‘No, it’s not that,’ she said again, sitting on a narrow wooden chair to one side of the desk, as Gwen took a position to Fiona’s right. Edith took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I would like … that is, Harry and I would like to get married. Quite soon.’ There. She’d said it.
Fiona nodded, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, Edith, there’s no real surprise in that. You have been engaged, what? Over two years now, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right.’ Edith was always impressed that Fiona kept track of all her charges’ personal lives as well as their professional ones. ‘Yes, we agreed it before he was posted to France, but then there was Dunkirk …’
‘And we are all extremely thankful that he made a recovery after such a terrible time for you all,’ said Gwen, leaning forward to emphasise her point.
‘Yes indeed.’ Fiona regarded Edith. ‘So I imagine you’ve come here to talk about more than your wedding plans?’
This was the moment of truth. Edith took another deep breath and plunged ahead. ‘Yes, that’s why I wanted to see you before deciding on a date or anything like that. It’s because I want to keep on nursing. Please.’ There, she had said it. Now her fate was out of her hands.
Gwen nodded slowly. ‘I see. You are aware that strictly speaking you would be expected to resign your post upon marriage? Of course you are.’
Edith twisted her hands but refused to buckle under the scrutiny. ‘I know.’
Fiona tapped her pen against the edge of the solid old desk. ‘More than one of your colleagues has left for that very reason.’
‘I know. I’m not saying I should be a special case,’ Edith rushed on, ‘but Harry and I probably won’t be able to live together anyway. He still has to have more operations even though they aren’t as serious now. A couple more to try to hide the burns on his face and to improve the movement of his damaged arm. Then he’ll be able to perform desk duties even if he can’t go back to his unit and fight any more. That could be anywhere.’
‘But if he’s going to be well enough for desk duties, he’ll be well enough to be married,’ said Fiona. ‘Is that your thinking?’
‘Sort of.’ Edith twisted her hands still tighter. ‘It’s also, I came so close to losing him – it’s made us want to waste no more time. We’d like to be together when we can, depending on where he’s posted, but also I don’t want to stop nursing, not when we’re all needed so badly. I won’t use it as an excuse to take extra leave or anything. I wouldn’t let you down. I wouldn’t,’ she added, not sure what the two senior figures were thinking. Gwen’s serious face gave no clue. Then Fiona beamed at her.
‘I can’t imagine you would,’ she said. ‘I realise that the standard procedure is – Gwen, hear me out,’ she went on, as her deputy looked as if she would interrupt. ‘Those rules were made before the war began. Circumstances have altered completely. We’ve changed the design of our uniform to accommodate the shortages – why not extend that to the scarcity of experienced nurses? I don’t want to lose you, Edith. You are a highly valuable member of our team here.’
‘Thank you.’ Edith could not quite believe she was out of the woods yet.
‘It is highly irregular,’ Gwen stated, her back ramrod straight. Then she relented. ‘Yet as Fiona says, we can ill afford to send you packing. It takes time, money and effort to recruit staff, and you have shown yourself to be extremely competent. Furthermore you know the area now and your patients and the doctors all speak well of you.’ Her face softened, a rare sight. ‘Besides, I can remember what it was like to meet somebody you are certain you wish to spend your life with. Nobody knows how long they will have together. Who are we to deny you that?’ The usually stony-faced deputy looked away, as Fiona caught her eye in sympathy.
Edith was one of the very few younger nurses who knew that beneath Gwen’s fierce carapace lay a tale of sadness and heartbreak. Her fiancé had been killed in the Great War and, to add to the sorrow, her two brothers had also died in the fighting. A generation of young men had been lost and the women left behind had been permanently marked. Edith appreciated what must be going through her mind now.
Fiona stepped into the gap, after a respectful pause. ‘Exactly. We wish you every happiness, Edith. The Banhams are a fine family altogether and they will be lucky to have you. We will count ourselves lucky to keep you. It cannot have been an easy decision to ask us and we appreciate your directness.’
Edith nodded mutely.
‘May I ask, what about children?’ Gwen said. ‘As we are being direct. Don’t glare at me, Fiona, we might as well raise the subject.’
Edith tipped her head in acknowledgement. The angle of the sun had changed and she moved a little to avoid being blinded by it. It lit occasional dust motes as they floated by the big bookcase of medical reference works.
‘We’ll take our chances and see,’ she said honestly. ‘We would both like to have children, of course. We were worried that Harry’s injuries and then all his treatment might have affected our chances but he’s asked his doctors and they say not. I know he’s had lots of new drugs and nobody can say for sure, but we’re going to hope for the best.’
‘Very well.’ Fiona put her pen down. ‘You’ll have to see how you go. I defy even you, Edith, to cycle around on one of those old bikes while heavily pregnant. I would have to advise against that.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘Meanwhile, accept our congratulations and start planning your nuptials.’
Edith smiled in relief. ‘We won’t have a big do. But that’s all to be decided anyway.’
Fiona rose. ‘Now I hate to rush you but I have a meeting to attend. Gwen, a word with you about those blasted budgets; I’ve now realised that one of our assumptions is wrong.’
Edith knew she was being dismissed and saw herself out of the office, the nerve centre of the whole building. She was delighted with the result of the meeting and could not wait to tell Harry. She loved nursing with all her being but, if it had come to making a choice, the truth was that she loved Harry more. She had been prepared to give up everything to marry him. She was heartily glad that she would not have to.
‘Everything all right, Gladys?’ Alice thought that the younger woman was looking worried.
‘Oh, you gave me a fright. I didn’t know you was there.’ Gladys swung around from where she’d been cleaning the counter in the service room. ‘Do you want a cold drink? It’s warm out there today, isn’t it?’
Alice could see that Gladys was avoiding her question and decided to bide her time. ‘That’s a good idea,’ she said, although she wasn’t really thirsty. ‘I’ll get myself a glass of water, don’t stop what you’re doing on my account.’
‘I got some lime cordial around here somewhere,’ said Gladys. ‘How about a splash of that? Bet you haven’t had any for ages.’
‘Yes please. Wherever did you get it?’
Gladys scrabbled around in the far reaches of the end cupboard. ‘Here you are.’ Then her face fell. ‘To be honest, I couldn’t rightly say where it came from. My sister Evelyn gave it to me, sort of as a peace offering. We had another row. She said she would look after the little ones but