Wartime for the District Nurses. Annie GrovesЧитать онлайн книгу.
old enough to sort himself out. Or at least come to speak to me directly.’
Mick pushed his chair further back with a loud scraping noise, receiving even more glares. ‘What, don’t you trust me? D’you think I’d take a cut of a lump of cash that’s going to save our brother?’
Edith decided to call his bluff. ‘Yep. That’s exactly what I think.’ She pressed home her advantage. ‘You think I earn a fortune, do you? Since when did nurses ever get huge pay packets? And what about you – you’re serving in the army for nothing, are you? I can’t see that happening somehow.’
Mick glared at her in fury. ‘I deserve my pay. A man needs his earnings. Whereas you, look at you, what do you need cash for? Bet they feed you and you get to live in one of those fancy nurses’ homes. I been inside one or two of those,’ he leered, ‘and they was like little palaces. You’re living the life of Riley.’
Edith stared heavenwards, thinking of all the sad cases she had had to deal with in the past week. Yes, she loved her little attic room, and if the canteen food wasn’t as delicious as a Lyons teacake, at least there was plenty of it. It was a world away from what she had grown up with and she’d worked hard to get there. She wasn’t going to give Mick the satisfaction of upsetting her. She didn’t even know if he was telling the truth about Frankie, but she was sure that if she gave him any money, then their younger brother would see very little of it.
‘Think what you like,’ she said evenly, ‘but you’ll get nothing from me. If Frankie’s genuinely in trouble, ask him to get in touch directly. That’s if you can’t sub him yourself, after having all your bed and board paid for, that is.’
Mick slammed down his cup so hard she thought it would break. ‘I might have known it. You’ve only ever been out for yourself. Ma told me that’s what you’d say but I thought, oh no, now she’s a nurse she’ll have changed. She’ll be kind; everyone knows nurses are kind.’ He brought his face close to hers. ‘But not you, eh, Edith? Hard as nails, that’s what you are.’ He threw the chair to one side, causing a nearby woman to squeal, as Edith swiftly reached out and caught it before it could fall or knock into anyone. ‘Wish I could say it was nice seeing you again, but that would be a lie.’ With that he flung himself towards the door and out onto the Strand.
Edith sighed but made herself finish the tea and the last bite of the teacake. She would not let his familiar viciousness get under her skin. In truth, she had expected little else from him, and in one way it was good to have her suspicions confirmed. He was trying to con her out of her hard-earned money, just like the old days, but now he thought she’d be a softer touch. Well, he’d picked on the wrong person. She knew his ways and had no intention of falling for them.
Taking some coins from her purse and leaving them for the waitress, she rose with dignity and steadily made her way to the door. It was only when she had reached the outside and the cooler air hit her that she felt a pang. Why did her family have to be so difficult? Did they really still blame her for Teresa’s death, or would they have been like this anyway? There was no way of telling.
Edith exhaled sharply. All right, so her family weren’t much of a comfort, but she knew one that was – and one that had made her welcome. Suddenly she knew she had to be back in that room she thought of as the source of all comfort and safety. She would go to visit the Banhams – at least she knew she would always have the warmest of welcomes there.
Mattie had been hanging out the washing when she’d first sensed something wasn’t right. It was never her favourite chore, but she knew her mother found it increasingly difficult to carry the heavy tub into the back yard, hoick up the line and prop it up with the weathered old pole, and then lift the dripping clothes and bedding into place and nip the pegs into position before the items could slip off again. Flo’s hands were beginning to swell with arthritis, much as she tried to hide it. Mattie had seen her wince as she twisted the sheets to squeeze out the water.
She wanted to save her mother the bother, and also to save her face; now she was a mother herself she recognised how Flo had to maintain the front of being the one in charge, capable of anything. In most respects that was exactly what she still was – but age was starting to creep up, and stiffen her poor hands.
Mattie gritted her teeth as she balanced the laundry tub to one side of her sizeable bump. The sun was out and it had seemed a good idea to wash the sheets, a brisk breeze promising to dry them quickly. Now she was faced with manoeuvring the unwieldy armfuls of cotton onto the frayed old line. Usually it was easy, but now her bump kept getting in the way; she couldn’t bend properly, she had to twist, and that pulled on her back muscles which were already sore from lifting Gillian out of harm’s way scores of times a day. Gritting her teeth harder still, she flung the sheets over the line, tugging at them until they hung properly, by which time she was covered in water. Suddenly it all seemed too much. A wave of sadness came over her from nowhere, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down and put her head in her hands. At the same time, she recognised that this was not like her at all. Anyway, there was no helping it – the washing was not going to peg itself out. She simply had to get on with it.
When she heard someone knocking on the front door she wondered if this would be her excuse to take a break, but then came the sound of her mother’s voice greeting the visitor. She sighed as she hung up the last few items, Gillian’s small smocked dresses and her own well-worn pale blue blouse. The sight of it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Lennie had loved her in that. She took a deep breath. No point in thinking about that now. Wincing as she bent to pick up the basket and peg bag to stack them by the side fence, she realised she had to run to the outside privy, and never mind who had come to visit.
‘Come through, come through to the kitchen.’ Flo beamed in delight as Edith stepped inside the hallway. ‘I was just going to put on the kettle. You’ll have a cup of tea, won’t you? Or is it too hot?’
Edith was wilting from the warmth of the crowded bus back from the city centre. Everyone on it had been chattering about what was going on over the south coast, the brave RAF lads tackling the Luftwaffe, but it had only served to underline her sadness that her own brave hero was no longer there to comfort her. ‘I’d love some water. I’ll get it, you sit down.’
Flo pretended to be affronted. ‘I’ve not got to the stage where a guest in my house has to fetch their own drink,’ she admonished. ‘I can see you’re in need of something cool. Sit yourself there by the window and catch the breeze. Now, that’s better.’ She set a heavy glass tumbler down at Edith’s elbow.
Edith took a long draught and almost groaned in relief. ‘That’s just what I needed. Those buses are busy today. Whatever was I thinking of?’
‘Never mind, you’re here now,’ said Flo, ‘and very welcome you are too. I’m pleased you dropped by. It seems like ages since we last saw you. You aren’t staying away, are you? Not afraid we’ll make you think of Harry?’
Edith felt a pang that Flo might even have imagined such a thing. ‘No, no. Not a bit. I’ve been run off my feet with work, I’ve hardly had a moment to call my own.’ Except for two trips to the pub, the voice of her conscience whispered.
Flo nodded. ‘That’s only to be expected. In a job like yours, you’ll always have to put the patients first. We understand.’
Edith smiled gratefully. ‘It’s only what everyone else is doing too.’
Flo grinned conspiratorially. ‘Well, I’ll tell you something. Stan has been so flat out – what with working all day and then going on his ARP rounds – that he’s in bed at this very minute! Catching up on his sleep, he is, and in all our years of married life I’ve never known him to do such a thing. But take the chance while you can, I told him. You can’t burn the candle at both ends any more, not at your age.’
Edith’s eyebrows rose in surprise. To her, Stan was indefatigable.