Pack Up Your Troubles

‘Plans? What plans?’

‘I can’t talk about it yet but Clifford has some wonderful ideas for the smallholding,’ said her mother. ‘One thing is absolutely certain, you mustn’t waste your life hanging around for us.’

Impulsively, Connie hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ As they parted, Gwen’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Put the past behind us … the words echoed in Connie’s head. Ga never let her forget the past … but could she do it? Could she forget the shame and guilt that awful man had brought on her family and actually make something of her life? Could she make it up to her mother for her brother going away? Was there still time? ‘I may not be able to do it now anyway,’ Connie said uncertainly. ‘I haven’t replied to any of their letters.’

Gwen looked at her, horrified. ‘When were you supposed to start?’

‘On 10

September,’ said Connie.

‘Then you’d better leave that and get on the bus straight away,’ she cried. ‘Go down there in person. Blame the war, blame me. Say I’ve been really ill and now I’m better … say anything you like, but whatever you do, make sure you get that place again.’

Connie hesitated.

‘Go on girl!’ her mother cried. And Connie fled.

*

The bridegroom stood up and turned to see the small procession make its way down the aisle. The church was small and even in these difficult times, little used. It smelled dank and musty as he’d walked into the door. He would have preferred a registry office himself. All this preamble – the reading of the banns and talks with the Vicar made him nervous but she’d had her heart set on a proper wedding so he’d given in. The usher, some old fossil who looked as old as Methuselah, showed him to the front pew. His best man, a chap he’d met in the pub a week before, rose unsteadily to his feet as he arrived and gave him a watery smile. His teeth were tobacco stained but he had scrubbed up well enough. They sat down together and waited. After a while he said, ‘Got the ring?’ and the best man nodded. There was a rustling sound by the door of the church and the Vicar came down the aisle. ‘Please stand.’

The organist struck up the tune, ‘Here Comes the Bride’ and his heartbeat quickened. No getting out of this now. He had made a decision which had surprised even himself. He had never really had a close relationship before. Only the one with his mother. Would he be able to cope with marriage? He swayed a little at the thought and wiped his open palms down the side of his suit as he slowly turned to look. The congregation, such as it was, was already standing; only one relative on his side and a spattering of people on hers. Every head was turned in anticipation of the coming bride but his eye was immediately drawn to her. She was wearing a white satin dress with a pretty pink bow at her waist. Someone had put her hair into golden ringlets and she had a halo of roses, the last roses of the summer, on her head. He took in his breath. She was nothing short of an angel sent from heaven. She carried a posy and she watched his face as she walked purposefully towards him. She returned his smile with a gappy grin and then closed her mouth as she remembered her missing milk teeth. He laughed softly andlooked up at his bride, her mother, coming on behind her. Yes, he had done the right thing. Everything was perfect, just perfect.

Seven

It was weird. Pip had been following Connie around all day with his tail between his legs. It was as if he knew she was going.

‘I’ll be around until the 9th but after that I shall move into the nurses’ home,’ Connie told everyone at the tea table.

She had managed to see someone in management and after an hour of being moved from one person to another, had persuaded them that she was ready to start her training.

‘Why can’t you live here?’ Ga sat tight-lipped and frowning at her great niece. ‘You could catch the bus from the end of the road.’

Connie knew that was just a ruse to make her feel that they couldn’t cope without her. Before long Ga would be dumping ‘would-you-just jobs’ into her lap. Oh, Connie while you’re doing that, would-you-just pick out a few of those seedlings, or before you catch the bus, would-you-just take that into the shop for me.

‘I have to be on the ward at seven and you know me first thing in the morning, Ga,’ she said brightly. ‘It’ll be better if I’m in the nurses’ home.’

But Ga wasn’t about to give up that easily. ‘What about all the books you’re supposed to have? You needn’t expect …’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Connie, knowing perfectly well what was coming. ‘I’ve already saved enough to buy everything.’

‘Perhaps it’s just as well things didn’t work out for you and Emmett then,’ Ga remarked acidly. ‘You wouldn’t even be allowed to train if you were married.’

The mention of Emmett made Connie’s heart lurch, but then Ga had meant to upset her, hadn’t she? Why did she keep saying stuff like that? For the sake of her mother, Connie bit her tongue.

‘Why can’t you just be happy for the girl?’ Clifford snapped, ‘and for once, say something encouraging.’

‘Well!’ Ga glared.

‘It’s all right, Clifford,’ Gwen soothed.

Clifford helped himself to some more potatoes. ‘No, it’s not, Gwennie,’ he said.

‘I’m only trying to make her see that it won’t be easy,’ Ga protested.

‘I know it won’t be easy, Ga.’

The atmosphere at the table soured. Her great aunt was probably right, or she would have been right if it was still 1939. The unwritten rule for nurses had always been that women who married would give up the profession but the war had left hospitals alongside many other institutions with severe shortages of manpower. Connie felt sure that by the time she’d gained her nursing badge, the ‘no married women’ edict would be a thing of the past anyway. Not only that, but the new government was pressing ahead with a country-wide health service which would be free to all, regardless of income or status, at the point of need. Things were changing. They were indeed entering a brave new world.

Now that she was really going, Connie was thrown into a hive of activity. She’d found the list of things she was supposed to bring with her to the hospital and set off into town. Ga said nothing when Connie came back with her purchases but she shot her one of her dark looks. As a child, they had terrified her and even now they made Connie feel a little uncomfortable, but she was determined not to let the old lady spoil her excitement.

‘So you’re going to run out on your mother after all,’ said Ga when the two of them were alone in the kitchen. Connie was making a pot of tea and when Ga walked in she’d asked her if she wanted one.

‘I’m not running out on anyone,’ said Connie calmly. ‘Mum’s given me her blessing.’ Her great aunt tightened her mouth disapprovingly. ‘It’s time to think about me,’ Connie pre-empted. She hated herself for feeling the need to justify her own actions. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, but she knew what Ga was like.

‘Me, me, me,’ Ga taunted. ‘Never mind about anyone else.’

Her cheeks flaming with anger, Connie shoved the cup in front of her, slopping some of the tea into the saucer. As she poured her own cup she could hear Ga rubbing her knee and letting out little sighs of pain and discomfort. It took everything Connie had not to stalk out of the room or to round on Ga with some cutting comment but she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a fight. She wasn’t going to allow Ga to spoil her last few days at home so there would be no more rows. Ga could harrumph and disapprove as much as she liked but Connie was going to be a nurse no matter what she damn well said.

Sally Burndell blinked at the piece of paper in her hand. She turned over the envelope and looked at the postmark. Worthing 6.30 p.m. Posted last night and locally. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes as she read it again. There was no name at the bottom of course, but whoever sent them seemed to know an awful lot about her. It had been bad enough when she’d got that awful letter from the secretarial college but when she’d applied to the one in Brighton and been refused there as well, she’d been devastated. As the panic rose within her chest, her heartbeat quickened. She lowered herself into a chair. And read it again. ‘I do not wish to cast aspersions …’ What did aspersions mean? Sally wasn’t sure but it didn’t sound good. ‘Do you think it wise to flirt with other men while Terry is away?If I wrote and told him what you were up to, he’d realise you are a tart.’ They were allsigned ‘a well-wisher’. How could someone be a well-wisher and yet write such nasty things? What if this person wrote to Terry? Going to the dances had only been a bit of fun. She never even let another boy kiss her and she always went straight home after they’d finished, either with Connie or Jane. If only she knew who had written such hateful things she would have it out with them. The letter trembled in her hand and as she gave way to her sobs, she was so glad her mother was out shopping. She couldn’t bear it. How could anyone be so cruel? It was all lies. Wicked, wicked lies!

Connie missed Kez. Jane was a good friend but there was something about Kez … She walked up to the lane with Pip most days in the vain hope that they might be back, but she was always disappointed. And what about that pram? Then it crossed her mind that Simeon might have told the Frenchie about it so on her way back from the shops, she headed towards his workshop. She knocked on the door even though it was already open. ‘Hello …’

‘Nearly done,’ said a voice deep inside. He stood up from behind an upturned bicycle frame, and spun the wheel. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought you were the owner come back for the bike. Connie, isn’t it? What can I do for you?’

Already her heartbeat was gathering speed. His sleeves were neatly rolled up to his biceps and his shirt was open to the waist. She could see at once that he had an athletic build. He was as attractive as ever, despite his dirty clothes and oil-smudged face. ‘I – I wondered if you knew when Kez and Simeon would be coming back?’ she flustered.

He shook his head and taking a piece of rag from his pocket began to wipe his hands. ‘I don’t think they know themselves.’

Connie nodded and turned to go. ‘It’s just that I’m moving away for a bit.’

‘If I see her, shall I tell her where you’ve gone?’

Connie quickly explained about her nursing. The Frenchie seemed impressed. ‘Good for you. If I see them, I’ll tell them,’ he promised and their eyes locked.

‘There seems to be no end to your talent,’ she laughed nervously, waving her hand towards the mobile shop taking shape at last. ‘Now here you are mending bicycles.’

‘This is my proper job,’ he smiled. ‘I was only helping Simeon out. It was a good idea, wasn’t it?’

‘Your idea, so he said,’ Connie grinned.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten. Brilliant, wasn’t it?’ and they both laughed.

Connie was suddenly distracted by her old doll’s pram hanging on a hook by its handle on the wall behind him. It had been painted a lovely shade of maroon and the hood seemed new.

‘Oh yes,’ said the Frenchie following her eye. ‘Simeon said you wanted that for your little sister. Simeon painted it and put on a new hood. I’ve repaired the wonky wheel and he asked me to paint something nice on the sides. I’m afraid I haven’t got around to it yet. Sorry.’

‘No, no,’ she smiled. ‘That’s fine. I wanted it for Christmas, so there’s plenty of time. How much do I owe you?’