A Daughter’s Choice. Cathy Sharp

their place by the river now and the kids played there after school. Most of the houses in the lanes had running water and inside lavatories too.

      ‘I’ve never known exactly how old I am,’ Gran said, looking at me sadly as she leaned forward to poke up the fire. I’d been up early to black lead the grate and scrub the stone floor, which was covered with several peg rugs Gran had made from scraps of material. ‘I’ll miss yer if you go, Kathy – but maybe it’s for the best. Ernie’s temper gets worse all the time. If he doesn’t watch out Mr Dawson will get rid of him altogether, and then where will we be?’

      ‘He only keeps him on because he thinks he was to blame for the accident. At least that’s what Da says.’

      ‘That’s daft talk. Ernie has only himself to blame. He was drunk and he didn’t watch what he was doing with that load. It was his own fault it slipped and caught him, breaking his leg. The break never healed properly, that’s the pity of it.’ Gran sighed and looked at me. ‘When are you goin’?’

      ‘It might as well be today,’ I said and immediately felt guilty as I saw her expression of shock. ‘That’s if you’re feeling well enough to manage? I could stay a few days longer if you need me?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m better, Kathy. I shall miss yer, girl, but I won’t stand in your way if it’s what yer want – and maybe it’s for the best. I should think them hospital folk will be glad of a bit of ’elp. They need all the nurses they can get from what I ’ear of things.’

      ‘That’s how I feel,’ I said and kissed her cheek. ‘I know I shan’t be much use for a start, but I’m willing to do whatever they want and I don’t mind hard work.’

      ‘There will be ’ell to pay when Ernie knows you’ve gone, but never mind that, Kathy. I’ll give ’im a piece of me mind fer what he done to you.’

      ‘Don’t upset yourself over it, Gran.’ I touched the bruise gingerly with one finger. ‘It doesn’t hurt so much now and it will soon go.’

      I felt guilty as I looked at her sitting there in her chair by the kitchen range, the fire blazing and putting out so much heat it was almost unbearable on a warm day like today unless you kept the yard door open. The fire and tiny oven beside it was Gran’s only method of cooking and there was usually a pot bubbling away on the top all day.

      She was much better again now, but she wasn’t a young woman and I knew she would miss my help around the house. I didn’t like deserting her, yet I knew I had to get away for a while. For years I’d been aware that there was some mystery surrounding my mother, and my father’s harsh remarks about her had hurt me as much as the blow to my face. He’d seemed to hate her and, for a moment as he’d looked at me, I’d felt he hated me too.

      It was hurtful to have my mother’s shame thrown at me like that, to feel that everyone was expecting me to behave in the same way, and I wanted to go right away from the lanes. Somewhere I wasn’t known. Somewhere I could be myself and hold my head up high.

      There was another life away from the lanes, and this was my opportunity to find it, to make something of myself. I knew that if I didn’t take my chance now, I never would.

      ‘So you want to be a nurse, Miss Cole?’ The rather severe-looking woman behind the desk stared at me in what could only be described as a disapproving manner. ‘And what makes you imagine you have the qualifications for such an important task?’

      I had waited several days to get this interview and I was feeling anxious as she glanced down at my application again. If she turned me down I didn’t know what I was going to do.

      ‘I know I’ve got a lot to learn, miss,’ I replied, meeting her forbidding gaze as steadily as I could. ‘But I’m a quick learner and I don’t mind how hard I work.’

      ‘Are you indeed?’ She drummed her fingers on the top of the battered-looking desk. ‘Well, we shall see. You have already been accepted into the VADs, but it is up to me whether I recommend you for the nursing branch or something else.’ She glanced at the papers in front of her. ‘You give your age as eighteen last birthday – you are a very young eighteen, Miss Cole.’

      ‘Am I?’ She waited for me to elaborate but I didn’t, lying wasn’t my strong point. I had a feeling this woman would know if I tried. ‘I’ll work really hard, miss.’

      She continued to look at me thoughtfully for some minutes.

      ‘Yes, I think perhaps you will.’ She nodded as though making up her mind. ‘Very well, I’m going to put you forward. You will be sent to a hospital just outside London where they have a shortage of staff at present, and more patients than they can cope with, I’m afraid. It’s under the authority of the Military and the patients are all wounded personnel from one of the Armed Forces. You understand that at first you will be doing all the menial jobs the trained nurses just don’t have time for?’

      ‘Yes, miss. All I want to do is help – whatever it is.’

      ‘Then I shall not deny you the chance to serve, Miss Cole. Goodness knows, we need enthusiastic young women badly enough.’ She stamped a paper and handed it to me. ‘Take this to the desk on your way out. You will be provided with your ticket and all the necessary paperwork. You will be required to report to the duty officer on Monday morning without fail.’

      ‘Thank you.’ I took the paper she gave me gratefully, giving her a smile of thanks. ‘Thank you so much for passing me.’

      ‘Don’t let me down, Miss Cole.’ She gave me a wintry smile. ‘And I should let your birth certificate remain lost if I were you.’

      The look in her eyes told me she had not been convinced that I was eighteen, but circumstances were such that she was willing to accept almost anyone she felt could be trusted to work and behave decently.

      It wasn’t surprising with the way things had been going for the past eighteen months or more. The numbers of casualties, both dead and wounded, had been rising steadily as the fighting intensified and the hospitals were stretched to breaking point.

      I had no illusions as I joined the queue at the recruitment agency’s reception desk. There was nothing glamorous about the job I had taken on. I was more likely to find myself emptying and scrubbing endless bedpans than smoothing the brow of a brave soldier, but at least I would feel needed and wanted. It was a chance for me, a chance to get away from the lanes and the past.

      The memory of that quarrel with my father was still hurtful, but I’d made up my mind to put it behind me and look to the future. It was going to take years of hard work, but one day I would be able to call myself a nurse. I wanted to make something of myself.

      ‘Have you been accepted for nursing training too?’

      I turned as the girl spoke behind me. She was several inches shorter than me, not much more than five foot five or six at most, whereas I was nearer five foot eight, but as I looked down into blue eyes that sparkled with fun I liked her immediately. She was pretty, had soft fair hair that curled about her face appealingly, and she was clearly very excited.

      ‘Yes – it was touch and go for a while, though; Miss Martin thought I might not be up to the work, but she accepted me in the end. I’ve been passed to train as a nurse, though I don’t suppose I’ll do much of that for a while.’

      ‘No – but it will be worthwhile in the end,’ she replied. ‘Miss Martin was a bit of an old battleaxe, wasn’t she? At first she said I would never stand up to the work because I’m too delicate. I told her I can eat and work like a horse, and that if she didn’t pass me I’d give a false name and try again until I did get someone to pass me. That made her stare, I can tell you.’ A giggle escaped her. ‘Mind you, I don’t suppose she had much choice really. They need girls so badly and they get an awful lot who fall by the wayside – find they can’t stand the hours or the work – or simply collapse under the strain. That’s what my cousin says anyway, and she has been in the Service from day one.’ She held her hand out. ‘I’m Alice Bowyer by the way. Ally