Tuppence to Tooley Street Read online

  ‘You going back to being a bookie’s runner?’ Albert asked.

  Danny grinned. ‘When I get out o’ this mess I’m gonna get rich. Don’t ask me ’ow, but I’m gonna make a pile. I might even do a bit o’ buyin’ an’ sellin’ like those Yiddisher boys over the Mile End Road.’

  It was late afternoon when a flotilla of small craft appeared on the horizon. As the boats drew near to the shore the aircraft returned without warning and strafed their attack. Men were stranded in the water and those waiting on the sands ran back into the scant shelter of the dunes. One young soldier from the Middlesex saw an upturned boat floating near the water’s edge and he ran towards it. Machine-gun fire cut him down and his body floated face up in the water. Oggy’s men jumped up and raced down towards the shore. Danny and Albert were following behind when the country lad fell face down in the sand. Danny could see the growing red patch on the back of his uniform blouse.

  ‘C’mon, Alb! Get up!’ he screamed, bending down and dragging his pal into a sitting position.

  Albert groaned as Danny tried to lift him.

  ‘Can yer stand, Albert?’

  Albert coughed and flecks of blood appeared on his lips. The young cockney looked at the white face of his comrade. ‘They’ve got the boat upright, me ole son,’ he said. ‘C’mon, you can make it.’

  Albert coughed again. ‘It’s no good. Help me to the dunes. I’ll be okay,’ he gasped.

  Oggy was in the boat and pulling his pals in with him. He shouted for the two to get a move on, but Danny realised that Albert was not going to make it and he waved the boat away.

  Planes were still strafing the beach as Danny half carried and half dragged Albert back to the meagre shelter of the dunes. When he had propped his pal up against a sand mound he searched through Albert’s discarded pack and found a field dressing which he pushed beneath the country lad’s battledress to stem the bleeding. Albert opened his eyes and groaned. Danny gave him a sip of water from his field bottle and Albert leaned his head against the sand.

  ‘You go on. I’ll be okay,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Shut up, yer silly bleeder,’ Danny said gently. ‘They ain’t takin’ stretcher cases on the boats. Soon as one comes in I’ll carry yer out. Leave it ter me.’

  As he looked along the sands Danny could see stretcher bearers running along to pick up the wounded. He could see Oggy’s boat riding out a few yards offshore. The men had oars in the water and the big soldier was standing up in the prow waving frantically. ‘C’mon! We’re waiting fer yer!’ he bellowed out.

  The young cockney stood up and tore off his battledress. ‘All right, Albert,’ he said. ‘We’re gonna make that boat. Did yer ’ear me?’

  Albert’s face was grey and he tried to speak. Danny bent over him and held his face in his hands. ‘Listen, Alb. Yer’ll ’ave ter grit yer teef, me ole mate.’

  Albert screamed with pain as Danny hoisted him to his feet and dropped him onto his shoulder. Danny’s feet sank in the soft sand as he moved slowly down towards the water’s edge. His breath came in short gasps and sweat was running into his eyes. His legs buckled under him and he fell. ‘Okay, Albert. One more try. We can do it!’ he said panting.

  Albert was past caring. His eyes had glazed and his mouth hung open.

  ‘Get up, yer stupid bastard, can’t yer?’ Danny screamed at him. ‘I’m not leavin’ yer ter die on a Froggy beach! Wake up! Wake up!’ he shouted, shaking the lifeless body roughly.

  A firm hand gripped his shoulder. Danny looked up through clouded eyes and saw a medic standing over him. ‘Go for the boat, son. We’ll take care of your pal.’

  Tracer cut across the sky as Danny stumbled into the cold water and swam for the boat. Oggy reached out a huge hand and hoisted the breathless cockney aboard. Danny dropped onto the planking shaking and Oggy patted the young man’s back.

  ‘Yer did yer best, son. Yer couldn’t ’ave done more,’ he said quietly.

  Danny pulled himself up and looked back to the shore, to Albert’s lifeless body. Oggy’s men were pulling on their oars and the boat began to move slowly away, fighting against the tide. The big ships were getting larger against the evening sky and the overcrowded lifeboat was headed for the nearest of them. Low-flying planes were roaring over the shallow waters, raking the helpless boats with machine-gun fire; men screamed as they were hit and went over the side. Danny saw the plane coming towards the boat.

  He felt no pain as he fell into the cold sea. He could not move his limbs and he waited for the sea to swallow him. The last thing he remembered was the ugly face of Oggy Murphy beside him in the water.

  Chapter Two

  On the night of the 30th of May 1940 a military vehicle emblazoned with a large red cross left the quayside at Dover and drove the few miles inland to the red-brick Cavendish Home for the Elderly. The hospital stood in spacious grounds where flower beds were set amid chestnuts and willows. The walls of the buildings were covered with vines and a wide gravel drive led up to the entrance from the gates. Until the German army had swept across Europe, the place had been a serene refuge for the elderly and convalescent. Now it had been converted into a military hospital, filled with feverish activity as the casualties from France were brought in from the boats.

  The vehicle pulled up at the entrance and medical orderlies quickly took off the stretchered wounded. A pretty dark-haired nurse helped wheel one of the casualties into the operating theatre, and two hours later she was on hand to take the unconscious soldier into a high-ceilinged ward. Throughout the night the young man lay comatose. Sounds of the night outside and sounds in the ward could not invade his sleep, but as the early morning rays of sunlight stole across the high white ceiling and lit up the white walls, the young soldier opened his eyes.

  Danny Sutton’s drugged mind stirred and he saw a whiteness everywhere. He began to wonder whether he was dead. His pain-wracked body sent signals to his befuddled brain and he knew he was still alive. There was no pain in heaven, and he knew he was not in the other place, for it was too white and bright. A wave of sickness overcame him and a soft body pressed against his head as he was attended to. He could smell soap and he felt soft, cool hands on his forehead. Danny breathed out deeply and sank back into a heavy sleep.

  For two days and nights the young soldier drifted between sleep and consciousness. He was transported far away in his fitful dreams. He was back on the beach at Dunkirk and his screams were ignored. He was back home, and he searched for his family. He heard iron-rimmed wheels on cobblestones and he saw Kathy, but she walked past him. He could see his family gathered around the kitchen table. His father wiped his large hand across his straggly moustache as he read the letter. His glasses were set on the end of his nose and the sleeves of his collarless shirt were rolled up high. His grey-haired mother dabbed at her eyes with a tiny handkerchief and tears rolled down her thin, lined face. Danny could see his three sisters: Maggie, the eldest, sat beside her husband Joe; Lucy held the hand of Ben, her fiancé; and Connie, the youngest, who was a year older than Danny, sat beside her mother and sobbed loudly. Maggie’s two young children were playing in a corner. In his dream Danny was sitting at the table but his family ignored him. He felt himself being drawn away from the room and he struggled, trying to bang on the table. He opened his eyes with a start and the pretty nurse patted his forehead.

  ‘You’ve been dreaming,’ she said in a soft, lilting voice.

  As the days passed slowly Danny grew stronger. He began to wait impatiently for the pretty dark-haired nurse to come on duty, and when she changed the soiled dressings around his chest he could smell the fragrance of her hair. He had been told that a shell splinter had pierced his lung and another fragment had been removed from his thigh. The wounds were healing slowly, but after one week he was able to be wheeled into the sweet-smelling gardens of the hospital.

  One afternoon Danny was sitting in the warm sunshine. The fresh smell of new-mown grass hung in the air, and early butterflies fluttered ami
d the spring flowers. The retreat seemed far away from this peaceful scene. Danny saw the nurse walking towards him and noticed how her hips swayed slightly. She wore a cape around her shoulders which flapped as she walked, and when she reached him she stood with her arms folded. Danny saw the pretty flush of her cheeks and noticed how her dark hair was swept up around her tiny ears. He had heard about patients falling for their nurses and he could quite understand it, if all nurses looked like her. She reminded him somehow of the girl back home–the one he had lost–and his eyes fixed on hers.

  She smiled at him. ‘I’m going back on duty soon, soldier boy. I’m supposed to take you back, or you’ll miss your tea,’ she said in her sing-song voice.

  ‘Danny’s the name,’ he grinned. ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘I know it’s Danny, but we’re not supposed to get fresh with our patients,’ she grinned back.

  The young cockney started to propel his wheelchair, but the nurse stopped him, as a sharp pain shot between his ribs.

  ‘And what do you think you’re doing, Danny Sutton?’

  ‘I was jus’ goin’ ter push me chair over ter the seat,’ he said. ‘You could sit down an’ talk ter me fer five minutes.’

  ‘Just five minutes,’ she said in mock seriousness as she walked around the wheelchair and pushed her patient over to the wooden bench.

  The sun was slipping down in the afternoon sky and already a pink tinge lit up the western horizon. It was cooler now as a very slight evening breeze rose. It rustled a loose strand of the girl’s hair and she patted it down as she talked.

  ‘Why do you insist on knowing my name?’ she asked.

  Danny grimaced. ‘I can’t keep on callin’ yer “nurse”. It sounds too . . . I dunno.’

  ‘Let me tell you, Danny. If Sister heard you calling me anything but nurse I’d be in trouble.’

  ‘I wouldn’t get yer inter trouble. I’d only use yer name when we was alone–like now,’ he persisted.

  ‘Listen, soldier boy, we’re not likely to be alone. And anyway, you’ll be off in a few more days.’

  Danny looked into her dark eyes. His hand went up to his chest and he grinned. ‘I’m goin’ ter ’ang this out as long as possible. I’d really like ter get ter know yer better, honest I would.’

  The nurse flushed slightly and glanced into Danny’s pale blue eyes. His vivacity attracted her and she warmed to his serious look. She noticed the way his fair hair tended to curl above his ears, and the way he had of grinning suddenly. She liked the humorous twitch of his mouth and the way his eyes seemed to widen when he spoke. ‘They’ll be sending you to the other hospital in a few more days,’ she said smiling.

  ‘What uvver ’ospital?’ he asked.

  ‘Why, the convalescent hospital up in Hertfordshire. It’s supposed to be very nice there.’

  ‘Cobblers! I like it ’ere fine,’ he said quickly.

  The young nurse’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Danny Sutton! Don’t use that word! I don’t like it.’

  Danny touched her arm and she stiffened noticeably. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s jus’ that, well, I’d like you an’ me ter get ter know each uvver better. ’Ow the ’ell am I gonna find out more about yer up in bleedin’ wherever it is?’

  ‘Okay,’ she replied in resignation. ‘My name is Alison Jones. I’m twenty-two, and I come from Cardiff. Is that enough to be going on with? Now come on, I’ve got to get you back for tea. By the way, if you mention my name in front of Sister or the doctors, I’ll never speak to you again. Is that understood?’

  Danny grinned and raised his hands in mock fear. ‘Understood, Alison.’

  When he got back to the ward, Danny learned that only the more seriously wounded were to get visitors. The others would have to wait until they reached the convalescent hospital. He was not unduly worried; he did not want his parents to see him until he became more mobile. He thought about the letter he had scribbled, telling his family that he had only a few scratches. He knew that they wouldn’t believe him. His mother would cry into her handkerchief, while his father would polish his glasses and read the letter again. He pictured the scene back in Dawson Street, Bermondsey. The neighbours would call round to commiserate, and that would only start his mother crying again. He thought of Kathy, the girl from the next street, and wondered if she would get around to dropping him a line.

  Casualties had been crowded into the old vine-covered buildings, and as soon as the less severely wounded were able to travel they were transferred to other hospitals around the country. Danny found himself waiting with a dozen or so soldiers at the hospital gates for the coach to arrive. It was only three days since he had persuaded Alison to tell him her name. He had managed to snatch a few minutes alone with her once or twice and she had told him a little about herself. She came from a mining family; her father had been killed in a pit accident when she was a child, and her mother had been left to bring up a large brood with little help. Alison told him about the hardships during the miners’ strike, and how the illnesses often caused by coal-mining affected the families in the Welsh Valleys. She said she would have liked to study medicine but it had been impossible, and nursing had been the only alternative. She told him that nothing else mattered to her. Danny responded by telling her about his home in dockland and how his family had suffered during the strikes for better working conditions. Her wide dark eyes had become sad when he told her the stories he had heard from his mother, of his father coming home bloodied on more than one occasion after clashes with the police at the dock gates. Alison’s frank sympathy had surprised him. She said that there had been many dark stories when the army had been called in to threaten the striking miners in the coalfields. Danny had become captivated by her pretty looks and lilting voice as she chatted away to him. He wanted very much to see her again when he got his medical discharge, although Wales seemed a very long way from his home in the grimy, rundown area of London’s dockland. He felt that Alison liked him, and he wondered whether she would agree to meet him again. She had seemed happy and relaxed in his company, but when he had attempted to find out about her life outside the hospital she had been quick to change the subject. He wondered whether or not there was someone else in her life, and he became anxious. His feelings for Alison had grown during those all too brief interludes, and he realised that he was now beginning to think of the Welsh nurse rather more than of Kathy back home.

  The coach pulled up at the gates and the waiting patients were hustled into their seats. Danny looked around urgently as his name was called and an orderly helped him to climb aboard. There was no sign of Alison. He sat down despondently and stared out of the window as the coach driver climbed aboard and started up the engine. Suddenly he saw Alison. She waved at the driver and he opened the door for her. She came along the aisle, her face flushed, and when she reached Danny she quickly gave him some letters which she had in her hand. ‘Good luck, soldier boy,’ she said lightly.

  Danny looked up into her dark eyes and she bent her head and kissed him lightly on his cheek. He could find nothing to say but he gave her a huge grin as she stepped off the coach.

  The driver pulled into the Three Counties Hospital near Hitchen after a tiring journey and the casualties found themselves billeted in prefabricated wards; the hospital had been built in 1938 to accommodate the possible civilian casualties in the event of war. Danny settled quickly into the routine and he was cheered by the fact that he could now get around with the aid of a stick. After a week at the hospital his parents visited him. Alice Sutton fussed over him and said how thin he was looking on the hospital food; Frank Sutton sat uncomfortably on a small garden seat and tried to have a word with Danny when his wife ran out of things to say. Danny felt uncomfortable with them and was glad when it was time for them to go. He felt guilty for his lack of patience as he watched his parents walk arm in arm through the hospital gates. They seemed to have aged; his father was still robust, but his thinning hair had gone completely grey. His mother was l
ined and frail, and she looked diminutive beside his father. Danny couldn’t understand why it had been so difficult meeting his parents, and he felt sad as he turned and limped back into the ward.

  After the weekend visits the hospital settled down to its usual routine. Danny spent most of his time in the hospital grounds. His wounds had largely healed and he could now walk without the aid of a stick. He realised that his twenty-first birthday had passed and he had hardly even remembered it. The days passed slowly until he was finally pronounced fit enough to travel home. The documentation was completed and he had his medical discharge book, a travel warrant, some back pay and a bundle of dressings. As he was piling his belongings into a suitcase Danny saw a figure hobbling towards him. ‘Well I’ll be blowed. Look who it is,’ the soldier said, grinning widely. ‘Remember me?’

  Danny recognised the soldier as one of Oggy’s crowd. ‘’Course I remember,’ Danny said loudly with a huge smile. They shook hands, and the slight young man sat on the edge of Danny’s bed and ran his fingers through his wiry hair. His face became serious. ‘I saw yer mate cop it. I didn’t fink you was gonna make it ter the boat.’

  Danny shook his head. ‘I can’t remember much after you lot pulled me aboard.’

  The soldier eased his plastered leg. ‘Me, you an’ Oggy was the only ones ter make it.’

  Danny gasped. ‘I felt sure Oggy drowned. ’E couldn’t swim, could ’e?’

  The wiry-haired lad laughed aloud. ‘If you ever bump inter that ugly gypsy yer’ll ’ave ter buy ’im a pint. ’E saved your life. We was ’oldin’ on ter that upturned boat fer dear life. Oggy ’ad yer roun’ the neck. We was in the water fer ages before we was picked up. Me an’ you ended up in different ’ospitals.’