She would have fled then if she could, but Christopher held on to her hand so firmly she could feel her brand-new engagement ring cutting into her finger.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he jumped in first. ‘The thing is, Auntie Nell, we’ve got some news. We’re engaged.’
Beyond them, in the street, a pot mender went by on his bicycle, his tools clanking as he pedalled. Further down, someone whistled tunelessly. All around them life went on, while in the tiny square of sunlit backyard, time seemed to have stopped completely.
‘Oh!’ Nellie wiped her soapy hands on her apron. Helen couldn’t meet her eye but she could feel the older woman’s gaze on her. She was afraid to look at her, worried she would see her own shame reflected in her mother-in-law’s face.
Why had she done this? Why had she let Christopher persuade her this was a good idea? She wanted to blurt out that it had all been a terrible mistake, that she had got carried away by her own happiness, that she’d never meant to betray Charlie.
Because that was what she’d done – betrayed him. And she’d betrayed his family, too. The very people who had taken her in and treated her as one of their own.
She was so consumed with her own guilt and misery, she hardly knew what was happening when Nellie rushed to her, gathering her in her arms.
‘Oh, my love, that’s smashing news. I’m so pleased for you.’
Helen stayed rigid, crushed against Nellie’s pillowy bosom. She smelled of Sunlight soap.
Christopher nudged her. ‘I told you she’d be pleased, didn’t I?’ he grinned.
‘Of course I’m pleased. Come into the kitchen, I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Celebrate with a cup of tea? You must be joking!’ Christopher looked scornful. ‘I reckon Helen could do with a nip of brandy,’ he said, grinning. ‘She was nearly fainting dead away with nerves about telling you.’
‘Was she?’ Helen cringed under Nellie’s curious gaze.
‘She reckoned you wouldn’t approve of us getting wed.’
Helen caught Nellie’s eye, feeling helpless. It was as if she were sitting on a galloping horse, trying to slow it down but not knowing how. All she could do was cling on and hope for the best.
‘Tell you what, Chris, why don’t you go down to the pub and fetch a jug of beer?’ said Nellie, her eyes still fixed on Helen. ‘I’ll finish this washing and get it hung up for when you come back. You could give me a hand if you like, Helen?’
Christopher let himself out through the back gate. Helen listened to him sauntering down the street, whistling.
‘He’s happy, ain’t he?’ Nellie said. ‘Like the cat that got the cream.’ She smiled. ‘Come on, you rinse this lot through for me, then we’ll put them through the mangle.’
Helen rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in, rinsing the soapy clothes in a big galvanised tub of cold water. Perspiration cooled the back of her neck as she laboured in the spring sunshine, but she was glad of something to do. If she had to have a heart-to-heart with her mother-in-law, it was far better if they were both occupied.
It wasn’t long before Nellie spoke up. ‘When did all this come about, then? I didn’t even know you two were courting?’
‘Christopher came to the hospital with a dislocated shoulder just after Christmas,’ Helen said, not looking up from her work. ‘He asked me to go out with him on New Year’s Eve, and it all started from there.’
‘Well, I never. I knew he was going out with someone, but I had no idea it was you. I thought it must be a local girl.’
Helen flicked a quick, anxious glance at her. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Mind? Bless you, love, why should I mind? You’re both over twenty-one, you can do as you please.’
‘I know, but I was just worried . . . I didn’t want you to think I was betraying Charlie’s memory, or anything like that?’
Nellie sighed. ‘Our Charlie is past caring, God rest his soul,’ she said. ‘And as for me, I’m just happy you’re happy. Didn’t I say you should find someone else? You can’t mourn Charlie for ever.’
‘I know,’ Helen said. ‘I suppose I just feel guilty for being so happy.’
‘If anyone deserves a bit of happiness it’s you, my love.’ But then a troubled expression crossed Nellie’s face and she said, ‘You are happy, ain’t you?’
‘Of course,’ Helen said. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘I’m just worried it’s all happening a bit quick, that’s all. You ain’t known each other long, have you?’
‘Chris wanted us to get engaged before he went back to sea.’
‘That sounds like our Chris! When he sets his sights on something, he generally can’t wait until he gets it. Act first, think later—’ Nellie stopped abruptly. ‘Not that I’m saying this is too quick or anything . . .’
‘No, you’re right. It is very sudden. But it’s what I want,’ Helen said firmly. If she stopped to think about it, she might allow the doubts to creep in and ruin everything. Christopher told her she thought too much, and he was quite right.
Besides, the sooner she married him, the quicker she could start her happy new life.
Nellie straightened up, massaging the small of her back. ‘As long as you’re sure, that’s all that matters. Now let’s get all this through the mangle, shall we?’
Helen fed the clothes through the giant rollers while Nellie turned the handle, squeezing out the water, which dripped into a tin tub at their feet. Helen felt more relaxed now she knew Nellie wasn’t angry with her.
As they worked, they chatted about the wedding. Nellie asked her all kinds of questions about her dress, and her bridesmaids, and where they would get married, and Helen laughingly confessed she hadn’t had time to think about it at all.
‘And what does your mother think of all this?’
Helen blushed. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’
Nellie sent her a shrewd look. ‘Don’t you think you should? She’s bound to have something to say about it.’
That’s what I’m afraid of, Helen thought. She didn’t want her mother bursting her bubble of happiness before she’d had time to enjoy it.
‘Well, I’m glad for you anyway,’ Nellie said. ‘Chris is a nice lad, and he’ll look after you. And it’s about time he settled down,’ she went on. ‘Marriage could be the making of him.’
Helen watched her as she picked up the basket of damp washing and hauled it over the washing line. Nellie’s comment troubled her, although she didn’t know why.
Helen took her engagement ring out of her pocket and slipped it back on her finger, admiring it as it sparkled in the sunshine.
‘It’s a beauty,’ Nellie commented from the other side of the yard. ‘Bit different to that old scrap of silver paper my Charlie gave you, ain’t it?’
When they’d got engaged, Charlie was already in hospital fighting for his life. He’d given Helen a makeshift ring fashioned out of a twist of paper from a cigarette packet. He made up for it later, with a beautiful emerald that had once belonged to his grandmother. But Helen still treasured that silver-paper ring.
A thought struck her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think . . . do you want Charlie’s ring back? I know it belonged to your mother, and I’m not sure if it’s right for me to keep it now?’
‘Of course I want you to keep it, love.’ Nellie smiled at her. ‘Charlie gave it to you, and I know he’d want you to have it.’ She picked up Helen’s hand and gazed down at the diamonds and sapphires. ‘I must say, it seems peculiar, though, seeing you wearing another man’s ring.’
‘I know,’ Helen said. ‘It almost feels as if it shouldn’t be there.’
‘You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.’
‘I hope so.’
They were in the kitchen making tea when Christopher returned, a jug of beer in his hand, smiling broadly.
‘Sorry I took so long,’ he said. ‘I had to keep stopping to tell the neighbours our good news.’ He put his arm around Helen. ‘I suppose you tw
o have been talking about weddings, haven’t you?’
Helen shot a quick glance at Nellie
‘Never you mind what we’ve been talking about, young man,’ the older woman said briskly. ‘Fetch yourself a glass and get that beer poured before it goes flat.’
Helen and Nellie sipped tea while Christopher drank his beer. ‘Do you know when you’ll be getting wed?’ Nellie asked, then paled and added, ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to do it before you go back to sea tomorrow? I don’t think my poor old heart can take another shock!’
Christopher laughed. ‘Much as I’d like to, we wouldn’t be able to get a licence.’ He reached for Helen’s hand. ‘But I’d like to get married as soon as I can after I get back in the summer, I reckon.’
Helen stared at him. This was news to her. ‘Does it have to be so quick? I thought we might wait . . .’
‘You’ll get used to our Chris,’ Nellie chuckled. ‘Impulsive, that’s what he is.’
‘I ain’t impulsive, I just know what I want. Besides, I want to marry Helen before she gets the chance to change her mind!’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she murmured, blushing.
Christopher leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m happy to leave all the arrangements to you, love,’ he said. ‘It’s your special day, and I want you to have it just as you like. No expense spared!’
‘I’d rather just have a quiet wedding,’ she said.
‘You’re joking, ain’t you? I want this to be a day everyone remembers for years to come. The day Chris Dawson got wed to the best-looking girl in Bethnal Green!’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure you can sort out the arrangements later, when you’re back from sea,’ Nellie said quickly. She passed Helen a plate of biscuits. ‘I suppose you’re going to have to get used to him being away for weeks at a time,’ she said. ‘He’s never in the same place for long.’
Helen opened her mouth to reply, but Chris interrupted.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ he said. ‘The Merchant Navy’s no life for a married man. I don’t want to be stuck on a ship for weeks and months when I’ve got a wife and a family waiting for me at home.’
Helen put her cup down. ‘You’re giving up your job?’
‘Don’t look so surprised. You didn’t think I was going to abandon you once we’re married, did you?’ His thumb circled the gems on her finger. ‘I want to spend every minute I can with you,’ he said softly.
‘What are you going to do for a job, then?’ Nellie asked.
‘I reckon I might get myself a job at the docks. Or perhaps Uncle Harry might have something for me at his furniture factory?’
‘Where our Charlie worked, you mean?’ Nellie said slowly.
‘That’s right.’ Christopher swigged his beer. ‘I know Harry’s never had much time for me in the past but I reckon he’ll want to take me on once I’m a respectable family man, don’t you?’
‘I suppose so, love.’ Helen glanced at Nellie. She couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but her mother-in-law looked suddenly troubled.
Chapter Thirty-One
ADAM CAMPBELL WAS going home. The evening before, the Lady Almoner had been to visit him and Frannie had filled out his discharge slip, which had been signed by Mr Hobbs the consultant. That morning one of the nurses had cleaned out Adam’s locker and packed up his personal belongings, and Frannie had taken his watch and wallet from the safe for him.
‘Now, you understand what you’ve been told about coming back to Outpatients to get that bandage changed, don’t you?’ she said.
‘Yes, Sister,’ Adam replied solemnly.
‘And you’ve checked you have all your belongings? We wouldn’t want you to leave anything behind.’
‘I have everything.’ He held up the brown paper package Frannie had made up for him. ‘I suppose you’ll be glad not to see me again,’ he said in a quiet voice.
‘Heavens, why on earth should you think that?’
He looked at her ruefully. ‘I haven’t been the easiest patient, have I?’
‘It’s been – interesting,’ Frannie conceded. ‘But we’ll miss you.’ She smiled kindly at him.
‘Will you?’ His face brightened for a moment, and Frannie once again caught a glimpse of the lost, lonely little boy beneath his surly exterior.
‘Of course. Although I daresay I’ll see you at a Peace Society meeting sometime,’ she said.
‘I daresay you’ll see my father before you see me!’ he grinned. Then, with a glance at Frannie’s expression, he added, ‘Don’t worry, Sister, I won’t tell anyone! And I’m pleased for you both, honestly. If I’m going to have a stepmother I would rather it was you than anyone else!’
‘Mr Campbell!’ Frannie glanced around her in dismay to make sure none of her nurses was listening. But inside she couldn’t stop the bubble of happiness rising inside her.
She didn’t want to allow herself to think that far ahead, but the truth was she had been thinking more and more of what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with John Campbell. And she could tell he was thinking the same.
It was so strange that they should end up together, she reflected. If anyone had told her when she was a girl that she would fall for John Campbell, she would never have believed them. She liked him, but she hardly noticed him.
But then, it was hard to notice anyone else when Matthew was there. His bright dazzling presence cast everyone else into shadow.
Years on, however, Frannie could appreciate John Campbell for the good man that he was. Strangely, she felt as if they were better suited than she and Matthew had ever been. She and John spent their free time at galleries and museums or attending concerts. Matthew had never had any patience for what he scathingly called her ‘boring’ love of culture. Matthew always had to be the centre of everyone’s attention. John was still as quiet as he had always been, but Frannie realised now that he was more thoughtful and considered than shy.
Frannie knew she had fallen in love with him, but it was a deeper, more satisfying feeling than the heady, girlish infatuation she had felt for Matthew. She sometimes wondered what Matthew would have made of them, and whether he would have approved.
‘Speak of the devil,’ Adam said, nodding towards the doorway. Frannie turned, her heart lifting at the sight of John walking down the ward towards them with a suitcase in his hand.
‘Good morning, Major Campbell.’ Frannie sought his gaze, smiling.
‘Sister.’ He shot her a quick glance, then turned to his son. ‘Ready to go?’ he said gruffly.
‘I’ll leave you to get changed.’ Frannie nodded to a nurse to bring the screens from the other end of the ward, then returned to her desk.
She was called away to help adjust a patient’s splint. By the time she returned, Adam was emerging from behind the curtains, leaning heavily on his sticks, his father at his side.
She approached them, smiling. ‘All ready? I’ll walk you down to the doors. Got to see you safely off the premises,’ she said to Adam. ‘Hospital rules.’
He looked uncomfortable. ‘I was wondering, Sister – would it be possible to call in at Male Surgical on the way? There’s someone I want to say goodbye to,’ he said shyly.
She gave him a stern look. ‘I take it you mean Nurse O’Hara? You know nurses aren’t supposed to talk to men, don’t you? If Sister Holmes caught her . . .’ She saw his disappointed expression and smiled. ‘I’m just teasing you. I happen to know Sister Holmes is off duty this morning, so the coast will be clear. I’m sure we can make a quick trip there on the way. As long as you keep an eye out for Staff Nurse Lund,’ she warned.
‘Thank you, Sister. You’re a sport!’
They reached Holmes ward, and Adam limped off to find O’Hara.
‘Young love, eh?’ Frannie grinned at John. ‘I know it’s against the rules and I’m meant to discourage it, but I can’t help feeling it’s rather sweet. I’m just a born romantic, I suppose.’ She caught sight of his troubled expression and said, ‘You’
re very quiet today, John. Is everything all right?’
‘I have to go away,’ he blurted out.
‘Where?’
‘Wiltshire. I’ve been ordered down there to help with this compulsory military training they’re bringing in.’
Frannie suppressed a shudder. The news that all twenty- and twenty-one-year-old men were to be given six months’ compulsory training in weapons and combat had sickened her. But all the young men on the ward seemed very taken with the idea, and couldn’t wait to get their hands on a rifle. Everywhere Frannie went, she was driven mad listening to them boasting about how they were going to take on Hitler single-handed.
‘How long will you be gone?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know.’ John’s face was a blank mask. Unease curled in the pit of Frannie’s stomach. There was something he wasn’t telling her, she was certain of it.
‘I suppose you could always come back and visit?’ she suggested. ‘Or I could come and see you, if I have a free weekend?’
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know how much free time I’ll have. I’ll write to you.’
She looked up into his chilly green eyes and understood what he was trying to say to her. But she couldn’t quite believe it.
‘John?’ she could feel her smile wobbling uncertainly. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course.’ He directed the remark over the top of her head, his gaze still fixed in the direction his son had gone.
‘Are you sure? You seem very – distant.’
‘I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.’
Frannie looked up at him. His face was closed, his green eyes blank. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ she asked.
He didn’t reply at first. Frannie felt her bewilderment turning to anger. ‘John, if your feelings for me have changed, then at least have the goodness to tell me to my face,’ she said. ‘I deserve that at least, don’t you think? Coming up with some feeble excuse and then telling me you’ll write to me is cowardly, and you and I both know you’re hardly a coward.’
He hesitated. ‘You’re right,’ he agreed heavily. ‘You do deserve better than that, I’m sorry.’ His eyes met hers at last. ‘The truth is, this is very difficult for me, because I do have feelings for you. But I don’t think we should see each other any more.’
A Nightingale Christmas Wish Page 21
