Lovely Lane-04

by Nadine Dorries

  Tappsy frowned with concern. ‘You’ve been working hard all day long – you’re tired.’

  ‘I have,’ said Matron. ‘And do you know what… How many years have I been nursing?’

  Tappsy frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Me neither. Anyway, the point is, this has been my best Christmas Day in this hospital ever – and I’ve spent it with you.’

  The two women shared a long and knowing look.

  ‘I’m not going to get better, am I?’ said Tappsy.

  Night Sister stepped back out of the pool of light and into the shadows, the clean draw sheet in her arms. It was obvious that time was running out. This time, these words, they were important. The draw sheet could wait.

  ‘Of course you are. You have me looking after you night and day. Do you think I’m going to let anything else happen to you? I want you up soon and running about this ward, just as you have been for all these years. There’s more for both of us to do, you know. This place would go to rack and ruin without us. Imagine!’

  Tappsy’s smile was feeble as she grasped Matron’s hand. Her grip was weakening, but she held on. ‘Thank you, Margaret. Thank you. It was my best Christmas Day ever, too. Since my sister died, I’ve had to live with the guilt. All these years, you know, I knew what I’d done.’ Silent tears rolled down Tappsy’s cheeks. ‘Do you think she’ll forgive me for being a terrible person, for not being there?’

  ‘Oh, Tappsy…’ For the first time ever, Matron used the nickname so familiar to everyone else. ‘Of course she will. She has already. She knew you and what you were like. She knew you because she was your sister and she loved you without question. Of course she does. Would you have forgiven her if the boot was on the other foot?’

  Tappsy nodded without any hesitation.

  ‘Well, there you are then. You’ve answered your own question.’ Matron suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine. A coolness had entered their space. They were speaking of an angel and she felt the flutter of her wings. ‘Come on, you, we need to settle you down, and I’m not going to call Dessie, or rather Father Christmas – I’ve packed him off home. We will do this all ourselves. I want to bank that fire up before we have our supper.’ Matron slipped off the bed and back on to her feet.

  ‘Matron…’ said Tappsy.

  Matron smiled down at her. ‘I think it’s Margaret here, Olive. There’s only us and Night Sister, who is helping herself to another sausage roll.’

  ‘Margaret, can I have Blackie on my bed tonight? I don’t want to be alone.’

  ‘You can – that will be his canine dream come true. And you aren’t alone, we are just over here, not even two yards away, sat by the fire watching you all night. We won’t be taking our eyes off you, but I will be in that chair over there, because I don’t want to keep you awake.’

  Night Sister appeared in the light, no longer holding the draw sheet but with three glasses of sherry perched on a tray.

  ‘What a flipping good idea,’ said Matron.

  ‘Ooh, lovely. Isn’t this exciting,’ said Tappsy. But the excitement was no longer in her voice and Matron picked up on it immediately. Even so, there was no stopping Tappsy as she picked up her glass. ‘My first ever,’ she said as she sniffed at it. ‘Do you know what, I think I’m going to like this.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Night Sister, ‘I’m going to put the carols back on that record player. Give me a minute.’

  Tappsy took her first sip of sherry and licked her lips, obviously pleased with the experience. The music crackled into life and the smooth tones of the King’s College Choir filled the air.

  ‘I can’t believe this is your first sherry,’ said Night Sister. ‘Did you never just fancy a little try of it? Just look what you’ve been missing.’

  And without them knowing where it went, time passed. The snow fell outside and the clock in the warm ward ticked on towards midnight. Matron repeatedly banked up the fire, and Tappsy looked radiant as she sipped her sherry and talked about Laura, and the children she’d cared for, and her sister Edith and their childhood singing of the very carols that were on the record player. ‘That was my sister’s favourite,’ she said. ‘She was the better singer of the two of us.’ She recalled her memories one by one, and Matron and Night Sister refilled their glasses and listened to every word.

  Dr Mackintosh stuck his head around the door just as they’d finished. ‘How’s my favourite patient?’ he asked. ‘I was just heading back to the doctors’ residence and thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing before I turn in.’

  ‘Well, you can see for yourself,’ said Matron. ‘She couldn’t be better,’ she lied.

  ‘Can I have a little listen to your heart and see how things are going?’ he asked, and Matron felt as though the magic of the day had vanished with his words.

  She had nothing good to report. Tappsy’s urine output had dropped to almost zero and her abdomen had slowly distended during the day. In the past half hour she’d noticed the scratching returning, and the breathlessness. Tappsy’s spirit had won the day and yet Matron knew they were on borrowed hours.

  Half an hour later, Tappsy had been examined, washed and tucked up in the cleanest sheets and the warmest blankets. She lay on her side, scratching and grimacing, with Blackie doing his duty, curled up next to her.

  Matron stood in the clean utility with Dr Mackintosh as Night Sister tidied up. ‘Give her this,’ he said in the firmest voice as he handed Matron the syringe.

  Matron’s face was set. ‘But she’s doing so well and—’

  ‘Matron…’ Dr Mackintosh stopped her with nothing more than the gravity of his voice. ‘Someone riddled with tumours the size of hers is not going to get better, I can assure you. I have palpated her abdomen and nothing has changed. Look at her, she’s already relapsing from when I walked on to the ward just minutes ago.’ He glanced up and looked Matron in the eyes. ‘She’s had a wonderful day and she has risen to the occasion. You know as well as I do that this can often happen just before the end.’

  Matron looked over. Tappsy was scratching at her skin again, which was a sign that the diamorphine had worn off and the pain was returning. The dose that Dr Mackintosh was giving her to administer was larger than what Tappsy had been having so far. It was an act of kindness and it happened all the time with terminally ill patients – but this was a patient Matron knew and loved. She took the enamel kidney dish from his hand and he didn’t miss the fact that hers was shaking. As she approached the bed and saw Tappsy tearing at her skin, her face contorted with the sudden searing pain, Matron knew he was right. They would give her enough diamorphine to keep her under. She would not rally again, she would not be able to. There would be no more conversations or smiles or happy memories to reveal. It was now just a question of time.

  *

  It was almost dawn when Maura Doherty woke with a start and lifted herself up on to her pillows.

  ‘What’s up love?’ asked Tommy, rousing. Angela’s breathing problems meant they were both light sleepers, always alert, even when asleep. Both had been delighted that day to see the progress Angela had made and even more delighted to be told she would be back home within the week when her course of antibiotics had finished and her breathing was fully back to normal. Both were more worried about Sister Tapps.

  ‘That poor woman,’ Maura whispered. ‘She looked so awful, but wasn’t it lovely, the way everyone was with her.’ Tommy reached out an arm and took hold of Maura’s hand.

  ‘It was, but look where she is, in the best place to get better. Our Kitty is more bothered about her now than she is about our Angela.’

  Maura shuffled back down the bed and lay her head on his shoulder, already feeling sleepy once more. She had chilled from being on the outside of the blankets and he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her as she turned her face towards him. ‘Kitty made her a card, I’m going to drop it into Kathleen, and ask her to give it to her friend, Biddy, to pass on to Sister Tapps, just so sh
e knows Kitty was thinking about her. We all are, I mean, surely the woman knows, she’s a legend with every family on these streets.’

  *

  Dessie Horton was the only night porter on duty. He wouldn’t let any of the lads miss their Christmas night, but he was at home, tucked up next to his warm Emily when he woke to the sound of the house phone ringing out. It was 4 a.m. His was the only house on the street to have a phone and that had been at Matron’s insistence.

  He crept back into the bedroom and tried not to wake Emily, but it was no use. ‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘Who was that? It’s not Louis is it?’

  They had talked again about Louis only a few hours previously. About the fact that he would be leaving the ward in a matter of weeks and would be transferred to the children’s home. Emily had left Dessie in no doubt that she would like them both, as Mr and Mrs Horton, to be the couple to adopt him, if the police failed to find his mother.

  Dessie planted a kiss on her forehead. She could feel the tremble in his lips, which transferred to his voice when he spoke. ‘It’s not about Louis. It was Matron on the phone – it’s Tappsy, Emily. She’s gone.’

  Emily didn’t speak; she couldn’t. She swallowed hard and turned her head to the window and the snowfall, now silent and heavy. Death was no stranger to Emily.

  ‘I’ll be about an hour,’ he said as he sat on the side of the bed to fasten his boots. ‘I’ll transfer her to the mortuary myself, with Matron. I want to.’ Emily reached out and took his hand. ‘Make sure Matron keeps her belt buckle safe, her angel wings. She can give it to Laura to remember her by.’

  Dessie nodded. ‘I will. I’ll go now.’ She lay perfectly still and heard the latch on the back gate drop. She wouldn’t sleep until he returned.

  Through the gloom of the struggling dawn, she watched as the snow gathered around the window’s edge and her mind wandered back over the day and the hours they had spent with Tappsy, surrounded by children and in the company of her beloved Laura. She smiled as she replayed little Jonny’s words in her head. Staring at the golden figurine on top of the ward three Christmas tree, he’d looked a bit puzzled, and then he’d said, ‘But that’s not a real angel, is it? She’s not smiling and she hasn’t got white hair and a blue dress. She’s not like Sister Tapps. My mummy said Sister Tapps is a right proper angel.’

  ‘She is now,’ whispered Emily as the stars faded to allow the morning through. ‘She is now.’

  We hope you enjoyed this book.

  Nadine Dorries’ next book, The Blue Velvet Ribbon, is coming in spring 2018

  Find out more

  For more information, click the following links

  The Real Christmas Decorating Competition

  About Nadine Dorries

  About The Lovely Lane Series

  About The Four Streets Trilogy

  Also by Nadine Dorries

  Sign up for Notes from Nadine

  From the Editor of this Book

  An Invitation from the Publisher

  The Real Christmas Decorating Competition

  In 1952 the Nursing Times held a nationwide Christmas competition in search of the best-decorated hospital ward. It was the early days of the NHS and the competition may have been conceived as a way of uniting the nation’s hospitals that had been corralled together under one executive roof.

  Many hospitals and wards responded to the initiative. One of the runners-up was the long gone Liverpool’s Southern Hospital with an entry from the Robert Jones Ward, with a theme entitled ‘Christmas in the Stratosphere’. The ward was named after the pioneering Liverpool-trained orthopaedic surgeon Sir Robert Jones. Any nurses reading this who had the privilege to work in either the Southern or the Northern, will recognize the descriptions of the wards with the bays, day rooms and central fireplaces.

  The decorating competition is only a small part of the Christmas Angels story, but it is my way of capturing the atmosphere in hospitals such as my own fictional St Angelus and conveying some of the very real excitement, effort and love that the nurses and the children used to put into making the wards look so special at Christmas time.

  About Nadine Dorries

  NADINE DORRIES grew up in a working-class family in Liverpool. She trained as a nurse herself, then followed with a successful career in the health industry in which she established and then sold her own business. She has been the MP for Mid-Bedfordshire since 2005 and has three daughters.

  Find me on Facebook

  About The Lovely Lane Series

  It is 1953 and five very different girls are arriving at the nurses’ home in Lovely Lane, Liverpool, to start their training at St Angelus Hospital.

  Dana has escaped from her family farm on the west coast of Ireland. Victoria is running away from a debt-ridden aristocratic background. Beth is an army brat and throws in her lot with bitchy Celia Forsyth. And Pammy has come from quite the wrong side of the tracks in Liverpool.

  Now they find themselves in a very different world. From formidable Matron, to terrifying Sister Antrobus. From kind housekeeper, Mrs Duffy, to Dessie, who rules the porter’s lads – not to mention the doctors, who range from crusty to glamorous. Everyone has their place at St Angelus and woe betide anyone who strays from it.

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Coming soon…

  Find out more

  Visit Head of Zeus now

  About The Four Streets Trilogy

  In the tight-knit Irish Catholic community of the Four Streets, two girls are growing up.

  One is motherless – and hated by the cold woman who is determined to take her dead mother’s place. The other is hiding a dreadful secret which she dare not let slip to anyone, lest it rips the heart out of the community.

  What can the people of the Four Streets do when a betrayal at the very heart of their world comes to light?

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Also available in a single omnibus edition:

  Find out more

  Visit Head of Zeus now

  Also by Nadine Dorries

  NOVELS

  Find out more

  Find out more

  SHORT STORIES

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Visit Head of Zeus now

  Newsletter

  From the Editor of this Book

  If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy reading these novels recommended by the editor.

  Find out More

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Visit Head of Zeus now

  An Invitation from the Publisher

  We hope you enjoyed this book. We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling. Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of book-lovers.

  We will keep you up to date with our latest books, author blogs, special previews, tempting offers, chances to win signed editions and much more.

  Get in touch: hello@headofzeus.com

  Visit Head of Zeus now

  Find us on Twitter

  Find us on Facebook

  Find us on BookGrail

  First published in the UK in 2017 by Head of Zeus, Ltd.

  Copyright © Nadine Dorries, 2017

  The moral right of Nadine Dorries to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

>   9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN (HB): 9781784975166

  ISBN (ANZTPB): 9781784975173

  ISBN (E): 9781784975159

  Author photo: © Cassie Dorries

  Images: © Colin Thomas and Shutterstock.com

  Head of Zeus Ltd

  First Floor East

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  www.headofzeus.com