‘I’m sorry, Grandmother,’ she said. ‘But I want to go home.’
They made their way back to Bethnal Green in subdued silence. Dorothy was particularly downcast, Anna noticed. She stared out of the window of the bus, lost in thought.
Anna felt the weight of her sadness. ‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ she said. ‘About Grandmother, I mean.’
Dorothy turned to her with the smallest of smiles. ‘She made her decision, my love. I wish things had turned out differently, that’s all.’
The bakery looked worse than Anna had remembered. They stood in the street, the three of them sheltering under an umbrella as the rain poured down. A dull canopy of dark cloud seemed to press down on them, squashing their spirits.
‘We can’t live here,’ Liesel whined. ‘It’s awful.’
‘We have no choice,’ her mother said grimly. ‘Come on, I’m sure things will seem better when we’re inside.’
The rooms were dark and cold. Anna found a penny for the meter and they went around the rooms, lighting all the mantles.
‘Grandmother has electric lights in her house,’ Liesel pointed out unhelpfully.
‘Perhaps you should have stayed with her, then!’ Anna snapped back.
Liesel glared sulkily at her, but said nothing.
Once the lamps were lit, they found some wood from the yard and used it to block up the gaping hole in the shop window. They stacked more wood against the broken back door.
‘I wish we had a hammer and some nails, then we could seal it up properly,’ Dorothy said.
Anna thought once again about Tom. She wondered if he was waiting for her to approach him.
He would have to wait a long time, she decided.
A hammer and nails weren’t the only things they were missing. When they checked the coal cellar, it was empty. They had no way of making a fire.
‘We don’t have any food, either,’ Liesel complained. ‘And I’m hungry.’
‘We could get fish and chips?’ Anna suggested.
‘It’s Sunday,’ Liesel said sulkily. ‘There won’t be anywhere open.’
Anna caught her mother’s hopeless, helpless look as she sat staring into the empty fireplace.
‘Then we’ll just have to go without, won’t we?’ Anna shot a warning look at Liesel, who ignored it.
‘But I’m starving!’ she whined.
‘Oh, no, you’re not. You’ve got fat since you’ve been living with Grandmother.’
‘I have not!’
‘Yes, you have. No wonder you needed all those new dresses. You’ve—’
‘Shh!’ Liesel held up her hand. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘What?’
‘That noise.’
Anna strained her ears to listen. ‘You’re imagining things.’
‘I’m not. I heard something, I did.’ Liesel’s eyes grew wide with fear. ‘You don’t think it’s someone coming to murder us again, do you?’
‘I’ll murder you myself if you don’t shut up!’ Anna said, but then she saw her mother’s expression.
‘Liesel’s right,’ Dorothy whispered. ‘There is a noise. I think it’s coming from the kitchen.’
The sudden crash made them all jump. Something, or someone, had pushed the wooden boards from the back door, making them fall with a clatter.
Dorothy shot to her feet. ‘Stay here,’ she said.
‘No, Mother. We’re coming with you.’
The three of them crept down the passageway towards the kitchen. Whoever was on the other side of the door was making no effort to be quiet. They could hear the sound of heavy breathing, and the scrape of the wooden boards being dragged across the floor.
Dorothy threw open the kitchen door and they all fell through inside, only to be confronted by the rotund shape of Mrs Wheeler from the corner café. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding one of the boards in her hands.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘Sorry about the noise. I was going to knock, but—’ She looked back at the shattered door.
‘What do you want?’ Terror still fizzed through Anna’s veins, making her forget her manners.
Mrs Wheeler looked startled. ‘I’ve brought you something to eat,’ she stammered. ‘Leftovers from the café.’ She nodded to the box on the kitchen table.
‘Thank you,’ Dorothy said. ‘That’s very kind.’
‘Like I said, it’s only leftovers. A meat and potato pie, and some veg. There’s some tea in there, too. And some milk and sugar. And a bit of seed cake.’ She stared at the floor as she said it, the toe of her slipper scuffing against the bare boards.
‘We’re very grateful.’
Mrs Wheeler gave them a quick nod and then she was gone.
‘Well, that was a nice surprise,’ Dorothy said, picking up the discarded board.
‘Wasn’t it?’ Anna muttered.
Liesel glared at her. ‘There’s no need to be so ungrateful,’
‘I’m not ungrateful. It’s just—’
Before Anna could finish her sentence there was a knock on the door frame. The next minute Mr Hudson’s red face loomed through the splintered hole in the wood.
‘All right?’ he said. ‘I saw your lights on, and thought I’d come round with this.’ His meaty arms reached through the hole and dumped a sack of coal on the floor. ‘The missus sent some old sheets and blankets, too. She wasn’t sure if you had any?’
‘We haven’t. Thank you.’
‘I’ll leave them here, shall I?’ He passed a stack of linen through the hole. ‘Give us a knock if you need anything else.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No need for that. You’d do the same for us.’ He looked uneasily at Anna when he said it.
Dorothy’s mood seemed a lot brighter once they’d made up the fire. They gathered around the fireplace and drank hot tea and ate the meal Mrs Wheeler had provided for them.
‘Wasn’t that kind of them all to help us?’ Liesel said through a mouth full of meat and potato pie.
Anna looked at her mother. ‘More like guilty consciences if you ask me,’ she muttered.
‘You’re probably right,’ Dorothy said. ‘But we have to be practical. It’s better than nothing.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ As far as Anna was concerned it was more a case of too little, too late.
Chapter Forty-One
When Dulcie first heard Kate Carlyle had been suspended, part of her was glad. She couldn’t forget how high-handed the medical student had been when Dulcie tried to speak to her. She should have been grateful that someone had tipped her the wink about Dr Latimer, one girl to another. But instead Kate Carlyle had looked at her with loathing and contempt, as if she was nothing.
Typical of her, Dulcie thought. Kate had never been particularly nice, and now she was getting what she deserved.
But then all the other nurses had started going on about it, saying how sad it was, and what a good doctor Kate Carlyle had been, and wondering if it was true that Rufus French had knocked Charlie Latimer out because of it.
‘They must have fallen out over something,’ Grace Duffield said. ‘They’ve always been such good friends before.’
‘If you ask me, Dr French is rather sweet on Miss Carlyle,’ Miriam Trott sighed. ‘How romantic, don’t you think, to have men fighting over you?’
And that had annoyed Dulcie even more because she had been every bit as hurt and humiliated as Kate and she didn’t have anyone taking her side, let alone a knight in shining armour like Rufus French. None of the other nurses knew she was the other girl in Charlie Latimer’s life, although she had heard them speculating about who it might be. They didn’t seem to have a lot of sympathy for the mystery girl, whoever she was. If anything, they blamed her for causing so much trouble for Miss Carlyle.
‘If it hadn’t been for worrying about it, she would never have made such a mistake with that patient’s notes,’ Grace declared.
Dulcie knew she should speak up, but she was worried. She had left
it too long, she was bound to get into trouble if she said anything now. And besides, who could she tell and what could she say? The damage had already been done. Kate Carlyle was gone and there was nothing Dulcie could do about it.
Then Grace Duffield returned to Lennox House one teatime with the news that Miss Carlyle was back, working in Pathology. Dr Werner’s latest assistant had gone off sick, and the Head of Pathology had particularly asked for her.
That was when Dulcie turned to her friend Sadie Sedgewick for advice.
It was almost a relief to get it all off her chest. Her secret had grown too heavy to bear alone. And of course Sadie was the right person to tell. She was kind and wise, and Dulcie knew she would never gossip about it with the other girls.
‘You’ve got to talk to Miss Carlyle,’ Sadie said, when Dulcie had finished telling her story.
‘I was afraid you’d say that!’ Dulcie sighed. ‘But I can’t. She’d never listen to me.’
‘She will when she hears what you’ve got to say.’
Dulcie wasn’t so sure, remembering the cold, contemptuous way Kate had looked at her before. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say.’
‘Just tell her what you’ve told me.’
‘Can’t you do it for me?’ Dulcie pleaded.
Sadie shook her head. ‘This is your business, mate, not mine.’ She paused, then said, ‘Why don’t you send her a note, if you’re worried about facing her?’
‘She’d never read it.’ Dulcie bit her lip. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to speak to her, tell her the truth.’
Sadie smiled. ‘That’s the spirit,’ she said. ‘You know what they say. Tell the truth and shame the devil.’
Dulcie was still in two minds about it when she went off duty at ten o’clock the following morning. She longed to go back to Lennox House, or to walk through the hospital gates and keep walking, putting as much distance between herself and Kate Carlyle as possible. But instead she forced herself to walk down to the Pathology block.
She could feel her heart racing in her chest as she descended the steps and pushed open the door into the gloomy lab. All those dead bodies and bits of organs in jars made her nervous, but not half as terrified as Kate Carlyle made her feel.
Kate was alone in the lab, sitting at the table with her back to the door, writing up her notes.
‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said over her shoulder.
Dulcie cleared her throat nervously. ‘Miss Carlyle?’
Kate turned round, scowled, then returned to her writing. ‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ she said.
Dulcie stood her ground. ‘May I have a word with you, please?’
‘Not now, I’m busy.’
‘But it’s important—’
‘I said, not now!’ Kate cut her off. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘I don’t think you have anything to say that I’d want to hear.’
Dulcie stared at Kate’s turned back. She had a good mind to walk away and leave her to it. The rude, arrogant cow deserved everything that was coming to her.
But then she remembered what Sadie had said. Tell the truth and shame the devil.
‘Not even if it saves your bacon?’ she said.
Kate stopped writing and lifted her head. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’ve got something important to tell you. About that patient who died.’
Kate put down her pen and turned slowly to look at her. Her expression gave nothing away. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘I’m listening.’
‘But that can’t be!’
Leo paced restlessly back and forth over the rug in their father’s study. His agitated movements were in sharp contrast to Sir Philip, who sat very still behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of his face, deep in thought.
‘But Dulcie Moore remembers it clearly,’ Kate insisted. ‘She was with me when I was examining the patient. She says she remembers me making out his chart.’
‘Then someone must have taken it, because I definitely didn’t see it.’
‘Do sit down, Leo!’ Sir Philip spoke up for the first time. Leo promptly stopped pacing and dropped into a seat, as if he was playing musical chairs. There was a sheen of perspiration on his brow, Kate noticed.
Her father turned to her. ‘Should we trust the word of this young woman anyway? And why hasn’t she come forward before?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘It seems very convenient to me that she remembers this particular patient so clearly. Are you sure she’s not making this up because she’s your friend?’
Kate nearly smiled. No one could ever have described her and Dulcie Moore as friends!
‘She remembers it clearly because we were arguing at the time.’ Kate saw her father’s gaze sharpen and realised too late what she had said.
‘Arguing?’ He pounced on the word. ‘Why were you bickering with a student nurse?’
‘I daresay it was about Dr Latimer,’ Leo muttered.
‘Dr Latimer? What does he have to do with this?’
Kate stared at her brother, willing him not to say anything more.
‘Is this the young man you were – involved with?’
Kate’s heart sank. Of course her father already knew about it. Rumours travelled fast around the Nightingale.
‘Yes, Father.’
‘And this nurse was the other young woman?’
‘Yes. But that had nothing to do with—’
‘So you were arguing, and it’s probably fair to say you were both overwrought and not really concentrating on what you were supposed to be doing?’
‘That’s not true!’ Kate looked up at her father’s face and wondered if she’d imagined that glint of triumph in his eyes. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d be pleased? This evidence clears my name.’
‘And casts a shadow over your brother’s.’
Kate looked at Leo’s downcast face and suddenly she understood. ‘You know I’m innocent, don’t you?’ she murmured. ‘You know because you were the one who made the mistake, not me.’
‘Don’t be absurd!’ Leo’s face flushed deep red. ‘How can that be when—’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Leo!’ their father bit out. ‘Look at you, blushing like a schoolgirl!’ He stared at his son, mouth curling. ‘You can’t even save your own skin properly!’
Kate turned to her father. Sir Philip’s jaw was rigid with rage, grey brows low over furious eyes. It was as if she could see it all unfolding before her, like the plot of a book.
‘You knew too,’ she whispered.
‘Of course I knew!’ her father dismissed this remark, his gaze still fixed on Leo. ‘Do you think your damn fool of a brother could keep something like this to himself? He came running to me as soon as he realised what he’d done.’
Kate turned back to Leo. He was shrinking in his chair, his head hung so low she couldn’t see his face.
‘But you – you both sat in Dr Ormerod’s office and let him accuse me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Leo mumbled. ‘It was a mistake, honestly. I found your notes after I’d given the patient the second dose. It wasn’t my idea to destroy them, but Father said—’
‘Oh, shut up, Leo!’ Sir Philip cut him off angrily. ‘I’m trying to save your career, in case you hadn’t noticed.’ He took a deep breath, calming himself. ‘As you say, you made an honest mistake. You were under a great deal of pressure. Of course it’s unfortunate that a man died, but there is no reason why you should lose a promising future over it.’
‘And what about me?’ Kate asked.
‘What about you?’
Kate stared at her father’s profile. He hadn’t even looked her way once, she was so unimportant to him.
‘What about my promising future? Or doesn’t that count for anything?’
Sir Philip turned to her for the first time. His anger had gone, to be replaced by cold, implacable indifference. ‘You and your brother are different cases,’ he said. ‘Oh, I know yo
u think your career –’ he said the word with disdain ‘– is the be all and end all of your life. But it isn’t. One day you will marry, and then you’ll give this up. But Leo …’ He glanced at his son. ‘This is his life we are talking about. He stands to lose everything.’
‘Perhaps he shouldn’t be a doctor if he makes so many mistakes?’ Kate said quietly.
Leo looked up at her for the first time, his eyes wretched. How could she have not seen the guilt in them before? she wondered.
‘Of course he must be a doctor!’ her father snapped. ‘He is a Carlyle.’
‘So am I.’
Her father looked at her for a long time. Kate could see him calculating, weighing her up, choosing the right words to get the outcome he wanted.
‘I know,’ he said finally. ‘And fortunately for you, that name still carries a great deal of weight in this hospital.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘I will speak to some people on your behalf,’ he said. ‘You will have to go through this unfortunate disciplinary, but I’m sure I can convince the panel not to dismiss you.’
‘So I can stay here?’
‘Well, no.’ Sir Philip smiled thinly. ‘I’m sure you can see that would be very – embarrassing – under the circumstances?’
‘Of course.’ Kate looked at Leo. ‘You wouldn’t want a Carlyle with a blemished record at the Nightingale.’
‘Precisely.’ Her father pressed his hands together. ‘But you could go back to the Hampstead, start again there. I daresay they would be delighted to have you back.’
Kate stared across the desk at him. ‘And if I don’t agree?’
‘Then you will be dismissed from the Nightingale with a stain on your record and you will never be able to practise medicine again.’ Sir Philip regarded her with an even smile. ‘You are a sensible girl, Kate,’ he said. ‘I’m sure I can trust you to do the right thing.’
Chapter Forty-Two
The fourteenth of May was Lily Sedgewick’s birthday.
Sadie debated with herself for days about whether she should go and visit her mother. It had been months since they had last come face-to-face. Sadie still went round every couple of weeks to leave money for her, but she had never heard from her mother in all that time, not a single word of thanks nor anything else.
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