‘Now we can chat,’ I said.
I moved my chair closer to her and held the book near her hand. With an amount of difficulty that made me wince for her, Nelly spelled out “R … E … A … D”.
‘Bossy,’ I said. ‘All right, then.’
Leafing through the pages I found the one that was sealed, slidmy hand inside to open it and flattened out the paper, feeling my heart thump. And there, under my writing, was another message.
‘He’s replied,’ I said. ‘Oh, Lord. I can’t look. What if it’s Jackson?’
Nelly put her hand against mine in reassurance and feeling calmer I dropped my gaze to the writing.
‘The first day we met, we spoke about my uncle,’ I read. So pleased I could have got to my feet and done a little dance right there and then, I beamed at Nelly. ‘We spoke about his uncle,’ I declared. ‘I know exactly who this is!’
Nelly tapped the bed furiously, until I brought the page of the book with the letters on back to her. “W … H … O,” she spelled.
‘It’s Harry,’ I said, hugging myself in delight. ‘Lovely, sweet Harry the airman. You were right.’
Nelly gave the tiniest nod, which was about all she could manage, with her head bandaged as it was. She was trying her best to stay awake, I could tell, but she was flagging.
‘I’m wearing you out,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’
She tapped the bed again and I moved the book towards her. She breathed in, and it sounded so painful that I winced.
“D … Y … I … N … G,” she tapped.
Full of horror and sadness, I stared at her.
‘No,’ I said. ‘No, Nell. You’re not dying. You’re going to get better and come home and we can have fun the way we always have.’ My voice shook as I said the words, because for the first time since the raid, I understood, that they weren’t true. Nelly was very weak and she was very badly injured and even with the doctors and nurses all doing their best to care for her, I didn’t think she would ever come home again.
‘Anyway,’ I said, trying to keep my tone light. ‘You are the expert in matters of the heart. I need your help with this Harry business, because I don’t have a clue.’ I tried to laugh but it was shrill and echoed round the room. Nelly turned her face away from me.
‘I’ll go.’ I leaned over and kissed her, feeling completely desolate. It was so unfair that my vibrant, funny friend was ebbingaway from me. That Nelly, who would have loved to be a real part of these notes and this mystery romance – if that’s what it was – couldn’t even tell me what she thought. There had been many times during our friendship when I’d been despairing about Nelly’s tendency to fall in love at the drop of a hat, but now I wished with all my heart that she’d one day do that again. Looking at her now, her whole body wrapped in bandages, and her breath laboured and whimpering, it seemed unlikely.
‘You’re going to come home, Nell,’ I whispered fiercely. But I knew I was lying.
Chapter 25
I hugged the knowledge that my mystery note writer was Harry to myself all night, alone in the shelter. I didn’t know where the Golds were. I usually hated being in the shelter on my own and I was still nervous and jumpy when I heard the bombs falling, but for once I didn’t mind. I liked having my secret to keep me company.
I wrote a reply in the book, telling Harry I knew who he was and – surprised by my boldness – that I was glad it was him. It was nice, writing things down. I wasn’t sure I’d be as confident face to face. I’d never been one for flirting and romance, like Nelly was; I was too unsure of myself. I liked to dance and I liked spending time with men, but I’d never really had a sweetheart. War had broken out just as I was beginning to spread my wings, and all the men my age went off to fight, and I spent all hours at the hospital anyway. But now, there was Harry.
I thought about his open, boyish face and wrote my reply. I told him how much I’d appreciated the patients cheering for Billy, and that I understood how his mother felt about his uncle dying in the last war, because of how I’d lost my brother – though I didn’t name Billy of course. I was still aware that someone might read our messages. I told him how lost I’d been feeling since Nellyhad been injured in a raid. The words poured out of me like a bottle had been uncorked. I had someone to talk to – at last.
And it seemed the same was true for Harry. Over the next few days, we wrote back and forth every day. Sometimes twice a day. I had an inkling he’d given Frank a nudge and was encouraging him to bring the book backwards and forwards to the hut.
Sometimes Harry would comment on how I looked: “I like how your hair is escaping from your cap today,” he wrote. “It makes me want to reach out and tuck it in. I wish I could touch you.”
I ached to touch him, too. It wasn’t something I’d experienced before. I even dreamt about being in his arms one night and wrote about it the next day.
“I feel the same,” he replied. “I want to go to sleep with you in my arms.”
He called me Angel in the notes, which I rather liked. It was flattering and exciting and a lovely distraction from the awfulness of everyday life in the hospital and Nelly’s injuries and Jackson, who I’d not seen for a few days but who was always there in the back of my mind because I expected to find him round every corner.
On the fourth day after I’d started writing to Harry, I was back on night shifts. I’d got to the hospital early so I could visit Nelly. She seemed to be in a lot of pain so they’d upped her sedation again and her doctors were concerned. I had written a letter to Nelly’s mother, assuring her I was visiting Nelly every day and that she was able to communicate when she was awake, feeling I was perhaps misleading poor Mrs Malone into thinking Nelly was less injured than she was. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell the truth.
I was desperate to see Harry. I’d not managed to come up with a reason to visit the huts for days, so when I got to my ward, earlier than I thought because Nelly had been asleep, I jumped when Matron asked if I’d take some blankets over.
‘They’re patching up their patients, shoving them out the door and filling the beds again so quickly laundry can’t keep up,’ sheexplained. ‘This damned blanket shortage isn’t helping anyone, and I can’t find a porter for love nor money, even though Frank told me there’s a new chap.’
