The Nightingale Nurses

by Donna Douglas

  As Millie mopped her face on her towel, Dora struggled to keep control of her own emotions. The last thing poor Helen needed were long faces all around her.

  ‘Is there anything we can do for you?’ she asked.

  ‘You can be my bridesmaids. You can walk down that aisle with me and smile and make this a day for Charlie and me to remember.’

  Millie sniffed back her tears. ‘We’ll do that. Won’t we, Doyle?’

  ‘And you can start by helping me to find something to wear. You know you’re far better at choosing clothes than I am.’

  Millie’s face brightened. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll find you the best dress in the world.’

  ‘You’d best hurry, you’ve only got three days to do it in!’

  Dora braced herself. ‘Is there anything else we can do?’

  Helen smiled. ‘Just be my friends.’ She smiled then. ‘Unless you want to help me break the news to my mother?’

  Millie’s mouth fell open. ‘You mean, you haven’t told her yet?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been putting it off,’ she admitted. ‘I’m going down to Richmond tomorrow. And I don’t think my mother is going to be quite so understanding as Matron!’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ‘NO. I WON’T hear of it.’

  Constance Tremayne kept herself rigidly under control, hands clenched in front of her. She reminded Helen of a tightly wound clock.

  ‘Well, I think it’s marvellous news.’ Her father broke the tense silence. ‘Congratulations, my dear. Charlie is a wonderful young man.’

  ‘It’s a perfectly ridiculous idea,’ Constance snapped. ‘And why do you have to get married so quickly, anyway?’ The colour drained from her face. ‘Oh, dear God. Don’t tell me you’re –’

  ‘No!’ Helen denied quickly. ‘We – just love each other and want to be together, that’s all.’ She kept her eyes averted from her mother, certain she would be able to see straight through her lie.

  ‘And I suppose this was all his idea?’ Constance sniffed. ‘Not content with dragging you down to his level, he now wants to ruin your future. Not to mention robbing you of a decent wedding.’

  ‘It will be a decent wedding,’ Helen defended. She turned to her father.

  ‘Do you think you’ll be able to give me away?’ she asked.

  Her father looked rueful. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that.’

  Her stomach turned over. ‘Really? I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping . . .’

  Timothy Tremayne smiled. ‘I didn’t mean it in that way, Helen, don’t look so worried! It’s just, I rather hoped that you might ask me to conduct the marriage service. I quite understand if you’ve already made arrangements with the hospital chaplain, but ever since you were born I had imagined I might be allowed to marry you, so to speak?’

  Helen grinned. ‘Oh, Father, what a wonderful idea! I hadn’t even thought about that. Would you really do that for us?’

  ‘I would be honoured,’ he said solemnly. ‘And I’m sure your brother would be more than happy to take my place in giving you away.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! Doesn’t anyone care how I feel about this . . . this farce?’

  They both jumped as Constance stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. They heard the staccato rap of her footsteps heading down the hall.

  Timothy looked at his daughter. ‘I rather think we can guess, don’t you?’ he said dryly.

  ‘I’d better go to her.’ Helen stood up, but her father put out a hand to stop her.

  ‘No, leave your mother for a moment,’ he advised. ‘Let’s have a glass of sherry to celebrate your good news.’

  Helen sipped her drink nervously. Her father was chatting to her about the ceremony, but she could hardly take in what he was saying. Her eyes were fixed nervously on the door. She was expecting her mother to come bursting back in at any moment.

  Finally, Helen could stand it no longer. ‘I had better go and see how Mother is,’ she said, putting down her glass.

  ‘Very well, my dear. But don’t let her upset you,’ her father advised. ‘I’m sure she’ll come round to the idea eventually. She just needs some time to adjust, that’s all.’ He frowned. ‘Ignore her if she becomes too petulant, won’t you?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will!’

  She found her mother pacing up and down in the kitchen, her arms folded tightly. As Helen crept in Constance turned on her, her face twisted with anger.

  ‘How could you?’ Cords of rage stood out on her thin neck. ‘You stupid, stupid girl, how could you do such a thing after everything I’ve done for you? You do realise this is the end, don’t you? There’ll be no exams, no qualifications after this. You’ve thrown your whole career away, your whole future. You’ll have to leave the hospital.’

  Helen pressed her lips together to stop herself speaking. Apart from Millie, Dora and Matron, no one knew the real reason she was getting married so quickly, and she wanted to keep it that way. She couldn’t stand the thought of all those long faces at her wedding.

  ‘I won’t,’ Helen told her calmly. ‘I’ve talked to Matron about it, and she’s agreed that I can stay on until after the State Finals.’

  ‘Oh, she’s agreed, has she?’ Constance’s voice dripped pure acid. ‘So you’ve spoken to Matron before you even consulted me?’

  ‘I thought it would be for the best,’ Helen faltered.

  ‘For the best?’ Constance gave a bitter laugh. ‘If you were acting for the best you wouldn’t be anywhere near that dreadful young man. I should have packed you off to Scotland while I had the chance,’ she muttered to herself.

  She started pacing again, and Helen braced herself for more rage and spite. She didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘And what about after your State Finals?’ Constance spat out. ‘Have you thought about what happens then? No, of course you haven’t. You simply don’t care, do you? You don’t care that you’re throwing away your future.’

  ‘Charlie is my future,’ Helen replied quietly, staying calm in the face of her mother’s spitting rage.

  ‘Your future!’ Constance’s face twisted. ‘You stupid girl, you don’t realise, do you? You don’t have a future after you marry him. That will be the end of it all, the end of all your hopes and dreams, everything I’ve worked for . . .’

  She closed her mouth like a trap, snapping back the words, but Helen caught them.

  ‘Everything you’ve worked for?’ she echoed. ‘That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? It isn’t my future you’re worried about. You don’t care about what I want. All you’re interested in is how it reflects on you. Well, I’m sorry, Mother, but I’m not a pet dog you can teach to do tricks to impress people. This is my life and I’ll do what I want.’

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told!’ Constance picked up a plate off the dresser and smashed it.

  Helen stared at her. She had never seen her in such a rage. Her mother had lost all control.

  ‘No, Mother, not any more,’ Helen said calmly.

  The door opened and her father burst in. ‘What was that noise? I heard a crash . . .’ He looked down at the china plate, shattered into fragments over the kitchen floor. ‘What on earth has happened?’

  ‘It was an accident,’ Helen covered smoothly. ‘Mother was picking it up, and it slipped out of her grasp. Isn’t that right, Mother?’

  Constance was silent and white-faced, though whether from rage or remorse Helen had no idea. Then it suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t care. Like a weight lifting from her shoulders, she realised she didn’t have to worry about her mother’s moods any more.

  Helen looked at her watch. ‘I must be going,’ she said. ‘My train leaves in half an hour.’

  ‘I’ll telephone for a taxi,’ her father offered.

  Helen turned to her mother. ‘The wedding is in two days, Mother,’ she said. ‘I hope you can come and see me get married?’

  ‘I’d die first!’ Constance
snapped, her lips white with tension.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way about it.’ Helen took a deep, steadying breath. ‘But you’re not going to ruin my day for me. Charlie and I are getting married, whether you like it or not.’

  After they’d served the evening cocoa that night, Helen and the pro did a last check on the patients, turning anyone who needed it, rubbing in liniments, applying poultices, plumping pillows and straightening bedclothes before they settled everyone down for the night. Then, while the pro carried all the vases of flowers out to the sluice, Helen sat down at the sister’s desk, opened up the heavy leather ledger and started to make that night’s ward report by the dim glow of the green-shaded light.

  Within an hour, the muted chorus of wheezing and snoring told her that all the patients were sleeping soundly. She left the pro watching over them while she went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

  ‘I’ll have one of those, if you’re making it?’

  She turned around, the kettle still in her hand, and was shocked to see Amy Hollins standing in the doorway.

  Helen reached up into the cupboard and took out another cup. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  Amy lifted her shoulders listlessly. ‘I was bored.’

  ‘Not seeing your boyfriend tonight?’

  Amy looked up at her sharply. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘No reason. Only I heard that you meet up with him sometimes, after all the patients are asleep?’

  ‘Oh, you heard that, did you? I suppose that sneaky little pro’s been telling tales, has she?’ Amy’s face was full of spite, but for once Helen refused to be cowed.

  ‘I didn’t realise it was such a big secret.’

  To Helen’s utter shock, Amy’s mood of anger left her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘Take no notice of me, I’m just feeling fed-up tonight. I wanted some company.’

  You must be desperate to seek me out, Helen thought. She stood at the stove and stared at the kettle, willing it to boil. The silence stretched between them.

  It was Amy who finally spoke. ‘I bet you’re excited about the wedding?’

  Helen smiled. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

  ‘Do you realise, you’ll be the only married nurse in this hospital – maybe the whole of London. Or the whole country!’

  ‘I never thought of that. I suppose I will, won’t I?’ Helen reflected as she lifted the heavy kettle off the hob and filled the teapot.

  ‘Do you think there’ll ever be a time when all nurses are allowed to get married?’ Amy mused.

  ‘I’m not sure many of them will want to.’

  ‘Would you? I mean, if things had been different, would you want to go on working as a married woman?’

  Helen considered it for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It does seem a shame to let all that training go to waste, I suppose.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Amy declared firmly. ‘I’d tell Matron where to stick her rules and regulations, not to mention her bloody uncomfortable shoes, like a shot!’ She looked at Helen consideringly. ‘But I suppose it’s different for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, you’re born to it, aren’t you? It’s in your blood.’

  ‘Is it?’ Helen said. ‘Actually, I always wanted to be a teacher.’

  ‘Really?’ Amy stared at her. ‘Then why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because my mother wouldn’t allow it.’

  Helen could feel Amy’s eyes on her as she filled the cups.

  ‘You mean, your mother forced you to become a nurse?’

  ‘That’s about it, yes.’ Helen glanced over her shoulder. ‘Do you take sugar?’

  ‘No, thanks. So does your mother often tell you what to do?’

  Helen laughed. ‘What do you think? Believe me, she treats me no differently from the way she treats everyone else. If anything, she’s even worse with me.’

  ‘I had no idea.’ Amy’s face was pensive as Helen handed her the cup.

  They sat down at the table in the middle of the ward. The dim light cast long shadows across their faces.

  ‘What are you wearing for the wedding?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Helen admitted. ‘I think Benedict has something in mind. She usually comes to our rescue with the right clothes.’

  Amy looked aghast. ‘You mean, you don’t have a proper wedding dress?’

  ‘I haven’t had time to buy one,’ Helen sighed.

  Amy sipped her tea, looking thoughtful. ‘I could do your hair for you?’ she offered.

  Helen blinked in surprise. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘And make-up. You’ll need make-up.’

  ‘I daresay I will, if only to hide the bags under my eyes!’ Helen grimaced.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’ll make a beautiful bride.’

  Helen stared at her. Was this really the same girl who had made life a misery for her over the past three years?

  As if she knew what Helen was thinking, Amy murmured, ‘Look, I know we haven’t always hit it off, but I want you to know I wish you well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Actually, I envy you,’ Amy sighed.

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘Because you’re marrying the man you love.’

  Helen smiled at her over the rim of her cup. ‘I’m sure it will happen for you one day.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Amy’s voice was suddenly cold.

  ‘Why not? Don’t you think your boyfriend is the marrying kind?’

  ‘It’s not that . . .’ Amy bit her lip. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She drained her cup, her cheerful smile suddenly back in place. ‘Thanks for the tea. I’d better go back to the ward. My pro is so dozy she probably wouldn’t think to warn me if the Night Sister’s on her way!’

  She put her cup in the sink. ‘Toodlepip, anyway. Perhaps you could come to my ward tomorrow night for tea? Then we can plan what to do with your hair.’

  ‘Thank you, I’d like that.’

  Helen watched her saunter off. In spite of her bright smile, she couldn’t help feeling there was something very sad about Amy Hollins.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ‘I DEMAND YOU put a stop to this nonsense immediately!’

  Kathleen Fox gazed calmly across the desk at the twitching ball of suppressed fury that was Constance Tremayne. They had had many such meetings in the two years she had been Matron of the Nightingale Hospital. In fact, she could barely remember a week when she didn’t have Mrs Tremayne storming into her office demanding she either do something or desist from doing something else.

  ‘And what particular nonsense are you referring to this time, Mrs Tremayne?’ Matron smiled patiently.

  Constance reared back in her seat, nostrils flaring like a startled thoroughbred. She was dressed for battle as usual, her tightly buttoned tweed suit perfectly reflecting her uncompromising character. ‘I mean, Miss Fox, this utterly preposterous notion of my daughter getting married,’ she bit out.

  ‘I hardly think that’s any of my business, do you?’

  ‘It is if the marriage takes place in this hospital!’ Constance’s eyes blazed. ‘You must forbid it.’

  ‘On what grounds? I’ll admit it is rather unusual, but it is not unheard of. Indeed, I understand that several marriages have taken place in the hospital chapel . . .’

  ‘That’s not the point, is it?’ Constance Tremayne snapped. ‘I’m not bothered about where the wedding is taking place, it’s the fact that it is taking place at all!’ Her thin mouth quivered. ‘Really, Matron, I am surprised that you would so willingly allow a promising student like my daughter to slip through your fingers. Helen could have been an asset to the Nightingale. But you are allowing her to throw her future away.’

  ‘Yes, but under the circumstances—’

  ‘What circumstances? What possible excuse could there be for me to allow my daughter to make a mistake that will stay with her for the rest of her life?’r />
  You don’t know, Kathleen realised. For whatever reason, Helen Tremayne had not seen fit to tell her mother how grave Charlie Dawson’s illness was.

  ‘Your daughter is over twenty-one, Mrs Tremayne. Neither you nor I has any right to forbid this marriage,’ Kathleen reminded her. Not that she would have forbidden it in any case. She had never seen a girl as happy and in love as Helen Tremayne.

  She looked across at Constance’s pinched face and tried to feel some understanding for the woman. They had had more than their fair share of confrontations, but underneath her busybody exterior there was a worried mother.

  ‘Helen is not throwing away her future, Mrs Tremayne,’ Kathleen said, more gently. ‘I have already given her permission to stay on as a student here until after her State Finals.’

  ‘And after that?’ Mrs Tremayne snapped.

  Kathleen stared down at the blotter in front of her. ‘I think we should worry about that when the time comes,’ she said gently.

  Constance fumed. ‘I might have known! It was thanks to your lacksadaisical approach that this – unfortunate liaison was allowed to happen in the first place. You should keep a tighter rein on your nurses, Matron, and then such improper conduct wouldn’t occur.’

  Kathleen forced herself to stay calm, but Mrs Tremayne had a way of getting under her skin. ‘I can see nothing improper about two young people wanting to be married in the eyes of God, can you?’ she said. ‘On the contrary, I think it’s wonderful that they are making such a commitment to each other.’

  ‘Wonderful? You think it’s wonderful, do you?’ Constance stared at her, her skin tightly drawn across the bones of her face. Her gloved hands gripped the clasp of her crocodile-skin handbag. Kathleen had no doubt Mrs Tremayne would have fixed them around her neck, if good manners hadn’t forbidden it. ‘I might have known you would take such a sentimental view. I daresay that’s why so many of the nurses here wander about with their heads in the clouds, instead of concentrating on their work!’ She glared across the desk. ‘I take it that’s your last word on the subject?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s much more to say, do you?’