A Gift for the District Nurses

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.’