Chapter 7 Elsie
Elsie
The next week was one of the worst we’d had so far.
There were raids every night. Terrible, awful raids leaving people burned and crushed and dead.
Nelly and I, and all the nurses on our wards, worked long shifts, and even slept at the hospital a few nights because we couldn’t leave in case we were needed.
Nelly and I resigned ourselves to not going to the dance, because things were so bad we couldn’t possibly take our days off.
‘There will be other dances,’ I said, hoping I was right. In these dark times, it was hard to remember what it felt like to have fun.
But finally on the fifth night, there was a respite. There was a raid but there were fewer planes and they came in up the river, so while we knew we would get casualties from the East End later in the night, for now things were calmer.
‘Maybe even the Luftwaffe need a night off,’ Matron said, looking serious despite her tin hat.
‘Could I pop over to the huts if things are under control?’ I asked. ‘The airmen asked Nelly and me to write messages to their families for them and we’ve just not had a chance. I wanted to let them know we’d not forgotten.’
I thought Matron would say no, but she nodded. ‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘Five minutes.’
The ward was quiet and dark when I arrived and the men were sleepy humps huddled under blankets. I rubbed my forehead feeling silly – day and night were all muddled in my head now because we’d been working such odd hours. I’d not expected them all to be asleep.
I tiptoed to the nurses’ station and found one of the Red Cross nurses there, filling in a medication chart.
‘I was here the other day,’ I whispered, not wanting to disturb the slumbering men. She looked up at me and nodded in recognition.
‘We were talking about writing messages for the men?’ I said.
‘That was such a kind offer.’ She smiled at me. ‘They’ve been talking about it a lot.’ She glanced round to see if anyone was listening. ‘It’s been hard for them, these last few nights. A lot of them struggled when the bombs were falling nearby.’
‘Gosh, I can imagine,’ I said. ‘We have patients the same. People who have been injured by bombs and then have to listen to the raids, feeling the beds shake as the bombs fall. It’s so hard for them.’
The nurse nodded. ‘They’re good lads,’ she said fondly.
I bit my lip thoughtfully. ‘We’ll definitely come back and write their letters for them,’ I said. ‘Nelly and I work the same shifts and we’ve got a couple of days off coming up. We’ll come back then.’
‘I think they’d like that.’
‘Could you let them know? I don’t want them to think we’ve forgotten them.’
‘Of course.’
I turned to go and noticed one of the men was awake, sitting up in his bed watching us talking. It was the chap who had both arms in plaster and who’d told us his uncle had been killed in the last war. He smiled at me and I smiled back and felt a little tug of connection between us.
*
The smiling airman stayed in my thoughts the next day as Nelly and I got ready for the dance.
‘Dr Barnet said he’d be there around eight o’clock,’ she said, adjusting one of the grips in her hair as she stood in the doorway of my room.
She looked beautiful, as always. Her dark hair was shining and there was mischief sparkling in her eyes.
She was wearing a dark red dress that had once been mine, but suited Nelly perfectly.
‘You look lovely,’ I said with fondness. ‘I never looked that good in that dress.’
Nelly gave me a twirl. ‘You look lovely too,’ she said.
I was wearing a blouse with a skirt that swirled round my legs.
It had once been two skirts but I’d unpicked the seams and stitched them together, making them billow in a most satisfactory way when I danced.
I was rather pleased with myself because I wasn’t very handy with a needle – at least, I’d not been before the war began. Now we were all being thriftier.
‘I thought if we go to the pub soon, we could have a couple of drinks first before we go downstairs.’
‘How many drinks are you planning to have?’ I said, frowning at my reflection in the mirror in my bedroom. ‘Why does my hair never go right when I want it to?’
Nelly came over to me and stood behind me as I sat at the dressing table. She twirled a lock of my hair round her finger and pinned it firmly into place.
‘There,’ she said, looking at me in the mirror over my shoulder. ‘Perfect.’
I put my hand up and touched hers where it rested on my arm. ‘Ready to have some fun?’
‘I can’t wait,’ Nelly said with a little bubble of laughter. ‘It’s been so long.’
With a sudden flurry of excitement, we both gave our reflections one last approving glance, then we whirled round the flat, finding our bags and coats and scarves.
It had been ages since we’d been out dancing.
When the bombs started dropping everything stopped for a while.
People were nervous about being out late, and at first we thought it would just be a couple of nights of raids.
But it had been almost three months now of bombings and sirens and there seemed to be an urgency among people to get on with living their lives.
I understood that. When you were surrounded by death and destruction every day it seemed important to make the most of the time you had.
The Pig and Whistle was a large pub on the corner of two roads. I’d been in there with Billy before he went off to fight and as we approached it, I felt my steps slowing.
Nelly, who had her arm looped through mine, realised I was drawing back.
‘Thinking about your Billy?’ she asked astutely.
‘A bit,’ I muttered.
‘He loved a dance,’ she said, which wasn’t exactly true, but Billy had liked being with friends, having a drink, and chatting. ‘We need to make sure we have some extra fun for him tonight.’
‘We do.’
Hand in hand, heels clattering on the pavement, we danced across the road – the light from our torch bouncing – and into the pub.
Going from the dark and cold evening, into the cosy, warm Pig and Whistle made me feel like Alice arriving in Wonderland.
The pub was full of people our age and there was a real buzz of laughter and chatter in the air. I could hear the music playing downstairs in the cellar.
‘There’s a band,’ I said in delight. ‘A real band.’
Nelly grabbed my hand.
‘Come on, let’s get a drink before it gets too busy,’ she said, pulling me towards the bar.
But I’d seen the back of Jackson’s head. He was sitting at a table with an older man. I didn’t think they were together, partly because they weren’t talking and the older man was reading the newspaper, and partly because I never saw Jackson with anyone.
‘Jackson,’ I said in Nelly’s ear. She looked in the direction I nodded and made a face. ‘Let’s go round this way,’ I said, tugging her to the other side of the bar. ‘I don’t want to talk to him tonight.’
We ducked round a group of men in Army uniform and I hoped Jackson hadn’t seen us.
*
The dance was wonderful. We had so much fun.
The cellar of the pub was enormous, with curved stone arches so there was plenty of space to dance.
The landlord had put chairs and tables round the edge and even made a little stage out of wooden pallets.
I thought he’d been very creative. The war was forcing people to adapt in ways they’d never have thought possible.
And there was a real band. Well, there was a pianist, and a drummer, and a woman singing who Nelly and I both agreed was simply marvellous.
‘How did they get the piano down here?’ I wondered aloud as we queued up for a drink. A man in the queue ahead of me turned and gave me a dazzling smile. ‘They lowered it down on ropes, through the hatch where they drop the beer barrels.’
‘How inventive.’ I sighed.
‘Fancy a dance later?’ the man – who I recognised vaguely as one of the doctors from the hospital – asked.
‘Why not?’ I said and giggled as he blew me a kiss.
Nelly and I danced together at first, enjoying the music and the sheer thrill of not being at work.
Then Dr Barnet showed up and was actually much nicer off duty than he was on the ward.
He was very handsome and clearly besotted with Nelly, and I found myself warming to him.
He had lots of friends with him, who were all eager to dance so I found myself being whirled around the dance floor by a succession of chaps, which was enormous fun if a little exhausting.
We drank some gin and the men had beer, and I saw a few friends from nursing training that I’d not seen for ages, and I was glad the music was too loud to talk properly because it meant no one would ask about Billy, so I didn’t have to worry. All in all it was a lovely evening.
As the crowds in the basement began to thin out, the band struck up a slower song.
Around me, couples found each other in the dim light and started to sway along with the rhythm.
Feeling a little like a spare part suddenly, I sat down at the side of the dance floor.
My feet were aching and I didn’t really want to dance anymore.
It was odd that despite all the men I’d spent time with this evening, the person I kept thinking about was the airman with the two broken arms and the sweet smile.
‘Sitting this one out?’ Nelly appeared next to me, with her face flushed and her eyes sparkling.
‘I’m beat, and my shoes are rubbing,’ I said, sticking one foot out in front of me. ‘I honestly don’t think I can dance another step.’
I smiled at her. ‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it?’
Nelly sat down next to me and clutched my arm in excitement. ‘Percy has asked me to go on somewhere with him and his friends.’
‘Who’s Percy?’
She nudged me. ‘Dr Barnet,’ she said, shaking her head at me. ‘Percy.’
‘Percy?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s not as romantic a name as I was expecting. I thought he’d be called something like Humphrey.’
Nelly giggled. ‘Humphrey?’
I laughed too. ‘Errol?’
‘Ah shush,’ Nelly said. ‘I like Percy.’
I looked over to where Dr Barnet was leaning against the wall of the cellar, gazing at Nelly with admiration. ‘And he definitely likes you too.’
‘Are you coming with us? Percy said he knows somewhere there’s jazz and cocktails.’
‘Really?’ Our part of South London wasn’t known for its fancy night spots.
‘That’s what he says.’ Nelly stood up. ‘Coming?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m whacked, Nell. I think I’ll just go home.’
‘Want us to walk you back?’
‘Nah, you go on. Have fun, be careful and go to a shelter if the siren goes.’
‘Yes, Mammy,’ she said. She bent down and kissed my cheek. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you, too.’
She dashed off and I found my coat and scarf draped over the back of a chair, and then – walking rather awkwardly on my sore feet – went up the stone steps from the pub cellar.
As I reached the top, with a little lurch of annoyance, I remembered Jackson had been there so I scanned the room for him and there he was, standing by the door of the pub looking for all the world as though he was waiting for someone.
Was he waiting for me? I wondered with a shudder.
Not wanting him to walk me home, but not sure how I’d get out of it if he spotted me, I darted round the bar and out of the side door of the pub.
I’d walk the long way home. Go round the block and arrive from the opposite direction.
My feet may have hurt, but the thought of walking further on my uncomfortable shoes was still preferable to Jackson taking my arm and making his odd comments.
I hurried down the street, flicking on my torch because it was so dark and for the first time, taking comfort in the blackout, which meant Jackson wouldn’t be able to see me if he came out of the pub now.
It was freezing, the wind sharp on my cheeks, and I pulled my scarf up to cover my chin as I hurried along.
I crossed the road, and turned right down the street opposite where there was another pub – a smaller, less well-heeled place than the Pig and Whistle.
As I approached, hunched down against the cold, the door to the pub opened, spilling light on to the pavement, and out came a woman with a hat pulled down over her ears.
She stood still for a moment, silhouetted in the light from the door, then unsteadily she began walking in the same direction as I was going, vanishing into the darkness as the door shut again.
But she looked familiar. Something about the way she held her head, even if she did look as though she’d had one too many.
And I’d heard stories about lone women coming a cropper during the blackout.
So I quickened my pace on my blistered feet and, knowing I was risking a telling-off if an ARP warden was around, I lifted the beam from my torch to see if I could spot the woman.
She was standing on the corner, looking this way and that, clearly not sure where she was.
As the beam of my torch hit her she raised her arms to stop the light dazzling her and I realised it was Mrs Gold, our neighbour.
‘Oh,’ I said in surprise, because she was standing very straight and upright, waiting to check for traffic before she crossed the road. She didn’t look remotely unsteady now. ‘Mrs Gold,’ I said, lowering my torch beam so she could see. ‘It’s me, Elsie.’
‘Elsie.’
I hurried over to where she stood. ‘I thought you were the worse for wear,’ I said. ‘You looked a bit wobbly.’
She grinned at me. ‘Not at all, darling,’ she said, looping her arm through mine. I wondered if she’d been pretending to be tipsy and if so, why. But I didn’t want to ask because I had a feeling she wouldn’t tell me.
*
We walked home through the night, arm in arm and I filled her in on the dance and Nelly and Percy.
Just as we reached the front door, the siren began to wail.
‘What good timing,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Is Mr Gold here?’
She shook her head. ‘No. He was called away.’ She looked a little fed up as she said it and I felt sorry for her. ‘We should go to the shelter.’
‘I need to take my shoes off.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Quickly.’
I pulled off my painful shoes and hurried upstairs in my stockinged feet, where I put on my wellington boots because they were easy, and headed back down. Mrs Gold was waiting obediently by the back door, looking worried.
‘Sounds like it could be another bad one,’ she said.
I shrugged as we made our way outside and into the safety of the shelter. They were all bad, I thought. We were just getting used to it. I wondered where Nelly was and if she was safe. I hoped Dr Barnet would look after her.
Mrs Gold settled down, and feeling the effects of the gin I’d drunk earlier, I got myself as comfortable as I could on the hard bunk.
I went straight to sleep and when I woke up the next morning, Mrs Gold wasn’t in the shelter anymore.
She must have gone to work early. I got dressed, wondering for the millionth time exactly what it was my neighbour did.