A Nightingale Christmas Promise

by Donna Douglas

  She didn’t get to the end of the sentence before Belle was on her, slamming her backwards into the wall, so hard that it knocked all the breath from her body.

  ‘You know nothing about it!’ she hissed, her face so close Sadie could see the smudges of scarlet lipstick on her crooked teeth. ‘If you understood what that girl’s done for you …’

  ‘What?’ Sadie shot back at her. ‘What has she done for me? Tell me, I’d like to know!’

  ‘Belle.’ Lily’s voice drifted down the street, plaintive and pleading. ‘Leave her, please.’

  For a moment Belle held on, eyes fixed on Sadie, blazing fire. Suddenly she understood why those girls down at the docks were so afraid of her mother’s friend.

  Then Belle released her abruptly and Sadie fell back, gasping for breath.

  ‘It ain’t for me to say,’ she muttered. ‘But, believe me, one day you’ll know. One day you’ll know what you’ve done.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Anna’s mother had told them they had to make a special effort when they visited the internment camp three weeks after Christmas.

  ‘Your father is bound to be worried after everything that’s happened,’ she had said. ‘We need to show him we are well and coping with everything.’

  Anna scarcely recognised her mother and sister as they sat across the table from her in the recreation room that Sunday afternoon. Liesel was looking very grown-up in a stylish dress with a wide linen sailor collar, a neat little feathered hat tilted on her blonde head. Even Dorothy, who usually dressed strictly for practicality, looked soft and pretty in a pale pink silk blouse, her hair curling around her face.

  Beside her beautiful sister, Anna felt like a frump in her shapeless winter coat, her dark hair drawn back off her face in a knot under her felt hat.

  Not that her father noticed as he beamed proudly around at them all.

  ‘My girls,’ he said. ‘You are all even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.’

  Anna wished she could say the same. Her father had grown older and thinner since the last time they had met. His face was drawn, and his dark hair had turned grey at the temples. Even his bright brown eyes were etched with lines of anxiety.

  He turned to his youngest daughter. ‘Is that a new dress, Liesel?’

  ‘Yes, Papa.’ She smoothed the skirt proudly. ‘Grandmother had it made especially for me by her own dressmaker. She says a young lady should dress well if she wishes to be accepted in polite society.’

  Anna hid a smirk behind her hand. Mother had warned her not to tease Liesel about her new clothes.

  ‘She’s never had a dress that wasn’t a hand-me-down from you. She’s bound to be excited,’ Dorothy had said.

  ‘Your grandmother is quite right,’ her father agreed solemnly. ‘You do indeed look like a very proper young lady.’

  ‘Thank you, Papa.’ Liesel preened herself. ‘Grandmother says now we’re living with her, I can have more new dresses. And she has arranged for me to have lessons in deportment.’

  ‘That’s very generous of her.’ Anna caught the quick look her father sent her mother.

  ‘Grandmother says a lady must know how to carry herself well,’ Liesel continued, oblivious. ‘She says I must also have accomplishments. I am to learn to speak French and play the piano.’

  ‘She’ll be talking about presenting you at court next!’ Anna burst out laughing.

  Liesel turned on her. ‘You’re jealous,’ she accused.

  ‘I just think we’ve come to see Papa, not to listen to you boasting!’

  ‘It’s quite all right, my dear.’ Her father laid his hand on Anna’s. ‘I’m delighted to hear you’re all so well and happy.’ He looked at his wife. ‘It sounds as if your grandmother is treating you very well?’

  Anna glanced sideways at her mother.

  ‘Yes – very well,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘We have our own rooms now, in the main part of the house,’ Liesel went on excitedly. ‘You should see my room, Papa. I think it must be nearly as big as the bakery kitchen and the shop put together!’

  ‘Liesel!’ Anna sent her a scowling look.

  ‘Well, it is,’ Liesel muttered, retreating into sullen silence.

  ‘Tom is working hard on rebuilding the bakery, Papa,’ Anna changed the subject. ‘He’s living there so he can spend as much time as possible on it.’

  Her father smiled. ‘Tom is a fine young man. A hard worker, too.’

  Don’t trust Tom Franklin.

  ‘Have you heard any more about when you might come home?’ Dorothy asked.

  Friedrich Beck shook his head. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘But I am sure it won’t be much longer.’ His face was full of sorrow. ‘Believe me, I would like nothing more than to be with you. I have worried about you so much since …’ His voice broke. ‘When I think about what could have happened to you …’

  ‘You mustn’t worry,’ Dorothy cut in. ‘We survived and Mother is providing for us very well.’

  Friedrich’s thoughtful gaze took in all of them. ‘You’re quite right, my dear. It sounds as if you are being looked after. We are very fortunate to have her, nein?’

  When they left later, Anna said to her mother, ‘Is Grandmother really looking after you, Mother?’

  Dorothy nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Much as it surprises me to say it, she has been very kind to us. It was difficult at first, of course, but now we have all grown used to the situation …’ She paused for a moment, then said, ‘The years certainly seem to have mellowed her, at any rate.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s glad of the company since Grandfather died?’ Anna looked at her sister, hurrying on ahead of them. ‘She has certainly made a pet of Liesel.’

  ‘Yes, she has.’ Her mother’s expression darkened briefly. ‘I thought perhaps she might become spoilt at first, but Mother says I’m fussing too much.’

  Anna glanced sideways at her mother’s determined smile.

  ‘Anyway, Mother enjoys it, and so does Liesel,’ Dorothy went on. ‘Poor child, she so likes to feel special. And my mother likes dressing us up, so …’

  ‘Us?’ Anna said.

  Her mother tugged self-consciously at the curls around her face.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘It’s important to keep your grandmother happy. She is keeping us, after all.’

  ‘But are you happy, Mother?’

  Dorothy gave a sad little smile. ‘I mustn’t complain,’ she said. ‘We have a warm, safe place to live, and that’s all that matters. Of course I miss your father, and the bakery. But I’ve found little ways to occupy myself. I write to him every day, of course, and my mother likes me to read to her. I talked to her about finding some kind of work, but she insists that it is not proper for a lady.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Silly, isn’t it? I remember those cold winter mornings when we had to get up before dawn to light the ovens, I used to long to be a lady of leisure then. But now …’ she sighed. ‘I have to admit, I wish I were busy again.’

  ‘You will be soon.’ Anna linked her arm with her mother’s. ‘Once Tom has finished rebuilding the bakery, we can move back in.’ She grinned then. ‘You wait, Mother. It won’t be long before you’ll be wishing you were a lady of leisure again!’

  Anna called in to the bakery on her way back to the hospital. The back door was open and as she crossed the yard she could hear the rasp of wood being sawn. But there was another sound, too. Quiet but unmistakable.

  Anna stopped to listen for a moment, smiling to herself. She could never have imagined Tom Franklin whistling.

  She crept into the kitchen. The door leading to the rest of the ground floor was open, and Tom was working at the far end of the passageway. He had stripped to his vest; his braces hung loose around his narrow hips.

  As if he knew he was being watched, he suddenly looked up and saw her.

  ‘Miss Anna!’ He quickly laid the saw down and hurried down the passageway towards her, shrugging on his shirt. ‘I beg your pardon, I didn’t k
now you were coming.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Anna turned her back on him, embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just thought I’d call in and see how you were getting on.’

  ‘Not too bad.’ She risked a glance over her shoulder. Tom was slipping his braces back over his shoulders. ‘It’s nearly all dried out now the weather’s turned.’

  ‘You cleared everything out.’

  He nodded. ‘It was all ruined. I’ve left it in the yard, if you want to go through it?’

  ‘No. As you say, it’s all ruined anyway.’

  They lapsed into silence, neither of them meeting the other’s eye.

  Anna spoke first. ‘You’ve started replacing the window frames, I see?’

  Tom nodded. ‘Most of ’em was too burned to fix.’

  ‘You’ve done a good job.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I ain’t no master carpenter, but I’ve done my best.’

  The silence stretched again. Then Anna said, ‘I forgot. I’ve brought you something.’

  She held out the meat pie wrapped in brown paper, still warm from the pie-seller on the corner. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten?’ she said. Then, seeing his wary expression, added, ‘You don’t have to have it if you don’t want it.’

  He took it from her with a grunt of thanks. He tore off the paper and took a big bite, like a ravenous dog. Anna looked away, back to the window frame. She ran her hand down the smooth, planed wood.

  ‘This is very good work. Where did you learn to do it?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve worked on a few building sites,’ Tom said, his mouth full. ‘You pick things up.’ He swallowed, then took another bite. ‘I like making things.’

  ‘You’ve got a real talent for it,’ Anna said. ‘I wonder why you didn’t get yourself apprenticed to a master builder, to learn the trade properly?’

  Tom expression darkened. ‘I’m a Franklin, miss. Who’d want to take me on as an apprentice?’

  Don’t trust Tom Franklin.

  He finished the pie and screwed up the brown paper, crumpling it in his fist. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Anna smiled. ‘You must have been hungry.’

  She knew it was the wrong thing to say as Tom looked away, embarrassed.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked.

  ‘In what way, miss?’

  ‘I thought I might be able to help – not with the woodwork or anything complicated,’ she said quickly. ‘But perhaps I could do some cleaning?’

  He looked her up and down. ‘You’re wearing your nice clothes.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can manage, miss.’

  He was dismissing her, she could tell. He wanted to do this alone.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose I’d better go.’

  As she turned away Tom suddenly said, ‘Have you seen him, miss? Your father?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, we went to visit him today.’

  ‘How is he?’

  Anna looked into Tom’s face. The tenderness in his black eyes surprised her.

  ‘You know Papa. He always tries to make the best of everything.’

  Tom nodded. ‘That sounds like Mr Beck.’ He sounded almost affectionate, Anna thought. ‘You’ll be sure to give him my best wishes next time you see him?’

  ‘I will.’ Anna paused, then said, ‘You know, you could always write to him. I’d be happy to take a letter for you.’

  A deep flush spread up Tom’s cheeks. ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘He wouldn’t want to hear from me.’

  ‘I’m sure he would. He was saying earlier what a fine young man you are.’

  ‘He said that? About me?’ For a moment she saw a spark in Tom’s eyes, and then it was gone. ‘All the same, I ain’t much for writing letters,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Let me know if you change your mind, anyway.’ Anna looked around. ‘I’ll come and see you again next week, if that’s all right?’

  ‘It’s your house, miss.’

  ‘So it is.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll remember to bring my old clothes with me next time.’

  ‘You do that, miss.’

  As she closed the door and looked back, she wondered if she had imagined the faintest hint of a smile on Tom’s face.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘Monaghan, sir? But that’s the Military ward.’

  Dr Ormerod glared at Kate across his desk. ‘I know what it is, thank you! And, believe me, I would not even think of this if there were another way. But we’ve lost several more students to the war effort in the past month, there are military casualties pouring in every day and we simply don’t have enough doctors to keep up with the demand for them.’

  He must be truly desperate, Kate thought, looking at his pained expression. She had not seen or spoken to Dr Ormerod in more than two months. She had begun to think she would spend the rest of her days buried away in Pathology until the Great Man had suddenly summoned her to his office that morning and instructed her to report to Monaghan.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, don’t thank me.’ Dr Ormerod waved his hand dismissively. ‘As I said, I had no choice. Personally, I think it will all be too much for you. I daresay you’ll be back in my office, weeping and begging for a transfer, by the end of the week.’

  Kate sent him a level look. She made up her mind there and then that no matter how hard the work might be, she would find a way to endure it.

  Kate soon realised why Dr Ormerod had sent for her. A fresh load of military patients had just arrived and there was a line of trolleys down the passage outside Monaghan.

  Even from a distance, Kate could hear the animal cries and groans of the men. The air was thick with the smell of dirt and dried blood, and the sour stench of infected wounds.

  Leo and Rufus French were there, going up and down the trolleys, assessing the men and issuing instructions to the nurses and orderlies who hurried back and forth.

  Her brother looked up at her in surprise as she approached.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘She’s come to lend a hand,’ Rufus said, before Kate could open her mouth to reply.

  Leo frowned. ‘On whose instruction?’

  ‘Dr Ormerod’s. And if you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with him. But in the meantime, perhaps you could make yourself useful?’ Rufus said to Kate.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Leo frown. ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.

  ‘These casualties must all be assessed.’ Rufus nodded at the line of trolleys. ‘Some will need to go straight down to theatre, while others can go on to the ward. Sort out the most urgent cases, and deal with them first.’

  ‘How do I know which are the most urgent?’

  Rufus sent her a grim look. ‘The ones who are dying,’ he said.

  As Kate turned to go, Leo said, ‘Some of these men are in a very bad way. If you don’t think you can cope …’

  ‘If she didn’t think she could cope, she wouldn’t be here.’ Once again Rufus answered for her, throwing the words over his shoulder as he headed down the line to the next patient.

  Kate looked from him back to her brother’s concerned face.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said.

  In spite of what Rufus had said, he kept a close eye on Miss Carlyle as they worked their way through the patients.

  Today’s wounds were some of the worst he had ever seen. Sickening, filthy injuries: crushed faces, mangled limbs, and wounds that had healed so badly they had burst open, angry red, oozing pus and seething with infection.

  It was almost more than he could bear to see, and he expected Kate to fall apart in the face of such horror. But every time he looked at her she was working steadily, her head down, checking respiration, cleaning out wounds and splinting limbs, making notes in that tiny, meticulous handwriting of hers. She worked tirelessly, going from patient to patient, and even the most grisly injuries di
d not seem to perturb her at all.

  Only once or twice did Rufus see her faltering. The colour would drain from her face and she would turn away to compose herself. But each time, before he could go to her assistance, he saw her close her eyes and grit her teeth, as if willing herself to go on. The next moment she would be back, alert and ready to deal with whatever lay before her.

  And to think he had once criticised her for being cold, he thought. Now her cool, unruffled presence seemed to be just what was needed to calm the men’s terror and to cope unflinchingly with their terrible wounds.

  The only one who didn’t seem calmed by her presence was her brother. Late in the afternoon, Rufus was treating a patient in one of the private rooms when he heard Kate and Leo locked in an argument in the passage outside.

  ‘I’m telling you, I believe he should be in isolation,’ Kate quietly insisted.

  ‘And I’m telling you, you know nothing about it!’ Leo’s voice was louder, full of suppressed anger. ‘I don’t even know why you examined him, since he’s my patient.’

  ‘Staff Nurse Hanley was concerned about him. He has a sore throat, vomiting, and his temperature is—’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me what his temperature is! I took it myself, not an hour ago.’ Rufus heard Leo’s angry sigh. ‘Look, I know you think you’re very clever,’ he said, ‘but you’ve barely been on the ward a few hours. Don’t you think it’s too early to start taking over?’

  Rufus finished examining his patient and handed over to the nurse to finish dressing his wound, then went outside.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘Mind your own business!’ Leo growled.

  Kate kept her gaze fixed on her brother. ‘I have reason to believe that a patient on the ward has developed erysipelas,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Reason to believe!’ Leo mocked her. ‘There isn’t even a rash.’

  ‘A rash can take up to forty-eight hours to—’

  ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to quote your textbooks at me!’ he cut her off angrily.