Connie’s Courage (16 page)

Because of the shifts they were on, Mavis didn't get the opportunity to tell Connie about Harry's planned visit to the Infirmary, and so Connie walked totally unprepared into the large room where the nurses gathered in their off-duty hours, and came to a shocked halt as she saw Harry standing next to her friend.

‘Connie!' Mavis exclaimed in delight. ‘I was hoping I would catch you. Harry has come over so that he can inspect Frank!' she added drolly, pulling a face.

‘You were the one who suggested that I meet him,' Harry pointed out calmly, but inwardly he was feeling anything but calm. Grimly he wrestled with those feelings he knew it was unwise for him to have.

‘Connie, would you please look after Harry for me whilst I go across to the Infirmary and bring Frank back with me?' Mavis begged, unaware of the bombshell she was dropping.

Connie closed her eyes in despair, and then opened them again. She felt as though her tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth and that she was indeed tongue-tied just like some of their
afflicted patients. She certainly couldn't utter the refusal she needed to give, and Mavis was already darting away, her face alight with the expectation of seeing Frank.

He could have offered to go with his sister, Harry acknowledged belatedly, as she sped away.

He could almost feel the weight of Connie's silence, and he had seen the constrained, apprehensive look she had given him, before immediately looking away again. For a moment, they regarded one another in mutual silence, Connie's wary and watchful, and Harry thought he could guess what she must be thinking and fearing.

He had no taste for being in such an awkward situation, and couldn't help wishing that he had only met Connie for the first time when Mavis had brought her home. He had met her before though and, in all conscience, he knew he had a responsibility to his family to assure himself that Connie was a suitable person to be his sister's friend.

Taking a deep breath he plunged in, reluctantly, ‘Miss Pride, Connie. There is something … a matter, both delicate and … er, in short a matter to which we were both privy and which I feel … When I arrived at my great-aunt's house and saw you there. I realised immediately that, that is to say, I recognised you immediately.

Connie bit her lip, unable to say anything, her face burning with shame and misery.

Harry could see how white her face had gone,
and how her eyes had become burning pools of fear and pain.

‘Connie,' Harry urged her gently. He didn't want to frighten or hurt her, but he had a moral duty to put his sisters first.

‘You intend to … to denounce me, is that what you are saying?' Connie demanded tonelessly, her despair only too evident.

Watching her, Harry felt a fresh pang of pity for her, coupled with a desire to reassure her. He drew a deep sigh. ‘Denounce you! No, Connie. Please don't look so afraid! I have to think of my sisters,' he told her gently. ‘You must see that, with our father's death, I must take the role of a father. Mavis has a very high regard for you.'

‘Far higher than I deserve, you mean?' Connie challenged him bitterly.

He paused and took a deep breath. ‘It is not for me to sit in judgement on you, Connie.'

‘You say that, but others will do so if you tell them …' Her mouth had started to tremble so badly she had to break off, and force back her shaming tears. She would not further humiliate herself by pleading with him to spare her.

Even so, she couldn't stop herself from bursting out frantically, ‘Don't you think I have regretted, over and over again, my own stubborn foolishness? I refused to listen when I was warned of the disgrace that would fall upon me for allowing my heart to rule my head. Such things are permissible for a man, of course! He may walk away from a
situation such as mine with his character unstained! But a woman, no matter how respectably born, must lose everything!

Harry frowned, stirred reluctantly to the admission that it was brave of her to speak so to him, and he could not help but admire her for her courage.

‘The man …

‘He is dead,' Connie told him flatly. ‘He was on
Titanic.
We both should have been, but he left without me. Suddenly it was as though an old wound had opened up inside her, flooding her with sharp pain. ‘He promised that he would marry me on board before we started our new lives together in America, but he deserted me, and then his uncle …

Connie had no idea why she was telling Harry so much, or why she was exposing her own pain and shame. Abruptly, she swallowed. ‘Denounce me if you must, she began. ‘But …

Harry shook his head. ‘I shall not do that. I have no wish to cause you any more pain. What purpose would it serve? My concern is for my sisters.

‘Lest I corrupt them?' Connie challenged him bitterly.

‘I did not say that,' Harry told her quietly. ‘But, naturally, I do not wish either of them …

‘To be tainted by my disgrace?

‘I think we should consider the matter closed, and say no more about it, Harry told her gently.

Later, when she was on her own, Connie knew that she should be feeling much happier than she
was. After all, Harry had as good as said that he wasn't going to tell anyone. But his comment about the matter being closed had left a thorn of pain inside her that pricked sharply at her. For her, it could never be closed, she recognised miserably. For her, it would always be there. A stain on her character for ever!

Spring came and went, and they were into summer. Connie was spending more and more time working in the operating theatre and on the acute wards. Connie found it rewarding work, although she knew that some of the nurses found the operations too harrowing and preferred to do other work.

They scarcely saw anything of Vera any more, but, unexpectedly, she turned up at the Infirmary announcing that she had brought them invitations to her wedding.

‘Ooh, Vera, just look at that blouse you're wearing,' Josie squeaked round-eyed.

‘It's the latest fashion,' Vera told her, preening herself as she sketched the neckline of her blouse with her fingers.

‘Pneumonia blouses they're calling them in the papers,' Connie put in.

‘Pooh the papers, who wants to read those!' Vera sniffed disparagingly. ‘Bert says he'd ‘ave ‘em banned, if he were Lord Mayor.'

Connie and Mavis exchanged rueful looks.

‘It's to be a full, posh, wedding breakfast and
then there's to be dancing afterwards,' Vera told them, reverting to the subject which was of much more interest to her, before adding, ‘It's a pity you and Josie aren't walking out with anyone yet, Connie. There'll only be a few spare lads, and me cousins will be wantin' to dance with them. And what about you, Mavis? Vera probed archly. ‘I know you re walking out with that Frank, but has he declared himself yet and shown his intentions?

‘Frank and I are perfectly happy as we are, thank you, Vera, Mavis replied sedately, but as she told Connie later, she had felt more than a little put out by Vera's manner.

‘It's all very well for her to boast of her plans, Connie, her wedding, and the rooms Bert's parents have let them have over one of the shops, but things are different for me and Frank. Mavis gave a small sigh. ‘Frank has his mother to think of. She is not in the best of health, and widowed, and she is used to having Frank to herself.

Connie gave her a sympathetic look. Although Mavis was not the sort of girl who would say so, Connie had guessed from what she had not said, that Frank's mother was not the easiest person to get along with.

‘Vera is having a September wedding and, personally, I think June would be much nicer, Connie announced, trying to cheer Mavis up a little. ‘What we need, Mavis, is a jolly night out. Connie went on.

‘I've got to go back on duty. I promised one of the patients, a soldier who fought in the Boer War, that I'd read the
Echo
to him this afternoon, if I've got time. He can't see very well, and he wants to know what the Government have to say about the Germans.'

Connie's forehead creased, ‘Do you think there really will be a war, Mavis?'

Mavis looked worried. ‘Oh, Connie, I do hope not. Harry and Frank were talking about it only the other day. Harry wants to join up if there is, but with his weak chest, I don't think he would be accepted.'

‘Harry has a weak chest?' Connie demanded, unable to conceal her shock.

Mavis nodded her head and looked uncomfortable. ‘I shouldn't have said anything. Harry hates it being mentioned, but sometimes, when he is overtired, he struggles so hard to breathe that it can be frightening. He was dreadfully poorly when he was little. I do hope there won't be any fighting, Connie. There are soldiers from the Boer War on the non-acute wards.'

Both girls fell silent. The Infirmary being a poorhouse hospital was obliged to provide beds for non-acute patients, and many of them were occupied by the long-term sick of the parish, some of whom were old soldiers, whose injuries had left them bedridden and in pain.

‘Harry, my daughter has been asking me why you have not been round to have tea with us of late?

Harry's heart sank, as he avoided meeting Mr Cartwright's eyes.

The plain truth was that Rosa set his teeth on edge, and, even worse, bored him silly, but he could hardly say so to her doting father, especially since that father was his superior. And more than that, there was a boldness about Rosa's behaviour toward him at times, which made Harry feel acutely uncomfortable.

‘You must come round today. I insist on it.'

Summoning a smile, Harry thanked him.

Officially the school term had ended, but Harry, in common with some of the other junior masters, had had to remain on the premises to take charge of those pupils who did not return to their homes during the holiday period – boarders who, in the main, were orphans or whose parents were abroad.

His job involved long hours as it was, but Harry wouldn't have dreamed of complaining. He felt he had been fortunate to secure a post at such a prestigious school, and, after all, he had his mother and sisters to think of. And not just because his mother depended on him to pay Sophie's school fees. He knew how proud they all were of him, and what hopes they had for him. In many ways, those hopes rested on him winning the support and approval of his superiors, especially Mr Cartwright, who was his direct superior – and Rosa's father!

His thoughts began to stray, as they did rather too frequently for his own comfort, from Rosa to Connie. He must not think of Connie, he told himself fiercely. But he could not help himself.

‘And who are you then?'

Connie, her cheeks flushed from dancing, looked toward the young man who was addressing her.

‘Family of the bride, are yer?' he persisted, whilst his gaze roved boldly over Connie's face and bosom.

‘A friend actually,' she answered him. ‘You're one of the groom's lot, are you?'

‘Aye, he's me cousin. Fancy a dance wi'us?'

Connie gave him a haughty look. ‘We haven't been introduced,' she pointed out firmly, slipping easily back into her long-ago role of Miss Connie Pride, one of the Prides of Preston, and happy to be so!

Her companion burst out laughing. ‘Well, I'm Jack Baker …'

And a real flirt by the looks and manner of him, Connie reflected inwardly, as she gave him her own name.

Vera's wedding was everything she had expected it to be. Vera's dress was too fussy, and trimmed with far too much cheap lace, and too many flowers and ribbons, even if Vera herself thought she looked the bee's knees in it. Connie knew that her own mother would have immediately declared the
whole affair common and vulgar, but, despite that, Connie was enjoying herself.

She had been danced off her feet by a score of different partners, who, for all that Vera had said, had been far keener to dance with Connie and Josie than they had with the bride's cousins.

‘My, but it's hot, she complained, fanning herself with her hand.

‘It'll be cooler outside,' her companion suggested, nodding in the direction of the French windows that opened out into the small private back garden belonging to the hotel where the wedding breakfast had been held.

It was a light, late summer evening and Connie saw nothing wrong in stepping outside with Bert's cousin for a breath of fresh air, but no sooner had they stepped away from the French windows, than Jack grabbed hold of her and pressed his hot, wet mouth over her own as he tried to steal a kiss.

Angrily Connie tried to free herself, stamping down hard on his foot with the heel of her shoe when he refused to let her go. ‘'Ere what d'you do that for? he complained as he released her, but Connie refused to answer him, heading back to the hotel instead, her eyes burning with angry tears.

How could she have not realised what he had been intending? Just because they were at a respectable event like a wedding, that was no reason for her to think she could relax her normal guard! All
men were the same, she decided darkly. All out for one thing! Well, they weren't going to get it from her! She could just imagine what Harry Lawson would have thought if he had seen …

‘I can't believe it's nearly Christmas!'

Connie gave Mavis a weary smile as they met up in the dining room.

‘It has been a busy year, what with Vera's wedding, an' all. I don't know where the time goes,' Mavis added.

‘I can tell you where it goes,' Connie answered her, feelingly. ‘Most of it goes with us up and down these wards!'

Mavis laughed. ‘That's true,' she agreed. ‘Which reminds me. How is that young patient you were telling me about, Connie?'

Mr Clegg had performed a major operation on a young man who had fallen off the roof he had been re-tiling, earlier in the week, and it was touch and go whether or not he would survive.

‘The one as fell off the roof?'