Read A Wartime Nurse for Free Online

Theda was his sister and remorse struck him.
    ‘It’s the tune, Chuck,’ his mother began, but Theda interrupted her. She had not been so lost in thought after all.
    ‘Never mind, Mam, I hear it often enough on the wireless anyway.’
    By, thought Bea as she regarded her elder daughter, a large family was supposed to be a consolation in your old age. But these days, the more children you had, the more worry and heartache you had to go with them. She noted the shadows under the girl’s dark eyes, and how pale she was. Were they working her too hard in that hospital? After all, she could hardly have got over poor Alan being killed, and so soon after he had been home on embarkation leave. Bea glanced at the girl’s hand, noting she was no longer wearing his engagement ring.
    Theda put the hand up to her stiff white collar and loosened the stud as though it had suddenly become too tight. She was still in her nurse’s dress though she had removed her apron and white cap, revealing the way her hair was pinned up off her neck. Some dark tendrils had escaped the pins and curled over her nape and around her temples. Bea sighed. The poor lass seemed so vulnerable somehow. She cast around for something to engage the girl’s attention; Bea didn’t believe in morbid thoughts.
    ‘Why don’t you and Clara go out for a walk before chapel, pet?’ she suggested. ‘You look really peaky. The fresh air will do you good after being cooped up in that hospital all week.’
    ‘Oh, I would but I promised to go over to Violet’s house today.’ Clara was just coming down the stairs and heard her mother’s suggestion. Her dark, curly hair, so like Theda’s and indeed all the Wearmouth family’s, was strained into rolls on top of her head in imitation of Lana Turner.
    Bea tightened her lips in annoyance. Did Clara think of no one but herself?
    ‘It’s all right, Clara,’ said Theda, who was well aware of her sister’s plans for the day and certainly didn’t want to spoil them. All she wanted was for her mother to stop treating her like a convalescent.
    Clara grinned in relief and held out a black eyebrow pencil to her sister. ‘Will you draw me in some seams?’
    ‘Righto.’
    Theda took the pencil from her sister’s hand, which was stained as much as her legs from the ‘liquid stockings’ she had been painting on. ‘Stand on a chair then,’ she said, and carefully drew straight lines from the top of her sister’s wedge-heeled shoes to the middle of her thighs, lifting her skirt to reach the last bit.
    Behind her, Chuck finished combing his hair at last and stuck the comb in the top pocket of his jacket, ready for the frequent touching up he felt his hairstyle would need during his walk with Norma Musgrove, the overman’s daughter. They had been walking out for a year now and still he dithered about getting married.
    ‘Ta-ra,’ he called as he strode out of the kitchen and down the yard. Bea watched him go up the row before looking back at the girls.
    ‘Why don’t you go with Clara, pet?’ she asked Theda. ‘I’m sure Violet won’t mind. You can all come back for your tea; I’ll open that tin of salmon I’ve got saved from last month’s ration.’
    Theda was hard put to it not to burst out laughing when she saw her sister’s dismay. Clara and her friend had dates with a couple of soldiers, or were they Canadian airmen? She remembered Violet and Clara had been talking about the Canadians stationed at Middleton St George. They were going into Bishop Auckland to the pictures at the King’s Hall. There must be more to it than usual too, Theda reckoned, for the airmen to come into Bishop Auckland; Middleton St George was nearer Darlington.
    ‘No, Mam, I don’t want to. I’ve made plans of my own for this afternoon,’ she said quickly, and Clara’s face cleared.
    ‘Oh and what might they be?’ asked Bea.
    ‘I’m . . . I’m going to change and then I thought I would go over to see Alan’s mum and dad.