The Nightingale Girls (14 page)

‘See?’ Millie said. ‘I told you we’d find our way.’

She stepped off the kerb and almost immediately a car loomed out of the darkness. There was a squeal of brakes, a glare of headlights, and the next thing Millie knew she had landed in an undignified heap.

‘Sweet Jesus, I can’t look. Is she dead?’ Katie whimpered, covering her face.

‘Of course she isn’t!’ Lucy snapped back. ‘Do pull yourself together, O’Hara. I thought you were supposed to be a nurse?’

The car door slammed and the driver appeared out of the fog. He was tall, dark-haired and not much older than Millie.

He looked very shaken when he saw her sitting in the gutter. ‘Are you all right? Oh, God, what happened?’

‘I’m not sure. One minute I was crossing the road, the next you came out of nowhere and nearly ran me over.’ Millie cautiously inspected herself for damage. Her stockings were torn and her knees were skinned and muddy. But her pride was what hurt most of all.

She started to struggle to her feet but the young man grasped her shoulders with his bony hands, holding her down.

‘No, don’t get up. You might have hurt yourself. I’m a doctor,’ he said. ‘I should examine you, make sure you’re not injured.’

‘I’m a nurse, and I’m telling you, I’m quite all right.’ Millie shook off his hands and scrambled to her feet. ‘No thanks to you,’ she added, brushing mud off her coat. ‘What were you thinking, driving like a maniac?’

‘You stepped out in front of me!’

‘You might have been able to stop in time if you hadn’t been speeding!’

They glared at each other. In spite of her anger, Millie wanted to laugh at the young man’s comically furious expression, and the way his hair stuck up, as if he’d just tumbled out of bed.

‘You ought to be more careful,’ he said. ‘You’re not safe to be out on the street.’

‘And you’re not safe behind a wheel.’

‘Is that so? Well, let me tell you I happen to be—’

His words were drowned out by a sickening crunch of metal, so loud Millie almost jumped into his arms. The young man swung round and gave a cry of despair.

‘No!’ he moaned. ‘Oh, no! Bessie!’

Another car door slammed. ‘What’s going on?’ a man’s irate voice yelled. ‘What idiot has parked their car in the middle of the road?’

The young man forgot about Millie and rushed off to inspect the damage to his rear bumper.

‘Serves him right for being such a dangerous driver,’ she said to Katie and Lucy as they watched the two men arguing in the middle of the street, all raised voices and pointing fingers.

‘He must be a doctor at this hospital.’ Katie glanced back at him over her shoulder. ‘I wonder who he is?’

‘Whoever he is, he owes me for a new pair of stockings,’ Millie replied.

Dora was waiting for them in the sitting room. She was perched on the edge of the settee, arms wrapped around herself, staring into the empty fireplace. She got to her feet when she saw Millie.

‘Jennifer Bradley’s going home,’ she blurted out.

Millie frowned at her. ‘But Christmas isn’t for another week?’

‘No, I mean she’s leaving. For good. Her parents are here. They’re waiting in the car while she packs. They wanted to come in but Sister Sutton wouldn’t let them. “Strictly no visitors allowed in the nurses’ home”,’ she parroted the Home Sister’s instructions in disgust.

‘Poor Bradley.’ Millie glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Maybe we could talk to her, try to change her mind?’

‘I’ve tried.’ Dora shook her head. ‘She’s got the idea she’s not good enough to be here.’ Her eyes shifted past Millie to fix coldly on Lucy, standing in the doorway.

Half an hour later Jennifer left. They watched her from the sitting-room window as she trailed miserably to the car, her head hanging low in shame. She didn’t even look back as her father loaded her trunk into the boot.

‘What a pity,’ Katie sighed. ‘She was a grand girl, once you got to know her.’

‘And she tried so hard,’ Millie put in.

‘I really don’t know why you’re all looking so long-faced,’ Lucy said. ‘She was never cut out to be a nurse here. Surely it’s far better she goes now than wastes her own time and everyone else’s.’

‘You’re all heart, aren’t you?’ Dora said in a low voice.

Millie glanced warily at her. She was standing at the window, green eyes blazing in her pale, set face. Her very stillness was menacing.

Lucy didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m just telling the truth, that’s all,’ she said, flipping her plaits haughtily. ‘I can’t help it if some people just aren’t supposed to be here, can I?’

‘I suppose that includes me?’

Lucy shot her a superior look. ‘If the cap fits,’ she said.

‘Now, girls, what’s going on in here?’ Sister Sutton bustled in, Sparky wriggling in her arms. ‘I don’t know why you’re all standing around being idle. There’s always studying to be done and I’m sure none of you is so clever you couldn’t benefit from a few extra hours with your books.’

‘If some of us had books,’ Lucy murmured under her breath. Sister Sutton didn’t hear her, but Dora did. Millie saw the colour rise in her face, flooding up from her neck to her hairline.

‘Go to your rooms, you’re making the place look untidy,’ Sister Sutton dismissed them.

They filed past her. None of them dared to mention that it was their day off, to do with as they please. For once Millie was grateful to see the bullying Home Sister. From the way Dora and Lucy had been looking at each other, she was worried a fight was about to break out.

‘Take no notice of Lane, she’s just a cat,’ she warned Dora as they went back to their room.

‘I don’t care about her,’ Dora said defiantly. But Millie could tell from the dejected droop of her mouth that Lucy’s spiteful barb had hit home.

She knew Dora wouldn’t forget it, either. There was unfinished business between her and Lucy. And next time Sister Sutton might not be there to stop it.

IT WAS THE
week before Christmas, and many of the patients on Holmes were getting ready to go home. It was the consultant’s policy to send as many men as possible back to their families, to give them and the medical staff a chance to enjoy a good Christmas.

There was a definite festive atmosphere in the air. The long, cavernous ward had been brightened up with streamers, paper chains and sprigs of holly. A couple of the nurses had optimistically stuck some mistletoe over the doors, too, but Sister Holmes had ordered it to be taken down in case it gave patients the wrong idea.

That afternoon, once visiting time was over, the porters would bring in the tree and the nurses would decorate it.

‘But I don’t want any mess in the ward,’ Sister Holmes warned them all severely. ‘The first sign of a dropped needle and that tree goes out, Christmas or no Christmas.’

Helen hummed to herself as she went about her tasks. She enjoyed Christmas at the Nightingale. Everyone was in such good spirits. Even the patients were happy, laughing and joking amongst themselves. Fortunately, they were all on the mend and there had been no dramatic admissions over the past week, apart from Mr O’Sullivan and his internal haemorrhoids. But a week after surgery, even he was feeling better.

Charlie Denton was improving, too. His wound had healed up nicely and his splints and supporting pillows had been taken away. Now all he needed was regular
massage and movement to keep his leg muscles working before his temporary prosthetic was fitted. With any luck he would be back on his feet by the New Year.

Helen watched him as he helped Mr Stannard with his crossword.

‘I wonder if she’ll turn up today?’ Amy Hollins voiced the thought that had been going through Helen’s mind at that exact moment.

Charlie Denton’s fiancée Sally had been in to visit him once in the five weeks he’d been in hospital. Helen had taken an instant dislike to the brassy-looking blonde who’d spent ten minutes admiring herself in her compact mirror before announcing she had to go and catch her bus.

Every week Charlie looked for her, and every week there was another excuse for her not coming. One week her mum was poorly, the next she had to go and see her sister in Clacton. He tried to hide his disappointment as best he could, but Helen could see the light fading from his eyes when the doors opened and she wasn’t there.

Bitterness had got the better of him the previous week, when another visiting time was almost over and there was still no sign of his fiancée.

‘I know it’s tough for my Sal, having to see me like this,’ he’d said to Helen. ‘But all the same, you’d think she’d make the effort for my sake, wouldn’t you? I mean, look at Percy over there.’ He’d nodded towards Mr Oliver, who had been moved to the main ward now he was beginning to recover from his head injury. He sat propped up against the pillows, staring glassily into space, almost unaware of the pretty dark-haired girl who sat at his bedside, tenderly stroking his face. ‘His girl comes in to see him every visiting time, even though he doesn’t know she’s there half the time. And I reckon she’d come every
day if she could. They say head injuries change people, don’t they? Make them moody, like? That poor girl doesn’t even know if he’s going to be the same bloke when he gets out of here. And yet she still comes, still loves him with all her heart. You only have to look at her to see that.’

He turned to Helen, blue eyes full of despair. ‘I’m not like that, am I? I haven’t changed. I’m still the same bloke Sal fell in love with. It’s only my leg that’s gone, not up here.’ He touched his finger to his temple.

Helen wished she could say something to comfort him and bring the smile back to his face. But she couldn’t. She could tend his wounds, keep him clean and comfortable, but she couldn’t mend his broken heart. Only Sally could do that.

As another visiting time loomed, Helen hoped his fiancée wouldn’t let him down. She was almost as thrilled as he was when Sally appeared shortly after the visiting bell rang. Helen saw Mr Denton’s face light up when he saw her strutting down the ward towards him in her smart red coat, her hat arranged at a rakish angle on her blonde head. She carried a wicker basket full of fruit – an offering from his mum, Helen guessed. Mr Denton’s father was a costermonger in Columbia Street market, and every week his mum would turn up for visiting time with a basket overflowing with apples, pears, bananas and oranges, which Mr Denton would kindly distribute among the rest of the ward.

She watched Sally place the basket down beside the bed, lean over and kiss her fiancé on the cheek. It didn’t look like the warmest kiss Helen had ever seen, but since she had never been kissed herself she was no judge.

‘Tremayne?’ Sister Holmes jolted her back to reality. ‘While we’re quiet, I want you to go down to the basement and fetch the box of tree decorations. The porters will be bringing the tree up after visiting time.’

‘Shall I go with her, Sister?’ Amy Hollins offered. ‘It will be quicker with two of us.’

‘Good idea, Hollins.’

Helen was surprised at Amy volunteering for extra work. But she found out why as soon as they got down to the basement and Amy disappeared off to the stoke hole for a sneaky cigarette, leaving Helen to search for the box by herself.

The air in the basement was musty, and so cold Helen could see her breath curling in front of her. The feeble electric light barely pierced the gloom, casting long shadows over the bare brickwork.

Helen inched her way between shelves that were crammed with boxes and long-forgotten medical equipment. Old desks, chairs and trolleys covered in dustsheets made sinister shapes that rose out of the shadows at her, making her jump at every turn.

‘I see your Mr Denton’s fiancée has turned up,’ Amy remarked, her voice carrying from the far end of the basement where she perched cosily beside the stoke hole.

‘He’s not my Mr Denton.’

‘Really? You seem to take quite an interest in him. I thought you two were the best of friends.’

Helen bent double to squint at the rows of boxes on the lower shelves, trying to make out their labels in the darkness.

‘She’s probably ditching him,’ Amy said.

Helen stood up so quickly she backed into a drip stand, sending it clattering. ‘That’s an awful thing to say!’

‘Why? It’s what I’d do. What good is a crippled husband to her? Better to end it now than go on with it out of pity, I say.’

‘If she loves him, she’ll stay with him whatever happens.’

‘Then she’s daft. He’ll drag her down and ruin her life.’
Amy appeared at the far end of the basement, cigarette in hand. ‘Think about it. He’ll never be able to work or provide for his family. And as for wanting to go to bed with someone like that—’ She shuddered. ‘No, she’s better off finding a real man who can look after her.’

‘Charlie
is
a real man!’

Helen felt herself blushing as she blurted out the words. Amy’s brows rose questioningly.

‘It’s Charlie now, is it? You really are interested in him, aren’t you? Fancy that – the oh-so-perfect Tremayne falling for a patient. Bet your mother wouldn’t like
that
.’ She smiled wickedly. ‘Maybe someone should tell her? Give you a taste of your own medicine.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Helen protested.

‘Oh, don’t look so panic-stricken. We’re not all tell-tales like you.’ Amy took a long pull on her cigarette. ‘Anyway, you’ll get your chance with him soon enough. Trust me, I know about these things. I bet you sixpence she’ll finish with him today.’ She looked up at Helen through a curling plume of smoke. ‘Have you found those decorations yet? Better get a move on before Sister She-devil sends someone down to look for us.’

I’d find it a lot quicker if you were helping me, Helen thought.

She finally located the battered, dust-covered cardboard box on a top shelf at the far end of the basement.

‘About time, too.’ Amy stubbed out her cigarette and tossed it into the stoke hole as Helen appeared, staggering under its weight. ‘And you’ve got dust all over your apron,’ she added casually. ‘Sister isn’t going to be too pleased about that.’

Visiting time wasn’t yet over by the time they returned to the ward, but Charlie Denton’s fiancée had already gone.