A Nightingale Christmas Carol

by Donna Douglas

Meanwhile, Major Von Mundel couldn’t seem to find anything useful to do. He paced up and down the ward, snapping at the nurses and upsetting everyone.

  Miss Sloan was particularly put out about it. ‘I don’t understand it,’ she complained to Dora as they polished the bathroom taps. ‘The Major is usually very civil to me. A cold fish, but always polite.’

  ‘I expect he’s got a lot on his mind,’ Dora replied.

  At four o’clock, she went for her tea break in the kitchen. She brewed a pot of tea, and as an afterthought, poured a cup for Major Von Mundel too.

  She found him sitting just outside the double doors, in a waiting area that had once been reserved for the patients’ families when it was an ordinary surgical ward. It was away from the main ward, but still within sight of the guards on the doors.

  Major Von Mundel sat on one of the hard chairs, leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees. His fingers were steepled in front of his face, and for a moment Dora thought he might be praying, until she realised he was simply deep in thought.

  He looked up sharply as she approached, his lip curling when he saw the teacup in her hands.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘Tea? I thought you might like a cup?’

  ‘Tea? Is that your cure for everything?’

  ‘Well, I won’t deny it’s got me through a few hard times!’ Dora said.

  His eyes narrowed and Dora steeled herself, sensing he was about to lash out. But to her surprise his mouth was curved in a slight smile.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Nurse Riley,’ he said curtly. ‘It is wrong of me to take my frustration out on you. None of this is your fault.’ He paused. ‘I just find the situation very – difficult, that is all.’

  ‘I know,’ Dora said.

  She put the cup down on the table in front of him and turned to leave.

  ‘Please,’ Major Von Mundel said. ‘You will sit with me for a moment, yes?’

  Dora looked around. She was on her break, after all. And there was no one to reprimand her, as Helen was still on the other ward.

  And the poor Major looked as if he needed to talk to someone.

  ‘Maybe I will take the weight off my feet for a minute,’ she said, sitting herself down in the chair opposite his.

  But Major Von Mundel didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking. The silence stretched awkwardly between them, and Dora began to wish she had escaped back to the kitchen while she’d had a chance.

  ‘Dr Abbott is a good doctor, you know,’ she said, to fill the silence. ‘I know it might not seem like it to you, but—’

  ‘On the contrary, I’m sure he is. Or he will be, one day,’ Major Von Mundel said. ‘But he lacks experience. He would benefit from proper guidance.’

  ‘That’s hardly his fault. All the experienced doctors have been sent off to Europe.’

  ‘I know that, Nurse Riley. But Dr Abbott is very young to be given so much responsibility. I’m certain he feels it also, but he is afraid to admit it because he doesn’t wish to appear foolish.’

  Dora considered his words. ‘I daresay you’re right,’ she conceded.

  ‘But there can be no room for pride when a patient’s future is in the balance.’ Major Von Mundel went on. ‘Stefan Bauer needs an operation to remove the disease from his bones, otherwise the healthy tissue will not grow and he will not walk again. Surely that is more important than a doctor’s pride?’ Dora saw the appeal in his eyes but said nothing. She didn’t know the words to say to make it right. ‘It is so difficult for me, to see so clearly what must be done, and yet not to be allowed to do it,’ Major Von Mundel went on. He held up his hands. ‘It is like having these tied behind my back.’

  She nodded. ‘It is such a waste.’

  He looked surprised. ‘You agree with me?’

  ‘Why not? You’re right, we could do with your experience.’

  ‘And you’re not afraid I would go mad with a scalpel and kill everyone?’ There was a note of bitter irony in his voice.

  ‘I’ve always believed doctors are dedicated to saving lives, no matter where they come from.’

  Major Von Mundel sighed. ‘Let’s hope your Dr Abbott sees it that way, Nurse Riley.’

  Chapter Twenty

  That night Kitty went out with Mal to watch the new John Wayne film at the Rialto. But the harder she tried to concentrate on the story, the more her thoughts seemed to slide away.

  ‘What did you reckon to it?’ Mal asked later, when they stepped out into the damp, drizzly night.

  ‘I enjoyed it.’ Kitty prayed he wouldn’t ask her about the plot, since she couldn’t remember the first thing about it.

  ‘You might have enjoyed it more if you’d actually watched it!’ Mal sent her a sideways look. ‘I saw you, Kitty, you were miles away. I hope you weren’t daydreaming about another man?’ he teased.

  Kitty looked away so he wouldn’t see her blushing. ‘As a matter of fact, I was thinking about a patient at the hospital.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s charming! So it’s not just another man you’re thinking about, it’s also a German!’

  ‘It’s not like that. I’ve just found out this patient probably won’t walk again.’

  She still felt the sadness like a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. Poor Stefan Bauer still knew nothing of his fate. Kitty couldn’t imagine how he would react when he found out. All his energies had been focused on getting out of the hospital, and now . . .

  Mal frowned. ‘And what’s that got to do with you?’

  ‘Nothing, I suppose. I just feel sorry for him.’

  ‘You shouldn’t waste your pity on a German,’ Mal dismissed.

  ‘He’s still a patient.’

  Mal pulled a face. ‘Well, I wouldn’t worry about him, anyway,’ he said. ‘He’ll be well looked after, I’m sure. He’ll probably have a cushy time at the POW camp, since he won’t be sent out on any work party. I wouldn’t mind being able to sit out the rest of the war in comfort!’ he laughed.

  Kitty turned on him. ‘You don’t understand, do you? He won’t walk again for the rest of his life, not just the war!’

  ‘All right, you don’t have to shout at me!’ Mal retreated into a hurt silence. As they made their way home, Kitty felt the weight of his sullen mood and knew she would have to apologise. This was their first night out together in ages, and she didn’t want it to end in an argument.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have gone on about it and let it spoil our evening.’

  Mal sent her a sheepish look. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said. ‘I know you’re only thinking about him because you care.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I can’t help it if I’m a jealous fool, can I?’

  ‘What have you got to be jealous about?’

  ‘You!’ He slid his arm around her shoulders. ‘You forget, I’m guarding that ward every day. I see the way those men look at you.’

  ‘Come off it!’ Kitty laughed. ‘Who’d look at me?’

  ‘Any man with eyes in his head.’ Mal turned to face her, reaching up to brush her carefully arranged hair back from her face. Kitty automatically flinched away but he trapped her chin between his hands, holding her fast.

  ‘Why do you always have to hide away?’ he said softly. ‘You’re beautiful, Kitty Jenkins.’

  ‘Stop it,’ she ducked her head. ‘You’re making fun of me.’

  ‘I’m not. I mean it, I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.’ He leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. ‘There,’ he said, lifting his head from hers. ‘I bet you weren’t thinking of another man then, were you?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, smiling.

  He slid his arm around her shoulders again, pulling her close to him.

  ‘You know your problem, Kitty? You take on too much. I mean, it’s all well and good you looking after your patients. I admire you for caring for them, I really do. I bet there aren’t many who’d think so much about the Germans, especially after what they did to your family—’ He pau
sed for a moment. ‘But you shouldn’t worry about them too much. They’re not worth it, Kitty. You’ve got to remember who’s really important to you, and think about them, instead.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘No suppose about it. I am right,’ Mal said.

  He did have a point, Kitty thought as they walked home. It was one thing to look after the POWs while she was on duty, but she shouldn’t be thinking about them or anyone else while she was out with her boyfriend. This was supposed to be their time together, and they got precious little of it as it was.

  But in spite of Kitty’s good intentions, Stefan Bauer was the first one on her mind when she woke up the following morning. She reported for duty with a heavy heart, dreading what was to come.

  Nurse Riley briefed her on the treatment he was to receive – daily passive hyperaemia, faradic stimulation, regular massage and exposure to the sun. Everything they could imagine, apart from surgery.

  Kitty would have liked to ask why they weren’t operating on him, but she was far too junior to ask such a question, and Nurse Riley’s grim expression was too forbidding.

  Instead she asked the question that had been playing on her mind all night. ‘Does he know yet, Staff?’

  Dora shook her head. ‘Dr Abbott thinks it might be better for him if he doesn’t find out just yet, not until we’ve given these other treatments a try. And for heaven’s sake, girl, try to smile,’ she warned Kitty. ‘That long face of yours would make anyone lose the will to live!’

  ‘Yes, Staff.’ Kitty obligingly forced her mouth up at the corners, but her heart was still heavy when she went in to see Stefan later.

  Hans was moaning in his sleep again, his head thrashing from side to side, the muscles in his face clenched in a horrible grimace.

  She looked at Stefan. ‘Another bad dream?’

  He nodded, his expression grim. ‘He hardly slept last night.’ He paused, then added, ‘The men came to question him yesterday.’

  The men from the government had taken to visiting every week or so. They would question the new patients, sometimes in Sister’s office or behind the curtains if they were too ill to be moved. They would ask them about their beliefs and their Nazi sympathies, then process them accordingly. Those most dedicated to the Nazi cause would have a black cloth patch sewn on their clothes, those with no sympathies would get a white patch, and the rest would have a grey one.

  ‘They haven’t questioned you yet?’ she said.

  ‘Not yet. But my time will come.’

  ‘What will you tell them?’

  She heard the smile in his voice, even with her back turned. ‘You want to know if I am a true Nazi, Fraülein?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with me, I’m sure,’ Kitty replied huffily.

  ‘Nein, I suppose not. You detest us all, I think.’ Before she could respond, he went on, ‘but in case you want to know, I have no interest in this war. I just want this damn leg of mine to heal so I can go home. If I still have a home to go to when all this is over,’ he added bitterly.

  ‘Do you have family in Germany?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘I don’t come from Germany.’

  Kitty swung round, frowning. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘I am German, but my home is – was – in Serbia. When Germany went to war, we were conscripted into the army with everyone else.’

  ‘You didn’t want to fight?’

  ‘I am a German, it is my duty.’ But there was no passion behind his words, Kitty noticed. Not like Felix or a few of the other men, who made no secret of their hatred for Britain, and treated Kitty and the other nurses with barely concealed contempt.

  ‘As to your other question – I have no family. Not since my brother died.’ He turned his attention to the rubber bandage she was unrolling. ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s a new treatment we’re trying.’

  ‘And will it do any good?’

  ‘The doctor thinks so.’

  ‘But it won’t make me walk again, will it?’

  Kitty’s head shot up, panic flaring through her. ‘Who told you – ?’

  Too late she realised the truth. Stefan’s mouth twisted. ‘You did,’ he said. ‘Oh, do not look so alarmed, Fraülein. I am not a fool. I saw how the doctor looked at those X-rays yesterday.’

  Kitty chewed her lip. ‘You weren’t supposed to know.’

  ‘Then I thank you for your honesty, at least.’

  She looked down at the length of India-rubber bandage in her hands. It seemed almost absurd that such a flimsy, insubstantial thing might help him. ‘There are still a lot of treatments we could try – ’

  ‘Of course.’ He spoke with such quiet resignation, Kitty could almost feel her heart breaking apart inside her chest.

  She looked at Stefan, the pride in his tilted chin as he tried to face his fate. Something inside her clicked.

  ‘You will walk again,’ she said.

  He sent her a sharp, puzzled look. ‘What makes you so sure?’

  ‘Because you want to do it. And I want you to do it.’

  ‘And why should you care?’

  Mal’s words suddenly came into her mind. You shouldn’t waste your pity on a German.

  ‘Because I’m a nurse and it’s my job to care,’ she said. Then she added, ‘and because you didn’t tell anyone about Arthur.’

  He shook his head. ‘I told you, I know how to keep a secret.’ His gaze moved to the bandage in her hands. ‘Do you really think I might walk again?’ he said.

  She hoped for once her emotions weren’t written so clearly on her face. ‘I think you could do anything, if you set your mind to it,’ she said.

  For once his smile reached his eyes, warmth kindling in their brown depths. ‘Perhaps you are right,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  December 1944

  ‘I daresay this’ll be my last Christmas.’

  Dora exchanged a quick, knowing smile with her mother across the kitchen table. Nanna Winnie’s annual lament was as much a part of the festive season as the King’s Speech on the wireless.

  It was a rainy Sunday afternoon in the middle of December, and Rose had dug out the box of old Christmas decorations to see if they would do for another year. Walter, Winnie and Mabel were helping sort through them at one end of the table, while Bea permed Lily’s hair at the other.

  ‘Here we go again!’ Dora’s mother sighed, rolling her eyes to the heavens.

  ‘I mean it,’ Nanna Winnie said. ‘I won’t live to see another one.’

  Walter looked up at Dora, his eyes wide. ‘Is Nanna going to die, Mum?’ he whispered.

  ‘Take no notice, love,’ Dora’s mother answered for her. ‘She says the same thing every year.’

  ‘It’s being so cheerful as keeps her going!’ Dora grinned. ‘Ain’t that right, Nanna?’

  ‘You can be as cheeky as you like,’ Nanna scowled back. ‘But you mark my words. One of these days, I’ll be right.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope it ain’t this Christmas.’ Rose held up a tangle of tattered paper chain. ‘I reckon this lot has seen better days, don’t you?’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Nanna moaned, massaging her knee. ‘This damp weather does terrible things to my arthritis.’

  ‘Put that blanket over you to stay warm,’ Dora called over to her. ‘I’ll give your legs a rub later.’

  ‘Thank you, ducks. It’s nice to have someone useful about the place.’ Nanna glared at Bea and Lily.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Dora said, as she helped her mother untangle the paper chain. ‘Why don’t we invite old Mrs Price for Christmas? I don’t like to think of her all on her own in Griffin Street.’

  ‘Good idea,’ her mother agreed. ‘It can’t be very cheerful for her, living by herself with all those bombed-out houses around her. I’ll pop down and see her.’

  ‘I could go,’ Dora offered. ‘I said I’d stop and have a cup of tea with her this week.’ She liked to keep an eye on the old lady.
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br />   Bea pulled a face. ‘Does she have to come?’ she asked. ‘I wanted to invite Hank for Christmas dinner.’

  Dora and her mother looked at each other. They’d heard a great deal about the mysterious GI over the past few months, but they had never been allowed to meet him.

  ‘I just thought it would be nice for him,’ Bea answered their unspoken question. ‘He’s such a long way from home, he deserves a few home comforts.’

  ‘I dunno about home comforts!’ Rose smiled. ‘If this Christmas is anything like the last one we’ll be lucky if we can find a rabbit and some veg off the allotment for our Christmas dinner.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right,’ Bea said carelessly. ‘I expect he’ll bring extra rations with him.’

  Mabel’s eyes gleamed greedily. ‘Will there be chocolate?’

  ‘And sweets?’ Little Winnie chimed in.

  ‘Of course,’ Bea shrugged. ‘Hank can get his hands on anything he wants.’

  ‘Including you,’ Lily muttered, then yelped with pain as Bea tugged hard on her hair.

  ‘Oh, sorry. Did I wind that curl too tight?’ Bea’s face was the picture of innocence.

  ‘I’m not sure I like the idea of a Yank here for Christmas,’ Nanna declared. ‘And if he does come, I ain’t going to be putting the flags out. He’ll have to take us as he finds us. And you needn’t think I’m putting my teeth in for him, neither,’ she said, glaring round at them all.

  ‘Ooh no, Nanna. We’d never think that,’ Dora smiled. ‘We know you only get them out on special occasions.’

  ‘I don’t think I can even remember the last time she put them in . . .’ Rose paused, trying to think.

  ‘I think it was the Coronation,’ Dora said.

  ‘No, it was the day the king came to visit the East End,’ her mother corrected her. ‘Do you remember, she put them in just in case His Majesty dropped round for a cup of tea?’

  ‘You two can laugh, but there’s nothing wrong with showing a bit of respect!’ Nanna folded her arms across her bosom. ‘And just so you all know, I ain’t putting them in again until the day we win this war!’

  ‘Let’s hope that won’t be too long,’ Rose sighed. ‘It’ll be lovely to have everyone round the table again for Christmas, just like the old days.’