Pattern of Shadows (11 page)

‘Oh come on, I’ve hardly seen you outside of work for weeks.’ Jean shook Mary’s arm. They watched the bus rattle away. ‘You haven’t told me yet how your visit to Tom went last week.’

‘I’d rather forget it. It was awful. Mam was so upset and by the time we got home she was out on her feet. I feel bad I persuaded her to go.

‘You didn’t make her go, She wanted to see Tom, you know she did. You said your father was stopping her.

‘I know but …’

‘It was her choice, Mary, just as it was Tom’s choice to do what he did; he wouldn’t be in prison if …’

‘If what?’ The skin on Mary’s neck started to prickle.
She heard the bus brake on the corner of Shaw Street and Bridge Terrace, saw an old man struggle to plant his walking stick on the pavement and step on the platform at the back. ‘If what, Jean? His choice? Hell’s bells, I can tell who’ve you’ve been listening to.’

‘It’s just that I can understand in a way how your dad … and Patrick … feel about what Tom did.’

Mary glared at her. ‘So it’s Tom’s own fault he’s being treated like an animal?’

‘I’m not saying they’re right, just that I understand how they feel,’ Jean spoke hastily. ‘It’s like I said to Patrick, we can all have different ideas about things.’

‘And I’m sure my brother agreed,’ Mary said. ‘After all, he’s so tolerant.’

‘Sorry, that came out all wrong. Forget I said anything.’ Jean linked her arm through Mary’s.

‘Just promise not to discuss Tom with Patrick again. He’s always been jealous of Tom and I’d hate to think it would spoil things between me and you.’

‘I promise, honest.’ Jean lifted her hand in a Girl Guide gesture. ‘Now, a girl’s night in, hmmm? Just us?’ She squeezed Mary’s arm. ‘You can give Frank a miss for one night, can’t you? Like I said to Patrick, surely you don’t have to see Frank every day do you, not every day?’

There she goes again. Mary took a long breath. ‘It’s a shame you and my brother don’t have anything else to talk about other than the rest of us.’ Jean’s reliance on Patrick’s opinion aggravated her, especially when it was about her and Frank. Even more so because she knew that, in this, they were right. Although initially flattered by Frank’s insistence that they met at least once a day, she had begun to feel stifled, swept along at a hectic pace that she had no
control over. ‘Anyway you’re a fine one to talk. We don’t see Patrick at our house from one day to the next, he’s always with you.’

They walked the few yards to the end of Moss Terrace. ‘Please Mary,’ Jean pleaded.

‘All right, all right, I’ll tell Frank I can’t see him tonight.’ He’d sulk but so what? ‘Anyway, I could do with a break from men. Doctor Pensch really got on my nerves today, dithering about on the ward today; he’s so slow.’

‘At least he’s pleasant enough, not like Schormann. Now he
is
a right pain,’ Jean said. ‘He’s too big for his boots and I don’t think he’s ever said more than two words to me on any shift.’

Patrick’s influence again. Mary kept her thoughts to herself. ‘The other nurses seem to get on with him,’ she said.

‘Well, not me.’ Jean looked sideways at Mary. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing really.’ She wasn’t about to tell her friend how the more she worked with the younger doctor the more she respected – no, she corrected herself, the more she liked him. Nor that in her mind she now thought of him as Peter.

And it was especially important that Jean had no idea that Mary believed her feelings to be reciprocated.

She thought back to the first time she’d realised that.

She was standing outside the hospital when Peter arrived to make a routine check on one of the patients. The outline of the mill and the countryside in the background were dense black shapes against a sky pierced by millions of stars and holding the slightest sliver of a moon. She
felt awkward being alone with him. She tilted her chin upwards to indicate the sky. ‘Beautiful night,’ she said. ‘So clear … the stars … so brilliant … Makes you forget all your troubles.’

‘I can never forget,’ he said in a low voice.

‘No, of course not: I’m sorry, Doctor.’

‘I hate this war. I hate what it makes of men.’

‘Yes.’ There was nothing else to say. A sentry strolled past on the other side of the fence. It was Quarmby, one of Frank’s mates. When he was directly opposite them, she heard him clear his throat and spit. Then he walked on.

‘It seemed …’ She stopped and then said, ‘It was as if he did that on purpose.’‘

‘Ja, soll der Teufel ihn holen
! It happens often.’

‘To all the men or just to you?’

‘Mainly at me, I think.’ He paced back and forth, taking short edgy drags on his cigarette.

‘I must go in,’ Mary said. ‘I only came out for fresh air.’

He stopped moving. ‘I will come too. May I finish this before we go inside?’

She glanced towards the compound; the two guards were talking. ‘I think I should go.’ She could see the pale blur of one of the men’s faces turned towards them. She shivered. ‘Has something happened, Doctor?’

He blew out a puff of smoke. ‘You know I am the
Lagerführer
?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I try to make sure the men follow all Camp rules.’

‘Yes.’

‘I took this role because I thought I could help make things better, easier for the men. But some of the guards
do not want things to be easy for the prisoners. They make sure there is always trouble. I have complained to the Commandant.’

Mary remembered something Frank had said once; she wouldn’t put anything past some of the sentries. ‘It must make things difficult in there.’

‘Yes, since then …’ He wafted a hand towards the guard who was now retracing his steps. ‘That … and worse.

‘Sometimes, a lot of the time, I am sorry I became involved in this war, it is not right and I could have avoided … this.’ He gestured towards the compound. ‘I could have continued to work at the hospital in Berlin where I had qualified, but my father thought I had a duty to my country to use my skills to help those who fight.’ He dropped his voice even lower. ‘I would be beaten by the Nazis amongst us if they heard what I am saying now.’ Peter carefully squeezed the end of the cigarette and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

A ginger cat slunk past, low to the ground. Within seconds another followed, growling, and vanished towards the side gate in the security fence a few yards away. Almost immediately there were piercing shrieks and yowls, followed by a man shouting and the clatter of something being thrown. The cats flashed past again. Peter ignored them.

‘I would even have preferred to stay at home,’ he continued, ‘helping my father and brothers on the farm but that was not allowed. So I was sent to use my skills where it was thought they would be most needed.’ He raised his chin. ‘And I am proud to say that I saved many lives throughout the years. I gained much respect. I was valued by the army.’ He straightened his shoulders.
‘That all changed when I was captured. In El Alamein. The soldiers, they were …
schweine
… pigs. They took no notice of my Red Cross status. I became officially a prisoner of war. Even though I was vigorous in my protestations that I was the medical officer, I was still treated like the others. I still had to put up my hands. They marched us to an assembly point. All our personal possessions were taken from us,’ he pushed his sleeve up, ‘including my watch. We were interrogated. Oh!’ Mary watched the muscles in his jaw move.
‘Ich war böse
, I was angry, furious, they would not believe who … what I was. We were all locked in a building for days. Then we were brought to Britain. I have been moved from one camp to another with no recognition of my status. Here, at last, I am recognised as a doctor. I have the so-called status of
Lägerfuhrer
but even so, some of the guards …’ He faced her, taking in an unsteady breath. ‘With some of the guards,
es gibt keine Rücksicht
, there is no respect.’

‘You have my respect and that of my nurses: you are highly esteemed on the ward.’ Even as she spoke Mary was aware of the recklessness of her words. And that they were standing too close. She stepped back.

He acted as though he hadn’t noticed. ‘And for that I am grateful, especially after I was so ill-mannered the first time we met.’

Mary dipped her head. ‘That’s forgotten now.’

‘Even so…’

She cut in, ‘You should tell the Commandant what has happened since your complaint.’

‘It would cause more trouble, make matters worse. Difficult perhaps even for you.’

‘Me? Why me?’ Mary stopped abruptly, remembering
Quarmby. Peter Schormann was talking about Frank. How did he know about her and Frank? She touched her throat, feeling the heat against her fingers. The nurses were always gossiping on the ward, he’d probably heard about them through that. ‘Whoever is the instigator, Doctor … whoever is causing the problems that make it difficult for you to carry out your role here you should report them. Whoever it is.’

And whatever the consequences, she thought.

‘Well?’ Jean asked.

‘Sorry?’

‘I think I’ve been talking to myself for the last five minutes. Are you coming round tonight or what?’

‘I was just thinking what to tell Frank.’

‘Just tell him you want a night off.’

‘Right,’ Mary paused. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ll do that.’

‘Good. Seven o’clock and don’t be late.’

By seven o’clock Mary was glad to get out of the house. Almost every day over the two months since the Union had given in to Government pressure forcing the strikers to return to work, Patrick and Bill had quarrelled. Tonight had been no exception.

‘Hey, wait for me,’ Patrick shouted. He caught up with her as she crossed to walk along Shaw Road, his shoulders hunched with tension.

‘I was supposed to meet Frank at eight but I’m going to Jean’s instead,’ Mary said. Will you be seeing him?’

‘Should do.’ Patrick shrugged. ‘He’ll be in The Crown. Usually is at this time of night, if he’s not working’

‘Can you let him know?’

‘Aye, OK.’

‘I do wish you wouldn’t get Dad going like that, especially when we’re leaving Mam on her own with him. You know he’s been spoiling for a fight since she went with me to see Tom.’

‘Yeah, OK, he just gets me so wound up, crowing about how we lost the strike. We fought so bloody hard to get a decent wage and now they’ve beaten us. The men should never have given in so easily.’

‘What set him off tonight?’

‘We’ve got another meeting before we go on shift now. He has to stick his two penn’orth in, telling me what to say.’ He took a last pull on his cigarette and gave a snort of laughter. ‘Anyway, you don’t need to worry about Mam, he won’t be clouting her again; you put the fear of God in him last time. Besides he’s on duty tonight, I heard him talking to Ellen before she went out.’ He hunched his shoulders higher. ‘But I’ll tell you this, Mary, I’ve had enough of him poking his bloody nose in. I’m going to find lodgings somewhere. I can’t stand his bloody pick, pick, picking all the soddin’ time.’ He strode away.

Mary caught her lower lip between her teeth. Here we go again, she thought, muggins here will be left to pick up the pieces. She turned into Moss Terrace. Jean was already on the doorstep, waiting for her.

Jean’s news that she was pregnant hadn’t been too much of as surprise but Mary worried about the repercussions on the family. Her father would go mad when he found out; he really would lay into Patrick this time, perhaps even the strike would pale into insignificance compared with the prospect of an illegitimate baby. One thing was sure, if her friend’s belief in Patrick was right and he did marry her there’d be less money coming into the house and that would be the first thing her father would cotton on to. Either way he’d be unbearable. She curled her arm above her head and closed her eyes. She’d just have to give Mam more of her own wages. She sighed loudly.

‘What?’ Ellen lifted her head off the pillow, her voice petulant.

‘Sorry.’

Ellen turned over and bounced to the edge of the bed, dragging the covers with her.

‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ Mary said. ‘It’s been weeks since that business in The Crown and, except for when we got the news about Ted you’ve barely spoken a word to me since.’

‘Just shut up.’

Mary heard the quiver in Ellen’s voice. She knew her sister still visited Mrs Booth but whether it was still from guilt or genuine compassion she wasn’t sure. ‘Oh grow up, you’re like a big kid. I’d rather we were friends, Ellen, but if you want to carry on sulking you can; I’ve other things to worry about.’

Ellen grunted.

‘Things that will affect you as well.’

‘What?’

That got her interest. ‘It’s time you listened to a few home truths, my girl. If Frank and me hadn’t brought you home that night you could be in the same boat now as …’

‘As?’ Ellen turned her head, now wide-awake.

‘Jean. She’s over two months pregnant.’

‘Who by?’ Ellen propped herself on her elbow.

‘Well, who do you think?’ Even as she spoke Mary knew Ellen’s question was genuine. ‘If you opened your eyes as to what’s happening in this house, you’d know.’

‘Patrick?’

‘Patrick.’

‘My God!’

‘And it’ll be you next, if you’re not careful.’

‘I won’t be that stupid.’

‘You think you’re so clever, Ellen, but you’re not.’

‘If something did happen Al would look after me.’

‘And pigs might fly,’ Mary said. ‘You wouldn’t see him for dust.’ She turned her face towards Ellen. ‘You’re such a selfish little cow. This isn’t about you. Just for once, think about someone else. Think about it. They’ll get married. It’ll be one less wage in the house with Patrick gone. There’ll be ructions, Dad’ll hit the roof, Mam will cop it.’

‘Not my problem.’ Ellen lay down again.

‘You’re unbelievable.’ Mary leaned low over her. ‘And it will be; you’re going to have to stump up more of your wages.’

‘Not on your life.’

‘I could make it your problem. You do know that, don’t you? Who do you think covers up for you when you don’t bother to come home at night. Mam and me, that’s who. What do you think Dad would say if he knew what his
precious little girl gets up to? Do you know what he would
do
if he heard you were messing around with an American? You’ve heard him often enough once he gets on his bandwagon, going on about the “bloody Yanks”, he doesn’t think they should even be here.’ Ellen burrowed deeper under the covers. Mary pulled them off her, relentless. ‘You know that any mention of them he goes berserk, you know he thinks they not interested in helping us; that they only got into the war because of Pearl Harbour. So what do you think he’d do if he found out about you, eh, on top of Patrick’s news?’ She sat back, pulling her share of the eiderdown up to her chin. ‘He’d take his strap to you. And for once in your life, I’d let you deal with your own mess.’

Ellen bounced over to her own side of the bed.

Mary closed her eyes, leaning against the iron bedstead, thinking about Jean earlier in the evening. Mam will go spare when she finds out, she thought. On the other hand Mrs Winterbottom will be in clover. And it hadn’t taken Jean’s mother long to realise it.

‘I can’t believe Mother.’ Jean perched on the end of her bed after hustling Mary upstairs as soon as she arrived. ‘She’s actually excited about it, even planning the wedding. She says there’s no point in putting it off.’

‘Does Patrick know?’

‘Not yet. I’m going to tell him tomorrow.’ Jean was confident. ‘He did say … when we first, you know … he did say he’d look after me, so I’m sure everything will be all right. And Mother says she’ll buy us a double bed as a wedding present. And we can have the front room to ourselves. She’s being so good about it all. I can’t believe it!’

Mary could; Patrick would be both an added income and a useful source for extra rations.

‘I’m meeting him after work tomorrow. I’ll tell him then. It’ll be fine,’ Jean said. ‘Listen, I know you’re not too keen on dancing but let’s all go to the Palais tomorrow.’ She giggled. ‘I’ll be too fat to move soon, so I’m going to make the most of it.’

There was no doubt in Jean’s mind that Patrick would accept what had happened. For a moment Mary felt a stab of envy; they’d be planning their future while she’d be still stuck in Henshaw Street. What chance did she have as long as Mam relied on her wages?