A GIFT FOR THE DISTRICT NURSES
Annie Groves

Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

This e-book edition published 2020

Copyright © Annie Groves 2020

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 2020

Cover photographs © Jonathan Ring (models), Lee Avison/Trevillion Images (street) and Shutterstock.com (all other images)

Annie Groves asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008402334

Ebook Edition © December 2020 ISBN: 9780008402396

Version: 2020-09-21

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all district nurses, past and present

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Annie Groves

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
January 1944

‘Would you like my seat, miss?’ The young man in army uniform stood up from his place in the corner of the already crowded railway carriage. ‘Nice girl like you doesn’t want to be standing all the way.’

Lily Chandler smiled in gratitude. She liked a show of manners. ‘Thank you,’ she said, bestowing a smile on him – a sergeant, she could see now she was a little closer to his khaki jacket. ‘That’s very kind.’ He was quite right, she thought. She certainly didn’t want to stand all the way from Liverpool’s Lime Street Station the entire length of the journey down to London. She intended to look her best the moment she stepped down onto the platform in the capital. New year, new life, she told herself.

Not that she needed to strengthen her resolution, she thought as she settled into the seat the sergeant had vacated. She smoothed the lapels of her maroon wool coat; a rare bargain, as many of her home city’s clothes shops had been destroyed in air raids earlier in the war. It suited her, she knew. It brought out the roses in her cheeks and contrasted with her hair. She counted herself fortunate to have been born a natural blonde. Not for her the desperate searching for bleach, or the hopeless task of hunting down lemons for their juice. She’d been dealt all the aces when it came to hair and complexion.

She almost broke into a private smile but then remembered that nobody liked a smug expression. It didn’t do to appear too pleased with yourself. It put people off. She’d have to be careful. Moving to a new place, with new colleagues, she’d have to try extra hard to be pleasant and make new friends. Everyone needed friends. She’d be starting from scratch somewhere nobody knew her. She’d have to be careful to get everything right.

There was a jolt as the train set off, and she quickly looked up at the rack overhead, where her suitcase was crammed in between army kitbags and leather grips. It seemed safe enough – it couldn’t possibly tumble down as all the luggage was so tightly packed. She might as well make use of the time to catch up on her beauty sleep. There was no way of knowing how long the journey would take. Besides, if she closed her eyes then there was less chance of being drawn into conversation. She didn’t fancy having to make small talk with strangers, for hours and hours. Or certainly not with a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears servicemen, little more than boys. That wasn’t to her taste at all.

Her parents had been sad to see her go but they could understand that she was doing it for the best. ‘Take care, love,’ her mother had said, anxiously gazing into her daughter’s determined face. ‘Stay away from Hitler’s bombs, won’t you? Promise me you won’t go doing anything daft.’

‘I promise.’ Lily had tried to reassure her mother, because it was simpler to do that than argue. Anyway, as if she would do anything daft. It wasn’t her habit.

Besides, they’d already come through the Liverpool Blitz. It wasn’t as if she was deliberately leaving safety to head into danger – they’d had plenty of that at home. The docks had been the main targets, and the city centre, but stray bombs had fallen all over the place, including in a neighbouring street. It had meant night after night of taking shelter in the church hall. Surely it couldn’t get much worse than what she’d already been through.

She had been glad to get Christmas over and done with, to be truthful. She’d got the impression that her mother had pulled out all the stops in a last-ditch effort to persuade her to stay. Lily was all too aware that there was little money to spare and yet her mother had produced a roast of sorts, with plenty of vegetables to disguise the lack of turkey, and even a small plum pudding. Her father had done the honours and carved the scrawny chicken, and then afterwards had poured brandy over the pudding and set it alight, as he’d done for as long as Lily could remember. She had dutifully oohed and aahed, as she didn’t want to upset them, but all the while she had been itching to leave.

Lily hadn’t stinted on presents for them, turning her bargain-hunting skills to full advantage. She had managed to find a warm woollen waistcoat for her father, who was prone to chest infections. For her mother she had followed a rumour of jewellery for sale, and tracked down somebody who had worked in the city centre until the shop was destroyed by a direct hit. Now he was selling privately, if you knew where to go. Lily had ventured out to a semi-detached house, in a somewhat better road than her own, and was relieved to see a selection of items she could just about afford. Her mother had gasped with delight when she had unwrapped a small velvet box – the paper carefully saved from last year – which contained a turquoise necklace. Lily had been glad. She did love her parents; but she didn’t want to end up living their lives. Guilty or not, she knew she had to leave for a better future. She deserved it, she told herself.

She gave a little shiver now, despite the crowded clamminess of the carriage. It was excitement, she told herself, not fear. There was nothing to be afraid of. She’d made her decision, applied for her transfer and that was that. She was needed where she was going; they’d be glad to have her. She would not look back. She was taking her future in her own hands and there was no room for doubt. That was all in the past.

Firmly, she shut her mind to the memories of the quiet celebrations with her family. Her parents weren’t musical but a friendly neighbour a few doors down had a piano, and invited them in to sing carols on Boxing Day. Lily had always felt a little embarrassed at this tradition, as nobody could sing very well and the neighbour’s dog usually snored loudly all the way through. It also smelled of wet dog and over-cooked vegetables rather noticeably. Yet her parents always reminded her that the offer was made out of kindness and you never knew when you would need a neighbour’s helping hand. Lily had squirmed; that was exactly the sort of thing she was moving away from.

It had been funny to bump into somebody she knew at the station just before her train had pulled in. He’d been coming back to visit his parents, carrying a bag obviously full of presents, having had to miss the festive season itself. ‘Where are you working now?’ she had asked, curious to hear about someone else who had made the break from family and all things familiar.

‘Oh, down south,’ he’d said, tapping his nose. ‘Loose lips sink ships, eh?’ She had nodded, realising he couldn’t really tell her precisely as he must be in the forces, despite his civilian clothes today. Then she’d told him what she was doing and he’d looked at her with keen interest. Not that kind of interest, she had soon recognised, as they continued to talk until her train was ready. Still, he was good company for the few minutes that they had, and she’d always liked him when they’d trained together. He wasn’t what many people would call handsome, but his intelligent looks grew on you. Such a shame he didn’t seem to be based in London. But she knew full well that plenty of doctors were attached to the airfields and naval ports along the south coast.

Absently she touched her fine wool collar once again. Soon it would be time to swap her elegant coat for something more practical. Carefully folded into her suitcase was a serviceable and warm navy cloak. That would be a vital part of her uniform where she was going. From tomorrow she would be a district nurse once again, but instead of working in the streets of Liverpool that she’d known for all her life, she’d be based in the East End. She didn’t have to check the formal piece of paper for the details because the address was instantly memorable: Victory Walk, Dalston.

Ruby Butler folded her arms and glared at her big sister. For two pins she’d have stamped her foot, but that was exactly the sort of behaviour that Beryl would pick up on, and use it as an excuse to call her childish. Not that she ever needed an excuse.

‘All I’m saying,’ Beryl complained for the fiftieth time, ‘is that I don’t see why you have to go traipsing right across London to work when you could do the exact same job right here. Aren’t we good enough for you?’

Ruby tsked in annoyance but refused to rise to the bait.

‘After all,’ Beryl went on, her voice high-pitched and relentless, ‘it isn’t as if you’ll spend the rest of your life working. You won’t want to do that for ever. It’s not what you’re made for. You’ll want to get married, same as the rest of us. You’ll meet someone like I did when I saw my Terry and that’ll be that.’

My Terry, my Terry. If Ruby had a penny for every time her sister dropped her husband’s name into the conversation, and always with that smug little expression on her smug little face, then she wouldn’t have needed to go out to work at all.

‘There aren’t many eligible men left around here, if you hadn’t noticed,’ she pointed out. That was putting it mildly. Everyone remotely fit had been sent off to fight, leaving those too young, old or sick. There were a few young men in reserved professions, but they tended to work all hours of the day and night and be too worn out to socialise. Well, Ruby knew exactly what that felt like.

‘No need to be snarky,’ Beryl retorted, most unfairly. ‘You wait till this war is over, and the place will be flooded by homecoming heroes, that’s what they’re saying. You’ll be swept off your feet. It won’t be long now. My Terry says that everything is going to plan with the army in Italy …’

‘Can’t wait,’ mumbled Ruby, fed up with her sister’s conviction that she knew best. That was how it had always been: Ruby was the baby of the family, with Beryl and her twin Colin ten years older, and they had never even considered that Ruby might have a mind of her own. Then when Beryl had met her Terry – who to Ruby’s mind was no great catch, being pasty-faced and short-sighted – it had become three against one. Four, if you counted their mother.

‘Come, Beryl, Ruby will have her reasons,’ their mother said now, belatedly riding to her youngest’s rescue, although with a tone of voice that made it clear she didn’t hold with those reasons, whatever they might be. ‘We’ll miss you, that’s all. It’s so far away. And going right to where all those bombs fell! It doesn’t seem right.’

Ruby pressed her fingernails hard into her forearms to keep from screaming. It was hot in the kitchen from where the range was heated up to cook their barley stew for tea, and the window was fogged with condensation from the kettle. Would she miss this? Her mother’s cooking, maybe. Not everything else that came with it.

‘We didn’t exactly avoid the bombs here,’ she commented. It was true. Hammersmith had suffered during the Blitz and the very next street to theirs had caught a high-explosive bomb, something none of them would ever forget. She didn’t want to go through that again, but she couldn’t stay here any longer.

She’d thought when she began her nurse’s training at the local hospital that, when she qualified, her family would finally respect her. Years of studying and practising had to count for something, surely – but as soon as she stepped through the front door to their house, it was as if she’d never left. Then she had gone on to do an extra period of specialist district-nurse training, a demanding role in which she’d dealt with life-or-death situations. It still made her nervous to think of the responsibility she’d been given. Yet her family continued to treat her like a baby.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love her. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that love came with a suffocating layer of protection that would have kept her safe indoors, wrapped in cotton wool, until the right man came along; someone who would also protect her to an overwhelmingly high degree. At least the war had meant she had to go out to work – it was the law.

Ruby had been terrified the first morning she’d gone to the hospital to start training. What if her mother and the twins were right – that she was too childish to do anything useful? Colin had just joined the navy and had received a hero’s send-off. In contrast, Beryl’s words to her that morning had been, ‘Well, don’t come running to me if you can’t cope.’

Ruby sighed at the memory. She’d had the chance to stay in West London as a district nurse, based at the local home, which was a short bus ride from her mother’s house. But to her mind that was not far enough. She had to put more distance between them, or she’d never gain the confidence she felt she so badly lacked. At the moment she felt like a fraud, going out into her patients’ homes, afraid that one of them would cotton on to her ignorance and point out that she wasn’t really a proper nurse. Every time she built up a reserve of resolution, a comment from her mother or, more likely, Beryl would raze it to the ground.

True to form, Beryl tutted as she went over to the range to stir the simmering stew. ‘Well, don’t come crying to us when you get homesick,’ she said loftily. ‘And you will, Ruby, you’re a real home bird and no mistake. I just hope they look after you when they realise.’

Ruby felt a stab of guilt. There were things about her home that she knew she would miss. The Christmas period had been full of moments that took her back to her childhood: fetching the ancient wooden box full of decorations, carefully taking them from their nests of newspaper, checking none had broken. Finding her favourite, the glass angel with the wonky wings. Making paper chains and pinning them across the parlour ceiling, her mother anxiously holding the chair she’d had to stand on to reach. Carols playing on the wireless and her mother singing along under her breath, not realising Ruby could hear. Even Beryl had been almost bearable, until Twelfth Night arrived and it was time to take all the decorations down again and stow them safely away.

Now her mother wiped anxious hands down her striped pinafore. ‘But you know you can always come back, Ruby,’ she said seriously. ‘You’ll always be my precious little girl, you know that.’

That was the whole trouble in a nutshell. Ruby took a deep breath. ‘I know,’ she said, smiling wanly at the careworn woman in front of her, old beyond her years. ‘It’s only a couple of bus rides away. I’m not going to Scotland or something. Or Italy,’ she added pointedly. ‘We could meet in the middle.’

Her mother instantly recoiled. ‘Oh, you know I don’t hold with going to the West End. You never know what sort of people will be there.’

‘Never mind, then.’ Ruby wondered if nervousness could be catching. Or passed down from mother to daughter. She had to fight it or she wouldn’t be able to do her job, and she desperately wanted to be a success. She’d got this far, after all.

Slowly, she walked from the kitchen, through the slightly shabby but immaculately clean hall, and headed upstairs. She had packing to do. Tomorrow, she would take those couple of buses, or as many as she needed to take if they were rerouted yet again, and make her way to the East End. She touched the pocket of her skirt for good luck, as it contained her letter from the nurses’ home on Victory Walk, Dalston.

CHAPTER TWO

‘If I say so myself, I’m quite pleased. That was a good idea of mine.’ Fiona Dewar, superintendent of the North Hackney Queen’s Nurses’ Association, stood back from the narrow wooden doorway with pride. ‘It may not be ideal but it’ll serve its purpose for now.’

Gwen, her dour-faced deputy, looked dubious. ‘It’s highly irregular.’

Fiona shot her a swift glance. ‘That’s as maybe. Needs must. This new girl is joining us and she has to sleep somewhere. If there’s no vacant bedroom then this is the next best thing.’

What had once been a large store cupboard and an underused alcove just off the main downstairs hallway had been knocked together to form a makeshift bedroom, large enough to fit a single bed but not much else. At least it had a window, although the view was of the bike rack in the back yard of the nurses’ home.

‘It will at least afford her a wee bit of privacy,’ Fiona pointed out. ‘I hope she’ll not be too cold. Still, it’s only temporary.’ She checked the newly installed electric light switch. ‘See, all mod cons. We’ll have to make the best of it.’

Gwen remained unconvinced. ‘If you say so. I hope it won’t affect her work. She might be disturbed by the other nurses going in and out of the district room.’

Fiona raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, we’ll just have to inform them that they are to re-equip their bags more quietly for now. They’re intelligent young women. I’m sure they can manage.’ She switched the light off again and nodded with satisfaction. ‘Come, we’ll go up to my office and make a note that all is ready for our new recruits. Whatever happens we cannot shirk the paperwork.’

‘Heaven forbid,’ said Gwen as she followed her diminutive colleague up the wide stairs to the first floor. Though in truth she was more of a stickler for the rules than any of them. Bombs might fall and fires might blaze, but Gwen would see to it that the proper regulations were adhered to.

Fiona led the way into the office, its shelves crammed with medical textbooks and files, bright in the sharp winter light. She swung herself into her wooden chair and Gwen took her usual place opposite the old wooden desk, polished to within an inch of its life, as Fiona picked up her fountain pen and made a note on the form placed in readiness in front of her.

‘At least we have one regular room for our other recruit,’ the superintendent said, blotting the dark blue ink.

Gwen nodded. ‘Who would have thought that Primrose would leave us to get married. After all her years of training. She seemed so steady. I’d have assumed she’d have carried on with us, no matter what.’

Fiona leant back and laughed. ‘Who would have thought you’d say such a thing, Gwen? Before the war you’d never have countenanced the idea of a nurse staying on after her wedding.’ Her eyes gleamed in merriment.

Gwen sighed, caught on the horns of the dilemma. Strictly speaking, all nurses were meant to cease work after getting married, but that rule had been enforced less and less as the war had gone on. Hospitals and district nursing organisations simply could not afford to lose young women with medical expertise, and besides, many of the new husbands were away, serving in the armed forces. Added to that, in many areas of the country – the East End being one of them – a young married couple would struggle to find a home of their own, as so much of the housing stock had suffered bomb damage. The result was, more and more nurses married their sweethearts and then returned to work, living in their respective nurses’ homes.

Gwen disapproved in principle but was forced to concede in practice. The real problem came when the inevitable consequence followed.

‘That’s as maybe,’ she admitted, accustomed to her friend’s teasing. ‘The fact remains that we must keep a careful eye on Nurse Gillespie – I mean Nurse Banham, as she is now. When is her baby due?’

Fiona thought for a moment. ‘Not until June, I believe. She’ll be fine for a while yet. She’s made of strong stuff, is Edith.’

Gwen nodded in acknowledgement. She could not argue with that; Edith would never have come through the past few years had she not been. Edith’s fiancé had gone missing at Dunkirk and everyone thought he had died, along with so many others. Then they had learned that he had been so badly injured he’d been unable to tell his rescuers who he was or where he was from. He had been discovered in hospital in Portsmouth, close to death and almost unrecognisable. It had taken many operations and changes of treatment before he miraculously recovered enough to marry Edith.

‘She’s hiding her morning sickness as best she can, but I’m not fooled,’ Gwen said now. ‘If she becomes too weak to perform her duties, we must step in. She won’t like it but it’s our job to protect both her and her baby. Also, we must protect our patients.’

‘Gwen.’ Fiona looked up sharply. ‘You’re not suggesting that our patients will object to their nurse being pregnant? I know it’s unusual but they’ll have to accept it.’

‘No, no,’ Gwen said hurriedly. ‘Besides, Edith is almost as tiny as you are. There’s no sign of her bump showing yet. What I meant was, the daily rounds of working on the district require physical exertion. Just riding those bikes takes considerable effort. I regret not obtaining new ones while they were still available. There’s no chance now.’ She shook her head and then returned to her main point. ‘The fact is, Edith might reach a stage where she’s simply not able to manage the physical side of the job. She’ll be the last to admit it – you know as well as I do how hard she drives herself. So that is when you or I must be prepared to step in.’

It was Fiona’s turn to sigh. ‘I hate to deprive a nurse who takes such joy in her work of her chance to practise.’ She twirled her pen around on the completed form. ‘But you’re right, of course. She may continue as long as she’s able. But for her own sake, at the first sign of trouble, we must step in.’

Lily had debated whether to keep her elegant maroon coat on, or if it would be best to change into her uniform cloak. She knew she would make a more attractive impression in the wool coat, as its fabric swung from her waist as she walked. She’d opted to wear it as she descended from the train when it finally pulled in to its destination, and noticed the appreciative glances as she made her way along the crowded platform to the concourse. Then she had second thoughts. What sort of impression did she want to make on her new colleagues and superiors?

Swiftly ducking into the waiting room, she opened her case and drew out the navy cloak, changing into it and carefully folding her precious coat on top of her packed clothes. It pained her to crease it, but perhaps she could steam it over the bath in her new accommodation. What sort of bathrooms would the place have? She hadn’t been told. Would they be expected to keep to the government limit of a measly few inches of bathwater? She hoped not but suspected that they would.

It took two buses to cross London, which made her slightly nervous; she had been lucky to visit the capital just before she started her training but she didn’t know it well at all. It was already close to dark when she stepped off the second bus, the conductor kindly telling her where the right stop was. ‘Now you just cross this main road and head down there,’ he said, pointing to a street of tall terraced houses, dimly visible against the last of the daylight. ‘Don’t hang about, mind. You don’t want to be caught out on unfamiliar streets in the blackout.’ He helpfully lifted her case to the platform at the back.

‘Thank you, I won’t,’ Lily assured him with a smile, knowing all too well from experience in Liverpool how easy it was to have an accident in the absence of street lighting.

There was just enough receding twilight to guide her along the road, and then to illuminate a street sign, clearly made crooked by bomb damage: Victory Walk. Lily breathed a sigh of relief. Despite all her brave talk, she had been dreading finding her way here. The end of a very long journey was in sight. All she had to do now was find the right building, before it was completely dark. Where had she put her torch? Nowhere easily to hand, she realised.

Her task was made easier when she noticed in the gloom a figure at the far end of the road, wearing an identical cloak to her own. Another nurse. That must be the place, and not a moment too soon, because there really was very little light left. She hurried to the end of the pavement, and the other nurse swung around in alarm at the sound of footsteps.

‘It’s all right,’ Lily called out hurriedly, swinging her suitcase in one hand, her nurse’s Gladstone bag in the other. She was keen to set them down after the long day of hauling them around. ‘I’m looking for the nurses’ home. Is this the right place?’

She could scarcely see the other woman’s face, but the voice that replied was tinged with relief. ‘Yes. Yes, I think so. I haven’t been here before. I’m new.’

Lily recognised the accent as being from London, so perhaps this other nurse came from a different district. ‘So am I,’ she said. ‘I’m joining the Queen’s Nurses here.’

‘Oh. Yes, me too.’ The young woman seemed anxious, so Lily took control.

‘We’d better go in, then. I’m Lily, by the way.’ She strode up the short path to the front door of what looked to be a double-fronted house, taller than its neighbour, at the end of the terrace.

‘Ruby,’ said the other nurse, following on her heels, and dragging her case along behind her.

Before they could even knock, the door swung open. ‘Come inside, come inside!’ The light from the hall silhouetted a small figure, whose instruction came in an accent that was distinctly Scottish. ‘Hurry now, or the ARP warden will have conniptions. We’ve been waiting for you and we’re very glad you’re here.’ She ushered them into the hall and swiftly shut the door, shiny in its glossy navy paint, behind them. ‘There now! You’ve arrived safely, and we’ve made sure it’s good and warm for you. Leave your bags right here and come along to our canteen-cum-common room – it’s just down these steps at the back. Now along the way, take note that this is our refuge room. We don’t have a bomb shelter as such but we’ve all survived the Blitz just fine in here. I don’t want to alarm you unduly, but you should know that this is where you’ll need to go if the siren sounds.’

Lily did as she was bid, unable to get a word in edgeways with the small woman in full swing. She did her best to take in her surroundings: high ceilings in the corridor, several doors, a telephone; every wooden surface highly polished and a distinct tang of beeswax in the air. Clearly standards were not allowed to slip around here, war or no war.

‘Take a seat, take a seat.’ The woman indicated a well-worn sofa, with patchwork cushions against its padded arms. She drew a chair across for herself, waving at a small, dark-haired young woman across the room as she did so. ‘Edith, we have our new recruits at last! Could I trouble you to put the kettle on? They’ll be in need of something to warm them after their travels, I should think.’ She turned back to Lily and Ruby. ‘I’m Fiona, Fiona Dewar.’

Lily tried to hide her shock as she realised this was the superintendent who had written to her confirming her position. She had never come across any nurse in authority who didn’t stand on ceremony and insist on her full title. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she managed. ‘I’m Lily Chandler.’

Fiona beamed, and turned to the other newcomer, clearly expecting a similar response.

Ruby swallowed with obvious nerves before stuttering, ‘I’m Ruby Butler.’ She blushed.

‘Excellent! Good to see you’ve made it safe and sound. Now don’t go getting the idea that you’ll be waited on hand and foot, but I can see your kind colleague Nurse Banham has made you a hot drink. Here she comes. Three cups – you’ll be joining us then, Edith?’

Edith set down the tray with its jug of steaming, sweet-smelling cocoa and three cups, clinking on their saucers. ‘No, no. This is for you.’

Lily wondered at Fiona’s raised eyebrow as she inclined her head towards the obliging nurse, but Edith just said, ‘Really, it’s all right, I had some not long ago.’

‘Very well. I’ll not keep you long.’ Edith faded into the background and Fiona pressed on, while pouring the welcome drinks for them all. ‘You’ll want to get settled. So now, the only small thing to mention is that we have just the one proper bedroom at the moment, and the other one is temporary. It’s absolutely fine, there’s a real bed and all you’ll need, but it’s on the small side and doesn’t have a desk or wardrobe – though there are hooks to hang up your things.’ She paused, taking a sip of her drink.

Lily wondered what she was meant to do. Of course it would make a good impression if she offered to take the smaller room. Then again, she had no inclination to do so. She wanted to unpack her lovely clothes, collected with such dedication, and to be sure there was a mirror and a space for her hairbrushes and precious but limited cosmetics. She didn’t like the sound of a cramped room at all.

She was saved the decision by Ruby speaking up. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I haven’t brought much with me. I’m just glad to be here. Besides,’ she met Lily’s eyes for the first time, ‘you’re taller than me. I dare say I’ll fit into a smaller space more easily.’

Fiona regarded her seriously. ‘That’s very generous of you, Ruby. Like I say, it will only be temporary. So I’ll show you to your quarters as soon as you’ve drunk up, and then we can discuss your work tomorrow morning, after you’ve had a proper meal and a full night’s sleep.’ Draining her own cup, she rose, and Lily felt obliged to do the same, although she would sooner have lingered on the comfy sofa in the warm, homely room.

Well, well, thought Edith, after Fiona had led the new nurses away again. She had watched the superintendent’s technique with interest. Fiona had left her question hanging, no doubt deliberately, and Edith had seen from her vantage point the look that had passed across the blonde nurse’s face at the notion of taking a less than ideal bedroom. Lily, was it? She was someone who thought a lot of herself, if Edith was any judge of character, and she’d had a fair amount of practice. She wondered if she should approach Ruby and explain why the room was temporary.

They were all waiting for her to move out. She could tell when she turned down the cup of cocoa that Fiona was checking that she didn’t still feel sick. True, her morning sickness often extended into the afternoon and sometimes into the evening as well, but Edith had no intention of stopping work before she absolutely had to. It was a shame that this meant Ruby, who from that one brief encounter seemed very pleasant if a bit anxious, would have to rough it for a while. But that was just how things were. Nothing was going to prevent Edith working until the very last moment, if she had any say in the matter.

CHAPTER THREE

If Ruby could have wheeled her bike along the pavement while squeezing her eyes shut, she would have done. She wanted to block out what she’d just seen. It had been too depressing for words and she wished she hadn’t had to be there.

It wasn’t as if she had come from a wealthy area or hadn’t been into patients’ homes before. Of course she had; that was what the specialist district nurse training had been about. The area where she had worked had plenty of families who were far from well off, and she had steeled herself to expect more of the same now she had come east. All the same, the house she had just visited was on a whole new level of poverty.

Ruby had been called there to see the mother, who had had an accident falling off a kitchen stool some weeks ago and was taking a long time to get better. She needed her dressings changed, and that had sounded simple enough. But when she got to the address, Ruby had been overwhelmed by the number of people crammed into the small red-brick terraced house, which showed signs of bomb damage. The house next to it was uninhabitable, and so one wall was left exposed, meaning the place was even colder and damper than it might have been before. No wonder the poor woman was recovering so slowly. She should have been taking it easy but instead was trying to look after a host of small children – Ruby had lost count – and an infirm elderly woman who sat in one corner of the cramped living room and complained loudly, even as Ruby was trying to talk to her patient.

Ruby had done her best but had gasped with relief once she had shut the front door behind her again – carefully, in case it came away from its half-rotten frame. She had gulped in the cold fresh air of the street, fighting down the urge to gag at the smell of the little house. It had been like a nightmare.

Now she slowly wheeled her bike along, knowing she had to get to her next appointment but desperate for some time to recover first. You wanted this, she told herself. You knew what it was going to be like. That was half the trouble; she had jumped into this and thought she was prepared, but the reality of it was only now hitting her.

She screwed her eyes shut again, just briefly. She’d done it now; she had to cope. She couldn’t go running home with her tail between her legs. Her mother and particularly her sister would never let her forget it. She shook her head. She couldn’t let their voices fill her mind. She’d lose every ounce of confidence if she did. Then they would have won.

Right, my girl, she muttered. Show some backbone. The other nurses deal with such things day in, day out. There’s no earthly reason why you can’t, either. You’ll have to, simple as that. You can’t back out now, not just because somewhere smelled terrible and was dark and noisy and damp.

Besides, Ruby realised, she was needed. She must remember that. What would the poor mother have done if nobody came to change her dressings? Her legs might never heal properly and then all those children would have been even worse off. It was, what? Ten minutes of the day. Ten minutes that would have made all the difference to her patient, and therefore to all the family.

Ruby felt her mood brighten and she began to take in her surroundings. This must be the market that some of the other nurses had told her about. There were stalls with bright awnings, and even with the restrictions of rationing there seemed to be plenty of things for sale. Colourful goods were cleverly arranged to make them seem plentiful. Voices drifted across the road, stallholders shouting their wares, the buzz of conversations, arguments, gossip. She decided that she would explore it properly on her first day off.

Her new colleagues had been kind, filling her in on the local area, and she had been surprised to find that they came from far and wide themselves. Fiona was Scottish, of course; then there were two nurses from Ireland, who had come to London because they knew there was a shortage of trained medical staff. The nurse with the thick chestnut hair sounded rather posh; Edith – on the other hand – spoke very like Ruby did, though she said she came from south London, not west. She hadn’t met all of the others yet, and it was a job to remember their names. She wondered if Lily had the same trouble, although she’d bet that the other new nurse wouldn’t admit to it even if she did.

Ruby paused and smiled to herself. Lily hadn’t fooled her for a moment. There was no way on this earth that her fellow newcomer would have volunteered to take the temporary bedroom. She’d been all gratitude and are-you-sure, I’ll-swap-if-you-like, but Ruby couldn’t imagine her anywhere that didn’t have a big mirror and a decent light above it. That and somewhere to hang up her many clothes. How her glamorous colleague had managed to come by so many while everyone Ruby knew was struggling with clothing coupons and make do and mend, she couldn’t comprehend.

Not that she begrudged her. Ruby was quite content with her makeshift room; she didn’t need anywhere bigger. She had very few dresses to hang up, aside from her uniforms. She had enjoyed the freedom of living in at the nurses’ home while training, but once she’d been back under the family roof, she’d had a glorified box room no bigger than where she was now. Her sister had commandeered the bigger room as her husband Terry might come home on leave. Her brother Colin had a room fit for a fighting hero. Ruby knew her place.

She checked the address for her next patient and squinted at the map. She’d soon get the hang of the unfamiliar streets, she told herself. The others had done so before her; she didn’t like to confess that she’d hardly ever left Hammersmith and the areas immediately around it. She would learn, she’d have to. Rather reluctantly she turned her back on the lively market and traced the route she had just memorised. She would cope, and things would get better. She didn’t need to believe what her family had told her, the doubts they had sown. She would not let their voices win.

‘So how have you been?’ Alice set down her canvas weekend bag on her bed and looked at her fellow nurse and best friend, Edith Banham. ‘You’re still very pale. Are you sure you’re eating properly?’

Edith stretched out along the narrow bed as best she could, around the bulging bag. ‘Don’t fuss, Al. I’ve had it up to here with Fiona checking me over every two minutes. Blimey, you’ve only been gone a few days. I hope you haven’t spent all your time worrying about me.’

Alice nodded. ‘As I thought, then. You haven’t been eating. Seriously, Edith, you can’t live on dry toast.’

Edith shuffled around on the candlewick bedspread. ‘I happen to like dry toast.’

‘Just as well.’ Alice wasn’t giving up.

‘It’s filling and there’s plenty of it, even if it’s from that horrible national wheatmeal loaf. How does that rhyme go? “It builds up my health, and its taste is good, I find that I like eating just what I should.” Must be true, the government says so.’

‘Oh well, in that case …’ Alice relented a little, as she took her clothes from the bag and shook them out.

‘So how were your parents? Oooh, is that new?’ Edith’s eyes were drawn to the fine wool boat-neck jumper that her friend was holding up.

Alice smiled. ‘My mother made it. Must have taken her ages, it’s got all these complicated bits at the cuffs. See, these pearl buttons.’

Edith felt the delicate cuffs and sighed. ‘It’s just your colour, Al. Turquoise blue.’

Alice had dark blonde hair that she nearly always wore up, as it was more practical for work, but this evening it hung down to her shoulders. ‘She’s had the wool for ages, waiting for the right moment to make me something.’

‘That’s lovely.’ Edith didn’t say anything more but she didn’t have to. Alice could tell she was thinking of her own mother, who scarcely bothered to send a Christmas card, and never remembered her daughter’s birthday. There had been no special festive gift in the post, not this year or any year that she could recall. Then again, Edith was from a big family and Alice was an only child.

‘I don’t know why we didn’t think of doing this before,’ she said, folding the new jumper and carefully placing it in her dressing-table drawer. ‘It always seems such a long journey back to Liverpool, but meeting halfway wasn’t nearly as bad. My father’s always wanted to see Stratford.’

Edith nodded. ‘Bet he wouldn’t have been quite so keen when the Luftwaffe were bombing Coventry. A bit close for comfort, isn’t it?’

‘True. But they haven’t done that for ages.’ Alice brought out a brightly coloured tin from the bottom of the bag. ‘As you’re eating only dry toast, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in my mother’s spicy biscuits.’

Edith immediately sat up. ‘I could make an exception for those. Besides, ginger is good for nausea, as you must know, Nurse Lake. Go on, hand them over.’

Alice grinned as she passed the tin to Edith and then sat down beside her, moving the empty bag to the rag rug on the floor.

‘What have I missed? I know it’s only been a few days but it feels like ages.’

Edith finished her mouthful before replying. ‘As it happens you have missed something. The two new nurses have arrived. One’s had to go into the broom cupboard downstairs as I’ve not thrown in the towel yet.’ Her eyes flashed defiantly.

‘Well, they’ve done it up, haven’t they, so it isn’t a cupboard any more,’ said Alice, not getting drawn in to Edith’s mood. ‘They’d started before I left. It won’t be too bad.’

‘She seems nice,’ Edith reported. ‘Well, maybe a bit green, but we must all have been like that when we started out on the district for the first time.’

‘I was very nervous,’ Alice recalled, casting her mind back to the day when she and Edith had come to Victory Walk together, just weeks before the war began. That made them virtually veterans.

‘Her name’s Ruby,’ Edith went on, ‘and the other one is Lily. She’s from Liverpool too. I wonder if you know each other?’

Alice laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Liverpool’s a pretty big place, you know.’

Edith shrugged. ‘Yes, but it’s possible, isn’t it? She sounds a bit like you, though her accent’s stronger – even more than yours was when you first left home.’

Alice smiled at the memory. ‘Maybe … but there are loads of hospitals in and around there. The doctors and nurses I knew back then could be anywhere by now, posted to all four corners of the globe.’

Edith nodded, knowing full well that this was the case for everyone – families, friends, colleagues now split up, sent to wherever they were of most use. Her own brothers were now serving in the forces – not that she was in touch with them much. ‘Shall we go down for the evening meal, then? Hasn’t travelling given you an appetite?’

Alice sat back, eyebrows raised. ‘What, do you actually feel like eating?’

Edith nodded with determination. ‘Must have been the magic properties of your mother’s biscuits. Suddenly I feel as if I could eat a horse.’

‘Careful what you wish for,’ Alice said cheerfully, getting to her feet. ‘Maybe better sticking to the lentil rissoles.’

‘Don’t really care,’ said Edith, standing up and brushing crumbs from her faded green skirt. ‘Lentils, horse, I’ll eat the lot.’

Alice followed her down the corridor and stairs, beaming at the idea that her friend finally wanted to eat something, knowing that she had been so sick.

Lily tucked into her breakfast with relish. It had been hours and hours since she’d eaten properly. The day before she had had an early evening meal and then found she had forgotten to buy any snacks to leave in her service-room locker, for those occasions when she needed something extra between the canteen mealtimes.

She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Somehow on her morning rounds she would find a moment to visit a shop or a stall and see what was available. Three meals a day were provided for the nurses, but it was hard work riding on those old boneshaker bikes around the still-unfamiliar streets of Dalston, and she needed more fuel.

It was a wonderful novelty to have porridge ready and waiting rather than having to cook it herself. Even if there wasn’t much sugar to put in it, let alone cream or fruit, simply sitting down to something warm and filling to begin the day was very welcome. She wondered if she would get used to it, take it for granted. But it was still her first week and the joy had yet to wear off.

There weren’t many others up at this early hour. Lily had been awoken by the rumbling of her stomach. Good job she had the lovely bedroom to herself and there was nobody else to hear. While it was not exactly luxurious, the room was better than any she’d had before. It was on a corner of the building, with one window facing over the front gate and the opposite terrace of Victory Walk, the other at right angles giving a view over neighbouring rooftops. She could see the havoc the Blitz had wrought on the area, but also catch the last rays of the setting sun, if she was back on time. That would only get better once spring came.

The porridge had been served to her by a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with scraped-back straight brown hair and shadows of tiredness under her eyes, but with a bright manner that suggested she was used to being up and about at this unearthly hour. Lily had been unsure of how to behave with her. At her previous nurses’ home, she had cultivated a gracious manner with the various helpers, showing that she was friendly but that her position of a trained professional must be respected. She didn’t want to appear too patronising; you never knew when you might need a favour. Yet she had to admit she saw herself as above those who cooked and cleaned, keeping the medical establishments ticking over.

She had been prepared to extend the same attitude to this young woman, but then one of the others had mentioned in passing that Gladys was also a nurse with the Civil Nursing Reserve. That made Lily feel slightly confused. Should she treat the young woman with an air of friendliness tinged with rightfully earned superiority, or acknowledge her as an equal? Yet the Reserve weren’t as well-trained as regular nurses, were they? Some had served for many hours in hospitals, though, as well as at first-aid outposts; there they would have had to cope with whatever horrors the bombings threw at them until the ARP could organise ambulances to bear the casualties away. It was a dilemma.

Somebody had dropped into conversation that Gladys worked all day at the nurses’ home, including the early start, then helped to look after her many younger siblings at home before spending most evenings at a first-aid post at a local church hall. That would explain the dark rings under her eyes. Perhaps condescension was the wrong approach. Lily had smiled gratefully when collecting her porridge, deciding she would bide her time with this one.

It also helped explain why everyone was expected to fetch their food from the kitchen hatch and then collect their used plates, bowls and cutlery and take them to a counter at the end of the room, ready to be washed. Gladys and the cook couldn’t spare the time to wait upon the nurses. Lily decided she didn’t mind, even though – on the few occasions she had been in a restaurant – she had loved being waited on. A sigh escaped her. Not much chance of that at the moment.

As she set her empty bowl down on the battered countertop, two figures came through the canteen door, talking earnestly. They sat at a table in the far corner, too intent on their conversation to pay her any attention. One, the smaller woman with dark hair, was Edith, who had been kind that first night and brought over the cocoa. Lily hadn’t seen much of her since.

The other young woman was a good half a head taller, with dark blonde hair – or would it be better classified as light brown, Lily wondered, proud as ever of her own true blonde locks? Then she looked again more closely. The dawn was still to break fully and the light was not the best, but still that taller nurse seemed familiar somehow. Lily wrinkled her nose in concentration.

She’d seen her before, no doubt about it. Lily hadn’t been in London for long enough to have met anyone apart from here at the home, or the patients. That couldn’t be it. Back in Liverpool, then? Someone passing through one of the hospitals?

Or … or … the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Not passing through. Someone who had trained at the same place that Lily had, although maybe a year or two ahead of her. But they had overlapped, and she was certain that they knew people in common.

What on earth was her name? Lily drummed her fingers against the counter. Somebody had actually mentioned the name to her recently. Of course. That tall nurse on the far side of the room was Alice Lake.

CHAPTER FOUR

Edith knocked on the front door and then opened it, without waiting for an answer. The knock was just for politeness’ sake; she didn’t really have to let anyone know she was here. This house was practically her home, and as soon as she had to give up work this was where she would be living. Three generations of the Banham family were to be found under this roof, and they had never been anything but welcoming – to her and to any of her friends.

‘Come on in,’ she said to Ruby, who was shyly hanging back.

‘Are you sure they won’t mind?’ Ruby asked for the umpteenth time that morning. She drew her cloak around her against the bitterly cold wind as she hesitated on the doorstep of the terraced house.

‘Not a bit, they’ll be glad to meet you. Now get yourself inside before all the heat goes out of the door.’ Edith knew that her mother-in-law, Flo, would have the range stoked up in the kitchen at the back and she could feel its warmth radiating down the corridor, but it wouldn’t do to let the temperature drop. Fuel was not easy to come by.

Ruby gingerly stepped inside. She had been delighted when Edith, who had rather taken her under her wing, had invited her to the Banham family home, but now she was having second thoughts. She was not used to people opening their doors to strangers. Her mother never had anyone round and her sister would have been highly suspicious of the invitation. Ruby could hear her now: why would anyone want to meet you, Ruby? What makes you think they’d be interested?

Before she could change her mind, a small child ran into the corridor from a door at the far end, swiftly followed by a woman of around Edith’s age.

‘Edie, Edie!’ shouted the child, holding out two arms to be picked up. As the figure approached, the light from the front fanlight showed it to be a little boy. Edith immediately bent down and lifted him up, even as the other woman protested.

‘Edie, you’re meant to be taking it easy! Alan, what have I told you!’ she scolded, but Ruby could tell she wasn’t really cross. Her tone was full of exasperated affection.

‘I know, I know, but he’s not doing any harm. Are you, Alan? Down you go.’ Edith set the toddler back on the ground. ‘You don’t need to wrap me in cotton wool, I’m not half as sick as at the beginning.’ She led the way into the room at the back, and Ruby followed, drawn by the promise of warmth and the enticing smell of something cooking.

‘Mattie, this is Ruby.’ Edith made the full introductions as they stepped into the muted winter sunlight of the big room.

Ruby stopped biting her lip and smiled at Edith’s sister-in-law, who gave her a lively smile back. Ruby couldn’t help but notice her hair was a complete mess, escaping from pins on both sides, a chunk of it ineffectively tied back at an odd angle. For some reason it helped to settle her nerves. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for having me.’

‘Not at all. Any friend of Edie is a friend of ours,’ Mattie insisted, nudging Alan out of the way as she turned around. ‘Ma, is the kettle on? Our visitors are here.’

Ruby looked towards the door at the far side of the room, which appeared to lead to a back kitchen, as a bustling figure came through – a middle-aged woman, with greying hair and faded apron, but who moved as swiftly as her daughter. ‘Oh, you’re here, Edie!’ she called in evident delight. ‘And your new friend too. Come in, come in … Hasn’t Mattie taken your coats? Whatever were you thinking of, Mattie? Now do sit down and tell me how you’re settling in.’

Edith grinned wryly as Ruby took a small step back, caught in the full beam of her mother-in-law’s energetic welcome. She slipped off her own worn winter coat and cheerfully took Ruby’s cloak, as Mattie was busy keeping Alan out from under their feet by steering him towards his toys under the window.

There was a rocking chair near the range, and Flo indicated that Ruby should take it. Then she swung the large tin kettle onto the hot plate. Ruby’s professional brain registered that the older woman winced slightly as she lifted its heavy weight, and noticed that her wrist and fingers were swollen. The cold weather must have brought on a bout of arthritis, but Flo was obviously determined to ignore it.

‘So, now, how are you finding the nurses’ home?’ she asked her guest.

Ruby cleared her throat. ‘I like it,’ she said honestly. ‘Everyone’s been very kind.’

Flo nodded, as if this was only proper and what she would have expected.

‘I’m still getting used to where everything is,’ she admitted. ‘Inside the house and out of it, I mean. I haven’t been to the East End before. It’s taking a while to get my bearings.’

Flo’s face creased in sympathy. ‘It will do, I expect. You’ll have to learn all the alleyways and shortcuts, won’t you, nipping from patient to patient like you do. Then you got to keep away from all the potholes and what-nots. Our streets ain’t like they were before, that’s for certain.’ She paused as the kettle began to whistle.

‘I’ll do it, Ma.’ Mattie stepped in, bringing a large china teapot across the room. ‘You’ll both have a cuppa, won’t you.’ It wasn’t really a question. Tea might be rationed but that didn’t mean a guest would ever go thirsty, or not in this house.

Edith nodded for both of them. ‘I remember getting completely lost when I first came.’ She laughed at the thought. ‘Seems like ages ago now, things have changed so much. You get the hang of it before long.’

‘Hope so,’ Ruby replied.

‘And have you been to the market yet?’ Flo wanted to know, settling herself on the old sofa with its much-mended cushions. ‘That’s the place to pick up what’s really going on, never mind what you hear on the wireless.’

‘Not yet.’ Ruby could sense disapproval at this. ‘I’ve seen it though. I thought I’d go back when I have a day off. It looks bigger than the one near my house – my old house, I mean.’

‘I’ll take you,’ Edith offered. ‘It’s always best to get to know the stallholders, then you get a better bargain. We know some of them pretty well.’

‘Especially Brendan,’ Mattie said. ‘He’s also an ARP warden, works in the same section as my dad. You get Edie to introduce you and he’ll always see you right.’

‘Helps to know the ARP wardens too,’ Edith added cheerfully. ‘The other one in their section is Billy, and he went to school with Mattie.’

‘And now he’s married my best friend Kath from school, so we see a lot of him,’ Mattie chipped in as she poured the tea into cups arranged on the big dining table. ‘Sometimes I mind their little girl – she’s about a year younger than Alan. Or sometimes my friend minds him, cos I work in a factory most of the time. I got today off cos I worked a double shift yesterday.’ She came across with a cup and saucer for each of her guests.

Edith took hers gratefully. ‘So you’ve gone full time now, then?’

Mattie nodded, taking a cup for herself and one for her mother. ‘They need as many workers as they can get. It’s much easier for me, now that Gillian’s started school – that’s my eldest.’

‘How’s she getting on?’ Edith wanted to know.

Mattie raised her eyebrows. ‘Only been there a week or so and she’s practically running the place already. You know what she’s like. It’s strange to think of her in the same classroom as we used to be in.’

Flo sipped her tea and gave a nostalgic smile. ‘It’s no time at all since she was a baby.’ She glanced across the room to where a large wooden cot was pushed against the far wall. ‘Remember how she used to sleep there while you helped me with the housework, Mattie? And then Kath would bring Brian round and they’d share it.’

Ruby glanced over to the cot.

‘Yes, we never got around to moving it,’ said Flo happily. ‘First Gillian and Brian, and not that long afterwards, Alan here, and little Barbara as often as not. Used to nap in it when they were tiny and then it’s as good as a playpen once they get crawling. Not long before your baby has its turn, Edie.’

Edith laughed in acknowledgement and Ruby widened her eyes.

‘It’s due in June, but don’t worry, I’ll have to give up work before then,’ Edith said, mistaking Ruby’s expression. ‘So you won’t have to sleep in the broom cupboard for ever.’

‘Oh, it’s not that.’ Ruby hurriedly put her right, but couldn’t say what it was that had bothered her. It would sound silly in this generously sized room with its generous family, but something about the cot had shocked her.

Her mother had always been extremely proud of the fact that – even though she and Ruby’s father had been short of money and space – the twins had never needed to share anything. It had been some kind of point of honour: whatever misfortunes might befall the family, Colin and Beryl would not be lumped together, but would have their own clothes and little beds. Not for them the big, unwieldy prams with a baby at either end. People who did that to their children were to be disapproved of, condemned even. As if it showed they didn’t love them enough.

Yet here were a mother and grandmother who obviously doted on the children, and those of their friends too, who had no problem with them sharing a cot. Ruby knew on one level there was no sense in her reaction; as a nurse she knew there would be little risk to the children, providing normal rules of hygiene were observed, and this house was as clean as any could be with a toddler around. It was yet another part of the way she had been brought up, she realised, having extra things to worry about that simply didn’t bother most people. It was a burden she feared she could not shake.

‘Have you heard from Harry?’ Mattie asked Edith.

Edith turned to Ruby. ‘That’s my husband,’ she explained. ‘He’s just got a posting as a PT instructor with the army, and he’s had to move up north – we won’t see him for months now.’ Automatically one hand went to her stomach where there was just the beginning of a new bump. ‘He’s not a great one for letter writing, so all I know is that he’s arrived.’

Mattie grimaced. ‘He’s better at it than Lennie is – sorry, he’s my husband. He’s been a prisoner of war since Dunkirk. Never was much good at writing home and now he doesn’t have much chance to.’ She smiled as if she had grown used to the situation, and that would have fooled anyone but Edith and her mother. They were well aware that she was covering her daily heartbreak with a show of bravery.

‘Oh, that must be hard,’ Ruby said, realising that this young woman had some very genuine causes for concern. ‘My brother’s in the navy. You can’t help worrying.’

Mattie nodded. ‘That’s true enough. As for my big brother, Joe’s in the navy as well and we never know where he is or what he’s doing. That’s unless Alice has said anything?’ She looked hopefully at Edith.

Edith shook her head. ‘I don’t think she’s heard from him since New Year. She always tells me if there’s any news from him.’ Once again she felt obliged to explain to Ruby. ‘Joe’s good friends with Alice, and everyone always teases them that there’s more to it, but really it’s because they’re the only ones among us who read all the papers and follow current affairs. She’s always been like that and the war has made her even worse – you’ll soon find out, if you ever try to get her head out of a book.’

‘They’re the brainy ones all right,’ Mattie agreed. ‘Most of us haven’t got a clue what they’re on about half the time. Still, that’s not much use to either of them now. Didn’t she think he was in Italy, or on the way there?’

‘It was a guess,’ said Edith sadly. ‘I’ll tell you if I hear, of course I will.’

Ruby let the conversation flow on around her, enjoying being part of the warmth of the group but not joining in. The heat from the range was enough to make her pleasantly drowsy. Somehow it felt more like a home than her own. She shifted a little in the chair, knowing her thoughts were disloyal, and her gaze fell upon an open newspaper, tucked behind a cushion. It had been folded to show a photo, a little blurred, of prisoners of war opening Christmas presents. She wondered if Mattie had searched the men’s faces for her own husband’s, hoping for confirmation that he was still alive and safe, or at least at the time the picture had been taken, a few weeks ago now. It must be horribly difficult.

Edith noticed her movement and turned to her. ‘We ought to be going,’ she said, her voice full of reluctance. ‘Sorry to drag you away, Ruby, but I promised to help restock the district room this afternoon. It’s my turn. We had better make a move.’ She rose, pausing to ruffle Alan on the head as he raced by with his toy plane. ‘We’ll see you again soon. Thanks for the tea.’

‘Don’t stay away so long this time,’ Flo scolded, as Mattie went to fetch the coats. She gently took Ruby’s arm for a second. ‘That means you too, Ruby. We said it before; any friend of Edith’s is a friend of ours. Even if you aren’t as far away from your family as some of your colleagues, if you ever want a bit of home comfort then we’re always here. You make sure you remember that.’

Ruby swallowed hard. ‘I will,’ she said.

Walking back to the high road that ran between the Banham household on Jeeves Street and the side road that led to Victory Walk, Edith noticed that the new nurse was very quiet. ‘You all right, Ruby?’

‘Of course.’

‘Because you don’t need to worry; like I said, I will have to give up work in the not-too-distant future and then you’ll have my room on the top floor, up next to Alice and along from Mary. I just hope you aren’t too uncomfortable in the meantime.’

They stopped and waited at the kerb for the Liverpool Street bus to go by, and Ruby gave a small smile. ‘Really,’ she told Edith, ‘I don’t mind. I like it.’

Edith frowned. ‘But you must be able to hear everyone coming and going. Isn’t that annoying? I’d be annoyed.’ She stuck her hands into the patch pockets of her coat, feeling around for her gloves.

Ruby shrugged, a little embarrassed. ‘I’m a heavy sleeper so I don’t get woken up easily. Then sometimes it’s useful.’ She almost stopped but then ploughed on, despite having to admit her ignorance. ‘I didn’t know what to do about my Gladstone bag. I knew I was meant to refill it but I’d forgotten how – we never did it on our own when we were training and I felt a fool for not knowing.’ The bus left the stop near them and they crossed the wide road. ‘Then I heard voices and so stuck my head out. Two of the others – the one with the posh voice and the very tall one with black hair …’

‘Mary and Belinda, I bet.’

‘Yes, that’s it. Well, they were about to restock their bags and so I asked if the room opposite was where everything was kept. They said yes and showed me what to do. So you see, it’s the ideal place.’

Edith looked up at the new nurse, with her pale face and sharp features, noticing for the first time the reserves of humour in her grey eyes. ‘I’m pleased to hear it!’ she said with some relief. ‘I hated to think I was stopping you settling in.’

Ruby shook her head. ‘No, it’s quite the opposite,’ she said with feeling. As they walked on past the tall terraced houses she reflected that she had truly struck it lucky – getting to know Edith had not only helped her at the nurses’ home, but now she had also seen a taste of family life that, if she was honest, made her ever so slightly jealous. What she wouldn’t give to have a warm welcome like that to go back to.

CHAPTER FIVE

Lily was grateful to be back indoors and out of the freezing January wind. She set down her Gladstone bag and rubbed her hands, trying to bring circulation back into her fingers. She’d only just managed to work the brakes on her rickety old bike, she was so chilly. Those bikes were terrible to ride, far worse than the one she’d had during her training in Liverpool. It was a wonder that none of the nurses had come a cropper.

She decided to head straight for the service room and get herself a hot drink. Restocking the bag could wait. She’d only fumble everything while her fingers were cold and stiff, she thought, hurrying down the short flight of steps at the end of the corridor and into the common room.

Others had clearly had the same idea, and several nurses were huddled around the fire burning in the grate on the far side of the big room. Lily hastily made a cup of tea and then went to join them. ‘Room for another,’ said one of the Irish nurses as she let Lily squeeze in. ‘I’m late already, so I’ll see you all later,’ she called over her shoulder as she headed off.

Lily edged into the vacant carver chair that either Bridget or Ellen – she couldn’t remember which was which – had left behind. She sighed in relief as the warmth from the fire hit her, making her tingle all over. ‘That’s better,’ she breathed.

‘I’ll say.’ The tall, dark-haired nurse raised her eyebrows in sympathy. ‘Bit of a shocker out there today, isn’t it?’

Lily nodded, her teeth chattering a little against the rim of her cup as she raised it to her mouth. She knew it was important to appear to be friendly but she didn’t want to seem weak. ‘It certainly is, but I’m used to it. It gets pretty cold where I’m from.’

Belinda smiled. ‘Liverpool, wasn’t it? Alice says it rains a lot there.’

Lily took another sip. ‘It does, there’s no denying it. Is Nurse Lake back from her rounds yet? I’ve hardly seen her since I moved in, but it would be nice to talk to her, given that we come from the same place.’

The nurse on her other side frowned. ‘No, she’s teaching one of the WVS groups today,’ she said in a refined accent. ‘She’ll be gone all day, I expect. I’m sure she’d be glad to, though, another time.’

Lily could finally feel her hands properly. ‘Well, we’re bound to see each other soon, then.’ She tried hard to remember this nurse’s name. Mary, that was it. And the tall one was Belinda.

‘How were your rounds today?’ Belinda was asking now.

Lily set down her cup on the nearest table. ‘Oh, nothing I couldn’t handle,’ she said lightly. ‘One of the women was making a right fuss over nothing. You’d think nobody had ever had flu before. She kept asking me for a new vaccine, said she’d read about it in the paper, and that she wanted it for her family. I had to tell her she couldn’t have any such thing and that her little boy would get better as long as she kept him in bed.’

Mary looked puzzled. ‘I haven’t heard about a vaccine.’

Belinda grinned. ‘Yes, but you hardly ever read the papers, Mary. Don’t worry, it won’t affect us. It’s a new thing the Americans are giving to their servicemen. It wasn’t exactly in the headlines.’

‘I’m sure if it was important then Charles would have told me,’ Mary replied staunchly, unconcerned that Belinda was teasing her.

‘In that case I’m surprised this woman knew about it,’ Lily said, keen to keep Mary on side. ‘It didn’t look like the sort of house where people read very much.’

Belinda widened her eyes at this but didn’t comment directly. Instead she said, ‘Was this a place just off Cricketfield Road by any chance?’

Lily paused to think. She was still trying to remember the names of the streets. ‘Yes. Yes it was.’

Belinda nodded. ‘Thought so. It’s the Peterson family, isn’t it? I’ve treated them before now.’

Lily shrugged. ‘Yes, I think that was her name. Mrs Peterson. And her little boy is Bobby.’

‘Oh, I know who you mean now,’ Mary said. ‘No wonder she was upset. She can’t help it. She’s terrified of the flu; happens every winter, of course, but this year there’s been a bit of an epidemic and that’s made it worse. Poor soul, I hadn’t realised that her little boy had gone down with it or I might have popped in.’

Lily was confused. People got flu all the time; what could possibly be so different about this family? They’d all been in a right state and she’d had to struggle hard not to show her impatience with them.

‘Mrs Peterson’s parents caught the Spanish flu when it was going round at the end of the Great War,’ Belinda explained. ‘They both died. It was especially sad because her father hadn’t long got back from fighting. He’d survived the trenches only to be killed by the flu. She was brought up by her aunt and she must have put the fear of God into her about it. She’s always extra-careful about hygiene but it looks as if her son’s gone and caught it anyway.’

Lily bit back her annoyance. She couldn’t possibly have known but now she’d come across as uncaring. It made her dislike the family even more. ‘Well, he’s in no danger,’ she pointed out. ‘He seemed a healthy little thing otherwise. He’ll be over it in no time.’

Mary nodded. ‘He probably will. I might go round anyhow, just to reassure her.’

Lily wanted to snap in exasperation; hadn’t she reassured the woman, despite her being so aggravating? But it would do no good to object.

‘At least people are better fed now,’ Belinda pointed out. ‘I know we all complain about the rationing but it does mean that families like that have better nutrition than they would have done otherwise. He most likely got it from school. You can’t stop kiddies passing it on when they’re all over each other in the playground.’

Mary brightened up. ‘We could use that as an excuse to visit the local schools and give them extra hygiene lessons. We haven’t done that for ages. Remind them that washing their hands properly isn’t just something their mothers tell them for the sake of it.’

‘Good idea. We could speak to Janet.’ Belinda’s expression grew animated. ‘That’s a teacher we’re friendly with. She’s very keen on that sort of thing, that’s how we know her in the first place – she got Alice in to teach the little ones how to brush their teeth, ages ago.’

‘Oh.’ Lily wasn’t sure how to react. It looked as if her casual comment had spawned a whole lot of extra work for her colleagues. That hadn’t been her intention at all. She’d better leave before they roped her in any further. ‘Nice talking to you,’ she said hurriedly, ‘but I’d better go and see to my bag as I’m running low on lots of things. See you later.’ She headed for the door as quickly as she could without seeming rude.

‘Golly,’ said Mary when she’d gone. ‘Was it something we said?’

There was no better way to end a shift, even one that involved teaching rather than nursing, than to come back and find a letter, thought Alice, picking up the envelope from the special shelf near the front door. Telegrams usually meant bad news; postcards cheered you up but never actually said much and besides, everyone could read what was written on the back. Letters were special.

Particularly ones with this handwriting on the front. Alice tucked it into her pocket as she went upstairs to her attic bedroom, singing to herself in anticipation. She had heard nothing from Joe for six weeks, unless you counted the quick note at New Year. That wasn’t a proper letter. True, it had been a relief to get it, confirming he was still alive at any rate, but it wasn’t like pages of news, his opinions and thoughts on what he’d read recently. Joe had the knack of making his writing sound just like how he spoke, so that she could imagine him sitting opposite her, telling her what he’d been doing, what he’d heard on the wireless, funny observations of his life as an engineer in the Navy.

She didn’t rush to open the envelope, but changed out of her uniform, wrapped herself in her new turquoise jumper and made herself comfortable, before reaching for her little paperknife and carefully slitting the flap, edging out the flimsy sheets from inside.

Alice had grown into the habit of skimming the whole letter from start to finish, almost as a way of ensuring it contained no bad news. She knew it was silly and superstitious but she did it anyway. Obviously if Joe had been able to write the letter, seal it and post it, he must be all right – or at least up until the time of sending it. Yet the habit had stuck. She would then go back and reread the whole thing through, slowly, savouring every sentence.

Running her eyes over the words now, she reflected that he’d already had one near miss that she knew of; she couldn’t be sure if there had been others that he’d not mentioned for fear of worrying her. Or perhaps it was more that he didn’t want to worry his family. When he had one of his leaves, which was all too rare, she and he would talk about anything and everything, no subject off limits, no matter how uncomfortable. Yet Joe would know that whatever he wrote to her would end up being shared with his family. He couldn’t expect Alice to keep news to herself when she was so close to Edith and to all the Banhams.

She released a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding as she reached his signature on the last page. No accidents, no brushes with death this time. Every time he wrote with no tales of close escapes, she felt it was one step closer to his surviving the war. She knew there was no logic to it, but felt it keenly all the same.

Leaning back on her pillows she began to reread the pages, laughing at his description of his messmates, but realising he had given absolutely no indication of where he was. While a direct statement would have fallen foul of the censor, Joe usually got around it by naming a book or author that was associated with the location. But there was nothing here. The only books he spoke of were ones he’d recently read. For a while they had tried to read the same ones so that they could swap notes afterwards, but after he had left his base in Plymouth it had become too difficult; he had to make do with whatever was available, exchanging books with his crewmates. Alice sighed again, in sympathy. It was easy for her to wander up the road to the lending library. She counted herself lucky.

Where was he, and when was he coming home, she wondered. It felt like half a lifetime since she’d seen him. She found it difficult to admit, even to herself, just how much she missed him. They never spoke of their feelings for each other, insisting that it was purely friendship. With the war separating them by force, this was simply practical.

However, Alice knew that they had a special connection, something only they could share. Joe was the one person who totally understood her, to whom she could say anything. It wasn’t solely that they were both avid readers or followers of current affairs, though that was what those on the outside usually commented on. It went far deeper than that and she struggled to put a name to it. There was a sensation of being connected in a way that defied description. Even though she was close to her parents, and extremely close to Edith, somehow her friendship with Joe was on another level.

It was not a fanciful romance, though. Alice had been badly hurt before and was determined never to risk her heart again. When first training as a nurse in the big hospital back in Liverpool, she had fallen hard for a young doctor, Mark. They had planned a future together and she had never doubted him – until he left her, not for another woman but for something altogether more potent: a cause. He had gone to fight in the Spanish Civil War and she had been abandoned. Even to this day she scarcely ever spoke of it. Her parents knew and so did Edith, but she had seen no reason to tell anybody else.

This determination had come unravelled when one of the other doctors from the old days, Mark’s best friend Dermot McGillicuddy, had briefly turned up in Dalston, working as a locum. Alice had learnt that Mark had survived Spain and knew that he was now a doctor at a base on the south coast, as was Dermot. That was all she wished to know. He was nothing to her any more and she had no desire to reopen such a painful wound.

A knock on the door brought her out of her daydreams, and Edith poked her head inside the cosy room. ‘Time for tea!’ she called brightly, and then stopped at the sight of the letter. She too instantly recognised the handwriting. ‘Oh, Al, how is he?’ she cried eagerly. ‘Has he got leave? Does he say?’

Alice shook her head and fought hard to hide her disappointment. Edith had enough on her plate, she didn’t need to see how much her friend had been hoping for just that very news.

‘Not yet,’ she said with a brightness that sounded horribly false to her ears. ‘But soon. He’s bound to come back soon.’

CHAPTER SIX

Lily was still in a bad mood the next morning. It being a Saturday, she had no rounds, and she decided to do something to cheer herself up. If she had been home in Liverpool she would have gone into the city centre, even though so much of it had been destroyed by bombs. She sighed, remembering how she had loved to go to John Lewis in the sales. Not much chance of that now.

She considered making a trip to the West End, to see if there was anything on offer in the big shops on Oxford Street, but knew from what she’d overheard in the canteen that the buses were often disrupted and the whole expedition could take the best part of a day. Really, it was too bad. She didn’t want to spend her day off cooped up in the nurses’ home. She was sure that Mary and Belinda would have thought badly of her after yesterday’s conversation. She had to hope they’d forget about it if she stayed out of their way for a while.

Her gaze fell on her collection of cosmetics, carefully set out on the dressing table next to the window. Light was peeping from behind the curtains and she could make out the outlines of her lipstick, mascara and powder compacts, all several years old and reaching the end of their serviceable lives. She’d been eking them out even before she applied for the transfer to London, keeping them for special occasions. She hadn’t yet stooped to using boot polish instead of mascara, but that day was not too far off. She shuddered as she swung her legs out of bed, edging her feet around the rag rug until they made contact with her slippers.

Then she remembered what one of her patients had said yesterday morning, before the visit to the little boy with flu had driven it from her mind. The young woman had cut her arm on broken glass from a bomb-damaged window, and needed her stitches taken out. She’d had slippers very similar to Lily’s own – that was what had reminded her. They had been trimmed with pale apricot ribbons, with a little bow at the back, and Lily had admired them. This had been a useful distraction as the young woman was still talking about them as Lily removed the stitches.

Then she had mentioned that a chemist’s shop not too far away was rumoured to be getting some cosmetic supplies. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go, I’ll have to see how I feel tomorrow, but you should try it,’ she’d said, gingerly rubbing her injured arm. ‘It’s easy to find.’

Lily knew that if there was anything to be had then it would be expensive, but she reckoned it would be a worthwhile purchase. An investment. You couldn’t put a price on looking good. It made her feel better if she dressed up smartly, and it wasn’t big-headed to notice that plenty of bystanders enjoyed the way she looked as well. You could say that she was doing them a service, giving them a moment of pleasure in their dull day.

Carefully she chose an outfit – not too gaudy but stylish, a cream blouse with a pin-tucked bodice, teamed with a warm russet skirt with a little flare to it. She knew it swung around her knees as she walked. Perfect.

After a hurried breakfast sitting by herself in the corner of the canteen, pretending to read a magazine so that nobody would try to talk to her, she made good her escape, along Victory Walk and down the side street to the main road through Dalston. Remembering her patient’s instructions, she headed south, through the busy crowds of weekend shoppers. She passed the end of the market, tempting but unlikely to sell what she’d set her heart upon. She could always drop by on the way back.

She was entering new territory now, beyond the roads she was slowly becoming familiar with. These houses would be covered by a different team of district nurses, living in another nurses’ home. Lily smiled, drawing the collar of her maroon coat more tightly around her neck. There would be nobody she knew to see her, so it wouldn’t matter if she failed to buy what she was after.

She peered at the signs above the shops, looking for the right number. What a long road it was. Perhaps her patient had got it wrong? She hoped it wouldn’t be a wild goose chase after all.

Then it became clear which was the right shop, as she noticed women gathering around a doorway. Lily realised it was a rather unruly queue. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing; would it mean there was a better chance that the rumour was right, or would whatever stock there might have been already be sold out?

Well, there was no point in turning back now. Lily took her place behind a middle-aged woman who, Lily thought unkindly, could certainly do with a bit of makeup to improve her appearance. She looked down at her pretty brown boots so that her less than generous thoughts did not show on her face.

Two younger women joined the queue behind her, jostling each other, their hair caught up in bright scarves. From their conversation Lily guessed they had come direct from a shift at a nearby factory. She idly listened in as one complained that they were having to work even longer hours than usual.

‘Makes you think something’s up,’ she finished.

‘Stop it, you mustn’t say that,’ her friend replied, elbowing the first girl in the ribs. ‘Loose lips sink ships, ain’t that what they tell you on the wireless? You’re just lazy.’

‘Lazy! I just worked twelve hours straight through and I’m going back this evening for fire-watching,’ the first girl groaned, shuffling forward a little.

Lily was inside the door now, gazing around the small shop. Whoever owned it had done their best to make it appear that there was a lot for sale, but the gaps on the shelves were painfully evident. Everything was spaced out as far as could be, and the products, such as they were, stood only one item deep along the shelves. Bright posters advertised Tangee and Helena Rubinstein cosmetics, but Lily couldn’t see any of those once-familiar boxes.

All the same, the pictures strengthened her resolve to buy something, anything, to give herself some of that glamour. Finally reaching the front of the queue, she drew a breath. Painting on her brightest smile, she did her best to make eye contact with the elderly man behind the counter. ‘Do you have any lipstick?’ she asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

His eyes were semi-hidden behind thick glasses. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Just sold the last one.’

Lily could have screamed. Had that old woman in front of her pipped her at the post? She drew another breath, slower this time. ‘How about mascara? Or face powder?’

The old man shook his head, his face almost expressionless. Lily decided that he’d probably already made a packet this morning, and all these remaining disappointed customers were a waste of his time. ‘Maybe not the ones in their original packaging …’ she added, dropping her voice.

His chin came up a little – he was scarcely taller than she was. ‘I’ll tell you what we do have,’ he said confidingly. ‘As you probably know, materials to make powder compacts are hard to get hold of. Government says all the metal and suchlike have to go for munitions. Can’t even get the wherewithal for a powder puff.’ Lily nodded encouragingly, wishing he’d come to the point. ‘But we get little blocks of powder, no puff, and you can slip them into whatever compact you’ve already got,’ he went on. ‘How would that suit you?’

Normally Lily would have demurred, played the game, hoping not to seem too eager and keen to negotiate. But this morning she sensed that any delay would see her leaving the grim little shop with precisely nothing. ‘Hmm, not quite what I was after, but yes, that would do,’ she said, and watched as the shopkeeper’s hand darted beneath the counter and reappeared with a cardboard box, small and plain but for some dull lines of print. She almost gasped at the eye-watering price he named, but then reminded herself she had known this little expedition wouldn’t be cheap. Pursing her lips she handed over the money, turned on her heel and hurried back outside.

‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry.’ A man standing just by the door knocked against her shoulder, making her stumble. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming through. Are you all right? Not hurt?’

Lily instinctively checked her coat pocket for the box of face powder – that was the most important thing. ‘No, no, I’m not hurt at all,’ she assured him. As her eyes adjusted to the daylight back on the street, she noticed with some satisfaction that this man was the virtual opposite of the miserable mean old shopkeeper. He was tall, for a start, with a head of dark brown hair, slicked back but not showily so. He was perhaps thirty, maybe a little older. His eyes crinkled with good humour and she could see that he liked what he saw when he looked at her. Best of all, he was definitely handsome. He put her in mind of Clark Gable.

She smiled at him, certain that her cheeks would be flushed gently pink as she emerged into the cold winter air once more.

‘There’s quite a crowd here,’ he observed. ‘I’d hoped to buy some lipstick for my sister as a belated Christmas present, but it would seem I’m out of luck.’

‘Me too,’ said Lily, thinking that bumping into this handsome man was no bad luck at all. ‘I’ll just have to manage without, I suppose.’ She gave him another bright smile.

‘That would be a shame.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘This country needs our ladies to look their best. It’s good for morale.’

Lily pretended to look down in modesty. ‘So they say.’ She glanced up again.

‘If you don’t mind me saying, I’d lay good money on you looking like a film star when you wear lipstick,’ he grinned.

Lily knew he was stringing her along but couldn’t resist it. It had been ages since she’d been flirted with by anyone remotely interesting. ‘I hardly ever get the chance,’ she said primly.

‘What, you don’t wear it for work? You’re not a model, then?’

She laughed at that. ‘Of course not. I’m a nurse, as it happens.’

He nodded approvingly. ‘In that case, your patients are very lucky.’

‘I’m sure it’s very kind of you to say so.’ She brought her hand to her collar and adjusted it.

‘Which way are you going?’ he asked.

She angled her head up the main road. ‘I have to get back to the nurses’ home. It’s not far.’

He nodded. ‘Well, I’m sad to say I go the opposite way. My sister will be waiting.’ He paused. ‘You’ll think me very forward, but it so happens that every now and again I can obtain the occasional lipstick, through work contacts. All above board, just in the course of business,’ he added quickly, as Lily stepped back. ‘It would make me very happy if you would accept some as a gift, the next time the chance comes my way, to make up for me almost knocking you over just now.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly …’ Lily’s mind was racing, trying to work out if it was worth the gamble. ‘But what about your sister? Won’t she want it?’

‘I dare say I can get some for you both.’ He gave her a charming open smile. ‘If you’d care to write down your name and how I may contact you …’ Again he raised an eyebrow.

What did she have to lose? It wasn’t as if she was agreeing to anything serious. Lily bit her lip and let him wait just a little longer than necessary. Then she nodded. ‘All right. Thank you.’

Alice tried to concentrate on the note she was writing, the sheet of paper catching a ray of sunshine sloping in at a low angle through the big common-room windows. Her mind was still racing though, thoughts of Joe and the mystery of his current whereabouts crowding out everything else. She’d slept badly, her convoluted dreams revolving around Joe’s ship being bombed, water rushing into the bulkheads, his crewmates struggling to escape. Then she’d woken up to find it was raining hard and the noise was the raindrops pounding at her attic window. She had tried to go back to sleep but it hadn’t worked, and she had fallen into an uneasy doze.

Finally, she had given up and risen early, despite it being a Saturday. Rubbing her red and itching eyes she had dragged herself downstairs and attempted to compose a note to her teacher friend, Janet. Mary had told her about the idea of giving new lessons in hygiene, and Alice had agreed that would be a good plan. She had offered to be the one to contact the school because, after all, she knew Janet better than the others.

Yet the words refused to form and, after several goes, she had abandoned the effort. Instead she’d passed the morning chatting to whoever was around – Gladys to begin with, then Belinda on her way out to meet up with her ambulance-driver friend Geraldine, then the Irish nurses who lived in the annexe next door came over for some company. Gwen came in with the daily papers, and that had been another excuse to while away the time. Alice had battled with the crossword with mixed success, but failed to find anyone to help her out. Nobody else had much time for cryptic clues. Which brought her full circle, to missing Joe. He was always game to have a go at a tricky crossword.

Alice didn’t like to give in to defeat but her tired brain was unequal to the task of finishing the puzzle. Sighing, she set the newspaper aside and returned to her note. Just holding her pen felt like an effort. She put it down again.

The door from the hallway opened and in came one of the new nurses, the one with bright blonde hair. Her cheeks were flushed with cold from being outside and she was smiling as she walked across the room. Alice realised she was heading her way, and half welcomed another source of distraction.

‘Hello.’ The new nurse stopped beside the little writing table. ‘Nurse Lake, isn’t it? Do you mind if I join you?’ She gave a big smile and Alice couldn’t help but respond.

‘Of course not – and do call me Alice.’ It was always good to hear a voice with that familiar accent. Alice might have lived in London for five years, but she would always think of Liverpool as home. The new nurse’s words took her back to that city, where there were reminders of the sea everywhere – the gulls, the ships, the salt tang when the wind was a westerly. ‘And you’re Lily, is that right?’

Lily nodded and drew up a chair, positioning it so that the sun fell across it. She sat down and smiled again. ‘Yes, I’m Lily. I’m glad to have a chance to say hello. I’ve been meaning to since I got here and found you came from the same place as I do.’

Alice nodded, noting that the young woman seemed very confident and was in an evident good mood, rather in contrast to her own. She stirred herself to be polite and interested. ‘Yes, isn’t that a coincidence?’

Lily cocked her head to one side in acknowledgement. ‘It is, but actually I think it’s even more of a coincidence than that.’ She paused. ‘I’m sure I remember you from training. Weren’t we at the same hospital?’

Alice frowned and struggled to recall. Her brain was too sluggish and she could not bring the young nurse to mind. Surely she would have remembered someone with hair like that, and yet no image presented itself. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said honestly.

Lily persisted. ‘I’m sure we were. I think you were a year or two ahead of me. We weren’t in the same lectures or anything like that.’

Alice thought that sounded possible. She could recall nurses who had been in their final stages of training when she was just beginning, wondering if she would ever be as good at her job as they had appeared to be. She had been envious of their competence and the easy way they handled themselves. How strange if Lily had thought the same about her.

‘I finished my basic training in 1938 and then moved down here to specialise as a district nurse,’ Alice explained now. ‘Would that fit?’

The younger woman’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s it. I was two years behind you, then. That makes sense. Do you know, I used to look up to you – you always seemed to know exactly what you were doing, when I was struggling to get used to everything.’

Alice grinned. ‘I’m sure I wasn’t as good as all that. It didn’t feel like that at the time – there was always more to learn, a new ward to get the hang of.’ She cast her mind back to the intensity of hospital training. ‘And some of the matrons were terrifying. We were afraid of lots of them. If we made the smallest mistake we’d get a proper dressing down in front of everybody.’

Lily laughed in delight. ‘They were real dragons, weren’t they? Made you feel about five years old if you stepped the smallest bit out of line. Not like Fiona here – I couldn’t believe she was the supervisor at first.’

Alice laughed as well. ‘I know what you mean, but don’t be fooled. She’s sharper than all those dragons put together. She might be informal but that doesn’t mean she tolerates mistakes. You’d see another side to her then.’

‘Oooh, I wouldn’t like that.’ Lily pretended to shudder. ‘No, I’m sure you’re right. It helps though, doesn’t it, to be treated like a grown-up?’

Alice shifted in her seat, telling herself that she should make more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming. It was just tiredness making her tetchy, she decided. ‘She trusts us, that’s the difference. Besides, all of us have passed our exams, taken an extra period of specialist training and then practised on the district. We ought to have some idea of what we’re doing, even though it doesn’t always feel like that.’

‘Gosh.’ Lily looked surprised that such an experienced nurse as Alice should admit to feeling uncertain. ‘Well, it’s true I sometimes wonder if I’ve done the right thing. I’ve read all the books and try to keep up by reading the magazine, but you can’t always see what’s coming from around the corner, can you?’

Alice nodded vigorously. ‘Exactly. You can’t be fully prepared for absolutely everything. The trick is to admit it and not to be afraid to ask for help. We’ve all got areas we feel more comfortable in – I like training children and volunteer nurses, Mary’s the best when it comes to elderly patients, for example.’

Lily’s eyes opened wide. ‘Can I really come to you if I need it? That would be so reassuring.’

Alice nodded again, although a little voice in her head wondered what she had let herself in for. ‘Of course. Not just me but any of the others would be happy to help.’

Lily smiled broadly. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’ Then she frowned a little, as another thought struck her. ‘Do you remember those two student doctors in your year? I can see them now – that very good-looking one with dark hair and his friend, the quieter one.’

Alice forced her face to give nothing away. This was a subject she didn’t share with her closest friends unless she absolutely had to, much less with a young woman she’d only just met. ‘Yes. Everyone always noticed Dermot McGillicuddy.’

‘That’s right,’ Lily exclaimed. ‘I knew he had a funny name. He was so handsome!’ she laughed. ‘We used to try to change our rotas so that we could be on the same ward.’

Alice smiled back. Perhaps all would be well if they could keep the conversation on the topic of Dermot.

‘Can you believe it,’ Lily sailed on, blithely unaware that she had steered into dangerous waters, ‘when I was waiting for the train at Lime Street, on my way down here, I bumped into that friend of his – the clever one, Mark I think he was called. He’d come back to see his parents and we got talking. I told him where I was going and he said he knew someone here – well it was you, of course.’ She smiled again, oblivious to Alice’s reaction. ‘He seemed very keen to know how you were, but I couldn’t tell him anything as I’d not met you.’ She smiled happily and looked at Alice. ‘He kept saying what a lovely person you were and how very sorry he was not to be in touch with you still. I suppose you lost contact what with the war and all … In fact, perhaps I should have got his address for you,’ she chattered on, ‘but the train came in and I had to run. Small world, though!’

Alice gripped her chair so hard she thought she would break it. Taking a deep breath she managed to answer. ‘Yes, as you say, it’s a small world.’ She could think of nothing else. Her world had just been ripped wide open.

Lily got to her feet, perhaps sensing she had said too much. ‘Well, it’s been lovely talking to you but I really must get on. I can see you’re writing a letter and I’ve interrupted you. TTFN!’ She waved breezily and headed out of the door the way she had come.

Slowly Alice turned to face the big windows, away from anyone who might be able to see her. The angle of the sun had changed and the back yard was now in shadow, forming a background to her own reflection. There was no escape from the sight of her tear-filled eyes and utterly devastated face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ruby was lost. She’d been so sure that she could find this morning’s patients that she hadn’t brought her map. The trouble was, many of the terraces looked the same, give or take the patterns of bomb damage. Red bricks or dull stone, doors opening directly onto the pavement or with a small area that could never be called a garden, barely big enough for her to leave her bike. The upshot was, she could be almost there or miles away – she had no idea.

She didn’t like to ask. It made her feel a failure and that she was letting down her profession. Nurses shouldn’t get lost.

Now she turned her head this way and that, searching for anything even slightly familiar. It was to no avail. She could feel her temperature rising as she pedalled faster, her heartbeat increasing, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead despite the chilly air. She knew she shouldn’t panic but it was hard not to. She would be letting down the patients waiting for her.

Then again, what if this wasn’t panic and the symptoms were the first signs of flu? More and more people were going down with it; it would be hardly surprising if she caught it too. There was a limit to how much stringent hygiene could stave it off. That little girl on Friday had sneezed all over Ruby before she could turn away. It wasn’t deliberate, but perhaps that was when infection happened? The mother had been desperately apologetic, but maybe the damage had been done?

The sensible part of Ruby’s brain told her to calm down, but now the familiar pattern of low confidence was spiralling faster and faster. She was no good at this, she’d never been any good. It was pure fluke that she’d passed her exams in the first place. Perhaps it was better that she missed her appointments as that way she couldn’t harm her patients. She could hear her sister’s voice saying over and over, ‘I told you so.’

Then a dog dashed out from behind a baker’s cart, and she was forced to swerve and brake hard. It was touch and go whether she’d stay on the bike, and once she’d regained control she was shaking with effort, but at least it had broken her train of thought.

‘Miss, I’m ever so sorry.’ A middle-aged woman came around the side of the cart, wiping her hands on her dusty coat. ‘Buster, come here, bad dog. You almost got this lady hurt. Oh, you’re a nurse. Are you all right?’

Ruby was trembling but nodded. ‘Y-yes, I think so. No harm done. It was just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’ She held on to the heavy old bike for support, her knees weak.

‘He’s never done that before. He usually stays inside when I collect me orders.’ The woman shook her head. ‘Can I do anything, nurse? I hope I’ve not made you late or nothing.’

Ruby saw her chance. This woman must be a local. ‘As a matter of fact, maybe you can help me. I’m looking for Butterfield Green. Could you point me in the right direction?’

‘Oh, nurse, you must be all confused what with Buster running out like that. No wonder you don’t know. You’re only a couple of streets away. See where the road bends up there? Turn left at the house with the dark blue door and then next left after that. It’ll be right in front of you, you can’t miss it.’ She grabbed the little dog by his collar and pulled him close to her feet. The dog, having had his brief adventure, made no protest.

Ruby smiled in gratitude. ‘Of course. It’s all coming back to me now,’ she said, stretching the truth. ‘I’d best be off, but thank you.’

‘Oh no, thank you, nurse. For not making a fuss,’ the woman insisted, evidently relieved that she wasn’t going to get into trouble for her pet causing an accident. ‘I’m happy to be of assistance, I am.’

Ruby swung her leg over the saddle and began to pedal once more, calmer now that she knew where she was going. That had been a lucky escape. The naughty little dog had done her a favour. She banished all thoughts of her doubting sister to the back of her mind. Now she had a job to do and she had to believe that she could do it. Breathing deeply she willed her heartbeat to go back to normal. Already she was feeling better. She didn’t have flu. Just as well, she thought – with all the patients they had to attend to, none of them had time to be sick themselves.

Of all the weekends for Edith to spend at the Banhams’ … Alice had been pacing around the nurses’ home, her mind in turmoil since Lily had thrown out her casual thunderbolt of a remark, knowing the only person she could confide in was her best friend. Edith, however, had spent both Saturday and Sunday night at her in-laws’ house, having planned to go through their pile of baby clothes and pick out what might be suitable for her own baby when it was born.

Alice could hardly object to that but she could not control her tumbling thoughts. Why did Mark still have the power to disturb her in this way? Why couldn’t he have stayed away and out of her thoughts, when it had taken so much time and painful effort to banish him in the first place? Only Edith could advise her, but Edith was not around to ask. Nor did she see her on Monday morning and, as bad luck would have it, Alice was busy on the Monday lunchtime dropping off leaflets for the new band of Civil Nursing Reserve recruits.

So it was not until she had finished her rounds on Monday afternoon that she had a chance to see what Edith made of this unlooked-for turn of events.

When Alice knocked on her door Edith was taking a surreptitious nap, tired from a hectic day on the district but unwilling to admit it.

‘Oh, it’s you. Thank goodness for that.’ Edith swung her legs off the bed to make room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

‘Are you all right? Shall I come back later?’ Alice felt bad for disturbing her friend, still quietly battling lingering morning sickness but not making a fuss about it. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.’ Edith sat upright, wedging a pillow behind her to soothe her aching back. ‘What’s happened? Don’t say it’s nothing, I can see by your face that something’s up. Tell me all about it.’

Gratefully, Alice poured out the conversation she had had with Lily on Saturday. She strove to get every detail right, not to distort it with all the anxieties that had swirled around her head ever since. ‘Am I making a fuss out of nothing?’ she demanded.

‘No. Well, maybe. It’s bound to upset you.’ Edith rubbed her eyes again. ‘Give me a mo, we need to think this through.’

Alice sat back against the wall, with its pale pattern of leaves and birds on the slightly faded wallpaper. She forced herself to breathe deeply and study the edge of the rag rug that lay not quite straight on the floor alongside the bed. ‘What do you reckon?’ she asked at last.

Edith sighed. ‘It’s a bit of a shock, isn’t it? After all this time.’

Alice stared at the crooked rug. ‘It’s been years since I’ve seen him. Not since he went to Spain. That was before I even knew you. I couldn’t stay in Liverpool any longer, knowing he might come back, or I could bump into his parents. That’s why I ended up doing my district nurse specialist training in Richmond.’

‘I know.’ Edith’s voice was full of sympathy.

‘Of course I knew he was back, ever since Dermot got that locum posting here. That was bad enough, but I got used to it. In some ways it was a relief, knowing that he hadn’t been killed in Spain, that he was a forces doctor now. Not that it would have been much safer, around the airfields and ports during the Battle of Britain and the bombings on the south coast … but we were all in that together, weren’t we? We just got on with it. All that time, he was nothing to do with me, and I could concentrate on working here. It was what I wanted.’

Edith glanced sideways. ‘Was it, Al?’ she asked gently.

Alice nodded without hesitation. ‘It was, it really was. I thought I knew what I was doing when I met Mark but it turns out I got it totally wrong. That was a hard thing to admit. I’d fooled myself and got caught up in this dream of us being together for ever. Well, it wasn’t to be.’ Suddenly the anger she had been suppressing all weekend burst out. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that he decided to go off to Spain without so much as asking me what I felt about it. He makes all the arrangements and then he tells me as an afterthought. One minute we’re talking about where we’ll go on honeymoon, the next he’s off to fight. Everything that went before counted for nothing.’ She gasped, her whole body trembling.

‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’ Edith patted her arm, but Alice was not to be calmed.

‘I thought I would die, it hurt so much. I couldn’t believe he would betray me like that, not after all he’d promised, that what we had could count for so little. Well, I didn’t die. I put it behind me and got on with things. I know you all think I’m boring when I don’t go out dancing but I don’t care. I like staying in. I’d rather read a good book than come anywhere near that sort of pain again.’ Exhausted, she flopped back onto the candlewick bedspread.

‘Well, if he couldn’t see how stupid he was being then he didn’t deserve you,’ Edith said loyally.

‘He didn’t. He doesn’t,’ Alice replied fervently. ‘He can wonder and worry all he likes. He had his chance, he blew it. He can’t have another go. What, so he can let me down all over again? I don’t think so.’ Her mouth set in a straight, determined line.

‘Of course.’ Edith paused. ‘Although to be fair, I suppose we don’t know that’s what he intended. He was just making conversation by the sounds of it.’

Alice exhaled noisily. ‘All right, yes. Perhaps he was just being polite, but even so. Claiming he would still like to be in contact – whose fault was it that we lost touch in the first place? Well, see if I care.’

Edith bit her lip, and held back from pointing out the obvious: that if Alice no longer cared, she would not be in such a state.

‘He needn’t think I’m going to go running after him. Not on your life. He’s nothing to me, nothing at all.’

‘You’re right,’ Edith said staunchly. She’d never seen her friend so emotional in all the years she’d known her. Cautiously she pursed her lips. ‘I suppose you could always write to Dermot and drop it in casually, to see if he can shed any light … you write to each other quite often, don’t you?’

Alice shrugged, and her usually neat bun of dark blonde hair fell loose. ‘We do. Not sure how I could just drop it in, though. It’d stand out a mile. Besides,’ she tucked her heavy hair behind one ear, ‘I don’t want to drag him into it. He’s a good friend to both of us. It was bad enough when it all happened and he tried so hard not to take sides. It’s not fair on him. No,’ she continued with growing resolution, ‘I’m going to forget all about the whole incident. Thank you, Edie, for hearing me out. I’m sorry I woke you up – no, I know I did.’

Edith smiled wryly. ‘Well, maybe I was just starting to doze. Anyway, don’t be daft – what are friends for? What would I have done without you these last few years?’ She turned to look Alice full in the face. ‘You can tell me anything, you know that.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lily had tried hard to put the handsome stranger out of her head since the chance encounter outside the shop, but he kept appearing in her mind’s eye at the most inopportune moments. She would be taking a patient’s temperature and there he would be, smiling in that devil-may-care way and commiserating about the lack of lipstick for sale. Or she would take a patient’s hand to check the pulse at the wrist and the most inappropriate thought would pop up: what would it be like to hold his hand?

It wouldn’t be wet and clammy like her patient’s, she’d put good money on it. He’d have a strong, reassuring grip, not too aggressive but definite and forceful. He would smell very slightly of cigar smoke, or a refined aftershave with a hint of cedar wood. Although his hair had been slicked back, she felt sure he wouldn’t reek of oil, as had some of the young men who’d tried to win her favour in Liverpool. They’d piled it on too thick and their heads shone in the lights of the dance halls like so many slippery eels.

No, this man would take a more subtle approach. He’d know just how far to go and then stop.

She checked herself as she came downstairs from her corner bedroom, knowing that she was losing concentration. That wouldn’t do. She had to refill her Gladstone bag and any mistakes could cost her dearly.

Mary was rounding the newel post in the main hallway. ‘Lily! Just who I wanted to see. Do you think you’d be interested in helping out with those hygiene classes we spoke about? Our teacher friend Janet thinks it’s a tremendous idea. I said we’d had some inspiration from our most recent colleague.’ She beamed expectantly.

Lily’s heart sank. No way did she want to be stuck in a freezing classroom full of noisy brats, all coughing and sniffing. What had she got herself into? ‘Ah, I’m not sure …’ she began, not wanting to commit herself to anything so unpleasant but not wanting to lose face in front of Mary either. She had not failed to notice that Mary was the nurse with the nicest clothes, the poshest voice and, if what she’d heard was true, the highest-ranking boyfriend. Just the sort of sophisticated friend she would like to have.

She was let off the hook by Belinda swooping by with a bundle of post. ‘Letter for you, Lily! Who’s the secret admirer?’ Her dark eyes flashed with humour but she didn’t stay around for a reply, linking her arm through Mary’s and pulling her down the corridor.

Just as well, for Lily didn’t recognise the handwriting on the envelope, but she would have sworn it was masculine. There was something about the assertive slope of the letters. She ran her finger over the address, noticing how the paper was of good quality and the pen nib had made decisive indentations. Not the mark of anyone she’d known in Liverpool.

Checking that there was nobody else around, she stepped into the district room and put down her bag on the floor. Restocking it could wait. Intrigued and excited, she gently teased open the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper – again a good-quality vellum in an elegant off-white. The ink was a deep blue, almost purple. Lily approved.

Avidly she scanned the message and as she read it a slow smile crept onto her face. Well, she’d certainly made an impression that Saturday morning. It was, as she had hoped, from the mysterious man outside the shop, and he offered to make good on his promise.

If she’d care to meet him, he would be pleased to put right the disappointment of her shopping trip. He had managed to obtain some lipstick – and his sister had already tried it and reckoned it was of good quality. If Lily was still keen, would she like to see him to receive her gift? Only after her work had finished, of course – he respected her profession as a nurse. He suggested a café not far from Victoria Park. If that suited her, would she please confirm which day would be best?

Lily hugged the sheet of paper to her, feeling a delicious thrill. She didn’t know the café but recognised that it was fairly near to the nurses’ home, without it being so close by that she would run the risk of bumping into someone she knew. While there was nothing underhand about the fact she was meeting this man, she definitely didn’t want to share him with any of the other nurses. She checked his signature: Donald. Donald Parker. That had a nice ring to it – respectable, but not too stuffy.

She glanced at the return address. It was an office, in Bethnal Green. She wasn’t sure where that was, but she knew it was in East London. Didn’t the bus to Liverpool Street go past Bethnal Green Road? It couldn’t be that far away. Good.

Footsteps coming down the corridor made her hastily tuck the letter into her pocket, and not a moment too soon. It was Mary again, with a small box in her hands. ‘Just putting away these spares of calamine lotion,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Have you thought any further about those lessons, Lily? It would be a great help to have you on board, you know. We’re thinking of Thursday for the first one.’

Lily’s mind raced. Donald hadn’t suggested a particular day, leaving it up to her, but what if Thursday was best for him? She didn’t want to miss this chance.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, making sure her tone was as genuine as she could get it. ‘I’ve got a previous engagement. Otherwise I would have loved to.’

Mary took it well. ‘Never mind. Perhaps another day. I’ll let you know how it goes, of course.’

Lily smiled, more warmly this time. Mary sounded as if she cared for her opinion. ‘Yes please,’ she said, but already she was thinking ahead, to what she might wear for the rendezvous at the café. Donald wanted to meet her, and suddenly the future looked very bright indeed.

Days off were meant to make you feel better, not worse, Ruby thought glumly. She’d been given a free afternoon because one of her cases earlier in the week had overrun well into the evening, as she’d had to wait with a patient until an ambulance arrived. As often happened, the ambulance had been diverted, as a water main had burst – not because of any new bombing, for which they were all thankful, but most likely from damage sustained earlier in the war.

That had counted for nothing with the patient’s indignant family, who had protested that they were being treated badly because they weren’t able to pay the insurance. Ruby had done her best to persuade them that it wasn’t the case and it was nobody’s fault, but it had been a tough few hours. Even when the ambulance finally arrived, she had stayed on to soothe the frayed tempers. For a while she had feared the husband might turn nasty. When she finally got back to Victory Walk, she was at her wits’ end.

To her surprise, the usually stern assistant superintendent had come to her rescue. Gwen had spotted the signs of an inexperienced nurse feeling overwhelmed and had taken her to one side. They had sat together in a corner of the common room, which by then was emptying out as most of the nurses were retiring to their individual rooms. Gwen had made sure the exhausted young woman had something hot to eat and then she herself made a pot of tea for two.

‘These things happen,’ she reassured her. ‘It sounds as if it was a very difficult situation. It’s one of the things they don’t tell you much about when you’re working in a hospital.’

Ruby had almost cried at the unexpected sympathy. ‘No, they tell you what illnesses you are likely to come across and how to treat the sick person, but not that you could get threatened by their family.’

Gwen had nodded seriously. ‘They didn’t try to hurt you, did they?’

‘Not really.’ Ruby wiped her hand across her face. ‘I thought the husband might though. He was older than her, and even though he had a limp he never sat down, he just couldn’t keep still. He was between me and the front door. I kept thinking, if I’ve got to run for help I don’t know how I’ll get out.’

‘That must have been very frightening,’ Gwen replied, her brow creasing. ‘A limp, you say? I expect he’s one of those men who wanted to go and fight but got turned down. That can make them frustrated and so they get particularly angry. You just happened to be there. It wasn’t your fault. You were doing your job.’

Ruby sniffed and fought back the tears that she had driven away during the crisis but which threatened to erupt now. ‘I tried, I really did. And it was such a dark little road, all the houses close together. Moses Street.’

Gwen sighed. ‘I know the one. Yes, we get called there fairly often and some of the families can be tricky. Let me just check one thing. You said it was for an especially bad case of flu?’

Ruby nodded. ‘That’s what the doctor said, although I’m not sure when he saw her. I think it was right – her temperature was all over the place.’

Gwen tapped her forefinger against the table top. ‘This might sound like a daft question, but did you ask the patient when she had last been to the toilet? Was she drinking normally, maybe cool water to help with the fever?’

‘I’m not sure …’ Ruby was puzzled. ‘I gave her a cup of water more than once, but I didn’t ask – and she was too weak to move anyway, while I was there.’

Gwen hesitated, as if wondering whether she should say anything more. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Ruby, but I’m going to give you some advice for the future – just an extra thing to bear in mind, and not all hospitals cover it.’ She drew herself up a little more on her wooden chair. ‘It’s not your place to make diagnoses like this, it’s for the doctor, but sometimes there isn’t one around. I’m only saying this because I know what has happened in that street before.’

Ruby wondered what was coming, and felt a sense of dread.

‘It’s easy to mistake some symptoms of flu for something else. Particularly now, when there have been so many cases. One of the conditions that often gets missed is blood poisoning. Septicaemia.’

Ruby felt on safer territory. ‘I’ve heard of that.’

‘Of course you have.’ Gwen took a sip of her tea and decided to continue. ‘I’m talking about one distinct cause of it, among women of child-bearing age. Do you know what I’m referring to?’

Ruby shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

Gwen set her cup down again. ‘Well, it’s not an easy thing to discuss but, as nurses, we must acknowledge that it happens. You’ll know as well as I do that some pregnant women do not wish to have their baby. That can be for many reasons – overcrowding and poverty among them. Two reasons that go hand in hand and which are prevalent in Moses Street, wouldn’t you say?’

Ruby blinked, still not completely sure what Gwen meant.

‘What happens is, they try to get rid of the baby. If they’re poor they won’t have access to any means of doing so safely, and so they try to bring it about by themselves. There are lots of ways and none of them are pleasant. Many are downright dangerous – and one of the consequences can be septicaemia.’

Ruby’s hand went to her throat. ‘I … I didn’t think …’

‘No, no.’ Gwen tutted. ‘As I said, it’s not your job to diagnose. I’m simply saying, it is something you may well come across. What made me extra suspicious was the husband’s reaction. He will know that such a procedure is illegal. He’ll be defensive and therefore angry. Some men try to hide what’s happened, others go on the offensive. Of course now we are at war often there isn’t a man around at all – another reason why women resort to such measures.’

‘So was that what was wrong with the woman? Not flu?’

Gwen shrugged. ‘I can’t say. Even if I’d seen her, I might not have been able to tell. Plenty of women wouldn’t admit it, even more so to anyone in a position of authority. They’re caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I’m telling you this so that you bear it in mind in future. You don’t go wading in reading them the riot act; you act as fast as you safely can because, as you know, if left untreated then septicaemia can prove fatal.’

Ruby gasped.

‘And it sounds as if that’s what you did, no matter what underlying reason lay behind her symptoms,’ Gwen assured her. ‘Even if you’d known for sure that the poor woman had tried to give herself an abortion, you wouldn’t have acted any differently. You’ve given her the best possible chance of recovery. Just keep this in mind – not urinating for a long time, maybe a day in the case of an adult, can be a sign of blood poisoning. So it doesn’t hurt to ask that question.’

‘I shan’t forget,’ Ruby said.

‘No, I dare say you won’t,’ Gwen replied wryly. ‘Tell you what. You have acted above and beyond tonight, and that family has every reason to feel grateful. Why don’t you have a half-day off in recompense? Perhaps you’d like to see your own family? This won’t happen every time, I am compelled to warn you.’

Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘Really? That’s kind of you!’

Gwen made as if to rise. ‘Really. Make the most of it – when we are busier you won’t have the chance. What do you say?’

Ruby smiled, for the first time since she had knocked on the grim front door in Moses Street. ‘Yes. Oh, yes please.’

When Ruby approached the Lyons’ Corner House on the Strand she was buoyant, hopeful that this meeting would mark a change. Even though she had been so afraid at the incident in Moses Street, the conversation with Gwen had done her a world of good. Despite not knowing the full story of the poor family, she had done the right thing. Whatever had led to the woman’s symptoms, she had ensured she was safely taken to hospital, which would be the best place for her.

Surely her mother and sister would notice the difference in her. She consciously put her shoulders back and drew herself up to her full five feet four. Her hair was neatly pulled away from her face in a band and she wore her one good winter jacket, as a change from her nurse’s cloak. Edith had noticed her on the way out from the home on Victory Walk, and had stopped to lend her a scarf. ‘This colour suits you and goes with the jacket,’ she’d observed, tucking the pale blue length of wool around the other nurse’s neck. ‘We don’t want you to get cold up there in the West End.’

So Ruby had another reason to feel proud: not only did her deputy supervisor trust her enough to share the warning about botched abortions, but one of the most experienced nurses had shown her friendship. This move to Hackney was the best thing she’d ever done.

The good mood lasted about two minutes. That was how long it took Beryl to get into full flow, casting aspersions left and right, while their mother sat and nodded. Ruby took the lead, boldly ordering teacakes for all of them from the smartly uniformed waitress, and that set Beryl off. Had she forgotten how tasty their mother’s cakes were, and did she think they had money to waste eating out?

‘I thought that’s why we came here,’ Ruby objected.

‘We could have just had a cuppa and saved our pennies. You know Ma doesn’t like the West End at the best of times,’ Beryl snapped. ‘I won’t make a show of myself changing our order but, honestly, you should have asked first, Ruby. Looks as if you’re getting above yourself already.’

Ruby had had to grip hard on her teaspoon to stop herself from screaming.

‘We’ve managed all right without you since you left, thank you for asking,’ her sister rattled on relentlessly. ‘Never mind that Ma’s sciatica has been playing up, isn’t that right, Ma? And we couldn’t get hold of no wintergreen. Of course we used to rely on you for that, Ruby, but you never thought of us when you made your decision to go, did you?’

The unfairness of that took Ruby’s breath away.

‘Sorry to hear that,’ she managed to mutter. She didn’t wish her mother any pain, of course she didn’t, but to blame her for it was a step too far.

Her mother nodded tremulously. ‘I’m all right really, dear. Don’t you worry about me.’ She gave a small sniff. ‘Don’t make the girl feel bad, Beryl.’

Beryl huffed. ‘I’m just letting her know the state of affairs. Don’t imagine you can swan off across town and forget all about us, Ruby.’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Ruby protested, thinking that chance would be a fine thing. The next time she got a day off she would take herself to the cinema and not waste it being told off for something she could not control.

‘Your trouble is, you don’t know what’s what.’ Beryl was well under way now on her favourite complaint.

Ruby sat back as the teacakes arrived and let her get on with it. There was no point in trying to stop her. Finally she would come to a halt, if only so she could eat her teacake. Beryl might protest that they were an extravagance, but she would soon demolish hers with great speed. Sure enough, having complained for five solid minutes, she set to swallowing her cake in record time. Their mother was still finishing her final crumbs.

‘I’ll pay, it’s my treat,’ Ruby said into the brief gap of silence.

‘Oh, thank you, dear,’ said her mother, surprised and pleased.

Beryl scowled. ‘I’m amazed they’re paying you enough. Don’t go thinking we’ll be so grateful that you can ask for favours in future.’

‘That isn’t why I offered,’ Ruby retorted, stung. ‘I thought you might like it, that’s all.’ The final crumbs of her cake tasted like dust in her mouth. Her little treat had been spoiled. What had she expected, really? In all honesty, she should have known better.

‘Well, we’d best be getting back,’ Beryl asserted. ‘Get you back to where you belong, eh, Ma? Away from all this noise and kerfuffle.’ She glared at Ruby. ‘Next time, see if you can’t get yourself over to Hammersmith.’

Ruby nodded dumbly. She certainly wouldn’t be inviting them to Dalston. She wanted to keep that all to herself – somewhere that people valued her and didn’t think she was a waste of space.

As she sat on the bus, slowly making its way back to the east of the city and trying to avoid the potholes, she felt that her wonderful sensation of happy confidence had vanished, gone up in smoke like the toasted edges of the teacake. Was it true that she didn’t know what was what? How could Beryl blame her for her lack of worldly experience, when she and their mother had gone to great lengths to prevent her getting any?

Recognising the big crossroads, she stood up and prepared to get off, edging down the aisle of the bus between boxes and shopping bags. She gritted her teeth. She couldn’t pretend to be worldly wise, but at least she was now mixing with people who were, and who might teach her how to get on in life. She fingered the warm scarf. At least some of her new colleagues believed in her. That was a start.

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