Gaslight in Page Street (50 page)

‘The last time I remember seein’ yer was when yer bruvver Geoff brought yer in the yard ter see the new ’orses. Yer couldn’t ’ave bin no more than nine or ten, an’ now look at yer,’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘I’m eighteen, going on nineteen,’ she replied.

‘Well, I’ll be ...’ laughed Charlie.

Josephine studied the chart and straightened up. ‘How long are you home for?’ she asked.

‘Seven days. Seven long days,’ he said, smiling. ‘I promised meself I’d get drunk every one of ’em.’

‘It must be dreadful out there,’ she said.

Charlie nodded awkwardly, a serious cast suddenly clouding his features. ‘It’s not very nice. In fact, it’s terrible,’ he said quietly, and then his face brightened again. ‘Look, I know I said I was gonna get drunk every night, but if yer like I could maybe take yer ter the music ’all? It’d be a lot nicer than gettin’ boozed, an’ we could ’ave a long talk about when we was kids. What d’yer say?’

Josephine smiled at him. He looked so handsome in his uniform and there was something in the way he was gazing at her which made her heart leap.

‘I’d like that,’ she replied, suddenly noticing the matron coming along the platform. ‘When?’ she asked quickly.

‘Termorrer?’

‘Yes, all right. Look, I’ve got to go now,’ she said anxiously. ‘I’ll be on duty until six o’clock. Meet me at the church hall in Jamaica Road, opposite the Drill Hall. Is that all right, Charles?’

‘That’s fine, an’ it’s Charlie,’ he reminded her.

The stern-faced matron gave him a brief glance and turned to Josephine. ‘Lord and Lady Dunfermline have arrived,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘I want you to make sure all those blankets are straightened, and none of the soldiers is to smoke. Is that understood?’

Josephine nodded. ‘Yes, Matron.’

‘Well, see to it.’

Josephine busied herself, stealing a last glance in the direction of the young soldier as he walked across the station concourse.

The overhead clock showed ten minutes past the hour of one as the official party came into the station, attended unctuously by a few of the military top brass and a group of civilians wearing morning suits and top hats. Lord Dunfermline was tall and stooped slightly as he walked unsteadily beside Her Ladyship. She wore a silver fox stole over a long black coat, and a wide-brimmed hat with a large satin bow. They both looked miserable as their entourage fussed and worried, and when Lady Dunfermline asked if there was a powder room the escorts were thrown into a state of panic. A room was finally provided, compliments of the station master, and Lady Helen sat down heavily in a chair.

‘I do wish you wouldn’t let yourself get talked into this sort of thing, Albert,’ she moaned. ‘You know how sensitive my stomach is.’

‘Sorry, m’dear. Couldn’t be avoided. We’ve got to play our part,’ he reminded her. ‘It could be worse. The Chalfonts are at a military hospital and Sir Norman Kirkby’s doing the St Dunstan’s thingy. Nasty one that.’

Lady Helen sighed and rubbed at her ankles. ‘Don’t take too long, Norman. Just walk quickly and don’t stop at every stretcher or we’ll be here all day long. I’ve an appointment at the dressmaker’s, and then there’s the party tonight. I do like to go looking my best and I can’t if I’ve spent most of the day talking to wounded soldiers. It is annoying. I do wish they’d chosen any other day but Friday.’

‘Sorry, old dear, can’t be helped,’ he said in the comically musical tone that he knew amused her.

Outside the station master’s office a haughty-looking man in gold-rimmed spectacles and a bowler hat was trying to calm the agitated young army doctor. ‘I’m sure they won’t be long. They’ve had a tiring journey from Hampshire and Lady Dunfermline’s got a bit of a headache,’ he said in a silky voice.

The doctor gave him a wicked look. ‘Those troops have not exactly been enjoying the trip,’ he protested. ‘They’ve had a rough crossing, and they’ve spent nearly three hours on a train in cramped conditions, and now they’ve been lying on the cold platform for the past hour. Now you go in and tell Lord and Lady What’s-their-names that if they’re not out in five minutes I’ll tell my orderlies to put the stretchers on the motor vehicles and despatch them to the hospitals, is that quite understood?’

‘But, but, I-I can’t do that,’ the official stuttered.

‘Please yourself,’ the doctor said casually, marching off quickly.

The official chewed on his fingernails in consternation and paced back and forth trying to think of some way to hurry the proceedings along without upsetting the venerable Lord and Lady. His torment was suddenly resolved as Lord Dunfermline emerged from the office looking a trifle distracted with Lady Helen at his side. ‘Lead on, Brown,’ he said with a sweep of his bony hand, and the official could smell brandy on his breath.

When he reached the first stretcher on the platform Lord Dunfermline stopped and smiled down at the pale-faced young soldier. ‘Feeling well, are we then?’ he said, walking on without waiting for an answer.

Further along the line he looked down at another casualty, the entourage at his heels bumping into each other as he stopped suddenly. ‘Rifle Brigade I see. Good man. Arm is it? Never mind, we’ll soon have you on your feet,’ he said cheerfully.

The young army doctor gritted his teeth in disgust. ‘The man’s lost his leg for God’s sake,’ he almost shouted at the matron.

Lady Dunfermline stood beside her husband mumbling at him to hurry along and finally the dignitary reached the last stretcher in the line. ‘How are we?’ he asked.

Josephine was adjusting the soldier’s bandages and she looked up with surprise. Her patient leaned up on his elbows and puffed loudly. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, pal, but I don’t feel too good,’ the soldier said sharply.

‘Steady on, private,’ an accompanying staff officer said quickly.

‘It’s corporal, mate,’ the soldier replied.

Josephine had moved to the head of the stretcher and she clasped the soldier’s arm firmly, trying to restrain him with a slight shake of her head. The officer flushed the colour of his headband and Lord Dunfermline looked taken aback.

‘East Surreys I see. First-class regiment, corporal,’ he remarked in a casual lilting tone. ‘What’s the injuries then?’

Lady Dunfermline bit on her bottom lip, dreading what she might hear, and Josephine held her breath as she waited for an outburst, but the corporal was not feeling very expansive.

‘Legs,’ he replied.

‘Sorry to hear that, old chap. How did it occur?’

‘Shrapnel.’

The dignitary straightened up and stared down on the wounded corporal. ‘Well I’m sure you feel proud and honoured to have done your duty for your King and Country, corporal. We all have our part to play in this war you know,’ he said in a loud voice, glancing around at the smiling members of his entourage as they nodded their heads enthusiastically and cleared their throats.

The corporal gritted his teeth as he pulled himself up on to his elbows. ‘Right now I’m only proud o’ this lot,’ he said in an icy tone, his eyes flashing along the line of stretchers. ‘They’ve all bin well an’ truly right frew the shit, an’ it ain’t doin’ ’em any good layin’ ’ere on this draughty poxy platform so the likes o’ you can do yer bit fer the war wiv yer stupid remarks, so if yer finished can we all get goin’ ter the ’orspital now?’

Josephine could hardly refrain from laughing aloud and her hand tightened on the corporal’s arm. Lord Dunfermline had been rendered speechless and he seemed to have become rigid as he stooped forward looking down at the soldier, his eyes popping and his face crimson. His lady wife was holding her hand to her brow, looking as though she was going to pass out. Murmurings went on around them and the staff officer looked like he could have cheerfully despatched the insolent corporal with a bullet from the revolver clipped to his shiny Sam Browne belt.

‘I’m awfully sorry, Lord Dunfermline,’ he groaned. ‘The man’s obviously suffering from shell-shock. I can only apologise sincerely for what he said.’

‘It’s all right, Willington, no need,’ the dignitary replied, backing away from the stretcher and the soldier’s burning gaze. ‘I think we’ve finished here. I’ll look forward to seeing you at the club this evening.’

As the group walked off the staff officer bent down over the stretcher, his face flushed with anger. ‘I’ll be wanting your name, rank and number, soldier. You could well be court-martialled for this outrageous behaviour,’ he barked.

Josephine’s eyes blazed and she stood up to face the officer. ‘Do you realise this man is badly wounded? I won’t have you talking to him like this,’ she declared, her voice charged with emotion. ‘I’m going to fetch the doctor.’

The corporal grinned. ‘It’s all right, luv,’ he said cheerfully, and the grin did not leave his face as he looked up arrogantly at the staff officer, ‘I won’t be court-martialled,’ he told him offhandedly. ‘When I got this little lot I finished bein’ a soldier. I s’pose yer could ’ave a go at gettin’ me pension stopped though. Let the bastard starve, eh? Don’t worry, pal, I ain’t gonna lose no sleep over a few coppers any ole ’ow. Now why don’t yer piss orf wiv the rest o’ yer menagerie an’ let us all get orf this poxy platform.’

The staff officer’s expression became apoplectic and he stormed off slapping his thigh with his cane and mumbling to himself about shooting the man where he lay. The corporal sank down on the stretcher, grinning up at Josephine’s bright red face as he forgot for a short moment the pain of his shattered legs. Behind him the army doctor sat on an empty wheelbarrow trying to compose himself.

‘I’ve never witnessed anything like that before,’ he croaked to the matron, who was trying to keep a straight face herself. ‘And did you see the way our little nurse squared up to that pompous git?’

‘They won’t do anything to the soldier, will they, doctor?’ she asked with concern.

The doctor wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Out of the question,’ he answered quickly, mimicking the irate officer’s clipped tones. ‘You heard what that idiot told Lord Dunfermline. The man’s shell-shocked. Evidently,’ he laughed.

Laughter rang out for the first time in months at the Tanner household as the whole family gathered together in the small parlour. James sat beside his brother Charlie, both still in uniform and looking slightly the worse for drink, and Danny listened eagerly to their account of a certain company sergeant who had apparently filched the men’s rum ration and later brought in four German soldiers at bayonet point after taking them by surprise when he fell into their trench in a drunken rage.

Danny laughed with his brothers as they finished the story, not quite knowing whether to believe it, and felt a sudden pang of envy. He had settled himself into a hard life on the river and felt happy in the job, but the nagging thoughts that he was missing out on the war plagued him. Now that his brothers were home and looking fit and well, Danny knew that he could not delay enlisting for much longer. After all, the war might be over soon, he thought.

Nellie fussed over the boys and tried to remain cheerful. She had been aware for some time that Danny would inevitably join his two brothers in uniform and struggled to hide her fears from her husband. William knew too, although he did not show the concern he felt inside. He laughed and joked with his soldier sons, happy that they were back safe and feeling as though his heart would burst with pride. Carrie had hugged her two brothers with tears welling in her eyes as she saw how grown-up and smart they looked in their uniforms. Now she sat between the two of them with her arms around their shoulders as James told yet another tale of army life. They did not talk about the fighting and the dying, and the family did not encourage them to. They were simply glad to be all together, and for a few short days able to forget the war.

Charlie joined in the laughter but his thoughts were elsewhere as he sat in the cosy parlour. He pictured the pretty young nurse and recalled the smile she had given him on the platform that morning, her eyes flashing and pert lips parting invitingly. He remembered those lovely eyes and how they seemed to be perpetually laughing. He wanted to tell his family about Josephine and how grown-up she had looked, but resisted the urge. He knew his mother did not like the Galloways and his father had always kept his distance from them considering himself to be just another employee of George Galloway’s even though the two of them had grown up together in the local backstreets. He would wait and see how things turned out before saying anything, he decided. After all, he would soon be back in France.

Along the street Sadie Sullivan and her husband were talking together in their parlour. Sadie was distraught. She sat at the table with her chin cupped in her hands and her broad shoulders hunched. Her face was still wet with tears.

‘I knew it all along, Dan,’ she groaned. ‘I told ’em. I even dared ’em, but they still went an’ done it. As if it ain’t bad enough our Billy bein’ in the war. What we gonna do?’

Daniel scratched his wiry grey hair and looked down at the fire. ‘Gawd knows,’ he sighed. ‘What can we do? They’re old enough. It ain’t as though they’re under age. We can’t stop ’em goin’.’

‘But surely if yer went down the recruitin’ office an’ told ’em there’s already one Sullivan in the army, they’d scratch their names off the list?’

‘They won’t take no notice, Sadie,’ he replied. ‘Yer’ve only gotta look round yer. There’s two o’ the Tanners in the army, Maisie Dougall’s two boys are in France, an’ there’s fousands o’ people round ’ere who’ve got more than two sons serving. Yer know we can’t do that.’