The Nightingale Sisters

by Donna Douglas

  Dora looked across at her mother. Rose’s face was pale and waxy, like a corpse’s.

  ‘You’d best go,’ she said to Joe quietly.

  ‘And don’t come back!’ Peter growled.

  Joe shot him a belligerent look and for a moment Dora was worried they were going to start fighting. But then he barged out of the back door.

  She followed him outside into the yard. It was a clear night, and the inky sky over Griffin Street was sprinkled with stars. Spring was on its way but the biting winter weather had yet to loosen its grip. Dora hugged herself, shivering.

  Joe turned to face her. A patch of light spilled from the kitchen window, illuminating his face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have realised when I heard the name . . . but I just didn’t think.’

  ‘How did you find out it was him?’ Dora asked.

  ‘Jennie told me in the end. I suppose she thought it wouldn’t matter as he wasn’t around any more.’

  ‘And you say he was a friend of your father?’

  ‘He was a drinking pal of his.’ Joe’s face was grim. ‘Used to come round to ours to play cards sometimes. I remember him myself. Big bloke, always laughing and joking around. Had plenty to say for himself.’

  ‘That sounds like Alf,’ Dora said.

  ‘I’d have had plenty to say to him, too, if I’d known he was messing about with my sister!’ A muscle flickered in Joe’s jaw. ‘Jesus, when I think about a man of his age . . . what kind of an animal would take advantage of a girl young enough to be his daughter?’

  Dora closed her eyes, shutting out the memory that reared up in her mind. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘He promised her the world, from what I can make out. Told her he was going to marry her, give her a nice home of her own. Poor kid, he must have seemed like a bloody knight in shining armour!’ He pressed his fists to his temples, as if he could force back his rage. ‘If only I’d been there, if only I’d taken better care of her, she would never have looked at someone like him . . .’

  ‘Shh, you mustn’t blame yourself.’ Dora reached up and laid her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. Gradually she felt his iron-hard muscles relax under her fingers.

  He sighed. ‘Look, I know your mum’s upset, but I’ve got to think about our Jennie. That bastard left her in a bad way and I want him to pay for it.’

  ‘I know,’ Dora sighed. ‘And believe me, if I knew where he was I’d tell you.’

  ‘Would you? Even though he’s your stepfather?’

  ‘Put it this way. There’s no love lost between us,’ she said.

  She caught his searching look and dropped her gaze. ‘I promise I’ll tell you if we hear anything,’ she said.

  After Joe had gone, she went back inside the house to find Nanna and her mother in the middle of a heated argument. Josie had come back downstairs and was sitting on the rug by the fire, hugging her knees and staring unhappily into the flames while the argument raged around her.

  ‘But you heard what he said, Rosie—’

  ‘I don’t care what he said. My Alf would never do something like that.’ She turned on Dora as she closed the back door, angry and defiant. ‘I don’t want him anywhere near this house again, all right? I won’t have him in here, spreading his lies.’

  ‘We don’t know if they are lies, Mum—’

  ‘Not you, too!’ Her mother’s brown eyes flared. ‘What’s the matter with you all? Have you forgotten what a kind, loving man your dad was?’ None of them answered. ‘Look, I know my Alf better than anyone,’ she insisted. ‘And I’m telling you, he didn’t touch that girl. I don’t care what lies she tells, I know he’d never do that to his family.’

  Dora and Josie glanced at each other, but neither of them said anything. They knew only too well what Alf Doyle could do to his family.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  OLIVER COULD HARDLY believe his eyes when Violet showed him their new home for the first time. He ran from room to room, looking out of all the windows.

  ‘Look, a park!’ He pointed out of his bedroom window to the lawns that lay beyond the sisters’ block.

  ‘It’s not a park, darling. It’s a garden.’

  ‘Is it ours? Can I play there?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘It’s much nicer than our old house, isn’t it, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, darling. It’s perfect.’ Violet looked around the room, so fresh and light, the spring sunshine streaming through the snowy white net curtains. It was almost too perfect.

  She watched Oliver bouncing on his bed, his little face lit up with ecstasy, and wished she could feel the same joy. But her heart was filled with apprehension. She had been so lucky, first that Oliver had made such a complete and speedy recovery, and second that Miss Fox had offered them such a wonderful place to live, that she didn’t quite trust it. Violet was so used to ill fortune, to going from one crisis to another, that she couldn’t allow herself to relax.

  It was in her nature to look for problems, and she hadn’t had to look far. Although some of the sisters had welcomed her and Oliver, others had not been so happy about it. The Assistant Matron Miss Hanley had been the first to take her aside and make her feelings clear.

  ‘A hospital is not a proper place for children,’ she had warned Violet sternly. ‘They cause far too much disruption.’

  ‘Oliver won’t cause any disruption. I’ll make sure of that,’ Violet had assured her. ‘He is a very well-behaved child.’

  ‘Yes, but he is still a child,’ Miss Hanley insisted. ‘And it is your responsibility to provide a home for him, not ours. I hope you don’t intend for him to take his meals in the dining room?’

  ‘Of course not. There is a kitchen in the flat. I will cook for him there.’

  Miss Hanley’s nostrils flared, as if this was the most outrageous idea she had ever heard.

  ‘I do hope this means you won’t neglect your duties?’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be there to remind me if I do.’ Violet forced herself to smile tightly back at her.

  Not surprisingly, Sister Wren was also against the idea. ‘I always knew she was hiding something,’ Violet overheard her telling Sister Holmes, shortly after they’d moved in. ‘Fancy lying about having a child! If she can do that, it makes you wonder what else she can lie about. Nurses who live out always have something to hide, in my opinion.’

  ‘I live out,’ Sister Holmes reminded her with some asperity. ‘I have to live at home to look after my elderly mother. Or do you think perhaps I’m leading some kind of exciting life, too?’

  Sister Wren didn’t reply, but Violet was sure she wouldn’t stay silent on the matter for long.

  ‘Take no notice of her,’ Sister Blake had advised Violet. ‘She’s just piqued because Matron has given you her flat. She’s obsessed with who has the best room in this hospital, and now you’ve beaten her hands down.’

  ‘I didn’t realise it was a competition,’ Violet had said.

  Sister Blake sent her a wise smile. ‘Everything is a competition to Sister Wren.’

  Violet was making some sandwiches for Oliver’s lunch when Miss Fox arrived.

  ‘Hello?’ She tapped gently and then put her head around the door. ‘Do you mind if I come in?’

  ‘Of course not, Matron.’ Violet hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands, as instantly flustered as a student on a ward round.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt. I won’t make a habit of it, I assure you. I just wanted to make sure this young man is settling in all right?’

  She smiled at Oliver, who came hurtling out of his bedroom, a toy aeroplane in his hands. He braked sharply at the sight of Matron standing in the hallway, formidable in her stiff black uniform.

  His gaze travelled up the length of her body to rest on her elaborate white headdress. His dark eyes grew round with astonishment.

  ‘Mummy,’ he whispered loudly, his gaze still fixed on Matron, ‘why does that lady have a bird on her head
?’

  Violet caught Miss Fox’s eye and felt herself reddening. ‘Matron, I’m so sorry—’ she started to say. But Miss Fox just laughed and waved her apology aside.

  ‘I suppose it does look rather absurd to a child, doesn’t it?’ Leaning down to Oliver, she replied, ‘It’s supposed to make me look important, young man. It’s also there so that nurses can see me coming from a long way off and stop whatever naughty things they happen to be doing before I get there. And doctors too, sometimes,’ she added.

  ‘My daddy was a doctor,’ Oliver announced, swooping his aeroplane through the air.

  ‘Was he?’ Miss Fox raised her eyebrows at Violet.

  Oliver nodded. ‘He saved lives, but then he died. Can I go and play in the garden, Mummy?’

  Violet shot a nervous glance at Miss Fox. ‘I don’t know, Oliver. I don’t want to you to be in the way—’

  ‘Nonsense, the fresh air will do him good,’ Miss Fox cut in briskly. ‘He’s been cooped up in a hospital bed for so long, he’s bound to want to run about in the sunshine.’

  ‘If you’re sure, Matron?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’ Miss Fox beamed at Oliver. ‘You go and have fun, young man. You deserve it.’

  ‘But stay where I can see you,’ Violet called after him, as he let himself out of the door. ‘And don’t touch anything, or get in anyone’s way. And don’t talk to anyone—’ she added. But Oliver was already off, running across the grass as fast as his legs would carry him.

  ‘He’s looking a great deal better than he was the first time I saw him,’ Miss Fox observed.

  ‘Yes, he is.’ Violet could hardly bear to think of that grim night when she’d been so sure she was going to lose him.

  ‘And so are you.’ Miss Fox turned to her. ‘I trust the accommodation is to your liking?’

  ‘Very much, Matron.’

  ‘A little better than your last place, anyway.’

  Violet thought about the dank, dark tenement, with its stale cooking smells and Mrs Bainbridge’s scrawny cats screeching in the yard. Just remembering it made her shudder. How had she put up with it for so long?

  ‘Yes, indeed. Thank you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no trouble.’ Miss Fox shrugged. ‘As I said to you, this place was far too large for one person anyway.’

  ‘I didn’t mean for the flat. I meant for giving me a second chance.’

  ‘You’re a good nurse,’ Miss Fox said. ‘I didn’t want to lose you.’

  She turned her gaze towards the window. ‘Your son appears to be settling in and making friends already, I see.’

  Violet ran to the window and yanked back the curtain. Over on the far side of the garden, Oliver was watching Sister Sutton planting nasturtiums.

  ‘I told him not to be a nuisance—’ She started for the door, but Miss Fox stopped her.

  ‘Leave him, he isn’t doing any harm. Look.’ She pointed.

  As Violet watched them, she saw Sister Sutton’s dog Sparky roll over obligingly to have his tummy scratched, while the Home Sister looked on approvingly.

  ‘He’s done well to win over such a difficult, ill-tempered creature,’ Matron observed.

  ‘Yes,’ Violet agreed. ‘I have heard Sister Sutton’s dog can be rather disagreeable.’

  Miss Fox gave her a sideways smile. ‘I wasn’t referring to the dog,’ she said.

  A moment later, Oliver came flying through the door, Sparky at his heels.

  ‘Miss Sutton has asked me to have a picnic with her,’ he announced breathlessly while Sparky yapped in unison. ‘We’re having pork pie.’

  ‘But I’ve made sandwiches—’ Once again Violet found herself addressing the empty air as Oliver dashed out, leaving the door swinging behind him.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Miss Fox said. ‘It looks as if you’ve lost your lunch companion.’

  ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Violet hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I don’t suppose you’d care for a sandwich, Matron?’

  The moment she’d said it she worried she might have offended her. She might be approachable, but she was still Matron. But Miss Fox just smiled.

  ‘That sounds like a delightful idea,’ she said.

  It felt odd to be sitting there together in what used to be Matron’s sitting room, chatting away like old friends. Miss Fox was so easy to talk to, Violet decided. Perhaps a little too easy – she had to keep checking herself before she opened her mouth, just to make sure she wasn’t giving too much away.

  Miss Fox didn’t give away too much, either. Somehow she managed to tread a fine line between warmth and decorum. She made Violet feel as if she was a good friend, while still commanding her respect.

  ‘Well, that was delicious.’ Miss Fox dabbed her mouth delicately with her napkin. ‘But I really mustn’t keep you any longer, Mrs Tanner. I have a meeting with the Board of Trustees about their forthcoming tour of the hospital.’

  She rose to her feet. ‘I’m glad you’re settling in. I want you to feel that this is your home.’

  ‘Thank you, Matron.’

  But Violet felt nothing but guilt as she closed the door on Miss Fox. She liked her, and knew Matron had gone out on a limb to help them. Violet really wished she could have been honest with her, and told her everything. Perhaps she would have understood? Perhaps she might even have tried to help them further?

  Or perhaps she would have turned them away and told Violet never to darken the hospital’s door again, she thought bleakly.

  No, she couldn’t tell anyone her story, no matter how good a friend they seemed to be. Because to put her trust in anyone would be to put herself and Oliver in grave danger.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  IT WAS THE day of the Trustees’ visit, and Sister Hyde was even more exacting than usual.

  Straight after breakfast the nurses were set to work, pulling all the beds out into the middle of the ward, scattering tea leaves to settle the dust then sweeping them up. Floors were polished, bedsprings were dusted, lockers scrubbed inside and out, and the fluted-glass lampshades above every bed were taken down and washed.

  The patients didn’t escape, either. Those who could get out of bed were hauled off to the bathroom, while the rest were washed, powdered and put into fresh nightgowns. The air was filled with the smell of carbolic and freshly starched laundry.

  Of course, there was no chance of anyone being allowed to take a break, much to Millie’s frustration. It was Seb’s birthday and she was desperate to telephone him to make up for not being with him.

  Even then, Sister Hyde wasn’t completely satisfied. She prowled the ward, running her fingers along bedrails and windowsills, her face rigid with disapproval.

  ‘Look at her,’ Maud Mortimer remarked, as Millie brushed her hair. ‘Anyone would think we were getting a visit from royalty.’

  Millie smiled. ‘The Trustees are royalty, so far as this hospital is concerned.’

  ‘I should imagine they are the same as any other committee – a collection of jumped up accountants, civil servants and busybodies, consumed by their own self-importance.’

  Millie thought of Mrs Tremayne. ‘You could well be right.’

  ‘I am always right.’ Maud peered over her spectacles at the newspaper in her lap. ‘Seven across. “Press down”. Second letter “e”.’

  ‘Decrease,’ Millie replied without hesitation.

  Maud glanced sideways at her. Millie tried to remain expressionless as Maud carefully double-checked it, counting the letters. ‘You may be right,’ she conceded with a sniff.

  ‘I am always right,’ Millie said.

  ‘Please don’t be clever with me, child.’ Maud shoved the newspaper towards her with the back of her hand. ‘You may fill it in.’

  ‘Best not let Sister see me doing this,’ Millie said, picking up the pencil. ‘She’ll send me off to clean the toilets again.’

  ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

  Millie dropped the pencil, swung round and found herself face to face with W
illiam Tremayne.

  It had been so long since she’d seen him, the shock made her heart hammer against her ribs as if it was trying to fight its way out of her chest.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said.

  ‘He’s a doctor, you stupid girl. I would have thought this was the obvious place for him.’ Maud looked William up and down. ‘At least, I assume he is a doctor. He seems awfully young.’ She peered at him closely. ‘Where is Mr Forrest? Or that other one . . . the unfortunate-looking man with the squint?’

  ‘Mr Forrest is in theatre, and Dr Pascoe is unwell today.’ William tried not to smile. ‘My name is Dr Tremayne, and I’m the house officer on call. I understand you asked to see me?’

  ‘A house officer?’ Maud looked doubtful. ‘Well, I suppose you’ll have to do.’ She fumbled to take off her spectacles with her limp hands. ‘I need some sleeping pills.’

  ‘Why?’

  Maud gave Millie a long-suffering look. ‘Really, is everyone in the hospital half-witted? Because I want to sleep, young man.’

  William took the notes Millie handed to him. ‘Are you in any pain?’

  ‘Pain?’ Maud regarded him incredulously. ‘If you take a moment to read those notes, Doctor, you will realise that pain is the least of my worries. In fact, any sensation at all in my useless limbs would be very welcome indeed.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t sleep because of all the constant hullabaloo that goes on in this ward. Listen to it.’

  She paused for a moment. Millie listened too; she had become so used to the low moaning and whimpering that went on in the ward, she had ceased to notice it any more. ‘It’s far worse at night,’ Maud continued. ‘It’s like trying to sleep in a cage full of mad owls. If you won’t give me anything to help me sleep, then for God’s sake, give it to them.’

  William’s dark eyes crinkled at Millie over the top of the notes. ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mrs Mortimer.’ He flicked through the notes. ‘I see you’ve had electrical and massage therapy?’