Sister Judd was even worse. It grated across Helen’s nerves every time she talked in her hushed little voice about making Charlie ‘comfortable’. Helen had used that word herself many times, and never realised how stupid and smug it sounded. She didn’t want Charlie made comfortable, she wanted him made better.
Charlie’s mum and dad had accepted that their son was going to die. Helen could see the raw pain in their eyes as they sat at Charlie’s bedside. Even they frustrated her. Why weren’t they fighting for him like she was, willing him on? Giving up on him felt like a betrayal.
‘We talked for such a long time today,’ she would tell them. ‘Even Nurse Strickland said he was looking brighter . . .’ But like William, all they did was look at her with sympathy.
‘At least he’s comfortable, love,’ his mother would pat her hand and say.
If only Nellie had seen him earlier, Helen thought. When she’d visited him that morning – she had given up completely on any pretence of sleep now, and came straight from her night duty to his bedside – he had stayed awake for nearly an hour. She would have stayed at his bedside talking to him, but lunchtime had come and Charlie had insisted she should go to her afternoon lecture.
‘Your Sister Parker will be on the warpath if you don’t,’ he’d warned.
‘I don’t care.’
‘But your exams are important.’
‘You sound like my mother!’
That made him laugh. When she’d left him he was chatting to Millie. Helen had smiled all the way to her class, knowing he had turned a corner. She couldn’t wait to go back to the ward and see him again. She couldn’t wait to see Dr Latimer’s face the next day as he tried to explain to his medical students how he had managed to get a patient’s prognosis so drastically wrong.
Finally the class was over. Helen quickly gathered up her books and hurried out of the dusty classroom into the fresh air. The sharp wind tugged at her cap, almost pulling it from its pins as she hurried across the courtyard.
She caught up with Mr Hopkins, pushing his wheelbarrow away from the teaching block.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Hopkins,’ she greeted him.
‘Afternoon, Nurse.’ Mr Hopkins set down his barrow and pulled off his cap. The elderly Welshman’s sing-song tone was unusually sombre.
‘Has the Evening Standard arrived yet? I want to take a copy up to the ward for Charlie. He likes me to read to him, and I’ve run out of . . .’ She stopped as she saw Millie emerge from the ward block. William was with her. They both seemed to be looking around, searching for something.
As soon as she saw them together, Helen knew. They were looking for her. And she knew why, too.
‘Charlie!’
Millie turned at the sound of her voice and Helen saw her stricken expression. For a second her heart stopped beating in her chest. And then suddenly it was going very fast, as if it would hammer itself out of her throat.
‘Helen, wait!’ She heard William calling her name but she pushed past him and Millie and sprinted through the door to the wards, taking the stairs two at a time. She could hear William and Millie behind her as she ran, her feet pounding along the passageway. The double doors of the Male Medical ward suddenly seemed a long way off, receding from her as she ran towards them. Voices and faces around her were distorted, as if everything was moving in slow motion . . .
William caught her as she reached the doors. His arms folded around her, pinning her, but she struggled against him.
‘Let me go!’ she screamed. ‘I need to see him. I need to see Charlie!’
‘He’s gone, Helen. They’ve taken him away.’
She turned on him blindly. ‘Where? Where have they taken him?’
She saw Millie behind her brother’s shoulder, her head bent, shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
‘I need to see him.’ Helen fought to break free. ‘You’ve made a mistake, Charlie’s getting better, I know he is. Why won’t anyone see that?’
‘Helen, please, don’t do this,’ William pleaded with her, his dark eyes wretched.
‘No! You’ve all given up on him, but I haven’t. I told you, he’s getting stronger every day—’
‘He’s dead, Helen.’
The shock of his words stopped the breath in her throat. She stared into her brother’s face. ‘You shouldn’t have let them take him, not without me. You had no right. Why didn’t you wait for me? Why didn’t he wait . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’ William’s arms cradled her, holding her tightly to him. ‘Oh, Helen, I’m so, so sorry.’
She submitted rigidly to his embrace, her own arms by her sides, refusing to be comforted. She heard William’s voice crooning in her ear, telling her over and over again that he was sorry, and Millie’s muffled sobbing. But still she told herself they’d got it wrong, that there must be a mistake.
Charlie wouldn’t go without her. Not without saying goodbye.
Chapter Forty
KATHLEEN FOX SCARCELY knew what to make of the young woman sitting opposite her.
She had expected Helen Dawson to be a sobbing, trembling ball of grief. It was less than four hours since her husband had died, and Sister Judd had reported how hysterical Helen had been, flinging herself at the doors, her screams echoing around the hospital corridors.
‘That poor, poor girl,’ she had whispered. ‘I’m sorry, Matron, I know we should be used to death after all these years but this has really affected us all. We got to know and like Charlie – Mr Dawson – you see. And as for that poor girl – well, I simply can’t imagine how she must be feeling. I think if she could have died herself at that moment, she would have.’
But the girl who sat before Matron was neither hysterical nor trembling. If anything she was unnaturally composed, smartly turned out in her uniform as usual, not a hairpin out of place. Only the way she kept twisting that ring of silver paper on her finger betrayed her inner agitation.
But it was as if all the life had gone out of her. Her cheeks were pale and sunken and she stared back at Kathleen with dead brown eyes. She wondered if the dose of sedative her brother had given Helen to make her sleep hadn’t yet worn off.
‘Nurse Tre— Nurse Dawson,’ she corrected herself. ‘I hope you do not intend to report for duty this evening?’
Helen glanced down at her pristine uniform. ‘Yes, Matron. Of course.’
‘No one would expect you to work under the circumstances.’
‘Everett will be short staffed if I don’t, Matron. The probationer is already finding it difficult to cope. If there is an emergency admission overnight—’
‘I’m sure the Night Sister can deal with it,’ Kathleen cut in. ‘Really, Nurse, I think it would be far better for you if you went home.’
‘No!’ Helen came to life. The eyes that met Kathleen’s were dark with panic.
‘Just for a few days. You need some rest.’
‘Please don’t send me home, Matron.’
Kathleen raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She didn’t need to be told why Helen didn’t want to go home. The prospect of Constance Tremayne’s tender mercies would be enough to deter anyone.
‘Very well, Nurse. But you must rest. I will talk to Miss Tanner about finding another nurse to cover for you tonight. The new ward allocations are given out tomorrow, so it will be simple enough to take you off the rota.’
‘If you please, Matron, I want to work. I – I want to keep busy.’
Kathleen looked at her steadily. She knew some people believed that ignoring grief was the best way to get through it. But she had always believed differently. She had the worrying feeling that under that unnaturally calm exterior, Helen Dawson was a churning mass of emotion. If she didn’t allow herself time to mourn, those emotions would slowly but surely eat away at her until there was nothing left.
‘I could force you to take time off, you know?’
Helen stared down at her hands. ‘Yes, Matron.’
Kathleen sighed. ‘Very well, Nurse. You will not
report for duty tonight. But I want you to go to the sick bay and rest. That is my final word,’ she said, as Helen opened her mouth to argue. ‘You may report to your new ward for duty the day after tomorrow. But,’ she added, as Helen let out her breath, ‘if at any time you change your mind, or you feel your duties are too much for you, then you must tell me at once.’
‘Yes, Matron.’ Helen stood up, then paused. ‘If you please, Matron?’
‘Yes, Nurse?’
‘I wondered . . . may I have some time off next Wednesday? It’s Charlie’s – my husband’s funeral.’
A lump rose in Kathleen’s throat, almost choking her.
‘Yes, Nurse. Of course,’ she replied.
‘Thank you, Matron.’
As she turned to go, Kathleen said, ‘And don’t forget, Dawson, my door is always open. If you want to talk about anything.’
‘Yes, Matron. Thank you.’
Kathleen watched her as she walked to the door. Her steps were careful, measured, as if even the effort of putting one foot in front of the other was too much for her.
If there was anything troubling Helen Dawson, Kathleen had the feeling she would be the last to hear about it.
‘That’s the second day she hasn’t eaten a thing,’ Millie commented as they watched Helen across the dining room at supper time. She sat alone at the third-year table, her untouched plate of food in front of her. ‘We should go over there, say something to her . . .’
‘Like what?’ Dora said. ‘What could we possibly say that would make her feel better?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’ Millie sighed. ‘But I hate sitting here doing nothing. We’re supposed to be her friends, aren’t we?’
All the more reason why we should stay away, Dora thought. They could say sorry a hundred times or more, and it wouldn’t take away any of her pain.
As she watched, a group of third-years came into the dining room and sat down around Helen. She instantly came to life, smiling and talking to them. But Dora could see the strain on her face. All she really wanted was to be alone.
‘She knows where we are, when she needs us.’
‘I can’t stop thinking about what happened.’ Millie put her fork down and pushed her own plate away. ‘She was completely hysterical, not like Helen at all. The way she screamed and fought, like a wild animal – I truly thought she was going to black her brother’s eye, the way she lashed out at him. She kept saying it was a mistake, that Charlie was getting better. Poor girl, she’d been saying that for days, begging us to do more tests, telling us his oedema was going down when anyone could see it was getting worse . . .’
‘She saw what she wanted to see, I suppose,’ Dora said.
Millie nodded. ‘I suppose so. I wish she’d been there when he died, then perhaps she would have accepted it. But to come back and find he’d been taken down to the mortuary like that . . . well, it must have been a dreadful shock.’
‘Death does funny things to people,’ Katie O’Hara said gloomily, reaching across for Millie’s plate. ‘God, can you imagine being left a widow like that, barely a week after you were a bride? It’s cruel, it really is.’
‘It’s hard to believe how happy we were on her wedding day,’ Millie sighed.
‘I wonder if she knew what was going to happen?’ Lucy Lane mused. Dora shot Millie a look across the table but neither of them said anything.
‘It doesn’t sound like it, does it?’ Katie replied through a mouth full of food. ‘Besides, would you marry someone knowing they were going to die? I don’t think I would.’
‘Not even your Tommy?’ Dora said.
Lucy grinned nastily. ‘That’s the only time he would marry her, over his dead body!’
Katie crossed herself. ‘Don’t even joke about it. I don’t know what I’d do if he passed.’
‘I can’t believe she’s going back to work tomorrow,’ Millie said, her gaze still fixed on Helen. ‘I’m sure that can’t be a good idea.’
‘It’s her choice.’ Dora shrugged. ‘Maybe she feels like she has to keep herself busy? Besides, she’s only been assigned to Male Orthopaedics. They’re a lively lot there, it shouldn’t be too depressing for her.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Katie said. ‘My sister Bridget is a staff nurse there, don’t forget. She’d be enough to get anyone down!’
Helen had already gone by the time they left the dining room after supper.
‘When do you think she’ll be moving back into our room?’ Millie asked.
‘If she’s starting back on the wards tomorrow then she should be coming out of the sick bay tonight, I suppose,’ Dora replied.
‘Good.’ Millie smiled. ‘Perhaps she’ll feel like talking to us then?’
‘Perhaps,’ Dora agreed. ‘But we shouldn’t push her, if she doesn’t feel like it. We’ve got to give her time.’
Millie, Lucy and Katie were due back on the ward at nine o’clock, but Dora had already finished for the day. As she made her way back to the nurses’ home in the fading evening light, she was so deep in thought about Helen she didn’t notice the tall, broad-shouldered figure stepping into her path.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Nick said.
‘Nick!’ She glanced beyond him to the nurses’ home. ‘You’re taking a chance, ain’t you? What if Sister Sutton looked out of her window and caught us?’
‘I don’t care. I’m desperate.’
She peered at him. Even in the shadowy dusk, she could see the tension in the harsh planes of his face. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘I’m leaving Ruby.’
‘She lied to me,’ said Nick. ‘She was never pregnant. She made the whole thing up just so I’d marry her.’
Dora’s mind raced, all kinds of thoughts crowding in on her at once. ‘Who told you?’
‘Danny heard her and her mum talking about it. Ruby was telling her about this plan she’d come up with, to pretend to lose it. And that old cow Lettie said she’d help make it look real, so I’d be none the wiser.’
He stopped speaking abruptly, and Dora saw the flash of pain cross his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.
‘She had me fooled,’ Nick went on, his voice ragged. ‘I felt so sorry for her. I thought if she was suffering half as much as I was . . .’ He gulped in a steadying breath. ‘She watched me breaking my heart, let me go on thinking our baby was dead. And all the time she was laughing at me!’
Dora kept her hands pinned to her sides, fighting the urge to reach out to him. ‘I’m sure she wasn’t laughing, Nick.’
He looked up at her sharply. ‘You’re not sticking up for Ruby, surely?’
‘No, of course not. I just think she must have been really desperate to do something like that.’
‘Conniving, more like!’ Nick’s lip curled with contempt. ‘She’s been lying to me the whole way through our marriage, right from the minute she walked into that church and said “I do”. How she had the brass neck to make her vows before God, I’ve no idea. I’m surprised she didn’t get struck by lightning!’ His face was bitter. ‘I should have known,’ he said. ‘I should have realised she’d pull a trick like this to get her own way. She never thinks about anyone else, not for a second. Why should she, as long as she gets her own way?’
Dora flinched from the raw anger in his voice. He was right, Ruby had been cruel and deceitful; she deserved his contempt, and a lot more besides.
But she’d drawn Dora into her lie too.
‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ Nick was staring at her, his eyes hard and searching.
‘I – I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t seem very surprised. But then I suppose you know her better than anyone, don’t you? You were her mate for a long time, you must know what she’s capable of.’ He eyed Dora narrowly. ‘You didn’t know anything about this, did you?’
‘I—’
‘No, of course you didn’t. Forget I asked,’ Nick dismissed his question. ‘You
’re not like her, you’d never lie to me the way she has.’
Dora glanced behind him at the nurses’ home. Light glowed in every window as the students started to return from their day’s work. She wished she could be safely locked away with them.
‘Have you talked to Ruby?’ she asked.
Nick shook his head. ‘I’m too angry to face her, I didn’t want to do something I’d regret. Besides, I wanted to see you first. I just thought you could – I dunno, help me make sense of it all.’
He ran his hand through his dark curls. He looked more lost than angry, Dora thought. Like a man who’d had the stuffing kicked out of him and didn’t know why.
‘You need to talk to Ruby,’ she said.
His mouth tightened. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to her.’
‘Then listen to what she’s got to say.’
‘Why? All I’ll get out of her are more lies. She wouldn’t know the truth if she fell over it. I just don’t know what to believe or who to trust any more. Except for you.’
He reached for her hand, but Dora pulled away. She felt too dirty, too dishonest, to let him touch her.
‘She took that away too, didn’t she?’ Nick said heavily. ‘We could have been so happy together, and Ruby ruined it with her selfish lies. But it’s not too late, is it? We could still be together . . .’
Dora could feel the tension coming off his body. ‘Don’t say it,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s not right.’
‘Why not? I love you. I’ve always loved you.’
‘But you’re married to her.’
Nick’s eyes met hers, dark and direct. ‘For now,’ he said.
Dora felt sick. None of this should be happening, it was all wrong.
‘Talk to Ruby,’ she urged. ‘See what she’s got to say for herself.’
He sighed. ‘All right, if you think that’s best. But I’m telling you now, there isn’t a damn thing she can say to make me change my mind.’
Chapter Forty-One
CHARLIE’S FUNERAL WAS a real East End affair, no expense spared. Two black-plumed horses pulled the elaborate hearse, heavy with banks of colourful flowers, through the narrow streets, followed by a procession of Charlie’s friends and family. It felt as if the whole of Bethnal Green had turned out, lining the streets. As they passed Columbia Road market, the cries of the traders fell silent and everyone stood still, pulling off their hats and bowing their heads to show respect.
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