Angel of the North (2 page)

There it was again, that distant drone coming ever louder and nearer, a third wave of fire and blast borne on German wings.

The hair rose on the back of Marie’s neck, and her suppressed tension escaped in a trill of near-hysterical laughter. ‘Nobody’s allowed to think these days, Nurse Harding.
There’s a war on! You just do as you’re told,’ she said. ‘But maybe it’s not just the blackout. The windows have blown out, and we’ll soon have water coming in
from the fire-hoses. Water and electricity, Nance? They don’t mix very well, now do they?’

‘Oh,’ Nancy said, with a shiver. ‘Anyhow, it doesn’t make our job any easier, does it? All these patients to move; all these beds to shift in the dark, with all this
bloody glass and rubble in the way. And the dust! It’s enough to choke you. I don’t see what there is to laugh at.’

‘We’re still alive. That’s what there is to laugh at,’ said Marie, working off her nervous energy by rushing the bed along as if they were in a race. ‘Isn’t
that right, Mr Pattison?’

The patient grunted, evidently not trusting himself to speak.

‘Not like Margaret, poor lass,’ Nancy went on. ‘It’s hard to believe it’s only two months since she died, and only twenty-five. It’s cruel, isn’t it?
Bloody Germans, I hate them all.’

They came to a halt outside the lifts, and Marie pressed the button, wondering for a moment whether they would be working. They were. The hospital governor might have cut the power to everything
else, but the lifts were vital, at least until they got all these patients to the lower floors.

‘I know,’ said Marie. ‘I miss her like hell. But I seem to have lived a lifetime since then. Have you seen her husband since the funeral?’

‘Only once, in one of the fire engines just as I was leaving the hospital. Funny, I never thought Margaret would be the first of us to be married. I thought you’d be first. You were
always leader of the pack.’

Marie gave a little shake of her head. ‘Well, she was a couple of years older than us, so she had a right to take precedence. And I’m glad she was first, the way it turned out.
I’m glad she had her six months of married bliss before she died. It’s not much to ask, is it? I’m not going to pip you to the altar either, by the look of it. Now you’re
engaged, you’re sure to be next.’

‘Maybe I will,’ Nancy said, and Marie knew that had her hands been free Nancy would have pulled the engagement ring out from its hiding place on the chain round her neck and she
would have had to admire it, yet again. Marie inwardly congratulated herself on the startling success of her one and only attempt at matchmaking. She and George Maltby had almost been brought up
together, their parents were such good friends. Contrary to all expectations, quiet, self-effacing George had done rather well for himself. He would make her best friend a good husband. Nancy would
be well provided for.

‘’Course you’ll be next!’ Marie said. ‘Chas needs a squib up his backside. I know he loves me, but he’s taking so long over popping the question, I’ll
probably die an old maid. I suspect his mother might have something to do with that. I don’t think she considers me top-drawer enough to be admitted into the Elsworth family.’

‘You’ll never be an old maid, and he’s a fool if he lets his mother stop him marrying you,’ Nancy said, as they steered the bed through the open lift doors.

‘You never know; families have a lot of influence,’ Marie said, smacking the button to take them down to the ground floor. ‘But I hope I shan’t be like Margaret: no
sooner in my wedding dress than in my shroud. Oh, poor lass! I got the shock of my life when that happened. It’s never been the same since, without her.’ She paused, remembering the
good times they’d shared with Margaret. ‘Do you remember how, when the three of us went dancing, she’d have half the hall watching her? And to watch her dance with Terry! What a
team they were, like Rogers and Astaire. I thought of going to see him after the funeral, but – you know . . .’

‘I know. For one thing you don’t know what to say; you’re scared he might start crying or something, and what can you do, anyway?’

‘He’s got loads of friends at Central Fire Station, thank goodness.’

‘I know. There’ll be plenty of shoulders for him to cry on. Thank goodness.’

Charles Elsworth’s mother pushed her spade into the soil, pulled herself up to her full five foot eight inches and fixed Marie with a severe stare. ‘His
name,’ she said, ‘is Charles.’

With her patrician features and her haughty manners, Mrs Elsworth was a doughty opponent. So, here was the challenge. Marie had seen little of the Elsworths in the eight months that she and
Charles had been going out together. But his parents knew after this time that marriage might be on the cards and Marie saw that the pecking order was being established, right here and now. There
had to be a winner and a loser and Marie did not intend to lose.

She pushed her garden fork into the ground and accepted the challenge. ‘Hear that, Chas? Your name’s Charles,’ she said, with a sneaking suspicion that he enjoyed being the
object of their rivalry.

‘Humph,’ he grunted, sweeping back a shock of wavy brown hair. His mouth, which almost always looked ready to break into a broad grin, was determinedly straight now, and his hazel
eyes fixed themselves on some point in the middle distance. He was doing his best to ignore both women, remaining neutral as far as he could, keeping himself out of trouble. Then he seemed to
rethink that strategy, and a second later pulled Marie close into him, lifting her off her feet, pressing his lips against hers in a smacking kiss. ‘I’ll be Chas if you like, or Sam, or
Bill, or Ebenezer,’ he laughed, drawing back, ‘if you’ll ask me back to Clumber Street for a nightcap.’

His mother frowned. ‘You’re not Chas. You weren’t christened Chas, and you never will be Chas.’

Marie grinned up at him, showing a row of perfect white teeth. He’d been Chas when they’d been in the same class in infant school, and Chas he would remain, as far as she was
concerned. But confident of her victory, she said no more.

Charles’s father looked up from his place outside the shed, where he was screwing together the last frame for the raised beds that now disfigured their large and once beautiful lawn and
deep flower borders. A slow smile spread over his face. ‘I think you’ve met your match there, Marjorie.’

‘Put her down, Charles,’ Mrs Elsworth snapped. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

Charles put Marie down.

‘Her mum and dad are out of the way at her aunt Clara’s, that’s why he’s dying to get round to their house,’ Charles’s 15-year-old brother piped up.
‘That means we won’t be seeing him until after breakfast.’

Mr Elsworth gave him a warning look. ‘That’s enough, Danny.’

Marie’s eyes widened. ‘Cheeky pup! It doesn’t mean anything of the sort.’

‘’Course it does,’ Danny persisted. ‘Mum found one of your hairclips in his bed when she stripped it after his last leave.’

Marie felt Mrs Elsworth’s eyes appraising her, watching her reaction, and a deep flush rose to her cheeks. ‘What?
My
hairclips? That’s not possible, you cheeky monkey!
You’d better watch out, or I’ll have you up for slander.’

Charles gave Danny a cuff round the ear. ‘You little liar. Mum found nothing of the sort. Now apologize.’

‘Ow, Charles! I’m not a liar, and I’m not apologizing.’

‘You are. And you will end up in court, if you carry on,’ Charles insisted.

Danny rubbed his ear. ‘Get lost! Anyway,’ he said, turning to Marie, ‘if I do, that’ll be two of us. Dad’s got a summons for driving without due care and attention.
He forgot to put the brake on when the car in front stopped.’

Charles gave him another clout.

‘Ouch!’

‘And you’re making your mouth go without due care and attention. Time you put a brake on that.’

‘Leave him alone, Charles.’ His mother’s voice was very quiet, but there was an edge to it that made Charles stop. He looked about to say something, then caught his
mother’s eye.

‘Stop squabbling and give me a hand to get this frame in place,’ Mr Elsworth said, putting an end to the dispute. ‘Then we can start filling it with topsoil. We should just
manage to get the kale planted and watered before it gets dark.’

Her hairgrips in Charles’s bed? That was just young Danny’s idea of a joke; he loved trying to embarrass her. But Mr Elsworth, driving without due care and attention? Marie
couldn’t believe it. His face was giving nothing away, and although she would have loved to know how that had come about, when he’d driven for years with not so much as a scratch, she
decided to change the subject to spare his feelings.

‘We planted some kale last year,’ she said. ‘We’re not bothering this year, though. None of us liked it.’

‘Don’t you want to know what happened?’ Danny insisted.

‘Get hold of the end of this, and make yourself useful for a change,’ his father said, ‘instead of telling tales. Let’s see if you can make up with brawn what you lack in
brains.’

They carried the frame to the end of the lawn and placed it a couple of feet beyond the last raised bed, leaving enough room to kneel in between them. Charles, his mother and Marie began filling
it with topsoil while Mr Elsworth went back to the shed to get the plants.

Danny stood watching them. ‘Don’t you want to know, then?’

Marie could see he was dying to tell her, but she gave him no encouragement.

None was needed. ‘We were driving up Beverley Road, and I spotted some looters pulling the board of one of the bombed shops loose, and pointed them out to Dad. They had a quick look round,
then one of them got inside and started passing stuff out to the other one. They hadn’t seen the copper walking along the side street towards them, and from where he was, he couldn’t
see them, either. We just knew what was coming when he got to the corner, like something out of a Charlie Chaplin film. We both started laughing, and that was when Dad smacked into the car in
front.’

‘Don’t say “copper”, Danny, it’s vulgar. Say “policeman”. And that’s when it stopped being funny for your father,’ Mrs Elsworth said, and
for Marie’s benefit added: ‘Leonard offered to repair the other man’s car, but he was very aggressive. Some people just won’t listen to reason.’

‘The biggest laugh was that the policeman saw the crash, and came running straight over to us; he didn’t even see the looters.’ Danny grinned. ‘But as soon as they saw
him, they beat it. And then he started chasing them, with the other driver yelling at him to come back and look at his car. Yeah, it was just like something off Charlie Chaplin.
Hilarious.’

Mr Elsworth was back with the plants. ‘I never liked Charlie Chaplin; too silly for words. Go and fill those watering cans, Danny, instead of standing yapping.’

‘Oh, Dad! I think I’m the only one in this house who’s got a sense of humour!’ Danny picked up the can and went, a look of disgust on his face.

‘Clown! He’s got more chatter than a cage full of monkeys,’ Mr Elsworth said, carefully lowering himself to the ground to begin the planting.

Charles hunkered down on the opposite side of the bed. ‘Empty vessels make most noise. You let him get away with far too much, and you’re wasting your money, sending him to
Hymers.’

Mrs Elsworth kneeled beside her husband. ‘You went to Hymers. It got you into university, and we can’t do less for Danny. We let you both get away with far too much. And I
don’t regret it, either, now. If the war lasts much longer he’ll be called up, and then who knows what might happen to him? They were sending 16-year-olds to the front line in the last
one.’

‘He’ll never get into university; he’s too fond of playing the fool. The Forces would do him good. Make a man of him. He gets away with murder at home.’

Marie quietly took her place beside Charles and worked quickly, pushing the plants in.

Mr Elsworth began to cough, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. ‘You should have stayed out of it, never mind trying to get Danny in. You should have taken that job in
Kemp’s solicitors, and worked for your articles. I’ve never been right since the last lot. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘How could I stay out of it? Everybody at university was joining up. Anyway, I didn’t want to stay out of it.’

Mr Elsworth raised his eyebrows, and gave a snort of contempt. ‘You fool! You think you’re going into some sort of adventure straight out of the
Boy’s Own Paper.
That’s the young, you can’t tell them anything. But you’ll know what war’s all about before you’ve finished. I only hope you’ll live long enough to profit by
it.’

He pushed his handkerchief back into his trouser pocket, and they worked on in silence. The kale was in the ground before Danny came back with the watering cans.

When they’d finished, Marie turned to survey the garden. ‘Potatoes, onions, runner beans, beetroot, cabbage, carrots. A good bit of stuff in there. Not a bad day’s
work.’

‘My lovely lawn and my beautiful borders,’ Mrs Elsworth lamented. ‘Ruined.’

‘We kept them as long as we could, but you can’t eat grass or flowers, Marjorie. This will be more use, especially at the rate we’re losing shipping. The civilian death
toll’s nowhere near our shipping losses, in my opinion. If it goes on at this rate, we’ll have neither ships nor men to bring any food in.’

‘That’s defeatist talk, Dad,’ said Charles.

‘It’s facts. How many times do you hear of ships and men who’ll never come home again, and read nothing of it in the papers? So, we’ll grow our own, and rely on ourselves
as much as we can, and then we’ll have a bit of a chance if some of those convoys don’t get through. That’s not defeatist, is it? We might even get a pig.’

‘We might not!’ Mrs Elsworth protested. ‘I’ve let you ruin my flower garden, but I draw the line at pigs.’

‘You’ll get your share, as well, Marie, for all the help you’ve given us,’ Mr Elsworth said, ignoring the protest.

‘I didn’t do it for that. We’ve got plenty growing on Dad’s allotment. Everything – veg, apples and pears, rhubarb, soft fruits, the lot. We hardly ever have to buy
vegetables, or fruit.’