Maxine’s heart had plummeted. Her mother’s dream wasn’t her dream. But they’d been so good to her, sending her to grammar school when they could ill afford it. Yes, she’d won a scholarship but it hadn’t paid for many of the books, nor the uniform, and the shoes that had to be Clarks. The trouble was that Mickey had turned out to be the biggest disappointment to her parents, although her mother would never admit it. She doggedly went to visit him in prison every month, her head rigid in front of the gossiping neighbours, who apparently knew before she did that her son was in for multiple burglaries. Now she’s pinning her hopes on me, Maxine thought.
Her first year as a probationer had been a shock. She’d been sick so many times at the sight of blood and frightful injuries, shouted at by many of the senior staff, complained about by some of the patients, but she’d gradually learned how to handle it – well, most of the time, anyway. She’d cried often, wishing she’d stood up to her mother, but the worst was over now, so the other nurses had told her when she’d been tempted to pack it all in. Now she was about to start her second year she was looking forward to continuing her studies and taking her finals, knowing she’d be needed, what with the war on. So why did Johnny think he could wave her nurse’s training to one side? He, of all people, knew what a commitment she’d made.
‘Give up my training, do you mean?’ she demanded. ‘When I’ve worked so hard.’
‘Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to finish it,’ Johnny said, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘But there’s no need to continue when you’ve got your certificate.’
‘Johnny, why does being married have anything to do with my nursing?’
‘Because you’re my wife, and I don’t want you working. What would the lads say? “Can’t support your wife, Johnny-boy?” No, I’m not having that.’
‘I’m not interested in “the lads” and what they think,’ Maxine flashed. She tried to keep the bubble of irritation pressed down. ‘We’re talking about me. My parents nearly killed themselves to pay for my training. Think what a waste that would be. What am I supposed to do all day long? It’d be different if we’d been married longer and I had a child to look after.’
‘We can easily remedy that right away.’ Johnny gave an exaggerated wink, but if anything it made her even more cross. It wasn’t a joking matter and she knew she must stand firm. ‘You could help your mum … especially as your dad isn’t well,’ he continued. ‘That’s where your nursing will come in handy.’
‘Mum wouldn’t want that at all. She prides herself on looking after Dad. I’ll be much more valuable in the hospital when the wounded start coming in.’
‘We’ll talk about it some other time.’ Johnny took the last drags of his cigarette as though it was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and reached over to stub his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table. ‘Come over here, Mrs Taylor.’ He spread his arms.
‘No, Johnny, it’s too important. We’ll talk about this right now.’
‘Let’s not spoil our first night, Max.’ Johnny looked across at her, his brown eyes afire with anticipation. ‘We haven’t got much time together.’
Maxine hesitated. If she let this go, she’d be paving the way for him never taking her seriously – that his needs and wants were more important than hers. That his decisions didn’t invite even discussion. A little voice reminded her that she had, only a few hours ago, promised to love, honour and obey him, but she shook it away. She took a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly.
‘Johnny, I know most women leave work when they get married, but this is different. The war’s started. We don’t know how long it will last, but I want to do everything I can to help – the same as you. Everyone who can will contribute something. Mum’s even talking about organising knitting circles to make socks for the soldiers.’
Johnny opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him.
‘What do you think would have happened in the last war if all the women had stayed at home – married or not? They set to immediately. Servants who’d never been out in the world learned to drive and do all sorts of things that were considered men’s work. And spoilt rich girls who’d never lifted a finger equally rolled up their sleeves, and one of the things they did successfully was nursing – even going to the front.’
‘Max—’
‘I can’t … won’t give up my nursing,’ she flung at him. ‘It’s not fair of you to ask me. If you felt that strongly, you should have made it clear before the wedding – and I may have thought twice about marrying you.’ She ignored his shocked expression. ‘There’s no point in any further discussion. I’m carrying on working and that’s that.’
‘Don’t let’s quarrel, Max, especially not tonight of all nights.’
She hesitated. It was their wedding night, after all. Slowly, she walked towards him, her smile only an echo of his sudden happy grin.
Jones at the hospital had warned her the wedding night would be painful, but it wasn’t the physical pain that had hurt so much. Maxine had lain awake through the early hours, every muscle tense as she relived what should have been the culmination of their love. But Johnny had been silent throughout and she’d been too embarrassed to say anything. Afterwards, he’d simply kissed her on the forehead, rolled over and gone straight to sleep. Was this normal? Or was it because she’d stuck up for herself and it had clouded any words and gestures of love he might have given? She thought of all the happy times they’d spent together when they were children, but did she really know him now they were both grown up?
She closed her eyes and an unwelcome thought flashed across her mind. Had she made a terrible mistake? She sighed and turned over, hugging her pillow. Maybe things would look different in the morning.
It was almost a guilty relief that Johnny was to leave so soon after they were married. Maxine was sure this was not a normal response to a new husband, but she couldn’t get out of her mind what Johnny had said. Although he’d not referred to the conversation again, she was sure he was still smarting at her refusal to leave work, and this must be what was affecting their marital relationship. They’d only had three days together but their perfunctory love-making didn’t quite match her dreams of romance.
Christmas came and went, and then it was 1940. Nothing seemed to happen. Sirens occasionally went off and Maxine, along with others at the hospital, practised making sure the patients were as safe as possible before the staff dived into the basement. And out on the streets, everyone, including babies, were given their gas masks, but it quickly became a bit of a joke. People started to leave their gas masks at home and she read that an American senator called it the Phoney War. Johnny came home on leave in April, telling her and her parents that the British were regularly flying over Germany, but instead of dropping bombs they were merely dropping propaganda leaflets, warning the people not to be taken in by Hitler and his empty promises. Johnny was so full of the chaps on the camp and how they passed their time together, he seemed hardly bothered that she was continuing her training. Or if he was, he didn’t show it.
Actually he didn’t show an awful lot, Maxine thought. He had a closed look about
