The Nightingale Girls (44 page)

She wiped soap off the blade, aware of Alf watching her every move. ‘And do you know what really upsets me, Alf?’ she said, as she moved the blade towards his chin again. Her face was so close to his she could see the vein throbbing in his temple. ‘People who don’t keep their filthy hands off my sister.’

He gave a squeak of terror and tried to jerk away, but she clamped his chin in her hand, trapping him. ‘No, no,
don’t start jigging about all over the place or I really will do you an injury,’ she warned softly. She tugged his face around to look into her eyes.

‘Are you frightened, Alf?’ she whispered. She let the blade rasp against his skin. ‘You’re not such a big man now, are you?’ He held himself rigid, but she could see his eyes bulging with fear. ‘Do you want me to stop? That’s what we wanted too, me and Josie. But you wouldn’t, would you? You kept on hurting us.’ She smiled, pushing her face closer to his. ‘And do you know what? I’m not going to stop either.’

His eyes screwed shut, his whole body tensed, waiting. She could smell the fear coming off him as she lowered the blade, letting its sharp edge rest just below his ear . . .

I could kill him, she thought. Just one little nick in the right place, and he’d be gone forever.

She lowered the blade. ‘D’you know what? You’re not worth doing time for.’

He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘You’re mad,’ he croaked, his hand going to his throat.

‘Touch my sister again and you’ll see how mad I can be.’ He flinched back as she thrust the blade under his nose. ‘I’m warning you, Alf Doyle. If you so much as lay a finger on Josie again, I’ll come after you. And it’ll take more than a surgeon to put you right.’

Kathleen Fox was shocked to see Helen Tremayne, of all people, standing in front of her desk. She was even more shocked when she found out why.

‘Let me be clear about this.’ She read the notes in front of her again. ‘You were discovered hiding in Sister Sutton’s bathroom late last night, is that correct?’

‘Yes, Sister.’ Tremayne’s head hung low, her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘And may I ask why?’

As Tremayne explained, it was all Kathleen could do not to smile. It was only the young nurse’s utter mortification, and the fact that Miss Hanley was standing hatchet-faced beside her, that stopped her.

‘I see,’ she said, when Helen had finished her stumbling explanation. ‘You gave Sister Sutton quite a fright,’ she observed.

‘Yes, Matron. I’m sorry, Matron.’ Helen’s eyes were red-rimmed, circled by dark shadows. She looked as if she’d been awake all night.

Kathleen looked down at her notes and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud. ‘This is a very serious situation indeed,’ she said. ‘Who knows what Sister Sutton could have been doing when you fell through her bathroom window? It could have been extremely embarrassing.’ She pinched her mouth tight. ‘You have an exemplary record of conduct at this hospital, and I am very disappointed that you have let yourself down.’

‘And no doubt your mother will be very disappointed too,’ Miss Hanley added severely.

Tremayne looked up sharply. ‘Please don’t tell my mother, Matron!’

The fear in her eyes startled Kathleen. She had never seen a girl look so afraid.

‘And why should we not tell her?’ Miss Hanley demanded, clearly enjoying the moment.

‘Because . . . because I’m afraid she will be very vexed,’ Tremayne said lamely.

‘You should have thought of that before you did it, shouldn’t you?’ Miss Hanley said sternly.

Matron saw Tremayne’s chin quiver with the effort of not crying. She could understand how the poor girl felt.
She had seen Mrs Tremayne vexed many times. She had also seen her trailing her daughter around like a pet spaniel, to scold or kick as the mood took her.

‘Since Sister Sutton has very generously agreed to say no more about it, and bearing in mind your exemplary record of conduct up until now, I see no reason to involve your mother,’ she announced. Ignoring Miss Hanley’s gasp of annoyance behind her, she added, ‘However, that does not mean you are off the hook by any means. You broke the rules, and you must be punished. You will have your leave cancelled for the next two weeks. And rest assured that if this happens again, we will have to reconsider whether to inform your mother.’

‘Yes, Matron. Thank you, Matron.’ Relief lit up the nurse’s strained face.

After Tremayne had gone, Kathleen steeled herself for the inevitable reprimand from Miss Hanley.

‘I must say, Matron, that I’m sure if I were Mrs Tremayne I would like to be informed of my daughter’s behaviour,’ she said.

I dare say you would, Kathleen thought. And you’d probably punish her just as severely, too.

‘May I remind you, Miss Hanley, that we do not make a habit of informing other students’ mothers when their daughters misbehave,’ she replied. ‘Or we would be on the telephone or writing letters all day, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, but Constance . . . Mrs Tremayne . . . is different,’ Miss Hanley insisted. ‘She would want to know.’

‘And what good would that do? Nurse Tremayne has already received adequate punishment. After all, I run the nursing staff of this hospital, not Constance Tremayne.’

The maid came in with the tea tray before Miss Hanley could reply. Kathleen quickly changed the subject to the new allocations for the following month. But as she
watched her Assistant Matron sipping tea, she had no doubt that Miss Hanley would tell Mrs Tremayne at the first opportunity.

For poor Helen Tremayne’s sake, Kathleen would have to try to ensure the opportunity did not present itself.

‘Really, Agatha, don’t you think you’re taking it all too seriously? It was only a prank, after all.’

‘Only a prank?’ Agatha Sutton’s eyes grew beady. ‘You may find it amusing, Florence, but I can assure you I do not. In fact, I’m still deeply upset by it. I haven’t been able to venture into my bathroom after dark since.’ She gave a dramatic shudder that set all her chins wobbling. Florence Parker didn’t lift her eyes from her sewing, but Veronica Hanley could see her lips pursed together as she tried to stop herself from smiling.

Miss Hanley herself couldn’t see anything funny about it. She didn’t believe Agatha Sutton was taking it too seriously, either. If anything, it was Matron who was at fault for not considering the Home Sister’s feelings in the matter.

‘I agree, it’s completely unacceptable,’ she said, stabbing her needle into the patchwork. ‘Trespass is very serious, and Helen Tremayne should have been punished severely for what she did to poor Agatha.’

‘You make it sound as if she lay in wait in that bathroom deliberately to jump out at her,’ Florence shook her head. ‘Really, the poor girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ Her blue eyes twinkled. ‘It’s rather funny when you think about it. I wish I’d seen her face!’

She chuckled to herself. Veronica and Agatha exchanged a look of horror. Florence Parker was an excellent nurse, but she could be very modern at times.

‘I really don’t think it’s funny at all,’ Veronica said. ‘It could have been very embarrassing for poor Agatha.’

‘An invasion of my privacy,’ Agatha Sutton put in. ‘Poor Sparky hasn’t been the same since, either.’

At the sound of his name, the little dog lifted his head from where he had been snoozing on the rug at their feet, then sank down again.

‘You see?’ Agatha said. ‘He is utterly traumatised, poor lamb.’

‘So you think Matron should have dismissed Tremayne because of what she did to your dog, is that it?’ Florence’s voice was sharp. ‘Everyone is allowed to make a mistake, surely? Why, I remember when I was young . . .’ She looked up, saw their expressions and her voice trailed off. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ she said briskly. ‘What does matter is that Tremayne is a wonderful nurse and an extremely hard worker. She would be a great loss to this hospital.’

‘I agree with you,’ Veronica said. ‘No one would want to see her dismissed. She is an asset to the Nightingale. I wish there were more like her.’ In fact, Helen was usually one of the few students of whom she whole-heartedly approved. ‘But don’t you see? That is why I feel she should be disciplined. Before she is led astray.’

Agatha Sutton said, ‘Her mother should have been informed, at the very least.’

‘That busybody!’ Florence shook her head. ‘She has her nose stuck into our business far too much as it is.’

‘This hospital is her business,’ Veronica insisted stubbornly. ‘And Helen is her daughter. She has a right to know if the girl is in moral danger . . .’

‘Good heavens, Veronica, you make this place sound like Sodom and Gomorrah!’ Florence stared at her, her eyes narrowing. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of informing Mrs Tremayne yourself?’

‘I think I would want to know, if it were my daughter.’

‘And I think such decisions are best left to Matron. Don’t you agree, Agatha?’

‘I think Veronica must do as her conscience dictates,’ the Home Sister said primly, leaning forward with great effort to offer a biscuit to Sparky.

‘As long as it is her conscience speaking, and not a desire to score points at Matron’s expense? Because such a situation could backfire very badly indeed.’

Veronica was silent, concentrating on her stitching. She could feel Florence’s eyes fixed on her, but refused to meet her gaze.

Florence was wrong, she told herself, this had nothing to do with Matron. Helen Tremayne was an excellent nurse with a bright future ahead of her. It was for the girl’s sake that she had to speak up.

Mrs Tremayne would expect nothing less from her.

FOUNDER’S DAY DAWNED
bright and clear, as if Mrs Tremayne had organised the weather as well as the event itself. She stood in the centre of the courtyard, dressed in all her finery, greeting the guests as they arrived. Music from a string quartet mingled with the chink of china and muted murmurs of polite conversation.

Millie watched them arrive from the window of Holmes Ward. She was sad to miss the fun but their leave had been cancelled because they were far too busy. They had had several emergency admissions over the past few days, and there were extra beds arranged down the middle of the ward. On top of it all, their senior had gone down with glandular fever and there was no one to cover for her.

Not that that had stopped Sister Holmes and Staff Nurse Lund from sloping off to join the party. ‘I am trusting you and Doyle to look after the ward while we’re away,’ Sister instructed them. ‘You know where we are if there are any emergencies, although hopefully you should be able to manage.’ She sent Millie a severe look. ‘Please try not to lose any patients while we are away.’

‘It’s not fair,’ Millie complained to Dora when they had gone. ‘Now I know how Cinderella felt when she wasn’t allowed to go to the ball.’

‘No point moaning about it,’ Dora shrugged. ‘It’s your turn to change Mr Abbott’s dressing, by the way.’

Millie pulled a face. ‘Do I have to?’ She was rather afraid of Mr Abbott. He had been admitted the previous day with a mysterious leg wound. Rumour had it he was a notorious East End villain who had been shot by a rival gangster. Rumour also had it that the police were keeping guard outside the hospital to make sure he didn’t escape.

Sister Holmes had warned them to ignore the gossip. ‘It really should not concern us who or what he is,’ she told them firmly. ‘As far as we are concerned, he is just another patient who needs our care and attention.’

Mr Abbott, for his part, gave nothing away. He was polite and appreciative of the care he was given. But his craggy, scarred face still gave Millie the shivers.

‘I’ll swop with you, if you like?’ Dora offered. She had been in a very good mood since her stepfather had been discharged a week earlier. It must be the relief that he was fully recovered, Millie thought.

‘No, it’s all right. I mustn’t shirk my responsibilities.’

Be professional, she told herself as she washed her hands and took the sterilised swabs and dressings out of the drum. Remember, he’s just another patient.

Mr Abbott was sitting up in bed, reading
Sporting Life
.

‘All right, Nurse?’ he greeted her cheerfully. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Abbott.’ Millie desperately tried not to make eye contact as she carefully removed the dressing from his wound.

‘Quite a to-do outside today. What’s that all about, then?’

‘It’s Founder’s Day. They’re having a garden party in the courtyard.’ She examined the wound. It seemed to be healing nicely.

‘Are you not invited, then?’

‘I’m afraid not. We’re far too busy. Sister and Staff have gone, though.’

‘And they’ve left you and that other young nurse here to hold the fort by yourselves? Shame. That’s not right, is it?’

‘It’s the way of the world for us students, unfortunately.’ Millie worked as quickly as she could, applying the dressing pad and pinning the bandages in place. ‘There, that’s done. How does it feel?’

‘It feels fine, Nurse. You’ve done a good job there.’ As he smiled up at her, Millie tried to drag her gaze away from the faint silvery line running the length of his cheek. ‘And you can be sure I’ll be having words with that sister of yours about leaving you here on your own,’ he said, as Millie pushed back the curtains.

Five minutes later Dora followed her into the sluice room. ‘Shall I take those dressings down to the stoke hole for you?’ she offered.

She really was in a good mood, Millie decided. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged her down to the basement otherwise.

While Dora was gone, Millie went into the kitchen to prepare the drinks. The box of matches was damp, and she was struggling to light one when a voice behind her said, ‘Allow me.’

She turned around. William took a box of matches out of his pocket, struck one and lit the gas.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

‘I’ve brought you a present.’ He handed her a cake, delicately iced in pink. ‘I thought if you couldn’t go to the party, then the party should come to you.’

‘We’re not allowed to eat on the ward, remember?’ Millie turned away from him to fill the kettle under the tap. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you give it to your girlfriend Hollins?’