‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t hurt him at all.’
Shortly afterwards, Miss Sloan appeared with an armful of linen, and they rushed around making up all the beds and boiling up water for bottles. Miss Sloan and Kitty worked together, while Dora managed by herself. All the time she worked, she kept one ear cocked for the sound of the telephone, to say that the men had arrived.
She was busy making up a bed in one of the private rooms when the door opened behind her. Thinking it was Miss Sloan or Kitty, she said, ‘Well, don’t just stand there watching. Come and give me a hand, my back’s killing me!’
‘I should think so, Nurse Riley. What were you taught in training about always making beds in pairs?’
The sound of the calm, authoritative voice sent a chill through her. Dora shot upright to see the Nightingale’s matron, Kathleen Fox, standing in the doorway.
‘I – I’m so sorry, Matron. I didn’t know it was you,’ she stammered, reaching up to tuck a stray curl of red hair into her cap.
‘So I gathered.’ Miss Fox looked around. ‘I heard you were expecting more patients and I came to see how you were managing.’
‘We’re all right, Matron. Thank you.’
‘Everything certainly seems under control.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘Right, let’s finish making this bed, shall we?’
‘No!’ Dora yelped out the word. ‘I – I didn’t mean you had to help—’
‘Don’t be silly, of course I want to help. It’s all hands to the pump in a situation like this. Besides, it’s a long time since I’ve made a bed,’ she added, a small smile curving her lips. ‘It might be nice to see if I still remember how to do it.’
Dora could feel the heat rising in her face, staining her cheeks a bright crimson as she stood opposite Matron, both of them working together to pull up and straighten the sheets before tucking them in. She didn’t dare look up in case she met her eye.
I’ll be in trouble for this, she thought. One way or another, I’ll be in trouble.
It took less than a minute to make the bed, but it felt like forever. Afterwards, Miss Fox stood back to inspect her handiwork.
‘Yes, well, as I said, it’s been a long time since I made a bed,’ she said, adjusting the turned-down sheet to the perfect fourteen inches. ‘I don’t know if it would bear a ward sister’s scrutiny, do you?’
‘I think it looks just right, Matron,’ Dora mumbled, still too embarrassed to look at her.
‘Perhaps you never lose the knack?’ Miss Fox looked amused.
They returned to the main ward to find the extra beds in place and neatly made up.
‘Where is Sister Dawson? I looked for her when I arrived, but I couldn’t seem to find her . . .’ Miss Fox’s grey gaze scanned the ward.
Dora was suddenly aware of Major Von Mundel hovering in the corner of her vision, and prayed he wouldn’t say anything.
‘She had already gone off duty when we had the telephone call, Matron,’ she explained, then added quickly, ‘But as you can see, we’ve managed to cope.’
‘Indeed you have.’ Matron nodded her approval. ‘Well done, Nurses.’ Kitty stared down at her shoes while Miss Sloan turned pink with pleasure. Miss Fox turned to Dora. ‘You will tell me if there is anything else I can do when the patients arrive, won’t you?’ she said.
‘Yes, Matron.’
No sooner had Miss Fox gone than Major Von Mundel approached Dora. ‘Did Matron say why Sister Dawson was not here?’ he asked.
Dora frowned. ‘Why should she? Sister Dawson was off duty.’
‘And what about all the other times she is absent from the ward?’
‘What about them? Sister Dawson is very busy, she has another ward to look after. She can’t help it if she’s called away – ’
Dr Von Mundel snorted impatiently. ‘You are very loyal, Nurse Riley. But I fear your loyalty is misplaced. The oberschwester neglects her duties on this ward and should be reported to Matron.’
Dora stared at him, genuinely shocked. ‘I couldn’t do that!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she’s my friend.’
Dr Von Mundel looked puzzled. ‘This is not a matter of friendship. Sister Dawson deserves to be reprimanded.’
‘Yes, well, that might be the way you do things in your country, but not in mine. Where I come from friends are loyal to each other.’
His blue eyes were cold above his razor-sharp cheekbones. ‘I do not see Sister Dawson being loyal to you, Nurse Riley.’
Chapter Eleven
The patients arrived shortly afterwards. According to their notes, they were part of a German unit who had surrendered to the Allies just outside Caen.
Looking at them, Dora could understand why they had given up. The men were exhausted and malnourished, their uniforms hanging off their thin frames. They were in a poor physical state, with infected wounds, broken bones and several bad coughs.
‘I reckon they knew when they were beaten, eh Nurse?’ Dr Abbott remarked, as they watched the men being brought in.
Dora glanced at Major Von Mundel, standing on the other side of the ward, his steely gaze fixed on the men. He gave no sign that he’d heard the doctor’s comment, but Dora knew his keen ears missed nothing.
She didn’t know why she should be so concerned about his feelings, when he clearly cared nothing for hers, but she wished Dr Abbott had kept his foolish remarks to himself.
But that was Jimmy Abbott all over. He was little more than a thoughtless boy, a fresh-faced young medical student who had suddenly found himself in his last year acting as both a physician and surgical registrar. If his onerous responsibilities weighed him down at all, he certainly never showed it. He was always larking about and playing practical jokes on the nurses.
A more different character from stern Major Von Mundel, Dora couldn’t imagine. No wonder the pair didn’t get on.
She could feel the Major’s disapproval like an icy mist shrouding her as they started their rounds of the patients.
The worst injured was the unit’s commanding officer, a lieutenant who had suffered a fractured femur. He had undergone an emergency operation at the field hospital in Caen, but he had lost a great deal of blood and was still unconscious.
‘Well, if he hasn’t woken up by now I don’t suppose he ever will,’ Dr Abbott said, scribbling on the man’s notes. ‘They should have taken his leg off, it might have saved his life.’
Out of the corner of her eye Dora saw Von Mundel wince.
‘Should I have a nurse sit with him, just in case?’ she ventured.
‘It hardly seems worth wasting the poor girl’s time.’ Then Dr Abbott shrugged and added, ‘But I don’t suppose it would do any harm, would it? And you never know, miracles do happen.’
Once Dr Abbott had gone, Dora and Miss Sloan began the long round of settling the patients and making them comfortable. As she bathed, washed, shaved bristled chins and combed hair, Dora found the new patients were not as easy as the nervous boys she was used to dealing with. They were surly, rude and muttered comments under their breath that Dora knew must be insulting.
Teetering on the edge of exhaustion, it took all Dora’s self-control to keep a smile pasted on her face.
‘What’s your name, love?’ she asked one young man, who had been brought in with a gunshot wound to his groin. He stared blankly back at her through hostile blue eyes. He was slimly built and coldly handsome, his close-cropped hair as platinum blond as Jean Harlow’s.
‘Wass is das? Ich verstehe nicht.’
Dora waited for Major Von Mundel to translate as usual, but he remained silent and tight-lipped.
‘What did he say?’ she prompted.
‘He says he can’t understand you.’ He turned to the young man. ‘Wie heiβen sie?’
Once again, the young man remained silent.
‘Beantworte die Frage!’ Von Mundel snapped at him through gritted teeth.
The young man sent the major a sly s
ideways look and mumbled something in response.
‘He says his name is Gefreiter Felix Frost,’ Major Von Mundel translated for him, his gaze still locked on the young man.
‘Well, Felix, I’m going to clean you up and get you changed. You know – wash?’ Dora picked up the flannel and mimed with it.
‘Nein.’ Felix shook his head.
‘You don’t have to worry, ducks, we don’t mean you any harm. No one’s going to hurt you,’ she said.
The boy stared at her. ‘Sie können mich nicht verletzen,‘ he muttered. Dora couldn‘t understand what he was saying, but it sounded slightly threatening.
‘Come on,’ she said briskly. ‘You’ve got to let us get you washed and changed. You’ll feel better for it, I promise – ‘
She reached for him, but he batted her arm away, knocking her sideways.
‘Holen Sie sich Ihre Hände weg von mir!‘ he snapped, his eyes blazing. ‘Schmutzige Hure!’
Suddenly, out of nowhere Dr Von Mundel lashed out and struck the young man, a blow that sent his head snapping backwards.
Dora cried out in shock as Felix put his hand up to touch the fresh cut on his lip. His face remained expressionless.
‘He won’t give you any more trouble,’ Dr Von Mundel said shortly. He pushed the curtains to one side and stepped through them. Dora abandoned her trolley, and followed him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Shock and anger took away her voice, so she could barely speak above a whisper.
Dr Von Mundel stared back at her blankly. ‘He was being difficult, so I reprimanded him.’
‘You hit him!’
‘What else was I supposed to do, if he didn’t follow orders? He is a soldier, Nurse Riley. Sometimes it is the only language they understand.’
‘But – ‘ Dora was so speechless with shock, she could barely manage to utter the words. ‘How dare you!’ she burst out finally.
‘You didn‘t hear what he said to you.’
‘No, but I can guess. And I’m sure I’ve had worse said to me.’
‘Not by one of my men.’ Von Mundel’s high cheekbones were stained with angry colour. ‘They should be grateful for the care they are receiving, not insolent towards you.’ He jerked his head towards the curtains. ‘As I said, he shouldn’t give you any more trouble.’
He stalked off, leaving Dora to stare after him, stunned.
It was nearly nine o’clock, four hours after she should have gone off duty, when Dora was finally able to head home.
She was so weary she could barely set one foot in front of the other. But what made it worse was that she knew Walter and Winnie would be in bed by the time she got home. She had been so looking forward to spending time with them, but now all she could do was gaze at their sleeping heads tucked up in bed, the way she always did.
As Dora headed for the gates, she saw two figures coming towards her. A pair of young women, one tall, the other short and squat, their arms interlinked, laughing together.
Helen and her friend Clare.
Dr Von Mundel’s words came back to Dora.
I do not see Sister Dawson being loyal to you, Nurse Riley.
He was right, she thought: Helen had abandoned her. Dora had done her best to make excuses for her friend, but the truth was that Helen always left her to cope on her own.
They were getting closer, their laughter ringing out, grating on her nerves. Dora felt her anger building up inside her, jangling like a bell in her head, and she knew she couldn’t face Helen. She wasn’t sure she could even speak to her without exploding. She pulled the collar of her cloak up around her ears and hurried past them, head down so they wouldn’t notice her.
Chapter Twelve
The fractured femur was going to die. Dr Abbott had said so, and everyone knew it.
‘He’s lost so much blood, I don’t suppose he’ll wake up,’ Nurse Riley had said. ‘But it would be nice for someone to sit with him, just in case.’
Nice for who, Kitty wondered. Not for her, that was for sure. All she could think about was that she was missing her night out. She was supposed to be going up West with Bea and Lily after her shift finished. Bea had promised to get them into the American Red Cross Club in Curzon Street where she worked. It was supposed to be very swanky, and Kitty had been looking forward to it.
But if she wasn’t waiting for them at the bus stop by half past nine on the dot, she knew they wouldn’t bother to wait for her. Bea and her sister-in-law had become inseparable lately, and Kitty was beginning to feel like a spare part when they were out together. Especially as she had no interest in chasing men like they did.
But even though Kitty wasn’t particularly interested in finding a boyfriend, she would still have rather been enjoying the plush surroundings of the Washington Club than sitting here, waiting for a stranger to wake up.
She glanced at her watch. It was just turned half past eight. There was still plenty of time, she told herself. With any luck, the night nurse would come on duty early and Kitty could leave her to look after the patient. She knew Nurse Riley wouldn’t approve, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
‘And you’re not going to tell, are you?’ she whispered to the man. He probably wouldn’t live to tell any tales. As he lay in bed, curtained off from the other two beds in the private room, his breathing was already so shallow that Kitty had to lean close to check he was still alive.
She had done everything she could for him, anyway. She had covered him with blankets and a hot water bottle to keep him warm and try to minimise shock. Now all she had to do was wait . . .
She picked up his notes and flicked through them idly to pass the time.
His name was Oberleutnant Stefan Bauer, and he was the officer in charge of the captured unit. There was no age given, and no other details about his life. Just his army number and a bald list of medical details about him. He had sustained a serious fracture to the shaft of his right femur, with extensive damage to the surrounding muscles and connective tissue.
That was putting it mildly, Kitty thought. His right thigh was firmly encased in a Thomas’ splint, but she could see the bones and muscles had been pulverised. It was a miracle he had made it to the field hospital, let alone all the way back to England.
But then, that craggy face looked as if it had already survived far more than it should have. Kitty studied him carefully. He was older than the other men, around thirty perhaps, or even older. He didn’t have the pale colouring or the fine bone structure of his fellow Germans. His hair was darker, tawny in colour, and his features were coarse. His flattened nose looked as if it had been broken at least once, and the trace of a jagged scar ran down the left side from his temple to his jaw.
She touched her own face, close to her hairline. Unlike her, Stefan Bauer didn’t try to hide his scars. He looked like a man who had fought his way through life.
Now he was facing a battle he couldn’t win. She almost felt sorry for him.
On the other side of the curtain, she heard the door to the private room open and checked her watch. It was only twenty to nine and blessed be, the night nurse had come on duty early. Smiling, Kitty stood up and pushed aside the curtain. But her smile died on her lips when she saw Mal standing in the doorway.
‘I’ve come to say goodnight,’ he said, looking down at the cap he was wringing between his hands. ‘Len and I are going off duty now, and the other lads are taking over.’
Kitty nodded awkwardly. ‘All right. See you in the morning.’
She started to retreat behind the curtains again, but Mal blurted out, ‘Can I have a word before I go?’
A prickle of dread ran up Kitty’s spine. Mal had tried to speak to her several times since he’d started doing sentry duty on the ward. So far, Kitty had managed to avoid him, but she could feel him watching her every day as she went about her duties, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he plucked up the courage to confront her again.
Kitty turned back to look
at the man in the bed, as if he could somehow step in and protect her. But he went on sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling.
‘The night nurse will be here in a minute,’ she said, glancing desperately past Mal towards the door.
‘Then I’ll be quick.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry.’
Kitty looked away so he couldn’t see the colour scalding her cheeks. ‘You’ve got no reason to apologise,’ she mumbled.
‘But I upset you.’
‘You only did what everyone else does when they look at me.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him wince. He paused for a moment, then said, ‘How – did it happen?’
‘An air raid. I got hit by flying shrapnel.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Like I said, you’ve got no reason to apologise. Now, if you don’t mind—’
‘I’d still like to take you out one night.’
Kitty swung round to look at him. ‘Why? Because you feel sorry for me?’
‘No!’
‘Because I don’t need your pity, you know.’
‘I know that. I want to take you out because I like you.’
Kitty looked at his face, so open and honest. He really did have a nice smile, she thought.
She shook her head. ‘Thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to go out with you,’ she said.
He looked crestfallen. ‘Why not?’ Then he added, ‘It is my cologne, isn’t it?’
Kitty smiled in spite of herself. ‘No.’
‘Then why?’
‘I—’
Behind her, the man in the bed let out a deep groan. Kitty immediately forgot all about Mal as she rushed to his side.
‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Can you hear me?’
Stefan Bauer stirred, and his eyes flicked open, giving sudden life to his mask-like face. They were deep set, brown flecked with ochre.
‘Wo bin ich?’ His voice was low and rough.
She had no idea what he was saying, but she tried to reply with something comforting. ‘You’re quite safe. You’re in hospital.’
‘Hospital?’ He repeated the word slowly. His gaze focused on Kitty, as if seeing her for the first time.
A Nightingale Christmas Carol Page 8
