Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Donna Douglas
Title Page
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Copyright
About the Book
For the first time, a Nightingale nurses novel set during the First World War. Follow the senior staff as they overcome the trials of their training years. From Sunday Times top ten bestselling author, Donna Douglas.
East London, 1914: Britain is preparing for war. As young men queue up across the country to enlist, the Nightingale Hospital has its own set of new recruits …
Anna has had a happy upbringing in her parent’s bakery in Bethnal Green. But as war descends her family’s German roots will wrench them apart in ways Anna never could have imagined.
Kate dreams of following in her father’s footsteps and becoming a doctor. With female doctors virtually unheard of, it will take courage to face off the prejudice around her.
Sadie joins the Nightingale Hospital for a new life away from her mother’s interference. But the legacy of her family may not be so easy to escape …
As the shadow of war descends, will the promise of Christmas help to bring the students together?
About the Author
Donna Douglas lives in York with her family and two cats. When she is not busy writing, she is generally reading, watching Netflix or drinking cocktails. Sometimes all at the same time.
Also available by Donna Douglas
The Nightingale Series
The Nightingale Girls
The Nightingale Sisters
The Nightingale Nurses
Nightingales on Call
A Nightingale Christmas Wish
Nightingales at War
Nightingales Under the Mistletoe
A Nightingale Christmas Carol
The Nightingale Christmas Show
The Nurses of Steeple Street Series
The Nurses of Steeple Street
District Nurse on Call
Acknowledgements
As ever, a massive thanks to the team at Arrow, especially my editors Emily Griffin and Cassandra Di Bello, the design team for coming up with another great cover, and the brilliant sales and marketing guys for making the Nightingale series such a success. I literally couldn’t have done it without you all.
Thanks also to my wonderful and ever-patient agent Caroline Sheldon for listening to (and trying to make sense of) all my wild and crazy ideas. And to my even more long-suffering family, especially my husband Ken, for doing the same for so many years.
A huge thank you to my readers, who have supported me throughout the Nightingale series, and who have written to tell me how much they’ve enjoyed the books. I hope you take the next intake of Nightingales to your hearts as much as you have the old!
Finally, I’d like to take a moment to remember Marjorie Lilian Riche, the extraordinary woman who took on a kid no one else wanted. She would have been 100 years old this year. She went through life never thinking she was anyone special. But her humour and her down-to-earth London warmth is at the heart and soul of every story I tell. As ever, this one’s for you, Mum.
To Jacqui and Brian Quennell,
with much love
Chapter One
Christmas Eve 1913
‘Verdammt!’ Anna muttered under her breath.
‘I heard that,’ her sister Liesel said from the other side of the bakery kitchen. ‘I’m going to tell Mother you said a bad word.’
‘I couldn’t help it.’ Anna put down her piping bag and scowled at the blob of icing on the pristine surface of the Christmas cake. It had taken her hours to create the delicate tracery of intertwined holly and ivy leaves, and now it was ruined.
‘Let’s have a look.’ Her father’s apprentice Edward Stanning abandoned the mound of dough he was kneading and came across the kitchen to inspect the damage. ‘It’s not too bad,’ he said. ‘Nothing that can’t be put right, anyway.’
Anna bent over the cake, smoothing out the blob with the tip of her finger. ‘But I really wanted it to be perfect. Papa said it’s for a special customer.’
‘Anna made a mista-ake,’ Liesel taunted her in a sing-song voice. ‘Papa won’t ever trust you to help him again.’
‘Oh, shut up, Liesel!’ Anna snapped. ‘No wonder I can’t concentrate, with you chattering away all the time!’
Liesel stuck out her tongue. ‘I can’t help it if I’m cheerful, can I? It’s Christmas Eve.’
‘As if I didn’t know!’ Anna straightened up and mopped her brow with the hem of her apron. Outside the steamed-up kitchen window, flurries of snow were swirling in the icy wind, but Anna could feel rivulets of perspiration trickling down between her shoulder blades. ‘I’ve been up since the early hours, helping Papa light the ovens and get the first batches of loaves ready. While you were still snoring in bed,’ she accused.
‘I do not snore!’ Liesel turned pink. ‘Anyway, I barely had a wink of sleep, with you two banging about down here, clattering trays and singing at the top of your voices.’
‘Papa likes to sing Christmas carols as he works.’ ‘Stille Nacht’ and ‘Ir Kinderlein Kommet’ were his favourites at this time of year.
‘“Ir Kinderlein, kommet. O kommet doch all,”’ Edward sang a few bars.
‘“Zur Krippe her kommet in Bethlehems Stall,”’ Anna joined in.
‘Stop it, you two. You sound like a pair of cats fighting in the alley.’ Liesel clamped her hands over her ears. ‘You’re supposed to be working, remember?’
‘So are you,’ Anna said. ‘Have you checked those loaves in the oven? They should be done by now.’ She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly three o’clock, just an hour until closing time, but the bell over the shop door hadn’t stopped ringing since their father opened up first thing that morning.
‘I know what I’m doing, thank you,’ Liesel said huffily. ‘Just because you’re the eldest doe
sn’t mean you can boss me about.’
‘I’m not bossing you about, I’m just reminding you. You can be careless, you know.’
‘Speak for yourself! You’re the one who’s just ruined Papa’s cake!’
Anna turned her attention mournfully back to the cake on the pedestal in front of her. She had managed to smooth the blob of icing down to barely a smudge, but she could still see it.
‘Anyway, I don’t even know why I have to help out in the kitchen,’ Liesel went on sulkily. ‘I should be behind the counter with Mother as usual.’
‘You know Papa likes to be in the shop himself at Christmas.’ Anna could hear her father, beyond the doors that led to the shop, laughing and joking with his customers. He would be handing out marzipan treats to all the children, and teaching them to say ‘Frohe Weihnachten’. Besides, you only want to be out there so you can flirt with all the boys.’
‘That’s not true!’ Liesel blushed furiously to the roots of her blonde hair.
‘Don’t tease your sister.’ Edward grinned at Anna. ‘She’s sixteen, she’s allowed to flirt with whoever she likes.’
‘That’s right.’ Liesel preened herself. ‘Anyway, Papa says it cheers the customers up to see a pretty face behind the counter. Which is probably why he makes you stay in the kitchen!’ she laughed.
‘I stay in the kitchen because I’m the only one Papa can teach!’ Anna snapped back, but she was stung. She was only too aware that Liesel was the one who had inherited their mother’s fair hair and blue eyes, while Anna herself was slight and auburn-haired like their father. At sixteen, Liesel was all soft curves, while Anna at twenty-one was still waiting for her boyish figure to blossom. When she looked in the mirror, all she saw were her faults; dark eyes that were too small, skin that was too sallow, and a chin that was far too pointed ever to be called pretty.
‘Anyway, I like being in the kitchen,’ Anna said defiantly. Especially at this time of year, with it so warm against the bitterly cold weather outside, and the air rich with the fragrance of cinnamon, cloves, almonds, sugar and freshly baked bread.
Every surface was covered by trays of cooling loaves and pies. And then there were the Christmas specialities from her father’s native Germany: spiced ginger Lebkuchen, sugary biscuits so delicate they melted in your mouth, and his favourite Stollen, fruit loaves with a thick dusting of snowy powdered sugar and a heart of rich marzipan.
And finally there were the Christmas cakes, carefully packed away in their boxes and tied with ribbon. Each one was unique, beautifully decorated with delicate traceries of sugarwork that sparkled like frost. ‘A labour of love,’ her father always called them.
‘And if Anna had been stuck in the shop we might never have spent any time together. And then we might never have fallen in love.’ Edward put his arms around her and nuzzled her neck.
Liesel scowled. ‘I’ll tell Papa—’
At that moment the door to the kitchen opened and Friedrich Beck came in, followed closely by their mother.
‘All I’m saying is you shouldn’t have let her have it,’ Dorothy Beck was protesting. ‘She hasn’t paid us for last month yet.’
‘It’s Christmas, my dear. Was I supposed to turn the poor woman away?’ Even after twenty-five years, Friedrich’s accent was still laced with German.
‘Poor woman!’ Dorothy replied scornfully. ‘We’ll be the poor ones, if you keep letting everyone have things on tick. You know we’ll never see that money, don’t you?’
Anna and Liesel exchanged knowing looks across the kitchen.
‘She has been coming to my shop for ten years,’ Friedrich said. ‘Mrs Jarvis is one of my best customers.’
‘When she pays her bill!’
Friedrich stepped smartly towards his wife, trapping her face between his hands and planting a kiss on her brow.
‘It will be all right, I promise. Now, don’t be cross. It’s Christmas.’
She pushed him away, blushing. ‘Your father’s a fool, girls,’ she said, but she was smiling in spite of herself as she said it. ‘He thinks he’s Father Christmas, giving away gifts to everyone!’
‘And your mother is – what is his name? The man in the English book, by your Charles Dickens?’ Friedrich frowned, trying to remember.
‘Ebenezer Scrooge, sir?’ Edward supplied helpfully.
‘Yes! Yes, Mr Scrooge!’ Friedrich laughed. ‘You see, my dear, young Edward knew exactly who I was speaking about. He must think the same as me.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t … I didn’t mean …’ Edward looked mortified, tripping over his words.
‘Take no notice,’ Anna whispered. ‘He’s just teasing you, Edward. You should know what Father’s like by now.’
‘Yes, yes, I was only teasing, my boy. Pay no attention to me.’ Friedrich beamed. He was a neat, dapper little man, with bright brown eyes and hair slicked back from his angular face. ‘Now, how are you getting on with my cake, Liebling?’ he said, turning to Anna. ‘I am expecting to see a masterpiece.’
Anna glanced anxiously at Edward. ‘It’s finished, Papa.’
‘Let me see.’
Anna bit her lip as her father bent low to inspect her work, his sharp eyes narrowed as he turned his head this way and that, looking at the cake from every angle. Friedrich Beck would never tolerate sloppy work leaving his kitchen.
Finally, he finished his inspection and straightened up.
‘Perfect,’ he declared.
Anna’s shoulders relaxed, and she let out the breath she had been holding. ‘Thank you, Papa.’
‘You have a very delicate touch. I will make a master confectioner of you yet.’ He smiled at her. ‘Now we must get it packed up. Fetch a box, please, Liesel. And the silk ribbons. A cake like this deserves to be shown off.’
‘Who is it for?’ Anna asked. ‘You said it was for a special customer.’
‘Oh, yes, a very special customer indeed. Your grandmother.’
A tense silence fell over the kitchen. Anna shot a quick look over her shoulder at her mother’s frozen face.
‘In that case you might as well throw it straight in the bin,’ Dorothy snapped.
‘You don’t know that, my dear,’ Friedrich reasoned with her. ‘Perhaps this year she will be ready to forgive us.’
‘There’s more chance of Mrs Jarvis paying her bill! Why do you think this year will be different from the past twenty five?’
‘Because I believe no one can stay angry forever,’ Friedrich said.
‘Then you don’t know my mother!’
‘No, my dear. I do not. She never gave me the chance.’
Anna looked at her father’s sorrowful expression and wondered how her grandmother could be so hard-hearted towards such a wonderful, kind man. His only fault, as far as she could tell, was not being the man her daughter had been supposed to marry.
They had heard the story many times. How their mother had been engaged to a promising young accountant from her wealthy father’s company. But then she had been swept off her feet by a penniless young baker from Stuttgart. When her parents refused to accept the match, she had jilted her fiancé and run off with Friedrich Beck.
Her parents had cut her off ever since. Even when her father, Anna’s grandfather, died ten years earlier, Grandmother Grey had refused to allow Dorothy to attend the funeral.
Anna glanced at her mother’s taut expression. She knew that behind the mask of anger, Dorothy was still very hurt by her parents’ rejection of her.
‘It’s a pity you’ve wasted all your time and effort,’ she said shortly.
‘Creating a thing of such beauty is never a waste of time,’ Friedrich replied. ‘Besides, I have a feeling that things might change for us next year. What do you say, Edward, my boy?’ He winked at his apprentice.
‘You’re too optimistic, that’s your trouble.’ Dorothy snatched up a cloth and started rubbing furiously at an invisible spot on the counter top.
‘Indeed I am,’ her husband said. ‘But think
of it, my dear. If I had not been optimistic, I would never have come over to this country. I would never have opened up a baker’s shop in Bethnal Green, and I would never have dared to believe such a beautiful girl as Miss Dorothy Grey would ever fall in love with me.’
‘I don’t know which of us is the bigger fool, in that case,’ Dorothy muttered, still furiously scrubbing. ‘What are you doing?’ she protested, as her husband slid his arms around her waist, pulling her round to face him. ‘Let me go, we haven’t got time for this nonsense—’
The bell rang over the shop doorway.
‘Saved by the bell,’ Friedrich grinned, releasing her. ‘Very well, let us go. You come too, Liesel. We need your smile to charm the customers.’
‘Yes, Papa.’ Liesel followed her parents through into the shop, with one last triumphant smirk over her shoulder at her sister.
‘Thank goodness she’s gone,’ Anna said, as the door closed behind them. ‘Liesel is more trouble than she’s worth in this kitchen.’ She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘I’d best check on those loaves …’
‘They’ll be all right for another minute.’ Edward stepped in front of her, barring her way. ‘There’s something I want to do first.’
Anna frowned. ‘But I’ll just—’ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, stopping the words in her throat.
She drew back in surprise. ‘What’s that for?’
‘It’s Christmas. Why shouldn’t I kiss the girl I love?’
Anna looked away, pushing a damp strand of hair off her face. ‘But I must look such a mess.’
‘You look beautiful to me.’ He kissed her, long and hard. Anna felt her resistance melting under the warm insistence of his mouth on hers, every thought chased from her mind …
The sound of a cough behind her shocked her back to her senses. Anna sprang away from Edward and turned to face the young man who stood in the doorway. He was shabbily dressed, tall and lean, his shoulders stooped. His face was narrow and hawkish, his dark eyes fixed on them.
‘Tom!’ Scalding colour flooded her face. ‘I – I didn’t know you were there.’
‘You should have knocked,’ Edward said gruffly.
The young man took off his cap and ran his hand through his thick dark hair. ‘I didn’t know you’d be messing about with the boss’ daughter, did I?’
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