A Nightingale Christmas Wish

by Donna Douglas

  The poor women on Hyde might be unaware of their own bodily functions, but even they must have sensed the cloud of gloom that had descended over the hospital. The Trustees’ plans had become more official since the government had issued an order that only acute patients should be admitted for medical care, and that they should be ready to send other patients home at a moment’s notice should it become necessary.

  But it wasn’t just the patients who faced an uncertain future.

  ‘I don’t know how she expects us to stay cheerful when we don’t even know what’s going to happen to us,’ Effie complained, as they headed for the sluice with the trolley.

  ‘The latest I heard, they were evacuating us all to the country,’ Jess said.

  ‘How can they do that? Who’s going to look after the patients?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think there’ll be many patients left once they’ve finished sending everyone home. And if they do need extra help they’ll just transfer all the staff nurses from the wards that have closed, I suppose. Those that haven’t joined up,’ she added.

  ‘My mother is still on at me to go back to Ireland,’ Effie said. ‘She’s been reading in the papers about the prospect of thousands of people being bombed in London, and it’s scared her stiff. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about with our Bridget going off and joining the Red Cross. She’s convinced her daughters are all going to be killed if she’s not there to keep an eye on them.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll go?’ Jess asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Effie sighed. ‘I don’t want to. But if I don’t, I’ll probably just be sent off to some funny little corner of the country where I don’t know anyone. If I can’t stay in London I might as well be back in Killarney. At least I’ll have my family around me. But I’d much rather stay in London, if I could. Just in case—’

  Just in case Adam Campbell ever tries to find me again. She didn’t want to say the words out loud, because she knew what Jess’s reaction would be. Her friend had made it very clear that she thought Effie was foolish still to be pining for him. In her opinion, Adam Campbell didn’t deserve such devotion.

  But Effie longed to see him again. Ever since they had parted, she had thrown herself into self-improvement. Before she went to sleep every night, she made herself read and memorise one of the poems in her book. And whenever she had any time off, she took herself off to a museum or an art gallery. She had even foregone a night out dancing with the other girls so she could sit through another poetry reading in the hope that she might bump into Adam there.

  She kept waiting to enjoy staring at paintings and old pots in glass cabinets, but so far it had all been deathly dull. But one day, she promised herself, one day she would be able to impress Adam, and her efforts would be worthwhile.

  ‘I’m going to ask permission to stay on here,’ she came back to the present to hear Jess saying. ‘It’s my home, after all. I’ve got nowhere else to go.’

  Effie eyed her friend sympathetically as she stood at the sink, washing the bowls. The Nightingale was Jess’s only real home. She came from a rough part of the East End, a real den of thieves by all accounts. Her father was in prison and her stepmother had all but thrown Jess out on the streets. Becoming a nurse had changed her fortunes completely, so Effie could understand why she didn’t want to give it up.

  ‘Do you think they’ll let you?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But if they don’t, I’ll come back and volunteer as a VAD. They’re bound to be able to make some use of me, with my training,’ said Jess.

  Effie gazed at her admiringly. As usual, Jess had it all worked out. She liked to think and plan, unlike Effie, who generally preferred to tackle life’s problems as they were thrown at her.

  But it was time for her to start making some plans now, she decided. ‘I would like to stay and finish my training,’ she said wistfully. ‘Mammy says I can do it in Ireland, but it won’t be the same.’ For one thing, there would be no fun to be had with her mother watching her like a hawk.

  Then another thought occurred to her. ‘But what if there isn’t a nurses’ home here for us to live in?’

  ‘I’m sure there’ll be something, even if it’s not what we’re used to,’ Jess said. ‘Or if not, they might let us live out.’

  ‘Live out?’ A glimmer of hope began to flicker inside Effie. ‘Oh, do you think so? Imagine if we could all get a flat together – you, me and Kowalski. Wouldn’t that be grand?’

  She was already making plans, wondering how she could somehow entice Adam to her sophisticated new abode, when Jess ruined it all by saying, ‘But surely if your mother says you’ve got to go home, then you won’t have any choice? Not until you’re twenty-one.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Effie sighed heavily, seeing her wonderful dream of independence slipping away from her. She felt sorry for Jess, with no family to rely on. But sometimes having a loving mammy and a bunch of interfering sisters did have its drawbacks.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  ON THE MORNING of Friday 1 September Germany had invaded Poland, and everyone knew that war was inevitable.

  But no one could have guessed it from the atmosphere in the Prospect of Whitby pub on Wapping Wall that night. There was a typical East End knees-up going on, and the Dawsons were in the thick of it as usual. One of the uncles thumped out a tune on the pub piano while another played the accordion. The beer flowed against a background of laughter, singing and dancing.

  The merry sounds drifted out of the door towards Helen as she stood waiting for Chris.

  The man she loved.

  She said the words determinedly in her head, as if by repeating them often enough she could make herself believe them.

  She did love Christopher, she was sure of that. But she also knew now that she wasn’t in love with him.

  She hadn’t even realised there was a difference until that fateful night in the Sick Bay with Dr McKay. But that jolt of recognition when she’d looked at him, as if she had finally found the other half of herself, had made her all too painfully aware that there was.

  It had also made her determined to stay away from him at all costs. Because the idea of being so consumed with love, of needing someone so badly, terrified Helen. She had been through that with Charlie, and losing him had nearly killed her. She couldn’t risk her heart twice over.

  And besides, she couldn’t let Christopher down. He loved her and he wanted to marry her, and she had made a promise to him that she couldn’t break. And she loved him, too, enough to know that they would make each other happy. Or as happy as she needed to be.

  The night air was still and stiflingly warm. It was the hottest summer anyone had known, so the newspapers said. But there were no more stars to be seen, only endless grey barrage balloons floating silently in the sky above them. How quickly she’d got used to seeing them there! She hardly seemed to notice them these days.

  ‘Waiting for me?’

  Helen turned around and there was Chris, standing next to her. She was relieved to feel her heart lift at the sight of him. He was so good-looking, with his red-gold hair and laughing blue eyes.

  It’s better to be lonely than with the wrong person. She pushed Dr McKay’s words from her mind.

  ‘Where have you been? I was worried about you.’

  ‘I had a few things to sort out.’ Chris leaned down and kissed her. Not his usual devouring kiss, but the lightest peck on the lips.

  ‘Shall we go in?’ She started towards the pub but he stopped her.

  ‘In a minute. Can we go for a walk first? There’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  He took her arm and they walked along by the river. The stench of the dockside factories hung on the still evening air.

  Helen waited expectantly, but Chris’s usual chattiness seemed to have deserted him.

  ‘What do you make of this news about Poland?’ she said, her voice falsely bright. ‘I suppose it means war has to come now, hasn’t it? I mean, surely we’ve g
ot to do something . . . Did I tell you William is planning to join up? He wants to go into the RAF . . .’ she gabbled on, anything to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them.

  Just as she was running out of things to say, Chris stopped walking and gazed out across the water.

  ‘Beautiful, ain’t it?’ he said, nodding towards the silvery ribbon of the river snaking its way into the distance. ‘Whenever I see it, I think of what it feels like to be on a boat, heading down there and out to sea. That’s proper freedom. You don’t know what’s ahead of you.’

  Helen looked at his profile, carved against the twilight, and suddenly she knew.

  ‘You’re leaving, aren’t you?’ she said.

  He was silent again. Then he nodded. ‘I’ve been offered a job sailing out to the West Indies.’ He kept his eyes fixed ahead of him on the river.

  ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘A few months. Maybe longer, if it all works out.’ He gave her a quick, sideways glance. ‘But I have to leave tonight.’

  It was only then that she saw the duffel bag at his feet. How could she not have noticed it before?

  She turned her gaze back towards the tall cranes silhouetted against the night sky. ‘What about the wedding?’

  She already knew the answer, even before she heard his sigh of regret. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry because we’re putting off the wedding? Or because you don’t want to marry me?’

  He was silent for a long time. ‘I tried, I really did,’ he said finally. ‘But I reckon we both know I’m not the marrying kind. I need my freedom too much, I just can’t settle.’

  She thought of him, moving restlessly from job to job, never staying in the same place for long. No wonder everyone thought he was trouble. On land, he was like a caged animal.

  ‘I tried to make it work,’ he went on. ‘I wanted to do it, truly I did. I wanted what everyone else had, a wife and a home and a good job.’

  ‘Is that why you wanted to marry me? To be like everyone else?’

  ‘No!’ He turned to her, his eyes serious. ‘The minute I saw you, I wanted you,’ he said. ‘You were so beautiful, like an angel. And you intrigued me, too. You were so sad, I wanted to be the one to make you happy.’

  ‘You did make me happy – you do,’ she amended.

  ‘Oh, Helen, don’t make this harder for me than it already is,’ he pleaded. ‘We both know it’s not going to work. I realised it that first night I came back. We see everything so differently . . . I could never be part of your world, and I don’t think you’d enjoy being part of mine.’

  A lump rose in her throat, choking her. ‘But you still talked about getting married? We went to see my parents—’

  ‘Like I said, I wanted to make it work. More than anything. I suppose that’s why I wanted to be married quickly. Everyone always says I’m impulsive, and they’re right.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I wanted to marry you before I had a chance to think about it and change my mind. But now I have thought about it, I know I’m not being fair on you.’ He gazed down at her. ‘Believe me, love, if I was going to settle down with anyone, it would be with you. But it wouldn’t work. I can’t do it, even for you. I’m a wanderer,’ he said. ‘Sooner or later I’d let you down and hurt you, and you’ve already been hurt enough.’

  Tears stung Helen’s eyes, but deep down she knew he was right. She had been trying just as hard as he had to make things right between them. But if they’d stayed together, how long would it have been before one or the other of them became too exhausted to try any longer?

  ‘Helen?’ Chris put out his hand and cupped her cheek, turning her to face him. ‘Don’t be upset,’ he said. ‘You’ll find someone to make you truly happy one day. Happier than I ever could.’

  She saw a flicker of another emotion in his eyes then and it suddenly occurred to her that he knew. He understood the turmoil she’d been going through and had decided to make it easy for her. Either that or his pride had made him end it before she could.

  But the next moment he was smiling again, and Helen told herself she had imagined it. How could he possibly guess her feelings, when she refused to admit them even to herself?

  They walked back towards the pub together, holding hands one last time. When they reached the doors Chris turned to her and said, ‘Well, this is where we came in. Bumping into each other in a doorway.’ He hitched his duffel bag over his shoulder. ‘Say goodbye to them for me, won’t you?’

  ‘Aren’t you going in?’ Helen asked.

  He shook his head. ‘They won’t miss me,’ he said, a trace of sadness in his voice.

  He bent down and kissed her one last time, a kiss of such infinite gentleness Helen wanted it to go on for ever. But all too soon, he pulled away.

  ‘Will I see you again?’ she said, gulping back tears.

  He smiled. ‘I doubt it.’ He winked at her. ‘Be happy, Helen.’

  And then he was gone. She watched him sauntering away from her, his duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder, as the sound of music and laughter drifted from the pub.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  ‘WELL, THAT’S THAT then,’ Mr Peckett said. ‘Fancy declaring war on such a beautiful morning, too. They’ve got some ruddy nerve, ain’t they?’

  No one else spoke. They all continued to stare at the wireless, long after Mr Chamberlain had finished giving his speech.

  They had been expecting it. But his sombre announcement that Britain was now at war with Germany had still come as a shock.

  ‘God bless us all?’ Mr Talbot muttered, from under his canopy of wires and pulleys and splints. ‘God help us all, more like!’

  ‘What happens now, I wonder?’ Mr Peckett said.

  ‘We carry on, of course,’ Frannie replied with a touch of defiance.

  But she could tell from the way they looked at her that they all knew this wasn’t true. Nothing would be the same again. She already barely recognised the Nightingale Hospital, its walls banked high with sandbags and windows criss-crossed with sticky brown blast tape. In a few days the students would be evacuated. The patients would go home or, if they couldn’t, would be moved to other hospitals far from the city. And she would find herself presiding over an empty ward.

  But she wouldn’t allow any of the worry she felt to show on her face as she turned to her nurses. They surrounded her, wide-eyed as scared rabbits.

  ‘Look sharp, there are still things to be done,’ she said. ‘Matron will be doing her rounds soon, and then the porters will be on their way up with dinner. And after that we have to prepare for Visiting Hour . . .’

  An unearthly droning suddenly filled the air, drowning out her voice and ruffling her composure. The nurses looked at each other in panic.

  ‘Air-raid warning! Quick, what do we do?’

  ‘Get the patients out!’

  ‘I’ve forgotten my gas mask!’

  ‘Nurses, please!’ Frannie raised her voice to silence them. ‘It’ll be a false alarm, there’s no need to panic.’ She looked at them, all shamefaced before her. ‘Goodness me, five minutes of war and you forget all your training. If you’re like this now, I dread to think what you’ll be like after five weeks – or five years!’

  Katie O’Hara turned pale. ‘We won’t be at war that long, will we, Sister?’ she said, her upper lip trembling.

  ‘I certainly hope not.’ Frannie tried to smile at her reassuringly. ‘But we mustn’t lose discipline just because of what has happened. We must always remember we are nurses at the Nightingale Hospital.’

  ‘For now!’ Frannie heard one of the students mutter, and turned on her furiously.

  ‘You can go to Matron for your cheek!’ she snapped. ‘I will not have insolence or tolerate slapdash behaviour just because there is a war on, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ they chorused half-heartedly.

  ‘Good. Now get on with your work and I don’t want to hear any more nonsense from any of you. And the n
ext person to mention the war will also go straight to Matron!’ she added.

  She dismissed them and went to her office, Katie O’Hara following her.

  ‘Excuse me, Sister, may I have a word?’

  ‘Yes, O’Hara. What is it?’

  ‘I wondered if I could have a half-day holiday on Friday?’

  Frannie regarded Katie across the desk. She was shorter and plumper than her sisters, but with the same black curly hair and bright blue eyes. ‘It’s very short notice,’ she said. ‘I hope you have a good reason?’

  ‘I’m getting married, Sister,’ she said shyly.

  Frannie looked at her sharply. ‘Married?’

  ‘Yes, Sister. My Tom has got his call-up papers, so we thought we’d get married before he goes away.’

  A lump rose in Frannie’s throat. She had a sudden vision of another girl waving a young man off at a railway station . . .

  ‘Sister?’ Katie O’Hara was watching her anxiously.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, O’Hara. I’ll talk to Matron about it.’ Frannie summoned a smile. ‘And may I offer you my congratulations.’

  Katie’s smile dimpled her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Sister.’

  ‘But I suppose this means you’ll be leaving us?’

  ‘I suppose so, Sister. Although I’d like to stay on, or at least volunteer if I can? I mean, I’m happy to stay living in while my Tom’s away.’

  ‘We’ll have to see,’ Frannie said. ‘I’ll talk to Matron about it.’

  ‘Thank you, Sister,’ Katie said. Then she added brightly, ‘You never know, we might soon have lots of married nurses!’

  Who knows? Frannie thought wearily. Everything was so topsy-turvy now, anything was possible. They would have female doctors and male nurses next.

  When Katie had gone, Frannie took off her bonnet and ran her hand through her hair, enjoying the coolness of the air against her scalp.

  Outside in the courtyard ambulance bells were clanging. Frannie jumped up and pulled the shutters over the windows, muffling the sound.