Then Dr Barnet showed up and was actually much nicer off duty than he was on the ward. He was very handsome and clearly besotted with Nelly, and I found myself warming to him. He had lots of friends with him, who were all eager to dance so I found myself being whirled around the dance floor by a succession of chaps, which was enormous fun if a little exhausting. We drank some gin and the men had beer, and I saw a few friends from nursing training that I’d not seen for ages, and I was glad the music was too loud to talk properly because it meant no one would ask about Billy, so I didn’t have to worry. All in all it was a lovely evening.
As the crowds in the basement began to thin out, the band struck up a slower song. Around me, couples found each other in the dim light and started to sway along with the rhythm. Feeling a little like a spare part suddenly, I sat down at the side of the dance floor. My feet were aching and I didn’t really want to dance anymore. It was odd that despite all the men I’d spent time with this evening, the person I kept thinking about was the airman with the two broken arms and the sweet smile.
‘Sitting this one out?’ Nelly appeared next to me, with her face flushed and her eyes sparkling.
‘I’m beat, and my shoes are rubbing,’ I said, sticking one foot out in front of me. ‘I honestly don’t think I can dance another step.’
I smiled at her. ‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it?’
Nelly sat down next to me and clutched my arm in excitement. ‘Percy has asked me to go on somewhere with him and his friends.’
‘Who’s Percy?’
She nudged me. ‘Dr Barnet,’ she said, shaking her head at me. ‘Percy.’
‘Percy?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s not as romantic a name as I was expecting. I thought he’d be called something like Humphrey.’
Nelly giggled. ‘Humphrey?’
I laughed too. ‘Errol?’
‘Ah shush,’ Nelly said. ‘I like Percy.’
I looked over to where Dr Barnet was leaning against the wall of the cellar, gazing at Nelly with admiration. ‘And he definitely likes you too.’
‘Are you coming with us? Percy said he knows somewhere there’s jazz and cocktails.’
‘Really?’ Our part of South London wasn’t known for its fancy night spots.
‘That’s what he says.’ Nelly stood up. ‘Coming?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m whacked, Nell. I think I’ll just go home.’
‘Want us to walk you back?’
‘Nah, you go on. Have fun, be careful and go to a shelter if the siren goes.’
‘Yes, Mammy,’ she said. She bent down and kissed my cheek. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you, too.’
She dashed off and I found my coat and scarf draped over the back of a chair, and then – walking rather awkwardly on my sore feet – went up the stone steps from the pub cellar. As I reached the top, with a little lurch of annoyance, I remembered Jackson had been there so I scanned the room for him and there he was, standing by the door of the pub looking for all the world as though he was waiting for someone. Was he waiting for me? I wondered with a shudder.
Not wanting him to walk me home, but not sure how I’d get out of it if he spotted me, I darted round the bar and out of the side door of the pub. I’d walk the long way home. Go round the block and arrive from the opposite direction. My feet may have hurt, but the thought of walking further on my uncomfortable shoes was still preferable to Jackson taking my arm and making his odd comments.
I hurried down the street, flicking on my torch because it was so dark and for the first time, taking comfort in the blackout, which meant Jackson wouldn’t be able to see me if he came out of the pub now.
It was freezing, the wind sharp on my cheeks, and I pulled my scarf up to cover my chin as I hurried along. I crossed the road, and turned right down the street opposite where there was another pub – a smaller, less well-heeled place than the Pig and Whistle. As I approached, hunched down against the cold, the door to the pub opened, spilling light on to the pavement, and out came a woman with a hat pulled down over her ears. She stood still for a moment, silhouetted in the light from the door, then unsteadily she began walking in the same direction as I was going, vanishing into the darkness as the door shut again.
But she looked familiar. Something about the way she held her head, even if she did look as though she’d had one too many. And I’d heard stories about lone women coming a cropper during the blackout. So I quickened my pace on my blistered feet and, knowing I was risking a telling-off if an ARP warden was around, I lifted the beam from my torch to see if I could spot the woman. She was standing on the corner, looking this way and that, clearly not sure where she was. As the beam of my torch hit her she raised her arms to stop the light dazzling her and I realised it was Mrs Gold, our neighbour.
‘Oh,’ I said in surprise, because she was standing very straight and upright, waiting to check for traffic before she crossed the road. She didn’t look remotely unsteady now. ‘Mrs Gold,’ I said, lowering my torch beam so she could see. ‘It’s me, Elsie.’
‘Elsie.’
I hurried over to where she stood. ‘I thought you were the worse for wear,’ I said. ‘You looked a bit wobbly.’
She grinned at me. ‘Not at all, darling,’ she said, looping her arm through mine. I wondered if she’d been pretending to be tipsy and if so, why. But I didn’t want to ask because I had a feeling she wouldn’t tell me.
