Liverpool Angels (21 page)

Both she and Agnes had prayed that at last there would be some hope of the war coming to an end – and soon. She’d go over to see Agnes, she thought; she was having a bit of a hard time with old Mrs Webster who was getting quarrelsome as well as forgetful now.

It was a lovely evening, she mused as she crossed to the shop. The street still held the warmth of the day but the fierce heat had gone with the slowly setting sun. It would be a good time to take a stroll on the waterfront, she thought. She might even suggest it, give her friend an hour or so away from the ever-present chores and concerns of daily life.

There was no sign of either Agnes’s mother or young Lucy when she entered the kitchen. She assumed Bertie was closing up the shop for his wife for Agnes was sitting at the kitchen table just staring ahead. She hadn’t even turned her head and Maggie realised instantly that something was wrong.

‘Agnes, luv, is your mam all right? Where’s Lucy?’ she asked in concern. Then she saw them. Two small buff-coloured envelopes lying on the table. ‘Oh, Agnes, no! No! Not . . . both . . .’ She couldn’t go on.

Slowly Agnes shook her head and turned towards Maggie, who gasped aloud at the pain in her friend’s eyes. ‘Just . . . just Harry. Jimmy . . .’ She pushed the envelopes across the table.

The lettering was so stark, Maggie thought. ‘REGRET INFORM YOU PRIVATE HENRY MERCER 18TH KINGS LIVERPOOL KILLED IN ACTION 1ST JULY’. Poor Harry, such a nice lad, and he’d been sweet on Mae; she’d known that and both she and Agnes had had hopes that one day they might have married, but those hopes had been dashed now. She opened the other telegram. Jimmy had been wounded but had been shipped home. She grasped at this straw. ‘Agnes, luv, you’ll be able to go to see Jimmy. He’ll be in a hospital down south somewhere; they’ll let you know and I’ll come with you, luv.’

‘Maggie, I can’t . . . I can’t take it in. My boys! My poor boys!’

Maggie gathered her in her arms and held her as the first of so many tears finally flowed. ‘I know, Agnes, it’s the shock. You let it all out, luv.’

Maggie stayed until it was dark and Bertie came in. She could see by his face that he was crushed by grief. He’d been walking, just walking, he told her, and it reminded her forcefully of the way her brother John had walked the city streets the night he’d learned that Beth had died. ‘Everyone has to cope in their own way, Bertie. I’m . . . I’m heartbroken for you all, but Jimmy has survived and you’ll be able to go to see him and then . . . then you’ll have him home.’ She was struggling to find something optimistic to say.

He nodded.

‘Where’s Lucy and Agnes’s mam? Do they . . . know?’ she asked hesitantly.

Again he nodded. ‘Lucy’s with my sister and Ma-in-law’s upstairs – asleep. Agnes had some laudanum, I . . . I gave her a few drops. I . . . I don’t think she really understands, Maggie, her mind . . .’

‘Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise, Bertie. Will I make a fresh pot of tea for you?’ she asked, thinking that Agnes should take a few drops of the laudanum too; at least she would sleep and find a bit of respite from her grief for a few hours.

‘I’ll do it, Maggie. I have to do . . . something.’

She could understand that and so after yet another cup of tea, and feeling that she could do nothing more for them that night, she went home feeling heartsore and very weary.

When she saw it lying on the floor in the lobby she stared at it in horror. The lad must have delivered it while she was with Agnes. Vividly she recalled the last time she’d received a telegram. Alice had been with her when she’d opened it but now . . . now she was alone. She picked it up and leaned back against the door she had just closed.

Would she see those same stark disjointed words? She tore it open before she had time to dwell on it further and then she let out a sharp cry of pure relief. Eddie wasn’t dead. He’d been wounded and shipped back. Over and over she thanked God for sparing him, for sparing her the grief that was tearing her friend apart. By now Eddie would be in one of those hospitals she had promised to accompany Agnes to; they hadn’t said how badly he’d been wounded, of course, but they hadn’t said ‘seriously’ or ‘dangerously’ or ‘fatally’ or any such words that would cause her to panic. No, she was fortunate. He’d survived for a second time and for that she’d go down on her knees every day of her life and thank God.

I
n the weeks ahead, as the offensive continued, slowly their workload had decreased and some semblance of normality had returned, Mae thought as she accompanied the medical officer and Sister Harper on the ward rounds. Once again they were getting their one afternoon off per fortnight, which allowed her to meet Pip. The relationship between them had changed; it was much stronger and closer now because of the shared bond of those first terrible days of the Somme, and she had at last written to Maggie telling her that she had agreed to become Pip’s wife when the war was over. In reply she had received a rather cautiously worded letter, from which she had gathered that Maggie hadn’t received the news joyfully, very probably because she’d assumed Mae’s feelings for Harry had been deeper than they actually had been. When she’d shown it to Alice, her cousin had advised her not to take too much notice of her mam; she’d had rather a lot to contend with of late with the worry of Eddie and Jimmy being wounded and the shock and grief of Harry and Tommy being killed. Despite this she’d even made the effort to go and see Tommy’s mam.

Alice had finally met Pip properly as the weeks had gone by. At first she had been a little cool and reserved with him but Lizzie had urged her not to let her feelings colour her judgement for Mae loved him and had agreed to marry him. She’d found that after the first few minutes she felt easier and acknowledged to herself that she liked him. Whatever Harry had felt for Mae had been buried with him and as Lizzie had said, no blame could be apportioned to Pip. She’d become close to Lizzie for she found her advice sound and sensible. Despite the difference in their backgrounds, they had much in common when it came to their outlook on life.

The doctor’s round being complete for the morning Sister Harper announced that she wished to see both Mae and Alice in her office when they’d finished the dressings.

‘I wonder what we’ve done now?’ Alice pondered aloud as they began to remove the bandages from the first of their patients.

‘Or what we haven’t done,’ Mae added.

‘Oh, well, we’ll find out soon enough,’ Alice said laconically.

It was almost lunchtime before they could finally keep the appointment and they could see that Sister Harper was harassed and not in a particularly good mood, which didn’t bode well.

‘I’m sorry we are so late, Sister,’ Mae apologised.

‘That’s infinitely preferable to rushing your duties, Nurse,’ Sister replied, taking a sheet of paper from the top of a pile in front of her. ‘You are both due for leave, I see. As you will both understand, it hasn’t been possible to let anyone go on leave lately. However, Matron has agreed that we return to the rota and you are both to have two weeks to go home. She will arrange the travel warrants. You both deserve the time off – as do all my nurses – and unless there is an unexpected development, everyone will be allowed the leave due to them.’

This came as a complete surprise to them both. Mae had been aware that the nurses were allowed leave every nine or twelve months but she’d never contemplated being given the time off in the near future and she saw Pip in what free time she did have so she didn’t mind too much. Alice hadn’t expected leave at all for they were still very busy and at the end of the day they were in the middle of a war, for heaven’s sake. ‘Thank you, Sister, we didn’t expect—’ Mae began.

‘When will we be able to go, Sister, please?’ Alice interrupted, feeling a frisson of excitement run through her for the first time in months. Home! She’d be able to see Jimmy again – and Mam and Eddie, of course.

‘Not for two more weeks, I’m afraid, but it will at least give you time to inform your families,’ Sister told them.

When they left they hugged each other delightedly.

‘I can’t believe it, Mae! We’re going home!’ Alice cried, her cheeks flushed.

‘Oh, a proper bed, decent meals, running water . . .’

‘Tea that doesn’t taste of chlorine, a hot bath! No having to wash aprons or cuffs every night,’ Mae added, laughing.

‘Or having to go through all our clothes and hair looking for lice. It will be heaven!’

Alice declared, ‘And I’m going to shorten the damned skirts of my uniform dresses to ankle length. I’m sick to death of them catching on everything, tripping me up and getting caked in dirt. I don’t care what
anyone
says or thinks, long skirts are just not practical for this kind of life.’

‘I know that only too well, but are you sure it’s a wise thing to do? I can’t see either Matron or Sister Harper or even your mam being very understanding about it.’

Alice shrugged, and then smiled joyfully. ‘But the very best thing will be being able to see how Jimmy is doing.’

Mae nodded. Alice received news regularly from Maggie on the progress of both Eddie and Jimmy’s health for they were both at home now. Eddie had been taken to a hospital in Birmingham but Jimmy had been too ill to travel far and so he’d gone to one in Portsmouth, then on to a convalescent home and finally back to his family in Liverpool. He was invalided out now, but she knew there was a real possibility that Eddie would have to return in time. ‘I’ll have to tell Pip that I’m going, but I’m not off this week,’ she said a little wistfully.

‘I am, do you want me to try to see him and tell him, maybe give him a note?’ Alice offered.

‘Would you? I know I do see him a couple of times a week when he comes in the ambulance but we never have time to chat much then.’

‘Scribble a few lines to him tonight and I’ll make sure he gets it tomorrow,’ Alice said firmly. She’d be writing to both her mam and Jimmy tonight with this great piece of news and would post the letters tomorrow.

The news that all the nurses were to go on leave, sooner or later, lifted the spirits of everyone. True to her word Alice, had given Mae’s note to Pip so on Mae’s next afternoon off he surprised her by producing a small box when they met at the Café Arc-en-ciel.

‘What’s this?’ Mae asked, looking bemused. She hadn’t expected a gift. ‘A going-home present?’

He smiled. ‘I guess you could call it that. When I got your note I was real pleased for you, Mae. After . . . after everything you’ve been through you deserve a rest, a vacation, and then I thought, Isn’t it about time you got her a ring, Pip Middlehurst? You
are
my fiancée now, Mae.’

Mae opened the little box that was covered in rather faded dark blue velvet. Inside was a ring, a square-cut ruby in an antique gold setting. ‘Oh, Pip, it’s . . . beautiful!’

He took it out of the box and slid it on to her finger; then he reached across and kissed her. ‘It’s for the most beautiful nurse in France and it’s the best I could find. I bought it from an acquaintance of our friend Monsieur Clari. It’s antique. I didn’t have much time so I enlisted his help,’ he confided.

Mae studied the ring on her finger and felt the happiness well up inside her. She was indeed now his fiancée and this beautiful ring would pronounce that fact to the world.

‘I’ve never had anything as beautiful or as expensive as this before, Pip,’ she said, her eyes bright with tears of joy. ‘The only jewellery I have is the watch Da brought me from New York, which I cherish, but I’ll cherish this so much too.’

Before Pip could reply Monsieur Clari appeared with a bottle of his best wine. ‘We make a
célébration, oui?
For the
fiançailles
.’

Mae beamed up at him. ‘Oh, Monsieur,
merci
,
merci
! It is so . . . 
aimable
 . . . !’

He beamed back as he poured the wine, delighted to have been involved in the procurement of the ring. ‘Much . . . happy . . . to you . . .’ His command of English then failed so he handed them each a glass carefully.

‘To
ma belle fiancée
!’ Pip said, touching his glass to hers. ‘I’ll miss you while you’re away.’

‘I won’t be away for very long and I’ll think of you all the time. I wish you could come with me, Pip.’

‘I do too, but one day, Mae, we’ll be together – always.’

Monsieur Clari had lost the gist of the conversation but had informed his other customers of the importance of the occasion and now the happy couple were toasted loudly and enthusiastically by the clientele, urged on by the café proprietor, for after all there wasn’t much to celebrate in life these days, he thought. Except perhaps that he was alive and still had his café and pleasant, friendly young customers like these two.

Alice exclaimed in open admiration at the ring when Mae returned to the hospital, but before returning to her duties Mae had reluctantly taken it off and replaced it in its box, knowing there would be very few occasions when she could wear it here.

‘At least you’ll be able to have it on all the time when we go home,’ Alice had reminded her. Mae couldn’t wait.

Maggie had been delighted when she’d heard the news and had given the house a thorough going-over – especially the girls’ bedroom – for the occasion. She’d scoured the shops for the ingredients to bake a cake and for the meals she intended to cook for them – for the Lord alone knew what kind of food they had to manage on, she’d told the various shopkeepers – and she was at Lime Street Station eagerly and impatiently waiting when their train pulled in.

‘Mam! Oh, Mam! It’s great to be back!’ Alice greeted her, hugging her tightly. Everything looked just the same, she thought joyfully, delighted to be home.

Mae greeted her in a similar fashion and then Maggie looked at them closely.

‘You’ve lost weight, both of you, and you look worn out,’ she announced.

Alice laughed. ‘I don’t know about the weight but we’re ready for a decent meal and a good night’s sleep in a proper bed, Mam.’

Maggie tutted and shook her head as she ushered them towards the station exit. ‘I’ve a good meal waiting and then you can tell me all your news.’

‘How’s Eddie?’ Mae asked as they emerged into Lime Street in the warmth of the early September evening. The familiar sight of St George’s Hall reminded her of the day the lads had marched to the station, a memory tinged now with sadness.

‘Coming on fine. I hardly recognised him when I saw him in that hospital in Birmingham. He was so thin, pale, weak and exhausted but he’s looking much better now.’

‘And Jimmy?’ Alice asked, wondering how soon she could go across to Agnes’s to see him.

‘Much better now that he’s home. You can go and see for yourself later on. I know he and Agnes will be glad to see you. She . . . she’s still in a bit of a state about Harry.’

‘She must be,’ Mae added sadly. ‘We were all very upset. Did Eddie tell you . . . much?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Not a great deal. Neither of them will talk about it all, so I expect to get more details from you two,’ Maggie replied firmly.

The two girls exchanged glances. ‘We only know what Eddie told us about the battle, Mam. We were miles away,’ Alice said.

‘But did he tell you that he carried Jimmy on his back all the way to the dressing station? He almost certainly saved his life,’ Mae informed her aunt.

‘No, he didn’t tell me that. All he said was they’d promised to look out for each other and they did, but that he was so relieved when he saw you both at the hospital.’

‘I think he deserves a medal and I really do hope he gets one,’ Alice added. ‘But don’t say anything to him about it if he hasn’t mentioned it. Quick! Here’s a tram. Let’s get home. I’m starving,’ she added, urging them hastily towards the tram stop.

They’d both declared it was the best meal they’d had since they’d left home and had almost gone into raptures over the first pot of tea Maggie had made.

‘You’ve no idea what the tea tastes like, Mam. All the water has chlorine added to it for health reasons,’ Alice had informed her mother, who had grimaced at the very thought.

They were both also relieved to see that Eddie was in much improved health and spirits.

‘You certainly look a lot better than the last time I saw you both, much cleaner and tidier,’ he’d greeted them, ‘and out of those uniforms you look more . . . normal.’

‘You always did have a nice way with words, Eddie, always ready with a compliment,’ Alice had replied sarcastically, although her words were softened by her smile.

‘You can go over with your sister to Agnes’s,’ Maggie instructed him as she cleared the table, for she could tell Alice was impatient to see Jimmy and she hadn’t failed to notice the ring on Mae’s finger and wanted to find out all about it.

‘No, I’ll go for a bit of a walk, Mam, it’s a fine evening and our Alice won’t want me playing gooseberry,’ Eddie said to her. He hadn’t seen Jimmy so animated or cheerful before, not until they’d learned that the girls were coming home on leave. He knew Jimmy was very fond of Alice. When he’d rejoined the battalion his pal hadn’t stopped talking about her. How much she’d grown up, what a great nurse she was, how she’d visited him every day, how they’d walked by the sea; the lads had often ribbed him over it.

‘Suit yourself, son,’ Maggie replied, thinking that maybe Jimmy would open up more to Alice about his experiences than he had to either of his parents. The fact that he didn’t worried them both.