A Nightingale Christmas Promise

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Yes,’ Sadie said. ‘Yes, they were.’

  Belle put her hand on her shoulder. ‘Shall we sort out the wardrobe next?’

  Lily didn’t have many clothes, and what she had were shabby and threadbare.

  Belle pulled them out and laid them on the bed. ‘There’s nothing here that’s fit for a funeral,’ she said. ‘Nothing you’d call respectable, anyway.’

  Sadie picked up her mother’s favourite shawl, the one always wrapped around her shoulders on cold nights. It was old, faded pink and moth-eaten in places, but when Sadie held it up to her face she could breathe in Lily Sedgewick’s faint scent. Tears prickled in her eyes.

  ‘We should find something blue,’ Belle said. ‘That was her favourite colour.’

  ‘Was it? I didn’t know.’

  Belle smiled. ‘She always promised herself that if she ever got married she would have a sky blue dress, with a feather in her hat.’ She caught Sadie looking at her and shook her head. ‘It was when we were both young and fanciful,’ she said.

  There were a couple of hatboxes stacked on top of the wardrobe. Sadie pulled a chair over to the wardrobe and stood on it to lift them down. Behind them was another box, smaller and heavier than the others.

  ‘What’s this?’ She passed it down to Belle.

  ‘Gawd knows.’ Belle put it on the bed and stood staring at it.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Sadie asked.

  Belle shook her head. ‘You do it,’ she said. ‘It don’t feel right, me doing it.’

  Sadie climbed off the chair and lifted the lid on the box. Inside was a jumble of papers.

  ‘Blimey!’ Belle laughed nervously. ‘Don’t tell me she left a will?’

  ‘It doesn’t look like it. Just a couple of old photographs and these.’ Sadie picked up a handful of the papers and rifled through them. ‘School reports. My old school reports.’ She looked up at Belle. ‘Why would she keep these?’

  Belle laughed. ‘Because she was proud of you, you daft ha’porth!’

  Sadie looked back at the papers in her hands. ‘I didn’t know. She never said.’

  ‘No, well, she wouldn’t, would she? That was Lily Sedgewick all over. Too proud for her own good.’ Belle looked at Sadie. ‘Like mother, like daughter, I reckon.’

  Sadie looked away sharply, delving back into the box. ‘There’s something else in here, too – it looks like a letter.’

  ‘Who’s it from?’ Belle looked over her shoulder.

  ‘Not from – to.’ Sadie read her mother’s scrawl on the envelope and handed it to Belle. ‘It’s to you.’

  ‘Me?’ Belle frowned at it. ‘Why would your mother be sending me letters? I saw her practically every day!’

  ‘Open it and find out.’

  Belle hesitated for a moment, looking down at the letter in her hands. Then she shook her head. ‘I’ll read it later on,’ she said, tucking it into her pocket.

  ‘But I want to know what it says!’

  ‘And I’ll tell you. When I’ve read it.’ Belle picked up one of the dresses, a flowery print. ‘What do you think of this one? It’s got a bit of blue in it.’

  ‘It’s nice,’ Sadie said.

  ‘It’ll have to do, anyway.’ Belle folded it up. ‘You’ll take it down to the undertaker’s, will you?’

  ‘Why don’t you do it?’ Sadie said.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I was thinking, it might be better if you sorted out the funeral arrangements.’ The words came out in a rush. ‘I’ll pay for it all, of course, but you should sort it out.’

  Belle sent her a shrewd look. ‘What’s brought all this on?’

  ‘Nothing. I just think you’d know better than me what she would have wanted. You were her friend.’

  ‘And you were her daughter.’

  ‘A daughter who didn’t even know what her favourite colour was!’ A dam broke inside Sadie then and the next moment tears were spilling down her cheeks. ‘I wish I’d had a chance to talk to her,’ she sobbed. ‘There are so many things I wish I’d said.’

  ‘Oh, love.’ Belle laid down the dress and gathered Sadie into her arms. ‘Don’t take on like this. You were a wonderful daughter.’

  ‘I wasn’t!’

  ‘You were. Your mother wasn’t an easy woman to love, I can tell you that. She was too prickly, too proud. But she knew how much you loved her. And she loved you too, with all her heart.’

  ‘I don’t know why,’ Sadie mumbled. ‘I ruined her life.’

  Belle held her at arms’ length. ‘And how do you work that out?’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for me she would never have stayed with Jimmy Clyde. I was the reason she died.’

  ‘Now you listen to me, lady!’ Belle gave her a little shake. ‘You weren’t the reason Lily Sedgewick died. That murdering bastard Jimmy Clyde did that to her, not you. You were the reason she lived.’ She stared at Sadie, forcing her to meet her gaze. ‘Girls in our game don’t make old bones,’ she said. ‘Especially girls as fragile as your mother. As soon as I met her on the streets, I didn’t reckon her chances. I did my best to keep an eye on her, but I still thought she’d be chucking herself in the Thames before she was twenty. Then when she fell pregnant with you – well, I reckoned one of those backstreet doctors would soon finish her off.’

  Her expression softened. ‘But Lily went ahead and had you – well, it gave her someone to live for. You depended on her, and she had to keep going for your sake if not her own. She once told me that you were the only thing in her life that was truly pure and good. She didn’t have much of a heart, but I reckon what she did have was because of you.’

  Sadie sniffed back her tears. ‘I loved her too,’ she said. ‘Only I couldn’t always show it.’

  Belle’s mouth twisted. ‘Like I once said to you, you were as bad as each other.’

  Sadie remembered how she had bridled at that, taking it as an insult. But now the thought filled her with pride.

  She looked down at the dress, folded on the bed. Lily Sedgewick deserved better, she thought. In life and in death.

  And Sadie vowed to make sure that for once her mother would get it.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The night before Kate was due to appear before the disciplinary committee she was summoned by Dr Ormerod and told she was to be on call on the military ward.

  ‘Dr French is also working overnight, but he is covering four wards and needs assistance,’ he said. ‘Young Evans was supposed to be assigned to Monaghan, but the damn fool fell down a flight of stairs and fractured his ankle this morning. Horsing about as usual, no doubt.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I understand if under the circumstances you feel it would be too much for you to take on …’

  ‘Of course I’ll do it, sir,’ Kate said. ‘If I’m needed.’

  Dr Ormerod peered closely at her from behind his spectacles. ‘Needless to say, your work will be closely supervised,’ he said.

  ‘I understand.’ Kate’s face burnt with shame. There it was again, the cloud of guilt and suspicion that hung over her wherever she went. Even Dr Werner double-checked her work in Pathology these days.

  She could feel it pressing down on her as she reported to Monaghan ward that night. She could see it in the wary looks of the night sister and the young probationer assigned to look after the ward overnight. She imagined the patients whispering about her, knowing her secret.

  There goes that doctor, the one who killed Corporal Rayner …

  And then there was Rufus French, emerging from behind a set of screens, his head down, preoccupied. Kate stood still, holding herself rigid.

  He strode the length of the ward before he looked up and noticed her.

  ‘Miss Carlyle!’

  He looked shocked, Kate thought. Probably wondering, like the rest of them, why she had been allowed back on the ward.

  ‘Dr Ormerod told me to come,’ she blurted out. ‘Mr Evans is in the sick bay.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course. He told me about Evans.
But he didn’t mention that you—’ Rufus stopped, gathering himself. He looked embarrassed, Kate thought. ‘It’s good to see you, Miss Carlyle,’ he managed finally.

  Is it? Kate thought. ‘What would you like me to do, Doctor?’ she asked.

  ‘Well …’ Rufus looked about him for a moment. ‘Gunner Solomon in bed two needs more pain medication. And Night Sister says that Private Copeland in bed ten seems rather restless. Perhaps you could take a look at him, prescribe something to help him sleep if necessary?’

  Kate paused. ‘And will you be checking the prescription before I administer it?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s no need for that, Miss Carlyle.’

  She studied the expression on Rufus’ face. ‘Yes, Doctor. Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘And then go up to the night corridor and get some sleep. It should be a fairly quiet night tonight, so you might as well rest while you can.’

  As it turned out, Harry Copeland did not want any medication to help him sleep.

  ‘I don’t mind being awake, Doctor,’ he said. ‘I prefer it, as a matter of fact. I don’t always like the dreams, you see. Beside, I like to watch the stars.’ He nodded towards the window. ‘It’s a fine, clear night, isn’t it? A good night for star-gazing.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  ‘I know all the different constellations, you know. I can pick out Orion, and The Plough, and Cassiopeia’s Chair. My father taught them to me …’ His voice trailed off.

  Kate barely noticed his silence for a moment, she was so busy reading and rereading his notes, in case she had missed anything.

  Finally she replaced them. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else I can do for you—’

  ‘There is something. Will you sit with me, Doctor?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Will you sit with me? Just for a few minutes. It gets a bit lonely on your own.’

  ‘Well, I do have another patient to see –’

  ‘Of course.’ Harry settled back against his pillows. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t mean to be a trouble to you. You’ve got people who need you a lot more than I do.’

  He looked so dejected, Kate said, ‘Look, I’ll just go and see to this other patient and then I’ll come back and sit with you.’

  ‘Will you?’ He looked up at her, his face bright with hope.

  ‘Of course,’ Kate said. ‘Give me a few minutes to see to my next patient, then I’ll be back, I promise.’

  As it turned out, the night proved to be busier than she had expected. No sooner had she administered pain medication to Gunner Solomon in bed two than another patient woke up from a nightmare, thrashing and screaming, and Kate needed to help the poor little probationer settle him. His cries woke another patient, who also needed help with his pain. Then another woke in a panic, tried to get out of bed and burst open his stitches.

  ‘Looks like you’ve had a busy night?’ Rufus French commented ruefully when Kate summoned him. ‘And there was I, thinking you’d have turned in by now.’

  ‘No such luck, I’m afraid.’

  He sent her a considering look. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is probably the last thing you need before—’

  ‘My disciplinary hearing?’ Kate finished for him. ‘Actually, it’s just what I need,’ she said. ‘I’d far rather keep my mind occupied. I’m not sleeping a great deal at the moment anyway.’

  ‘No. No, I daresay you aren’t.’ He looked as if he was about to say more, then he changed the subject. ‘I’ll have to take this patient off to theatre and get him re-stitched. Will you be all right on your own for a while?’

  ‘Of course, Doctor.’

  As Kate turned away, Rufus suddenly blurted out, ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think you did it.’

  Kate frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I don’t know what happened,’ he went on, his words spilling out. ‘All I know is, you would never have made a mistake like that. It’s just not like you.’

  Their eyes met and held. Kate’s heart swelled with gratitude, and for a moment she longed to tell him the truth about what had happened. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a hushed, ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  He went on staring at her, and once again Kate had the feeling he wanted to say more. But then he recollected himself.

  ‘Good luck, anyway,’ he said. ‘I shall be keeping my fingers crossed for you, Kate.’

  ‘Thank you – Rufus.’

  No sooner had Dr French left the ward than Kate was called to attend to another patient who had tried to get out of bed, stumbled and hit his head on the bedside locker. It took a long time for her and the probationer to wrestle the man’s dead weight back into bed and then she had to check him over for signs of concussion.

  She emerged from behind the screens, rubbing her weary eyes. She was surprised to see it was nearly one in the morning. Where had the last four hours gone? she wondered. It only seemed like five minutes since she had reported for duty.

  She was halfway down the ward before she remembered her promise to Harry Copeland. Kate turned on her heel and headed back to his bed. The poor man would have given up on her by now, she thought. He was probably fast asleep, not waiting for her …

  The sight of his empty bed stopped her in her tracks.

  ‘Nurse?’ she summoned the probationer. ‘Where is this patient?’

  Even in the dimly lit ward, she could see the colour drain from the young nurse’s face. ‘I – I don’t know, miss,’ she stammered.

  They searched the bathrooms, and the kitchen, and the sink room and the sluice. They even looked in the linen cupboards and under the beds. But there was no sign of Harry Copeland.

  All the while, Kate fought down a rising sense of panic.

  I should have sat with him, she thought. If anything happens to him, it will be my fault.

  The last place to look was the terrace. The probationer opened the double doors and they stepped out into the warm night air. The wide terrace was set with empty chairs, but there was no sign of Harry.

  ‘I thought he might be out here.’ The probationer’s voice was barely above a whimper. ‘I know he likes to look at the stars …’

  The stars. Kate looked up, and that was when she saw the tiny figure silhouetted against the night sky.

  ‘Up there,’ she whispered, her mouth dry with terror. ‘On the roof.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ the probationer gasped in panic. ‘What’s he doing there?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ But even as she said it, Kate felt an uneasy stirring in her gut. You know, a voice whispered in her head.

  ‘What shall we do?’

  Kate took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm. ‘Go and find the night sister, let her know what’s happened,’ she said.

  ‘And what are you going to do?’

  Kate looked at her. ‘What do you think?’ she said.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Harry Copeland had his back to her and was looking up at the sky.

  ‘Private Copeland?’ Kate’s voice sounded loud in the night-time quiet. ‘Harry?’

  He did not respond. Kate climbed cautiously out of the skylight. Outside the window there was a narrow ledge before the roof dropped away in a steep slope. Harry Copeland was perched on the parapet below, his legs swinging over the edge.

  Kate took a cautious step in the darkness and felt her foot slide away beneath her. She stepped back, gripping the window frame to right herself.

  ‘Don’t move any closer,’ Harry called out, not turning round. ‘You might fall.’

  ‘I was just about to say the same to you!’ Fear made her voice tremble. ‘Come back, Harry, please.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can. I’ll lean down and put my hand out—’

  ‘I can’t because I have to die.’ Harry looked up, scanning the rooftops on the horizon. ‘I should never have come home,’ he said softly. ‘I should have died in France with the rest of my mates.’

>   ‘But you didn’t. You were one of the lucky ones.’

  ‘Lucky?’ he echoed bitterly. ‘Is that what you think?’

  The night air was cooler on the roof, and every breath of breeze seemed to howl like a gale around her. Kate crouched down, scrabbling to find her footing on the sloping tiles, searching for a way down to Harry.

  And all the time, a voice in her head nagged at her. If only you’d sat with him when he asked you …

  ‘Please come back,’ she begged. ‘We can talk about this …’

  ‘It’s too late for talking, miss.’ He glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘Go back,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe. I don’t want your broken neck on my conscience too.’

  ‘I don’t want yours on mine, either.’

  He turned away from her, his gaze moving restlessly around.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘So peaceful. You can’t imagine how I used to dream about seeing England again, when I was over there. I used to think if only I could get back here, everything would be all right.’

  ‘Everything will be all right.’ Kate edged down the slope towards him, inching her way, scraping her hands on the rough slate. ‘You’re nearly better, Harry. You’ll soon be going home to your family.’

  ‘Home?’ His voice sounded bitter. ‘I can’t go home. I can never go home.’ He reached up to dash a tear from his cheek. ‘I’m an embarrassment to them. A coward.’

  Kate’s feet slipped and she slid the last few feet towards the low brick parapet. For a moment she could only lie there, her eyes squeezed closed, perfectly still, listening to the sound of her heartbeat crashing in her ears.

  ‘I told you to go back.’ Harry’s voice came from close by. When she opened her eyes he was only a few feet away, still sitting on the parapet swinging his legs above the void.

  A moment later there was a sound from above and she heard the night sister calling out to her.

  ‘Miss Carlyle?’

  Kate saw the panic and dismay on Harry’s face and called back, ‘It’s all right, Sister. Harry and I are just talking.’