The Bad Penny (23 page)
Telling himself that he was unlikely to find another young woman behind whom he could hide whilst he watched, with increasing annoyance, Patty’s growing friendship with her partner, Darky agreed that he and Miss Halligan would have another dance ‘later’ and made his way back to his secluded corner. I won’t wait much longer, he told himself. There’s no alcohol here and I could do with a drink after hoisting Miss Halligan around the floor. Yes, I’ll quit this place soon.
When the orchestra struck up again, several of the men who had been standing idly on the opposite side of the dance floor converged on the girls. Patty knew all her companions’ names by now. There was Ellen of course, slim and energetic with curly brown hair and laughing eyes; then there was Murchison, the one who had admired her dress; Beckett, a lively redhead; Matthews, a tall buxom girl with glasses and freckles and easily the best dancer; and Pringle, a plump and giggly girl with a strident voice and acne. She was astonished at how easily they had got to know one another, for in all the years she had worked at the hospital before going on to the district she had never made a real friend. She supposed, now, that it had been her own fault. She had been so keen to do well in her chosen profession that she had resolutely refused to socialise with her fellow nurses. This had made them think her a ‘dull stick’ and had led to Patty’s never really getting to know any of them.
Of course, on the district, fraternisation was doubly difficult. Because of the volume of work, free time was precious and used for such tasks as shopping, cleaning one’s home and, in Patty’s case at least, visiting the only person in the area she knew well: Mrs Ruskin. She met other midwives when they were called to the hospital for meetings but that was strictly work, and though Patty knew that many of the girls often went off after such meetings for a cup of tea and a bun, she had never accepted invitations to join them.
I’ve missed an awful lot, Patty concluded, as the girls in her group began to be taken on to the floor by various young men. I’ve been really foolish but I’ll know better in future. Why, Ellen has not even moved in with me yet and already she’s made a difference to my life.
As she pondered, Patty’s eyes had rested, without really seeing him, on the figure of a tall young man who was approaching their group. She guessed that he was coming across to ask one of the girls for a dance and was astonished when he stopped in front of her. ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance, miss?’ he said. He had dark hair, slicked back from a broad forehead, and spoke with a local accent. When he caught her eye, he smiled rather shyly.
‘I – I’m not a very good d-dancer,’ Patty stammered. ‘I’m a beginner really. Are you sure …?’
Next to her, Matthews giggled. ‘If you’d like to change your mind, chuck, I’ll give you a turn round the floor,’ she said, addressing the young man. ‘Though Patty’s doin’ all right for a beginner.’
The young man blushed fiery red but continued to stare down at Patty, looking so miserable that she took pity on him and got to her feet. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she muttered, as he led her on to the floor. ‘My pal’s a really good dancer, an expert you could say. But I’ll do my best.’
‘Well, I’m norra great dancer meself, not like them fillum stars … John Gilbert and them … but if we both do our best, mebbe we’ll get by,’ the young man said as he took her, somewhat gingerly, in his arms. ‘I hope I won’t tread on your toes,’ he added, looking down at Patty’s feet in their sturdy sandals.
For the first time since he had asked her to dance, Patty smiled. ‘I’m likelier to tread on yours, and if I do, you’ll know it,’ she told him. ‘And who’s John Gilbert when he’s at home?’
Her partner was holding her a little away from him so she was able to look up into his face, and she saw his astonishment. ‘He’s a fillum star and he dances real good,’ he said. ‘Don’t you go to the cinema, miss? Or are you a nurse, like the others? I’ve not seen you with them before but we all know the nurses; lovely girls, every one of them. Why, you’d think with all the running round they do that they wouldn’t have no energy left for dancin’, but they quicksteps and waltzes wi’ the best of ’em.’
‘Yes, I’m a nurse,’ Patty said, rather guardedly. For some reason she felt reluctant to tell a perfect stranger that she was a midwife. She decided to tell a part of the truth, however, and added: ‘But I’m on the district, so I don’t have much time to myself and I don’t mix a lot with the other nurses, as a rule. What do you do?’
The young man told her that he was a clerk in an insurance office and added that his name was Albert Kennedy. He said this with such a question in his tone that Patty realised she must respond in kind. ‘I’m Patty Peel,’ she said rather gruffly. ‘Do you live round here, Mr Kennedy?’
Mr Kennedy replied that he was only a tram ride away, and by the time the dance ended Patty felt a good deal more self-confident. Mr Kennedy might not be the greatest dancer in the world, but once he had got over his initial shyness he had been a pleasant and unexacting partner. Despite her fears, Patty had managed to follow him without either treading on him or being trodden on and she felt a little surge of satisfaction as he led her back to her seat, thanked her formally and said that he would ask her for another dance when they had both had a cool drink, for the heat of the day still lingered.
For the rest of the evening, Patty danced with everyone who asked her to do so. She was soon able to tell those who could dance with flair from those who simply plodded round the floor, and enjoyed dancing with the former a good deal more than with the latter. She also noticed that the really good-looking men often had not bothered to learn to dance properly whereas the plainer ones seemed to enjoy dancing for its own sake. She mentioned this to Ellen and her friend laughed and said: ‘You’re an observant one, you are! Now you mention it, you’re quite right. Handsome fellers don’t bother much with the twiddly bits because they know they can get a girl so long as they can do the basic steps, but the plain ones take pains. I’d sooner dance wi’ a feller who knew what he was doin’ than one who trampled all over me feet, even if he looked like Gary Cooper.’
During the interval, the girls went to the bar and bought soft drinks which they carried out of the dance hall, first having the back of their hands stamped so that the management would know they had paid their entrance fee and let them back in. It was cooler out here, the stars bright in the dark sky, and the girls perched on a handy wall and chatted amongst themselves. Patty was surprised and amused at how quickly the talk became nursing talk. They discussed various sisters, the wards they ran and the patients on them, and Patty realised that this must be how the young men had discovered the girls’ occupations, since she imagined that no one would volunteer the information. She had often heard it said, when she was doing her training, that for some reason men considered nurses to be ‘fast’. She supposed it must be because nurses saw their patients in pyjamas or nightdresses – or even in nothing at all – and were thus presumed to be willing to do a little more than give their escorts a goodnight kiss. She herself had not told anyone she was a nurse, apart from Mr Kennedy, who had guessed at her occupation after a glance at her companions.
As the evening drew to a close, Patty thought that all her new friends had behaved in an exemplary fashion. They had danced with a great many young men but had not encouraged any of their partners to return to join their group. Other girls in the dance hall had not acted so sensibly. There had been shrieks of laughter and a good deal of horseplay, and Patty had also noticed that some of the young men had used a dance as an excuse to fondle their partners. If the girls did not object, some went further, though not on the premises. This had happened outside, during the interval, and Patty had been shocked by it and truly grateful that the girls she was with had kept themselves to themselves.
‘Last waltz,’ Ellen said cheerfully as the orchestra struck up once more and the lights dimmed. ‘Whoever you dance the last waltz with may expect to walk you home, but just tell him you’re with us – unless you like him a lot. If that’s the case you can go off with him, but between ourselves I wouldn’t advise it. Meself and the rest of the girls have been coming to dances here for months and we know who’s decent and respectable and who isn’t. You’ll be safest to stick wi’ the rest of us until you’ve got a bit more experience under your belt.’
Patty agreed that this seemed sensible and accepted Mr Kennedy’s offer of the last waltz, sure that he would behave himself, and so it proved. He held her a little closer and hummed the tune to which they danced as they glided round the floor. When the music ended, he thanked her with all his customary politeness and said he hoped to see her again next week, to which Patty made a noncommittal reply. Then he hurried away from the dance floor, no doubt eager to catch his last tram, and Patty joined the queue for coats. Outside the hall once more, the girls waited by the door until the group was complete and then set off in the direction of the nurses’ home at the Royal Infirmary on Pembroke Place. Ellen was still living with the others in the nurses’ quarters, and when they reached the home Patty suddenly realised that there would be no one to accompany her to Ashfield Place. However, she spent so much time on the streets at night, in her capacity as a midwife, that she was not at all nervous. She said goodbye cheerfully to her new friends, assuring them that she did not mind the walk home and turning down Ellen’s suggestion that she and one of the other girls should accompany her.
‘Good lord, Ellen, when you’re on the district you go in and out of some dreadful areas, late at night or in the early hours, and never think twice about it,’ she said robustly. ‘I know you and I will be together most of the time whilst you’re doing your midder training, but once it’s finished and you take up a post on the district – if you do – then you’ll soon grow accustomed.’
‘Well, if you’re sure …’ Ellen said doubtfully. ‘Good night then, queen, see you tomorrer. All right if I come round in the evening? I’ll bring some of me stuff so when I come to stay I won’t have to make two journeys.’
Patty agreed to this, adding the rider that if she was out, she would tell Maggie to expect a visitor, and the two girls parted, Ellen to hurry into the nurses’ home and Patty to begin to wend her way through the dark streets.
She had just passed Holy Trinity Church on St Anne Street when she heard a commotion ahead of her. She peered in the general direction of the noise but could see nothing and, deciding it must be a late night party which had spilled on to the street, continued on her way. She was passing the dark mouth of a narrow jigger by the Drill Hall when half a dozen young men in seamen’s rig burst out of it. Several clutched beer bottles and all were swaying and probably drunk and Patty crossed the road, aware for the first time of the deterrent of a nursing uniform and a bicycle. Had she been mounted on her trusty steed, she would have either whizzed past them or taken another route, but she could scarcely do this on foot. She would just have to hope that the young men would not notice her.
Because it was such a warm night, she was carrying her navy coat over one arm, and was still wondering whether it would be wiser to stop and put it on or simply to hurry past the convivial group with her face turned away from them when she was spotted. ‘Shurrup, fellers, there’s a 1-lady presen’,’ one of the men shouted. ‘A 1-1-lovely 1-lady, beautiful as a fairy, begod!’ He came towards her, a beaming smile almost bisecting his large red face, the hand not holding a beer bottle held out towards her. ‘Wharra lovely lady! She’s goin’ to be Harry’s little friend, ain’t you, queen?’
Before Patty could think of a sufficiently crushing reply, another man came lurching towards her. He had a draggly little beard and was bald as a billiard ball but he, too, was beaming broadly. ‘L’il darlin’, acushla, querida,’ he crooned, in a broad Irish accent. ‘She’s
my
li’l girl an’ I’ll fight anyone who says different, so I will.’
The other men, jeering and shouting, were making their way up the road and ignoring what was happening behind them. The first man, clearly taking offence at the second man’s attitude, grabbed Patty by her left arm, and before she had even begun to take evasive action Baldy had seized her right elbow. ‘Less o’ that,’ the red-faced one commanded. ‘Get your filthy paws off me lickle piece of stuff.’
For answer, Baldy swung a wild fist in the general direction of Red Face, missing him completely and having to hang on to Patty in order to remain upright. Red Face laughed jeeringly and put his arm round Patty’s waist, trapping her right arm between their bodies and holding her so tightly that she could have cried with the pain of it.
‘Let me go, you vile creature,’ she gasped. She tried to kick Red Face, endeavouring to wrench her arm free from Baldy’s grip, but neither manoeuvre was successful and just as she was considering a scream – for she was beginning to feel like the wishbone between two Christmas revellers – Red Face swung a fist the size of a ham and hit Baldy squarely in the mouth. The smaller man crashed down on to the pavement, his head hitting the kerb with a sickening thud. Patty, all her nursing instincts aroused, went to go to his assistance but was prevented by her captor, who twisted her to face him, saying gloatingly: ‘Tha’s his goose cooked, me lickle princess. Now you an’ I can have a lovely time wi’out no stupid Irish git putting his oar in.’ He chuckled evilly. ‘Or anything else for that matter.’
‘Let me go, you fool; can’t you see he may be badly hurt?’ Patty said desperately. ‘I’m a nurse; if he’s concussed or if you’ve knocked his teeth down his throat …’
‘A nurse, is it?’ Red Face said. If anything, he tightened his hold. ‘Well, an’ isn’t me luck in tonight? Just you come along o’ me and leave that lickle bastard to find his own woman.’