Connie’s Courage (15 page)

Harry didn't know what to say … He knew that he should feel complimented, but what he actually felt was discomfort, and almost disquiet.

‘My daughter wants to see us having a bit more jollity here, Harry, and she has commanded me to instruct you that you must put yourself at her disposal to that end. It will be good training for you in your eventual duties as my assistant to involve yourself in the social side of our calling. I have noticed that we do not have as many pupils applying to our House as the others. That needs to be addressed, and I intend to invite the parents of our boys here to take tea with us.

‘And in the summer we can have a garden party, Papa, Rosa broke in excitedly, turning an animated face toward Harry. ‘Do you not think that is a good idea, Mr Lawson? I do so love a garden party. And we can have punts on the river. Just
like at Oxford … Oh, Papa, I do miss Oxford so …'

‘My daughter is missing her friends, and who can blame her,' the Head of House told Harry. ‘But, between us, I am sure that we can build a small Oxford for her here that will satisfy all her needs, don't you think?'

‘I have so many plans, Mr Lawson. But I shall need your help with them,' Rosa told him.

She certainly did have plans, she reflected bitterly. Plans that would show her cousin Gerald that, whilst he thought he could toy with her and make her fall in love with him, and then cast her aside so that he could pursue some ugly heiress, two could play at that game.

A dull and poor junior schoolmaster like Harry could not possibly really compare with her handsome, dashing cousin, with his dangerous, flirtatious smiles and wicked whispered promises, but Rosa was determined that she would be wearing an engagement ring on her finger before her cousin placed one on the hand of his ugly heiress.

Gerald had laughed openly at her when she had foolishly let him see how much she wanted to marry him – but why else, after all, would she have allowed him the liberties she had, if she had not believed that he loved her, as passionately as she did him.

‘Rosa, you are a sweet puss, and if things were different … But I am a lazy, expensive fellow and I need a rich wife.'

‘I have money.

Gerald had laughed and shaken his head.

‘No, Rosa, you merely have a modest bequest from your mother. My heiress is rich, very rich …

‘But you do not love her. You love me! You said so yourself! she had objected passionately.

‘Ah, my sweet Rose. In your arms, tasting the nectar of your lips, I would say anything …

‘You cannot mean to marry someone else. You must not, she had sobbed. ‘I love you.

But despite her tears and pleas, Gerald had refused to be moved.

So she had vowed that if she could not have his love, then she would have her own revenge. And that revenge would be her marriage to someone else. Harry would suit her purposes perfectly!

‘I am only a poor, weak female and we are nothing without the support of a strong man.

Harry said nothing, applying himself hungrily to the rapidly cooling crumpets.

‘It is too cold for us to walk in the gardens to discuss our plans now, Mr Lawson, but Papa has given his permission for you to call on us whenever I need to speak with you, Rosa told him, clapping her hands together in an affected manner. ‘Oh, I am so pleased to have your help with this task. I don't want to disappoint Papa, when I know how important it is to him that the parents have the most favourable impression possible of our House.

She had, Rosa decided smugly, been very clever
playing on her father's vulnerability and pride in such a way, but then she had always been able to twist him around her little finger!

Later, as he made his way back to his own cold quarters, Harry wondered why he was actually enjoying the freshness of the icy air, and why he was not rejoicing at the opportunity which had befallen him to improve his prospects of advancement.

Connie shivered in the cold March wind as she hurried into the Infirmary. Officially it was her afternoon off, but Mavis had come to her, hesitantly and self-consciously, earlier in the week to ask her if she would mind changing half days with her.

‘Of course not,' Connie had replied promptly.

‘Oh, Connie, thank you. Frank has asked me to go out with him, and Thursday is his only half day free.'

‘I told you he had a twinkle in his eyes for you,' Connie had teased her, but inwardly she believed that the young policeman would be a good match for her friend.

There was a sudden commotion in the corridor as Mr Clegg, the surgeon, hurried out of one of the wards, pulling on his coat, and carrying his medical bag.

‘Ah Nurse!' he called out as he saw Connie. ‘Come with me, and hurry.

Connie hesitated uncertainly, but Sister had hurried out into the corridor behind the surgeon, and she told Connie immediately, ‘Yes, Nurse Pride, go with Mr Clegg.

The Surgeon was walking so fast that Connie could barely keep up with him as he raced through the Infirmary and across the forecourt.

‘Someone has just brought word that one of my patients has gone into early labour and there may be complications. Fortunately, she does not live too far away, but we must make haste.

It was said in the Infirmary that Mr Clegg was a man who never turned down work, and Connie reflected ruefully that that certainly seemed to be true. This patient must be one of the Infirmary's few paying patients, she decided, if Mr Clegg was prepared to attend her lying-in.

When they reached the house where the woman was giving birth, the midwife was waiting for them.

‘Breach it is, Mr Clegg, and I cannot, try as I might, turn the little bugger, she told them above the woman's screams.

Just for a second, Connie froze.

The woman's danger reminded her forcibly of the way her own mother had died, and quickly following on the heels of that still painful memory, came an unwanted acknowledgement that she, too, had come close to having her life bleed away from her with the child she had miscarried.

Pity for the woman on the bed filled her, and she made a small, silent prayer that she would deliver safely.

‘Nurse. Quickly. There is no time to lose!'

In the bedroom, the air was foetid and sour, the woman's screams more like the sound of an animal than a human being. Connie had to steel herself not to think of her mother going through this same agony, only to die at the end of it.

The midwife had already instructed the husband to boil some water, and Connie used it to sterilise Mr Clegg's instruments as he commanded her to do.

‘Tsk,' he exclaimed when he had finished examining his patient. ‘The child will have to be turned, and quickly. Otherwise …'

Connie swallowed hard. If he could not turn the baby then Mr Clegg would have to ask the father who he wanted to live, his wife or his child, because saving the one, would necessitate the death of the other.

Silently she prayed that the baby could be turned and that both mother and child would survive, and she was sure that her own relief was almost as great as the poor mother's when Mr Clegg announced that he had successfully turned the child.

‘Quickly now, Nurse,' he commanded. ‘We do not want it turning again. I shall have to use forceps.' He looked at the woman on the bed. ‘And perhaps a little chloroform.'

Connie nodded her head, holding the chloroform-soaked pad to the woman's nose as Mr Clegg went to work with his forceps.

Half an hour later, the mother was cradling her new son, who had suffered little more than some bruising as Mr Clegg had brought him into the world.

It was dark when they left the house and started to walk back to the Infirmary. The street was eerily, and somehow Connie felt, almost menacingly silent.

‘It's March now, spring will soon be here, Nurse,' Mr Clegg pronounced cheerfully.

‘It cannot come soon enough for me, Connie admitted. ‘This cold weather …

‘Ah, thank you, Nurse, you have reminded me that I must speak with the Infirmary Guardians and warn them that we shall need to order more coals. The Government has given out instructions that we must have our hospitals and infirmaries in a state of readiness for war, and that means being fully stocked and equipped with everything that we might need.

‘Do you think that there will be a war, Sir?' Connie asked him.

‘My heart wants to believe that there will not, but I am afraid that my head is not persuaded to agree with its optimism. What I do know though is that, if it does come to war, there will be dark days
ahead of us. Very dark days, but we shall be ready, and … Goodness, what is this?' he broke off to demand, as suddenly out of the shadows two men, caps pulled down and mufflers pulled up high to obscure their faces, started to move threateningly toward them.

‘Quick, Nurse. Get behind me,' Mr Clegg instructed Connie, but she refused to do so, standing firmly at his side, determined not to betray her fear.

‘Give us yer bag,' one of them demanded, ‘and empty yer pockets.' Connie gave a small gasp of shocked pain as the other man stepped forward and grabbed hold of her wrist, dragging her toward him and forcing her arm up her back.

‘Let go of that young woman at once, you rogue,' Mr Clegg demanded, but the two men both laughed.

‘You hold on to ‘er and I'll do the searching,' one of them commented lewdly, ‘and then you ‘ave your turn after …'

Sickness and terror filled Connie, and suddenly she was back in Back Court with Connolly standing over her.

‘Don't you dare …' Mr Clegg began, but it was too late, the man had already reached out a dirty hand and placed it on her breast. A sensation of being dragged back into the past seized her; fear and loathing exploded inside her, and Connie lashed out with terror-driven strength, screaming at him and kicking his shin with all her might.

The man let go of her with a howl of rage, at the same time as a policeman walked round the corner, and seeing what was happening started to run toward them. The villains fled.

Mr Clegg was explaining what had happened, and Connie could feel the waves of fear-induced dizziness and nausea rising from the pit of her stomach. But she was a nurse and she was not allowed to faint, so she had to grit her teeth and assure the anxious policeman that she was perfectly all right, as he insisted on walking them back to the safety of the Infirmary.

Once there, Mr Clegg announced that Connie was a very brave, young woman, and Sister, who had bustled up to see what was happening, relaxed her normal starchiness enough to say, almost kindly, that Connie could go and get herself a nice cup of tea.

Conscious of the honour being bestowed on her, Connie managed a weak smile, but in reality all she wanted to do was to go to bed, and pull the covers up over her head, so that she could have a good cry.

She had been so afraid! The touch of the man's hand on her body, the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, had reminded her terrifyingly of Bill Connolly. Never would she allow herself to be dragged back into that kind of life again!

‘How the months are flying by, Harry. It doesn't seem two minutes since we were all altogether after Christmas,' Mavis told her brother fondly, as they sat together in the parlour of the New Brighton house.

‘Mother tells me that you are walking out with someone, Mavis,' Harry answered, looking and sounding very like the older brother he was.

Mavis laughed and blushed. ‘Yes. His name's Frank. You will like him, Harry. Mother says I may bring him home for tea the next time I have a full day off.'

‘And your friend, Connie. Is she walking out with anyone?' Harry heard himself asking.

Mavis shook her head, a small frown pleating her forehead. ‘No, she isn't. Poor Connie, the most dreadful thing happened to her, Harry.'

Harry felt his stomach lurch and his muscles clench.

‘What do you mean?' he demanded.

Casting her brother a brief glance, for it wasn't like him to sound so grim, or be so peremptory, Mavis explained about the attack Connie had suffered.

‘Mr Clegg, our surgeon, told Matron that Connie was very brave. And she was, Harry,' Mavis added earnestly. ‘I should have been so afraid. Frank has told me that there is a very dangerous gang at work in Liverpool, preying on people and robbing them.' She gave a small shiver.

‘I am sorry to hear that Miss Pride has suffered such an attack,' Harry told Mavis in a low voice,
whilst inwardly he battled with his surge of very male, and very betraying, feelings. He wanted to hunt down whoever it was who had hurt Connie and teach them a lesson they would never forget. He also wanted to hold Connie in his arms and tell her that no one would ever hurt her again!

‘Please do give Connie my best wishes, Mavis. He paused to clear his throat, as his heart reacted to his intimate use of Connie's name. ‘And … and tell her that … that I have asked after her.

Mavis gave her brother a startled look. Harry's good-looking face was slightly flushed, and he was refusing to meet her eyes.

‘Harry Lawson, I do believe that you are sweet on Connie! she laughed.

Harry's face went even redder. ‘Don't be silly. He told her gruffly. ‘I hardly know her.'

‘What does that say to anything? Mavis challenged him mischievously, ‘Frank says that he knew I was the one for him the moment he set eyes on me!

‘I think I shall have to have a word with Mother about this young man, Harry warned her mock-seriously.

‘Well, if you would like to meet him … Mavis began, going a little pink herself now. ‘Since you have the whole week off, Harry, you could come to the Infirmary, and I could introduce you to him there. I am off duty the day after tomorrow at six, and so is Frank. He was going to wait for me and take me out for a bit of supper.

Harry frowned. It certainly sounded as though the relationship between his sister and her young man was becoming serious and, if that was the case, then surely it was his duty and his responsibility to see Frank for himself?