An Orphan’s War. Molly Green
herself that it was just an impulsive gesture on his part and he wouldn’t be repeating it, when Bennett came to find her as she was washing a few cups whilst waiting for the kettle to boil on the Primus stove for their afternoon tea. The patients had had theirs and Maxine was looking forward to snatching five minutes with her feet up and a couple of Digestive biscuits.
‘For you.’ Bennett handed her an envelope.
‘Me?’ Maxine pointed to herself.
‘Yes, love. It’s got your name on, if I’m not mistaken – Nurse Taylor. Private and Confidential, so it says.’
Maxine took the envelope and shoved it in her apron pocket, ignoring the curiosity on Bennett’s face.
‘I’ll read it later – in private, as it states,’ she said with a grin.
‘Fair enough, but you have to share it with us if it’s something exciting.’ She gave Maxine a sly look from under her lashes. ‘I have a feeling I know who it’s from anyway.’ She winked and scurried out of the kitchen door, pulling it behind her.
There was no possibility of reading the letter now. She’d be in trouble if she didn’t get back on the ward right away.
Immediately she forgot about Edwin as George Morton grabbed her attention. During the blackout he’d been knocked off his bicycle by a motorist and suffered internal injuries and a broken arm. Waving his good arm in fury, he cursed Hitler for causing the accident, which, Maxine supposed, indirectly Mr Hitler had.
The only bright spot was that today was payday. She joined the queue outside Matron’s office to collect her wages – ten shillings more than she’d received at the Infirmary. ‘London rating,’ Anna had explained, her nose wrinkling that it wasn’t nearly enough compensation. She could see her friend’s expression now. How she missed her.
‘I didn’t break the bleedin’ thermometer,’ a young girl’s voice came from behind her in the queue. ‘Mr Gibson is a bit funny in the head, I reckon, and he snatched it from me before I could even see his temperature. And to cap it all, Sister said she’d deduct it from my measly four pounds.’
‘Did you tell her what happened?’ another girl asked.
‘No point.’
Maxine wished she could block out their conversation and just collect her envelope and go. She was longing to read her letter, which was beginning to burn a hole in her pocket.
It was several hours later before Maxine fell onto her bed, exhausted. She took the envelope out of her pocket and tore it open. There was a single sheet of paper inside and when she unfolded it, there was his writing – not the usual scrawl of a doctor or surgeon, but beautiful italic writing that looked as if it had popped out of one of the history books.
Dear Girl,
I hope the wine didn’t have any ill effects on you last night and that you had a decent sleep. I didn’t. And it wasn’t just the bombs keeping me awake. I kept thinking of your lovely face and how I couldn’t wait to see it again, but it’s my day off today and I have some errands to do.
When do you have some time off in the day? It would be nice to walk in the park, and maybe go to a matinée or something. I’ll be back on the wards tomorrow so you can tell me then – discreetly, of course, but I know you always will be.
Until tomorrow, then.
Yours,
E
Maxine frowned and read it through a second time. What did he mean by calling her ‘Girl’, and signing off ‘E’? Was that his way of being discreet? It sounded so impersonal. And yet the sentiment was there, staring her in the face. He wanted to see her again. He thought she was lovely. He was just very different from Johnny – that was all.
With a flutter of anticipation, she folded the letter and slipped it into its envelope and back into her pocket.
Edwin arrived on her ward the next morning and didn’t show by even a flicker of an eyelash that he had a personal interest in her. She played along with it to perfection. But when they had less than a minute alone as he was frowning at one of the patient’s medical sheets, and the two other nurses and Sister were at the other end of the ward, Edwin muttered, ‘So when are you free, Nurse?’
‘The day after tomorrow,’ she answered, pretending to tuck in a corner of Sidney Johnson’s bed. ‘I’m off in the afternoon. From two o’clock.’
‘Good. That will be all, Nurse.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Meet you at the same place at half-past two. Be prepared for anything.’
‘Thank you, Mr Blake.’ She wanted to giggle. He was such a respectable man, and there he was, making a date with her right under Sister’s nose.
They did as his note suggested and meandered through Archbishop’s Park. Even though it was right on the doorstep of St Thomas’, Maxine had had little chance to enjoy it, except for an occasional sandwich at lunchtime with Anna.
‘I wanted to take you to see a play, but I’m afraid they’ve already started. Half past two is pretty much the time for most of the matinées.’
‘It doesn’t matter at all,’ Maxine said, taking his proffered arm. ‘We’re inside a stuffy building for too many hours, so it’s wonderful to be out in the air. Most of the flowers are coming to the end, but I can still smell the last of the roses.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘Mmm … lovely. And just walking amongst the trees. We’re so lucky in London to have so many parks.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘Only the barrage balloons remind us there’s a war on.’
He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. ‘If there wasn’t any war, would you be happy right this minute?’
‘I’m enjoying this,’ she said, seriously. ‘But I’m not sure what being happy feels like anymore.’
He tucked her arm in his a little tighter. ‘You’re not on duty this evening, are you?’
‘No. No, I’m not.’ Why did she feel uncomfortable all of a sudden? Was it that he seemed to know her schedule despite her only finding out about the alteration herself that morning?
‘Because we can go and see a film if you like. Or a play. I haven’t booked anything because I wasn’t sure. We could get a bite to eat first, or afterwards – whichever you prefer. What would you really like to do?’
‘I’d love to see The Dancing Years,’ Maxine said tentatively.
‘That’s Ivor Novello.’
‘Yes. I heard a programme about it on the wireless and made a note of it. It’s on at the Windmill Theatre.’
‘You can’t go wrong with Novello.’ He patted her arm. ‘Look, why don’t we have some refreshment and then see if we can book tickets.’
‘Weren’t we lucky to get such good seats?’ Maxine said as they found their row just as the orchestra started up.
Edwin smiled and took her hand. She was conscious of his warm fingers linking with hers, stopping her from completely losing herself in the romance of the musical. She tried. How she tried to concentrate, but it was impossible. She wanted him to kiss her again. Hold her. She didn’t dare look at him in case he guessed her thoughts. Think her fast. She stared ahead, hardly blinking, hoping he wasn’t aware of her turmoil.
He began to caress her fingers, one by one. A shiver ran through her body. She tried to think of Johnny. Keep loyal to him. But his face faded in and out of her vision and it couldn’t take the place of this living, breathing man next to her, so close their shoulders were touching.
Her breathing became rapid and she forced herself to draw in a long, deep breath through her nose to steady her pulse. He must have heard the intake as he shot her a look as though to ask her a question.