Pattern of Shadows (24 page)

‘May I have a word, Sister Howarth?’

Mary looked up from the notes she was writing. ‘Will it take long, Nurse Lewis, I need to finish this paperwork before I go off shift?’

‘No, not long.’

Mary frowned as the woman stepped further into her office and closed the door behind her. ‘Sorry, I did say I only have a minute …’

‘I rather think this is something you might not want the
rest of the staff to hear.’ Hilda Lewis sat on the chair in the corner of the tiny room.

‘Now really, Nurse.’ Mary put the top on her pen and resting both arms across the desk, leant forward. ‘What is it this time?’ she sighed, making no attempt to hide her irritation. ‘Who has done what now?’

The small overhead light bulb shone on the lenses of Hilda Lewis’s spectacles so Mary couldn’t see the expression in her small dark eyes, but she could see the triumphant sneer in the thin lips. Somebody is definitely in trouble, she thought again, watching Hilda tidy tiny wisps of greying hair under her cap before folding her hands neatly in her lap and recognizing that any hope of halting what was surely malicious gossip had not worked.

‘I have something to report.’ The nurse glanced round at the door in an exaggerated fashion and bent forward. ‘Well, perhaps not to report, Sister Howarth, perhaps just to say to you.’

Mary lifted her chin, an involuntary movement. The woman’s breath was sour. She sat back in her chair, winding the pen through her fingers.

‘Yes, it’s probably best you listen carefully.’ Hilda Lewis moved her head slowly up and down.

Mary shifted, a sense of foreboding moved under her skin. ‘What is it?’

‘As you know I’ve been helping on the ward today.’

‘You were detailed here, Nurse Lewis, because you were not needed on your own floor today. Get on with it, please.’

The lenses flashed as Hilda flung her head back and sniffed. ‘Right! I was finishing the dressing on the patient in bed fourteen when one of the guards came
into the ward.’ She paused, now visibly enjoying herself again. ‘It was Shuttleworth, the man who was involved in the incident when Doctor Schormann was shot?’ Mary dropped the pen. Annoyed with herself she flattened her hand over it before it rolled off the desk. Hilda nodded. ‘Well, he walked straight up to the Doctor’s bed.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I was going to say something but then they started talking and, seeing as how I was behind the dividing curtains, I thought to myself, if I come out now they’ll think I was listening, so I stayed where I was.’ She paused.

Mary didn’t move. Her mind raced but she could find nothing to say.

‘I thought at first they must be on friendly terms and I was thinking I might have to report that … I mean, as my duty … you know how Matron’s always going on about how wrong it is for anybody to get too friendly with the prisoners.’ Hilda paused. ‘I’ve always made a point of keeping my distance. I hope you’ve noticed that, Sister?’

Mary moved her head automatically.

‘Good! But then,’ she stressed the word, ‘then, Shuttleworth started going on about the shooting, about the findings of the inquest, and I have to say he had a very nasty tone on him. He was saying about the verdicts being justifiable homicide and accidental wounding. He said the words really slowly; especially when he said the accident part of the findings was the bit about him shooting Doctor Schormann.’ Hilda shuffled to the edge of the chair, her hands clasped together on her knees.

‘Just get on with it, please Nurse,’ Mary said. She pressed her thumb on the back of her fingers until they were white.

‘Then he said something really odd. He said he’d got away with it and he would really have preferred justifiable homicide in Doctor Schormann’s case too. Don’t you think that’s an odd thing to say, Sister?’

Mary tried to swallow, her throat dry. She took her hands off the table and clenched them in her lap.

Hilda Lewis watched, waiting for a reply and made a slight shrug. ‘Well, I did. Then Shuttleworth said that the man who’d died had been warned about jumping in and out of line. Shuttleworth said he’d been ordered to watch out for him and that’s why, when he charged at that Gunner, he shot him, his duty, he said … which I suppose it was,’ she added. ‘He then said that Schormann …’

‘Doctor Schormann,’ Mary corrected

‘Yes, well. He said the doctor just got in the way.’ The woman lowered her voice even more. ‘I had to really listen to hear what he said next.’ She paused. ‘He leant closer to the doctor and whispered … I remember the exact words because I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard them and you’ll be the same …’

‘Just get on with it,’ Mary snapped.

Hilda Lewis raised her eyebrows. ‘Manners cost nothing, miss.’

Mary let the deliberate slight pass. ‘Just tell me what he said, please.’

‘He said, “And if you know what’s good for you; if you don’t want another accident, you’ll stay away from Mary.” And then he did that horrible cracking of his knuckles that men do sometimes … and then …’ She’d leant so far forward now she was holding on to the edge of the desk. ‘And then he said, “I’ll be right on target next time, believe me.”’

She leant back, her eyes invisible again, but the sneer openly widening her mouth. ‘That was when you came on to the ward with Doctor Pensch. I saw you notice what was happening and the orderly going off. At the same time Doctor Schormann said something.’ Her nostrils flared. ‘It sounded like he was swearing in that horrible language of his.’ She gave a long gusty sigh. ‘I didn’t hear any more but I did see Doctor Schormann do something though, he made a gesture … like this.’ She crooked her forefinger. ‘Shuttleworth leaned towards him.

‘That was when Matron came into the ward.’ Hilda sniggered. ‘She told him, didn’t she?’ Her gaze never left Mary’s face. ‘I didn’t hear what Doctor Schormann said, but it really made Shuttleworth mad, though, even though he kept the smile on his face. He said something like, “I can see we’ll have to have words, Mary and me.” And then he checked his watch. Oh, he was mad all right, even if he did do that stupid swagger when he left … just like all the guards do.’

Mary could feel the bile curdling in her stomach. She understood now, thinking back to when it happened, she knew why he’d pretended to be so cocky. That was why it felt so threatening: she knew it had been pretence. She tried to remember exactly what happened …

‘What are you doing in my hospital, may I ask?’ Matron’s voice was icy cold.

‘Just seeing how the doctor is, Matron.’ Frank leapt to his feet, the chair legs scraping the polished floor. He tightened his belt and, stretching his neck upwards, straightened his tie.

‘You have no right to be here. Please leave.’ Matron
fixed a baleful stare on him.

Frank winked at Mary and swaggered out, feeling in his tunic pocket for his cigarettes. Through the window in the door she saw him light it in the corridor, ignoring the disapproving look from Nurse Lewis, who, seeming to appear from nowhere, followed him out.

Matron turned to the bed. ‘Doctor Schormann, are you all right?’

‘I am well, Matron, thank you, and ready to start my duties.’

‘Not yet, I think.’ Matron allowed herself a small smile. ‘But you’re well enough to go back to your own quarters whenever you wish. As long as you let Doctor Pensch keep an eye on you.’ She moved down the ward, but Doctor Pensch lingered by Peter’s bed.

‘Ja, mein Freund, wie geht’s
?’

‘Well, Wolfgang.’ Peter kept his voice steady. ‘Well enough to get out of this place.’

He didn’t look at Mary. There was a strange, almost angry tone in the words, but she supposed he was being careful in front of Doctor Pensch. Either that or Frank’s appearance had shaken him. She left the two men and went to the ward door to make sure Shuttleworth had gone.

He hadn’t. She watched him pace the floor in the reception area taking quick gasping drags on his cigarette. Suddenly he turned and punched the wall with his fist.

‘I just thought I’d let you know,’ Hilda Lewis took off her glasses and began cleaning them on a small white handkerchief. She looked myopically in Mary’s direction. ‘I told myself, Hilda, it’s your duty to tell Sister Howarth
what these two are saying about her, so I have. It was just a good thing there was no one else around, there’s not many in this place as discreet as me, if I say so myself.’ She wound the wire of her spectacles around her ears and adjusted the nosepiece. Giving Mary such a sympathetic smile that Mary was tempted to slap her, Nurse Lewis stood, straightening the creases in her white apron. ‘Perhaps you’ll let me know what you decide to do?’ She opened the office door. ‘These things need nipping in the bud.’

The puddles on the towpath gradually mirrored the weak dawn sky. Frank slouched against the wall under the bridge. The splash of water dropping into the oily canal and the occasional scream of a cat-fight had been the only sounds during his long wait. He heard her on the gravel path of the bridge above, then her light tread on the steps and threw the half-empty beer bottle into the canal where it bobbed alongside three more. Still leaning, he uncrossed his ankles and shifted his feet so his good leg took his weight.

Then he pushed one shoulder off the blackened stone and swung around the corner to face her. ‘You just won’t be told, will you?’

Through the light drizzle of rain, Mary saw the flushing of anger in Frank’s upturned face, the bloodshot eyes. Oh God, no. She stopped, watching him warily. The iron handrail, fastened to the wall, was cold and wet under her fingers. ‘What are you doing here?’

He raised one leg, placed his foot alongside hers on the step and pushed his face towards hers. ‘I’m waiting for you.’ He prodded his finger at her chest. ‘I hear you’re in love?’ He emphasised his words with five more pokes of his forefinger.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Mary stepped off the last step and tried to push past him, suppressing the rising panic in her throat. ‘Get out of the way.’ Shifting closer, he grabbed hold of the end of the rail, trapping her against the wall. She glared up at him smelling the beer fumes on his breath. She turned to go back up the steps but he put his other arm past her, his hand flat on the stones. ‘Get out of the way, Frank.’ She kept her voice low, strong; determined not to let her fear show. ‘If you don’t let me past I’ll tell Patrick.’

‘I don’t care about your fucking brother. He’ll get his soon enough, just you wait and see.’

‘Let me pass.’ Mary forced herself to sound angry.

‘How about I go and see the Camp Commandant? You’ll be in big trouble then. That bastard’ll be transported to Canada.’ He rocked forward. ‘I can do that … no trouble, don’t think I won’t. And you … everybody will know about you … Mary Howarth … the fraternizer … the collaborator.’

‘Oh, don’t be so stupid.’

Mary shoved his arm and he stumbled against her. Her head jerked backwards and struck the rough surface of the slimy stone. She felt the burst of sharp pain and when she opened her eyes she was dizzy, the pale sunlight, breaking through the clouds and glistening on the wet leaves above, blurred, cleared and blurred again.

Frank regained his balance and grabbed her wrist.
She dug her nails into his flesh, trying to prise away his fingers, but he was too strong and he pulled her under the bridge. Using one arm to shield her body, she pressed herself against the wall and twisted away from him. His whiskers scratched as he sucked at her neck. Forcing his chin against her jaw, he searched for her lips and thrust his tongue down into her throat until she gagged. He drew back to stare at her, his breathing rapid, flecks of spittle in the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re my girl,’ he said, teeth gritted and forcing his arm behind her, crushed her against him. ‘It’s about time you learned that.’

‘Let me go.’ Her arm was still trapped between them. She tried to dig her elbow into his stomach but he was too close, so she thrust the heel of her hand upwards into his jaw, pushing his head backwards. He moved to free himself and brought his forehead down on to the bridge of her nose.

Mary heard the crack inside her head and the sudden pain brought tears. Without a sound she slumped against him, blood streamed over her mouth and chin and she swallowed, choked, as he tightened his grip on her waist, almost lifting her off her feet. Her head flopped back, her blood spraying over Frank’s chest. ‘Get off me.’ The words were spat out along with the metallic salty taste of her blood that made her retch.

He didn’t speak. The canal lapped against the banking. One of the bottles disappeared with a plop. In the distance a dog barked and a car passed on the road above them. The sounds were barely distinguishable through the rushing sound in Mary’s ears.

He pressed his hips hard against hers and pushed her cape aside, ripping the buttons off the bodice of her
uniform and pulling it down over her shoulders. Her arms were trapped. Pushing his thumbs under the straps of her brassiere and petticoat, he pulled them out of the way and grabbed her breasts.

Mary gasped in pain. ‘No.’ She brought her knee up and, for a moment, his leg gave way and he cursed, viciously pinching one nipple. She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted her head from side to side; she didn’t want to look at his face so close to hers. The pins that fastened her cap to her hair snapped on the stones. The skin on the side of her face scraped across the stones on the wall.

Mary thought she heard the crunch of footsteps on the bridge and lifting her head yelled, ‘Help! Please, help me.’ The scream echoed along the water and was choked off as he held his forearm against her throat. Seizing her between the legs, he moved his hand over her stomach and grabbed the waistband of her camiknickers. The material split along the seam and they slid down to Mary’s ankles. ‘No!’ She fought to free her arms, as the bodice of her uniform cut into her skin.

Using his head and shoulders to hold her, he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, covering her body with his. Mary struggled, her face squashed against him and fresh blood gushed from her nose again. She cried out, ‘Get off me,’ light-headed with pain, but Frank ignored her and, balancing himself, he stood on his stronger leg and used his other knee to force her legs apart. He plunged first one, then all his fingers deep inside her.

‘Come on, Mary, enjoy it,’ he panted. His sweat mingled with her blood, her tears.

‘Get off! Stop it … Frank, please … no!’ The sickening rush of sound, the flashes of bright light and blackness
consumed her: she was going to faint. Her feet slid sideways and with one heave Frank grasped her buttocks, lifted her so he could enter her and thrust upwards. She cried out, the pain bringing a fleeting bitter recollection of Peter’s gentleness. Seconds later, Frank groaned and shuddered.

Then he was gone. Mary was barely aware that someone was gently laying her on the path, cradling her head and brushing aside the rain-drenched strands of hair from her face. Eyes still closed, she rolled on to her side and drew up her legs, wrapping her arms around them. As though from a distance she heard the crunch of footsteps, the sound of blows, and then Frank’s shout, ‘You! You f–’

Somewhere behind her Mary sensed more movement and then someone spat; a great gathering and explosion of phlegm that reminded her of her father. There was a loud thud, a wheezing expulsion of breath followed by smaller duller sounds, each followed by gasps until finally there was a loud splash. Mary tried to open her eyes but it was too much effort. She lay still and listened to the thrashing of water, the choking and spluttering. Someone was struggling in the canal but the tiniest movement, the smallest shift, caused a spasm of pain that took her own breath so she lay still and waited and heard Frank’s voice again.

‘Bastard.’

So it was Frank in the water. His voice was high and thin, Mary could tell he was frightened. Nearby the short quick breaths of the man, Mary was sure it was a man, gradually evened out.

Frank again, gulping for air. ‘I can’t …’ There was almost a rhythm to the splashing now as though he was
treading water but then there was silence.

Mary’s eyelids flickered. She tilted her head back and saw a pair of black boots before the light caused a spasm of pain behind her eyes. Whoever was by her moved quickly away from the shelter of the bridge. She heard the squelch of mud, a snap of a branch, the return of footsteps and then, all at once, more thrashing in the canal. The man, yes it was definitely a man, knelt by her and there was a swish of leaves. Mary was splattered with drops of rain.

Frank was screaming now, ‘I can’t swim, I can’t swim,’ over and over again, each cry cut off by watery choking. And then, ‘Bastard.’ The angry outburst must have left his lungs empty because he sank each time he spat out the word, ‘Bastard.’ Mary imagined the blackness waiting each time for him, each time lasting a fraction of a second longer than before. She heard him the last time he broke the surface. ‘Bastard,’ he coughed. And then he was quiet.

Mary lay motionless, the pain hitting her simultaneously across her cheekbones and between her legs. Sounds came and went in waves; shouts, boots scrabbling on loose stones, the splash of water, voices. Someone knelt by the side of her, tried to hold her. ‘No.’ She flailed her arms, squeezed her eyelids tight and waited until the darkness took her to an unreachable place.