Where the Heart Is (17 page)

‘A tie? What do I need a tie for?’ Lou demanded, but the nurse didn’t answer her. Instead she was plumping up extra pillows and putting them behind Lou’s back so that she was forced to sit up in bed almost bolt upright, before whisking away her old pyjamas and then removing the screens.

Lou didn’t have long to wait to discover what all the fuss was about. The nurse had barely disappeared in the direction of the sluice room when
Sister reappeared, standing formally to attention at the entrance to the ward, and then saluting as the doors opened and a several people came in, including the MO, the senior WAAF officer, and the base’s C-in-C, along with two other men, one of them in RAF uniform, and the other … the other was surely the most immediately recognisable man in the country, his familiar cigar clamped in his mouth, his bald head shining beneath the ward lights, bringing into the ward with him an air of energy and determination. Winston Churchill. The man whose stirring speeches had brought the whole country hope in its darkest moments. Now Lou was glad of the hard pillows stiffening her spine. Automatically as the party approached her bed, she saluted, only dropping her hand and arm when her own commanding officer ordered, ‘At ease.’

It was the Prime Minister who spoke next, turning to the C-in-C, speaking in that famous voice, which sent a thrill of disbelief through her that this wonderful man, a hero to the whole nation, should be here at her bedside. If only Sasha could have been with her to share in this moment.

‘Well, Commander, this is heart-stirring news indeed to learn that one of the many young women who obeyed the call to serve her country has comported herself with such quick-thinking and bravery, not just saving another’s life, but showing that spirit that I have always said will enable us to defeat our enemies.’

Then to Lou’s astonishment the Prime Minister held out his hand to her. Lou stared at it, for a second too transfixed with awe and disbelief to do anything,
until a timely warning cough from her commanding officer had her extending her own hand so that it could be shaken by the Prime Minister.

‘Very well done, young lady. You are a credit to Halton and to the service.’

Lou’s ‘visitors’ had gone, the pillows had been removed, and the nurse, far more ready to talk now than she had been earlier, was agog with what had happened.

‘Just fancy, the Prime Minister asking to see you, ‘cos of him hearing about what you did, and not just the Prime Minister, but the head of Bomber Command as well.’

So that was Sir Arthur Harris who had been with the Prime Minister, the Head of Bomber Command himself!

Of course Lou couldn’t help but bask in the glory of what had happened. A constant stream of visitors, having heard in the way of such things about the august visitation to her bedside, were prepared to brave the wrath of Sister, who astonishingly, and in direct contradiction of her normal
modus operandi,
was nowhere to be seen when these small groups of uniformed Waafs peered eagerly into the ward and then made a concerted dash to Lou’s bed. Turning a blind eye to the rules on this scale was unheard of, and Lou, as much as her visitors, made the most of it. Time was hanging heavily on Lou’s hands now that she was a convalescent, and the companionship of the other girls was very welcome, although she did begin to tire
of saying truthfully, ‘There isn’t much to tell, honestly.’

‘You mean to say that Winnie didn’t sit down and discuss strategy with you or confide his plans to you?’ Betty, who had taken up an almost permanent post at Lou’s bedside, teased, rescuing her from the ever-persistent question when it had been asked for the umpteenth time.

It was only when her own special pals had been there for over an hour, Betty, Ruby and Ellen all sitting on her bed, and just after Ruby had asked her hopefully, ‘You haven’t had any more parcels of those Fry’s Chocolate Cream bars, have you?’ that a nurse appeared, warning them all, ‘Sister’s on her way and there’ll be a devil of a fuss if she finds you lot here.’

Watching the swift disappearance of WAAF uniforms and the smiling faces of her friends, Lou felt her own spirits sink a little. It had been such fun having them here. She missed their company, and she missed her training as well, she admitted.

She said as much later when the MO came round to check the wound on her leg whilst the dressing was being removed and a fresh one put in place.

‘The sergeant in charge of your workshop isn’t going to want you back until you’re fully fit and can stand on that leg properly,’ was Sister’s stern comment after the MO had gone, having announced that Lou was to start exercising in the gym on her return from her compassionate leave, which was to start in two days’ time.

‘But if I can go in the gym then I could at least go and watch what Sergeant Benson is teaching everyone,’ Lou wheedled.

When they had visited her, the other girls on her course had been talking about their progress and the ‘practical work’ they were about to start doing on real planes in the hangars, and Lou desperately wanted to be a part of that. She wasn’t going to say anything in case it made her look soppy, but the Prime Minister’s visit and what he had said had doubled her determination to do her bit and to do it well. What she wanted, Lou recognised, was to be the best WAAF mechanic there was, and she couldn’t do that stuck here in bed whilst the other girls were getting on with practising what they had learned.

‘You’ll be no use to Sergeant Benson or anyone else until that leg’s been passed fit for duty,’ was Sister’s unsympathetic response.

The visits from her chums, plus Sister’s comments, and of course the heady words of praise from Winnie himself, which were still floating inside her head, fired Lou with determination to get back to her training.

As she was the only ‘poorly’ occupant of the ward, it was easy enough for her to wait until Sister was doing her regular round on the RAF ward, and the nurse on duty was out of the way, to scramble out of bed and then, using the bed itself and the chair to one side of it, attempt to walk properly.

Normally the only time she had been allowed out of bed had been under Sister’s eagle eye, when intially she had been permitted to hop her way to the ablutions with her injured leg bent and a nurse’s arm to learn on, and then more latterly to do a turn up and down the ward using crutches.

Being in the WAAF had taught Lou a lot; perhaps
most importantly of all it had taught her to take responsibility for her own actions. Thus whilst the old Lou would have immediately ignored the risk of additional damage to her injured leg, and perhaps even have relished the fuss her recklessness would have caused, much as she wanted to be properly back on her feet, the Lou she had become wasn’t going to risk putting her recovery back by being reckless, ‘showing off’ as Lou herself now thought of it.

Instead, carefully testing her way and holding on to the back of the chair, with the wall behind her she tried to straighten her leg, stopping when pain gripped her weak muscles, and then cautiously trying again.

By the time she had finally got her foot flat on the floor, sweat was dampening her palms and her leg muscles felt as though they were on fire, but a quick look down over her shoulder assured her that her wound hadn’t opened up and started to bleed, so using the chair as a support she started to move slowly forward.

The pain in her leg was excruciating and the healing burns on her hands and arms were stinging like mad, but when she finally reached the end of her bed, Lou felt light-headed with triumph and delight.

Her delight, though, quickly vanished when just as she was turning round she heard Sister’s voice calling sharply, ‘Nurse!’

Of course she was put straight back in bed, and the MO sent for, right in the middle of his tea. Sister left Lou in no doubt that she was in disgrace, as she pointed out severely that if Lou had fallen on the
ward’s shiny linoleum floor, it wouldn’t just be her wound she would have to recover from, it would be a broken bone as well.

Bearing all that in mind, Lou quailed a little as, later, she watched Sister Wilson coming towards her, her cape on, obviously ready to change shifts with the night sister.

No doubt she was going to be in for another drubbing, Lou thought warily, but instead of telling her off, to her astonishment Sister announced crisply, ‘From tomorrow morning you are to have two separate one-hour exercise periods a day, during which you will have one of my nurses in attendance and I shall be watching you to make sure that you do not try to run before you can walk.’

A thin smile touched Sister’s mouth as though she was pleased with her own joke, emboldening Lou to say humbly, ‘Thank you, Sister.’

‘It is not me you should thank for the fact that you are able to undertake such exercise with two legs, Campion, it is Alexander Fleming, and the new drug that has resulted from his research.’

When Lou looked blank, Sister explained, ‘Without the injections of penicillin you received after the operation to remove the piece of metal from the fuselage from your leg, it is more than likely that you could have succumbed to blood poisoning, which in turn would have meant the amputation of your leg. Now that you are aware of that I trust you will treat the limb that Professor Fleming’s research has allowed you to retain with a little more respect.’

‘Yes, Sister,’ was all that Lou could manage to say.

‘Can you see Lou yet, Grace?’ Anxiously Jean craned her neck to search the faces of the mass of people on the platform of Lime Street Station.

There must be nearly as many people in uniform as there had been when she and Sam had come here to say goodbye to Luke when he had left for France right at the beginning of the war, Jean felt sure. Only now, of course, it wasn’t just young men in army uniform, uncertain of themselves and new to war, but young men and women, in a variety of uniforms–so many, in fact, that Jean was worried that she might not be able to pick her daughter out amongst the sea of faces.

‘Lou will find us, I’m sure, Mum,’ Grace tried to reassure her. ‘We said we’d meet her here, near to the tea stand.’ Privately Grace had anxieties of her own for her younger sister. Being a nurse herself she had read between the lines of Lou’s nonchalant statement: ‘I shall probably still be on crutches, but they don’t hold me up very much.’ She worried about just how badly Lou had been hurt.

The official letter her parents had received, and
which her mother had shown her and Seb this morning when they had arrived in Liverpool ready to welcome Lou home, had not told them much other than that Lou had been injured ‘performing an act of bravery’ but that her life was not in any danger.

Rather irritatingly, when she had looked at Seb for enlightenment of this military phrasing, instead of returning her look he had exchanged very male glances with her father.

‘It’s all very well Lou writing to say that we aren’t to worry and that she’s almost as good as new, I shan’t be easy in my mind until I’ve seen for myself. I just hope that she hasn’t been making a bad situation worse by acting daft and taking risks,’ Jean sighed, able to confide in her eldest daughter now that Grace herself was grown up and married.

‘I don’t think she’ll be allowed to do that, Mum,’ Grace comforted her. ‘Not if the WAAF is anything like being a nurse.’

‘Well, that’s another thing, Grace. Knowing what Lou’s like and how she only has to hear the word “no”, or be told to do something, for her to do her utmost to do just the opposite, I can’t help worrying about her being in uniform. Naturally, me and your dad were against it when we found out that she’d joined up, but we agreed that she’d have to take her medicine and stick with it–well, at least that’s what your dad said–but that doesn’t mean either of us wants her to be unhappy.’

‘As if anyone would ever think you wanted any
of us to be other than happy, Mum,’ Grace smiled, slipping her arm though Jean’s.

Grace loved every member of her family, but in her opinion her mother was just the best mother in the world.

‘I’m surprised that Sasha didn’t want to come with us,’ Grace continued.

‘Well, I think she was afraid she’d be too upset and go and make a fool of herself. She’s not said a lot since we heard the news, but you can see in her face how she really feels, and how worried she is. I haven’t said too much to her, because the last thing me and your dad want is for her to go blaming herself for Lou joining up and then this happening …’

‘Mum! Grace hissed, nudging her mother in the ribs. ‘There she is with that young RAF chap.’

Jean’s heart seemed to turn over as she focused on where Grace was indicating and she saw her daughter.

After the initial shock of seeing Lou on crutches, an unexpected surge of pride overwhelmed Jean, bringing sharp tears to her eyes.

That was her Lou, that surely taller, and definitely more shapely, although still very slender young woman, whose slimmed-down face, with its high cheekbones and delicately shaped jaw, gave her face a beauty Jean had never expected to see in one of the twins, who had inherited what she always thought of as her own rather ordinary looks.

It was plain from the manner in which Lou was chatting to the young man, who seemed to be
carrying her case, how relaxed and at ease she was in male company–another change Jean had not been prepared for.

Fresh pride filled her. Watching Lou, Jean saw a young woman in uniform who was attractive and confident, and whose company was apparently courted by young men but whose manner towards them was so free of flirtatiousness and artifice that it would gladden any mother’s heart.

As yet Lou hadn’t seen them but, as though she was sharing her mother’s thoughts, Grace squeezed Jean’s arm and said huskily, ‘Oh my, doesn’t she look grand?’ And then before Jean could say anything Grace raised her hand and called out, ‘Coooee, Lou, over here.’

Although Jean would never have expected Grace’s voice to carry through the crowds thronging the station, somehow or other it must have done, because Lou turned in their direction, a wide smile curling her mouth as she waved back, and then turned to say something to the young man with her.