The Nightingale Girls (29 page)

‘Yes, yes Mr Hopkins. Everything’s fine. Thank you.’

Edwin Hopkins saw the little skip in Nurse Tremayne’s step as she crossed the courtyard. It was lovely to see the way her eyes lit up as she saw the letter. That young man who’d come in to deliver it must mean a lot to her, he decided.

‘Is that kettle boiled yet, Mr Hopkins?’ One of the porters called out from the back room.

‘I’m doing it now.’ He smiled to himself as he turned off the gas and warmed the teapot. Maybe Nurse Tremayne would get to do a bit of gadding after all, he thought.

Helen could feel her letter burning a hole in her pocket all the way through the first two hours of her duty. She didn’t dare get it out and read it, although she was absolutely desperate.

Her first emotion when Mr Hopkins had given her the letter was of happiness that Charlie Denton had remembered her. But by the time she’d reached the ward, she’d already convinced herself that it must be bad news. He had changed his mind about taking her out, and was trying to extricate himself as best he could from an awkward situation. For all Helen knew, Sally might even have decided to give him a second chance.

Helen didn’t blame him. She knew all about patients who formed romantic attachments to the nurses who cared for them, only to realise their mistake once they returned
to their real lives. She should just be grateful that he had thought enough of her to set her straight, she decided firmly.

That night she couldn’t wait for Amy to go off for her midnight rendezvous in the kitchen with the junior doctors, so she could have some time to read her letter in peace. She sat at the ward desk and read by the dim green-shaded light. All around her, the women filled the air with their low moans, but Helen was too lost in her letter to notice.

Dear Helen
,

I hope you don’t mind me writing to you. I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me, but here I am, turning up like a bad penny. I just thought I’d let you know how I’m getting on
.

I’ve settled back into my old life, enjoying seeing my mates and going to the pub, just like you said. No work yet, but that’s to be expected, I suppose. I’m sure something will come along. Anyway, I’m getting around a lot on the new leg, and surprising everyone with what I can do. My dad reckons it won’t be long before I’m playing for Orient. Mind you, the way they’ve been playing lately, I reckon even a bloke with one leg would be an improvement! I still get a bit down sometimes, but whenever I start to feel sorry for myself, I hear your voice in my head, telling me to count my blessings. I reckon I needed that kick up the backside you gave me, although I can’t say I was happy about it at the time!

Listen to me, rabbiting on about myself. How are you getting on? How is night duty? It’s only another six weeks till you finish, isn’t it? You see, I’m counting the days. I still want to take you out when
you get off. I want to show you how well I’m doing – you never know, I might even take you dancing by then!

Seriously, Helen, I know you’ve probably forgotten all about me – heaven knows, you must have patients asking you out all the time. But it really would mean a lot to me if you gave me a chance. Promise me you’ll think about it, anyway.

I’ll be in touch again next month. In the meantime, I’ll have my fingers crossed you’ll say yes
.

Yours
,

Charlie Dento
n

P.S. Sorry for writing to you at the hospital. I hope it doesn’t get you into any trouble with your Matron.

Helen laid the letter in her lap and paused for a moment, savouring it. The paper was smudged with ink and covered with crossings out, but to her it was as beautiful as one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

Charlie Denton hadn’t forgotten her. He still thought about her, and he was counting the days until he could take her out.

She could never accept, she knew that. Her mother would never allow it. But it was still nice to know that somewhere out there, someone cared.

‘Nurse? Nurse, come here at once!’ Mrs Mortimer’s voice rang out imperiously from the darkness, breaking into her pleasant thoughts. Helen put her letter down and tiptoed down the ward.

‘What is it, Mrs Mortimer?’

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Mortimer. Here, let me try to make you more comfortable.’

‘More comfortable? These wretched pillows feel as if they’ve been stuffed with coal. And I don’t know what you’re grinning at.’ She glared at Helen through the darkness. ‘Are you an idiot, girl?’

‘No, Mrs Mortimer.’ Helen tried hard not to smile as she plumped up the pillows. Charlie Denton hadn’t forgotten her, and not even Maud Mortimer could wipe the smile off her face tonight.

‘
WHAT EXACTLY DO
you think you’re playing at, Nurse Doyle?’

Dora squirmed under Sister Blake’s withering gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ she mumbled. ‘I thought it was a joke.’

‘A joke?’ Sister’s voice rose in disbelief. ‘Do I look as if I’m laughing, Doyle? Does poor Mr Wenham look as if he’s laughing?’

‘No, Sister.’ Dora kept her gaze fixed on the white-tiled wall of the sluice. The last half-hour had been a slowly unravelling nightmare.

It had all started when Mr Wenham had asked her for help with his urinal. ‘It’s a bit awkward with my poorly back.’ He winced. ‘If you could just reach down there and arrange it all, so to speak . . .’

But Dora had already caught the twinkling eye of the man in the next bed as she took the bottle behind the screens, and knew this was yet another of their pathetic jokes. Two months after she’d started on the ward, the men still hadn’t stopped tormenting her. Blushing, she’d panicked and thrust the urinal under the covers then shot off through the screens as fast as she could. It wasn’t until she had been summoned to account to Sister Blake for why she had refused to help an immobile patient, that she’d realised it wasn’t a joke.

Cleaning up wasn’t a joke, either. Dora was too mortified to meet Mr Wenham’s eye as she stripped off the soiled
bedding. The poor man didn’t know where to put himself.

‘Sorry, Nurse,’ he kept mumbling.

‘This is not the first time this has happened, is it, Doyle? I seem to recall several similar incidents when you’ve left a patient struggling.’

Heat spread up her chest, flooding her neck and face. ‘I’m sorry, Sister.’

‘Is there something I should know, Doyle?’

Dora looked up sharply. ‘I – I don’t know what you mean, Sister.’

‘I mean, do you have some kind of problem dealing with men?’

Sister Blake’s keen eyes were fixed on her, as if she could see right into her head. Dora dropped her gaze quickly.

‘N-no, Sister.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ When Sister Blake spoke again, her voice was gentler, more understanding. ‘Look, I was a student myself once. I realise that dealing with male patients can be embarrassing and alarming for a young girl, but it is a very necessary part of nursing.’

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘I also realise that you seem to have had more than your fair share of teasing from some of the young men on the ward. They seem to regard you as particularly good sport, so I’ve heard?’

Dora allowed herself to look up at Sister Blake. Her brown eyes were full of sympathy.

‘You do realise they only pick on you because they know they can get a reaction? If you can manage to conceal your feelings and laugh it off, the teasing may stop.’ Sister Blake laid a hand on her arm. ‘Try to play them at their own game, Doyle. For your own sake,’ she
advised. ‘I would hate to have to put this incident in the ward report.’

Dora thought about her words all the way through dinner. As the other pros excitedly swapped stories of their experiences on the wards, she sat mute with misery. If she didn’t buck up her ideas, she would never be a nurse. But how could she ever overcome her terror of touching a man’s body? If she wasn’t careful, Alf Doyle’s poison was going to seep in and infect her future, just as he’d infected her past.

The sound of laughter from the far end of the table made her look up. She saw Lucy Lane’s face and realised the joke was directed at her.

‘O’Hara’s been telling us about your latest mess in Male Orthopaedics,’ she announced down the length of the table. ‘Really, Doyle, how do you expect to make a nurse if you can’t even give someone a bottle?’

Dora stared at her coldly. She knew they would never be friends, but had hoped after saving Lucy’s bacon during the PTS exam that the other girl might stop taunting her. But no such luck. It was as if she had pushed the whole incident to the back of her mind, pretending it had never happened.

‘We can’t all be top of the class like you, can we?’ replied Dora. ‘You’ll have to give me some tips. I’ve heard you’re a dab hand in the kitchen?’

Lucy’s cheeks coloured, and Dora knew her barb had hit home. Lucy left her alone for the rest of the meal, although Dora had to listen to her bragging to the other girls about how Sister Wren had praised her bed-making skills.

‘Sorry,’ Katie O’Hara caught up with Dora as they left the dining room. ‘I didn’t mean to make fun of you, honest to God. I was only telling the girls what had happened.’

‘It’s all right.’ Dora shrugged. ‘I know what Lane’s like. She never misses a chance to have a go at me.’

‘She’s got a mouth on her, right enough,’ Katie said. ‘Listen, are you coming to sit with us tonight? We all finish at six so we’re going to do a bit of studying in Brennan’s room. Lane won’t be there,’ she reassured Dora hastily. ‘She reckons she doesn’t need to revise as much as us slowcoaches.’

‘She wants to revise some manners,’ Dora said. For all her airs and graces, Lucy Lane knew nothing about being a lady.

‘True enough. So are you coming or not?’

‘Later,’ Dora said. ‘I want to go to the porters’ lodge first.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Katie wiggled her eyebrows. ‘You’ve been paying a few visits there lately. Got your eye on someone, have you?’

‘Hardly. I owe someone a favour, and it’s about time I paid him back.’

‘Aye aye, Mr H. Here comes your mate!’

Edwin Hopkins looked up from tuning his radio, irritated at the interruption. He’d been looking forward to hearing Marjorie Westbury and the BBC Orchestra.

He was even more irritated to see that wretched ginger-haired nurse stomping across the courtyard towards the lodge again. Now he’d miss Marjorie completely.

‘What does she want this time?’ he sighed.

‘Same as she wanted all the other times, I expect.’ Percy Carson grinned. ‘Our Nick.’

‘No prizes for guessing why, I suppose,’ Edwin Hopkins muttered to himself. Nick Riley was a hard enough worker, but he had trouble written all over him.

‘How many times has she been round here? Must be at least once a week. You’d think she’d take the hint by now, wouldn’t you?’ Davey Johnson said.

‘Maybe she’s in trouble?’ Percy suggested.

‘Wouldn’t be the first time a nurse has found herself in bother,’ Davey agreed.

‘No wonder Nick runs a mile, then!’

‘Now, I won’t have that kind of talk in here,’ Edwin Hopkins warned them. He didn’t hold with bad-mouthing young ladies. Even if some of them were no better than they ought to be.

He glanced at the ginger girl. He almost felt sorry for young Nick if she got hold of him. She struck him as a bit of a firecracker.

He met her at the door to the lodge. ‘Before you ask, he’s gone. And you needn’t think about barging your way in to look for him the way you did before, because he’s not here, see?’ Hopkins sidestepped to block Dora’s way as she craned her neck to look over his shoulder.

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said bluntly.

‘I’ll have you know, I’ve never told a lie in my life, young lady.’ Edwin Hopkins’ moustache bristled with indignation. ‘If I say he isn’t here, then he isn’t.’

The girl frowned. She didn’t look like Nick’s type, thought Hopkins. He usually went for the pretty ones, the ones who fluffed and primped and giggled. Not ones with sturdy legs, frizzy hair and an expression that looked as if they were wondering who to hit next.

‘Did he get my letters?’ she asked.

Edwin Hopkins nodded. ‘Of course he did. I handed them over right away.’ He didn’t like to tell her Nick had stuffed them straight in his pocket without even looking at them. He didn’t reckon Nick Riley was much of a reader.

The wind whipped the girl’s red curls across her face and she pushed them back, tucking them behind one ear. She stood there, looking around her, at a loss for what to do next.

Edwin felt a lurch of pity for her. For all her front, she was only young. He hoped she wasn’t in trouble, poor girl. If she was, she wouldn’t get much help from Nick Riley.

‘Look, Miss, if you’ve got any sense, you’ll stop coming around here looking for him,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s plain he doesn’t want to see you. And it’s unladylike to go around chasing after a man, especially when he’s not interested.’

The girl stared at him blankly. ‘You think I’m interested in Nick Riley?’

‘Why else would you be coming round here all the time?’

Her mouth firmed. ‘That’s none of your business. Do you know where he might be?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Edwin Hopkins replied huffily, all his fatherly concern gone. ‘What he does in his own time is his concern, not mine – or yours either, come to that.’

‘Have you tried the boxing club on Ratner Row?’ Percy Carson came up behind them. ‘Nick usually goes down there to train on a Tuesday after work.’

Edwin Hopkins shot him a frowning look. Carson always had a bit too much to say for himself.

‘Ratner Row, you say? Thanks very much.’

‘You didn’t want to be telling her that,’ Hopkins scolded as she walked away.

‘Come on, Mr Hopkins, have a heart. Can’t you see the poor girl’s desperate?’

‘That’s as may be, but I don’t hold with young ladies chasing after men.’

‘Looking like her, I don’t s’pose she’s got much option but to chase them!’ Davey put in unkindly.

‘There’s no need for that either.’ Edwin Hopkins shot a quick glance at the girl, hoping she hadn’t heard.

It wasn’t right for a young lady to hear that sort of remark.