A Nightingale Christmas Promise

by Donna Douglas

  Don’t trust Tom Franklin.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Tom,’ she called after him. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. He opened his mouth to speak, but the gate slammed shut on his reply.

  Usually Anna loved Christmas Eve. They would put up the Christmas tree and light candles, and her mother would cook fish with potato fritters and sauerkraut, and then they would all gather around the warm glow of the fire to open their presents amid lots of laughter and excitement.

  But tonight, putting up the Christmas tree only reminded Anna painfully that her father wouldn’t be there to see it. She thought of him and the other men in their dismal bunk room at the internment camp. Her father so loved Christmas. She could imagine him, humming ‘Ir Kinderlein Kommet’, trying to bring some festive cheer to the other men. Last time Anna had visited, he had told her that he was going to teach the camp cook to make Lebkuchen. That was so typical of him, she thought, always trying to make the best of his situation, never allowing anything to get him down.

  She looked at her mother, standing beside her as she hung a wooden ornament on the tree. From her faraway expression, Anna guessed she was having similar thoughts.

  Only Liesel seemed to be thinking of herself, as usual. She was in one of her sulky moods, in spite of Anna’s and her mother’s best efforts to make everything happy and cheerful. She refused to help decorate the tree, and pushed her dinner around her plate in moody silence.

  ‘Try to eat something, my dear, please,’ her mother pleaded, while Anna fumed quietly. That was just typical of Liesel! Anna was the one who had just said goodbye to her fiancé, the one in desperate need of comfort, but instead they all had to fuss around her spoilt younger sister.

  As soon as Dorothy went out of the room to fetch the pudding, Anna turned on her sister.

  ‘Why do you have to be so selfish all the time?’ she snapped. ‘Don’t you think this is hard on all of us, without you trying to make it worse? And you can stop that, too,’ she said, as Liesel promptly burst into tears. ‘You’re not a baby. Crying might work on Mother and Papa, but I know—’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Anna!’ Liesel wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘I’m not crying because I’m upset. I’m crying because I’m – I’m scared.’

  Anna frowned. ‘Scared? What have you got to be scared about?’

  Liesel cast a quick glance towards the door. ‘I can’t say in front of Mother,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I have something to show you …’

  Anna stared down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hands.

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘I found it on the mat this morning. It must have been pushed under the back door during the night.’ Liesel wiped her face. Her tears had dried, but her eyes were still puffy from crying.

  ‘Did you show it to Mother?’

  ‘Of course I did!’ Liesel snapped. ‘But she said it was all nonsense and we shouldn’t mention it to you. Then she threw it away, but I got it out of the fire before she lit it.’

  Anna read the words again. It was hard to make out the thick pencil scrawl.

  ‘GET OUT,’ the note said. ‘THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU ON CHRISTMAS DAY.’ It was ominously signed, ‘FROM A FRIEND’.

  ‘Who do you think it could be from?’ Liesel whispered.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Anna looked up at her sister’s worried face. Liesel was watching her closely, waiting for her reaction. She forced herself to screw up the note. ‘Mother’s right, it’s nothing to worry about. Just someone’s idea of a nasty joke, I expect.’

  ‘What if it isn’t?’ Liesel said. ‘What if someone is going to come and murder us?’

  Anna put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. Liesel was shivering like a frightened animal. ‘Now who would want to do that?’

  ‘The same people who put bricks through our windows and spit at us on the street.’ Liesel’s blue eyes were wide with fear. ‘You’re not here every day, you don’t know what it’s like. They want to drive us out, Anna!’

  She started to cry again, and Anna pulled her closer. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered into her sister’s hair. ‘I’ll be staying here over Christmas. I’ll look after you.’

  ‘I wish Papa were here,’ Liesel sobbed into her shoulder.

  ‘I know, love.’ So do I, Anna thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Late on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and just as everyone was beginning to give up hope, Miss Sutton finally allowed the porters to set up the Christmas tree on Everett ward. Dulcie and Miriam set about decorating it, assisted by a couple of the medical students who happened to be on the ward.

  Sadie, who was busy helping Ada Dixon pack her belongings, watched with amusement as Dulcie flirted with a particularly good-looking student called Talbot.

  ‘I told you she was trouble, didn’t I?’ Ada commented behind her.

  ‘She’s harmless.’ Sadie smiled and packed Ada’s nightgown in her suitcase. ‘Now, is that everything?’

  ‘I think so.’ Ada paused in powdering her face to look around. It was strange to see the bedside locker so empty after it had been strewn with her bits and pieces for so long.

  ‘It’s a shame you won’t see the ward all decorated for Christmas,’ Sadie said.

  Ada grinned. ‘I reckon I can live without it, ta very much. All I want now is to go home.’ She dusted her face with the powder puff, sending clouds of it into the air. ‘No offence, ducks, you’ve all been very good to me. But you can’t beat your own bed, can you?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Sadie eyed the drifts of pink powder settling on the white bedcover. ‘I bet you’re looking forward to a nice family Christmas?’

  ‘I can’t wait!’ Ada cackled. ‘We always have a big knees-up round our house on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Don’t forget what the doctor said, will you? You’re not to overdo it.’

  ‘’Course not. I’ll be as good as gold.’ Ada sent her a mischievous look as she twisted the top off her scarlet lipstick. Sadie smiled back. If she knew Ada, she would be dancing and singing with the rest of them by tomorrow afternoon. ‘How about you? Will you be seeing your mum on Christmas Day?’

  Sadie shook her head. ‘I’m working all day. It depends when Sister tells me I can go off duty.’

  ‘That’s a shame. I’ll bet she’ll miss you?’

  I doubt it, Sadie thought. Lily would probably start on the gin first thing and be too blind drunk to notice anything by teatime.

  ‘I’m sure I’ll pop in sometime,’ she said. ‘Anyway, we have a good time on the ward, so Nurse Gifford tells me. We sing carols, and give out presents, and have a Christmas dinner.’

  Ada pulled a face. ‘Yes, but you can’t beat a proper family Christmas, can you?’

  I wouldn’t know, Sadie thought. Perhaps if she had been born into a family as warm and loving as Ada’s, she would feel more bereft at missing the festivities.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I suppose not.’

  Just then two of Ada’s sons arrived. They were both big, hulking slabs of men, with thick necks and broken noses.

  ‘And what time do you call this?’ Ada turned on them. ‘I thought I told you to be here half an hour ago?’

  ‘Sorry, Ma,’ they mumbled.

  ‘And take your hats off when you’re indoors.’ Ada sighed. ‘Blimey, Nurse Sedgewick will think you’ve got no manners.’

  They snatched their caps off their heads, both blushing like schoolboys. ‘Look at them,’ Ada said to Sadie. ‘See how bashful they turn when there’s a pretty girl present? No wonder they ain’t married!’ She shook her head, but the smile she gave them was full of maternal pride.

  Sadie fastened Ada’s suitcase and went to move it. At once one of the boys – the youngest, Frank – moved to take it from her.

  ‘Now, you mustn’t allow your mother to do too much,’ Sadie warned them.

  The other son, Ronnie, laughed. ‘You try stopping her, Nurse!’

  ‘Quite right,’
Ada said. ‘Once I get back in that house, I’m in charge.’ She sent them a severe look. ‘I hope you boys ain’t turned the place into a pigsty while I’ve been away?’

  ‘It’s a palace, Ma.’

  ‘Is it, now? I s’pose there’s a first time for everything.’ Ada stood up and enveloped Sadie in a pillowy, perfumed embrace. ‘I’ll miss you, ducks,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll miss you too, Ada. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Miss Sutton, followed by a porter with a wheelchair. She glared at Sadie as she extricated herself from Ada’s arms. ‘All ready to go, Mrs Dixon?’

  Ada looked askance at the wheelchair. ‘What’s this for?’

  ‘It’s hospital rules, Mrs Dixon. Patients must be wheeled down to the main doors.’

  Frank grinned and swept into a low bow. ‘Your carriage awaits, Milady!’

  ‘Daft bugger!’ Ada shook her head.

  Sadie watched the procession leaving, Ada waving regally to the other patients as she was wheeled the length of the ward. Everett wouldn’t be the same without Ada Dixon, she thought.

  Christmas Day on the ward was just as pleasant as Staff Nurse Gifford had promised it would be. After breakfast, Miss Sutton invited them all into her sitting room for coffee and a tot of the brandy she kept locked in the medicine cupboard. She handed out the boxes of chocolates she had bought for everybody, and they presented her with the small Staffordshire figurine they had clubbed together to buy for her. Then there were more presents to be handed out to the patients on the ward, and the ward sisters came round to sing some rousing Christmas carols, followed by the medical students, who sang some rather risqué songs and acted out comic scenes, which made everyone laugh except Miss Sutton, who glared throughout.

  And then it was time for dinner to be served. The porter brought a roast turkey to the long table in the middle of the ward, amid much pomp and ceremony, and the Chief Surgical Officer appeared to carve it, wielding his knife with a flourish that made some of the women on the ward wince.

  Later in the afternoon, once the dinner was cleared away and the last Christmas cracker had been pulled, it was time for the visitors to arrive. To Sadie’s relief, Miss Sutton told her she could finally go off duty.

  Dulcie came with her. As they walked back to Lennox House, she said, ‘Some of the medical students are having a party in the Students’ Union later on. Would you like to come?’

  ‘I’m not sure … I thought I might go and visit my mother.’

  ‘Oh, do come!’ Dulcie pleaded. ‘So far Trott’s the only one who’s said yes, and I don’t really fancy spending the whole evening watching her batting her eyelashes at all the young men.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk! I saw you flirting with Mr Talbot yesterday. Right under Sister’s nose, too!’

  ‘So what if I did? It’s Christmas, isn’t it? A time of goodwill to all men.’ Dulcie sent Sadie a coy sideways look. ‘Between you and me, Sam Wallace has asked me to invite you ’specially. I think he’s got his eye on you.’

  ‘In that case, I’m definitely not coming!’ Sadie laughed.

  Dulcie pouted. ‘You’re no fun.’ She let out a martyred sigh. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I shall just have to put up with Trott.’

  As she trudged off to her mother’s lodgings through the cold, dark streets, Sadie almost wished she had accepted Dulcie’s invitation. She was bound to have a better time with her friend than she would with her mother.

  She couldn’t remember a time when she had enjoyed Christmas. As a child, she recalled bleak holidays spent alone in cold, dark lodgings because her mother was out working on the streets and she didn’t have any money for the gas. Later on, Christmas was usually spent in fear, waiting for Jimmy Clyde’s temper to give way. He could be the life and soul of the party one minute, then clutching her mother by the throat the next, depending on how the drink took him. Sadie shuddered at the memory of all the times she had hidden away, holding her breath, listening to him giving her mother another beating.

  At least she knew he wouldn’t be there today. He was still safely behind bars in Wormwood Scrubs, awaiting trial.

  As she climbed the narrow staircase to her mother’s lodgings, she heard the sound of women’s laughter drifting down from above. Sadie stopped for a moment to listen, her heart sinking. The only time her mother laughed was when she was drunk.

  But today Lily Sedgewick didn’t look drunk. Sadie barely recognised the smiling woman who sat opposite Belle, warming her hands in front of the fire.

  She rose to her feet when she saw Sadie. ‘Oh, good. You came. I wasn’t sure you’d find the time.’

  ‘Sister let me go early.’ Sadie stared at her mother. Lily was clear-eyed, her hair and clothes spotlessly clean. Even the grim little room smelt of polish and disinfectant.

  ‘I told you she’d be here, didn’t I?’ Belle winked at Sadie. ‘Your mum’s been on pins all day, waiting for you.’

  Lily blushed. ‘I have not!’ She looked shyly at Sadie. ‘I kept you some Christmas dinner, if you want it?’

  Christmas dinner? Sadie glanced at Belle in confusion. She had rarely known her mother cook anything.

  ‘No, thanks, I had my dinner at the—’ She saw her mother’s crestfallen expression. ‘Oh, go on, then. I reckon I could manage a bit more.’

  ‘It’s in the oven. I’ll fetch it. You take your coat off and sit down. I’ll put the kettle on too, while I’m at it.’

  Her mother picked up the kettle from the stove and hurried out on to the landing to fill it. Belle grinned at Sadie. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘She’s been fussing about all day, trying to make it all nice for you.’

  ‘So I see.’ Sadie ran her hand over the polished surface of the table. She looked up at Belle. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘She’s changed, ain’t she?’ Belle looked pleased. ‘She’s a new woman, I reckon. And no prizes for guessing why, either.’

  Sadie fetched a knife and fork from the dresser and sat down at the table. A moment later her mother returned, carefully carrying a plate of food.

  ‘Sorry, it dried up a bit in the oven,’ she said as she placed it down in front of Sadie.

  ‘It looks lovely.’

  ‘I dunno about that. I ain’t much of a cook …’

  Sadie picked up her knife and fork and started to eat, conscious of her mother standing the other side of the table, watching her.

  ‘Is it all right?’ Lily asked, her face creased with anxiety. ‘I know it’s dry … you don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it …’

  ‘For Gawd’s sake, Lil, let the poor girl have it in peace!’ Belle cried.

  ‘Sorry.’ Lily smiled apologetically. ‘I’ll go and pour that tea, shall I?’

  Sadie watched her mother as she busied herself at the stove, humming while she worked. She couldn’t remember a time Lily had looked or sounded so happy.

  After dinner, Sadie gave her mother and Belle the tin of talcum powder she had bought for each of them.

  ‘It’s lily-of-the-valley,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d like it, as it’s named after you, Mum?’

  ‘I hope it smells better than your mother does!’ Belle cackled.

  ‘Shut up, you!’ Lily nudged her, laughing. A smile lit up her face. ‘It’s lovely, Sadie. Thank you.’ She turned the tin around in her hands, as if she had never seen anything so wonderful in her life. ‘And I’ve got something for you, too.’ She nodded to Belle. ‘Fetch it for me, would you, ducks? It’s over there, on the dresser.’

  ‘For me?’ Sadie stared at her.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ Lily said. ‘It’s Christmas, ain’t it?’

  Sadie said nothing. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had bought her anything, Christmas or birthday.

  Belle returned and handed her a small package, about the size of a pack of cards but flat. Sadie stared down at it. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Best open it and find out
, hadn’t you? It ain’t much,’ Lily said. ‘Just something I got off the market. But I thought you might like it.’

  ‘It – it’s lovely.’ Sadie stared down at the gift in her hands, a delicate framed picture made up of tiny dried flowers.

  ‘Like I said, it ain’t much. But I thought it might do to cheer up that room of yours at the nurses’ home?’

  Sadie looked up into her mother’s face, bright with hope. Suddenly she felt tears pricking her eyes.

  ‘What is it, love? What’s wrong?’ Lily Sedgewick stared back at her in concern. ‘If you don’t like it …‘

  ‘I do.’ Sadie dashed away the tears with the back of her hand. ‘Take no notice of me,’ she muttered.

  ‘I expect she’s tired, ain’t you, mate?’ Belle looked sympathetic.

  ‘Yes. Yes, that’s it.’ Sadie smiled back at her. There was so much she wanted to say, but she was too afraid. It felt as if they were in a delicate little bubble of Christmas magic, just the three of them, and she wanted it to go on and on.

  In the end, it was Belle who broke the spell.

  ‘I wonder how Jimmy Clyde’s enjoying his Christmas in the nick!’ she mused.

  Lily’s face fell. ‘Don’t, Lil,’ she said.

  Sadie noticed her mother’s hands were shaking as she reached for the teapot to refill their cups.

  ‘It’ll be a good thing if they keep him locked up,’ Belle said. ‘But knowing that little worm, I expect he’ll find a way to wriggle his way out.’

  ‘Not this time.’

  Sadie hadn’t realised she had spoken out loud until she looked up and saw both women staring at her.

  ‘And what makes you so sure of that?’ Belle said.

  ‘Because I’m going to testify against him.’

  Her mother set down the teapot with a clatter, splashing hot tea all over the lace tablecloth.

  ‘I’d better wipe that up.’ She hurried away as Belle turned to face Sadie.

  ‘You what?’ Her voice was low and flat.

  ‘I went down to the police station and told them what he’d done,’ Sadie said. Her mother returned and started dabbing at the cloth with agitated little movements. ‘And I took them that locket. The one he stole.’