Nightingales at War (28 page)

A YOUNG WOMAN
had gone into labour in Stepney. The ambulances had all been diverted to the city to deal with bomb casualties, and there was no one to help her.

‘Isn’t there someone else who can assist? A mother or a neighbour?’ James Cooper asked.

Miss Hanley shook her head. ‘It was a neighbour who made the call. The poor girl has been in labour for some hours, and it sounds like a complicated delivery. The neighbour said the mother is exhausted and showing signs of distress.’

James frowned. ‘I suppose I shall have to go and see her.’

‘But you can’t!’ The words were out before Kathleen could stop them. ‘It’s far too dangerous out there.’

‘What choice do I have?’

They looked at each other for a moment. ‘Then I’m coming with you,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t allow you to do that. As you said, it’s far too dangerous.’

‘But you’re going to need a nurse with you. And I’m not prepared to risk another girl’s life out there.’

An explosion crashed overhead, shaking the ground and making them both flinch. They stared at each other for a moment, then he said shortly, ‘Very well. I’d appreciate your help.’

Outside the air was filled with smoke and the smell of cordite. There were no ambulances to be had, so James said they would take his car.

‘In that case, we’ll need mattresses,’ Kathleen said.

James stared at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’ve seen it done on a delivery van a couple of months ago. We’ll strap a couple to the roof of your car. It might not stop a direct hit, but at least it will offer us some kind of protection. That’s the idea, anyway.’

They made an odd sight, driving through the streets of the East End with a pair of old hospital mattresses strapped to the roof of their car. Meanwhile, a fierce firework display exploded over the city, lighting up the night sky with a spectacular fiery glow of red and amber, every building seemingly ablaze.

It was difficult to find the house. They kept being directed away by the ARP wardens and the firemen. On practically every corner they were told, ‘You can’t come through here, half the street’s come down.’

‘It’s like hell,’ James commented, as he swung the car round yet again. ‘I’m half expecting to get there and find the poor girl giving birth on the pavement.’

‘Don’t.’ Kathleen shuddered. ‘Look, they’ve shut that road off, too. Perhaps we’re better off abandoning the car and trying on foot?’

He sent her a quick look. ‘Are you sure? It seems rather hectic out there.’

As if to prove it, an incendiary exploded on the roof above them, showering them with sparks.

Kathleen covered her head with her hands. ‘We’ve survived this far,’ she said grimly.

They ran for it. James grabbed her hand in the darkness, pulling her through the debris-strewn streets.

When they found the house, the door was already open, and, once inside, they could hear the sound of screaming.

‘It’s coming from round the back,’ James said. ‘She must be in the shelter.’

In the backyard, they were met by an anxious-looking woman.

‘Oh, thank God you’ve come!’ she cried. ‘I’ve put her in the Anderson shelter, just in case. She’s in a terrible way, poor kid.’

James went straight to the shelter while Kathleen took charge in the kitchen. She instructed the woman to boil some water and find as many clean towels as she could.

‘I tried to help her,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve had five myself, so I thought I knew what was what. But when I saw how much she was struggling . . .’

‘Is it her first?’ Kathleen asked, as she washed her hands with a slab of hard green soap.

The woman nodded. ‘And she’s just found out her husband’s been killed. He was in the RAF, shot down in a dogfight, he was. This baby’s all she’s got left, bless her heart.’

James Cooper had already examined the girl by the time Kathleen got to the shelter.

‘The baby’s breech,’ he said. ‘She’s fully dilated, but I can’t feel the feet.’

‘So the legs are extended? No wonder it’s taking so long.’ Kathleen looked at the poor girl, sprawled on the earth floor of the shelter. She looked exhausted, but Kathleen knew her labour pains would not be enough for her to push the baby out by herself. ‘Should we try to get her to hospital, do you think?’

‘There’s no time.’ James’s face was rigid, but Kathleen could read the calculations going on behind his eyes. A breech presentation, legs extended, usually required a caesarean in a first-time mother. ‘Give her a sedative, and let’s see if we can help her.’

The next half an hour felt like the longest of Kathleen’s life. She stayed determinedly at James’s side, checking the baby’s heartbeat as he struggled to deliver the child. He was utterly silent, all his concentration focused on getting the legs out, then carefully rotating the baby’s body to bring the shoulders and arms down before he could deliver the head.

Kathleen held her breath as he performed the last part of the manoeuvre. She saw the child’s lifeless-looking body emerge, its bluish-grey skin mottled with blood and greasy white vernix, and her hopes sank. But then, miraculously, a hiccup shook the tiny body and the baby let out a thin, reedy cry that filled the tin shelter, just as the All Clear was sounding.

‘It’s a boy.’ James’s voice was choked. As he turned to Kathleen she saw the emotion written all over his face.

And she found herself crying too, later, when she placed the baby in his mother’s arms for the first time. She and the neighbour stood at the foot of the bed, tears running down their faces as they watched the young woman’s face light up at the sight of her baby son.

‘Poor love,’ the older woman said. ‘She hasn’t had much to smile about up till now. Perhaps this next year will bring us all something good, eh?’

‘Let’s hope so.’ Kathleen smiled through her tears.

They drove back to the hospital, through the now-quiet streets. The bombs had stopped falling, but the firemen and the ARP wardens were still out, dampening down the fires among the smouldering wreckage.

‘It’s been quite an evening, hasn’t it?’ James broke the silence.

‘This is one Christmas dance I certainly won’t forget in a hurry.’ Then Kathleen remembered something and glanced down at herself. ‘You do realise we’re still wearing evening dress?’

‘Good Lord, so we are!’ James laughed. ‘What on earth must that poor woman have made of us, turning up like this? We look as if we’ve just come from the opera!’

After an evening of such high drama, the last thing Kathleen wanted to do was sleep. So when James suggested they should have a nightcap to celebrate the baby’s safe arrival, she accepted without hesitation.

They went down to his office in the basement. It was a tiny space, made even more cramped by the heavy wooden desk, leather chairs and examination couch crammed into it. Behind the desk was a mattress, strewn with bedclothes.

Kathleen sat in one of the armchairs, her knees almost touching James’s as they toasted each other with a glass of sherry.

‘To a good night’s work,’ he said. ‘Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t have managed it without you.’

‘I’m glad I was there. After all the death we’ve seen recently, it makes a nice change to bring a life into the world.’

‘Even so, it took a lot of courage to head out in the middle of an air raid.’ He regarded her over the edge of his glass. ‘Didn’t I say you were brave?’

Kathleen blushed, remembering how she’d crumbled in front of him. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on hers.

She turned away, changing the subject. ‘I see you’re still sleeping down here,’ she commented, nodding towards the mattress on the floor. ‘I suppose you’ve had a few late nights in Theatre recently?’

‘Actually, I’ve left my wife.’

Kathleen whipped round to face him. ‘Oh, God, I had no idea. Why didn’t you say something when I asked about her earlier?’

‘I didn’t feel it was the right moment.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s something I should have done a long time ago, if only I’d had the courage.’ He took a steadying gulp of his drink.

‘So why now?’ Kathleen asked.

He paused for a while, considering. ‘I suppose the war made me realise that life is too short to spend it with the wrong person,’ he said at last.

His eyes met hers, a look so sudden and unexpected it caught her unawares. Kathleen tightened her hands around her glass to stop them trembling.

‘What will you do now?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted heavily. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Simone can have everything. It’s all she’s ever been concerned about anyway. We’ll live apart until she can sue me for desertion. Unless she gets bored and decides to commit adultery, of course.’ Something about the way he said it made Kathleen think that it wouldn’t be for the first time.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘No matter what the circumstances, it can’t be easy to end a marriage. After all, there must have been some happy times?’

‘Must there?’ he said bleakly. ‘I don’t think either of us has been happy for a very long time. In fact, it dawned on me that the happiest moments I’d had recently were the ones I’d spent with you.’

The air was suddenly sucked from the room, making it difficult for her to breathe.

He must have noticed Kathleen’s stunned expression because he said wryly, ‘I think we had better call it a night, before I tell you how I feel about you and frighten you off for ever. If I haven’t terrified you enough already.’

There it was. The moment when Kathleen knew she should put down her drink, bid him a polite goodnight and then close the door on what might have been. But instead she stayed rooted to the spot.

‘Do I look terrified?’ she said.

Hope sparked in his eyes, nearly breaking her heart. ‘Do you mean it?’ he whispered.

Once again, she knew she should go, do the sensible thing. But the pull of attraction was too strong for her to resist.

She thought about the woman’s words, back at the house where they’d delivered the baby.

Perhaps this next year will bring us all something good.

It was about time, Kathleen thought. She had spent too long alone, doing her duty. She was tired, and she was lonely, and she yearned for someone to spend her life with.

James Cooper was watching her, his gaze melting into hers.

‘So what are we going to do about it?’ he asked softly.

IT CAME AS
a surprise to Dora’s family when she announced she was going back to work at the Nightingale at the beginning of January.

‘What made you change your mind?’ her mother asked.

‘I just think it’s about time I made myself useful again,’ Dora replied. She didn’t try to explain that it was a random snatch of song she’d heard from a workman that had convinced her it was the right thing to do. Her mother would think she’d gone potty, and even Dora wasn’t so sure when she stopped to think about it.

But in spite of the sign she had been given, it was still a wrench for her to leave the twins. She’d already come close to losing them once. Was it tempting fate too much to leave them again? she wondered.

It was only the fact that she’d given her word to Matron to return to the Nightingale that made her leave the house on that cold, dark January morning. The twins were already awake in bed, laughing and waving their arms at nothing, and chattering in their own funny language.

‘I’ll be back soon, I promise,’ Dora whispered, planting kisses on their fat cheeks. As she pulled away, she noticed Raggy Aggy’s woolly head poking out from under the covers. Where had she come from? Dora wondered. She hadn’t been able to find her anywhere when she’d put the twins to bed the previous night.

She must have been lost in the bedclothes all the time, Dora decided, tucking the doll under Winnie’s arm.

Matron had assigned her back to the Male Acute ward, which had thankfully emerged from the basement and was now in one of the newly restored ground-floor wards. Sister Holmes was in high spirits as she inspected her new home, filling the linen stores and cupboards and directing the porters around as they wheeled in the beds.

‘Although goodness knows how long we’ll be allowed to stay here this time,’ she said to Dora. ‘I daresay we’ll be back in the basement before the month is out. Honestly, I can’t keep up with it all. One minute we’re upstairs, then we’re down. Another minute we have so many patients we’re having to put extra beds in the corridor, the next we’re packing them all off on a bus to the country while we sit twiddling our thumbs! Still, we’re here for the time being,’ she said. ‘I suppose we must be grateful for small mercies. And at least now I have a properly trained staff nurse to assist me again, which is something,’ she added.

Dora glanced at Daisy Bushell, who was busy polishing the bed frames. Her face was red with effort, loose locks of fair hair falling into her eyes. ‘Has Bushell not been very helpful, Sister?’ she asked.

Sister Holmes sent her a withering look. ‘Bushell,’ she said, ‘is as much help as a leaky bedpan. But what she lacks in skill she makes up for in enthusiasm, I suppose. Which is more than can be said for Jennifer Caldwell.’ She counted another pile of towels and ticked them off on her list. ‘You do know Caldwell is also joining us today?’ she said.

‘No, I didn’t, Sister.’

‘Indeed. Matron has seen fit to bless us with Miss Caldwell’s presence again.’ Sister Holmes finished counting the pile of pillowcases, then frowned and started again. ‘She seems to think the girl would benefit from being in familiar surroundings, given everything that has happened to her.’ She finished her counting for the second time and put another tick on her list.

‘Why? What happened to her, Sister?’

‘Oh, of course. You won’t have heard, will you? The poor girl was injured in a bomb blast. Ended up with a fractured skull and some very nasty scarring from the falling glass. Quite honestly, I’m surprised she wants to see another hospital, after spending so long as a patient. But I suppose we all have to do our bit, don’t we? Now, are these the only drawsheets we have? I thought I’d ordered more.’

If Sister Holmes hadn’t warned her Jennifer Caldwell was coming, Dora would never have recognised her. She barely knew the withdrawn young girl who reported for duty. Unlike the Jennifer Caldwell who used to burst into the ward at least ten minutes late every morning, wearing an incorrigible grin and last night’s make-up, this version seemed to shrink before Dora’s eyes, standing quietly with one hand pressed to her cheek as Sister handed out the work lists.

But it was her eyes that Dora noticed, far more than the pinkish scars that peppered her thin cheeks. The pretty green eyes that had once sparkled with laughter and defiance were now filled with sadness and defeat.

‘Welcome back, Caldwell,’ Dora greeted her.

‘Thank you, Staff.’

‘I heard about what happened to you. I’m sorry.’

‘And I’m sorry for you, too, Staff. About your husband’s brother, I mean.’

Dora tensed against the swift dart of pain. ‘So what made you decide to come back?’ she asked.

Jennifer’s expression was stony. ‘My dad,’ she said shortly. ‘He told me I had to come. I tried to find other work, but there was none available.’

Dora saw the way her head hung down, as if she couldn’t bring herself to face anyone, and understood.

‘I’m sure we can find something useful for you to do here,’ she said.

But as the day wore on, Dora found she missed Jennifer’s merry laughter that used to ring out down the ward, bringing Sister Holmes scuttling angrily from her office more often than not. There was no laughter now, and no flirting as Jennifer silently set about her work. Even Daisy Bushell kept out of her way after her first attempts at conversation were met with snappish replies.

Dora watched Jennifer thoughtfully. She kept her head down as she worked, never making eye contact with anyone, her jaw set, as if grim determination alone could get her through the day.

‘And to think I was worried she might be too lively!’ Sister Holmes said. ‘Now it seems we have the opposite problem. Oh, well, as long as she gets on with her duties and doesn’t upset the patients, I suppose we’ll just have to tolerate it.’

But the patients had other ideas.

‘Cheer up, love, it might never happen!’ one of the young men called out to Jennifer as she helped serve the midday meal.

She stared at him blankly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

It was the first time Dora had heard her utter more than a word since she’d come on duty, and she looked up from doling potatoes on to plates to listen.

‘I said cheer up,’ the young man said, less sure of himself now. ‘You’re far too pretty to be miserable—’

He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence. Jennifer slammed his plate down hard on his bed table, splashing soup all over his covers. Then she turned on her heel and stalked off down the ward.

Dora thrust the plate and serving spoon into Daisy Bushell’s hands and hurried over to where the young man sat, looking bewildered.

‘I didn’t mean to upset her,’ he said. ‘I was only trying to make her smile.’

‘I know,’ Dora reassured him. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, she’s just in a funny mood, that’s all. Let me go and fetch a cloth to clean you up.’

She found Jennifer in the kitchen. She was leaning against the sink with her back to the door, her slim shoulders heaving.

‘What was that about?’ Dora asked. ‘You’re lucky Sister didn’t see you, she would have torn you off a strip.’

‘He was making fun of me.’

‘No, he wasn’t. Why would you think that?’

‘You heard him. He called me pretty.’ Jennifer’s voice was dull, flat.

‘That’s hardly making fun of you.’

‘Isn’t it? Look at me!’ She swung round, her face wet with tears.

Dora regarded her steadily. ‘I am looking at you,’ she said.

‘I’m hardly pretty, am I?’ Jennifer’s voice was hard with self-mockery.

Dora suddenly understood. ‘You know, you can hardly see the scars.’

‘Of course you can see them!’ Jennifer snapped back. ‘I look like a freak!’

‘No, you don’t. Have you seen yourself lately?’

Jennifer turned away, her back to Dora. ‘I never look at myself. Not any more.’

‘Then it’s about time you did.’ Dora snatched up the small mirror propped on the window sill and thrust it at her. ‘Go on, take a look.’

Jennifer hung her head so her chin was pressed against her chest. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Go on!’ Dora grabbed the girl roughly by the shoulders and tried to turn her, but Jennifer averted her gaze from the glass. Her face was so twisted with pain and emotion that Dora gave up. The girl had already been through enough.

She laid the mirror face down on the draining board. ‘You should take a look,’ she said quietly. ‘Perhaps if you did, you might see what the rest of us are seeing.’