Pattern of Shadows (22 page)

‘Doctor Pensch says he’s out of danger.’ Mary handed the notes to the sister on night duty.

‘What happened, do you know?’

‘Not exactly. Apparently there has to be an inquest.’

They’d finished walking from bed to bed discussing each patient. Now they stood in front of Peter.

‘We’re keeping him sedated.’ Mary picked up his wrist and studied her fob watch, his skin hot under her fingertips. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood.’

‘What’s happening about replacing Doctor Schormann?’

Mary kept her voice steady. ‘Matron says they’re going through records at other camps. The first two they found were Nazis so, of course, they were ruled out. We’ve enough of those of our own. We’ll have to muddle through until it’s sorted.’ It was all she could do to keep control of herself. She wanted to go home to the safety of her room, yet she felt she couldn’t bear to leave.

‘Are you ready?’ Jean appeared with their capes over her arm. ‘At least it’s stopped raining.’

When they got outside the ward she threaded her hand through Mary’s arm and, merging with the other nurses going off shift, led her to the main entrance. ‘Keep yourself together, love,’ she murmured and, out of sight of anyone, put Mary’s cape around her shoulders and fastened it. ‘Best foot forward now. Remember the sentries.’

‘Oh, Jean, I’m so glad Matron let you come back to work. What would I do without you?’ Mary walked with stiff legs along Shaw Road.

‘Well, that’s one thing about being at war, love, hospitals need all the help they can get. Including married women.’

‘The orderly said it was Frank. He said it was him that did it.’

‘So I believe,’ Jean said. ‘But they’re saying it was an accident, that he fired from the west tower overlooking the road while they were doing the count. The sentry I spoke to said one of the prisoners had been playing up all day and finally tried to rush a guard. Doctor Schormann simply got in the way.’ She stopped at the next lamppost pretending to tie her shoelaces. ‘Can I be honest?’ She kept her head down until the last of the nurses had gone
past. ‘I know you like the man, Mary, but if you’re not more careful it will look as though there’s been something going on.’ She straightened up, adjusting her gas mask on her shoulder. ‘You know what it’s like, what they’re like.’ She nodded in the direction of the nurses, the pools of dimmed light from their torches growing smaller. ‘There’s always tittle-tattle.’ The silence between them spread out. Eventually Jean moved nearer. ‘Mary?’ Jean clicked her own torch on so she could see her.

‘I couldn’t tell you.’ The words were barely audible. ‘We … I didn’t plan to get involved with Peter,’ she said, ‘it just happened.’

‘What? What on earth do you mean?’ Jean spoke in a fierce whisper. The bobbing lights had disappeared but the muted chatter of the women still floated through the darkness. ‘Involved? How involved?’ Her head was poked forward, her face only inches away from Mary’s. ‘Are you telling me there really is something going on?’

Mary could hardly breathe. ‘He’s a good man. He’s gentle, honest.’

‘Honest? He’s a bloody German. Hell’s bells, Mary, you’re supposed to be the sensible one in your family.’ Jean faltered to a halt before saying. ‘That time at our house, just after I lost the baby, when you first said you liked him, I was worried but this…’ She held her hands out in bewilderment. ‘Have you completely lost your senses?’ She shook her head and walked away, Mary followed. She felt as though her throat was closing. She tried to swallow but her mouth was dry.

When Jean spoke again, her voice was deliberately restrained. ‘Remember what happened to Hetty Crabtree from Clarence Street? She was caught fratting with
that POW she worked with on Tanner’s Farm. She was prosecuted under that Act. He was sent away. People were vicious; made her and her mother’s life hell, if you remember. None of the shops would serve them. They had horrible words painted all over the walls of their house. She couldn’t even walk down the street without getting things thrown at her. They had to move away in the end.’ She turned so quickly Mary almost fell over her. ‘How could you be so stupid?’

‘It was only the once.’ Mary’s skin shone pale in the darkness. ‘And I’ve scarcely seen him since Dad died, let alone…’ She shut up as Jean threw up her hands again.

‘It shouldn’t even have been once,’ she hissed, moving closer. ‘You could finish up in prison, your whole life, your career down the lavvy.’ Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘What if you’re pregnant?’

‘I’m not. I’ve had my monthly since.’ Mary felt the despair changing to anger and tried to curb it. ‘Peter could die, Jean, so I’m not going to be made to feel guilty for what I feel, what we did. I know you don’t approve.’ She paused. ‘No, it’s more than that … you judge and condemn, just as everybody else would if they knew. You don’t trust me, don’t understand what it’s like, any more than they would.’ She moved round Jean and walked on. They were at the crossroads of Huddersfield Road and Shaw Street before she spoke again. A car approached, its lights muted, and they had to wait until it passed. Standing still, Mary’s legs began to shake so much she couldn’t move and she held on to the wall of the end house. ‘No one needs to know; not unless you decide to report us.’

Jean whirled round at her. ‘How could you?’ she said, her voice strained. ‘How could you think I’d do that,
despite everything.’

‘I’m sorry, Jean. I had to know. I’m frightened.’

They stayed in the shadows of the house until both were calmer. Jean was the first to walk on. Gathering her cape around her she said, ‘I don’t approve, you know that. I won’t say anything, course I won’t, but promise me you’ll be careful.’ She blew her nose. ‘This is something I never thought I’d have to deal with. It scares me. It’s too close to home.’

‘I’m sorry, Jean, it just happened. Sometimes I wish it hadn’t and it frightens me to death, but I can’t help loving Peter and he loves me. I’ve even wished it had worked out with Frank … that he had been different …’

Jean put her hand over her mouth. ‘Frank? Does he know about Peter?’

‘He’s guessed, I think.’ Mary bit her lip.

‘My God,’ Jean whispered.

‘There’s something else.’ A car came from behind and splashed through a puddle in the road, spraying water over their feet but neither noticed.

‘What?’ Jean pressed Mary forward again. ‘Keep walking.’

‘It’s Ellen.’ Mary spoke in a rush. She’d let the one secret out she might as well tell Jean the other. ‘She’s written to me. She and Frank … they … made love … just the once and she says the baby’s Frank’s. She thinks he just used her to get at me.’

‘Hell’s bells, poor Ellen.’ Jean stared into the dipped low lights of the double-decker bus approaching. She waited until it had droned past. ‘What a bastard. Does he know that as well?’

‘Yes. I confronted him about it. Had to.’

‘Does Ellen know you’ve told him?’

‘No, I know I shouldn’t have. But he’s so bloody arrogant I couldn’t help myself. She’ll probably go mad.’

They walked on in silence. There was nothing more to say.

Winifred was huddled by the range and the fire was almost out. She didn’t turn round but said in a low voice, ‘There’re two letters on the table for you,’ and pulled her shawl further over her face.

‘Mam. You all right?’

Her mother slowly moved her head up and down and shifted in her chair, knocking over an empty bottle that rolled across the linoleum. Mary stopped it with her foot and picked it up. There were two others by the sink in the scullery. Mary closed her eyes for a second. How much more could she take today? She turned off the tap, which was dripping water on to a jumbled collection of dirty cups and plates. She stretched her neck from side to side, trying to loosen the tightness in her shoulders.

Walking back into the kitchen, she unclipped her cape, took off her cap and dropped them on to the table. She turned the envelopes over. ‘They’re both from Tom.’ Her mother didn’t answer. ‘I’ll read them to you later. I’m going to have a lie down. It’s been a bit of a bad day.’

Winifred lifted her shoulders, still didn’t speak.

Mary crossed to the fire, picked up two pieces of old chair legs from the scuttle and laid them on top of the grey smouldering coal. She waited a moment, watching smoke
creeping around the wood. ‘Mam?’ The older woman grimaced but said nothing, just stared into the grate. Mary saw her eyes were red rimmed and puffy. She squeezed her shoulder gently.

Holding the letters she went slowly upstairs and flung herself on the bed. She pulled Ellen’s pillow to her, smelling her perfume. She hadn’t wanted to wash it, wanted the reminder. Revealing the truth to Frank about the baby was perhaps the most stupid thing she’d ever done, well, next to telling Jean about it all, anyway. Please God she didn’t let it slip to Patrick: then the trouble would really start. Mary groaned and, still in her uniform, dragged the eiderdown over her and slept.

When she woke one of the envelopes crackled under her cheek. She ripped it open and held it towards the light from the landing. It was just two words.

Iori died.

‘Tom must be feeling dreadful, Jean.’ Mary gnawed on the inside of her cheek. ‘They were … were good friends, really good.’

‘And he hasn’t replied to your letters?’ They stood back from the rest of the nurses, waiting to be allowed in through the main gates.

‘No. I’ve written three times now. I’ve even written to Mrs Griffiths, Iori’s mother, to send my sympathies and ask if she knows what happened, but she hasn’t replied
yet.’ Mary pulled her cape tighter around her. ‘And I’ve telephoned the prison. I pretended I wanted a Visiting Order so they had to tell me what’d happened,’ she said. ‘They wouldn’t tell me anything about Iori, of course, because I wasn’t a relative, and all they said about Tom was that he was all right.’

‘And Tom said they’d been beaten up?’

‘Yes, in the other letter.’ Mary struggled not to cry. ‘He must be in an awful state. He said it was the same group of men that’d been making Iori’s life hell for ages. They’d beaten him badly and Tom lost his temper and took them all on.’

‘And the prison said …?’

‘They
said Tom and Iori’d been in a fight.’ Mary made a small huffing noise through her lips. ‘Honestly, Jean, Iori looked as though he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag, he was that skinny. I lost my rag with the chap on the phone. I asked him when they intended telling us about Tom. He said,
“There is no legal entitlement for us to inform you about such incident.”
Snotty bugger.’ Her voice rose. ‘I couldn’t believe it. I asked if I could see Tom and he said no, they’d put him in solitary.’

She thought of him and Iori sitting so close together the last time she visited. She’d been right to worry. And now Tom would be alone in that god-forsaken place. He must be going mad. It was a nightmare and she could do nothing about it. She felt sick. She needed to see him and she needed to find out what had happened. Surely the prison had to report it, didn’t they? Weren’t they supposed to tell the police? Was it all going to be hushed up? It was ironic that there might be an inquest about the shooting in camp and not into what had happened to Tom and Iori.
As soon as the thought occurred to her she felt guilty, but it didn’t seem right that there seemed to be one rule for one set of people and a different one for others. Anyway, it wasn’t Peter she was thinking of; it was the man who’d been killed, the man known to be a troublemaker. And just as quickly it flashed into her mind: perhaps that’s how the authorities at the Scrubs saw Tom, as a troublemaker.

A sob escaped without warning. One or two of the other nurses looked curiously in their direction. She glared at them until they turned away.

‘Move to one side please, girls.’ The guard waved his arms at the group.

A large black car drove up to the main gates. After a cursory check of the document that the driver pushed through the inch of open window, the sentry waved the vehicle in. Everyone watched as it stopped and then was allowed to drive through the gates of the compound.

‘Who was that?’

‘Who knows through all that dark glass,’ one of the other girls said.

‘Who cares?’ someone else said. ‘Let us through, can’t you?’ she shouted at the guard. ‘We’ll be late.’

Jean took hold of Mary’s elbow and moved them further away from the others. ‘It’ll be all right. I’ll ask Patrick to telephone. See if he can find out what’s happening.’

Mary squeezed her eyes tight to stop the tears.

‘Have you told Mam?’

‘Only that Iori’s died.’ Mary dabbed at her eyes. ‘She didn’t ask how and I didn’t tell her. I’m not sure it’s sunk in.’ She blew her nose. ‘Between that and – you know.’ She gestured towards the hospital. ‘I’m going out of my mind. It’s just one thing after another.’

‘You have to pull yourself together,’ Jean whispered.

I’m terrified Peter’s going to ramble … talk about me … about us.’ Mary said. ‘I know it sounds selfish but …’

‘They’ll put it down to the fever,’ Jean whispered. ‘Look, you’ve been working with him for months now. We all have. And we
all
get on with him and Doctor Pensch. It’s not as though you’re ever on your own with him.’ Jean stared at her with a determined look. ‘Is it? Are you listening, Mary? That’s what you say, OK? You’ve never been on your own with him.’

‘The investigation into that shooting starts today.’ The guard announced with self-importance.

‘Come on, Quarmby,’ one of the girls said impatiently. ‘What makes you think we’re interested? Just let us in, will you?’

He ignored her. ‘That lot were representatives of the Swiss ambassador.’ His voice became sour, the burn on the side of his face made his mouth twist even more as he grumbled. ‘They going to look after the Jerries; make sure their side of the story’s told about how Bock and Schormann got shot.’

‘Is that the name of the man who was killed?’ Nurse Lewis asked. ‘We weren’t told.’

‘Bloody hell, woman, what does it matter? One Hun’s same as another.’ The guard shepherded them through.

Mary and Jean lingered behind.

‘I’m more bothered about what Frank’s going to say,’ Jean said.

‘He seems to be keeping his head down,’ Mary said. ‘I haven’t seen him at all this week. In fact he hasn’t followed me since he was suspended from duty.’

‘Come on, girls. I haven’t got all day.’

‘Says he,’ a sarcastic voice intoned.

‘Obnoxious man.’ Nurse Lewis bristled. ‘Who does he think he is; calling me
woman
.’

‘Who indeed?’ One of the girls murmured. There were a few titters.

Quarmby lowered the barrier. ‘Yeah, Hans Bock he was called, a right bother causer. Well known for trouble. Spent more time in the cells than out. I don’t think he was that daft, mind,’ he continued to talk as they walked towards the hospital doors. ‘Meals brought to him … books to read … no standing out in all weathers for roll call.’ He raised his voice. ‘Got his comeuppance in the end though, didn’t he?’

‘I hate it when Bernard Quarmby’s on the main gate,’ one of the girls complained. ‘You can never get away from him. Standing around in the cold, that wind went straight through me.’

‘I hate these early starts; it’s like coming to work in the middle of the night,’ another said.

‘Too much partying, my girl,’ Nurse Lewis said. ‘Early to bed, early to rise; that’s my motto.’ The young nurse pulled a face at her friends as they bent over to write their names in the signing-in book and they giggled, furtively peering up at a group of civilian police who were milling around.

Mary looked through the windows in the ward doors. She couldn’t see Peter for all the pillows around him. She went into her office. The Staff Nurse who was going off duty was sitting at the desk finishing her reports. Taking off her cape Mary asked, ‘What’s that lot doing in the corridor, Staff?’

The woman scowled. ‘They’ve put the major who’s in
overall charge of the investigation in one of the side wards without a by your leave,’ she grumbled. ‘The police’ve been hanging around for the last hour, disturbing all the patients, disrupting things. I’ll be glad when it’s all over and we can get back to normal.’

‘Whatever that is these days,’ Mary said. Despite her determination to concentrate on her work, she found herself taken back to Tom’s words in his first letter.

…
I wanted to kill them when I saw what they were doing to Iori. I know I’ll never forget what I saw…

She shivered. She didn’t think anything would ever be normal again for her brother. Or her.

The woman fastened her cape. ‘Hmm, you’re right there. Oh, and by the way, there’s one of them waiting to talk to Doctor Schormann.’ She frowned. ‘He’s sitting right at the end of his bed, getting in everybody’s way. Won’t shift. Says the doctor is an important witness.’