Nightingales Under the Mistletoe

by Donna Douglas

  Millie looked down at her blue nurse’s dress. ‘Not quite. Surely you must know I’ve started nursing again?’

  ‘Have you? Rather daring of you, I must say. What does your grandmother have to say about it?’

  ‘Oh, she’s utterly furious, of course. She can barely bring herself to speak to me. But I’m hoping she’ll come round eventually.’ Millie went over to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a sherry, then offered one to Teddy.

  ‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s a splendid idea.’ He raised his glass to her. ‘Here’s to you, Millie.’

  ‘Don’t let Granny hear you say that!’

  As she was about to sit down, she spotted the vase of flowers. ‘Are these from you, too?’

  ‘Much as I would like to lay claim to the idea, sadly not. They must be from one of your other admirers?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. I have so many.’ She picked up the card and read it.

  ‘Well?’ Teddy watched her over the rim of his glass. ‘It’s true, isn’t it, I have a rival for your affections?’

  ‘Actually, they’re from Squadron Leader Tremayne. He’s our Liaison Officer.’

  ‘Liaison? That sounds rather racy. What kind of liaison?’ He waggled his brows suggestively.

  ‘Not the kind you have.’ Millie read the message on the card again. ‘He was just wishing me luck on my first day back at the hospital.’

  ‘That was very nice of him.’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ Millie smiled at the card and put it back. ‘I didn’t think he’d remember.’

  Teddy drained his drink and put down his glass. ‘Well, since this Tremayne character has impressed you so much, I feel it only right that I should go one further by taking you out for the evening.’

  ‘Really, I couldn’t,’ Millie started to say. ‘I’ve been on my feet all day and I’m so tired.’

  ‘Nonsense, darling, I’m only suggesting dinner in Tunbridge Wells, not dancing all night at the Kit Kat Club. Go on, it’ll do you good.’

  ‘I really don’t think so.’

  ‘Some other night, then? Or better still, I’ll take you and Henry out for lunch. What do you think of that?’

  Millie considered it for a moment. She was determined after Seb not to allow herself to get involved with another man, whatever her grandmother might think. But Teddy was one of her oldest friends, and there was the added benefit of their not being attracted to one another in the slightest.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘READY, STEADY … GO!’

  Grace took off at a sprint, heaving the wheelchair in front of her. The sergeant was a heavy-set man, and pushing him wasn’t easy. Millie, on the other hand, was wheeling a wiry young lance corporal, and managed to sprint ahead. She had reached the double doors at the end of the ward before Grace had even got so far as the table.

  ‘I win!’ Tommo crowed, his arms shooting into the air. ‘That’s two cigs you owe me, Pops!’

  ‘Blooming cheat if you ask me,’ Sergeant Jefferson grumbled, reaching into his locker. ‘Poor Nurse Maynard was hauling a sack of spuds. No offence,’ he added quietly to the man in the wheelchair.

  ‘Oh, pipe down, you’re just a bad loser. It ain’t my fault if Nurse Maynard can’t run for toffee, is it?’

  ‘I heard that!’ Grace, breathless and doubled over with a stitch, managed to gasp.

  Tommo stuck a cigarette between his lips and carefully placed the other in Alan Jones’s locker. ‘Your share of our winnings, mate,’ he said. ‘You can keep it till later.’

  Alan swivelled his eye to look at him, but said nothing.

  ‘We took’ em good, didn’t we?’ Tommo cackled, nudging him. ‘Wait till the next race, we’ll really clean up then.’

  ‘There isn’t going to be a next race,’ Millie said. ‘Sister will be back soon.’

  ‘Sister is already back,’ came a voice from the doorway. ‘Would somebody please explain what’s going on here? Why are these men out of bed?’

  Millie stepped forward. ‘Um – I can explain,’ she began. Poor Millie, Grace thought. She looked utterly mortified, a blush burning all the way up from her starched collar to her blonde hairline.

  ‘We were just having a laugh, Sister,’ Tommo butted in.

  ‘I might have known you’d be involved, Mr Thompson. What have I told you about gambling on my ward?’ Miss Wallace’s stern brown gaze swept around the room. The men shuffled and stared at the floor like naughty schoolboys. Even Tommo looked slightly abashed.

  Only Grace, standing close to her, saw the spark of mirth in the ward sister’s brown eyes. Miss Wallace was a good sport, and anything that cheered up the men was usually all right with her.

  ‘Now clear up immediately,’ she instructed Grace and Millie. ‘This is supposed to be a hospital ward, not a racecourse!’

  ‘Can you let us know when you’ll be taking your break tomorrow, Sister?’ Tommo asked cheekily, as Grace and Millie set about pushing the tables and chairs back into place. ‘Only Private Radley’s got some humbugs I wouldn’t mind winning off him!’

  Miss Wallace glared at him. ‘Don’t push your luck, Mr Thompson.’

  Once everything in the ward had been put back in its rightful place, it was time for the midday meal. Tommo was waiting as Grace brought over Alan Jones’s tray.

  ‘Not junket again?’ he asked, looking down at the plate.

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘Alan doesn’t like junket.’

  Grace glanced up at Alan Jones. His blank face gave nothing away. ‘How do you know?’ she asked.

  ‘’Cos we’re mates. I know these things.’ Tommo leaned forward. ‘I can see it in his face, see, when he likes and doesn’t like things. Ain’t that right, pal?’ He grinned at Grace. ‘He likes you, Nurse. I can tell you that. He thinks you’re a right corker!’

  Grace thought she caught the merest flicker of agreement in Alan’s eye. But it was gone immediately.

  ‘You’re having me on,’ she declared. ‘Anyway, here’s Mr Jones’s dinner. I take it you want to feed him?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Tommo moved to sit in the chair next to Alan’s bed, set aside his crutches and lowered himself down carefully, then took the tray from her. ‘He’ll miss me doing this when I’m gone, won’t he?’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘Have they said when you might be fit enough to leave?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not yet. The doctor’s still making a meal of this leg of mine, saying it ain’t mended properly. But I’ll be fit enough to go before long, don’t you worry!’ He reached over and gave Alan a spoonful of junket. ‘I can’t wait.’

  Grace smiled. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like the service here?’

  ‘It ain’t that, Nurse.’ For once Tommo’s face was deadly serious. ‘I’ve never really had much of a family, growing up. My old man was a drinker, beat us all black and blue until I couldn’t stand it any more and ran away from home. But when I joined up – I don’t know, it was like I finally belonged somewhere. I had a place to sleep, regular meals, a bunch of pals I could rely on, like brothers. It’s the best life I’ve ever known, to be truthful.’

  Grace felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘I had no idea. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be. Like I said, I’ve got a family now. And I’ll be going back to them soon enough.’ The next minute Tommo’s cheeky smile was back in place and he held up the spoon. ‘See? He hasn’t touched this. I told you he didn’t like it. Do us a favour, Nurse. Go and ask Sister if he can have a bit of that sausage and mash. You’ll eat that, won’t you, mate?’

  After her shift finished at five, Grace cycled home. It was already growing dark, and as she skirted the airfield she could make out the looming outlines of three Halifax bombers being manoeuvred in from the dispersal areas. There were voices in the distance, people crossing the runway, guiding the planes into position for take-off.

  To her other side, the field was cov
ered in a drift of snowdrops, tiny beautiful flowers that heralded the coming of spring. It seemed almost like an omen to her. Perhaps it meant that soon they would win this war. People were talking about the coming of the Americans as if it changed everything, but they had been living under the shadow of war and death and shortages for so long, Grace had almost ceased to believe that things could ever be different.

  She was so busy gazing over her shoulder she didn’t look where she was going. She felt the front wheel of her bicycle hit something hard and heavy, and the next thing she knew she was sprawled on the ground.

  For a moment she lay there, dazed. She had just started to pick herself up when she heard footsteps running towards her.

  ‘Hey! Are you OK?’ She recognised his voice immediately. It was Daisy’s boyfriend Max.

  He reached down and lifted her on to her feet. ‘I heard a crash. Are you hurt?’

  ‘Only my pride!’ Grace brushed the dirt off her hands. ‘I don’t know what happened. One minute I was cycling along, the next I’d gone flying over the handlebars.’

  ‘I guess you must have hit something.’ Max bent down to examine the bicycle. ‘The chain’s broken,’ he said. ‘I could try to fix it for you, if you like?’

  ‘It’s all right, I can sort it out myself when I get home, or I’ll get Walter to do it. I’ll leave it here and collect it in the morning, when it’s light.’

  ‘Shall I carry it back for you now?’

  ‘No, thanks all the same. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  But as soon as she put her weight on her foot, it buckled beneath her.

  ‘Here, lean on me.’ Max’s arm went around her, pulling her against him. Grace knew she wasn’t the daintiest of girls, but he almost lifted her off the ground. The rough fabric of his flying suit smelled of engine oil. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

  ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m all right, honestly.’ She took another step forward, gritting her teeth.

  Max sighed. ‘Come on, let me help,’ he said. ‘It’ll only take ten minutes to walk you down to your cottage.’

  Reluctantly, Grace allowed him to help her.

  ‘I feel such a fool,’ she said, as she limped along beside him. ‘It’s my own daft fault for admiring those snowdrops.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘They’re my favourites,’ she said. ‘When I see them I always know better times are on the way.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘I suppose that sounds fanciful to you?’

  ‘Not at all. We could use a little hope now and then.’

  She glanced sideways at him. ‘I saw the planes. Are you flying tonight?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not me. Not this time. I was up last night, so I’ve got some time off.’

  They trudged along in silence, side by side in the darkness. She wished she didn’t have to lean against Max for support. The solid heat of his body through his flying suit felt too intimate, too uncomfortable.

  She tried to straighten up, cautiously testing her weight on her ankle. Pain shot up her leg and she had to grit her teeth to stop herself from crying out.

  ‘I’m glad I ran into you,’ Max said. ‘I wanted to thank you again for Christmas Day.’

  Grace laughed. ‘I don’t know why! Like I said then, we should be thanking you. You saved our bacon.’

  ‘Pity I couldn’t save your goose!’

  Grace smiled back at him. ‘You know, my offer of a proper dinner still stands, any time you want to call.’

  ‘As long as I let you know I’m coming first next time?’ Max asked.

  Grace pulled a face. ‘Oh, dear, was I that unwelcoming?’

  ‘Put it this way, I’ve been less scared facing flak over the English Channel than I was when I saw your face!’

  ‘I’m sorry, you just caught me on a bad day. I hope I didn’t scare you off? Daisy would never forgive me.’

  He went quiet until they reached the cottage and he set her down beside the front door.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ Grace asked him. ‘I think Daisy might be home …’

  ‘No, thank you. I should be getting back.’

  ‘Thank you for carrying me,’ she laughed.

  ‘Any time.’

  She watched him sauntering off back down the lane, his hands in his pockets, then she turned and let herself into the cottage.

  Daisy was laying the table.

  ‘I thought I’d make a start, since I’m going out tonight, and – what happened to you?’ She frowned as Grace hobbled over to the sink, clinging on to the stone edge for support.

  ‘I fell off my bike.’

  ‘Sit down and let me look at it.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘I can see from your face it isn’t. Now sit down.’ Daisy guided her into a chair. Grace sank into it, grateful for the relief.

  She winced in pain as her sister examined her ankle gently. ‘Well, I don’t think you’ve broken it,’ said Daisy. ‘But it’s very swollen. I’m surprised you managed to walk all the way home. It must have been agony.’

  Grace opened her mouth to say that Max had helped her, but something stopped her. ‘Will it be all right, do you think?’ she asked instead.

  Daisy examined her injury again. ‘I think it’s probably just a sprain,’ she said. ‘I’ll bandage it for you, but you’ll need to get your feet up and rest tonight.’

  Grace laughed. ‘How can I do that? I’ve got to get tea ready for the kids.’

  ‘I’m sure we can manage to put a bit of bread and dripping on the table between us!’ Daisy said. ‘Anyway, I can help. I’m not going out until later.’

  ‘Are you seeing Max?’

  Daisy pulled a face. ‘No, he’s busy.’

  ‘Is he? I thought …’ Grace stopped herself.

  ‘What?’ Daisy frowned.

  ‘Nothing.’ Grace looked towards the window. Whatever was happening between Daisy and Max, it was none of her business. She just hoped her sister wouldn’t get hurt. ‘Let’s see about that bread and dripping, shall we?’

  By the following morning the swelling round her ankle had gone right down, and Grace could put her weight on it, if she was careful. She was getting ready for work when she remembered her broken bike.

  ‘Could you be a love and go and collect it for me?’ she asked Walter. ‘It’ll need fixing, but I’ll do that when I get home tonight.’

  Walter went out, and fifteen minutes later she heard him trundling back across the yard, pushing her bicycle over the cobbles.

  Grace went to the back door and looked out. ‘You were quick,’ she said. ‘Did you manage to fix it?’

  ‘You must be imagining things,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Come and see for yourself.’

  She followed him out into the yard. Sure enough, there was her bicycle, as good as new. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘it was definitely broken last night.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t now.’ Walter grinned. ‘Maybe the fairies fixed it.’

  ‘Maybe they did,’ Grace agreed.

  She wondered if the fairies had left the bunch of snowdrops in her front basket, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘DON’T LOOK NOW, Nurse, but your admirer’s just walked in!’

  Mrs Flynn looked up with a gaping grin, her false teeth in the bowl on Effie’s lap.

  She didn’t need to be told. She had felt Connor Cleary’s presence like a cold breeze on the back of her neck.

  She tried to concentrate on the task in hand, swabbing Mrs Flynn’s gums with a mouth mop. ‘He’s not my admirer,’ she muttered. ‘Rinse out your mouth, please.’

  Mrs Flynn took a swig of Glycothylomine and spat it into the dish.

  ‘I don’t know how you can say that. He’s always here, and he’s always got his eye on you. Ooh, he’s coming over. Quick, pass me my teeth, I don’t want him to see me like this!’

  She grabbed them and slipped th
em into her mouth just as Connor came over. ‘Good morning, Mrs Flynn. How’s my favourite patient?’

  Effie busied herself collecting up the mouth swabs, determined not to meet his eye. Who did he think he was, swaggering round the ward like a doctor doing his rounds? He always did it, and it got on her nerves.

  Mrs Flynn simpered like a schoolgirl. ‘I’m very well, thank you, Mr Cleary.’

  ‘How many more times do I have to tell you? It’s Connor to my friends.’

  Her smile widened. ‘And you can call me Deirdre, if you like?’

  ‘Deirdre, eh? Did you know, according to Celtic folklore, Deirdre was the most beautiful woman in the whole of Ireland?’

  ‘Really?’ Mrs Flynn looked entranced. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Legend has it she was betrothed to a great king, but she fell in love with his nephew. The king got jealous and killed the nephew, so she threw herself under the king’s chariot rather than live with a man she didn’t love.’

  Mrs Flynn clasped her plump hands together. ‘Oh, isn’t that romantic?’

  ‘I’ll tell you something else, Deirdre. On the spot where they both died two yew trees sprang up, and over the years they entwined together so the lovers were reunited in death.’

  ‘What a lovely story.’ Mrs Flynn turned to Effie, her face rapt. ‘He’s a gifted storyteller, isn’t he, Nurse?’

  ‘Full of blarney, more like,’ Effie muttered under her breath.

  ‘Your name’s Euphemia, isn’t it?’ Mrs Flynn went on. ‘Go on, Connor. What does Euphemia mean?’

  Effie felt his gaze on her. ‘Trouble, usually,’ he said.

  Mrs Flynn laughed. ‘Oh, you are a card!’

  Effie finished gathering the wash things on to the trolley and stood up.

  ‘Sister will have your guts for garters if she catches you flirting with the patients,’ she hissed to Connor as she walked away.

  No sooner had she said it than Sister Allen appeared at the door to her office.

  ‘Mr Cleary?’ she called out.

  Effie grinned. ‘You see? Now you’re for it!’

  ‘We’ll see about that, won’t we?’ Connor turned to face Sister as she advanced down the ward. Effie waited expectantly.