Some Lucky Day (38 page)

Not that her task was over even then, she thought wearily, for all the rubbish had to be cleared away, the canteen and urn scrubbed clean, and the tin mugs washed out thoroughly. She eased from one foot to the other as she stood by the pram and collected the empty mugs, but she didn’t stop smiling, for these youngsters were facing far worse than sore feet, and she shouldn’t have been stupid enough to wear these silly shoes in the first place.

‘Hello, Stan,’ she said as the stationmaster appeared through the crush. ‘How’s things?’

‘They’re very good, Peggy,’ he replied with a beaming smile as he dug his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and rocked on his heels. ‘Ethel and Ruby are coming for tea on Sunday after they’ve been to visit Mike, and she’s promised to make me some of her rock buns.’

Peggy eyed the pot belly beneath that straining waistcoat. ‘It looks as if you’ve had quite a few of those already, Stan,’ she teased. ‘You want to watch it, or those buttons will go pop.’

He laughed and patted his stomach. ‘Ethel’s cooking is hard to resist,’ he confessed, ‘but she did say she likes a big strong man to whisk her about on the dance floor, and we’ve had no problems so far.’ He leaned in a bit closer and lowered his voice. ‘We’re off to the Lyceum tonight, and I’ve promised her a fish supper.’

Peggy laughed. ‘It’s good to know you’re happy, Stan. And that’s all that really matters these days, isn’t it?’

He nodded and his smile was rather smug.

‘How is young Mike getting on?’ she asked. ‘Ruby popped in the other day, but she didn’t seem too hopeful about his sight.’

Stan gave a deep sigh, his expression grave. ‘They don’t think he’ll get it back,’ he said. ‘Ruby’s at sixes and sevens about it, because she’s fallen hard for that young man, and if he’s discharged and sent home it could be months, even years, before they can be together again.’

‘Poor Ruby. She’s gone through enough without that.’

‘Don’t worry, Peg. I’ll keep a fatherly eye on her, never you mind.’

Before Peggy could ask any more questions, he pulled his watch and whistle from his waistcoat pockets. ‘I’d better get this lot on their way.’ He put the whistle to his lips and gave it a mighty, ear-splitting blast. ‘Train’s leaving in one minute,’ he shouted. ‘All aboard. All aboard.’

As the gathering slowly melted away, Peggy helped the other women to stow everything into the canteen, and then followed along behind with the pram as they trundled it down the hill towards the alleyway that ran alongside the Town Hall.

It was always a bit of a job, for the hill was steep, the mobile canteen was heavy and unwieldy, and the women weren’t blessed with a great deal of muscle power. But they got there in the end and wheeled it through the gate to the rear entrance of the Town Hall and parked it in the yard by the kitchen door. There were rumours they were going to receive one of the proper mobile canteens that could be driven everywhere, which the Queen had provided, and if the rumours were true, then it couldn’t come soon enough.

Peggy was helped up the steps with the pram by a young Home Guardsman who couldn’t have been much older than her Bob. The poor lad had been put on duty for most of the afternoon beside the sandbags that sheltered the Town Hall entrance. Thanking him, she parked the pram in the main hall and fetched him a cup of tea and a biscuit. It was a boring duty, and the boy looked half-starved and totally fed up.

Returning to the hall, she rolled up her sleeves to tackle the mammoth task of washing up, for there were not only the canteen mugs and plates to deal with, but all the ones that had been used that afternoon in the WVS café. Someone hadn’t been doing their job, she thought rather crossly, for the café stuff should have been cleared and washed the moment it was finished with.

Willing hands came to help with drying up, and there was quite a lot of muttering going on that Freda Lynley wasn’t pulling her weight – that she was a flighty piece and no better than she should be, going out with all those Americans, and that if she wasn’t prepared to do the work, then she shouldn’t have volunteered in the first place.

Peggy let it all go on around her. She just wanted to finish up here and sit down before she went home. Gossiping was all very well, and she usually enjoyed it, but it slowed them down, and there was still a mountain of things to wash.

She finally dried her hands and took off her apron. She was hot and sweaty after bending over a sink full of boiling water for almost an hour, and now she needed a cup of tea and a sit-down before she made the trek home. Pulling off her headscarf, she ran her fingers through her damp hair and didn’t much care that she must look a fright as she took her cup of tea to a nearby table and plumped down into a chair.

She eased off her shoes and wriggled her toes, wondering if she’d get the shoes back on when it was time to leave. Deciding she’d rather walk home barefoot than suffer the agony of those heels again, she relaxed and took a sip of tea. She was just about to light a well-earned fag when she saw her sister Doris making straight for her.

‘If you’ve come to moan about something then you’d better find someone else,’ she said as she drew on the cigarette and blew smoke. ‘I’m knackered.’

‘Margaret! Language like that is not ladylike.’

‘It’s a word I learned from Ruby,’ she replied. ‘And it describes exactly how I feel.’

She regarded her sister through the cigarette smoke as Doris brushed the chair with her handkerchief before sitting down rather prissily with her expensive leather handbag on her knees. Dressed in a cotton frock, big hat, white gloves and shoes, she looked as if she was going to a garden party, Peggy thought sourly. ‘So what do you want, Doris?’

‘You really shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Margaret,’ said Doris smoothly. ‘Perhaps I’ve merely come to see how you are and to have a chat.’

Peggy snorted smoke. ‘And pigs might fly,’ she retorted.

‘Really, Margaret, you have learned some disgusting habits from your ghastly lodgers. It’s frightfully common to swear and snort.’

Peggy was used to this sort of insult from Doris, so she drank her tea and waited. Doris had something to say, and sooner rather than later, she’d reveal her reason for seeking her out.

‘I understand you’ve taken in some girl from the Memorial,’ Doris said casually once she’d lit her own cigarette.

Peggy wondered where this was leading, but no doubt Doris would get to the point eventually. ‘That’s right,’ she murmured. ‘She’s been with me for almost two weeks now and is coming on a treat.’

‘How long do you expect her to remain with you?’ The tone was still casual, but there was a steely glint in her eye.

Peggy had noticed the glint, and knew it meant trouble. She shrugged. ‘She’ll stay with me until she can manage on her own, I suppose. We haven’t really talked about it.’

‘I see,’ said Doris. ‘So she could be with you for some months?’

Peggy now had an inkling of what this was about, but she wasn’t going to help her sister in any way by supplying too much information. ‘It takes a long time to get rehabilitated after losing a leg.’

Doris looked rather ill at ease as she shifted in her chair. ‘Susan and Anthony have very kindly asked me to organise their wedding reception,’ she began. ‘Anthony is such a thoughtful boy,’ she sighed. ‘He understood that I would want to be an intrinsic part of his special day. But of course I will need a list of the guests so I know how many to cater for.’

‘I’m sure Suzy will make up a list once she knows how many of her family will be able to get down here,’ said Peggy, stubbing out the cigarette.

Doris fidgeted with her gold lighter. ‘But I do have some concerns, you see.’ Her gaze slid to somewhere beyond Peggy’s shoulder.

‘Surely you won’t have any difficulty getting all the food, not with Ted being the district manager for the Home and Colonial?’

Doris waved this comment away. ‘It’s not about the food,’ she said impatiently. She pursed her lips, hesitated and then said in a rush, ‘It’s about that girl.’

‘What girl?’ asked Peggy with feigned innocence and the flat, quiet tone that should have warned Doris she was treading on very thin ice.

‘The cripple,’ she replied with a sniff – and then got into her stride, the words pouring out with her usual complete absence of tact or thought for anyone but herself. ‘My son’s wedding will be an elegant occasion,’ she said, patting her hair. ‘And with Susan’s parents being so well connected, I am expecting some extremely important guests. I don’t want that cripple putting a damper on things by turning up in trousers and clumping about on a wooden leg. So I wondered if you could have a word with Susan. I’m sure the girl wouldn’t mind if she didn’t receive an invitation. After all, she’s merely a transient lodger – and a foreigner at that, I believe – and definitely not one of the family.’

Peggy’s fury was incandescent as she pushed back from the table and shoved her feet back into her shoes. ‘She’s family while she lives in my house – and if you
dare
call her a cripple again, I’ll hit you so hard you won’t get up for a week.’

Doris must have noticed Peggy’s bunched fists, for she looked quite alarmed. ‘Well, really,’ she gasped. ‘I don’t think that sort of thing is called for at all.’

‘Neither is your attitude,’ Peggy snapped. ‘That girl lost her leg in the service of this country, and if Suzy wants her to attend the wedding then attend it she will. And you can just ruddy well lump it.’

With that, Peggy stormed off, leaving her sister open-mouthed and gasping like a trout out of water.

Kitty had worked hard during the day, stopping only for lunch in the canteen and a short gossip with some of the other girls. Her session in the gym had left her feeling energised instead of exhausted, so she had to assume her muscles were getting much stronger. Peggy’s good food helped, of course, but it was her own determination that had been the driving force.

She went into the physio room for her final session of the day, greeted the doctor and nurse, then eagerly strapped the leg on. Her progress along the parallel bars and back was slow but steady, and now she could do it just holding onto one bar.

‘That’s very good,’ said the doctor as he let her rest in a chair. ‘Now, when you’re ready, I’d like you to try to reach the door using just a couple of walking sticks.’

Kitty’s pulse was racing as she took the sticks from him. She had waited for this moment for what felt like months, and now she was about to discover whether all those hours in the gym had been worth it.

She shuffled forward in the chair, then, steadied by the sticks, pressed her feet to the floor and stood up. It felt strange without the crutches she’d become so used to, but oddly liberating. She took a step, and then another. Her stump was complaining a bit after all the work she’d put in today, but she chose to ignore it and took two more steps.

‘Well done,’ chorused the nurse and the doctor.

Kitty’s whole focus was concentrated on the door, and how many steps it might take to reach it. She took two more steps, and then another two. But the door was too far away and her stump felt as if it was rubbed raw. She stopped as hot tears blinded her and she had to accept she simply couldn’t go another inch.

She felt the wheelchair sliding behind her knees, and the nurse’s steadying grip on her arm as she sank down onto the seat. ‘I failed,’ she said bitterly. ‘I couldn’t do it – and it’s not that far, for goodness’ sake.’

‘It’s a mountain, actually, but one that you’ve almost conquered,’ said the doctor as he pulled a chair up beside her so they could converse eye to eye. ‘You haven’t failed – far from it. You’ve just achieved far more than most of my patients on their first trial run.’

This was music to her ears. ‘Really? Even Doreen?’

‘Even Doreen,’ he replied with a gentle smile. ‘Now, you rest while I take off this leg and have a look at your stump.’

Kitty’s emotions were a strange cocktail of elation and frustration. She’d so wanted to reach that door – but the knowledge that she’d gone further than Doreen at this stage gave her a tremendous boost.

‘The scar tissue is a little red,’ murmured the doctor. ‘And there is some bruising and swelling.’ He looked back at her. ‘I’ll give you some cream to rub in morning and night, but you won’t be using the prosthesis again until I can be certain there’s no infection setting in.’

She looked at him in horror. ‘But I can’t give up now. Not when I’m so nearly there.’

He signalled to the nurse to apply the thick white cream and rewrap her stump. ‘Infection is your enemy, Kitty,’ he said softly. ‘If you don’t rest that leg, you could be in serious trouble.’

Kitty tasted the copper of fear and had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could answer. ‘How serious?’ she whispered.

His expression was grave. ‘It could lead to more surgery.’

She stared at him as the words rang in her head and an icy chill ran down her spine. ‘You mean I could lose more of my leg?’

He nodded. ‘But we’re getting ahead of ourselves,’ he said more cheerfully as he handed her the tub of cream. ‘As long as you rest and let the redness and swelling go down, you should be as right as rain in a few days.’

He placed his hand over her fingers. ‘All it takes is patience,’ he reminded her.

Kitty knew she didn’t have a great supply of that particular grace, but with the threat of more surgery hanging over her like the sword of Damocles, it was time to learn patience and damned quick. ‘So, what happens now?’ she asked as she slipped the tub of cream into her trouser pocket.

‘I’ll arrange for you to be seen in my clinic at the Cliffehaven General each morning until I’m satisfied you’re ready to start again. But when you are,’ he added sternly, ‘you will take it slowly.’

Kitty nodded, fully prepared to do whatever he asked if it meant she could walk on that leg again and avoid surgery.

He crossed the room and picked up a heavy ledger. Running his finger down the columns, he made several notations as he turned the pages. ‘You won’t need a long appointment, because it’s more of a check-up really, so I’ve squeezed you in at eleven for the next seven days – and that includes this Sunday.’