Wartime for the District Nurses. Annie GrovesЧитать онлайн книгу.
an innocent, are you.’ It wasn’t a question.
Peggy tried to recall if she’d told him she was a widow, but decided it didn’t matter. Pete’s memory was too precious to her to share with this man who had turned out to be the very opposite of a gentleman. He’d taken advantage of her, but then she’d allowed him to get the drinks all evening. She’d offered herself up like a willing sacrifice. No wonder he’d thought she wouldn’t mind, or rather hadn’t bothered to check if she did or not.
Groaning, she rolled over. She was in an unfamiliar bed, and the strange noise was Laurence snoring. She had to get away from him as quickly as possible as she could no longer bear the sight of him. Those good looks covered a black heart and the sooner she was away the better. Wildly she scrabbled for her clothes and put them on, her hands shaking as the effects of the alcohol wore off. Her head pounded but the most important thing was to get out.
If he’d heard the noise she was making, Laurence didn’t react. That told her all she needed to know. She was less than nothing to him. He didn’t care if she was awake or not, let alone if he’d hurt her. She knew she’d have bruises tomorrow, and marks from the horrible carpet, which was slightly sticky under her feet as she crept to the door.
Pausing in the dimly lit corridor, she checked her watch. She would still have time to catch the last bus, just. Swiftly she made her way down the stairs and out of a side door that she hoped would lead her to a road she recognised, but not before Marge caught her eye as she wiped the bar. The older woman shook her head, but Peggy was too hungover to react. She didn’t care what the barmaid thought; she’d never have to see her again. All she wanted now was her own bed and to forget the whole evening.
‘What have you got there, Mary?’ Belinda, who was a half-head taller than her colleague, leant over to see. Mary was standing at one of the common-room windows, overlooking the bike rack at the side of the yard, and admiring a small box in her hand. It was Friday lunch time and Belinda was ravenous after a tough morning, but not so hungry as to overcome her natural curiosity.
Mary looked up and smiled, patting her rich brown curls. ‘A present from Charles,’ she said, giving the box a little shake. It rattled, and Belinda raised her eyebrows. ‘Hairgrips.’
‘They’ll be useful.’ Belinda shook her own dark hair, which held its tight waves no matter how much she tried to straighten it under her nurse’s cap. ‘I’m running out and can’t seem to find any in the shops or market.’
Mary nodded. ‘Charles said that’s because all the available metal will be going to munitions and to build new aircraft and that sort of thing,’ she explained. ‘Not that I can see how a few little hairgrips will make much difference. They’re only small. But he says they will be tricky to come by and so he got me these.’
‘You’re lucky to have someone as thoughtful as that,’ breathed Belinda with just a hint of envy.
Mary tried not to look smug. ‘I know. Most chaps wouldn’t think about it. But he knows how hard I try to keep my hair tidy for work, and how important that is.’
‘Exactly,’ said Belinda. ‘We can’t afford to spread infection if we let loose our beautiful tresses.’ She sighed. ‘I need some food after the morning I’ve had. Let’s go and eat.’
After settling themselves in front of their bowls of oxtail soup in the dining area, Mary looked up. ‘So what happened this morning?’
Belinda took a couple of spoonfuls. ‘That’s better. Now I feel human again.’ She put down her spoon. ‘It wasn’t any one major problem, just the way lots of small things built up. There was one middle-aged woman who had broken her wrist. I mean, it was painful and awkward but no worse than that, no complications. She was so upset, though. In the end I realised she just wanted someone to talk to. She’s missing her sons, her husband is hardly at home because he’s started fire-watching, and now she’s hurt her wrist she’s no use for minding her daughter’s baby. On top of all that she’s terrified the Nazis will invade. There wasn’t much I could say to that; only to reassure her that she’ll be as good as new soon and that we’re all trying our best.’ She paused to draw breath.
‘There won’t be an invasion,’ Mary declared, confident as ever.
‘Mary, we don’t know that,’ Belinda pointed out.
‘Our boys in the RAF are defending our skies. That’s what the wireless tells us,’ Mary replied, steadfast in her belief. ‘Charles says the Luftwaffe aren’t getting away with anything. Our boys are stopping them getting through and it’s a marvellous triumph every day. So you can tell your patient to set one worry aside at any rate. But isn’t it funny how cases go in batches?’ she asked hurriedly, reading the scepticism in her colleague’s eyes. ‘A short while ago it was measles everywhere. I had two sprained ankles and a broken arm this morning. One was an accident in the blackout …’
‘… though we’re seeing fewer of those now the evenings are light,’ Belinda pointed out.
‘True. One was a young boy who’d decided to help out around the house with jobs his big brother used to do before joining up, but he didn’t really know what he was doing and fell off a ladder while trying to put up a shelf. So now his poor parents have double the worry and no shelf.’ She shrugged. ‘It could be worse.’
Belinda nodded as she took another welcome mouthful of soup.
‘My other one was an old man who tried to mow his lawn and wasn’t strong enough to take his mower out of the shed,’ Mary went on. ‘He told me his neighbour used to do it but now he’s in the army. So many things we used to take for granted are much more difficult now that there aren’t as many young men around.’
Belinda rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘Belinda!’ Mary pretended to be shocked. ‘And over lunch, too!’
‘Well, it’s all right for you, you’ve got Charles,’ Belinda pointed out. ‘Not only does he take you to the snazziest restaurants, but he remembers you need hairgrips too. He’s a man in a million. Does he have any friends?’
‘They’re all in the army, most of them away. You can share my hairgrips if you like,’ she added generously. ‘I’m sure I shan’t need them all.’
‘No, no. I couldn’t let you do that. They were a present,’ Belinda said. ‘I was only teasing. Sometimes the least expensive presents are the best, aren’t they, because they are what you really need, and Charles knew you well enough to find them. You’re a lucky woman, Mary Perkins.’
Mary had the grace to blush. ‘Well, I think so. Most of the time.’ She grinned and stood up, taking her soup bowl to the serving hatch. ‘Must be off, more patients to see.’
Belinda waved to her friend and tipped her bowl to spoon up the last of the soup. She’d been half joking, but it was true that there seemed to be far fewer eligible young men around, or at least those who weren’t simply passing through en route to active service somewhere. Her mind turned to that nice young ARP warden who had been at the pub and who knew Edith well. He’d had such kind, lively eyes and a lovely head of dark hair, gently wavy – not tight like hers. Admittedly he was not quite as tall as her, but many men weren’t. He’d been a real gent, walking her home even though it was out of his way. What was his name again? She frowned in concentration until it came to her. It was Billy – Billy Reilly.
Edith pushed open the door of Lyons Corner House with trepidation. Perhaps she should have chosen a smaller café but it was too late to change her mind now. She’d wanted to go somewhere she wouldn’t bump into anyone she knew, so that ruled out all the Dalston ones, and to be somewhere central so her brother would have no cause for complaint about being dragged north of the river and so far east. Lyons near Charing Cross seemed the easiest bet. But gazing round at the waitresses in their smart uniforms, and the women customers sipping their tea with bags of shopping stacked around their chairs, Edith could hear her brother’s snide comments in her head even before he turned up.
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