counting out some pounds from a bundle of notes. ‘Here … this should do it.’ He pushed the money into her reluctant hands. ‘Some of the stores in Oxford Street were badly damaged last year in the Blitz, but Marshall & Snelgrove escaped much of it, so I’m told.’ He closed her fingers over the notes. ‘Try them first.’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’ She looked up at him, her eyes anxious.
‘Absolutely, poppet. Go and enjoy yourself. And have lunch out. Take a girlfriend.’
But in the end she went on her own. Somehow she didn’t feel like explaining to any of the others how she had come by all this extra money. She might have told Anna, but there was no one else she would confide in. But did that mean she was doing something she wasn’t proud of? She didn’t want anyone to think she was after his money. But it might look just like that to them. Surely it was natural that Edwin wanted her to look nice. And she wanted to look nice for him. Was that so terrible?
She shrugged and tried to put the question out of her mind, but she couldn’t shake off the edge of guilt she felt that Johnny wouldn’t have approved at all.
She had to admit it was heaven to have a whole day off to herself, wandering around the shops, knowing if she saw something she liked she’d be able to buy it – within reason, of course.
She settled on a dress the colour of a shimmering turquoise sea she’d once seen in a holiday brochure. Immediately as she put it on her skin glowed, the colour of her eyes took on almost the same turquoise, and her hair glinted like gold under the lights. Although it was strapless she knew she could make it more of a versatile outfit with the little short jacket she’d made for her wedding dress. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and almost to her surprise, the attractive young woman smiled back.
She was sure Edwin would love the sea dress as much as she did.
Now to the shoe department. She was alarmed to see that many of them cost as much as her dress. Her eyes fell on a pair of dark green suede shoes with a bow on the front and a black patent heel. She turned the shoe over. Three pounds nineteen and eleven. Nearly four pounds. That would make it twelve pounds eight shillings out of the fifteen pounds he’d given her. She tried them on.
‘They fit you like a glove, don’t they, Madam?’
‘I can’t feel them at all.’ Maxine smiled up at the young girl.
‘This make is very high quality,’ the girl said. ‘I think you’ll enjoy wearing them and I’m sure you’ll have a lot of compliments. They’re very special.’
Maxine couldn’t refuse.
The girl put them in a shoebox lined with tissue paper and tucked it into Maxine’s carrier bag.
There was enough money over to buy a pair of cami-knickers and a pretty brassière. It was no good wearing a beautiful dress if she only had tired undergarments beneath. She couldn’t wait to show Edwin her purchases.
She was too excited to sit for a proper lunch, as he had suggested, but she had a cup of tea and a fruit scone in the store’s café, all the while thinking of him. Why had he singled her out? An eminent surgeon, he could have anyone he wanted. What was it about her that he liked so much? He was a bit serious compared with Johnny (though she knew she mustn’t compare the two men), but she supposed he’d have to be with his kind of responsibility. He must feel so satisfied at the end of each day saving lives. She wished she could do more herself.
Was she falling in love with him? She couldn’t help a wry smile. She was running ahead. It was far too soon to be posing such a question.
Yesterday’s treat on her shopping day seemed an age ago when Maxine was plunged into a nightmare at the hospital. Eleven people, four from the same family, had been brought in during the night, wounded from a bomb which had exploded in one of the streets uncomfortably close to St Thomas’.
‘Did anyone die?’ she asked Staff Nurse, dreading the answer.
‘Three.’ Staff Nurse Williams’ tone was abrupt as she glanced towards the door. One of the orderlies was pushing a man in a wheelchair. The patient’s hair and face was thickly coated with dust, and he was muttering obscenities under his breath.
‘Calm down, Sir,’ the orderly said, not unkindly. ‘You’re safe now. We’ll soon get you put right.’ He helped him out of the chair and managed to get him into bed, with more curses emanating from the patient’s mouth.
Maxine’s heart went out to the poor man.
‘I’d like you to give him some special attention while you’re on duty,’ Staff Nurse Williams said. ‘You’ll be able to keep a strict eye on his daily improvement … or not.’ She left her to it.
Maxine helped one of the nurses to get him undressed and into the bed. The man groaned as the nurse knocked his leg by mistake.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr—’
He looked up, a faint expression of surprise on his face. ‘Bill … Bill … oh, God, I can’t remember my name.’ He tapped the side of his head.
‘Mr Chorley?’ Maxine broke in, reading from his notes.
‘Yes, yes, that’s it … Chorley.’
He looked relieved that he had a full name, but Maxine wasn’t convinced. She was sure he’d clung onto ‘Chorley’ without any real conviction. It looked like she had plenty of work to do with Bill Chorley, but she was glad. She needed to keep busy. Keep her mind off Edwin. And their next time together. She hugged herself at the thought that there would definitely be a next time.
Bill Chorley was a difficult patient, right from the start. But it didn’t bother Maxine one bit. She took him his noon meal on his second day.
‘What’s this muck?’ He looked up at her as she placed the tray on his bedside table and helped him into a seating position. When she didn’t respond, he banged his spoon down on the plate like a toddler having a temper tantrum.
She refused to rise to his bait.
‘You seem very pally with our charming Mr Blake,’ he remarked.
Oh, why did she always have to blush whenever Edwin was mentioned or when he came into the ward?
‘Yes, I thought so,’ he chuckled. ‘You’ve got “guilt” written all over that pretty face of yours.’
‘You need to concentrate on getting well, Mr Chorley,’ Maxine said, frowning at him, ‘and not concerning yourself with the latest gossip.’
‘Oh, I don’t think it’s gossip,’ Chorley said annoyingly. ‘I watch things. You and Blake are having an affair – it’s bloody obvious.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her blush deepened.
‘Then why are you turning so red?’ he asked, a grin spreading over his face. ‘And by the way, you can call me Bill. I’m not at all sure I recognise the name of Chorley anyway.’
‘When you come up with one you do recognise, then let me know,’ she quipped, trying to change the subject.
‘He’s not good enough
