A Nightingale Christmas Wish

by Donna Douglas

  Once she started to think about it, her imagination conjured up all kinds of possibilities. What if he was trapped somewhere and couldn’t get out? What if he’d had another accident? What if he was dead?

  The thoughts circled around and around in her head until Effie knew she wouldn’t rest until she found out for sure. Scrabbling around in the bottom of her purse, she found enough loose change for the bus fare to his lodgings in Pimlico.

  By the time she’d knocked on the door of the tall, white-pillared house where Adam lived, Effie’s thoughts were racing nineteen to the dozen. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he answered it.

  ‘Effie!’ He looked surprised to see her. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘We were supposed to be going to the pictures, remember?’

  His hand flew to his mouth. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘So you should be. I stood waiting for you for half an hour.’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘Well? You’d better have a good excuse, Adam Campbell.’

  She saw the uncomfortable expression flit across his face and instantly knew why he hadn’t come. A prickle of unease inched its way up her spine.

  ‘It’s Adeline, isn’t it?’ she said flatly. ‘She’s here.’

  He stared at her in astonishment. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Never mind,’ she dismissed the question. ‘What’s she doing here?’

  ‘She turned up a couple of hours ago, in tears. Richard’s memory came back this morning. He suddenly recalled everything – including what led up to the accident.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘He lost his temper with her, accused her of all sorts, practically threw her out on the street. So of course she came here. She was so upset, I couldn’t very well send her away, could I?’

  Couldn’t you? Effie thought. ‘I waited for you at the pictures,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time.’

  I’m sure you did, Effie thought. She could imagine Adam being so entranced by Adeline’s return that he’d forgotten everything else.

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘In my room.’ He nodded to a door off the main hall. ‘I’ve spent all afternoon comforting her. She’s utterly distraught, poor girl.’

  ‘I bet she is,’ Effie said coldly.

  He looked defensive. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry for standing you up. But this was an emergency, you must see that?’

  ‘You mean Adeline snaps her fingers and you come running like a lovesick puppy?’

  His face clouded. ‘It’s not like that. She’s a friend, naturally I wanted to help.’

  ‘Yes, I bet you couldn’t wait to be her knight in shining armour.’ Effie couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that—’

  ‘Who is it, Adam?’ Adeline’s light voice, with its delicate hint of an accent, drifted down the hallway. Before he could make a move to stop her, Effie barged past and followed the sound.

  In Adam’s sitting room, the last apricot rays of evening sun flooded in through the tall windows, falling like a spotlight around Adeline Moreau.

  She sat on the couch, a handkerchief pressed prettily to her eyes. When she saw Effie, her face fell. ‘Oh. It’s you.’

  ‘We were supposed to meet,’ Adam blurted out an explanation. ‘I didn’t turn up, and so Effie came to find me.’

  ‘I see. I’m sorry,’ Adeline said. But Effie was sure she caught a glint of satisfaction in those dark almond-shaped eyes. ‘Oh, Adam, I know I’m being the most dreadful nuisance,’ she sighed. ‘But truly, this was the only place I could think of to come,’ she whimpered, her lips trembling. ‘I – I didn’t know what else to do. I walked the streets for hours . . .’

  She looked very well turned out for someone who had spent hours walking the streets, Effie thought. Her flowery dress was fresh and pretty, and her blonde hair artfully waved. Her make-up was suspiciously unsmudged, too.

  ‘You did the right thing, coming here,’ he said stoutly.

  ‘Did I? Are you sure? I know I don’t deserve your kindness, after what happened—’

  ‘That doesn’t matter.’ Adam pushed past Effie and sat down beside Adeline. His arm went protectively around her shoulders. ‘You know you can stay here for as long as you like.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s very kind . . .’

  ‘I’m sure Adeline wouldn’t want to impose on you,’ Effie said quickly, before the other woman had had time to finish her sentence. ‘Surely you have family you’d rather stay with? Or a hotel?’

  ‘Her family is in France, and she’s not staying in a hotel. Not when she’s in such a state,’ Adam said firmly.

  ‘No, Effie’s right.’ Adeline sniffed, dabbing invisible tears away from her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go . . .’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  She turned her limpid dark eyes towards him. ‘Oh, Adam, you’re so kind,’ she sighed.

  Effie watched them gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes. ‘I suppose I’d better be the one to go,’ she mumbled, but neither of them seemed to notice.

  She was halfway to the front door when Adam caught up with her. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Back to the hospital. Three’s a crowd, don’t they say? Besides, I expect you and your girlfriend have a lot of catching up to do.’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’

  ‘How am I supposed to be? I—’ Effie stopped herself in time. I love you, she had been going to say. But even she had more pride than that.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just don’t know how you could take her back, that’s all. After everything she did to you. Or have you forgotten that?’

  He glanced away. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Can’t you see why she’s doing this, Adam? Richard doesn’t want her any more, so she’s trying to worm her way back in with you.’

  ‘She wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Of course she wouldn’t. Because she’s such a paragon of virtue, isn’t she? Oh, wake up, Adam! You think you’re so clever, but you have no idea when it comes to women. She used you before, and she’s using you again. Anyone can see that.’

  ‘It’s not like that. Adeline isn’t like that,’ he insisted stoutly.

  ‘Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when she lets you down again.’

  As she turned to go, he said, ‘You can’t help who you fall in love with, Effie.’

  No, she thought. No, you can’t, can you?

  She walked out of the door, proud of herself for not looking back.

  ‘You’re early.’ Jess looked surprised when she came off duty just after nine o’clock and found Effie already in bed. ‘I thought you’d be in the back row of the pictures with your boyfriend by now.’

  After sobbing into her pillow for nearly an hour, Effie had washed her face and convinced herself that she could finally speak without crying. But as soon as she tried, the lump rose in her throat, choking her, and before she knew what was happening tears were spilling down her cheeks again.

  Jess was at her side in a moment, sitting on the edge of her bed, arms round her.

  ‘Oh, love, what is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘It – it’s Adeline. She – she’s come b-back.’ Sobs shuddered through Effie’s body as she struggled to get her story out. Jess listened, her pretty face creased in sympathy.

  ‘You mean to tell me he just stood you up without a by your leave – for that awful woman?’ she said in disbelief.

  ‘He didn’t feel he had any choice,’ Effie defended him, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘She just turned up on his doorstep, with nowhere else to go . . .’

  ‘Of course he had a choice!’ Jess snapped. ‘He could have sent her packing. That’s what he should have done.’

  ‘He could never do that. He’s too in love with her.’ Effie had seen it, written all over Adam’s besotted face when he looked at Adeline. He looked l
ike a man who’d just woken up from a bad dream.

  ‘Then he’s a fool and you’re better off without him,’ Jess declared. She stood up and started unpinning her cap.

  Effie watched her friend. She didn’t feel better off. She’d only left Adam’s lodgings two hours before, and already she was beginning to miss him dreadfully.

  ‘I don’t blame him,’ she said mournfully. ‘Adeline is so beautiful and sophisticated. Why would he ever want someone like me when he could have her?’

  ‘You mustn’t talk like that,’ Jess said, through a mouthful of hairpins. ‘You’re a lovely girl and far too good for him.’

  ‘No, I’m not good enough.’ Effie picked up the poetry book, which had lain abandoned on her nightstand ever since Adam had given it to her. ‘I’m not nearly clever or cultured enough for him.’

  ‘Well, if he feels like that then he ain’t worth bothering about,’ Jess declared.

  But Effie wasn’t listening. She was already flicking through the book, her eyes searching the pages as if they somehow held the answer to all her problems.

  Jess stopped in the middle of unfastening her collar studs. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Improving my mind,’ Effie replied, not looking up. ‘If being more like Adeline will make him fall in love with me, then that’s what I’ll do.’

  She heard Jess sigh. ‘O’Hara, you’re not serious? Why on earth should you try to change yourself for someone who isn’t even worth it?’

  That’s just it, Effie thought. He is worth it. And next time she met Adam Campbell, she would be ready for him.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  VERONICA HANLEY HAD never had much sympathy for the ‘new’ Matron, as she still insisted on calling her after five years.

  It wasn’t that she disliked her personally, although in Veronica’s opinion Kathleen Fox was too young, too inexperienced and far too frivolous to make a good Matron.

  The main reason she didn’t approve was because she didn’t feel Kathleen Fox was right for the hospital. She had replaced the old Matron, a very worthy woman who had presided over the Nightingale since Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. Veronica had served as her Assistant Matron for the last five years of her tenure, and she’d very much hoped that she might be given the chance to continue her good work after the old lady retired.

  Except the Board of Trustees had decided in their infinite wisdom to appoint Kathleen Fox instead.

  ‘A breath of fresh air,’ they called her. A load of nonsense, in Veronica’s opinion. Change for change’s sake. What’s more, Miss Fox wasn’t even Nightingale-trained. How on earth could a woman who had received her training in the north of England ever hope to maintain the high standards of the hospital Veronica was so proud to call her own?

  But much as she hated to admit it, some of the changes the new Matron had brought about were for the better. Veronica didn’t approve of everything, of course. Miss Fox was far too soft, and she lacked the necessary gravitas of a good Matron. And the traditions of the Nightingale would never mean as much to her as they did to those who had been trained in its ways. But generally speaking Miss Fox hadn’t been quite the unmitigated disaster Veronica had expected. Especially with her Assistant Matron by her side to guide and advise her.

  Until now. She had never been more disappointed with Miss Fox than she was when she discovered the hospital was going to close – and that Matron had allowed it to happen.

  Now, Veronica sat as Acting Matron in the Board of Trustees meeting, her heart in her stout black shoes, and listened to them making plans to dismantle the hospital – her hospital, the place that had been her home since she was a young student.

  It was all she could do to stop herself shedding tears. But she knew her poor departed father, a colonel in the Indian Army, would never have forgiven her if she had allowed her stiff upper lip to tremble for a moment.

  Instead, she concentrated all her emotions on disliking Constance Tremayne. She was the worst of them all. The other Trustees were well-meaning enough, but quite useless. It was Mrs Tremayne who wielded all the power.

  And she had betrayed Veronica.

  To think she had once admired Mrs Tremayne for her forthright manner and her determination to see things done properly. Constance had once been Veronica’s biggest ally. She hadn’t wanted Kathleen Fox appointed as Matron either, but for once she had been outvoted by her fellow Trustees. Both she and Veronica had been most disgruntled about it, and even though Veronica didn’t like to admit it now, they had conspired to make life as difficult as possible for the new Matron. It filled Veronica Hanley with shame to remember how spiteful she’d been.

  But now . . . Mrs Tremayne had bitterly disappointed her. How could she do this? How could she sit there, so smug and self-satisfied, while everything they had worked for for years was taken apart around their ears?

  The medical school was moving down to Kent. The wards were to be closed down, the poor Chronics were being scattered to the four winds, and everyone else had to fend for themselves. The nurses’ Preliminary Training School was moving to Kent, too. But Veronica had just learned they would not be taking on any more probationers if and when the war started.

  ‘No more probationers?’ she’d said aloud, startling herself and the rest of the Trustees. ‘But however will we manage?’

  ‘We’ll hardly need them, since there won’t be a hospital for them to train in,’ Constance Tremayne pointed out, slowly and carefully, as if she were addressing an idiot.

  There won’t be a hospital . . .

  Veronica stared at Mrs Tremayne’s thin lips moving. How could she say it so matter-of-factly?

  Mrs Tremayne had turned back to the others and was speaking again.

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs Tremayne?’ Veronica raised her voice, interrupting her.

  Mrs Tremayne turned to her with a strained smile. ‘Yes, Miss Hanley?’

  ‘What about the staff?’ Veronica asked.

  Mrs Tremayne looked at her blankly. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Surely they will have to go somewhere too?’

  ‘I assume they will find positions elsewhere,’ Mrs Tremayne dismissed the question briskly. ‘Now, if we could move on to the next item . . .’

  ‘And what about the ones who can’t?’

  Mrs Tremayne frowned, not trying to hide her irritation. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Several of the staff are past retirement age, or close to it.’ She thought of her friend Agatha Sutton, the Home Sister, and Florence Parker, the Sister Tutor. How would they manage without any girls to look after?

  ‘Then they will retire, I imagine,’ Mrs Tremayne said, with a touch of impatience in her voice.

  ‘But how? They don’t have homes or families to look after them.’

  ‘I don’t know, do I? Really, Miss Hanley, this isn’t our concern,’ she dismissed.

  ‘Isn’t it? Well, it should be.’

  Mrs Tremayne looked at her, startled. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘These are proud, elderly women who have known nothing but nursing all their lives. They’ve sacrificed homes and families of their own so they could serve their hospital.’

  Reginald Collins, another of the Trustees, cleared his throat. ‘You never know, it might not come to that,’ he said.

  Veronica stared at him. Feeble little man, with his thinning hair and milky-white hands that had never done a proper day’s work in their life.

  ‘Of course it will come to that,’ she retorted. ‘There is going to be a war, you can be sure of it.’

  ‘At least we agree on something,’ Mrs Tremayne murmured under her breath.

  ‘But you don’t win a war by beating a retreat,’ Veronica continued firmly. Her father the colonel would have scorned such tactics.

  ‘Miss Hanley, may I remind you we’re not fighting this war?’ Mrs Tremayne snapped. ‘This is a hospital, not an army barracks! The war has nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Th
at’s where you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘This war, if it happens, will not just be fought by our soldiers at the front. It will be fought here, on our streets and in our homes. And every time we panic, or shut up shop, or close our doors, we are sending out a message, not just to the enemy, but to everyone around us, that there is something to fear.’

  ‘Miss Hanley is quite right.’

  Veronica looked up. Kathleen Fox stood in the doorway, proud and tall in her stark black uniform. Her face was almost as pale as the starched white linen headdress that framed it.

  ‘Matron, what a surprise.’ Constance Tremayne’s voice was falsely bright. ‘But surely you’re supposed to be resting?’

  ‘I had to come,’ Miss Fox said. ‘I need to address the Trustees on a matter of great importance.’

  ‘Is it on the agenda?’ Malcolm Eaton addressed the paper in front of him.

  ‘It’s about the hospital closure.’

  Veronica heard Mrs Tremayne’s stifled sigh. ‘What about it?’

  ‘It must not be allowed to happen.’ Miss Fox’s imperious gaze swept the table. Veronica was suddenly reminded of a statue of Boadicea she’d once seen. ‘The Nightingale must not close.’

  Veronica wondered if she’d heard correctly. And she wasn’t the only one, judging by the stunned expressions all around her.

  ‘But it’s been decided,’ Mrs Tremayne said through taut lips. ‘You were all in favour, as I recall?’

  ‘I’ll admit I was,’ Miss Fox conceded. ‘But I was unwell at the time, and that clouded my judgement.’

  ‘Nevertheless . . .’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’ve had time to reflect on my decision since then. And I’ve realised we are in danger of making a grave mistake.’

  Her footsteps faltered slightly as she approached the table, and Malcolm Eaton gallantly offered her his chair. Mrs Tremayne didn’t move, Veronica noticed. She sat rigid and upright, regarding Miss Fox through narrowed eyes.

  ‘And may I ask what’s brought you to this shattering conclusion?’ she asked.

  Kathleen Fox took a moment, gathering her thoughts. ‘As you know, during my recent illness I’ve been spending time in a ward, and it’s given me the chance to get to know many of the patients very well. I’ve come to realise how much this hospital means to them,’ she said. Mrs Tremayne rolled her eyes but said nothing. ‘This isn’t just a building, it’s a beacon to them. A place they’ve known all their lives, somewhere they trust.’