Pattern of Shadows (27 page)

‘You’re settling back in all right, Sister?’

‘Thank you, Matron, yes.’

‘Good. And you would rather wait until the Commandant arrives before you tell me what this is about?’ Matron’s mouth was pursed.

‘Please. Only so I don’t have to repeat myself, Matron.’

Mary wasn’t told she could sit down. She clasped her hands in front of her.

‘And there are no problems with my hospital or the running of my hospital?’

‘No. No, it’s nothing like that.’

‘Hmm.’ Matron picked up a pen and began writing. Mary knew she wasn’t mollified.

The door opened and the Commandant strode in. ‘I hope this won’t take long Matron.’ He was unusually impatient. ‘I have a delegation of angry POWs waiting to see me about the cut in rations.’ He flopped down in an armchair in the corner of the room.

Matron pointed at Mary with her pen. ‘Sister Howarth has something to share with you, Major Taylor.’ She stressed the ‘you’.

‘With both of you, Matron,’ Mary said.

‘Well, sit down, girl, and get it over with. As you heard, the Commandant is a very busy man.’

Mary hadn’t thought about what she wanted to say; she’d acted on impulse. Now she knew she should be careful. ‘It’s Doctor Schormann.’ Both raised their eyebrows but said nothing. ‘I overheard him telling Sergeant Strauss today that he was being threatened by some of the Nazis for a piece he wrote in the Camp
newspaper. When I asked him about it he refused to discuss it with me.’

‘Quite right too,’ Matron said. ‘Your conversation should extend only to hospital matters.’

‘I know, Matron, and I’m sorry. It’s just that he only returned to his post a few weeks ago because of his injury and –’

‘Which was an accident,’ the Commandant broke in.

‘Yes, of course, Major, I was only trying to say he perhaps is not as strong because of the accident.’

‘I am not sure how that concerns you, Sister.’ Matron fiddled with the pen and leaned back in her chair.

Mary laced her fingers together to stop her hands shaking. ‘My only concern is the hospital, Matron. You said yourself last week that we were short staffed and when Doctor Schormann was a patient they couldn’t find anyone to replace him. We can’t afford to lose his services again, especially as Doctor Pensch isn’t too well either.’

‘All right, all right. Perhaps you should tell Major Taylor why you are concerned.’

‘You know how things are at the moment Major; we have a ward full of men as a result of the beatings and bullying by the Nazi faction within the camp. And then there was that murder, just before I returned to work; that prisoner hung in the wash house as a supposed traitor.’

‘A one-off incident, Sister.’ Major Taylor said, frowning.

‘But it could happen again … Doctor Schormann …’

‘Sister,’ Matron warned.

Mary didn’t stop. ‘His piece in the
Wochenpost
could be misconstrued by the Nazis.’ She saw them glance at one another. Matron was looking increasingly agitated.

Mary knew she had said too much. Her words tailed off. ‘It was only that I thought we’re so busy we can’t afford to lose him.’ She waited for one of them to speak.

Matron rapped her pen rapidly on the arm of her chair, scowling at Mary.

The Commandant leaned forward, his hands steepled, and he tapped his fingertips together before standing up. ‘Right, Sister, leave it with me.’ Holding the door handle, he responding to the older woman’s stiff smile. ‘Matron.’ He studied Mary. She thought he was going to say something else, but adjusting his cap, he opened the door and left.

‘Close the door after you, Sister,’ Matron said coldly.

Mary stood up. ‘And, Sister.’

‘Yes, Matron?’

‘You are treading on very thin ice. I’m not a fool and I’m neither deaf nor blind. I know what goes on in my hospital.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Matron.’

‘Oh I think you do, my girl. In fact I know you do.’

‘No, Matron, I don’t. If I could go now, the ward is busy?’

‘Then you should have thought about that before you came to me with concerns that are none of your business.’

Mary bit back her retort. ‘Matron.’

The woman waved her away. ‘Don’t make me regret taking you back, Sister Howarth.’

Mary pulled the door to behind her. She couldn’t let go of the handle, even though she realised that Matron would probably be watching her through the glass panel. Finally she took in a huge gulp of air and moved away. Walking back to her ward, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

The backyard was a suntrap. It was hot and it wasn’t even midday yet. Mary had dragged what they still called her father’s armchair out from the kitchen and now sat next to Jean, who was perched on a wooden chair, her hands folded over her stomach. Neither mentioned the faint but still unpleasant smell that lingered over next door’s lavatory. Mary tilted her face to the sky and narrowed her eyes; iridescent particles of dust danced above her head. She tried to relax but a headache lurked behind her eyes. She hadn’t slept properly for days, not since the interview with the Commandant and Matron.

‘There’s no way you should have got involved,’ Jean said, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Now you’ve got on the wrong side of Matron, she’ll be watching you like a hawk. It’s as though you’ve lost all reason. The man is a POW.’

‘Shush.’ Mary peered over her shoulder towards the house. Ellen was in the scullery emptying the wash boiler.

Jean followed her glance. ‘Should she be doing all that lifting? It’s not two months since she had the baby.’

‘I know. She came home as soon as they took the baby apparently and she won’t talk about it. It’s as though it never happened.’

‘I don’t know how she could part with her, poor little girl. What will happen to her?’ Jean stroked her stomach.

Mary felt a twinge of irritation. ‘I don’t know but I do know Ellen felt she had no choice. But I am worried about her. What with her and Tom.’

‘No visit yet?’

‘No, I don’t know what’s going on, it’s a worry.’

‘You seem to be worrying about everyone but yourself,’ Jean said. ‘You should be thinking more about what you’re doing. If you take my advice you’ll stay clear of you know who.’

‘I’ve not seen him anyway,’ Mary said. ‘He seems to be on different shifts all the time. We’ve had Doctor Pensch on the ward for the shifts I’m on.’ Mary circled her fingertips over her temples.

‘I thought Doctor Pensch wasn’t well?’

‘Stomach ulcers apparently; he’s being given extra rations. Why are we talking about Doctor Pensch?’

‘It was just that you said you hadn’t seen Peter.’ Jean stopped and sniffed. ‘Smell?’ she pointed towards next door.

‘Lavvy, stinking.’ Mary nodded.

‘No, the pipe smoke.’ Jean mouthed the words, ‘Mrs Jagger.’

‘All right, Mrs Jagger?’ Mary called. There was exaggerated coughing and the lavatory flushed. The girls listened to her shuffling across the yard.

‘Nosy old bag,’ Mary said.

‘But that’s exactly what I mean,’ Jean whispered. ‘You have to be careful. They didn’t stick those “Walls have Ears” posters up for nothing.’

‘Not sure they were thinking about old Jagger though.’ Mary smiled slightly.

‘It’s not funny.’

‘I know, I know,’ Mary said, ‘I just didn’t think …’

‘Bit like you not using your head about Peter. The war might be over, just about, but we don’t know what’s
going to happen and you can’t carry on like this. Anyway, you told me he’s married. He’ll go back home, once he’s released. Back to his wife.’

Mary closed her eyes. ‘He might not. I’ve heard they’re allowing some to stay if they want. I just need to talk to him.’

Ellen came out into the yard. ‘I’m going to have to move you two,’ she said. ‘I’m putting the sheets out.’ She unfurled the line off the hook on the wall and carried one end over to a large nail in the doorframe of the lavatory where she fastened it with a bulky knot. ‘Get me the prop, our Mary. I’ll need some help putting this lot out before you go to work or the sun will be off the yard. Mam’s no use. She’s sneaked out the front door. I think she’s gone up to Mr Brown’s.’

‘Oh Lord, not again.’

‘Still having trouble?’ Jean said. ‘I thought she’d stopped.’

‘She’s better than she was,’ Mary said. ‘It’s him, it started again as soon as he came home. Ellen being back has helped a bit, but Mr Brown’s a really bad influence on her.’ She put her arms around her friend and heaved her out of the kitchen chair they’d brought outside. ‘God, you’re a lump now. Are you sure it’s not twins?’

‘Cheeky beggar,’ Jean giggled then gasped and held her side. ‘There’s something going on in there today: feel.’

Mary held her hand over Jean’s stomach; there was a rippling motion under her fingers. She laughed and caught Ellen watching, misery etched on her face.

‘Ellen.’ Ellen shook her head. ‘I’m all right.’

‘I’m sorry, Ellen.’ Jean stood still, waiting to get her balance. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘It’s fine.’ Ellen set her lips and dumped the wash basket of wet clothes on the chair Jean had just left. A rhythmic thumping began and clouds of dust rose above the adjoining wall between the back yards. Ellen climbed on top of the dustbin and scowled at the woman beating a hearthrug on the washing line. ‘Mrs Jagger, you’ve done this for as long as I can remember. Every time we put our washing out you beat your bloody rugs. Why can’t you wash on a Monday like everybody else?’ There was a mumbled reply.

‘Well,’ Ellen declared, ‘carry on and you’ll find out what I’ll do about it. I’m not my mother and I won’t stand for it.’ She climbed down. ‘It’s taken me all morning to do that lot. I’m not letting the old cow muck it up again. Help me move the mangle out of the way, Mary, and then we can peg out.’

‘It’s heavy. We should leave it until Patrick comes back. He can shift it again. We can work round it. I’ll help to peg out the sheets in a minute.’

‘Right, thanks.’

‘I’ll get Jean inside first. I won’t be a minute.’

‘I’ve upset her,’ Jean murmured as she waddled across the yard.

‘It’s not difficult at the moment, between the baby and Mam.’ Mary stood behind Jean at the back door and guided her through.

‘Is there any way I can help?’

‘No, you’ve enough to think about. Get things sorted between you and Patrick. From what you said earlier he needs a good talking to. He should be looking after you at this time not being so irritable.’

‘He’s got a lot on his mind, at the moment between
worrying about me and still having trouble in work with that bloke he had that fight with before.’

‘And he’s not told you what that was about?’

‘No, but he is one of those who opposed the strike so perhaps that’s it. And Patrick does feel bad about Tom, you know, about not going to see him before.’

‘I really don’t know what’s happening with Tom, I’m worried sick.’

‘You’re at it again, mithering about everybody else. Stop it. And we’re fine, Patrick and me, honest.’

Mary shrugged as she helped Jean on to a chair by the table. ‘Hmm, if you say so, we certainly don’t need him going back to how he used to be.’

‘He’ll be better when the baby’s here.’ Jean wriggled about trying to get comfortable. ‘I’ll be glad when it’s all over.’

‘I’ll be glad when a lot of things are all over,’ Mary said.

There was a loud knocking on the front door. As Mary went to answer it she found herself thinking yet again, What now?

She closed the door and leant against it, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. The rushing noise filled her head and she was cold. The rose pattern on the hall wallpaper spun as she stared in front of her.

‘Mary? Are you coming to help me with these sheets or not?’ Ellen called from the kitchen, impatience in her voice.

Mary pulled the front door open again and gulped in air, hanging on to the doorframe. An old man shambled past, staring at her with curiosity.

‘Mary? What is it? Ellen touched her shoulder. She ducked under Mary’s arm to look at her. ‘Come on in.’ She helped Mary into the hall, pushing backwards with her foot to close the door. ‘Come and sit down.’ In the kitchen she lowered Mary on to a chair at the table and sat opposite her. ‘Is it Mam?’

‘No.’

‘Patrick?’ Jean whispered.

‘It’s Tom.’

Ellen put a hand to her mouth. ‘What? What’s happened?’

Mary folded her arms across her waist. ‘He’s on hunger strike. He hasn’t eaten for nearly a fortnight. He’s ill,’ she said. ‘I knew it, I knew there was something wrong.’

‘Why?’ Ellen whispered.

‘Who was that at the door?’ Jean asked.

‘A constable, he didn’t say why, he just said they’d had a message at the station to come and tell us.’

They stared at each other. Jean was the first to speak. ‘Is he in the prison hospital? Have they said you can see him?’

‘Yes! No!’ Mary swallowed, tears still threatening. ‘They took him to the hospital wing yesterday. After last time, when he escaped, they won’t take him to the civilian hospital. We’re still not allowed to visit.’ She tried to breathe slowly. ‘It’s like he has no rights. Just what the hell have they been doing to him?’ She stared at them. ‘That policeman, he was so matter of fact. He said that he’d just come to tell me that Mister Thomas Howarth, currently
detained at His Majesty’s pleasure in Wormwood Scrubs, is on hunger strike. Just like that. He said it just like that.’ Her voice rose. ‘And then he said, “Has been on hunger strike for the last fourteen days.” For God’s sake. As though it wasn’t important.’

‘Try to stay calm, love.’ Jean placed her hands flat on the table and pushed herself up. ‘I’ll get home and tell Patrick.’ She stroked Mary’s hair. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

‘We could demand to see Tom,’ Ellen’s voice wobbled.

‘There’s no point,’ Mary said, ‘they’d not let us in.’ She’d stopped trembling. ‘I’ll walk back to your house with you,’ she said to Jean.

‘It’s only two streets away.’

‘I’ll see Jean home, Mary,’ Ellen said, blowing her nose. ‘I can do that.’

‘You should go in to work, Mary,’ Jean said. ‘Sort out that business you were talking about before.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘I’ll finish putting the sheets out while you decide,’ Ellen said. ‘That still needs doing.’

‘Leave the mangle.’

‘It can stay where it is, it’s not important.’ Ellen hurried out.

‘There’s nothing you can do yet,’ Jean said. ‘Go to work.’

‘Patrick?’

‘I’ve said, I’ll tell Patrick. He’ll know what to do. He can tell Mam as well.’

‘Mam! Oh my God, Jean, you know what she’s like about Tom. This will be the final straw for her.’

‘Patrick and I will see to her.’ Jean said. ‘You go to work.’

‘I feel I should stay here … in case there’s more news about Tom.’ Mary was torn. ‘We should be deciding what to do together. But I need to go into work as well. Find out …’

‘Look, Mary, I know I’ve been wasting my breath about this business with Peter. I don’t agree with it but I can see what you’re going through. So go and sort it if you can, but for God’s sake be careful. If there is any more news about Tom, I’ll send Patrick up to the Granville.’

Mary stood up. ‘You’ll be all right?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll go and get my uniform on. I’m going to ask Matron what’s happening about Peter. I have to know.’