An Orphan's War Read online

  She and Pearl were different in every way, Maxine mused, but they’d always been friends, against both mothers’ wishes. Her mother was forever warning Maxine that Pearl was a bad influence and not to spend too long in her company.

  Guiltily, she realised she hadn’t visited Pearl since her wedding, though the lapse was nothing to do with her mother’s comments. Maxine had had several months of nights at the hospital and it had been difficult to fit in social visits with trying to sleep in the daytime – almost impossible in a small terraced house.

  Bits of lino were missing on some of the treads of the second flight of stairs to Pearl’s quarters, and once Maxine caught her heel, ripping it a little further. A baby cried and the smell of soiled babies’ napkins from one of the first-floor flats wafted up, but she was used to worse when she walked through the babies’ ward. She knocked and instantly the door opened. There stood Pearl looking lovely as always in a navy straight skirt that slimmed her eager curves and a bright pink top with scooped neckline and short sleeves. High heels raised her a little nearer Maxine’s height. Her grin nearly split her face in two.

  ‘Max! What a lovely surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over this quickly. You’re lucky I’m here. Come on in.’

  She stood aside while Maxine brushed past her into the one large room with a kitchenette at one end. Pearl had a bedroom and use of a box room off the landing, and shared a bathroom with the family downstairs. Although Pearl kept it clean enough, the room was terribly untidy; so different from the way Maxine’s house-proud mother kept her home. She mustn’t compare. This was homely and friendly, which Maxine didn’t always feel in her own house.

  ‘Take your jacket off. I’ll make some tea. Or would you like something stronger?’ Her cousin sent her a mischievous smile. ‘A gin and orange?’

  ‘No, thanks. But tea would be lovely.’

  Pearl filled the kettle and put it on to boil, all the while talking to Maxine.

  ‘Nursing seems to suit you.’ She turned to have a closer look at her cousin. ‘Or is it married life you’ve taken to?’ she asked, a chuckle escaping her full lips. ‘Can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since the wedding when I last saw you.’

  ‘I could count on two hands how many days Johnny and I have spent together,’ Maxine said, ruefully.

  ‘Yeah, but what about the nights? That’s the bit I want to hear about.’

  Maxine laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s all people make out.’

  ‘Hmm … maybe not, if it’s not with the right person.’ Pearl frowned as she measured out one-and-a-half level teaspoons of tea in the pot and poured the boiling water over the leaves. She popped a tea cosy over the teapot and looked up. ‘I always thought Johnny was more a brother than a boyfriend. No one was more surprised than me when I got the invitation to say you were marrying him. Sounded like a hurried decision to me. I even wondered if you’d got a pea in the pod.’

  Maxine couldn’t help laughing. Pearl always prided herself on calling a spade a spade.

  ‘Not then or now,’ she said. ‘I’ve little time for that, though Johnny would love it if I did. But I want to continue my training and eventually do my finals before I even think about starting a family.’

  She felt Pearl give her a sharp look. ‘And how does Johnny feel about that?’

  ‘He’s not keen,’ Maxine admitted. ‘But I think I’ve talked him round.’

  Pearl shook her head. ‘It’s impossible to talk any man round,’ she said firmly as she set out the tea tray.

  ‘Let me help,’ Maxine offered.

  ‘No, you sit there. I know what it’s like to be on your feet all day.’ Pearl brought the tray over and poured out the two cups. ‘Biscuit?’

  Maxine shook her head. ‘I had an early supper in the canteen.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, enough of me. It’s you I’ve come to talk about.’

  ‘You got my letter?’ Pearl sucked in her breath as though bracing herself for her cousin’s answer.

  ‘Yes, I did. And congratulations for getting through the audition. That was marvellous news. I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, ever since you were a little girl and made us act out your stories with strange costumes and props.’

  ‘Being an only child, I had to make do with you as my nearest playmate.’ Pearl grinned. ‘We had fun, didn’t we?’

  ‘We certainly did.’ Maxine chuckled. ‘Until you moved over the other side of town. I can’t believe how the time’s gone. All those years ago. And now you’ve become a real actress. What did your parents say when you told them?’

  Pearl’s face fell. ‘They’ve washed their hands of me. My father said he’s not going to come and see it. Mam didn’t exactly say that, but you know how she always does what he says.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But they’re a bit old-fashioned. You have to see it from their point of view.’

  ‘Well, I’m not letting them stop me. It’s my dream and I’m going to grab it with both hands.’

  ‘Have you started rehearsals yet?’

  ‘Next week.’ Pearl gulped her tea and set down her cup and saucer on a small table by her chair. ‘I’ve met most of the cast. They seem a nice crowd.’ She looked at Maxine. ‘I’ve had to give my notice in at Woolworth’s.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Oh, they were sorry to lose me … that sort of thing. They did give me an extra week’s wages, which I didn’t expect.’ She withdrew a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and took two out, offering one to Maxine who shook her head. Pearl lit it and inhaled deeply. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me asking, Max … about the money.’ She looked directly at Maxine.

  ‘No, I didn’t mind. The only problem is, I’ll need some extra money myself because I’m thinking of transferring to St Thomas’ hospital in London.’

  Pearl raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? Any particular reason?’

  ‘I want to specialise in heart diseases, and they’re known for it.’

  Pearl narrowed her eyes. ‘The truth now.’

  Maxine’s face flooded with heat.

  ‘You’ve been married less than a year and Johnny’s away practically all the time so you can’t feel stifled.’ She stared at Maxine. ‘Or is it Aunt Edna and Uncle Stan?’

  ‘Well, it’s time I broke from them,’ Maxine said, a little pink that Pearl had grasped the main reason for going. ‘After all, I am married, and if Johnny hadn’t joined up we’d have our own place by now. It doesn’t even feel as though I’m married when I’m still living at home.’

  ‘I can’t blame you there.’ Pearl was thoughtful for once. ‘No, of course you need your bit of cash. I’ll manage all right – something will turn up – it always does.

  ‘I’ve got nearly thirty pounds put by.’ Pearl’s mouth opened in amazement. Maxine looked at her cousin. She had to do a bit more to help her. ‘So I’m willing to share it with you – fifteen pounds each. Will that help?’

  Pearls’s face broke into a beam. ‘That would be marvellous, Max … but are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. Far be it from me putting obstacles in the way of my cousin’s forthcoming fame.’ She smiled.

  Pearl jumped from her chair and hugged Maxine. ‘You’re a real pal, besides being my favourite cousin.’

  ‘I believe I’m your only cousin.’ Maxine grinned, hugging her in return.

  Pearl laughed. ‘You know I’ll pay you back.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Regard it as a present … my faith in your acting and singing abilities. Just make sure I get given a ticket to this first show. What’s it about anyway?’

  ‘It’s a musical called Better Days. I do a bit of singing and dancing, mainly in the chorus. Thanks so much.’ She kissed Maxine’s cheek. ‘I really mean it, Max. You’re a darling. And if I can ever return the favour … you know you’ve only got to ask.’

  Chapter Four

  Maxine rushed upstairs to read Johnny’s latest letter in the privacy of her bedroom. Sometimes they were censored and so
meone would black out words or even whole sentences. In the last letter, he mentioned he was going abroad but couldn’t say any more, but in this one he sounded excited and told her not to worry if she didn’t hear from him for some time. Something big was on. He finished off:

  But if anything should happen to me, Max darling, be happy knowing I wanted to do the right thing and fight for my country. And don’t waste a minute of your life.

  All my love, and can’t wait to see you again.

  Always your Johnny xxx

  She looked at the date – 8th May, but the postmark was blurred. It had taken nearly three weeks to arrive. This was the first time Johnny had hinted that he might not make it. Maxine chewed her bottom lip as she carefully folded his letter and put it back into the envelope. What if he was severely injured? Needing her. She’d never forgive herself if she wasn’t there for him. Momentarily, she closed her eyes. London was out of the question.

  The following day, she was in the nurses’ common room when she picked up the Daily Express one of the other nurses had tossed aside. The headlines shouted triumphantly:

  TENS OF THOUSANDS SAFELY HOME ALREADY

  Many more coming by day and night

  SHIPS OF ALL SIZES DARE THE GERMAN GUNS

  Conscious she was due back on the ward in ten minutes, she skimmed the article. Every possible vessel which sailed had been sent out to rescue the men … the British, French and Allied troops trapped on the French coast. Her heart missed a beat. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Johnny was on the other side of the Channel – in Dunkirk. And try as she might, she couldn’t picture him stepping into one of the rescue boats. He would always see that others go before him – inherent in his medical training.

  Maybe she was allowing her imagination to run wild. She turned the page, desperate to read more, but there were other stories of battles and no more mention of Dunkirk.

  Maxine scanned the papers every day, obsessed with the story. It was the longest week and by the 4th June over 300,000 soldiers had been brought back to British shores. Lists of names of those rescued were published every day, but she never saw Johnny Taylor’s name amongst them. Of course she had no proof he was even at Dunkirk. But she didn’t need proof. His letters had stopped and, as far as she was concerned, that was enough. She was only thankful she’d never applied to St Thomas’. Johnny would need to know she was close by when he returned.

  It was hard to push Johnny to the back of her mind and care for her patients. Injured men and women were coming into the hospital every single day, and every time she dreaded it would be Johnny they brought in on a stretcher. She was still convinced he was in Dunkirk and hadn’t been rescued and tried to ask around on how she could find any information but no one seemed to have any idea.

  ‘You could try the Red Cross,’ Sister Marshall suggested when she came across Maxine in tears one day in the nurses’ room. ‘They are the ones who send information to families when British soldiers are injured …’ she hesitated, ‘or dead. I think they’d be your best bet.’

  But she had no luck there either. Until a fortnight later when she received a letter from them. With a lump in her throat, she read:

  Dear Mrs Taylor,

  We are very sorry to inform you that your husband, Cpl. John L Taylor has been taken prisoner by the German Army at Dunkirk. He bravely volunteered to remain so he could attend to his wounded comrades. When there is more news we will, of course, let you know.

  Yours sincerely,

  Mary Jackson (Mrs)

  Welfare Officer

  Maxine swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump. She was right. He had been sent to Dunkirk. Dear Johnny. Whatever must he have felt, seeing the ships rescuing thousands of soldiers and he wasn’t one of them. But it seemed he’d made the decision, just as she expected he would. Maxine felt a sting behind her eyes. Yes, he was brave, and she could well imagine him doing just that.

  Another agonising fortnight passed with no more news. Maxine was in the ward helping a patient to walk to the toilet, grateful that she was a slight woman, though she still weighed heavily on her arm, when Sister Marshall came up to her, a look of concern in her eyes.

  ‘I’ll take Mrs Harvey, Nurse. There’s a telegram for you in Matron’s office.’

  She knew. Cold sweat beaded her forehead. She didn’t even have to open the telegram. She reprimanded herself. Until she heard otherwise she mustn’t crumple. Mustn’t think the worst. It might be him and he was writing to say he was safe. But she knew any form of contact from him would not be in the form of a telegram.

  With hammering heart she half ran down the corridor.

  ‘Nurse!’ A Sister she didn’t know held her hand in the air. ‘I must remind you – you may only run for fire or haemorrhage.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sister.’

  Her feet now feeling like lead, she knocked on Matron’s door.

  ‘Come in.’ Matron looked up. ‘Oh, yes, Nurse Taylor. Do sit down.’

  Maxine’s knees felt they would give way at any moment. Defeated, she sat and caught her breath.

  ‘A telegram has arrived for you.’ Matron handed her a blue envelope.

  With trembling hands Maxine took the telegram. Even before she saw the word ‘priority’ written on the envelope, she knew …

  ‘If you’d like to take a moment and read it quietly, I’ll leave you to it.’ Matron disappeared out of the door. ‘Call me if you need me. I won’t be far away.’

  Her fingers could barely work under the seal to open it. Heart pounding in her throat, she pulled out the sheet of paper with the printed message.

  From Lieutenant-Colonel J. A. Donaldson

  6th July 1940

  Dear Mrs Taylor,

  May I be permitted to express my sincere sympathy with the sad news concerning your husband Cpl. John L Taylor. I regret to say that we have been notified today via the Swiss Red Cross of his death from pneumonia.

  Your husband was an exemplary soldier and his loss is deeply regretted by us all.

  When we receive any of his effects they will be forwarded on to you.

  Once again please accept the deep sympathy of us all.

  Yours very sincerely,

  J. Anthony Donaldson

  The paper fluttered to the floor. Maxine couldn’t summon the energy to bend down and pick it up. A terrible shaking took hold of her body. She dropped her head in her hands, gasping to hold back the sobs. She mustn’t break down. She needed to look after her patients. They relied on her.

  She heard the door open and the solid figure of Matron step in.

  ‘Oh, my dear … it’s bad news, isn’t it?’

  Maxine nodded, speechless.

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was a whisper.

  ‘I’m sending you home right away. Take two days off.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t …’

  ‘We’ll manage, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ Matron put a hand on her shoulder.

  She looked up. Matron’s face was creased in sympathy.

  ‘Please let me go back to the ward, Matron.’ Maxine forced herself to speak calmly. ‘I’ll be better if I can work. I’ll have plenty of time to think about it when I’m off-duty.’

  ‘Very well.’ Matron became brisk. ‘But I insist you go to the canteen and have a strong cup of tea with sugar. You’re in shock, my dear, though you may not realise it. And if you are not feeling better tomorrow, please stay at home.’

  Somehow she got through the day, even forgetting for a few minutes at a time about the telegram and the terrible news. And then it would sweep over her in a sickening cloud. Johnny – her dearest friend since childhood. She would never see him again. Never look into his twinkling brown eyes. Never laugh at his feeble jokes.

  She delivered the last bedpan to an elderly lady who reminded her of her headmistress. A hard-faced woman with frizzy grey curls and bitter lines around her mouth, who was furious to be forced to use such an item for her private abluti
ons.

  Maxine pulled the curtains around the patient and tucked the bedpan under the cover. ‘There you are, Mrs Shepherd. I’ll be back shortly.’

  ‘See that you do, Nurse.’ Mrs Shepherd looked at Maxine with reproachful eyes, as though it were her fault. ‘I waited a full quarter of an hour this morning before someone came to take it away.’

  That evening, Maxine stepped into the hall and her mother came out immediately, her face red, all of a fluster.

  ‘My dear, was it bad news?’

  Maxine felt caught off guard. How did her mother know something had happened before she did?

  ‘The telegram boy brought it here and I told him you were at the Infirmary.’ She took her daughter’s coat and hung it on the rack. ‘It’s Johnny, isn’t it?’

  ‘Let me tell you and Dad together, Mum.’

  ‘I’d better make us all a cup of tea.’

  A brandy would be more like it, Maxine thought, but she simply nodded and her mother disappeared into the kitchen.

  She found her father in his chair in the sitting room reading his newspaper, glasses slipping down his nose, his favourite slippers with a hole in each toe encasing socks which she’d had to snip the tops off to make room for his poor swollen ankles. He rose up with difficulty and gave her a hug.

  ‘Your mother says a telegram came here for you, but she sent the boy to the hospital.’

  ‘It’s very bad news,’ Maxine began as her mother appeared with the tea tray. She felt the tears prick at the back of her eyes. She must keep calm. Must let them know she was being sensible and not acting impulsively. ‘Johnny’s dead.’ There was no other way to say it.

  Her mother’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I knew it … I just knew it. As soon as he’d been taken by those dreadful Germans. Didn’t I tell you, Stan?’

  Her father gave a long sigh. ‘Yes, you did, dear.’ He turned to his daughter. ‘And I’m very sorry to hear it, Maxine. He was a good lad and thought the world of you. Did they give you any details?’

  ‘Yes.’ Maxine’s voice was almost a whisper. ‘Pneumonia.’