Word of the events at Dunkirk soon spread. There were plenty of stories like Billy’s, small acts of great bravery all adding up to a triumph in the face of defeat. Even though it was a retreat, everyone celebrated the ingenuity of the rescuers, old and young, who had given little thought to their own safety but had battled across the Channel to do their duty. Newspapers carried articles portraying the courage that had brought home so many of the soldiers, and the mood of the country was buoyed by the tales of escape against the odds. If the army could engineer an escape like this when up against the might of the Nazi war machine, what else might it achieve once it had found time to recover and regroup? What could have brought the nation to its knees turned out to have the opposite effect, and spirits were running high.
The man who ran the newsagent’s closest to Victory Walk, Mr Cooper, brought out copies of several papers he’d kept back for Alice, knowing she would collect them at the end of the day. ‘Here you are, Nurse,’ he said as she came through the door, the brass bell heralding her arrival. He could see she had propped her bicycle next to the plate-glass window outside – the handlebars were visible through the criss-cross of brown tape he’d put up in case of explosions. ‘I knew you’d want to have these.’
‘Thank you! Yes, these are headlines to keep, aren’t they,’ she said, reaching for the papers and flicking through the opening pages.
‘Our brave boys lost the battle but won the day,’ Mr Cooper declared, giving his wire-rimmed glasses a quick polish on the sleeve of his brown overall.
Alice nodded, digging out her purse. ‘You’re very kind to have put these aside for me,’ she said warmly.
‘Think nothing of it,’ Mr Cooper hastily replied. He was proud to have so many of the nurses as regular customers. They were respectable young women and of course it never hurt to know a nurse, as you never knew what would happen in times like these. Even so, today he wasn’t going to give in to such thoughts. What could have been a disaster had turned into a triumph to savour.
The sun had almost set over Victory Walk when Stan made his way along to the far end, to the nurses’ home. He stood for a moment before its imposing front, the immaculate big navy-painted door with the highly polished brasswork. Looking up he could see that some of the attic rooms had their windows open. He remembered Edith saying that she and Alice were on the top floor, and how much they liked it because of the views, despite the effort of climbing the extra flight of stairs. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say now though.
Fiona Dewar opened the door when he knocked, being on the way out herself. ‘Mr Banham!’ she exclaimed. ‘Now don’t tell me you’re here to discuss an infringement of the rules. We keep our blackout blinds in top order, I’ll have you know.’ Her friendly greeting petered out when she took in how haggard his face appeared. She had been at several committee meetings with him and had always been struck by how young he looked compared to how old she guessed he really was. Now he had suddenly aged twenty years and his pallor was grey under his weather-beaten face.
‘Ah.’ She quickly recognised the likely reason for his visit. ‘You’ve come to find Edith Gillespie, then?’
He nodded briefly.
‘Would it help to talk to her in a private room?’ she asked.
He nodded, almost unable to speak, and then mastered his emotion. ‘Yes. Thank you. That would be best.’
Fiona turned around. ‘Follow me. We shall go to my office, where you won’t be disturbed. This way.’ She walked swiftly down the hallway, pausing at the foot of the stairs as she caught sight of Gladys coming out of the cloakroom. ‘Ah, Gladys, just the person I wanted to see. Will you find Edith, please, and send her to my office? And then ask Alice Lake to go there after about ten minutes. Don’t tell anyone else yet. Good, off you go.’ She nodded briskly. ‘This way, Mr Banham.’
Alice was on her way to the mysterious summons when she heard the cry from behind the closed office door. It was almost like that of an animal – an animal in agonised distress. Forgetting the rule about never running, she plunged down the corridor and threw open the door, knowing this was no time to stand on ceremony.
Stan stood at the window, staring out, wiping his face with his hand, his shoulders hunched over and looking worse than she had ever seen him. Here was a man who could do consecutive night shifts, go to work in the daytime and still find time for his family, but now it seemed as if all his steady energy had been taken from him. He was the picture of exhausted grief.
Curled up on the matron’s sofa was Edith, huddled into a ball, and the sounds issuing from her were barely human. Alice took in the scene and her heart plummeted. It could mean only one thing.
Hurriedly she went to Edith and flung her arms around her. ‘Shush, shush,’ she said, more to soothe her friend than in any belief that she would stop crying. If the cause was what Alice thought, then Edith had every reason to cry her heart out. Alice rocked the smaller woman to and fro, rubbing her back, as if she were a little child in need of comfort. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Edith’s cries turned to sobs and then gulps. ‘Harry,’ she gasped eventually. ‘He’s gone. Harry’s gone.’
‘Oh no.’ Alice couldn’t bite back the words, even if it was what she had known deep inside on first opening Fiona’s door. Nothing else but the loss of one of his fine sons would have reduced Stan Banham to his current state. Nothing but the loss of her soul-mate would have turned Edith into this sorrowful wreck, unable to stand or barely speak.
Stan cleared his throat. ‘Well, technically, he’s missing,’ he said, still staring out of the window, his eyes on the horizon. ‘Nobody can say for sure. But … but it’s likely. That he’s dead, that is.’ A spasm passed across his face.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Alice felt how inadequate the words were. She couldn’t think of anything better though. She was sorry – profoundly, deeply sorry for Stan and Flo, and Mattie and Joe, and most of all for Edith, who had fallen so hard for the handsome young boxer, who seemed to have the world at his feet. It was beyond her imagination to think he would never stride into the Jeeves Street kitchen again, or whisk Edith off for a night-time walk after the cinema, or let loose his easy laugh as he played with his niece. It was just unthinkable, and she hardly knew him compared to the other two people in the room. What a waste of such promise. ‘It was a difficult time over in France, that’s what they’re saying,’ she added, as if that would make it any better.
Stan nodded, still scanning the rooftops. ‘That’s right. Our Harry’s one of many.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Mattie’s husband Lennie – he’s been taken prisoner. At least we know that for certain. Also, their friend Pete – did you know him? – he’s been killed, and someone saw, so at least his young wife has the comfort of certainty.’
Alice closed her eyes in shock. Lennie, a prisoner of war – just when Mattie had the joy of another baby to look forward to. How brutally unfair. And Pete – she struggled to remember him, but knew he was one of the gang of old friends who seemed to have stuck together since schooldays, another testament to the strong bonds of friendship the Banham siblings had such a talent for. The family had taken a welter of shocks all in one go.
‘And Ray’s dead,’ said Edith suddenly. ‘Kathleen’s husband. Good.’
‘Edith, you can’t—’ Alice began, but her friend spoke over her, her eyes bright with abrupt fury.
‘Good riddance and I mean it. He beat her up, Alice, you know that. He left her with no money and went gadding off and hated their lovely baby. He didn’t deserve her and I’m glad she won’t have to put up with him any more. There, I’ve said it. Not like … not like …’ She gave way to tears again. ‘He was the most loving man, he was so caring and strong and looked after me like nobody’s ever done or will do again, and I loved him to bits. We were going to … were going to … it doesn’t matter. We’ll never do it now.’
Alice nodded sadly. Edith had never spoken directly of her plans with Harry, but anyone could see the two of them were no flash in the pan. It wasn’t just Harry she had lost – it was their whole future together too.
Stan slowly tore his gaze from the almost-dark sky and faced them. ‘I have to be going,’ he said. ‘I’m on duty this evening.’
Alice gasped. ‘Surely they won’t expect you to work your shift on a day like this? Won’t you be better off at home with everyone there?’
Stan shook his head. ‘I don’t mind what they expect. I expect me to turn up. The need to protect our streets doesn’t go away because of one piece of terrible news. So many families will be in a similar situation. We can’t all miss our shifts.’
Alice nodded, impressed by his solid determination. Here was someone who would not buckle under the weight of despair. ‘Shall I see you out?’ she offered.
Stan shook his head. ‘No. You stay here with Edith. She needs you more. I can find the way, don’t worry.’
‘Give my love to Flo and Mattie,’ said Alice bleakly, as the man she had always thought of as a rock took himself slowly but with dignity from the room.
The little golden carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticked away the minutes, and after a while Alice wondered if Edith had fallen asleep. She shook her gently. ‘Hey, are you awake? You should go up to bed. I’ll bring you something up if you like.’
Edith groaned. ‘I’m awake. I wish I wasn’t. Then this might all be a bad dream and I could fool myself it hasn’t happened. But it has.’
‘It has,’ agreed Alice, wishing with all her heart it was not so. ‘Come on, let’s get you up to your room. You can’t stay here, you really can’t.’
Edith sighed so deeply that she might have been a hundred years old. ‘I know. Give me a moment. My legs feel so heavy, they don’t want to move.’ She slowly swung them off the couch but she could scarcely stand.
Alice rose and helped her friend up. ‘Lean on me, that’s right. Look, I’ll go and find Gwen or write a note for Fiona, saying you’ll miss work tomorrow.’
At this, Edith suddenly straightened. ‘No, don’t do that. I’m not missing my rounds.’
Alice looked at her. ‘Don’t be silly, you should take the day off, nobody would blame you in the slightest.’
Edith stood her ground. ‘You heard what Stan said. We can’t all lay down tools when we get bad news. There’s too much of it. We’d crumble. I don’t intend to let everyone down.’ She met Alice’s gaze. ‘Harry would expect nothing less. He never ducked out of anything. So I shall do it for him, and that’s all there is to it, and don’t try to persuade me otherwise.’ Her head came up proudly.
‘Then you’d better get some sleep,’ said Alice firmly, and led her from the room.
Alice reached for the cocoa. It was late. Edith had finally climbed into bed and she’d agreed to a warm drink to send her off to sleep, and so Alice had gone downstairs and was making a cup for both of them. She went about making the drink automatically, her mind still numb from the shocking news.
The building was quiet, as everyone else must have turned in for the night. She was relieved, as she didn’t know if she could explain what had happened without breaking down, and she didn’t want to do that. It wouldn’t help.
She dug around in a cupboard and found a small tray. Its handles were lightly chipped but replacing it would not be a priority now. The home had more than that to be concerned about. As long as it was big enough for two cups of cocoa, she didn’t mind anyway.
As this stray thought occurred to her, she realised there were footsteps approaching. Gwen came into the small service area, her face serious. ‘Ah, Nurse Lake. Alice. I assume that second cup is for Edith?’
Alice nodded. ‘Yes, she—’
‘It’s all right,’ Gwen interrupted. ‘You don’t have to explain. I saw Fiona on her way out and she told me Mr Banham had come round and what sort of state he was in. We put two and two together – were we correct? Edith’s young man has been lost at Dunkirk?’
Alice shut her eyes for a moment. ‘Yes. Well, he’s missing. But his father said we should assume the worst.’
Gwen nodded briefly. ‘Why not bring the drinks up to my room, and I will give you something else for Edith to help her sleep.’ She left, and Alice had little option but to follow.
Gwen’s room was on the first floor, at the opposite end of the corridor to Fiona’s office, and would have had a view over the back yard if the blackout blind hadn’t been in place. Alice glanced around, observing that it was a large space, with room for a table and two chairs as well as a bed, easy chair, small desk, chest of drawers and a wardrobe. It also had the luxury of its own hand basin.
Gwen switched on a standard lamp in the corner, its fringed shade swaying a little as she did so. ‘Set your tray down here, Alice, and do take a seat for a moment.’
Alice did as she was asked, taking in the comfort of the room. She wondered for how long Gwen had been here, to make it so homely. It was unlike any of the other rooms in the place, with its extra cushions and shelves of framed photos.
Gwen took a seat opposite her at the little table and folded her arms as she leant back. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about Edith’s loss. Well, your loss too – you knew the young man in question, didn’t you? I can see from your face that you did.’
Alice nodded. ‘Yes. We met him nearly a year ago, not long after we moved in here. He and Edith hit it off immediately and that was that. They suited each other so well.’ She came to a halt, afraid that she could not go on. She glanced sideways and her eye was caught by the photographs arranged in a line.
Gwen saw what she was looking at.
‘Well, my dear, I am full of sympathy for what she will be going through right now, and in the days to come,’ she said sadly. ‘Believe me, I know what it is like. You think your world has come to an end. You think your heart will never mend. And yet, life goes on. While it might not be the life she would have hoped for, it will go on in some shape or form.’
Alice turned back to face the older nurse and was surprised by her expression, unlike anything she’d seen before. They were all used to Gwen being stern, strict and sometimes downright unforgiving, but this was something different. In spite of her sadness, she wondered what it might be.
Gwen sighed. ‘I am fully aware what you all think of me,’ she began, and ploughed on even when Alice tried to protest. ‘Much of that is inevitable; I am many years older than most of you, and am in a position of seniority. It is my duty to maintain standards and I will continue to do that, no matter what the cost. I don’t look for friendships with the new recruits, I simply expect professional behaviour. But I was young once.’ She inclined her head towards the shelf of photographs, some of which were faded. ‘I qualified just as the Great War got underway. We nurses saw much pain and suffering in those years. We also knew what personal loss was like.’
Alice’s eyes grew dark. ‘Those young men in the pictures?’ she asked, hardly daring to believe she was asking such a question of the fearsome deputy.
‘Indeed.’ Gwen nodded. ‘Two of them are – were – my brothers. Edgar and Walter. Neither survived the Somme.’
‘I see,’ said Alice, recognising what it must be costing Gwen to talk about this. No wonder she was so grave. ‘And – and the other young man? The one standing up?’
Gwen shifted position in her chair. ‘Ah. Well, that is Wilfred. Captain Wilfred Holmes. He didn’t survive either.’ She looked away, and Alice could see the older woman’s eyes brightening with unshed tears, even now so many years after the event. ‘We were to be married. He was killed just one month before the war ended. It seemed so cruel, that he nearly made it. But there was nothing to be done.’
Alice stayed silent. There was nothing she could say that Gwen wouldn’t have heard before. The handsome young man gazed out of the picture, the very image of bravery, his confident demeanour indicating what good company he would have been, his pride in his uniform evident even from this distance.
‘So.’ Gwen got to her feet and went to her desk, reaching to a ledge above it and retrieving a bottle, and then a glass. ‘That’s why I know what it’s like, how Edith is feeling. People will tell her that time cures all ills, but in my experience it doesn’t so much as cure them as change them, so that they slowly become more bearable. Her work will help. But in the meanwhile, here’s some sherry, in case it does the trick in the short term.’
Alice’s eyes widened in surprise. She knew Edith would have the occasional glass of the stuff but hadn’t expected Gwen to have a supply of it.
Gwen gave a small smile. ‘Don’t be thinking I sit here on my own sipping this every evening, Nurse Lake. It’s very much for special use, or emergencies, which by my reckoning is what this evening is. Don’t let me detain you further, or your cocoa will be cold, but I wanted to give you this for her, just in case it is of use. And do tell her she can speak to me at any time, as I am only too aware what it’s like.’
Alice rose, took the bottle and glass and added them to her tray. ‘Thank you. I will tell her. Oh, and I forgot to say before, she’s determined to go on her rounds tomorrow, no matter what.’
Gwen pressed her lips together in approval. ‘That’s for the best. She’ll be needed, no matter how she feels inside. Nurse Gillespie has proved herself to be an asset to our establishment, no matter what reservations I initially held about her.’ She opened her door so that Alice could pass through carrying the little tray. ‘Good night, Alice. Look after your friend.’
‘I will.’ Alice nodded in acknowledgement of the unexpected kindness. Edith might be going through the worst night of her life but she would not be alone.