by Cathy Sharp
Beatrice allowed herself to be helped back into bed. She felt foolish for making a show of herself, and made no attempt to excuse what she’d done or give a reason for it. Closing her eyes, she lay back against the pillow. She felt the sting of tears behind her lids but she would not let them fall. She would not allow herself to cry, even if she did feel weak and old and alone.
Her action had been one of compassion; it was what she did, and she wanted to be able to do it again, to be back at St Saviour’s where she was needed and appreciated. To be loved was too much to expect, but at times she had felt loved when she nursed a sick child back to health. That old lady had been grateful for her kindness and Beatrice knew that her impulse to help had been right, but she wasn’t strong enough yet. She could only pray that she would recover her old stamina and be able to return to the job she loved … assuming they still wanted her. If Angela was coping well, they might think it was time Beatrice retired …
Angela had paused for the first time that morning, grateful for the tray of tea Nan had carried up to her room. She invited Nan to share, but the head carer shook her head, hovering in the doorway.
‘Not this time, Angela. I know how busy you are and I’ve got a lot on myself today. It’s just I wanted to say that I visited Beatrice again last night and the nurses told me she’d had a fall the previous day. They were concerned as she got out of bed for no reason – though she told me she went to help one of the other patients.’
‘Yes, that is exactly the sort of thing she would do if someone was calling out and the nurses weren’t about. Did she harm herself?’
‘No, but they said she was very tired. The thing is, I think she wants to see you – she’s been fretting about it.’
‘I’ve been putting it off because I didn’t think the hospital were keen on her having too many visitors and I didn’t want to upset or tire her,’ Angela said. ‘If I’d known she would fret, I’d have called in much sooner.’
‘I’m sure it would set her mind at rest if you were able to drop by. I keep telling her everything is fine here, but you know how she worries.’
‘Well, I’ll pop in and see how she is this evening – take her some fruit and a few flowers. Are you going tonight?’
‘I won’t if you are,’ Nan said. ‘They don’t like too many people round the beds, and she will want to talk to you, I’m sure.’
‘Well, it sounds as if she’s on the mend at least,’ Angela said. ‘If she made the effort to get out to attend to that patient, she must be feeling more like her old self. She shouldn’t have done it, but it wouldn’t have been Sister Beatrice if she hadn’t, would it?’
‘No, I don’t suppose it would,’ Nan said, still hesitating. ‘I told you once that St Saviour’s is my life these days, but I do have some outside interests … The thing is, I don’t think Beatrice does. There’s the convent, naturally, but she needs more than that.’
‘Yes, I dare say you’re right. You know her better than anyone.’ Angela looked thoughtful. ‘Mark said something the other evening when we had a meal and I think perhaps he’s got a point. There’s something I ought to make clear to her …’
‘She needs to feel wanted here.’
Angela nodded her agreement. ‘She is needed here, Nan – and she has to get well again so that she can return to us.’
Sister Beatrice was relaxing back against her pillows, her eyes shut, as Angela approached the bed. She opened them when Angela reached her and a flicker of uncertainty showed in her face.
‘Angela, it’s good of you to visit,’ she said, a little stiffly.
‘I thought you might like some grapes – and this magazine. It’s about gardening. There are lovely photographs …’
Sister Beatrice waved an impatient hand, dismissing the magazine and grapes. ‘What is happening at St Saviour’s – is everything as it ought to be?’
‘We are managing. We’ve had some new arrivals, but they were quite healthy, though a bit malnourished,’ Angela told her. ‘I think everything is ticking over nicely, but there are certain things that will need your attention when you’re well enough to return.’
‘Indeed? Is something wrong?’ Beatrice sat forward, an eagerness about her that hadn’t been there moments earlier.
‘Oh no, nothing wrong, but I’m worried about the May twins. Samantha told Wendy that her aunt didn’t want Sarah, that she might try to put her in an institution for the mentally retarded.’
Beatrice frowned. ‘But Nan said she had taken both children? The Welfare people made an order in her favour, didn’t they? I was given to understand the aunt wanted them the morning I was taken ill, but I’d hoped you might have managed to change their minds. As it happens one of the mothers I visit from time to time had previously mentioned Miss May in passing and not in complimentary terms. I had hoped to discuss the situation with you more fully …’
‘Ah, I see, that explains your anxiety concerning them when you became so suddenly ill. I was given only a couple of hours’ notice and there was nothing I could do once the order was in place – I had no idea at that time that Samantha was fearful of her aunt. She’d told Wendy but Wendy didn’t think to tell me all of it – until it was too late …’
‘I’m not sure what you could have done even if you had known,’ Beatrice said. ‘Maybe the child’s experience has made her wary. Besides, surely the woman wouldn’t take the child from us and then abandon her?’
‘We’ve seen worse, haven’t we? Perhaps agreeing to take both was the only way she could have Samantha. She was very sharp with Sarah when she took them away – with both of them, really – but she obviously had no patience with Sarah. I presume that the Children’s Welfare will have followed things up, but I wondered if I should go round to the house and make sure they are all right.’
‘It may be the only way – we cannot allow that child to be incarcerated in one of those dreadful places.’ Beatrice shook her head. ‘It would be a crime – you must not allow it, Angela.’
‘I shall certainly do what I can to help the twins. Whom do you suggest I should contact in the event an attempt is made to put Sarah away?’
‘Do not wait for the aunt to act – you must pre-empt her,’ Sister Beatrice told her authoritatively. ‘We must make a case for having the twins in our care permanently. Write a report and get Mr Adderbury to give his opinion on the child. You’ll have to deal with the council or possibly the magistrates, and they will doubtless have their own views on the matter.’
Angela nodded. ‘I’ll compose the report and type it up tomorrow. Would you be willing to put your signature to it?’
‘Absolutely.’ Sister Beatrice sighed and leaned back against the pillows once more. ‘I wish I could be of more help, Angela – but this affair has pulled me down more than I realised.’
‘You mustn’t worry. Mark will help me,’ Angela assured her. ‘But you’re sorely missed, Sister. Everyone keeps telling me you would do this or that, and they’re all eager to have you back.’
‘Are they really?’ Beatrice gave her a straight look. ‘I know what you’re doing, Angela. It is extremely thoughtful and kind – but I dare say you have everything under control.’
‘Even so, I would appreciate your advice. It is reassuring to have the benefit of your experience. We’ve been asked if we’ll take in a young boy – a victim of polio. His father is away at sea and his mother is too ill to care for him, but it would only be until the father returns and can make alternative arrangements. He needs special treatment, so it would make more work for our nurses—’
‘Naturally, we must take him. He is precisely the kind of child that needs us – but you knew that …’
‘Yes, but please remember I can’t do everything, any more than you could before I was appointed. It’s a two-woman job, Sister. Besides, I shall need you to fight my corner quite soon …’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think someone wants to move St Saviour’s away from London – and I don’
t trust his motives. He speaks of building huge new premises in the country, and it all sounds wonderful, but I sense something is wrong. I want you there with me if it comes to a fight to save our home, to keep it where it should be in Halfpenny Street.’
A spark of her old energy showed in Sister Beatrice’s eyes. ‘I would never allow them to close St Saviour’s, not while I have a say in it,’ she said. ‘Don’t they understand that we need to be where we are, in the streets where those children live? Take them away from the place they belong and you will destroy a part of them.’
‘Yes, that is what I feel, Sister,’ Angela said. She smiled at her colleague. ‘We may have our differences, but we stand united on this, don’t we? St Saviour’s will always be needed in London, no matter what happens elsewhere. Even if in the future they do build that new place, we should continue in Halfpenny Street, perhaps as a halfway house if nothing more.’
‘On this we are united,’ Sister Beatrice said, taking the hand Angela offered and gripping it strongly. ‘I shall return as soon as my body has healed. The spirit is as strong as ever, Angela, even if I have been given a salutary lesson that I am a mere mortal.’
‘I wouldn’t say mere,’ Angela replied, smiling. ‘At St Saviour’s we all believe you are superhuman!’
EIGHTEEN
‘Good morning,’ Nan said when they met in the hallway two days after Angela’s visit to Sister Beatrice at the hospital. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you – there’s someone waiting for you in the staff rest room. I put her in there, as I didn’t think you would want her to wait in your office. I did tell her she should have made an appointment, and I told her you might be a while, but she insisted on waiting – so I gave them a cup of tea and some biscuits.’
‘Them?’ Angela’s fine brows rose. ‘More than one visitor is waiting?’
‘It’s that Miss May, and she’s brought Sarah with her. Sarah looks as if she’s been crying, and I think she’s frightened …’
‘I’d better go to them right away. Thank you, Nan,’ Angela said, quickening her stride. At the mention of the May twins’ aunt she had a cold sensation at the nape of her neck that told her there was something wrong. On reaching the rest room she paused in the doorway to survey the scene before entering. Sarah was standing with her thumb in her mouth, staring vacantly into space, while Miss May perched on the edge of her seat looking impatient. She stood up hastily as Angela entered.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It would’ve been better to make an appointment—’
‘I haven’t time for messing about,’ Miss May snapped, her features cold and disdainful. ‘I can’t cope with this child. Her father called her a Child of Satan and that’s exactly what she—’
‘Miss May! That is not appropriate language to use about Sarah – I would ask you to have more care for her feelings.’
‘She doesn’t know what I say.’
‘We found Sarah intelligent enough, though somewhat reticent—’
‘Well, here she is then.’ The woman glared at Angela defiantly, pushing the child towards her. ‘I’ve brought her back to you while her sister is at school; Samantha is strong-willed and she would kick up such a fuss if she knew – but I’ve had enough of this one and that’s the truth.’
‘Sarah was never any trouble here,’ Angela objected. She saw the woman’s mouth twist sourly and felt a surge of anger. ‘What has she done that’s so terrible?’
‘She’s stubborn and wicked, that’s what she is,’ Miss May said furiously. ‘She deliberately broke my Copeland vase – threw it down in a tantrum. And that’s not all. She’s wet the bed, knocked orange juice all over my best tablecloth, and left the lavatory without pulling the chain – and she won’t wash herself unless Samantha stands over her. I need Samantha to help me in the mornings, not spend her time running after this sinful girl.’
‘This is highly irregular. The Children’s Welfare officer will have to be informed and I’m sure they will want to discuss it with you.’ Angela wanted the woman to understand that sending a child back to the home was a serious matter.
‘I’ll tell them precisely what I’ve told you: this one’s a wrong ’un and no mistake.’ Miss May’s mouth was set in a thin line; clearly she would brook no argument.
‘Well, we shall certainly take Sarah back,’ Angela said and reached for the girl’s hand. Sarah glanced up as she took it and she smiled and nodded to her, before turning to look at her aunt once more. ‘You’ll have to sign that you’re willing to let Sarah return to St Saviour’s, and that you relinquish your rights to her.’ Angela knew she would have to square it with the Welfare people, but if she could get this awful woman to sign that she didn’t want Sarah, perhaps they would accept that she was better off with them at St Saviour’s.
‘Give me the paper and I’ll sign. I’ve no more time to waste on the ungrateful child. My brother always said she wasn’t right in the head – singing those strange songs.’
‘It’s a French lullaby, I think,’ Angela said. ‘Was her mother French by any chance?’
‘What has that got to do with anything? She died straight after this horrible girl was born.’ Miss May scribbled her signature on the form Angela produced and glared at the child, who was crying silently. ‘There’s no need to bawl, Sarah. You’re back where you wanted to be, so stop your grizzling.’
‘Sarah want Samantha,’ Sarah said, before putting her thumb back in her mouth.
‘Well, you’ll have to want in vain. I’ll leave her to you now – and I hope you have better luck with her, Mrs Morton. The child is an imbecile, if you ask my opinion.’
‘I didn’t,’ Angela said and restrained herself from saying something she might regret. ‘Sarah will be safe and looked after here. We should be glad to have her sister, too, if you wish to return her. It’s cruel to separate them.’
If looks could kill, Angela would have been instantly slain, but Miss May turned tail and flounced out angrily without another word.
Sarah’s tears continued to slide down her cheeks as Angela wiped them with her handkerchief and wondered what she should do next. If only Sister Beatrice had been here; she would have dealt with the situation so much better. Still, at least one sister was safe now. Angela had seen enough of Miss May to know that poor Samantha could not possibly be happy in her care.
‘It’s all right now, love. You’re here with us. Let’s go and find Staff Nurse Wendy,’ she said, offering her hand to the child. Sarah considered and then nodded, sliding her hand into Angela’s. ‘You like Wendy, don’t you?’
Sarah nodded, but didn’t answer. Angela’s heart wrenched at the sight of her distress; she wished she could have told that awful woman what she really thought of her, but she’d been afraid she would exercise her right as the child’s legal guardian and snatch Sarah back. Thank goodness she hadn’t taken her off to a mental institution. She probably would have, if not for the paperwork and effort involved: two doctors were required to give their agreement before the papers could be signed, and Jane May wasn’t the kind of woman who would waste her energy or money on such an enterprise. Instead she’d chosen to dump Sarah back at St Saviour’s, and Angela could only rejoice that she had taken the easy way out.
‘But what about Samantha?’ Wendy asked when Angela brought Sarah to her. ‘Isn’t she coming back too? Sarah won’t settle without her.’
‘Miss May seems determined to keep her,’ Angela said. ‘I’m not happy about the situation, Wendy, but for the moment there is nothing I can do except let the Welfare people know. I promise you I do not intend to leave it there though. I’ll seek advice from the authorities and see what more can be done.’
‘Why send one back without the other? I don’t understand …’
‘I think Miss May has a use for Samantha. She mentioned needing her help in the mornings.’
‘You think she wants the child to wait on her?’ Wendy was horrified. ‘Samantha isn’t old enough to look after anyone, except perhaps her sist
er – she ought to be with people who will love her and care for her.’
‘I agree with you,’ Angela said, ‘but Miss May has the law on her side, so I can’t force her to surrender the child to me.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Wendy said. ‘But it doesn’t seem right – you only have to look at Sarah sitting there, rocking herself. She’s distraught.’
‘Perhaps now she’s with people she knows and trusts, and once she’s had something to eat …’ But deep down, Angela shared Wendy’s anxiety. Sarah relied so heavily on Samantha; how would she manage without her twin.
And how would Samantha manage, living with an unfeeling aunt and no sister to love?
‘Sarah like Nurse Wendy,’ the child said, and slipped her hand into Wendy’s as she finished dressing her in a clean skirt and blouse, and turned her to brush and plait her hair. Sarah’s hair had grown very long and Samantha had told Wendy before that her sister had always wanted it done in a long plait at the back. ‘Wendy not go away?’
Wendy’s throat caught as she saw the yearning appeal in the young girl’s eyes. Sarah was such a beautiful child, with her pale hair, wide, innocent blue eyes and clear complexion, and the idea that anyone would want to hurt her was beyond Wendy’s comprehension.
‘No, I’m not going anywhere,’ Wendy said, and squeezed Sarah’s hand. ‘I’m going to take you down to Nancy. You like Nancy, don’t you? She came and told you stories – do you remember?’
Sarah nodded and sucked her thumb. Her aunt was a cruel woman to abandon her here, separating her from her sister and implying that she was an imbecile. Wendy knew she wasn’t stupid; she’d listened avidly to Nancy’s stories, particularly the ones about the Big Hairy Spider who vanquished giants and looked after lost children.
Looking at Sarah now, so lost without the person she loved, reminded Wendy of her own loss. Jim Bracknell had been her feller for such a brief time. They’d hardly got to know each other before he was shipped off to France, only to fall at Dunkirk.
