve got my bike. Will you be all right if I go and phone for an ambulance? I won’t be long.’
He was about to say that he’d be fine when a rumbling noise made him stop to listen and the girl jumped to her feet. ‘It’s a lorry. I’ll ask the driver to get them to send an ambulance when he gets back to camp.’
That thing’ll never make it back to camp, Neil thought – it was rattling like an old tin can – but she was already in the middle of the road flagging it down with both hands. When it drew up, she talked excitedly to the driver who jumped out and came over to the side. ‘What’s up, mate? Have an accident?’
Neil managed a grin. ‘No thanks, I’ve just . . .
‘. . . had one,’ finished the driver, laughing. ‘Can you walk?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘He thinks his legs are broken,’ the girl put in.
‘I’d better not try moving you then. I’ll get them to send an ambulance.’
‘Thanks.’ Neil relaxed as the lorry moved off. He’d likely have a long wait, knowing the army, but he couldn’t get up and walk away. He was as weak as a new-born kitten, his head was pounding like a sledgehammer and he was desperately cold.
‘You’re shivering.’ The girl looked down compassionately. ‘I suppose it’s shock. I’d better wait till the ambulance comes.’
‘There’s no need.’ But his protest was unconvincing.
‘Don’t argue. By the way, what’s your name?’
‘Neil Ferris.’
‘I’m Freda Cuthbert. My dad has the market garden about half a mile up the road.’
‘I’ve . . . seen . . .’ Reaction had caught up on him now, making it difficult to think clearly enough to speak coherently.
Noticing his discomfort, Freda kept talking, ‘I work with my dad, but I’ve just come from his sister’s. She’s sprained her ankle, and she phoned to ask if I’d take her some potatoes. She’s not too bad, really, but she can’t put any weight on her foot so I tidied up a bit, and peeled a few of the spuds. She had some meat left from yesterday so I didn’t need to cook for her and she wouldn’t let me do anything else.’
She paused briefly, obviously thinking what else to say. ‘I’d better tell you something about myself, now. I’ll be twenty in August, I’ve still got all my own teeth, and I’ve never had a perm. I registered along with my age group but I’m working on the land already so they didn’t want me.’
She stopped again to look at him. ‘I’m not bothering you, am I?’ His faint headshake reassured her. ‘I don’t usually talk so much but I was afraid for a while there that you were going to pass out on me again. You’re not, are you? Good. I don’t go out much in the evenings, though my dad’s always telling me I should go to the dances. I’m a bit shy, you see. Maybe you’ll find this hard to believe but I’ve never spoken to a stranger before. Some of the soldiers whistle at me if they see me in the fields and one or two stop and try to chat me up but I pretend not to hear, and they go away.’
Neil wondered why her voice was fading and prayed that he wasn’t going to sink under again, but that wasn’t what it was. In a great, shaming rush, his stomach gave up its contents and he was unable to keep it back. Worse, it was so unexpected that he had no time to turn his head, even if he could, which was doubtful, so the vomit went all down his front.
When he stopped retching, Freda laid a cool, soothing hand on his clammy brow. ‘Do you feel better now?’ He was too exhausted even to nod, so she said, ‘I’ll clean you up, but my hankie’s covered with blood, so I’ll have to take yours, wherever it is. Don’t move, Neil, I’ll find it.’
The breast pocket of his overalls yielded only bits of paper, scraps of pencils and a few washers, so she dug her hand into his left trouser pocket but had to try the other one before she pulled out a grubby, khaki handkerchief. ‘It’s a bit oily, but I don’t suppose it’ll matter.’
Before she started, she used some dock leaves to get off the worst of the mess, then rubbed hard with the handkerchief for a few minutes. ‘That’ll have to do. The smell won’t go away until your boiler suit’s had a good wash.’
The ambulance arrived then, and she stood aside until the two men lifted him on to a stretcher, but the movement jarred him so much that he lost consciousness once again.
He came round in hospital. At first, his mind was a blur but little by little it came back to him – the crash, the pain, the oil drum, the girl. The girl? Was she real, or was she part of a delirious dream he’d had? No, she was definitely real. She’d said her name was Freda Cuthbert and she stayed with him until the ambulance came, talking, but he couldn’t remember much of what she’d said. A market garden? Her father owned the market garden along the road. It was funny he’d never seen her but he would likely have been going too fast to notice. He would have to go and thank her once he was out of here.
‘You’re with us now, are you?’ A smiling young nurse, her red cheeks shining, was standing beside him. ‘Your legs have been set, one was broken in three places, but don’t try to move much yet. Your whole body’s had a shake-up, and you’ve had a nasty crack on your nose. That’s the bad news, but the good news is that your girlfriend’s waiting to see you. Will I send her in?’
‘My girlfriend?’
He looked so puzzled that the nurse laughed. ‘She didn’t say she was your girlfriend, I just thought she must be for she’s been here for hours. Her name’s Freda, if that means anything?’
‘She’s the girl who found me. Do I look presentable?’
‘Apart from a couple of black eyes and the dressings on your nose and cheek, you’re fine. I’ll tell her you’ve come round.’
Freda walked into the ward a moment later. ‘How are you?’
‘Not too bad, considering. Did you come in the ambulance with me? You shouldn’t have waited but thanks for everything.’
‘I wanted to know how badly you were hurt, so I cycled after the ambulance, and I’m only allowed to stay a minute . . . would it be OK if I come back when you’re fit for visitors?’
‘I’d like that, but don’t feel obliged to come.’
‘I want to.’
As soon as Freda went out, Neil closed his eyes. The allotted minute had been long enough for him but he was grateful to her for waiting. He was sure she wasn’t one of those girls who were just out for what they could get but he hoped that she hadn’t felt sorry for him, or responsible for him because she had been first on the scene of his accident. He had vowed never to get attached to any girl after Queenie but he wouldn’t complain if Freda wanted to be more than a friend.
Gracie hadn’t even reached the end of Neil’s latest letter when she looked up in alarm. ‘He’s had an accident on a motor bike,’ she told Joe. ‘Only a broken leg and scratches on his face, he says, but maybe he’s just saying that to save me worrying.’
‘If he’s able to write, he can’t be that bad,’ Joe pointed out, quite reasonably.
‘But he’ll have nobody to visit him, away down there.’
‘He’s got pals, and he’ll be enjoying the attention he’ll get from all the young nurses.’
Neither of them noticed how Queenie had reacted. Her face had blanched at the mention of his accident, her fingers plucked at the tablecloth in agitation. Joe glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and jumped up. ‘I never noticed the time, I should be away.’ He turned as he went out. ‘Don’t worry, Gracie, lass. A broken leg’ll soon mend.’
Gracie looked across at her niece. ‘What d’you think? Is Neil telling me everything?’
Queenie stood up. ‘I hope so. I’ll have to hurry too.’
As she ran down the stairs, she wished that she could go to see Neil, to find out how he was, but he would likely refuse to see her, if the way he’d treated her last time he was home was anything to go by. He could be dying for all she knew, and she would never find out what had gone wrong between them . . . but he had written to his mother, so he couldn’t be dying. The thought did comfort her a little, but she realised that he might still be badly injured and it would be a long time before he was fit enough to come home again.
When a letter from Olive arrived, Neil was tempted not to open it, but curiosity got the better of him.
2 July, 1942
Dear Neil,
I have just heard about your smash and I hope you are feeling better. It must be awful to be lying in hospital in this lovely weather and I wish I could be there to cheer you up. The only thing I can do is to write to you more often so expect a daily visit from the postie. Your mother said your leg was broken and that you just had a few scratches on your face, but I know they wouldn’t keep you in very long with just a broken leg. I’m an embryo doctor, remember, so you can tell me, and I promise not to let it go any further. I expect they will let you come home as soon as you can walk but you won’t be fit for dancing for a while. Ho, hum, there’s always the pictures.
How did your accident happen? I know you were on a motor bike, but did something run into you, or was it vice versa? Your mother said that the girl who found you has been visiting you every day. Watch yourself there, Neil. You’re still recovering from shock and it would be easy to get stupid ideas in your head. Don’t take long to answer this, because I’m anxious to hear how you are.
Regards, Olive.
She was quite goodhearted in her own way, Neil thought, laying the letter down at his side and stretching across to his locker for his writing pad and pen. She had certainly changed for the better lately. There was nothing out of place in what she had written and she was bound to be curious about his health when she was studying medicine. She had likely sent her last letter with the best of intentions, for she couldn’t have had any idea of how he felt about Queenie at the time.
Dear Olive,
Thanks for your welcome letter. Don’t tell my mother, but my right leg was broken in three places and my left leg had an ordinary, straightforward break. I’d some scratches and cuts on my face but I’ll only be left with little marks, so I’ll still be as handsome as ever, says me. Like you said, I won’t be doing any dancing for a while but it’s not the end of the world, is it?
By the way, Freda’s a really nice girl, so I won’t need to watch myself like you warned me. I’ll stop now, for I’m still a bit weak and I get easily tired.
As always, Neil
He addressed an envelope, then read the letter over and added a postscript. ‘I bet you’ll be surprised at getting a letter from me by return.’
Long before the afternoon visiting time, his eyes were drawn to the door of the ward and the stream of nurses scuttling in and out with bedpans had his spirits leaping and sinking like the scenic railway at Aberdeen, and just as he thought that he would have a heart attack from the strain of waiting, a sister fixed the doors back to let the visitors in. Luckily for Neil’s heart, Freda was one of the first to enter and as she sat down at his bedside, she lifted the letter he had written. ‘Do you want me to post this for you?’ She gave it a quick glance, then asked, ‘Is it to your girlfriend?’
‘Olive’s my cousin,’ he answered, a little stiffly.
Taken aback at his tone, she said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey.’
He stretched out his hand to her. ‘No, I’m sorry. It was just . . . I didn’t want you to think I’d a girlfriend.’ Noticing that she seemed happier at that, he relaxed, but wished he’d the courage to tell her that he wouldn’t mind having her as his girlfriend. It was too soon for that, in any case, so it was as well to keep their relationship light.
Neil’s next letter eased his mother’s mind – and his cousin’s – about his wellbeing but raised other doubts. ‘He’s going on about a girl now,’ Gracie told Joe, in some concern. ‘Listen to this. “Freda visits me every day. She’s the girl who found me after the accident. She even cycled to the hospital behind the ambulance and waited till I was out of the anaesthetic so she could come in and see if I was all right.” What do you make of that?’ she appealed.
‘Is that all?’ Joe smiled. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting all worked up for. She likely feels a bit responsible for him and she just goes to make sure he’s recovering.’
‘You can’t see past the end of your nose!’ Gracie declared, a little annoyed at him for making light of her worry. She turned to Queenie now, ‘I bet she’s after him.’ Her niece’s woebegone expression made her wish that she had held her tongue.
‘He’ll be glad of her visits,’ the girl said forlornly.
‘Aye, like enough, and I’ll read the rest out to you, for he doesn’t say any more about her. “I’ll likely be here for a few weeks yet but don’t worry. My leg’s mending nicely, the doctors say, and I’ll just be left with a wee mark on my nose. It could have been an awful lot worse. I hope you and Dad are keeping well, and not working too hard. Love, Neil.” He sounds cheery enough.’ Gracie glanced at Queenie again and was pleased that her colour was returning though she was still a bit pale.
Queenie felt hurt that Neil hadn’t even mentioned her in his letter, and wondered if Gracie had been right in thinking that Freda was after him, but probably not. It was natural for her to visit him, when she had seen the state he must have been in after the accident. Any decent girl would do the same and it would stop after he got out of hospital.
With his nervous system not fully recovered from the accident, Neil was ripe for overresponding to any sort of kindness and Freda’s daily visits had come to mean a great deal to him. She was completely different from either of his cousins – not full of arrogant self-confidence like Olive nor bubbling with life like Queenie – but her quiet, almost shy, manner was as balm to his buffeted spirits and he sang her praises to Alf Melville every time he went to the hospital.
‘I think I can smell love in the air,’ Alf smirked one day, about six weeks after the accident.
‘Nothing of the kind,’ Neil blustered then gave a chuckle. ‘Maybe you’re right. I think I love her, but I don’t know how she feels about me.’
Having met the girl on several occasions, Alf’s grin widened. ‘She’s bats about you. I’ve never seen a more sickening case of love with the lid on and that goes for you, as well. Put her out of her misery, Neil, lad, before I’ve to knock your stupid heads together.’
Lying back after his friend went out, Neil concluded that he didn’t just think, he was so deeply in love with Freda that he couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing her again after he got out of hospital. He would have to find out if Alf’s assessment of her was true, that she was ‘bats about him’. He would have to risk being rebuffed, but he couldn’t go on without knowing one way or the other.
‘Did you have Alf in last night?’
Neil was too keyed-up to make small talk. ‘Freda,’ he burst out loudly, oblivious to everyone around them, ‘I love you, and I want to know if you love me.’
‘Ssh!’ Her cheeks pink, she looked around to see if any of the people making their way to other beds had heard but it was the patient in the bed next to Neil who said, ‘Go on, then, do you love him? I can’t bear this suspense.’
Scarlet now, she nodded shyly and Neil’s triumphant yell was followed by his neighbour’s sigh. ‘Thank God. Maybe now we’ll all get some peace.’
‘I’m so embarrassed,’ Freda whispered.
He grabbed her hand. ‘I’m not. I’m so happy I could shout it from the rooftops.’
‘You nearly did.’
‘I suppose I can’t kiss you in here?’
‘I should think not. You’ve made a big enough exhibition of us already.’
She sounded so serious that he said, ‘Are you angry with me?’
‘Not really. It was just so unexpected but I’m glad we got it sorted out. We could have gone on and on without knowing.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
They held hands until it was time for her to leave. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she smiled, as she stood up, then leaned forward and kissed his brow. ‘Will that do, darling?’
‘It’ll do to be going on with.’ He watched her walking away, and returned the wave she gave him before she turned into the corridor, then he lay back, smiling contentedly. She had called him ‘darling’! He had never felt like this before, never in his entire life. It was true that every cloud had a silver lining. If he hadn’t smashed himself up, he would never have met Freda.