I felt a bit prickly, like she’d stolen something of mine. ‘He’s not going to be around much for the next few weeks anyway, because he’s busy at work,’ I said.
‘Shame.’
I shrugged, trying to show her that it didn’t matter to me what Finn did, and Vanessa gave me a little knowing half-smile and turned her attention back to her book.
The next few pages of Elsie’s book were hard to read. Not the writing – I’d got used to that now – but the words themselves. Some of the airmen had written letters to their families and sweethearts in case they didn’t come back.
“I wanted you to know that I treasure the time we spent together,” one man had written to someone called Ginny. I wondered if he and Ginny had ended up together or if they’d gone their separate ways.
“I hope you’ll be proud of me, Mum and Dad,” another wrote. “Because that’s all I ever wanted, you know. To make you proud.” He’d signed it, and added “age 19”.
I felt tears in my eyes, at the thought of this young man – just a few years older than Micah – who’d gone off to war, hoping to make his parents proud. Making my own parents proud had never been one of my goals. Mum was much prouder of Max – turning his back on “normal” life – than she’d ever been of me. And Dad, well … I usually just got the impression that he was a little confused by me. I always felt my presence made him feel guilty, as though I reminded him of his shortcomings somehow. And obviously that meant he didn’t want to spend much time with me. I wasn’t even sure if he’d told his new friends in Portugal that he had children. Mind you, on the odd occasions when someone asked me if I had any siblings now, I would always be a bit vague and say I had a brother but we weren’t really in touch.
I took a deep, slightly shuddering breath in and Vanessa looked up at me but didn’t say anything and I was glad.
Maybe this was too much for me, I thought as I clicked on the mouse to open the next page. I was definitely on the mend, but I wasn’t the same person I’d been before and I wasn’t sure I ever would be. Maybe this wasn’t the right project?
The next letter was a sweet note to a new wife, who was pregnant with the writer’s first baby.
“Please tell our son or daughter that they were so loved by me, their father,” he’d written. I pinched my lips together. “I hope you aren’t working too hard and please if you get the chance to be evacuated, you must go. It’s not safe for you to be in London when the bombs are dropping and things are so bad.”
Underneath the letter, someone else – Elsie, I assumed – had added a note: “AC1 Rogerson killed in action 19 December 1940”. And then, in a different colour of ink, there was another note adding: “wife killed in bomb in Stepney 11 December 1940”.
I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling the loss of this family like a sharp pain, all these years later. I wondered if he’d known his wife had died before he was killed. Perhaps not. I wasn’t sure how long news took to filter through in those days. It wasn’t as though people could just email.
‘Okay?’ Vanessa said, looking at me in concern. ‘What’s wrong?’
I shut the website down. ‘Fine.’ My voice was shaky. ‘It’s fine. I need to start my shift now. Thanks for letting me use the computer.’
She gave me a dazzling smile. ‘Any time.’
Feeling slightly wrung out, I hurried off to the staffroom to read the rota for my shift. I couldn’t do this, I thought. I was too fragile and wobbly. The idea of painting a mural about the history of Tall Trees was a good one, but not for me. Not when the history was so sad, and so raw.
I was on the late shift tonight, but though our residents went to bed early, it wasn’t time to start getting them into their night clothes quite yet. In fact, a lot of the people on my corridor were playing cards in the lounge. I left them to it and, grabbing a pile of information leaflets Blessing had asked me to make sure were given out, I went along the hall, just checking in on the ones who were settled in their rooms.
Val was one of the women who gave the card games a swerve.I couldn’t blame her really because they did get very raucous and extremely competitive. So I knocked on her door and went into her room, where she was watchingFour in a Bedon the little portable television on her chest of drawers. Someone – probably Blessing – had told me Val had worked in hospitality when she was younger and I’d scoffed at the idea, because she was really very prickly and I couldn’t imagine her running a hotel. But perhaps I’d been wrong.
‘Blessing asked me to give these out to the right people,’ I said, putting down one of the leaflets. ‘Make sure you at least glance at it, won’t you? Or she’ll have my guts for garters.’
Val looked at the leaflet without interest, then at me, more carefully this time.
‘Are you all right, Stephanie?’ she said.
I eyed her with suspicion because she didn’t often enquire as to how I was. ‘I don’t have any teabags,’ I said.
Val tutted. ‘I didn’t ask.’
Immediately I felt guilty. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts.’
‘I can see that.’ She nodded to where I’d put the information leaflet, which I saw now was about prostate screening, down on the table at the end of her bed and I screwed up my nose, and scooped it up again into the pocket of my tunic.
‘What’s got you so rattled?’ Val asked.
‘Nothing.’ I smoothed out her bedspread, which was made from very pretty patchwork.
‘Liar.’ I stared at her in surprise, and she gave me a tight-lipped smile. ‘You’re obviously upset about something, and unless you want to give Mr Yin my osteoporosis medication, I suggest you get it off your chest.’
‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ I muttered.
