Far From Home (13 page)

There would be little time to speak to him tonight either, for he was on fire watch duty and would probably only call in to collect sandwiches and a flask of tea before rushing off again. As for Cissy … She’d managed to avoid all her mother’s questions and had run off to afternoon rehearsals. With an evening performance to get through, she wouldn’t be home until very late.

‘You’re looking fretful, dear. What’s the matter?’ Mrs Finch eyed her over her spectacles.

Peggy checked on the fish pie and closed the range door. It was very hot in the kitchen, despite her having opened the window, and she could feel her dress sticking to her back. ‘I meant to do so much today,’ she said on a sigh, ‘but time has run away with me.’

‘At my age it goes in the blink of an eye,’ Mrs Finch replied dryly.

Peggy didn’t want to discuss her worries over Jim and Cissy – some things were just too personal to share – so instead, she smiled down at the knitting in the older woman’s lap. ‘That matinee jacket is coming on a treat,’ she said. ‘Anne will love it.’

‘Hello. Something smells nice. When’s tea? We’re all starving.’

Peggy grinned at the three young nurses who’d come into the kitchen. ‘At the usual time. Don’t they feed you at that hospital?’

‘Not with anything you’d be wanting to eat,’ said Suzy, who’d become the spokeswoman for the three of them. ‘It’s all boiled cabbage, potato and fish.’

‘Nothing wrong with that.’

‘There is when it’s watery and tastes like rubber.’ Suzy pulled a face.

‘Well, you’ve got fish pie tonight, and I can assure you, it won’t be tasteless,’ chirped Mrs Finch. ‘I made it myself, so I should know.’

‘Go and get out of those uniforms and into something more comfortable,’ advised Peggy. ‘It’s a lovely evening out there, and it would be a shame to waste the last of the summer. The old deckchairs are down in the basement.’

‘Um, Peggy.’ Suzy’s auburn curls were like a halo around her elfin face as she took out the pins. ‘Would you mind if we asked some friends to tea next Sunday?’

Peggy noticed how none of the girls could meet her eye and she bit down on a smile. ‘Would these guests be male, by any chance?’

Suzy tossed her hair from her shoulders. ‘To be sure they are, Peggy. Aussie boys, actually. They were patients of ours, and now they’re on the last few days of leave before they’re shipped off to wherever the army sends them. They’re ever so much fun, and to be sure, you’ll love them, so you will.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ she said dryly. She’d been married to an Irishman for too long to be swayed by sweet talk, flashing eyes and a lilting brogue.

‘We told them all about you and Beach View. To be sure I said you and Mrs Finch were wizards at cooking up a good meal.’ Her blue eyes were wide with appeal. ‘They’re ever so far from home, Peggy, and we thought it’d be nice for them to come and enjoy some home comforts before they got stuck into the fighting again.’

‘I can’t just magic three more meals out of what I can get out of the rationing,’ Peggy murmured. ‘Things are tight already, and young men have vast appetites.’

‘Oh, you’re not to be worrying yourself about that,’ said Suzy hurriedly. ‘They’ve promised to bring some meat with them, so they have. In Australia, they cook their meat outside on something called a barbie – but I’m sure it would taste the same cooked on your range.’

‘All right. But they stay downstairs where I can keep an eye on them. I’ve heard about some of the things those Aussies get up to, and I’ll have none of it in this house.’ She eyed them sternly, but couldn’t quite manage to maintain it.

Suzy threw her arms round Peggy’s neck and gave her a hug. ‘Sure, and you’re a saint, Peggy.’

‘I’m far from that,’ she said, untangling herself with a chuckle. ‘Now get out of my kitchen and take your blarney with you.’ She followed them into the hall, preparing to lay the table for the evening meal, when a thought struck her.

‘Just a minute, Suzy. Did you see Danuta at the hospital today? Do you know how she got on?’

‘I haven’t seen her at all today, Peggy, but then I have no reason to be going down to the laundry.’

Peggy shooed them up the stairs and walked into the dining room. She still found it strange not to see Sally’s sewing machine in the corner, or the trunk with all her finished clothes lying under the bay window. But Sally had moved on, and now her home dressmaking business was flourishing in the front parlour of her friend Pearl’s little house down by the fishing station.

Peggy sighed. So much had changed in the year since war had been declared. Pearl was married and expecting her first baby, and Sally was engaged. Quiet little Edie, who’d been billeted with them for only a matter of weeks, was a land girl and courting a farmer. Aleksy was dead, and Anne was pregnant, about to move into her own little house. Now she was about to be inundated with Australian soldiers.

‘Whatever next?’ she breathed. But, as she set out the cutlery, she couldn’t quite dismiss the little thrill of pleasure at the thought of all those young people enjoying themselves in her home. The war was hard on all of them – what harm could it do to let their hair down for a few hours?

POLLY HEARD THE
girls’ laughter and chatter as they pounded up the stairs to the floor above. They certainly sounded a lively bunch, and she was looking forward to meeting them, but that would have to wait until later.

Her two uniform dresses and the cape were already hanging in the wardrobe, and she’d finally managed to work out how her cap should be pinned. It was a complex arrangement of starched pleats which didn’t sit too easily on the thick bun of hair at her nape, and she’d spent some time fiddling with both to get it right. Satisfied she was prepared for the following day, she was about to dig in the drawer for a thicker cardigan when a voice made her start.

‘Who are you? What are you doing in my room?’

Polly felt ridiculously guilty as she stood to face the pale, thin young woman who glared at her from the doorway. ‘Peggy had no other room so she put me in here,’ she said hastily. ‘You must be Danuta. I’m Polly Brown.’

The large green eyes regarded her evenly. ‘I did not think you were coming.’

‘I was delayed,’ replied Polly, rather stung by this cool reception.

Danuta’s gaze flitted to the uniform hanging in the wardrobe. ‘You are nurse?’

‘I start at the Memorial tomorrow.’ Polly took in the drab brown dress which did nothing to enhance the other girl’s wan colouring, and realised it was the same as that worn by the hospital laundry staff. ‘If our shifts coincide, perhaps we could walk there together?’

‘I work in the laundry,’ Danuta said flatly. ‘My hours are different. But I too am a nurse.’

‘Really?’ Polly was struggling to understand her coldness.

‘Yes, really. But Matron say I must work in the laundry because I am Polish. She calls me Chimpsky, but my name is Chmielewski.’

‘How very rude of her,’ muttered Polly, remembering Matron’s shouted command as she’d stepped into the laundry.

Danuta walked further into the room and eyed Polly’s photographs on the mantelpiece. ‘I am theatre sister in Poland.’

‘That’s a very responsible post,’ replied Polly. ‘I’m surprised you couldn’t get a job at the Memorial. It’s a busy hospital.’

The other girl turned from her scrutiny of the photographs. ‘I do not have the pieces of paper which prove I am qualified. They are lost in siege of Warsaw. But Matron not believe me. She is not nice woman.’

‘She’s a complete cow,’ muttered Polly with feeling.

A smile lightened Danuta’s expression, making her almost pretty. ‘In my country we call such women
kurwa
. It means the same, I think.’ The smile remained as her gaze travelled over Polly’s photographs again. ‘These pictures are of your family?’

Polly nodded and, in the hope of keeping up this friendlier dialogue, pointed out her family members. ‘This is my mother, and this is my sister with her two boys – and this is my husband Adam with our daughter Alice.’

‘You are very lucky, I think,’ murmured Danuta, as she fingered her own photographs on the bedside table. ‘My family are gone, and I am alone in this strange country, not able even to do my nursing.’

Polly could hear the bitterness in her voice and was able to understand it. ‘That must be awful for you. I’m so sorry.’

Danuta shrugged. ‘It is not for you to be sorry,’ she murmured. The smile had faded and her green eyes were almost accusing as she regarded Polly. ‘You are staff nurse?’

Polly nodded. ‘And I’ll be coming in at all hours,’ she said hastily. ‘I hope I won’t disturb you – you see I didn’t realise I’d have to share a room.’

Danuta eyed her solemnly. ‘I did not think I would have to either.’

Polly grabbed the thick cardigan from the drawer and slung it over her shoulders. She was wasting precious time, and it was clear Danuta had little intention of even trying to make friends. ‘Well,’ she said evenly, ‘it looks as if we’re stuck with one another, so we’d better make the best of it.’

Danuta shrugged. ‘It is no matter to me. I am only laundry woman, not important nurse like everyone else in this house.’

Polly took a deep breath. ‘Look, Danuta. It is not my fault that I have a nursing post and you don’t. Not my fault we have to share a room. But it would be nice if you could at least
try
to be friendly.’

‘For why?’ She looked genuinely puzzled. ‘You English do not like foreigners, even though my brother died fighting for your RAF.’

‘That’s most unfair,’ snapped Polly. ‘You know nothing about me, and you can’t tar us all with the same brush just because you’ve had a run-in with Matron.’

‘Then I am sorry if I have upset you,’ Danuta said, lowering her gaze.

Polly relented, and had to control the urge to hug the other girl. She looked so defeated. ‘And I’m sorry I snapped,’ she said, ‘but I’ve had one hell of a journey here, and my husband is lying in a hospital bed, far more seriously injured than I thought. Visiting hour begins in less than half an hour and I don’t want to be late.’

‘Then you must go,’ breathed Danuta.

Polly grabbed her handbag and gas-mask box and headed for the door. She turned on the threshold to find that Danuta’s expression had softened, and that there was the shadow of something she couldn’t interpret in her eyes. ‘We can talk when I get back,’ she said. ‘I would like us to be friends, Danuta. Goodness knows there’s enough trouble in the world without us being prickly with one another.’

‘I too would like to be friends,’ she murmured. ‘I am sorry if I was rude to you.’

Polly glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, Peggy, but I’ll be late for tea. Visiting’s from six until seven, so it will be a regular problem.’

Peggy smiled. ‘I’ll keep a plate warm for when you get back. But surely you don’t have to stick to the visiting hour? Not with you being on the staff?’

‘Matron’s rules,’ Polly said, pulling a face. ‘I’ll be back after seven.’

‘Did you get to meet Danuta?’ Peggy called after her. ‘I heard her come in but didn’t have time to warn her you were here.’

Polly nodded. ‘We’ve introduced ourselves,’ she said shortly. Not wanting to elaborate and waste any more time, she fled out of the door and down the steps.

* * *

There were few visitors in Men’s Surgical, which led Polly to think that most of the patients must be servicemen, far from home and family, the travel restrictions making it impossible for their loved ones to visit.

She was all too aware of them watching her as she walked down the middle of the ward towards the end bed, and gave each of them a warm smile. Poor men; she knew from her experience in Hereford how desperate they must be to see their loved ones – knew how disappointed they were when yet another evening passed with no sign of a familiar face. The volunteer hospital visitors from the WVS and the Salvation Army did their best to bring cheer with their gifts of books and newspapers, but Polly understood how their kindness barely touched the longing for the sight and sounds of those closest to them.

She could see no change in Adam and sank into the chair beside his bed and watched him breathing. ‘Hello, my darling. It’s Polly, and I’m going to be seeing you every day from now on, so you’ve got to wake up.’

His hand was cool in hers, and he didn’t seem to have a temperature, which meant he was clear of infection. She felt his pulse. It was steady but weak, but there had been no reaction to her voice or her touch – and she realised he was so deeply sedated, he was unaware of everything. ‘Oh, Adam,’ she breathed. ‘There are so many things I want to say to you, my love.’

‘Mrs Brown?’

Polly turned to see the ward sister standing at the end of the bed and wondered if she was about to be reprimanded again.

‘I’m Sister Morley. I hear you had a bit of a run-in with Matron this afternoon.’ A smile was hovering on her lips, the brown eyes kindly in the motherly face. ‘I shouldn’t take it personally,’ she said at Polly’s nod. ‘She barks at everyone.’

‘So I understand,’ murmured Polly. ‘I do hope she didn’t tear that probationer off a strip. It really wasn’t her fault.’