Connor gave her an infuriating wink. ‘I had to tell him something. Besides, we’re practically family, aren’t we?’
Effie sent him a scathing look. They might be physically alike, both tall, black-haired and blue-eyed, but as far as Effie was concerned, that was where any similarity ended. ‘Just because my sister married one of your cousins doesn’t make us flesh and blood.’
‘Thank God!’
‘At least we agree on something.’
Effie set off down the lane, intent on leaving him behind. But Connor’s long strides caught up with her easily.
‘I waited for you,’ he said. ‘I called at the Nurses’ Home this morning, like we agreed.’
‘I didn’t agree to anything,’ Effie reminded him, still looking ahead of her. ‘And you shouldn’t have called at the Nurses’ Home,’ she added. ‘Now I expect I’ll be in trouble with Miss Carrington.’
‘Is that the old biddy who runs the place? Aye, she didn’t seem too pleased, to be honest with you.’
Effie turned on him. ‘You have no right to come here and spoil everything.’
‘And you had no right to go breaking your mother’s heart!’ he shot back.
Guilt lanced her, and she turned and started walking again. ‘I didn’t meant to upset her,’ Effie said over her shoulder. ‘But I wouldn’t have had to run away if everyone had listened to me and let me do what I wanted in the first place.’
‘Oh, yes, because you’re so capable of looking after yourself, aren’t you, Euphemia?’ Connor mocked. ‘You’ve got such a level head on your shoulders, you’d never get into any trouble.’
‘I know how to look after myself. I lived in London for two years, didn’t I?’
‘And if last night was anything to go by, we can all see what good that did you!’
She stopped again, so abruptly Connor almost slammed into her. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Connor flicked his curly hair off his face, fluttered his eyelashes and mimicked her in a breathy voice, ‘Ooh, Kit, stop … don’t …’
Scalding colour flooded her face. ‘You were listening to me! How long were you standing there?’ she demanded.
‘Long enough.’
‘That is not what I sound like,’ she said huffily.
‘Yes, it is. And if I’d waited another minute you would have had your knickers off.’
Effie gasped as if he’d struck her. ‘How dare you!’
‘I’m only trying to talk some sense into you. You’re out of your depth with him, Effie.’
‘You know nothing about him.’
‘I know his kind. And he’s not the sort you should be getting involved with. You’re so easily flattered, you can’t see what men like him are really after. And once he’s had it he won’t want to know you. The next thing we know you’ll be coming back to Kilkenny six months gone and no sign of the father!’
‘Connor Cleary! How dare you speak to me like that!’
‘Someone’s got to talk some sense into you. You seem to have lost any that the Good Lord gave you, that’s for sure.’
‘Oh, and you’re so wise, aren’t you? What do you know about the world? At least I’ve seen a bit of it. The furthest you’ve ever been is Cork!’
‘I’m here now, aren’t I? It doesn’t take a lot of sense to get on a ferry.’
‘Then why don’t you do us all a favour and get one home?’
He folded his arms across his powerful chest. ‘I promised your mother, I’m not going anywhere unless you go with me.’
‘You’ll be here a long time, then.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ he said.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I had a feeling you’d decided to be stubborn as usual, so today I went and found myself a job, right here in Billinghurst.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘You didn’t?’
Connor nodded. He looked so pleased with himself, it was all she could do not to slap him. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard this but they’re crying out for strapping lads like me, since everyone joined up. And you’ll never guess where I’m working?’
She didn’t trust the glint in his blue eyes one bit. ‘Where?’ she asked cautiously.
‘At the hospital. I’m going to be working as an orderly, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on you,’ he grinned.
Effie glared at him. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled, she decided. ‘I don’t care,’ she declared, turning away. ‘It’s a free country, you can stay as long as you like. You’ll get bored with it before I do.’
Connor smiled maddeningly. ‘We’ll see, shall we?’ he said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ON NEW YEAR’S Eve, Jess decided to pay a visit to Sarah Newland. Daisy Maynard gave her the address.
‘But I don’t think you should go,’ she advised. ‘You saw what she was like at the WVS sale. She’s trouble.’
‘From what I saw, she wasn’t the one making the trouble,’ Jess replied. ‘Besides, I make up my own mind about people, thanks very much. I don’t need the likes of Mrs Huntley-Osborne and her cronies telling me what to think.’
‘Please yourself.’ Daisy shrugged. ‘But don’t blame me if you don’t receive a warm welcome. That girl’s got a temper to match her red hair!’
Sarah Newland lived in a drab one-roomed cottage on the far side of the village. Daisy’s warning was on Jess’s mind as she walked up to the front door and knocked. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come? It wasn’t like her. She preferred to mind her own business, and leave other people to get on with theirs. But at the same time, there was something about Sarah that intrigued her. She couldn’t forget the image of the girl, proud and defiant as the other women circled her like a pack of hyenas.
It took a long time for Sarah to open the door. She looked tired, her red hair hanging limply around her freckled face.
She frowned when she saw Jess. ‘Yes?’
Her abrupt manner took Jess aback. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m Jess,’ she said. ‘We met—’
‘The girl from the village hall,’ Sarah finished for her sharply. ‘I remember you. What do you want?’
‘To give you this.’ She took the matinee jacket out of her bag and handed it to the girl. Sarah glared at it, then back at Jess.
‘I told you, I don’t want anyone’s charity.’
‘And I ain’t offering any,’ Jess snapped back. Sarah’s rudeness was starting to grate on her. ‘But I bought it and it’s no use to me, so if you don’t want it I’ll just give it away to someone else.’
Sarah’s eyes fixed longingly on the jacket.
‘Wait a minute,’ she said, and disappeared inside the house, leaving the door ajar. Jess stepped inside, out of the cold.
The cottage was spotlessly clean and tidy, but rundown and reeking of damp. Ominous patches of dark mould blossomed along the skirting board. There was a bed in one corner, and an ancient stove and sink in the other. The only other pieces of furniture were a big scrubbed table and some chairs in the centre of the room, and a single armchair by the empty grate.
Sarah returned with her purse. ‘Sixpence, wasn’t it?’ she said.
‘That’s right.’ Jess watched her carefully counting out the farthings and halfpennies into her hand. She could see the girl could barely afford it and was tempted to ask for less, but she knew Sarah would never accept the jacket if she did.
‘Here you are.’ Sarah handed her the money and took the jacket. She held it up to her cheek, and for a second Jess glimpsed an unguarded side to her as she pressed the soft lemon-coloured wool against her skin.
But then she noticed Jess watching her and the mask snapped back into place.
Jess waited a moment, then said, ‘I’ll be off.’
As she went to leave, Sarah suddenly asked, ‘Why did you do it?’
‘What?’ Jess replied.
‘Why did you buy the jacket for me? It’s not as if you know me or anythin
g.’
It was a question Jess had asked herself several times. And there was only one answer she could come up with. ‘I suppose because I know what it’s like to be an outsider,’ she said.
‘An outsider?’ Sarah bristled. ‘Is that what you think I am?’
‘That’s what you are, ain’t it?’
Sarah stared at her so hard, Jess wondered if she had offended her again. Daisy was right, Sarah was a prickly character.
‘Anyway, I’ll be off.’ She turned and started to walk away.
‘I’ve just put the kettle on,’ Sarah said suddenly. ‘You could stay for a cup of tea, if you like?’ She eyed Jess warily, as if she expected her to refuse. There was a proud tilt to her chin that Jess recognised all too well. It was the look of someone who expected to be rebuffed, and who had made up her mind she wouldn’t care if she was.
‘I’d love to, if you’re making one.’
She sat at the table while Sarah put the kettle on and then built up the fire. She set it like an expert, Jess noticed. Then she remembered Daisy had said she’d been Mrs Huntley-Osborne’s maid.
How had she put up with it? Jess wondered. The woman must have been insufferable.
As Sarah made up the fire, she said, ‘What did you mean – about you being an outsider?’
Jess paused. ‘When I started nursing, a lot of the other girls used to leave me out because I wasn’t posh like them. I used to be a housemaid, and they didn’t think people like me had a right to be a nurse.’
Sarah looked over her shoulder at her. ‘You were a maid?’
‘I went into service when I was thirteen.’
‘Me too. I was sent to work straight from leaving the orphanage.’
‘For Mrs Huntley-Osborne?’
Sarah sent her a sharp look. ‘I suppose everyone’s been gossiping about me?’
‘If they have, I ain’t been listening. I don’t like gossip.’
‘You’re the only one in this village who doesn’t, then.’ Sarah stared into the flickering blue flames of the fire. ‘And, yes, I worked for Mrs Huntley-Osborne. But only for the past three years.’
Sarah hauled herself to her feet wearily. She had the exhausted, heavy-bellied look of a young woman who was nearing her time.
‘How long have you got before the baby comes?’ Jess asked.
‘A couple of months.’ Sarah went over to the stove, where the kettle had started to boil.
Jess hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘And the father?’
Sarah sent her a sharp look. ‘What about him?’
‘Does he know about the baby?’
‘He’s dead,’ Sarah said flatly. ‘He was killed by a U-boat in the Atlantic six months ago. But yes, he knew. He was going to marry me,’ she said, looking defensive. ‘He even gave me this ring. Look.’ She showed Jess a grubby piece of string tied around her neck. Dangling from it was the most exquisite solitaire ring. It looked like an antique, ornate twisted gold surrounding a glittering chunk of emerald. A ring like that must have cost a fortune, thought Jess.
She looked at it, then up at Sarah. ‘It’s beautiful. But why don’t you wear it on your finger?’
‘I don’t know … it just doesn’t seem right somehow, now he’s gone.’ Sarah gazed at the ring sadly, then slipped it back inside her jumper. ‘Anyway, he was going to marry me,’ she repeated firmly. ‘He loved me. Whatever anyone else says about it,’ she murmured.
Jess watched her making the tea. She couldn’t imagine why everyone had turned against Sarah Newland. Yes, she was a bit of a spiky character, but who wouldn’t be, in her situation? All Jess could see was a young girl who was down on her luck. She had fallen pregnant, but that wasn’t the worst crime in the world. The rest of the village should have been giving her a helping hand, not condemning her.
‘Why does everyone have it in for you?’ she asked, as Sarah set the cups down in front of them.
Sarah gave her a resigned smile, as if she had been expecting the question ‘I can tell you that in three words,’ she said. ‘Mrs Huntley-Osborne.’
‘But why?’
‘She thinks I betrayed her.’ Sarah stared down at her cup. ‘As far as she’s concerned, she took me in and gave me a roof over my head, and I repaid her by getting myself into trouble, as she called it.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘Mrs Huntley-Osborne likes to think of herself as the most respectable woman in the village, and having a pregnant unmarried maid would definitely give the wrong impression …’
‘But that’s no reason to turn everyone against you, surely?’
‘She wants to drive me out. She’s even tried to get the landlord to evict me, but thank God, he needs the rent more than he needs that woman’s approval.’ Sarah’s mouth was a taut line. ‘But I know her, and it’s only a matter of time before she gets her way.’
Jess stared at her. ‘But I don’t understand. Why would it be any of her business what you do?’
‘Because I’m an embarrassment to her, I suppose.’
‘An embarrassment?’
Sarah shrugged. ‘That’s all I can think. But who knows what goes on in that woman’s mind? Sugar?’ she offered. ‘It’s only saccharine, I’m afraid. It’s all I could get.’
‘No, thank you.’ Jess glanced across the table at Sarah. Her face was closed, deliberately expressionless. Jess had a feeling there was much more to the story, but if there was, Sarah Newland wasn’t going to be the one to tell it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THAT NIGHT, AS the day staff were enjoying a New Year’s Eve drinks party in the dining room, Jess was still stuck on nights in the Fever Wards. And it seemed as if fate had planned to make the last night of 1941 as difficult as possible for her.
‘The night nurse in charge of the diphtheria ward has been sent off sick, so you’ll have to go and cover for her,’ Miss Tanner the Night Sister told Jess when she reported for duty. ‘I’ve arranged for Nurse Frimley to take over your ward.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘Come with me, and I’ll show you what needs to be done.’
Miss Tanner walked through the diphtheria ward with her, describing the various cases, and their stages of treatment. Jess had never imagined she would miss the whooping cough ward, with its cacophony of coughing, retching and endless wet and dirty beds. But she feared the menacing silence of the diphtheria ward. All the patients were kept lying flat on their backs, too poorly to make a sound. And then there was the foul smell too; the sweet, sickly odour of the disease mingling with the sharp tang of disinfectant made her want to retch.
Miss Tanner pointed out a new patient, a four-year-old girl who had arrived that afternoon.
‘Dr French has already increased her serum to twenty thousand units, but she seems to be deteriorating quite quickly, so keep an eye on her and call him if you think her dosage needs to be increased,’ Miss Tanner instructed.
‘Yes, Sister.’
As they returned to the sister’s desk, Miss Tanner said, ‘Are you sure you’ll be able to manage, Nurse?’
‘I’ll do my best, Sister,’ Jess promised.
Miss Tanner smiled. ‘I’m sure you will, I know I can rely on you.’
Once the night sister had gone, Jess went through the ward, checking on all the children. She administered serum, swabbed throats with carbolic, gave strychnine injections and raised beds to stimulate failing hearts.
And all the while she was aware that Pamela Jarvis, the little girl in the corner, was getting steadily worse.
By ten o’clock, she decided to telephone Dr French.
‘I’m worried about the new admission, Doctor. Pamela Jarvis. The little girl with faucial diphtheria? She doesn’t seem to be responding to the serum.’
She could hear the sound of laughter in the background. He might have been on call, but it sounded as if Dr French was determined not to miss out on the fun of New Year’s Eve. He had obviously sloped off to join the drinks party.
‘She’s very pale and restles
s, and she’s having increasing difficulty swallowing,’ Jess persisted. ‘I wondered if we should increase her dosage?’
‘We?’ Dr French echoed coldly. ‘When did you qualify as a doctor, Nurse Jago?’ In the background came the sound of shattering glass, followed by a whoop of laughter.
Jess swallowed down her rising temper. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m just a little anxious about her, that’s all.’
He sighed heavily. ‘Very well, I’ll come as soon as I can. But I’m rather busy at the moment.’
I can hear that, Jess thought, listening to the voices in the background. ‘But if you could …’
‘As soon as I can, Nurse,’ he said abruptly, and hung up.
Jess tried to stay calm, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Pamela. She set up a steam tent but the little girl’s breathing was laboured and noisy as she desperately tried to suck in the air past the dirty yellow, foul-smelling membrane that extended across her throat. If it spread any further, the child would suffocate.
After half an hour there was still no sign of Dr French. Jess tried to telephone him again, but there was no reply from the exchange. It was as if the whole world was off having a good time, leaving her to struggle alone to keep poor little Pamela alive.
But perhaps not the whole world …
A thought suddenly struck her, and she dashed down the corridor to the whooping cough ward.
‘Will you listen out for my lot?’ she begged Nurse Frimley. ‘I just have to run and find someone. I’ll only be a minute.’
Nurse Frimley, a nervous second year who was already clearly overwhelmed by the responsibility she’d been given, jumped to her feet. ‘But what if—’
‘One minute!’ Jess promised, and darted off before Nurse Frimley could say any more.
Dr Drake was coming out of Male Medical when Jess caught up with him. He was clearly having as bad a night as she was. He looked utterly shattered.
He started off down the corridor but Jess called after him. ‘Doctor?’
He swung round. ‘Yes?’
‘Can you come with me, please? I need you to check a diphtheria patient.’
His frown deepened. ‘Dr French is covering that ward tonight. Call him,’ he said shortly.
Nightingales Under the Mistletoe Page 16
