‘Me, too,’ Violet sighed. There had been fresh air there, and a big garden for Oliver to play in. And old Mr Mannion, poorly as he was, had loved to watch him from the French windows. He said Oliver brought a breath of life into the old, decaying house. His own children had grown up and moved away long ago, and never visited him. In fact, they seldom had any visitors. Which was why Violet had felt so safe there.
But then Mr Mannion had died, and his sons and daughters had finally remembered they had a father. They had descended on the house, picking over Mr Mannion’s belongings like crows on carrion. The house had been sold, and Violet had been sent away.
But coming to London had been a mistake, she thought. She had imagined she could get lost in the big city, that she could make a new life for herself and her son without arousing anyone’s curiosity. But she had been wrong.
She arrived at the Nightingale and headed straight for the Porters’ Lodge. Mr Hopkins the head porter greeted her at the door. He was a fussy little man, with a bristling moustache and a military bearing enhanced by his polished shoes and well-pressed brown overall. A stickler for protocol, he wore a black crepe armband out of respect for the King.
‘They’re all waiting for you round the back, Miss,’ he said in his lilting Welsh accent. ‘Quite a turn-out tonight.’
‘Thank you, Mr Hopkins.’ Violet went around to the back of the Lodge, where the would-be night cleaners clustered together, sheltering from the wind.
Violet looked at the gaggle of hopeful faces all turned towards her. This was her least favourite task of the night. She took a deep breath and chose quickly.
‘It’s not fair, she got picked last night,’ one of the women protested as Violet ushered the lucky few away.
Violet steeled herself. There was always someone who wasn’t happy.
‘Come back tomorrow night,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘And what am I going to tell my husband when I go home empty-handed? He’s going to kill me if I don’t bring some money in tonight.’
Violet heard the pleading note in the woman’s voice but walked on.
‘That’s right, walk away from me. It’s all right for you, you snotty cow!’ the woman called after her. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to have an old man at home who batters you black and blue, do you?’
Violet set the night cleaners about their duties then crossed the courtyard to her small sitting room on the night corridor and changed into her uniform. She could almost feel herself becoming a different person as she fastened the starched cuffs on her grey dress and tied the long strings of her cap under her chin. For a few hours, she could cast off the cares and troubles of Violet Tanner to become the Night Sister.
But the Night Sister had woes of her own to deal with, she realised, as she met Sister Wren on the sisters’ corridor.
Violet’s heart sank when she saw her approaching with Sister Blake from the other end of the passageway, a tight-lipped expression on her face. She was clearly on the warpath about something.
‘I want a word with you.’ She bore down on Violet, her small face full of spite and fury. ‘What do you mean by undermining me?’
Sister Blake looked dismayed. ‘Really, Sister Wren—’
‘Undermining you? I don’t know what you mean,’ Violet replied calmly.
‘Don’t be obtuse! I asked you to supervise the punishment of one of my students, but you refused.’
‘Perhaps you should discuss this in private?’ Sister Blake suggested tactfully.
‘Mind your own business!’ Sister Wren turned on her.
Violet Tanner straightened her shoulders. ‘Yes, I did refuse to supervise the punishment,’ she said.
‘May I ask why?’
‘I thought it was spiteful and pointless.’
Sister Wren’s dishwater-grey eyes blazed. ‘Spiteful . . . pointless?’
Violet nodded. ‘As far as I could see, it served no useful purpose.’
‘It was a punishment!’
‘If you were out to punish the girl, then surely sending her to Matron would have been just as effective? There was no need to subject her to humiliation. Unless that was your aim, to bully and humiliate her?’
Cords of rage stood out on Sister Wren’s scrawny neck.
‘How dare you!’ She choked on her words. ‘You have no right to speak to me like that. You’re only the Night Sister!’
Violet stared down at Sister Wren. Her little fists were balled at her sides, her face contorted with rage. She was so small and so furious, she reminded Violet of Oliver stamping his feet in the middle of a tantrum.
Suddenly she saw the woman on the doorstep earlier on, looking at her as if she was something on her shoe. Then she saw Mrs Bainbridge, casually helping herself to Violet’s belongings, knowing she was trapped and couldn’t fight back.
She might have to accept the way they treated her. But she didn’t have to accept it from Sister Wren.
‘May I remind you, Sister Wren, that I am still a Sister at this hospital, and not one of your students to be ordered about?’
‘Now, you listen to me—’
‘No, you listen.’ The quivering anger in Violet’s voice was enough to silence Sister Wren. She stood there, her mouth a tight line of seething indignation. ‘I am happy to carry out your instructions when it comes to the welfare of your patients. But in future, if you wish to inflict a cold bath on someone at the crack of dawn, then you will have to do your own dirty work. Is that clear?’
There was a brief silence. ‘Have you quite finished?’ Sister Wren spat out.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘In that case, we will hear what Matron has to say about this!’
Sister Wren stalked off, her spine rigid with resentment.
Sister Blake watched her go. ‘Good for you,’ she said to Violet. ‘It’s about time someone told her what she can do with her wretched cold bath punishment. We’ve all been trying to tell her for years, but she wouldn’t listen. Looks like you might have got through to her at last!’
Violet didn’t reply. Her eyes were still fixed on Sister Wren.
‘Don’t worry, you won’t get into any trouble,’ Sister Blake said. ‘If I know Matron, she’ll agree with you.’
It’s not Matron I’m worried about, Violet thought. The last thing she wanted was to make an enemy at the Nightingale.
And she had the feeling Sister Wren could be a very vindictive enemy indeed.
Chapter Thirteen
RUBY STOOD IN front of the mirror, frowning at her appearance. Most girls would have been pleased with what they saw, but she noticed only faults. The calluses on her fingers from machining ten hours a day, her skirt straining over her too-plump hips. Even her blonde curls, despite all her efforts with the tongs, hung limply around her face.
She cursed her reflection. Why did her mum have to go and say that about Nick? She hadn’t been able to look at herself since without her confidence sinking.
Because in spite of what she’d told her mother, Ruby was worried.
It was the little things that troubled her. She had to hold Nick’s hand when they walked down the street, he never reached for hers. Sometimes when she was talking to him, prattling on about the new film she wanted to see at the Rialto or what that bitch Esther Gold had said to her at the factory, she would sense his thoughts were elsewhere.
And he had never, ever told her he loved her.
It was a strange sensation for her. No young man had ever lost interest in Ruby Pike. It was always the other way round. Now she knew how the boys felt when she turned cool with them, stopped smiling at their jokes and stiffened when they tried to put their arms around her. It wasn’t a nice feeling.
She didn’t want it to happen with Nick Riley. Everyone in Griffin Street knew they were courting; Ruby wasn’t sure she would ever be able to hold her head up again if she let him get away from her.
But it was more than just hurt pride. She had started to have feelings for him
. True, real feelings, not just the fluttering in her belly she usually got when she looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.
He was deep, as her mother would say. He didn’t give his feelings away, didn’t show off or try to impress her like some of the other boys she’d been out with. He didn’t flash his cash around, act the fool to make her laugh, or pick fights with other blokes to prove how manly he was, either.
Nick didn’t need to prove anything. Ruby felt a surge of pride when she walked down the street on his arm. He was so handsome, she could feel all the other girls watching her enviously. And he was so big and powerful, she felt protected too. Nothing and no one could hurt her when Nick Riley was around. Even her dad treated him with wary respect.
She knew she would never find anyone else like him. She had to keep him, it was as simple as that. And as far as Ruby knew, there was only one way to make sure of it.
She didn’t doubt it would work. It was what all men wanted, wasn’t it? She’d tussled with enough of them in the back row of the pictures to know that. And deep as he might be, Nick Riley was just a red-blooded man like all the rest.
Not that he’d ever tried it on, or anything like that. They’d done plenty of kissing and cuddling, but unlike the other boys Nick never tried to push it further. Ruby liked to tell herself it was because he respected her too much. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that he just wasn’t interested.
She twiddled nervously with a curl, teasing it into place. In spite of what people might have thought from the way she looked and acted, she had never gone all the way before. Her mother had cautioned her not to give it away, to make sure she had a ring on her finger first. But it hadn’t done her much good, had it? All that waiting, and she’d still ended up married to a lazy loser. Ruby didn’t plan to end up like her mother, not in a million years.
No, the good Lord had given her looks that drove men wild, and she meant to use them.
She had been thinking about it for days, and now she had her chance. Her dad was at work, and her mum was taking her brothers to see the King lying in state in Westminster. Nick’s mother June was going too, and for once she was taking his brother Danny with her. They would have the whole house to themselves.
Not that Nick seemed excited at the prospect. He was more concerned about his brother.
‘You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you?’ he warned his mother for the hundredth time as he followed her and Danny into the backyard.
‘’Course I will. I’m his mother, ain’t I? You don’t think I know how to look after my own bleeding son?’
June Riley rolled her eyes at Ruby. She grinned back, but she understood why Nick was worried. She had already caught a whiff of gin on June’s breath and seen the way her hands shook. The state she was in, they’d probably both end up under a tram. If they even made it up West – June had to pass a good few pubs on their way to the bus stop.
She watched Nick fastening the woollen scarf around his brother’s neck, tucking it inside his jacket to keep out the cold. Danny gave her the creeps, with his vacant eyes and slack, drooling lips, but Nick never showed such tenderness to anyone as he did to his brother.
‘Have a nice time, won’t you, Danny?’ Ruby forced herself to smile warmly at him. Danny gave her one of his scared-rabbit looks, and ducked his head away.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’ Her mother came out of the house, buttoning up her coat, followed by Ruby’s younger brothers, who were scrapping as usual. ‘It’s disrespectful, if you ask me, not to wanting to see the King.’
‘He ain’t going to notice if I’m not there, is he? Besides, I want to stay here with Nick. I promised to give him his tea.’
Her mother glanced across at Nick, then back at Ruby. ‘As long as that’s all you give him,’ she warned.
Ruby laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I know what I’m doing.’
Her mother sent her a shrewd look. ‘I hope you do, my girl.’
Half an hour later Ruby stood at the stove, frying bacon with the eggs her mum had just brought home. She was beginning to wish she’d never offered to cook for Nick. She’d already spattered her new frock with fat, and she felt sure her hair smelt of frying.
She glanced over her shoulder at Nick, who was pouring himself a beer. She wasn’t used to seeing him sitting at their kitchen table. He rarely came upstairs to the Pikes’ part of their shared house. Ruby knew he didn’t have much time for the rest of her family – especially not her mum, who never held back with her opinions of the Rileys, or anyone else for that matter. Ruby had tried telling Nick her mum didn’t mean anything by it, but he didn’t seem convinced.
‘I wouldn’t do this for everyone, you know,’ she told him, as she prodded the eggs with a spoon. ‘You should be honoured.’
‘I’ll tell you when I’ve tasted it.’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’ She smiled at him, flashing her dimples, then promptly forgot she was supposed to be charming as she accidentally put the spoon through one of the eggs. ‘Oh, sod it. Now look what I’ve done!’ she cursed, as the yellow yolk oozed out into the sizzling pan.
‘Here, let me.’ Nick came over and took the pan out of her hands. ‘You’re making a right mess of it.’
‘I’m not much of a cook,’ she admitted helplessly, watching him expertly scraping blackened bits of bacon from the edges of the pan. ‘Mum does all the cooking.’
‘You’ll have to learn sometime.’
‘Unless I marry a man who can cook?’ she said hopefully.
‘Or doesn’t mind burnt offerings.’ He glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘Don’t just stand there batting your eyelashes. Make yourself useful and lay the table, will you?’
They sat across the table from each other. Ruby did her best to act sophisticated, playing languidly with her food as she’d seen Bette Davis do in a film once.
‘Why aren’t you eating?’ Nick looked across at her plate, frowning. ‘You’ve been waving that food around for five minutes.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Give it here, then.’
She passed her plate across the table to him. ‘You must be starving, if you can eat my cooking,’ she joked.
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘Is that a compliment?’ She smiled archly at him. ‘Careful, you silver-tongued devil, you’ll sweep me off my feet.’
He didn’t respond, so she slipped off her shoe and reached under the table with her foot, sliding it slowly and suggestively up and down his leg.
Nick stared across at her, his eyes darkening. ‘You’re the one who should be careful,’ he said softly.
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Do you? I wonder.’
After that, much to her frustration, Nick insisted on washing up, even though Ruby did her best to lure him on to the couch.
‘Isn’t it nice to have the house to ourselves?’ she purred. ‘I can’t wait until I have my own place. Then I can shut the door on the rest of the world.’ She loved her family, but the house was too crowded, always full of noise, what with her brothers fighting and her dad shouting and her mum always sniping about the neighbours. She hated sharing a bedroom with Frank and Dennis, having to put up with them nosing in her belongings, helping themselves out of her purse and scrawling all over her Picturegoer with her best lipstick. ‘I really want a place of my own. One of those nice modern flats the Corporation is building, with a bathroom where I can just turn on a tap and soak in a proper tub any time I like, instead of having to drag in the old tin bath from the backyard.’ She looked at Nick. ‘What about you? Don’t you want to get away from here one day?’
Nick scrubbed away at a frying pan, his back turned to her. ‘I’ve got plans,’ he admitted.
‘What kind of plans?’
He laid the pan down on the draining board. ‘I’m going to America,’ he said finally.
Ruby sat up and stared at him over the back of the couch. ‘America? You mean, like Hollywood?
’
‘New York. I’ve read there are doctors over there who might be able to put our Danny right.’
Ruby frowned. Why did it always have to be about Danny? Anyway, surely Nick must know it would take a miracle, not medicine, to get that boy straight.
‘Doctors cost money, don’t they? How are you going to afford it?’ she asked.
‘I’m saving.’
‘On your wages? You can hardly afford the bus fare to Bow, let alone America!’
‘I’ve got my winnings from boxing.’ His chin lifted proudly. ‘And if I do well enough, they might even pay for me to go over there and fight.’
Ruby watched him, impressed. He had plans, ambition. She liked that.
‘I’d love to go to America,’ she sighed. She read avidly about the lives of the Hollywood stars in Picturegoer every week. ‘I want to be like Olivia de Havilland, dressed in the latest fashions and going out to fancy parties every night. That would be the life, wouldn’t it?’
Nick gave her one of his rare smiles. ‘You’d best start saving, then.’
‘Unless you take me?’ she suggested boldly.
‘Now why would I want to do that?’ But he was still smiling, which was a good sign.
He finished washing up and dried his hands on the tea towel. ‘Right, I’d best be off,’ he said.
Ruby jumped to her feet, panicking. ‘Aren’t you going to stay?’
‘I can’t. I’ve got training at the club.’
‘Can’t you give it a miss, just for one night? It’s not every day we get the house to ourselves, is it? I thought we could have a nice night in together. Just the two of us,’ she added meaningfully.
‘I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.’
‘Why not?’ She feigned innocence.
‘You know very well why not.’
Their eyes met, and Ruby felt a jolt of desire that almost turned her legs to liquid.
She sent him a look from under her lashes. ‘What’s wrong, Nick?’ she pouted. ‘Don’t you want me?’
His eyes were dark, almost black. ‘I don’t want to take advantage. It wouldn’t be right,’ he said gruffly.
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