Until We Meet Again (21 page)

‘Just accept what Sister Berryman has said, dear,’ her mother told her. ‘She praised you highly, and I should imagine she’s not always too generous with her praise, is she?’

‘No, that’s true,’ agreed Tilly.

‘She says she will recommend to Matron that you start your leave now. And I asked her about your transfer to Scarborough. You’ve mentioned it, have you?’

‘Sort of,’ said Tilly, but a little doubtfully. ‘Nothing definite has been decided.’

‘Sister said they’d be sorry to see you go, but if it is what you want then it can be arranged. Your work this last year has been highly satisfactory and you are ready to move on…if you wish.’

‘How do you know it’s what I want, Mother?’ cried Tilly. ‘You have no right to decide for me what I must do! It’s been your idea all along. I have never definitely agreed to it.’ The anger she was feeling was a reaction to the dreadful news she had just heard. She felt she had to strike out at someone, and there was her mother making plans for her whilst her grief was still raw. She was angry and distressed and hurting all over.

‘How do you know that I don’t have something
else in mind?’ she stormed. ‘My friend, Sophie, she’s applied to go overseas. She’s just waiting to hear about her transfer. She wants me to go with her. And after…after all this, I’m starting to think that’s what I must do. I can’t take the easy way out…playing about in a convalescent home. That’s not proper nursing.’

Faith realised that Tilly was distraught and not thinking rationally. She did not blame her for her outburst. The poor girl was heartbroken and, although it was totally out of character, Faith knew that she had to vent her feelings somehow and on someone. And she, Faith, just happened to be there.

‘I understand, my dear,’ she said. ‘I’m following all that you’re saying. And I know why. But it would be wrong for you to make such an important decision now, on the spur of the moment, while you are so upset.’

‘I’ve been thinking of it for a while,’ answered Tilly, a trifle shortly, which was not like her at all. ‘And now…well, maybe I can do more good over there. Where it’s all happening…where Dominic was killed…or so they say.’ She still could not believe it.

Faith knew, for her own part, that her desire to have her daughter stay in England, preferably in Scarborough, was not an entirely unselfish wish.
She had already seen all the male members of her family join up and go to fight overseas; not only her sons, Samuel and Tommy, but Maddy’s husband, Freddie, Hetty’s husband, Bertram, and now Arthur, who was married to Jessica, had gone to serve in the ambulance brigade. Surely it was not too much to hope for that Tilly should remain here where her mother could care for her and offer her some comfort.

‘We do understand,’ said William. ‘We know how you must be feeling. But please don’t be too hasty, Tilly, my dear. Your mother and I only want what is best for you. And I care for you just as much as if you were my own daughter. I know you’re angry. We are angry too at the carnage of this war; it’s beyond all belief. But your mother is doing a wonderful job; I want you to understand that. These lads that we have staying with us, they’re worthy of the very best care and attention. They’re shell-shocked; some of them have lost limbs; one of the youngest – he’s only eighteen – has been blinded. They’re being looked after by an excellent nursing staff. And Maddy, Jessie and Hetty, too, they’re all doing a grand job. And we mustn’t forget Priscilla, Dominic’s cousin. There’s been such a change in that young woman. She’s really found a purpose in her life.’

‘Did you tell her about Dominic?’ asked Tilly, more calmly now.

‘I told her,’ replied Faith. ‘She was sleeping after her night duty when her uncle came to see me. She was very upset, as you can imagine. And your sisters know as well, Tilly. We had to tell them. They knew there was something badly amiss. They send their love and they’re all thinking about you. Of course, you know that, don’t you? As William says, we all love you, Tilly dear…and we want to help you all we can.’

Tilly was silent for a few moments. Her thoughts were all over the place. She knew she had been surly and impolite to her mother, and she regretted that already. She knew they were all doing a vital job at the New Moon home. How insensitive of her to suggest that they were only playing at nursing. If Dominic had been spared, or if Tommy were to be injured, she would have been glad to think that they were receiving the sort of care that was administered at her mother’s nursing home.

She knew, deep down, that she had not really wanted to apply to go overseas as Sophie had done. She had felt that her place was here, and that she was doing a worthwhile job to the best of her ability. What had possessed her to be so perverse and rude? But her mother and Uncle
Will had understood. She loved them all so dearly, all the members of her family back home in Scarborough. Her sisters, too, must be worried out of their minds about their husbands, who were in constant danger. She was wrong to belittle what they were doing.

But to lose Dominic when they had been engaged to be married – but not yet lovers – for such a little time; it was cruel and, to her, it was still unbelievable. She thought of him now, of the two of them strolling hand in hand around the marine drive; in her memory she could hear the waves pounding against the sea wall and the seagulls wheeling and screeching overhead; she could see the ruined castle perched on the clifftop, built long ago as a fortress against the enemies of our beloved land. She knew at that moment that she wanted to be there, in that place she called home, more than anywhere else in the world. Maybe in a little while she might feel differently, but she believed that it was the place for her right now.

‘I’m sorry, Mother, Uncle Will,’ she said. ‘What I said was unforgivable.’

‘Not so,’ said her mother. ‘It was understandable. You are hurting and angry, my dear, as anyone would be.’

‘All the same,’ said Tilly, ‘I’m sorry…’ She
paused, then, ‘I’ll come home with you now,’ she said. ‘It’s what I want to do. Oh, Mother…’ She burst into tears again, unable to hold back her grief any longer. ‘I shall miss him so much…’ Faith held her close whilst the paroxysm of weeping subsided. ‘I’ll be all right now,’ Tilly said bravely. ‘I must go and say goodbye to everyone…’

Her parents went with her to the room she shared with Sophie and a few other young nurses and waited whilst she packed her belongings. Matron and Sister Berryman told her how much they would miss her and they assured her that her dedication to her nursing would be appreciated wherever she was employed.

Her farewell to Sophie was a sad one, as she explained the reasons for her departure. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Sophie, ‘so dreadfully sorry.’ Tilly blinked back her tears. She could tell by the look in her friend’s eyes that the news was not a great surprise to her.

Sophie hugged her. ‘We must keep in touch. I’ll write as soon as I get to France. And we’ll meet again before long, I’m sure.’

On the train journey home Tilly closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. She did not want to talk and her parents seemed to appreciate that. Thoughts of Dominic still obsessed her; she
supposed it would be so for a long time to come. One thought surfaced amidst all the others and would not be suppressed: how she wished now that they had brought their love to its fulfilment; that she had really and truly belonged to him in every way.

Chapter Nineteen

P
riscilla was very distressed at the news of her cousin’s death. She cried for a while after Mrs Moon had told her; she was such a kind, sympathetic person. She put her arms around Priscilla, holding her close in a way that her own mother had never done, at least not since she was a little girl, as far as she could remember.

She was relieved that she could go home for the rest of the day. When she had recovered somewhat from the initial trauma of the news she made her way home. She called first of all at the home of her Uncle Joseph and Aunt Mabel to express her sympathy. It was a mournful household, as was only to be expected, with the curtains closed and neighbours calling to offer their condolences. Her aunt and uncle were touched to see her but she did not stay very long.

Her own parents, too, were saddened at the news. ‘Thank God we haven’t got a son,’ said her father in his usual forthright way. ‘Where’s the sense in bringing up lads for them to be taken away from you? And in such a wicked, senseless way.’

‘Yes, it makes no sense at all, any of it,’ echoed his wife. ‘Poor Dominic…and poor Joseph and Mabel. Their only son; it doesn’t bear thinking about.’ She turned to her daughter.

‘Are you home for the rest of the weekend, Priscilla? If so you can give me a hand with the Sunday dinner. It’s all fallen on me since you went to work for Mrs Moon. Young Alice isn’t much help.’ Alice was their latest in a long line of maids. Priscilla knew she was little more than a scivvy, given all the jobs that Maud Fortescue found too unpleasant. It was her mother’s regret that they could not afford a live-in housekeeper. ‘Not that we shall feel like eating much,’ she went on. ‘This news has knocked the stuffing out of me.’

‘No, Mother,’ answered Priscilla. ‘I’m going back tomorrow. Mrs Moon gave me the rest of today off because I’m upset about Dominic. But I shall be back there tomorrow, and it’s my turn for Sunday duty as well.’

‘Dear me!’ said her mother. ‘I do think, under the circumstances, that you could have had the
weekend off. Well, I suppose I shall have to manage.’

‘The lass is doing vital war work,’ said her father. Cedric Fortescue, unlike his wife, had made very little objection when his daughter had stopped working at the estate agency to go to the convalescent home. ‘Let’s try to remember that, shall we, Maud? Anyway, she’s better off working than moping around here. I’m sorry, lass,’ he said to Priscilla. ‘I know you were fond of your cousin. He was a grand young man.’

Priscilla nodded, dry-eyed now. She remembered Dominic as a tiny baby. She had been eight years old when he was born, a cherubic little lad with blond hair and bright blue eyes, but with a spark of mischief as he grew older. The two of them had got on well together, despite the age gap and the difference in their temperaments. Priscilla had known that her shyness was the reason she did not have lots of friends as other girls did, and she was aware that young men took little notice of her. Dominic had been the exception. With him she could converse quite naturally and he was able to make her laugh and see the amusing side of things. She had been so pleased when he had become friendly with Tilly Moon. She had thought they were a lovely couple, just right for one another. It was all so very tragic.

She was feeling more composed by the time she returned to the New Moon home on Saturday morning. This was the day that Jack Smollett’s visitor, his long-time girlfriend, Doris, was coming to see him. She was curious to see her, although she knew that to do so would probably make her feel even more dejected about her spinsterhood. Until she had met Jack she had scarcely given any thought to it, assuming that she would never get married and not particularly wanting to. Now she found herself envying young women such as Maddy, Jessie and Hetty, even though their husbands were away in the war. She wished that she, too, could belong to somebody in the way that they did. Not that she let her envy show; she was too realistic a person to let her daydreams get the better of her.

Her fellow workers were subdued at the news about Dominic and they did not say too much about it, knowing that she was his cousin. Jack, somehow, had heard about it and he said how sorry he was. Apart from that he was in a happy mood, looking forward to his visit in the afternoon, although, beneath his buoyancy, Priscilla sensed that he was a mite apprehensive.

The visitors started to arrive in the early afternoon. They were welcomed by Hetty Lucas, standing in for Faith, who had gone to Bradford
to tell her daughter the sad news about Dominic. As it was a sunny day several of the patients, including Jack, were sitting in the garden. Priscilla busied herself with her tasks; talking to the men who did not have visitors and were feeling, some of them, a little downcast; tidying the linen cupboard; then making pots of tea for the patients and their visitors.

She crossed the lawn with a tray holding a teapot, milk and sugar, cups, saucers and plates, and two pieces of Mrs Baker’s special sponge cake, to where Jack and his visitor were sitting on garden chairs.

‘Good afternoon, Jack,’ she said. ‘I’ve brought you some tea and cake.’ She placed the tray on a little round table, several of which were dotted around the lawn for the use of patients and their guests. ‘Shall I leave it, or would you like me to pour the tea for you?’

Jack looked up and smiled at her. ‘Thank you, Priscilla. Let me introduce my friend, Doris… Doris, this is my friend, Priscilla, who is my right-hand man – or woman, I ought to say. She really is my right hand, in every way. I couldn’t have managed without her. Priscilla, this is my friend from home, Doris Patterson.’

The two women shook hands, murmuring the conventional ‘How do you do?’

Priscilla found herself looking into pale blue eyes that were regarding her quizzically and a trifle coldly. The young woman smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes, only her red lipsticked mouth. She was pretty in a bold sort of way with jet black hair, cut very short in an up-to-the-minute style. Her clothing, too, was stylish; a bright pink dress and jacket with a white collar and cuffs, and a tiny feathered pink hat perched on the top of her head. Priscilla, in her serviceable green uniform, felt like an ordinary brown sparrow at the side of an exotic bird of paradise.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ said Priscilla, although, in truth, she was nothing of the sort. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Oh,’ said Doris, indifferently. ‘Fancy that.’ And then, probably because courtesy required it, ‘Thank you for looking after Jack. I presume you have written the letters?’

‘Yes…but only at Jack’s dictation,’ Priscilla told her.

‘Quite so,’ said Doris. ‘Thank you; you can leave us now.’ She nodded curtly. ‘I can manage to pour out the tea.’

Priscilla understood she was being summarily dismissed and she went back to the house feeling she had been well and truly put in her place. Jack had scarcely looked at her, Priscilla, after he had
introduced the two of them and she guessed he was a little embarrassed at his lady friend’s abrupt manner. She felt hurt and annoyed at being treated as a servant rather than as a friend of Jack, which was how she had been introduced. She supposed, though, that was how she and her fellow workers were regarded in the main; they were just there to do a job. Above all, though, she was feeling sorry for Jack. From the little she had seen of her, Doris appeared to be a cold and heartless person, and she wished him joy of her, if that was the young woman he wanted.

For the rest of the afternoon she kept well away from the garden and did not see Doris or any of the other guests depart. Priscilla was staying the night at the convalescent home. She did so sometimes when she was on early morning duty, as she would be on Sunday morning. At other times, depending on the times of her shifts, she might go home. She was finding more and more, however, that she was happier staying at the home of Mr and Mrs Moon. Hetty and Jessie, who had young children, very rarely stayed there overnight; their shifts were organised to coincide with the school hours of their children and the availability of people to look after them. Priscilla and anyone else who stayed there at night shared the room that had once belonged to Tilly. When
– or if – Tilly returned to continue her nursing duties in Scarborough, she would be sharing the room that she had once had to herself.

Mr and Mrs Moon had gone to Bradford to see their daughter today, and Priscilla was surprised, when they returned, to see that Tilly was with them. It was early evening and she was sitting in the room where the staff, both nursing and auxiliary helpers, relaxed when they were off duty. She could see from a brief glimpse of her through the window that Tilly looked pale and dejected, as though all the spirit had gone out of her. Priscilla was reading her
People’s Friend
magazine but the words were meaningless. She put it down and stared out of the window. The garden was beautiful, with the roses at the height of their summer blooming, and the herbaceous border was a riot of colour with lupins, delphiniums, marigolds, sweet williams and stocks flowering in abundance. It was a haven of peace and contentment for the patients, as well as for the staff, when they had time to take their ease there. It was little wonder that some of the men seemed reluctant to leave, even to go home.

Faith Moon came to find Priscilla a little while later. ‘Tilly has gone to her room,’ she told her. ‘She will be sharing it now with you and maybe others, and she understands that very well. I’m
glad to say that we were able to persuade her to come back with us. She is due for a spot of leave, and then she will be continuing with her nursing here. I can’t tell you how relieved I am about that, Priscilla.’

She saw the older woman’s eyes mist over with tears. ‘How is she?’ Priscilla asked. ‘It must have been a dreadful shock to her.’

‘Yes, it was, of course,’ replied Faith. ‘I think she still can’t believe it. At least…she knows that it must be true, but her mind can’t accept it. She seemed to have got it into her head that we were coming with bad news about Tommy… I think she would like to see you, Priscilla. Would you go up and have a talk to her, dear? She may be able to say things to you that she wouldn’t want to say to me.’

‘Of course, Mrs Moon,’ said Priscilla. She was pleased that she was being regarded as a friend of Tilly, although she had not known her really well. ‘I’ll go right away.’

Tilly was sitting on the edge of the bed nearest to the window, looking out over the back garden. She turned as Priscilla knocked at the door and then entered. Her eyes lit up just a little in a sad smile. ‘Priscilla…’ she said, and the warmth was there in her voice even though she must have been feeling dreadfully sad. ‘I’m so pleased to see
you. Come and sit next to me. I badly need some company at the moment. I feel that people might avoid me because they don’t know what to say, but that is not what I want.’

Priscilla sat down next to her and put her arms around her. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It’s been a shock to me as well.’

‘Yes, you were fond of him, weren’t you?’ said Tilly. ‘I know you will miss him. I was going to say just as much as I will…but I don’t think that’s possible. I had only known him – known him well, I mean – for such a short time, Priscilla. We thought we had our whole lives ahead of us. I don’t think we ever imagined…at least, I didn’t.’

‘I know; it’s so very tragic,’ murmured Priscilla, unsure as to what else to say.

‘I’m not going to cry all over you,’ said Tilly, trying to smile a little. ‘I’ve done my weeping, for the moment at least, although I daresay it will happen again. He meant such a lot to me… I’d known him for ages, because he was my brother’s friend, but then I began to see him in a different light…’

Priscilla sensed that Tilly wanted to talk and knew it would be cathartic for her to do so. She listened, holding Tilly’s hand as she spoke about Dominic; how she had known she was falling in love with him the very first time she had been alone
with him when they had walked home around the marine drive. She told Priscilla about the places they had liked to visit; the woodland paths leading down to the sea, Peasholm Park, Oliver’s Mount on a hilltop overlooking the town and, further afield, the Forge Valley, Scalby Mills and Cayton Bay, which they had visited on cycling trips.

‘There was so much more to Dominic than meets the eye, when you got to know him well,’ she told Priscilla. ‘He seemed flippant at times, as though he never took anything seriously; he loved to laugh and joke, but it was an act he liked to put on. He was really a very thoughtful and sincere person; he would never do anyone a bad turn or be unkind or inconsiderate. And I loved him so much…’

Priscilla felt herself blushing a little as Tilly went on to speak of more intimate matters. ‘We were never lovers,’ she said, ‘if you know what I mean?’ Priscilla nodded; she understood although it was something she had never given much thought to, certainly not with regard to herself or anyone else. Such subjects were taboo at her home.

‘We thought about it…we were so much in love,’ Tilly went on, almost as though she were talking to herself. ‘Just before he went away… we could have gone to a friend’s house and been entirely on our own. But I said no… I didn’t think
it would be right, and Dominic, deep down, felt the same. We decided we would wait. We were going to get married as soon as we could. But I wish now…’ She looked at Priscilla with such anguish and longing in her eyes. ‘How I wish now that we had proved our love for one another…in every way.’