Nightingales at War (10 page)

And that was exactly why he fascinated her so much. Unlike most of the men she met, he actually presented a challenge to her. Jennifer’s mum had always said she only wanted what she couldn’t have, and she was right.

Cissy sighed. ‘And to think, last night I was dancing with a handsome Frenchman!’ she said.

‘If he could see you now!’ Jennifer laughed.

‘What about your Norwegian – what was his name?’

‘Nils.’ Jennifer smiled at the memory. His name was about the only thing he’d said that she understood.

Cissy giggled. ‘That’s right. I knew it was something odd. Are you seeing him again?’

Jennifer shook her head. ‘He wasn’t my type.’

‘Really? You seemed quite keen when you let him kiss you?’

‘It was only a kiss!’ Jennifer shrugged. ‘Anyway, can you imagine my dad’s face if Nils turned up on our doorstep? He’d have a fit!’

But not as big a fit as he would have if Johnny Fayers rolled up in his car, she thought. Not that there was much chance of that happening.

Back on the ward after lunch, there were more bedpans and yet more cleaning.

As Jennifer passed the private rooms on her way to the sluice, she couldn’t resist peeking through the first open door at the injured airman. She could barely make out his shape in the dimly lit room. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look, she thought. As long as she didn’t touch anything . . .

The room was dark and very warm. The man’s laboured breathing was the only sound.

Jennifer crept closer to look at him. His face and the upper half of his body were swaddled in bandages. A complex arrangement of straps suspended him above the mattress. The room reeked of disinfectant, masking another, more acrid smell. Jennifer sniffed for a moment, then realised with a shock that it was the odour of burned flesh.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Jennifer swung round. Sister Holmes stood in the doorway, her shape outlined against the bright light from the corridor.

‘I— I—’

‘Who told you to come in here?’

‘No one, Sister.’

‘Then what are you doing?’

Jennifer glanced at the figure on the bed. ‘I – I just wanted to look at him,’ she said.

‘You mean you wanted to gawp?’ Sister Holmes snapped. ‘I’ve a good mind to take off those dressings and let you have a look at him. That would soon stop you being nosy, I can tell you!’ She glared at Jennifer. ‘May I remind you, Caldwell, that this is a hospital, not a sideshow? These men have been badly wounded while serving their country. They deserve your respect, not your morbid curiosity.’

‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ Jennifer murmured lamely. She stared at the floor, unable to meet Sister Holmes’s basilisk stare. Daisy Bushell was right, Sister was far more terrifying than Nurse Riley.

‘Since it is your first day I will overlook it,’ Sister Holmes said finally. ‘But be assured, if I find you breaking the rules again, I will report you straight to Matron. I will not have—’

She was interrupted by a cry from the next room. She immediately hurried away and Jennifer followed her.

Next door Nurse Riley was standing over the bed, so pale and still she looked as if she had been carved from wax.

‘Nurse Riley?’ Sister Holmes spoke sharply to her, but she didn’t move. ‘Nurse Riley, whatever is the matter? For goodness’ sake, speak to me, girl!’

Nurse Riley looked up slowly, and Jennifer saw her cheeks were wet with tears. ‘Private Gerrard’s dead,’ she whispered.

Jennifer looked towards the young man in the bed. She had never seen anyone dead before. She would have liked a closer look, but a second later the door slammed in her face.

That was when Nurse Riley started screaming.

KATHLEEN SAT BESIDE
Dora Riley’s bed in the sick bay, gazing down at her. Dr McKay had given her a sedative to calm her, but a pair of defiant green eyes still stared back at Kathleen, fighting sleep.

‘I should be on the ward, Matron,’ she insisted. ‘Sister Holmes needs me.’

‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve rested.’

‘But I’m not tired. I just had a bit of a – funny turn, that’s all. I’m all right now, honestly.’

‘That’s not what Dr McKay thinks. He says you’re suffering from nervous exhaustion.’

Dora Riley pressed her lips together, and Kathleen could see her fighting back a sharp retort. She certainly seemed more like her normal tight-lipped self, in contrast to the hysterical, tearful girl who had been carried up to the sick bay earlier.

But Kathleen wasn’t sure that was a good thing. According to Dr McKay, it was the pressure of holding in her emotions that had caused her to collapse.

‘Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you, my dear?’ Kathleen urged.

Dora turned her face away to stare at the wall. ‘It’s nothing,’ she mumbled. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Matron, I promise you.’

‘But we can’t help you if you don’t tell us.’

‘I don’t need help!’ A dull flush rose in the girl’s freckled cheeks. She appeared to be more embarrassed about her outburst than anything else.

Kathleen regarded her steadily. She had never met anyone as stubborn as Dora Riley. Her dogged determination might have helped her to overcome a great deal in her life, but it also meant she could be her own worst enemy at times.

‘There’s no shame in accepting help,’ she said quietly. ‘Everyone needs a helping hand from time to time.’

‘I can manage, Matron.’

Kathleen looked at the girl’s bitten-down nails. They told a very different story.

She tried again. ‘You seemed very badly affected by Private Gerrard’s death,’ she commented.

Dora winced at the sound of his name. ‘It came as a shock, that’s all, Matron,’ she muttered.

‘Surely not. With your experience, you must have known he was unlikely to recover from his injuries?’

Dora kept her gaze fixed on the wall. ‘I thought he was going to fight it,’ she said quietly. ‘For his wife and kids.’

So that’s it, Kathleen thought. At last she was getting closer to the truth. ‘And I suppose it made you think about your own husband?’

Dora flashed her a look of dismay and Kathleen realised she was right.

‘Tell me,’ she prompted gently, ‘has he been injured?’

Dora turned her face to the wall. ‘He’s in a military hospital. In Oxford.’ The words seemed to be dragged out of her.

‘I see.’

‘He was shot in the chest,’ Dora went on in a flat voice. ‘I’ve telephoned the hospital to find out how he is, but all they’ll tell me is he’s comfortable . . .’ Her voice trailed off, lost in misery.

Kathleen was silent for a moment, taking it in. No wonder she’d reacted so badly to that soldier’s death. The poor girl must see her husband’s face in every wounded soldier she tended.

Comfortable. It was a term they often used when patients’ families telephoned the ward. It was supposed to be reassuring, but Kathleen only realised now what an empty phrase it was. Especially to a nurse, who would know what it really meant.

‘We must arrange for you to have some time off, so you can go and visit him,’ she said. ‘Oxford isn’t that far.’

‘I can’t.’ Dora shook her head. ‘Families aren’t allowed to visit patients in military hospitals.’

Kathleen thought about it. ‘Surely under the circumstances, they would allow a short visit?’

‘What circumstances, Matron? I’m no worse off than a lot of other wives and girlfriends, am I?’ Dora’s voice was flat. ‘I’m luckier than a lot of them, too. Some men never even made it off the beach. At least my Nick has a chance—’

‘And if he’s as brave and determined as his wife, then I’m sure he’ll grab it with both hands,’ Kathleen said.

‘I hope you’re right, Matron.’

Kathleen stood up. ‘At any rate, you should take some time off, to recover your strength.’

‘If it’s all the same to you, Matron, I’d rather go back to work. I’d feel better if I was keeping busy.’

‘Very well. But I will have you transferred to another ward.’

Dora looked appalled. ‘But Sister Holmes will be short-staffed!’

I’m sure Sister Holmes would prefer that to having nurses collapse in a tearful heap on her, Kathleen thought. The ward sister had looked most shaken when Kathleen had gone up to the ward to see her.

‘Sister Holmes can manage. You must put yourself first,’ she advised.

Dora gave her a long look. ‘With all due respect, Matron, I’ve got a family to think about. I ain’t got time to think about myself.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Kathleen couldn’t hide her frustration. ‘Surely there must be someone you could speak to about this? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.’

‘I know, and I wish I could help,’ James Cooper’s voice was sympathetic at the other end of the telephone line. ‘But as a military matter, it’s quite out of my control. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You know I would do something about it if I could. But rules are rules, especially where the army is concerned.’

‘I know,’ Kathleen sighed. She looked up as Miss Hanley entered the room with the staff rotas in her hand. ‘It just seems so sad, that’s all. All she’d need is to see him for a few hours, just to reassure herself . . .’

‘I understand you’re trying to help, but if you want my advice I’d let it go,’ James Cooper said.

That’s the trouble, Kathleen thought. I can’t let it go. She had spent all afternoon trying to find a way to help Dora Riley. She had even pondered the idea of asking that Nick be transferred to the Nightingale Hospital. But she realised that was impractical. Their resources were stretched enough, without her putting more pressure on everyone.

‘But if you’d seen the state the poor girl was in—’

‘So are a lot of other girls.’ James Cooper echoed Dora’s words. ‘You can’t help everyone, Miss Fox.’

‘I suppose not.’

As Kathleen put the phone down, Miss Hanley was still waiting by the door. Kathleen already knew she’d been listening to every word. ‘I take it Mr Cooper couldn’t help, Matron?’

Kathleen shook her head. ‘Unfortunately not.’

Miss Hanley sighed. ‘I did try to tell you.’

Something about the smug way she said it made Kathleen’s hackles rise. ‘And you were quite right, Miss Hanley – as usual!’ she snapped.

Her assistant looked offended. ‘I’m sure I take no pleasure in it, Matron.’

Don’t you? Kathleen thought. She wished she’d never shared her worries about Dora Riley with the Assistant Matron. Miss Hanley had spent all afternoon making her feelings about the matter very plain.

She made them plain again now. ‘It’s probably for the best,’ she said. ‘As Matron of this hospital, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time and energy than to involve yourself in nurses’ private matters.’

‘But don’t you see? This isn’t just a private matter,’ Kathleen said. ‘A young nurse is on the point of collapse because she’s so worried about her husband. If we could help ease some of her anxiety, she might be able to continue with her duties.’

‘Yes, but—’ Miss Hanley started to argue, but Kathleen held up her hand to silence her. She had heard more than she could stand from her assistant on the matter. ‘There is more to a hospital than wards and beds, Miss Hanley. What makes the Nightingale work is the people within it. And I don’t just mean names on a duty list either.’ She waved the rota that Miss Hanley had placed on her desk. ‘If we don’t care for the staff, then we won’t have a hospital at all.’

A mottled flush spread up Miss Hanley’s neck. ‘I didn’t realise you felt so strongly about it, Matron,’ she muttered.

‘I feel strongly about everyone in this hospital, Miss Hanley. That’s my job.’

Even you, she thought, as the Assistant Matron huffed off, slamming the door behind her. Kathleen rested her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands as the weariness of the day caught up with her. Sometimes she felt life would be a lot simpler if she took Miss Hanley’s view and ran the hospital like a military operation. Perhaps her assistant was right and she shouldn’t allow herself to get too involved?

But then she thought about poor Dora Riley, and all the other hard-working nurses and sisters who dedicated so much of their lives to the Nightingale. How could she stop herself from caring about them?

She was pleased to see Dora Riley had followed her orders at least. There was no sign of the young staff nurse when Kathleen did her rounds the following morning. With her usual unerring efficiency, Miss Hanley had arranged for a student, Nurse Padgett, to step in from the Female Acute ward.

‘I’m sure it’s for the best, under the circumstances,’ Sister Holmes said as they began their inspection. ‘Riley’s been under a great deal of strain, unbeknownst to us all.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Still, at least the poor girl will be able to set her mind at rest now.’

Kathleen stared at her, mystified. ‘What do you mean, Sister?’

‘When she visits her husband.’ Now it was Sister Holmes’s turn to look mystified. ‘Surely you know, Matron? Miss Hanley has arranged for her to go up to Oxford on Saturday morning.’

‘No,’ Kathleen replied. ‘No, I didn’t know.’

‘It seems she has a connection in the War Office. One of the top brass, no less. Very convenient for us, don’t you think?’

‘Very,’ Kathleen agreed, tight-lipped.

Miss Hanley was rearranging the duty lists yet again when Kathleen returned to her office later. Various papers were set out in front of her, and she was drawing lines between them with a pencil and ruler. It looked like a complex geometrical puzzle.

‘What’s all this I hear about Nurse Riley?’ asked Kathleen.

Miss Hanley didn’t look up from her drawing. ‘After our conversation yesterday, I decided to make a telephone call to my cousin,’ she said. ‘He’s in the War Office. I thought he might be able to help, and he did.’

She picked up her eraser and scrubbed at the paper, rubbing out the line she had just drawn. Kathleen stared at the top of the Assistant Matron’s head. She had always known Veronica Hanley came from a distinguished military family. ‘Why didn’t you think to mention it yesterday?’ she asked.

Miss Hanley looked up, meeting her eye for the first time. ‘Because I didn’t think the situation warranted it yesterday. But then I considered what you’d said, and I decided to trust your judgement.’

They faced each other across the desk. Kathleen didn’t know whether to be pleased or to reach over and strangle her. Miss Hanley had had the solution within her grasp all the time, but had kept it to herself. And probably would have continued keeping it to herself if she hadn’t had a belated change of heart.

‘Thank you,’ Kathleen said shortly. It was all she could trust herself to say.