The Nightingale Nurses

by Donna Douglas

  Helen kept her face stony as she followed the funeral cortege. She wished she could let her feelings out like Charlie’s family were, but her mother always told her it was undignified to cry in front of other people.

  Not that Charlie’s family seemed to care. His mother, brothers and sisters were all sobbing. Even his father, burly costermonger that he was, had tears streaming down his face. They put their arms around each other, holding each other up. But there was no one to support Helen as she walked alone behind her husband’s coffin.

  Dora and Millie had come, and Helen’s father and brother. All four of them followed behind the procession, their heads bowed.

  Of course, her mother hadn’t come.

  It was probably just as well, Helen thought bitterly. She could only imagine what Constance would have made of Charlie’s family, howling with grief at the graveside. How she would have shuddered at the vulgarity of it all, the showiness of the flowers, the outpouring of emotion. Helen could just picture her, pursing her lips with distaste.

  But at least Charlie’s family were there to console his widow. After the service, Nellie Dawson came up to her. She was huddled in an astrakhan coat, her face bloated and blotchy with tears underneath her black hat.

  ‘Oh, my poor little girl.’ She drew Helen in her arms, enveloping her in a lavender-scented embrace. ‘How you must be suffering I just don’t know.’ She held her at arm’s length, scrutinising her face. ‘How are you bearing up, love?’

  Helen nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘Well, you know, you mustn’t be a stranger to us. You’re family now, remember that.’ She stroked a stray hair off Helen’s face. ‘Anything you want, anything you need, you come and see me, all right?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Helen managed to whisper.

  ‘No need to thank me, my darling. Like I said, you’re family now. That’s what Charlie would have wanted.’ Nellie sniffed back the tears that threatened to spill from her watery eyes. ‘He loved you, you know. Loved you with all his heart, he did. I’ve never known him so happy as he was with you.’ She pulled out her handkerchief. ‘Why the Lord decided to take him away from us I’ve got no idea. They say He works in mysterious ways, don’t they?’ She gave a wobbly smile. ‘Charlie’s probably watching us now from up there and having a right old laugh at us carrying on, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘I expect so.’

  As Helen went to walk away, Nellie Dawson said, ‘I almost forgot. Charlie asked me to give you something.’

  Helen turned back to her, frowning, as Nellie rummaged in her bag.

  ‘It’s in here somewhere . . . ah, here it is.’ She pulled out a small velvet-covered box and held it out.

  Helen stared down at it, her hands clenched at her sides, reluctant to take it. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’d better look, hadn’t you?’

  But she already knew the answer before she had taken the box and opened it. Nestling inside was a beautiful diamond solitaire engagement ring.

  ‘It belonged to his grandmother,’ Nellie Dawson explained. ‘Charlie said that you should have it . . . if anything happened to him.’ She managed a trembling smile. ‘He wanted you to have a proper engagement ring, to replace that old bit of silver paper.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Helen stared numbly at the ring, sparkling on its bed of black velvet. It was stunning. But as far as she was concerned it would never replace her paper ring. Nothing ever could.

  Constance stood behind the tall iron railings on the far side of the churchyard. Pain lanced through her as she watched another woman comforting her daughter. She dearly wished she could make herself walk through the lych gate and down the path, but her pride stopped her. Just as it had stopped her from seeing her daughter married.

  She hadn’t realised how loved Charlie Dawson was until she stood among the well-wishers who crowded the roadside, and listened to them crying for him. Everyone praised his kindness, his generosity, the fact that he never had a bad word to say about anyone.

  Not like her, Constance reflected. She felt ashamed of how harshly she had treated him, when all he’d done was to love her daughter.

  But now it was too late to put things right. And it was too late to put things right with Helen, too.

  Poor Helen. It had torn Constance’s heart to see her daughter’s slender figure walking behind the hearse, her head held high, expression impassive. Constance could only imagine what it must have taken for Helen to put on such a brave face. She had yearned to break free from the crowd and run to her. But she was afraid Helen might reject her, and she couldn’t face that.

  Matron had already told her that Helen did not wish to see her. As soon as she found out Charlie Dawson was dead, Constance had taken the first train up to London and gone to the Nightingale to bring her daughter home. But Matron had made it very clear: Helen did not wish either to see her or speak to her, and she certainly didn’t want to leave the hospital.

  ‘You don’t need to worry, Mrs Tremayne. Your daughter is among friends here,’ she had said. ‘We will take care of her.’

  Because you can’t. She hadn’t said as much, but her meaning was there, expressed clearly in those cool grey eyes of hers.

  And perhaps she was right, Constance reflected. All these years, she had been so concerned with moulding Helen in her own image that she had allowed herself to be blinded to what her daughter really needed.

  And now it was too late. She had lost Helen for ever.

  After the funeral, Millie and Dora left Helen at the graveside and walked back from the churchyard together.

  ‘Should we have stayed with her, do you think?’ Millie asked anxiously. Dora shook her head.

  ‘Charlie’s family will look after her,’ she said. ‘Besides, we’ve got to get back. Matron only gave us two hours off.’

  ‘I must say, I’ll be glad to get out of these clothes,’ Millie sighed. Even in the chill of the September air, her heavy black coat weighed her down. Dora looked just as gloomy, her freckled face covered by a thick black veil. ‘Poor Tremayne, how on earth must she be feeling?’

  ‘Don’t you mean Dawson?’

  ‘So I do.’ Millie shook her head. ‘I haven’t had time to get used to that name yet.’

  ‘Nor has she, I bet.’

  They trudged on, both lost in their own thoughts. The wind moaned mournfully through the trees of Victoria Park, and they had to keep their hands pinned to their hats.

  ‘I can’t believe she’s gone straight back to work,’ Millie said. ‘I don’t think I could bear it, do you?’

  ‘I daresay she knows what she’s doing.’ Dora shrugged.

  ‘Yes, but surely she’d feel better if she took time off to grieve?’

  ‘And what good would that do? All the grieving in the world isn’t going to bring him back, is it? She might feel she’s better off trying to take her mind off it, if she can.’

  Millie considered this for a moment. Dora was full of good sense, but she had a practical way of looking at the world that Millie sometimes found harsh.

  But then Dora probably found Millie’s wild optimism a bit too much to take at times, she thought.

  As they reached the entrance to the park, a sudden gust of wind caught Millie’s hat, tearing it off her head. She snatched at it but the wind had already whipped it out of her reach. It danced through the air and over the park gates.

  ‘Quick, catch it!’ She and Dora ran after it, dodging people, tripping over dogs and nearly colliding with trees. The hat twirled ahead of them, sinking tantalisingly within their grasp, only to bob upwards again when they lunged for it.

  ‘It’s going to get stuck in those trees, I know it is!’ Millie wailed.

  ‘If it ends up in that lake, I’m not going in after it!’ Dora panted back.

  Finally the wind dropped and the hat drifted gracefully to the ground, landing at the feet of a man who was walking towards them. They caught up with him as he bent to pick it up.

  ‘Yours,
I believe?’ he said, dusting it off and handing it over solemnly.

  ‘Thank you. We’ve been chasing it all over the park.’

  ‘Lucky I was here to catch it. Honestly, Mil, what would you do without me?’

  She looked up sharply at the sound of her name, and saw the man’s face properly for the first time. His fair hair was covered with a trilby, but she would have known those smiling blue eyes anywhere.

  ‘Seb?’ she whispered.

  He grinned. ‘Surprised to see me?’

  ‘Flabbergasted, more like!’ She stared at him, trying to take in this unexpected appearance. She still couldn’t quite believe he was there, standing in front of her. ‘But I don’t understand – I thought you were in Spain?’

  ‘I was, but the foreign desk seem to think I’d be better off back in Berlin. Apparently Herr Hitler and his cronies trust me more than the new chap. I’m still not sure if that’s a compliment or not!’ Seb grimaced. ‘I persuaded them to let me have a few days back in England first. Told them I wanted to see if I still had a fiancée?’ He sent her a quizzical look. ‘I wasn’t too sure after our last telephone conversation.’

  ‘Oh, Seb!’ Millie threw her arms around him, holding him close. ‘I’m so sorry. I was just being silly. You see, I’d seen this fortune-teller—’

  He held her at arm’s length. ‘A fortune-teller?’

  ‘Yes, and she told me I’d be in—’

  She stopped abruptly. She and Dora looked at each other. Dora’s face was pale beneath her thick black veil.

  ‘What did she tell you?’ Seb laughed uneasily. ‘Come on, you’re making me nervous!’

  ‘Nothing.’ Millie took his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  NICK SAT ON a bench on the moonlit patch of green below Victory House and tried to summon the energy to climb the stairs. The solid redbrick blocks reared up all around him, their rows of windows casting patches of light down on the empty green where he sat, smoking and brooding.

  It was past nine o’clock and he had been walking the streets for more than three hours. He didn’t want to go home, couldn’t face dealing with any more of Ruby’s lies. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself, either. He had never raised his hand to a woman and despised any man who did. But the way he was feeling, if Ruby opened her mouth and another lie came out, he didn’t know if he could be responsible for his actions.

  He hated lies. He had been brought up with them, lived with them all his life. He had grown up always having to lie to someone: the rent man, the tallyman, the pawnbroker, the bloke in the corner shop when his mum needed cigarettes on tick. He had lied to his teachers about being sick when he had to take a day off school to work. He had lied to the neighbours when they demanded to know what his mum was doing in the pub when she’d sworn that tanner she borrowed was to feed her kids. He had even lied to the doctors who’d saved Danny’s life, backing up his mum’s story that his brother’s injuries had been caused by a fall.

  He lit another cigarette, the last in his packet, playing for time. His marriage was over, he knew that already. He had promised Dora he would give Ruby a chance to explain herself and that was the only reason he was there, sitting outside the flats, and not long gone. Not that he was interested in anything Ruby had to say. He couldn’t imagine anything she could say that would make him want her again.

  He had done his best to make a go of his marriage. For Ruby’s sake and the sake of his baby, he had turned his back on the girl he loved. He had worked hard, handed over his pay packet every week and tried to be the best husband he knew how. He might have gone on doing it until his dying day, if he hadn’t found out how she’d betrayed him.

  Now he didn’t owe her a damn thing.

  It was almost ten o’clock when he finally let himself into the flat. Ruby came out of the sitting room, dressed up to the nines as usual in a blue dress he hadn’t seen before, topped off by a lacy cardigan. Her hair was done up in waves around her face, and she was wearing more make-up than usual. But the fresh coat of crimson lipstick only emphasised the sulky lines of her turned-down mouth.

  ‘And what time do you call this?’ she snapped.

  He looked at her, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her bosom, and all the fight went out of him. He couldn’t even summon up the energy to be angry with her any more.

  He walked straight past her into the bedroom. Ruby followed him. ‘That’s it, is it? No apology, no excuse?’ Her voice was shrill. ‘Well, that’s very nice, I must say. You go out until all hours, come in without a by your leave, and then you won’t even tell me where you’ve been.’ Her mouth firmed in frustration. ‘And you needn’t think I’ve kept any dinner for you, either, because that went in the bin hours ago.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ve still got a tongue in your head, have you? I thought you must have lost it the same place you left your manners . . .’ She broke off at the sight of the battered suitcase Nick had pulled from on top of the wardrobe. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Packing, what does it look like?’ He pulled open a chest of drawers, pulled out an armful of clothes and dumped them in the case.

  It took her a second to react. ‘Going somewhere, are you?’ She sounded brazen, but out of the corner of his eye Nick could see her regarding him warily.

  ‘Anywhere, as long as it’s away from you.’

  She examined her fingernails. ‘And am I allowed to know why?’

  ‘You work it out.’

  She sighed. ‘If it’s about the debts, I thought we’d sorted that out.’

  ‘It’s not about the debts!’ He raised his voice and saw her flinch. ‘Do you really think I care about a few stupid debts? You could have had us both turned out on the streets and it wouldn’t have mattered as much as the lies you’ve told.’

  Her face paled, but she recovered quickly. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Nick pulled a shirt out of the wardrobe and dropped it into the suitcase. ‘I talked to Danny.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Ruby smiled tightly. ‘And what’s that little rascal been saying now?’

  ‘He heard you and your mum talking. About the baby.’

  She frowned for a moment, as if she was seriously trying to recall it. Then she laughed. ‘Oh, that! For heaven’s sake, Nick, we were just talking about one of the women on her ward, that’s all. Danny didn’t really think I was talking about myself, did he?’ She shook her head. ‘That boy will get someone hung one of these days.’ She chuckled. ‘He must have got it all mixed up, you know what he’s like . . .’

  ‘Don’t,’ Nick said wearily, slamming down the lid of his suitcase. ‘For Christ’s sake, Ruby, can’t you stop lying even now? Or have you forgotten what the truth sounds like?’

  All kinds of emotions flitted across Ruby’s face before she settled on remorse. As Nick watched her, her lips trembled and her blue eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry.’ She sat down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. ‘You’re right, I’ve lied to you, said some terrible things. You don’t know how much I’ve wished I could turn the clock back, start all over again.’

  Nick watched her weeping. ‘Why did you do it?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I love you!’ She pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan and pressed it to her eyes. ‘I was frightened you were going to leave me. I didn’t mean to say those things, I didn’t plan them or anything. It just happened. You’ve got to believe me, I’m telling the truth this time!’ Her eyes searched his, pleading for understanding. ‘I wanted to tell you, as soon as I’d said it. But then everything started happening at once, and I got caught up in the wedding, and I thought . . . maybe once we’re married it won’t matter so much any more.’

  ‘Won’t matter?’ He stared at her. Could she really be so naive, so utterly selfish? ‘You lied to me, Ruby.’

  ‘Yes, I know!’ There was an edge of impa
tience to her voice. ‘And I wanted to tell you the truth, as soon as we were married. I kept trying, but it never seemed to be the right time. And then I knew you’d leave me if you found out the truth, so—’

  ‘So you told another lie,’ he finished for her. ‘Do you know how I felt when you told me you’d lost our baby? It broke my heart, Ruby. You watched me go through hell . . .’

  ‘What else was I supposed to do?’

  ‘You could have put me out of my misery. You could have told me the truth.’

  ‘Yes, well, I didn’t know you’d take it so badly, did I?’

  ‘It was my child, my flesh and blood.’ Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that it had all been a lie. ‘But it was all a game to you, wasn’t it? Just a big game.’

  Ruby met his eyes defiantly. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ she snapped. ‘What more do you want?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Nick said wearily. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’

  He closed his suitcase and snapped the lid shut. As he hauled it off the bed, Ruby jumped up and barred his way.

  ‘Look, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but we can make things right again,’ she said eagerly.

  ‘It’s too late, Ruby.’

  ‘Why? Why is it too late? We’ve been happy, ain’t we? And I’ve been a good wife to you. You’ve got to admit that, ain’t you?’ He tried to move past her but she stepped into his path. ‘I’m not expecting miracles, but if we give it time we can make our marriage work. All I’m asking for is another chance. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?’ She faced him, her eyes wide with appeal. ‘Please, Nick? Give me a chance to prove I can be the wife you want?’

  She looked so vulnerable, so full of childish hope, that Nick felt himself weaken.

  ‘I don’t want you any more, Ruby,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t mean that!’