Free The Watercress Girls by Sheila Newberry

young daughter to keep her cousin company. He was older, though she doubted he was any more experienced. However, she’d have a quiet word with his mother, she thought. Evie was far too young for any romantic notions.
     
    The following day Ronnie came in as usual for his lunch, with half a dozen red rosebuds from the stationmaster’s garden, wrapped in a discarded newspaper. Evie placed the stems in a basin of water, saving the paper to read later.
    ‘Mother said you’re taking Robbie along to the infirmary this afternoon .’ he said. ‘The roses are for Ena. Tell her I hope to see her soon, won’t you?’ He didn’t sound very convincing. He was invariably upset and withdrawn after visiting his wife.
    Evie bit her lip. How could she tell him that Ena always ignored the baby? Conversation was one-sided. She couldn’t pass this on to Ronnie either. Ena ranted on about her early life in London, before her mother returned to her home village with her small girl to escape her violent husband. Ena had never spoken of this time before; now, a shocked Evie learned of the abuse her young sister-in-law had suffered. No wonder, she thought, that Ena had ‘snapped’.
    Robbie, however, was a delightful baby, smiling and contented – much loved and cuddled by his grandparents, a comfort to his father,and, of course, Evie adored him. If only she didn’t have to play the role of ‘little mother’, she thought, with a sigh.
    ‘I’ll walk with you,’ Walter offered.
    ‘You won’t be able to come inside,’ Evie said quickly.
    ‘I hear there’s a pleasant garden and a seat or two. I’ll take a book to read, eh?’
    ‘I’d come too,’ Aunt Mary said, ‘but Sophia has decided we’ll make strawberry jam, so I can take a couple of jars home. Shame to waste those last small berries.’
    Evie wore her Sunday-best frock in pale-green organza, with puff sleeves and a sash, made by Sophia from material sent by Mattie. Evie privately thought it rather childish, but Walter complimented her, ‘You look very nice!’ She wished her hair was as long and straight as Mattie’s. Her own locks sprang back into curls after brushing.
    Robbie kicked his legs and waved his arms as he lay in his coachbuilt pram, loaned by the doctor’s wife, whose own family were long since grown and flown. He wore a white romper suit, a present from Aunt Alice. Being fair-skinned like Mattie he was shaded from the sun by a fringed canopy, fawn cotton lined with dark green.
    Evie was glad of her floppy sunhat. She glanced at Walter. You couldn’t call him handsome, she thought, but he’d lost his town pallor after this break in the country, and he was well-mannered, walking on the road side of the pavement.
    The infirmary, formerly the old workhouse, was situated on the outskirts of the village. Those suffering from mental problems, whether temporary or long-term, were housed in a separate wing from the cottage hospital. Some of the men tended the garden, growing vegetables ; women at the recovery stage helped in the laundry, or in the sewing-room. However, the kitchens were considered out of bounds, because of hazardous equipment.
    There were chairs set out on the porch, so Evie suggested Walter wait there with the pram, while she went to find Ena. Carrying the flowers she went through the double doors into a long corridor, with small wards on either side. She met a nurse halfway along, who told her Ena had been moved to a two-bed room at the end.
    The nurse lowered her voice. ‘She is much quieter. She could well be home soon.’
    Ena opened the door. She wore hospital garb, a loose blue dress, as belts were not allowed. She accepted the roses, now wrapped in shiny paper, read Ronnie’s message, then laid the bunch on her bedside cabinet. ‘Nurse will put them in water, later.’
    ‘Robbie is in his pram on the porch,’ Evie said tentatively. ‘Will you come out?’
    Ena nodded, after reflecting for what seemed a long moment. ‘All right.’