An Unsuitable Mother. Sheelagh Kelly

away lest she be dubbed a prude or a coward, Nell tried to bolster herself with the thought that it was far worse for the unfortunate victim than it was for any of his audience. But this did not make it any easier, and she hoped her experience on this ward would be brief.

      What on earth would Billy have to say if he knew? Though she had no intention of telling him, or her parents. Nell doubted either of the latter would know of the existence of such horrific diseases, what with the upright lives they had led. Why, she herself had never guessed beforehand. This job had certainly broadened her education, though she would have preferred to remain ignorant of some things. Still, there was always humour to be found in any situation, and she could not help blurting an unintentional laugh in front of her friend Beata as they washed their hands for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

      ‘I’m just trying to think of an answer for when my mother asks what I did at work today,’ she explained to her friend, who cracked a similar smile.

      ‘Aye, it’s not really polite conversation to say you watched a man have an umbrella shoved up his willy,’ said Beata. ‘Let alone recommend it as a spectator sport.’

      ‘I could have died of embarrassment!’ Blushing at the thought, Nell covered her face with the towel, before heaping admiration on her friend. ‘Whilst you didn’t even flinch.’

      ‘Oh, don’t go accrediting me with special powers, it’s just that I’ve seen a lot of ’em – a lot of the same one, anyway,’ Beata corrected herself, as Nell burst out laughing again. ‘I had to nurse my bedridden uncle, amongst others, bath him and everything. So there’s nowt much else can startle me. Not that Uncle Teddy had anything so horrible done to him as that poor chap.’ Then she cocked her head and reflected. ‘Mindst, some days I would’ve liked to ram a proper umbrella up him, the nasty old sod.’

      Nell’s eyes watered from merriment. ‘Oh, I’m so lucky to be working with you, Killie, you’re such a joy!’ And her words were truly heartfelt.

      But still, her main source of joy was in the receipt of Billy’s letters at the end of the day. With no time to visit the Preciouses each lunchtime now, she had to wait until after work, travelling a mile out of her way in order to retrieve a few mundane lines of news. Yet she would have gone to the ends of the earth for the row of kisses that always embellished Billy’s short letters.

      It was immensely worrying, though, to think of him in that terrible blitz inflicted on the south. Though nothing in comparison, the air raids had become more frequent around York as well, and October had seen the first two deaths, though on the other side of the city to where Nell lived. Moreover, the bombs were getting to be a little close to home; last week one of them had descended quite near to Aunty Phyllis’s, falling between two houses and half-demolishing both. And although, thankfully, the occupants had escaped with burns and fractures, it was all very un settling, for Nell was personally acquainted with these victims.

      Had England thought she had seen the utmost that Goering could unleash, there came a change of tactics, and the worst raid of the war, this time upon Coventry. Stunned from the news, the fledgling nurses were still discussing this during their lunch hour at a restaurant in town, none of them able to fathom the scale of the destruction, nor how it must feel to confront so many casualties. A thousand dead, God knew how many more injured, rank upon rank of them being ferried to the first-aid post, of which there was one at the Infirmary.

      ‘I mean, where would one start with numbers such as those?’ Lavinia Ashton looked anguished. ‘Whom would one treat first? We’ve never been given any real practice – all right, we’ve applied one or two bandages, et cetera, but in the scheme of things they were small-fry. We’ve never been put to the test. I’m afraid I might not come up to scratch when faced with something so massive as Coventry …’

      Nell was afraid of this too, and was deeply thoughtful as she devoured the contents of her plate. After two months of visiting the Infirmary, her senses were no longer so acute to the disagreeable sights and smells, and the queasiness that had initially marred her appetite had waned.

      ‘Well, it hasn’t put you off your meal,’ reproved an amazed Joyson, breaking the serious atmosphere, having been studying Nell’s gluttonous attack on the suet dumplings that Beata had left on the edge of her plate. ‘By you can eat like a horse!’

      Suddenly aware that everyone else at the table was eyeing her in fun, Nell reddened and paused in her lusty consumption. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend anyone … I’m just ravenous with all that hard work.’

      ‘You eat all you like, love.’ Between sips of tea, Beata stuck up for her.

      ‘Yes, you jolly well deserve it,’ chipped in Lavinia, backed by her sister.

      ‘I’m glad to see them go, I never could stand suet.’ Beata shuddered and grimaced.

      ‘What did you order dumplings for, then?’ countered Joyson.

      ‘Because I wanted the stew that came with them,’ retorted Beata. ‘If that’s all right with you?’ She and Nell had been looking forward to this hearty meal, which could be had for only a shilling – including a pudding – and had attempted to sneak off by themselves. They had not minded Frenchy and the younger Nurse Green and even the Ashton girls tagging along, but Joyson was bad enough at work without having to suffer her at meal breaks. ‘Eh, she’d argue with her own reflection, she would,’ came her assertion to the others.

      ‘I ’ate zem too,’ declared the attractive Frenchy. ‘I ’ate all Angleesh fud.’

      Joyson turned on her. ‘What will you be having for your Christmas dinner, then? frogs’ legs and snails, I suppose?’

      Whilst Frenchy struggled for a reply, the questioner was criticised by Green, though not for her xenophobic assumption. ‘Heaven help us, Joy, it’s over a month away!’

      ‘Whatever it is, it’ll be a damned sight better than t’other Christmas I spent with Uncle Teddy,’ quoted Beata. ‘Pork ribs and cabbage – eh, he were that tight he’d make Scrooge look like Good King Wenceslas.’

      ‘Never mind, you’ll be able to buy yourself something tasty with all these extra three and sixpences you’re getting,’ said Green. The auxiliaries had lately received a rise.

      ‘Well, all I want for Christmas is to see some action.’ Feeling self-conscious at being the only one left eating, Nell had laid down her cutlery and now sat back with a look of frustration. ‘It’s so annoying being all dressed up and nowhere to go.’

      How she was to regret those words! For at half past eight that same evening, just as she was relaxing into a steamy bath, fantasising over Billy, her mother banged frantically on the door.

      ‘Eleanor, your debut is nigh!’

      Having shot upright, sluicing water from one end of the bath to the other and onto the black and white lino, Nell remained there for a second, suspended by shock and clutching the wedding ring that hung from her neck. ‘Oh, Mother – what was that?’

      ‘They’ve sent a messenger! You’ve to get to Leeman Road straight away – don’t waste the water, leave it in for your father!’

      Launching herself from the bath, a dripping Nell began rapidly to dry herself, stumbling and hopping over the putting on of her clothes, which clung to her still-damp limbs and much hindered her dressing. But it was all so exciting – she was needed at last!

      ‘Have you any petrol at all in the car, Father?’ came her breathless query upon rushing downstairs, clothes all awry.

      ‘I don’t want to waste it. You can borrow my bike, though!’ he offered.

      First came dismay – she was hopeless at balancing on two wheels – but then, ‘Needs must!’ Nell put on her hat and coat, and, with her father striding ahead to ensure the lights were turned off before opening the outer door, she hurried in his wake. Plunged into darkness, she held back whilst Wilfred tugged the awful contraption from the shed.

      Hardly