Under the Apple Tree (17 page)

Gladys coming? He’s got to go to hospital!’

‘She’s here.’ Polly came in swiftly, followed by Gladys

Shaw. ”Come on, Dick — let’s get you out to the ambulance.’

She helped Judy and Cissie lift him to his feet.

Dick, still wrenched with coughing, was trying frantically

to breathe. He leaned on the table, his face almost blue.

‘Hot,’ he gasped. ‘Too hot.’ He tried to throw off the

blankets, but Cissie firmly wrapped them round him again.

‘You’ve got a temperature,’ she said anxiously. ‘If you

take all those off you’ll catch a chill. Come on, now, let’s get you outside.’

‘Keep him wrapped up,’ Polly said, ‘it’s bitter out here.’

They half carried him along the passage to the front door

and lifted him into the van. ‘That’s it, Dick. You’ll be all right now. Shall I come with you, Cis?’

‘No, you stop here, you need your rest.’ But it was clear

that Cissie needed company. Polly and Judy glanced at each

other, and Judy said quickly, ‘I’ll go, you’ve been up all

night and you were travelling all day yesterday. Look, I’ll

get to work as soon as I can, but you can explain if I’m late.

I can’t leave Mum by herself.’

‘No, she’s got to have one of us.’ Polly chewed her lips.

Gladys had started the engine and was in the driver’s seat

now, impatient to be off, and Polly leaned in through the

window. ‘I just hope to God they’ll take him in at the

hospital. They must be crowded out with casualties as it is.

Knock on the door when you get back, Gladys, would you?

And thanks for turning out again.’

Gladys nodded and Judy jumped up beside her. Cissie

was already in the back, kneeling beside the makeshift bed.

The van jolted off down the road and Polly and her mother went back indoors.

‘I dunno,’ Alice said, sitting down and picking up the cup

of tea she’d poured before Gladys had arrived. ‘It’s just one

thing after another. I’ve never seen Dick as bad as that,

never. This tea’s gone cold.’

‘I’ll make you some more,’ Polly said. ‘It’s all these nights

down the shelter. It’s so cold and damp, it’s bound to set

him off. And then the worry of it all. He’s never got over

what happened to him in the Great War, you know. It

brings it all back, hearing the planes go over and bombs

falling. It was a bad raid tonight, too — as bad as that big one in January, I wouldn’t wonder.’

Alice nodded. ‘Don’t trouble about the tea, Poll. I can’t

be bothered. I just want to go to bed, though whether I’ll be

able to sleep is another matter.’

She went into the front room. They’d got a bed-settee in

there now, bought with the money Cissie and Dick had been

given for being bombed out. It was more comfortable than

the old sofa and could be folded away during the day. Polly

heard it creak a bit as Alice got into it, and then silence.

She sat gazing at the ashes in the grate, her coat pulled

round her shoulders for warmth, thinking over the long day.

It seemed a lifetime since she’d collected young Stella and

Muriel from Jess Budd and taken them on the train. Then

there’d been the surly porter and the walk to the vicarage

through the snowy lanes, and the warm welcome given them

by Mrs Mudge and the vicar. That rabbit stew had been the

best Polly had tasted for a long time - and not a ‘ration’ in

it, she thought, smiling. And then there’d been the sudden

decision to go on to Romsey to see Sylvie, the pleasant man

on the train, and the joy of seeing her daughter again, even

though it meant the pain of parting only an hour later.

‘I wish you could come out and stay here too,’ Sylvie had

whispered, burying her face against Polly’s coat. ‘I miss you

ever so much.’

in

‘I miss you too,’ Polly had said, brushing away the tears

before they fell on to Sylvie’s blonde curls. ‘But I’ve got

work to do in Portsmouth, and it’s safer for you to be out

here. And you’re having a nice time, aren’t you? Mr and

Mrs Sutton are looking after you well, and you’ve got Jenny

and Brian to play with.’

‘They’re all right,’ Sylvie said dismissively, for all the

world as if she hadn’t been engrossed in a game of Ludo

with them when Polly had arrived. ‘But I’d rather be home

with you.’

‘Well, I expect all the children feel like that. And let’s

hope it won’t be long before you can come back.’ Gently,

Polly unwound the child’s fingers from her coat. ‘Now, give

me a big kiss and say you’ll be a good girl for Mummy, and

I’ll come back and see you as soon as I possibly can. And tell

Mrs Sutton I’ll write again soon.’

Sylvie nodded and sniffed hard. A large tear rolled out of

her eye and down her cheek. Polly bit her lips fiercely,

hugged her and then turned away. She closed the kitchen

door behind her and walked swiftly down the garden path.

It must be the hardest thing anyone has to do in this war,

she thought, feeling the ache of tears in her throat again as

she stared at the cold ashes. Saying goodbye to your

children. It must be just as bad when they’re grown up too,

and going off to fight like Terry, serving on one of Britain’s

biggest battle cruisers, and Annie Chapman’s boy Colin.

Just as bad as saying goodbye to your husband, not knowing

whether you’ll ever see him again. And knowing, when that

telegram comes, that you’ve said goodbye for the last time

ever.

The sorrow of it all - of leaving her little girl with

strangers, however kind, of losing her husband at sea, of

knowing that this anguish was multiplied a thousand times

up and down the country, and now, on top of it all, the

worry over Dick — surged over her like a tidal wave and,

worn out by her day and by a hopeless, overwhelming

misery, Polly put down her head and wept.

‘It’s pneumonia,’ Cissie said later to Freda Vickers, who had

called to ask how Dick was. ‘Well, what can you expect,

with his lungs being so bad anyway. They were ever so kind

- stretchers and injured people everywhere, but they still

took him in straight away and put him in an oxygen tent.

Wouldn’t let me and Judy stop, of course. Said I could go in

and see him at visiting time - that’s three this afternoon.’

She blinked away tears. ‘I don’t know as they can do much

for him, though. I mean, there’s not much you can do for

pneumonia, is there? Only keep him warm and look after

him till the crisis happens, and even then it can go either way.’

‘I think they can drain the fluid off from his lungs, can’t

they?’ Freda said doubtfully. ‘Stop it building up, like. And

if he’s on oxygen, that’ll help the breathing. Anyway, he’s in

the best place, Cis. At least he won’t have to spend any more

nights in a hole in the ground for a while.’

Cissie sighed. ‘That’s true, but I shall worry all the time,

not knowing what’s happening to him. I hope we don’t get

any raids while he’s in there.’ She turned as they heard the

tapping of high heels coming along the pavement behind

them, and nodded at the woman in a powder-blue suit and

feathery hat. ‘Morning, Mrs Glaister.’

Ethel Glaister gave them both a cool look. ‘Good

morning,’ she said in her rather sharp voice. ‘I’m surprised

you’ve got time to stand gossiping after a night like last

night. I’m going up to the butcher’s shop - he had some

fresh stewing steak brought in yesterday, I’ve heard, and I

mean to get some.’

‘Mum’s gone up there already,’ Cissie said. ‘And Mrs

Vickers just called to enquire after my hubby. He was taken

into hospital with pneumonia this morning.’

‘Oh.’ Ethel Glaister looked slightly taken aback. ‘Well, I

hope he’ll soon be better. Of course, he doesn’t work, does

he?’ She stepped past them, leaving the two women openmouthed.

‘Well!’ Cissie said at last. ‘And just what do you suppose

she meant by that? That he’s some sort of parasite? No loss

if he doesn’t get better? I’ve a good mind to go after her and

give her a piece of my mind!’

‘She’s not worth it,’ Freda said, although she looked

equally indignant. ‘And I don’t suppose she meant anything

by it, not really. She’s just got to say something and she

can’t help saying it in a nasty way. That’s Ethel Glaister all

over.’

‘Well, you won’t catch me giving her the time of day

again,’ Cissie said, turning away. ‘Anyway, I’m going in now, thought I might have a bit of a lay-down. If I’m going to see Dick this afternoon I want to look a bit brighter for him.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror just now and I look

like death warmed up.’

She went indoors and stood for a moment looking around

the room where she had grown up. It still felt funny to be

back, with so many of the neighbours she had known as a

child. Ethel Glaister, who had always thought herself a cut

above the rest of April Grove - Granny Kinch and her

daughter Nancy, who most people thought were a cut below and good, friendly people like Freda and her husband Tommy, and Peggy Shaw and her daughters, and Jess and

Frank Budd. It was a good place to be, she thought. And

there were so many streets like this in Pompey - streets of

small terraced houses, where families lived all their lives and got to know each other, always ready to help out, with just

the odd one or two like the Glaisters and the Kinches and

Baxters, who didn’t quite fit in with the rest yet were still

part of the pattern. So many streets like this, in every city in the land.

We may not have much, Cissie thought, going upstairs to .

lie down on the bed she and Dick shared, but we’ve got a lot

more than some. We’ve got ourselves - family, friends and

neighbours. That’s what you need most in times like these.

Judy had gone to work straight from the hospital. There was

so much to do that she felt that even if she did go to bed she

wouldn’t rest. Getting there through the newly bombed

streets was the usual problem and she wondered if Polly

would like the idea of looking for a couple of second-hand

bikes so that they could cycle to Southsea. It would be better

than having to rely on the uncertain bus service.

As usual after a raid, the casualty station on the ground

floor was frantically busy and there was plenty to be done

for those who had come looking for help, grumbling as

always about having to trek all the way out to Southsea

where the nobs were living in luxury in one of the best

hotels. The staff were used to these complaints by now and

tried to ignore them and get on with the business as

cheerfully as possible, understanding that most of the

grumblers were shocked and bewildered by what had

happened to them.

As she came through the front door, Judy had encountered

the young Observer she had met in the lift a few weeks

earlier. The staff were accustomed to seeing the RAF

uniforms about the building now, and knew most of them

by sight, if not by name. Judy had discovered that most of

them - the night staff in particular - were volunteers, with

other jobs during the day, and her antagonism had faded.

She looked at the tired young face with sympathy.

‘Have you been up there all night?’ she asked, looking up

at the roof of the big building. ‘It must have been pretty

scary.’

He nodded. His eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and

rimmed with red. ‘I suppose it is. You don’t think about it

at the time, though. You just have to get on with the job. I

hope we managed to get a few of the blighters.’

‘It was a bad raid. I’ve been at an Incident Enquiry

Centre. There was this little boy …’ She swayed and put out a hand to steady herself against the wall. ‘I don’t know

how they can do it — bomb people like this. I just don’t

know how they can do it.’

‘It’s the same for us,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re doing the

same to them.’ He ran his fingers through his fair hair. It

was straight and thick, and looked as if it could do with

cutting. If he’d been in the Army, Judy thought irrelevantly,

he’d have been marched off to the barber’s, but the RAF

didn’t seem to bother so much about that sort of thing, and

what did it matter anyway?

‘You look all in,’ she said, and he gave her a wry grin.

‘So do you. Pity really, or I’d have asked you for a date.’

‘A date?

‘Yes - you know, when a bloke takes a girl out. To the

pictures or for a drink, that sort of thing.’ He grinned again, and the grin reached his eyes. They were nice eyes, she

thought, very blue and a bit shy despite the cheekiness of his

grin. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while now but I never

seem to catch you. And now I have, we’re both too whacked

even to think about it.’

‘I can’t think about it anyway,’ Judy said, her tone more

brusque than she had intended. She turned quickly away.

‘I’ve got to go now. Sorry.’ She went through to the office

and shut the door behind her. Laura glanced up in surprise.

‘Hullo, what’s been eating you? Didn’t I see you talking