Lizzie's War (22 page)

‘Thank goodness you've come, Lizzie. Dad has gone to fetch Beth and Mum is in a bit of a state, crying and saying it's her fault – and my two have been screaming their heads off. If you could perhaps stay with Mum while I take these two home, please? I need to get them fed and in their beds and then I'll come back if I can get my neighbour to sit with them.'

‘Yes, of course I will be only too happy to sit with your mum, Dottie. I'm so sorry about Mary.'

Dottie's face crumpled; Mary was her twin and special to her. ‘It's rotten luck. They tell us she'd been out drinking and fell into the river – at first there was some story of suicide, but the police have since told us it was an accident. She was with some students; they were all drunk and several fell in, but Mary drowned.'

‘That is so distressing for all of you.'

‘Mary has a habit of upsetting people,' Dottie said and looked both upset and angry. ‘Dad should be back soon. I went to Beth's and told her but she wouldn't come for me so Dad said he would fetch her.'

‘It's the best thing he could do…'

‘What do you mean?'

Lizzie hesitated, then, ‘Didn't you think Beth seemed different?'

‘A bit, but I didn't notice much – I was too upset about Mary to notice. What do you mean, different?'

‘It's not for me to say…' Lizzie hesitated uncertainly, but she was saved from replying when Mrs Court came through from the kitchen to ask who had called. She looked pale and her eyes were red from crying, but she managed a wan smile when she saw Lizzie.

‘Thank you for coming. We were going to let you know, but there's so much to think about…'

‘Yes, I know. It isn't easy arranging things when you lose someone you love.'

‘I'm going now that Lizzie is here,' Dottie said. ‘I've got to look after the kids, Mum – but I'll come back later if I can.'

‘No, Dottie; you look after your children. I'll be all right when your Dad and Beth get back…'

‘Right, I'm off then – thanks, Lizzie.'

As Beth's sister departed to collect her children, Lizzie followed Mrs Court into the warm kitchen. It was as clean and tidy as ever, the smell of a casserole coming from the oven.

‘Dottie made that for me,' she told Lizzie. ‘She's not a bad little cook – both she and Beth make a good pie, but Mary…' a little sob escaped her. ‘Mary never took to cooking much. She preferred to sew…'

Sitting down at the table, she bent her head and covered her face with her hands, the sobs breaking from her. Lizzie hovered awkwardly, not knowing whether to put an arm about her or not.

‘I'll put the kettle on,' she said in a practical tone and set about filling the kettle and getting the tray ready with Mrs Court's blue and white china.

‘There are some biscuits I made in the tin,' Mrs Court had recovered herself by the time she had everything prepared. ‘Help yourself, Lizzie. I might eat one. I haven't had anything since a slice of toast this morning and I couldn't eat most of that…'

‘It is a terrible time for all of you, but I know you loved Mary.'

‘Not as much as I do Beth and her twins,' Mrs Court said, surprising her. ‘I think that's why I feel so guilty. ‘Perhaps if I'd looked after her better instead of telling her to pull herself together when she lost the baby…'

‘You were right. Left to sink into herself, Mary might have ended in a mental institution. None of you would have wanted that.'

‘I thought she was doing so well. She said she'd made friends – her last letter sounded almost cheerful… and now she's gone.'

‘Perhaps it was just an accident,' Lizzie suggested. ‘She was out with friends and they were all drunk – she didn't take her life on purpose…'

‘Didn't she?' Mrs Court asked unhappily. ‘What was she doing with those girls in that boat?'

‘I suppose she wanted some fun…'

‘Mary was a nurse. She should have been behaving herself– not out getting drunk with friends on the river, whoever they were. She told me the wards were overflowing with wounded…'

‘Perhaps that's why she needed to let off steam,' Lizzie suggested. ‘She would have seen some terrible things, men badly wounded – and it must have made her think of her husband. Was she with a man or girlfriends?'

‘Both I think,' Mrs Court said and took one of the biscuits that Lizzie had pushed in front of her. ‘I believe the man was a soldier on leave after being wounded, but the girls were students. I'm not sure how it happened – whether there were two boats or one.'

‘I expect it will all come out at the inquest,' Lizzie said. ‘I am so sorry, Mrs Court – I wish it hadn't happened…'

‘Yes, but it has and I blame myself,' she said and then a little wistfully, ‘I wish you'd call me Mum as you used to, Lizzie.'

‘I wasn't sure you wanted me to anymore,' Lizzie said. ‘We don't see each other much these days…'

‘No, we don't and perhaps that's my fault too, but after Beth got married you seemed self-sufficient and I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come round…you've got your housekeeper now…'

‘I've taken Hatty into my family because I hated the idea of living alone and I knew looking after three children was too much for you,' Lizzie said. ‘I hoped that Beth might come back to the workshops at least part-time after a while, though I should've known Bernie wouldn't let her…'

Mrs Court stared at her. ‘I've never known anyone stop Beth doing what she wanted before. She'd argue with me and her Dad until we ran out of breath – but she seems quiet and withdrawn and she hasn't been here for weeks. When I went round last time, she didn't seem to want to ask me in.'

‘She wouldn't have me in at all, but she did tell me her husband was a bully,' Lizzie said and hesitated, then, ‘If I'm wrong I'm sorry – but I think Bernie is hurting her…'

‘Oh no!' Mrs Court drew a sobbing breath. ‘So I was right – he did hit her. She denied it to me, but she didn't look me in the eyes – my poor little girl…'

‘We've got to help her,' Lizzie said. ‘If her father gets her here you should tell her you can't manage without her and perhaps she'll stay here for a few days, at least until after…'

‘The funeral?' Mrs Court nodded, making an effort to be brave. ‘Yes, I'll try, Lizzie. Perhaps one of us can get her to tell us what's going on.'

‘It might be best not to ask, just let her tell you when she's ready. You know Beth – she can't bear fussing…'

‘I'll try not to ask her, but I can't help being upset, Lizzie. I kept telling her to marry that beast and her father thought it was a good idea too.'

‘I'm going to try to help her,' she said and as Mrs Court looked at her hopefully, she shook her head. ‘I'm not sure if there's anything I can do except listen if she decides to talk to me and then ask her to come back to live with me. There will always be a room for her is still empty and she's always welcome.'

‘But will he let her leave him?' Beth's mother asked. ‘I knew someone like that years ago – he was married to a friend of mine. Shirley was such a bright pretty girl until she married Fred Benson, but after a few years of his bullying she let herself go and her children were neglected. In the end she died of some fever or other – at least that's what the doctors said, but I think her heart was broken.' She gave a little cry of despair. ‘I asked her once why she stayed with him and she just shook her head and looked miserable – I don't want that to happen to my Beth…'

‘It won't,' Lizzie said fiercely. ‘I promise you we'll get her away from him somehow, Mum. Beth is my friend – my sister – and I don't want her to spend the rest of her life with a bully.'

Mrs Court got up to look at the casserole in the oven. Lizzie washed the cups up and was looking round for something more she could do when the door opened and Mr Court entered carrying the twins. Beth followed behind with some bags bulging with their things.

‘Bernie was home and he told me to bring Beth round for a few days,' he said, looking at his daughter oddly. ‘Beth kept saying she couldn't come but Bernie soon set her right – told her it was her duty, so here she is.'

Matt scampered off to explore as soon as he was set down and grabbed his granny by the legs. She bent down to tousle his hair and then picked him up as he clamoured for more attention.

Beth wasn't looking at anyone. She just left the kitchen and took her bags and the children's things upstairs. Lizzie hesitated for a moment and then went after her. Beth was unpacking and didn't look round until Lizzie spoke.

‘What's wrong, Beth?' she asked softly. ‘This isn't like you, love.'

‘You have no idea what you're talking about,' Beth said without looking at her. ‘Don't feel sorry for me, Lizzie. I don't need it.'

Beth was hurting inside and she was striking out in defence. Lizzie took a deep breath then, ‘I know you well enough to know something is very wrong. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to – but if you decide you do need to talk, I'm always here for you, Beth.'

Beth didn't answer and Lizzie walked away. She didn't want to quarrel with Beth, who was clearly uptight and unwilling to talk about what was upsetting her. Until she was ready to do so there was nothing anyone could do.

Lizzie sensed that someone was following her that evening the instant she left work. It was the first time she'd left work at night since her visit to Jack, but obviously no one had done anything about her shadow, because he was still there. Her heart was racing and she felt a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck, but controlled the need to look round. If someone was trying to scare her, the worst thing she could do was to show fear. Even when she heard the footsteps behind her, she forced herself not to quicken her pace, but she couldn't help but cry out when someone caught her arm and a voice hissed in her ear.

‘I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little bitch. You've upset someone and he wants you dealt with…'

Lizzie gave a scream of fear despite her determination to remain calm. The man was trying to drag her into a dark alley and she knew if he succeeded he would certainly carry out his threats. She had to fight back or she was in terrible trouble. Kicking out at his shins, she made contact and heard him swear, but he circled her throat with his arm, pressing back so hard that she almost choked and her scream was hardly a whisper. With all her strength she struggled and kicked, managing to wrench free and stumbling away from him, gasping for breath.

He lunged at her again and then suddenly she heard a shout and pounding feet and a large body dressed in khaki threw himself at her attacker. Lizzie drew back, watching the struggle, which was short-lived as the soldier who'd come to her rescue found himself lying on his back on the ground. From somewhere near at hand came the sound of a police whistle. The would-be assassin sent Lizzie a look that warned he wasn't finished with her before scrambling to his feet and disappearing into the alley into which he'd tried to drag her moments earlier.

Lizzie moved towards the young soldier, giving a little cry of distress as she saw that there was blood on his hand, dripping down from a wound to his arm. For a moment she thought it might be a fatal wound but he muttered a curse and struggled to his feet. She moved towards him, feeling anxious.

‘He hurt you,' she said. ‘I'm so sorry. I can't thank you enough for what you did for me, sir.'

‘Sergeant Jones – Bryan,' he said and gave her a lopsided grin. ‘The bastard had a knife or I'd have got him for you…' He looked towards the alley down which her attacker had fled. ‘I thought I heard a police whistle?'

‘So did I but there doesn't seem to be a police officer to go with it.'

‘Never is when you need one,' the soldier said with a grin and then grunted and clutched at his arm in pain.

‘Let me help you,' Lizzie said, more concerned for him than herself at that moment. ‘I can take you back to the office and bind it up for you or help you get to the nearest hospital?'

‘No hospitals,' he said. ‘I've seen enough of them recently to last me a lifetime, miss…'

‘I'm Lizzie Winters,' she said. ‘Let me take you back to where I work and we'll have a look at your arm.'

‘Thanks,' he said. ‘I don't want to go home with blood drippin' or me Ma will have a fit. I've only been out of hospital a few days.'

‘It's my fault,' Lizzie said. ‘I should've been more careful…'

‘After your bag, was he?'

Lizzie nodded. The soldier had his own problems and couldn't be caught up in hers. If the knife had struck his chest instead of his arm, he could have died and Lizzie would hate anyone else to suffer because of her. Ed was about to lock up when Lizzie led the young soldier inside and told him to sit down in the kitchen while she went for her first aid kit. Her friend followed her to the office as she took the box from the drawer of her desk.

‘What happened, Lizzie?'

‘My shadow came out of the shadows and tried to drag me into an alley. Sergeant Jones stopped him and got a knife in his arm as thanks for his gallantry. He didn't want a doctor, so I brought him back to patch him up.

‘Give me that,' Ed grunted angrily and took the first aid kit from her.

Lizzie gave it to him without a struggle and went to fetch cold water in a bowl. She helped the soldier out of his battledress jacket and saw the blood had soaked through his shirt. Ed took over and washed away the blood, revealing a nasty cut that was bleeding a lot but didn't go too deep. He shook his head as he pressed a cold damp pad of linen to the wound and held it for a moment or two, and then looked again. The blood had slowed to a trickle and he applied a pad of fresh linen and bound the soldier's arm tightly.