The Carpenter's Children (19 page)

‘Isabel – oh, Isabel.’

Shocked and bewildered, at first she had no words for him. He, her husband, the dedicated and highly respected vicar of St Barnabas’ had forced her, just as a drunken brute might have done, or a
soldier quenching his lust with a whore.

‘Isabel, my love, forgive me. Forgive me, Isabel.’

What should she say? How could she reply?

Lying silent and still beside him, her eyes closed, she prayed earnestly for the right words; she reflected on his gentleness and courtesy over the past two years, patiently and self-effacingly denying himself his full conjugal rights throughout all this time, for her sake.
Until now
. And remembering this, she had her answer. She understood his anguish at leaving her to go and serve in a war from which he might not return, and his need to make love to her fully and properly before what might be their last farewell.

She turned to him and put her arms around his neck; she kissed him with an almost maternal tenderness, and gave him her whispered assurances that there was nothing to forgive.

‘Yes, we saw Ernest off yesterday, and Isabel’s husband went last Friday,’ Tom Munday said bleakly. ‘Makes you wonder how many more good men are going to be sent out there to be slaughtered.’

Eddie stared in some surprise. It wasn’t like old Tom to speak in such an unhopeful way. The two of them were sitting in the dusty yard at the back
of the Tradesmen’s Arms on what would have been a perfect August evening had it not been for the tension and anxiety in the air. All over the country families waited for news and searched the casualty lists dreading to find a loved one’s name.

‘How’s old Yeomans taking it?’ asked Tom. ‘I reckon your Mary won’t be short o’ work.’

Eddie Cooper shook his head. ‘He’s a broken man – aged ten years overnight. And my Mary has to put in a twelve-hour day, and keep them two land girls at it. She’ll crock herself up, that’s what she’ll do. Looked exhausted when I went over to give ’em a hand with the haymakin’ last weekend, seein’ there’s no casual labour to be had, they’re all at the front. It’s desperate – God knows how it’ll end.’ Eddie downed his glass of beer. ‘Anyway, Tom, you’d better be gettin’ back to that missus o’ yours – she’ll be lookin’ out for you.’

‘Not just yet. I’ll take another five minutes before I go home and pretend to look on the bright side for her sake. I’m bloody worn out with it.’

Eddie gave him a sharp glance. ‘Yeah?’

‘Trouble is I can’t speak the truth to Violet, Eddie. I have to hide behind a lot of comforting words, and I’m just about emptied out. My son’s at the front, so’s my son-in-law, Isabel’s on her own in a rough East End parish, with Zeppelins flying overhead. And I have to grin like a fool and pretend not to be worried. Hah!’

Eddie’s eyes showed his helpless sympathy as he tried to think of something encouraging to say. ‘What about your girl Grace?’ he asked. ‘She’s settled well enough at Everham General, hasn’t she?’

‘Yeah, she’s a ward maid or somesuch. We don’t see much of her because she has to live in. Just as well, really, home isn’t very jolly these days.’ He got up from the garden seat. ‘So long, Eddie. Hope your Mary keeps going at Yeomans’ farm.’

‘I thought you were never coming home,’ grumbled Violet Munday. ‘You say you’re short of work, but there’s still time to gossip with Eddie Cooper down at that pub. I’d have thought you’d want to get home as soon as you can, knowing I’m on my own here.’

‘Sorry, Vi,’ he said, kissing her. ‘Eddie was telling me what it’s like on Yeomans’ farm now that Dick’s gone, and no labour to be had.’

‘It’s downright scandalous that a farmer’s son’s sent out to get killed while that white-livered milksop Sidney Goddard stands in that damned shop selling ribbon and buttons and stuff – and our son facing death—’ She broke off, wringing her hands. ‘You won’t catch
me
going in there, and I’m not the only woman in North Camp to shun Goddard’s haberdashery, I can tell you!’

Tom heard the hysterical edge to her voice, and gently put an arm around her shoulders.

‘Sidney Goddard failed his medical on account of
his poor sight, Vi,’ he reminded her mildly. ‘What do you think he ought to do, if not to look after his father’s business?’

‘Find some work that a proper man can do – go down a coal mine, go and quarry stone and break it up, drive a goods train and stoke up the furnace –
anything
as long as he hides his stupid face in shame!’

‘Now, Vi, don’t get yourself into a state, it won’t make any difference to the war,’ soothed Tom. ‘As a matter of fact, I think I can find a job for young Goddard.’

‘Why on earth should you bother yourself about
him
when you’ve got a son and a son-in-law risking their lives every hour of the day at the front? I’ll never understand you, Tom Munday!’

‘Come on, Vi, calm down, there’s a good girl. We’ve got to go on being brave for Ernest’s sake – and for Mark and Aaron and all of them out there.’

She burst into a storm of weeping. ‘For God’s sake, shut up about being brave! Dick Yeomans killed last month, and our son could be next – and if you only saw the misery of poor Ethel Bird, her son Ted gone, and Tim still out there – don’t you
dare
talk about calming down and being brave –
shut up
and leave me alone!’

‘All right, Vi, only don’t forget I’m feeling it too. I’ll get the supper—’

‘Don’t bother about supper for me, I can’t eat anything. Just leave me alone.’

‘I’ll make a pot o’ tea, then.’ And do some watering, he thought to himself. The tomato plants were looking droopy, and life had to go on. An idea had come into his head, and tomorrow he’d have another word with Eddie and perhaps call on the Goddards. Desperate times call for unusual solutions.

Cadet Nurse Munday had fallen asleep after the alarm bell had gone off, woke with a start, leapt out of bed and dressed, grabbed a cup of stewed tea from the staff dining room and scuttled into Princess Alexandra ward where Matron was already taking morning prayers. It was going to be one of those days, Grace thought. She tiptoed towards the nurses standing around the sister’s desk, heads bowed and ready to recite the Lord’s Prayer in conclusion. Before Matron left to take prayers on Prince Albert ward, she eyed Nurse Munday with disapproval.

‘Unpunctuality is slackness, Nurse. Don’t make a habit of it.’

‘Sorry, Matron,’ muttered Grace with downcast eyes, and hurried into the ward kitchen where tea, porridge and bread and butter were waiting to be served to the patients, who included two children; one was a little girl of four who was to have a removal of tubercular glands of the neck that morning. Grace
had a special smile for her and a word for Mrs Temple, a mother in her thirties who had undergone a mastectomy for breast cancer and was only slowly recovering.

‘Poor little Tilly can’t understand why she’s not having any breakfast this morning, Mrs Temple, and thinks it’s because she’s been naughty – and old Mrs Stephens has to be fed her porridge, otherwise she just lays back and says her family have put her in the workhouse,’ Grace said cheerfully. ‘And there’s two women asking for bedpans before the breakfast things are cleared away – just try and hang on for another two minutes, ladies!’

A staff nurse came hurrying in. ‘There’s an accident case on the way, a young girl who’s broken her arm,’ she said. ‘And her mother’s on the hospital management committee. Better get this ward tidy quickly – hurry up, Munday!’

A disturbance was heard at the entrance to the ward, and a haughty female voice raised above others. Matron returned, followed by the ward sister as the double doors swung open for a frightened looking girl of about sixteen in a wheelchair, accompanied by a very imperious lady with a huge, flower-decked hat.

‘We shall want a private room for her,’ this lady demanded, and Grace pricked up her ears. She knew that voice, and it held no pleasant memories for her.

The ward sister shook her head. ‘I’m afraid there’s no single room available at present, but Diana could go in a corner bed. Nurse Munday, get Miss Clandon’s bed out of that corner, and move the empty bed into it. Come along, be quick! And fetch the screens to put round it.’

Grace looked sideways at Mrs Temple, and whispered, ‘Delighted to oblige, I’m sure, if I could have another two pairs of hands,’ and aloud she said, ‘Right, Sister, I’m just finishing breakfasts and starting bedpans – be with you in a minute!’

A probationer nurse was summoned to assist with the bed-moving, and transferring the new patient from the wheelchair to the empty bed.

‘
Do
be careful, my daughter has a broken arm,’ said the girl’s mother, and Grace rolled up her eyes. ‘Oh, heck!’ she muttered to Mrs Temple. ‘It’s Mrs Bentley-Foulkes, a fearful old hag. Watch out, this is going to be a right do-and-a-half!’

‘Diana’s GP has been sent for, and meanwhile she must stay absolutely still,’ said Matron, and the sister nodded. ‘Nurse Munday, bring a bedpan for Miss Bentley-Foulkes, we need to collect a specimen of urine for routine testing.’

Grace approached with a covered bedpan straight from the washer in the sluice, and attempted to help the girl to sit on it.

‘Ow! That’s hot, I can’t sit on that!’ protested the girl. ‘It’ll burn my bottom!’

‘Oh, I’m very sorry, I’ll go and cool it,’ said Grace, whispering to Mrs Temple as she passed her bed, ‘I’ll fill it with ice cubes next time, your ladyship.’

‘You’re so entertaining, Nurse,’ Mrs Temple whispered back, trying not to laugh. ‘It’s better than medicine when you’re around. Only do be careful,’ she added, nodding towards the corner bed.

It appeared that Diana Bentley-Foulkes had fallen off her bicycle as she set off for her voluntary work at the day nursery, and was in great pain with her left arm. When her GP arrived to examine her he announced that it was her left clavicle, or collarbone that had been broken, and that it would need to be manipulated into position under a general anaesthetic. Another GP, skilled in anaesthesia was duly sent for, and Mrs Bentley-Foulkes was told that her daughter was allowed nothing by mouth, not even water.

At this point the theatre trolley arrived to take little Tilly for her operation, and Grace made up her bed ready to receive her back. Screened off from the group gathered round Diana’s bed, Grace could hear every word.

‘Has that urine specimen been tested?’

‘Er, no, Sister, Munday forgot to save it,’ answered the probationer.

‘Oh, how careless of her! It means we shall have to obtain another.’

‘My daughter’s not going to be able to produce
any more if she’s not allowed even a sip of water! Who
is
that wretched nurse? I seem to recall her face from somewhere. What’s her name?’

‘Munday, Mrs Bentley-Foulkes, she’s a cadet nurse, fairly recently taken on.’

‘I knew it! That’s the one, Munday, she used to work as a waitress in a very high quality tea room, and got dismissed for insolence. Yes, now I remember Mrs Brangton telling me, she then went to work in a
public house
. A most unsuitable choice for a nurse, I must say – surely Matron must have asked for references? I’ll have a word with her about it.’

Behind the screen, but in view of Mrs Temple, Grace made a rude gesture towards Mrs
Bentley-Foulkes
, putting her thumb to her nose. Mrs Temple stifled a giggle, and there was a sudden silence. The ward sister gave a cough and cleared her throat.

‘I’ll say this much for Munday, the patients seem to like her, and she keeps them entertained. In these days of so much sorrow and bereavement, that’s quite important. As a matter of fact, Munday herself has a brother serving in France.’

‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with it, Sister. A great many of us have a son or a brother in the armed services, and as for the patients, she’s not here to entertain them but to
nurse
. I can just imagine a girl of that type, telling vulgar jokes and appealing to a certain class of person. Well, I shall see that Matron is informed about her past
history, and then decide about her future here.’

A gasp went up from the patients who could see Grace listening, followed by a low murmur of protest. The sister realised that Cadet Nurse Munday was behind the screen and must have heard everything. Mrs Bentley-Foulkes also guessed the situation, and for once looked slightly embarrassed.

Grace Munday pulled back the screen and revealed herself standing by the little girl’s bed. She stared very hard at Mrs Bentley-Foulkes, who flushed.

‘I don’t retract a single word of what I’ve said, miss, and I can only say that if the cap fits, wear it.’

‘You think you’re somebody, don’t you, Mrs Bentley-Foulkes,’ said Grace clearly and evenly, ‘but you’re nobody. Nobody but a stuck-up bitch – and I don’t retract a word of
that
, either.’ She turned to the astonished ward sister. ‘I’d better leave now, hadn’t I, Sister? Good morning – good morning and goodbye to you all.’

As she walked out of the ward, some of the patients called out, ‘Good luck, Nurse! Good for you, Bedpan Annie!’

Grace’s sister Isabel also experienced support and sympathy from those she served, and the work continued at St Barnabas’ Church without young Mr Storey, led by old Mr Storey and his popular daughter-in-law. Each of them worried about the
other, and they shared their worries over Mark, completing a short training at Aldershot before sailing for France and the continuing battles raging in the Somme valley. Mrs Clements fussed over them happily, and although looked upon as a busybody by many parishioners, proved herself to be a treasure; from her early resentment Isabel had come to feel real affection for her, and Mr Clements never once protested about his wife’s frequent absences from home – some said because he didn’t dare to, and others thought he must be thankful for a bit of peace and quiet with the old girl out of the house. She was determined not to be outdone in her care for the church, the vicarage and its occupants; she took on the leadership of the St Barnabas’ branch of the Mothers’ Union, a position traditionally held by the vicar’s wife, though she put a lot of people’s backs up by her bossy ways, and the membership fell, to Isabel’s dismay. She confided in her
father-in-law
and asked him whether she should take over the Mothers’ Union in addition to her school teaching and parish visiting; and after careful consideration he suggested that she take on the position of secretary to the MU, from where she would be a familiar face, keeping an eye on their activities and quietly influencing the leadership without appearing to interfere. This worked very well, as Mrs Clements was no writer, and being seen conferring with her secretary, the vicar’s wife, no less, gave her even more
prestige. Sally Tanner was not strictly eligible to join, not being a mother, but Isabel used her influence to enrol Sally as a member on the grounds that she had lost a child through miscarriage; and Sally gave her great satisfaction by doing well at the garment factory and keeping away from drink. ‘If I’m tempted, Mrs Storey, I think of you, and know I mustn’t let you down!’