The Nightingale Girls (34 page)

William sidled up to her while Mr Cooper was quizzing a medical student about the appropriate surgical treatment for fibroids.

‘Hello again,’ he whispered. ‘How are you feeling today? I don’t know about you, but I woke up yesterday with a hellish hangover.’

Millie ignored him, her eyes fixed on Mr Cooper.

‘And if the haemoglobin level is below forty per cent, would you still advise proceeding with surgery?’ he was asking the furiously blushing student.

‘Are you not speaking to me?’ William looked hurt.

‘I don’t want to get into any more trouble,’ she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

‘I certainly wouldn’t want to get you into any,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘But, you see, I still have your shoes and I would like to return them to you.’

Millie shot him a panicked look as Mr Cooper turned to address the group. ‘Quite right,’ he said, his powerful voice carrying across the ward. ‘In such cases surgery would carry an increased risk of post-operative complications such as embolism or femoral thrombosis. But fortunately your haemoglobin levels are perfect, are they not, Mrs Chattis?’ He bestowed one of his dazzling movie star smiles on the patient, who simpered as if he’d just paid her a wonderful compliment.

‘Leave them at the porters’ lodge,’ Millie whispered.

‘And start the whole hospital gossiping about why I have them?’ William looked amused.

Millie thought about it for a moment. Perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea. ‘Meet me in the courtyard at six o’clock.’

He was there waiting for her, sitting on a bench under
the plane trees when she arrived a few minutes after her duty finished.

‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he said.

‘Do you have my shoes?’

He handed them over, and she started to walk away.

‘Wait,’ he called after her. ‘Is that it?’ He sounded disappointed.

Millie looked back over her shoulder at him. ‘Was there something else you wanted?’

‘I don’t know . . .’ He looked awkward. ‘I thought you might . . . you know . . . want to talk about the other night?’

‘Definitely not.’ Millie stared at the shoes in her hand. ‘In fact, I would prefer it if that night hadn’t happened.’

‘Oh. Right. I see.’ William looked deflated.

‘You do know your sister reported me, don’t you?’

He frowned. ‘Helen wouldn’t do that.’

‘She told you to stay away from me, didn’t she?’

‘Only because she wanted to protect you from me.’ William smiled sheepishly.

‘And I suppose she was trying to protect Peggy Gibson, too?’

He went very still. He had the same blank look on his face that Helen had done when Millie mentioned the name. ‘What do you know about her?’ he asked quietly.

‘I know your sister got her dismissed from this hospital. Over a bottle of gin, wasn’t it?’ She curled her lip. ‘I bet Helen was very proud of herself for that.’

‘It wasn’t Helen’s fault. Peggy broke the rules—’

‘Everyone breaks the rules sometimes. But we don’t tell on each other. We’re supposed to help each other, not stab one another in the back.’

‘Helen tried to help Peggy.’

‘Gosh, she’s terribly helpful, isn’t she? She tried to help Peggy and she gets thrown out, then she tries to protect
me and
I
almost get dismissed too. She’s all heart, I’d say.’

William stood up, towering over her. His dark hair still sprouted upwards, defying his attempts to flatten it. ‘Look, it wasn’t like that. Helen really did care for Peggy. And it wasn’t just a bottle of gin that got her thrown out, it was . . .’

‘Go on,’ Millie said quietly.

William paused for a long time. Millie could almost see his mind working, searching for the right words.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve already said too much. Helen would kill me if I told you.’ He sounded wretched. ‘All I can tell you is, you mustn’t blame Helen for what happened to Peggy. They were good friends. It was because she was a good friend that Helen – did what she did.’

Millie stared at him. There was a longing in his dark eyes, just as she’d seen in his sister’s. As if there was something he wanted to tell her, a secret he was desperate to share.

‘You have to trust me.’ He held on to her hands, gripping them tighter as she tried to pull away. ‘If Helen says she didn’t report you, then I’d bet my life on it that she didn’t. My sister is no sneak, Millie. And she doesn’t set out to hurt people either.’

‘But Peggy—’

‘For God’s sake, stop talking about her!’ William cut her off impatiently, startling her. ‘Helen didn’t get her into trouble. She saved her life!’

‘What do you mean?’ Millie asked softly.

William paused for a moment. Millie could see all kinds of conflicting emotions battling in his face. Then, finally, he took a deep breath and said, ‘Peggy was a very – emotional girl. She got herself very upset about something and tried to take her own life. Helen found her just in
time. She begged Peggy to get help, but she refused. Helen was desperately worried she would try to kill herself again and next time she wouldn’t be there to save her. So she did the only thing she could, and told our mother.’

‘But I heard—’

‘You heard she was found smuggling in a bottle of booze?’ William finished for her. ‘That was the story everyone came up with. Her parents were very upset, you see. They didn’t want anyone to know the truth about their daughter’s – distress – so everyone decided it would be best to come up with the gin story. And Helen went along with it.’

‘Even though she knew everyone would think she was a sneak?’ Millie could hardly believe it. Poor Helen, the other girls were so cruel to her. If it was her, she was sure she would be tempted to clear her name and tell them the truth.

William seemed to guess her thoughts. ‘Now do you believe my sister can be trusted?’ he said. ‘Believe me, Helen knows how to keep secrets.’

There was something about the way he said it that made Millie look at him. ‘What was it that upset her so much that she tried to kill herself?’ she asked.

He was silent for a long time, his lips pressed together as if he was trying to hold the words in.

‘She fell for the wrong man and he let her down badly,’ he said.

One look at his eyes, so dark and intense, and Millie knew his sister wasn’t the only one who guarded their secrets.

‘
WHO’S THERE? IS
that you, Gwen?’

The old lady’s opaque, sightless eyes searched for Helen in the darkness as she sat beside the bed, holding her hand. It felt like a child’s, fragile bones under papery skin.

‘It’s me, Mrs Rodgers. Nurse Tremayne.’

Not that it mattered now. Mrs Rodgers was nearly eighty and beyond knowing anyone, even herself. The end was very near.

Mrs Rodgers turned her head away restlessly. In the dim light her scalp gleamed through sparse tufts of white hair. Helen was relieved she was quiet at last. All night she had been thrashing around, crying out in a panic, calling out for Gwen. Whether it was a sister or a daughter, Helen didn’t know. She had done her best to calm her fears, sitting with her and holding her hand, even though Amy Hollins complained bitterly at the extra work she’d had to do.

‘I don’t know why you’re making so much fuss,’ she’d said. ‘It’s not as if the old girl even knows you’re there.’

But Helen did it anyway, holding on to her hand and trying to reassure her. No one deserved to die alone.

Although she didn’t seem to be alone. All through the night, Mrs Rodgers had talked to the invisible souls who gathered around her bedside.

‘I’m not ready to go,’ she insisted over and over again, her voice blurred and mumbling. ‘Not until I’ve seen Gwen.’

Finally, as the pink light of dawn was beginning to creep around the drawn blinds, she lifted her head off the pillow and looked at Helen with such intensity that for a moment it was as if she could really see her.

Her gaping, toothless mouth broke into a smile. ‘Gwen,’ she said. ‘You’ve come at last.’

She gave a sigh of contentment, turned her face away, and was gone.

Helen put her fingers to Mrs Rodgers’ throat to satisfy herself there was no pulse. Then she calmly got up and pulled the screens around the bed.

Amy was very put out when she emerged from the kitchen, where she had been buttering bread for breakfast.

‘Typical!’ she snorted. ‘Why couldn’t she have hung on an hour longer? Now we’re going to have to deal with it ourselves before the day staff come on.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Helen said.

‘Really?’ Amy looked relieved. ‘If you’re sure?’ she said, although it was obvious she wasn’t going to volunteer to help.

Helen sent the runner to fetch the Night Sister, who in turn informed the Duty Registrar. He arrived, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and declared what everyone already knew, that cancer had eaten its way into Mrs Rodgers’ bones, brain and every organ in her body. The porters arrived and transferred her body to the side room while Helen gathered everything she needed on the trolley, washed her hands and donned gloves and a clean apron.

She took her time, washing the old lady with care and respect. Mrs Rodgers was no bigger than a child, her wrinkled skin hanging loosely from thin bones. Helen was astonished she had managed to keep death at bay for as
long as she had, when there was no strength left in her frail, emaciated body.

Sister Hyde came in as Helen was fastening the shroud. She was the most fearsome of all the sisters at the Nightingale, bristling efficiency in her immaculate grey uniform, her cap fastened in a crisp bow under her square chin. Helen fought the urge to jump to attention.

‘Good gracious, Nurse, what are you doing here? Hollins went off duty fifteen minutes ago.’

‘I wanted to finish preparing Mrs Rodgers before I left, Sister. Hollins offered to stay and help me,’ she lied quickly.

‘Did she indeed? That hardly sounds like Hollins.’ Sister Hyde looked down at Mrs Rodgers’ face, encircled by the white shroud. ‘So she’s gone at last. I hope it was peaceful?’

‘Yes, Sister. Quite peaceful.’

‘I’m glad. She suffered quite dreadfully towards the end.’ Sister Hyde sighed, and for a moment her face lost its severe expression. Then she recollected herself and said, ‘Tonight is your last night on this ward, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘Do you know where you will be sent next?’

‘Wren, Sister.’

‘Gynae? That will make a change for you. Rather a lively ward, so I’m told.’ Sister Hyde looked thoughtful. ‘It’s very commendable that you should want to stay and do this. I wish all students were as conscientious as you. I shall certainly mention you in the ward report.’

‘Thank you, Sister.’

It was almost half-past eight when the porter came to escort Mrs Rodgers down to the mortuary. Helen had missed breakfast, so she headed straight to bed in the night corridor. But it wasn’t easy to sleep with the maid clattering noisily outside the door with her broom, and
Miss Hanley stomping to and fro down the corridor to the staff linen room.

She slept fitfully, haunted by dreams of Mrs Rodgers clawing at her hands and calling out to her. She woke up at midday, stiff and aching, foggy-headed with lack of sleep. Wearily she got up and dragged on her dressing gown.

Opening her door, she didn’t see the figure sitting on the floor outside her room until she fell over them.

‘Oops, sorry, I didn’t – Benedict?’ Helen rubbed her gritty eyes. ‘What are you doing down there?’

‘Waiting for you.’ Millie clambered to her feet, brushing herself down. ‘I’m supposed to be at dinner but I wanted to see you before I went back on duty.’

Helen’s heart sank. ‘I’m not in the mood for another argument,’ she sighed, shouldering past her.

‘I don’t want to argue. I just wanted to say I was sorry,’ Millie said.

Helen stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face her.

‘I know you didn’t sneak to Matron about me really. And even if you did, I probably deserved it.’ Millie was gabbling on, the words tumbling out so fast Helen could hardly keep up with them. ‘After all, I did break just about every rule in the book, stumbling around the ward like a drunken maniac . . .’

‘I didn’t report you,’ Helen said.

‘I know you didn’t. That’s what I’m trying to say although I know I’m making a frightful hash of it. I spoke to William, you see, and he told me about what happened with Peggy Gibson. He said there was no chance you would ever—’

‘What did he tell you about Peggy Gibson?’ Helen cut in, panic beating in her chest.

‘He told me the real reason she had to leave.’

‘He had no right to do that. It was supposed to be a secret.’

‘It’s all right, I won’t tell anyone else,’ Millie said solemnly. ‘Don’t be angry with him, he only did it for your sake.’

‘Even so, he had no right to say anything,’ Helen fumed. ‘I made a promise to Peggy . . .’

‘Your secret is safe with me, I swear. It’s the least I can do, after the horrible way I spoke to you.’ Millie looked up at Helen sheepishly from under her fair curls. ‘Can you ever forgive me? I’d like us to be friends.’

It was a long time since anyone had wanted anything to do with her. Helen smiled warily. ‘I’d like that too.’

‘I’m so pleased!’ Millie’s pretty face lit up. ‘And I’d really like to make it up to you, if I can. Doyle and I are planning a trip up west to have tea at the Lyons’ Corner house in The Strand as soon as we have time off on the same day. Doyle’s never been, can you imagine? I’d like you to come with us.’

Helen shook her head, immediately ready to refuse. ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t.’

‘Nonsense, it will be fun.’

Helen’s mind raced. Surely even her mother couldn’t object to her going out for tea with a couple of other students? ‘If you’re sure I won’t be in the way?’ she said.

‘Absolutely not. It wouldn’t be the same without you.’

Helen was still smiling to herself as she washed and dressed later. It was strange to think she might actually have a friend. She had become so used to being on her own, she hadn’t realised how lonely she was.

It had been that way ever since Peggy Gibson left. Poor Peggy, she had been the closest to a friend Helen had had at the Nightingale. They didn’t exactly have a lot in
common – Peggy was as bubbly, vivacious and popular as Helen was serious, thoughtful and solitary. But like Millie Benedict, she was kind-hearted and persevered in trying to make friends with Helen.