‘I’m going to work early to help with the blankets,’ I said. We had a bewildering lack of blankets at the hospital and it seemed to be a full-time job to sort them out and allocate them to wards. I’d heard friends at other hospitals talk about nurses going into bomb sites and taking them. We’d not got to that stage yet, but I sometimes thought it wasn’t far off. ‘Aren’t you going to read your letter?’
Nelly sighed. ‘No point. I know what it says.’
‘How can you know if you’ve not read it yet?’
‘Because my mammy writes the same thing every time,’ she said. ‘She tells me how it’s so peaceful in Dublin, and you’d barely know there was a war on, and Dr Connalty says there’s a job for me at the Sisters of Mercy hospital whenever I want one …’
I grinned at her. ‘Maybe this time she’s written to say you’re doing a grand job here in London and you should stay as long as you want.’
Nelly laughed. ‘Maybe.’
‘She’s just worried about you,’ I said softly. Even though Nell’s mother sounded overbearing and fussy, I knew it was because she loved her daughter, and I envied Nelly’s family connections. She had brothers and sisters all over Ireland, and relatives in America, and she was always getting letters and once – thrillingly – a parcel from her sister in New York with stockings and a lipstick inside. I’d got the occasional note from Billy of course, and then I’d got the telegram, and now I got nothing.
Nelly got up from the chair with a groan. ‘I’m going to sleep,’ she said. She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you later?’
‘You will.’
I waited until she’d gone into her bedroom and then I took the letter from her mum and put it in the drawer in the sideboard, where I put all the other envelopes that came from her home and that she didn’t open. I knew Ireland wasn’t involved in the war and that Nelly’s mammy was safe in that way, but I also knew bad things happened in wartime too, and that perhaps Nelly would want to see her mother’s handwriting one day, and read her caring words.
I could really do with a bath myself, but I didn’t have time if I was going to help with the blankets before my shift started. I settled with a proper wash in my bedroom, even though the water was cold and made me shiver. I found a clean uniform dress in my wardrobe and folded it up neatly and put it in my bag – I’d get a fresh apron when I got to the ward.
Then I went into the kitchen to look for some food. There wasn’t much choice. Nelly and I still hadn’t really got to grips with rationing and because we ate at odd times, we were often left with empty cupboards. Luckily there was half a loaf in thebread bin, so I stuck a couple of slices on the end of the toaster fork and toasted it over the fire, warming myself up at the same time because I was still shivering after my wash.
I worked in South London District Hospital. It wasn’t far from where we lived. Before the war I had often cycled to work, but now I was usually too tired so I normally jumped on the train for two stops. We worked long shifts and we’d doubled the number of patients we looked after since the bombing started. We were a casualty clearing hospital now, and took in people who’d been injured in air raids. Most of them were local, but sometimes if it had been an especially bad night, we got casualties from Central London too. They would arrive in specially converted buses, because there weren’t enough ambulances to transport all the patients.
With my bag packed and my tummy full, I finished my cup of tea, and left a note for Nelly saying I’d see her later, put on my coat and a hat because there was a definite nip in the air now, and headed outside to walk to the station.
I’d not walked more than a hundred yards, when someone fell into step beside me.
‘All right, Elsie?’
My heart sank. It was Timothy Jackson – an old schoolmate of my brother Billy. As far as I knew, he and Billy had only really been acquaintances, but Jackson – as everyone always called him – seemed to think they had been great pals.
I scowled at my feet and then turned towards him – still walking – and forced a smile. ‘Hello.’
‘Are you off to work?’ he said, keeping pace easily with my quick stride, despite the flat feet that he’d told me had kept him from enlisting on medical grounds. ‘You’re not due at the hospital until later, are you? I thought this was your first night shift?’
I felt a tiny shiver of unease. How did he know my shift pattern? Jackson always appeared when I was out and about and it wasn’t the first time I’d suspected he was watching me. But Billy hadalways said he was a nice enough bloke. A bit of an oddball, perhaps, but harmless. I found him more sinister than strange, but I didn’t want to be unkind.
‘I’m doing some extra work for my matron,’ I explained, quickening my steps a little bit and loosening my top button because walking so fast was making me sweat.
‘You’re not overdoing it are you?’ Jackson’s expression darkened. ‘I don’t want you wearing yourself out.’
‘I’m fine.’ I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to say it was nothing to do with him, and anyway, weren’t we all worn out right now with the bombs dropping every night and Nelly working extra shifts and us all just doing what we could for the war effort?
‘Billy wouldn’t want you tired out.’
‘I need to catch a train, Jackson. It’s been lovely to catch up.’
‘Because I promised him, didn’t I? That I’d look after you.’
I stopped walking so suddenly that Jackson kept going for a couple of paces before he realised, and then scurried back.
‘Are you all right, Elsie?’
‘What do you mean you promised Billy you’d look after me?’
Jackson scratched his nose. ‘It was the last thing he said.’
