A Nightingale Christmas Wish

by Donna Douglas

  ‘You can’t ignore it, you know. It’s everywhere.’

  She swung round, shocked to see Matthew Sinclair standing in the doorway.

  He’d smartened himself up a bit since the last time she’d seen him. He’d shaved, put on a clean shirt, and he didn’t stink of whisky. But the sight of him still repulsed her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, since you took me by surprise, I thought I’d do the same to you.’ He closed the door and plonked himself down in the chair opposite hers without being invited.

  ‘Your manners haven’t improved, I see,’ she said.

  ‘At least I’m not throwing whisky in your face.’

  ‘You deserved it.’ She stared at him. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I thought you’d like to know John has been given his marching orders,’ Matthew said. ‘His regiment is travelling down to Southampton in three days’ time, and then it’ll be on to France, I imagine.’ He laughed. ‘You would have thought he’d have managed to swing himself a nice cosy desk job by now, wouldn’t you? But not John. He always has to go and act the hero. I suppose he thinks the war can’t start without him.’

  Bitterness and jealousy were written all over his face.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ Frannie asked.

  ‘Because I want you to understand what you’re doing by pushing him away like this. I also want you to know that if you send him away without telling him how you feel, there might be no going back.’

  Which is exactly why I can’t tell him, Frannie wanted to shout. It was the dreadful feeling that she might lose him that had stopped her from following John that day in the park. And it had stopped her from picking up the telephone to him every day since.

  But she didn’t want to betray herself, least of all to Matthew. So she replied coolly, ‘I really don’t think that’s any of your business.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘I know why you’re pushing him away, Fran. It’s because you’re scared. You don’t want to lose him like you lost me all those years ago.’ He paused for a moment, then said, ‘I did you a great wrong, and I want to make things right if I can.’

  She sighed, ‘If you’re talking about the way you lied to everyone, I don’t think—’

  ‘No, I’m not talking about that,’ he cut her off. ‘If it hadn’t been for me, you would never have been this afraid. Because then it might have been John you were saying goodbye to at that station twenty-five years ago. And he would have come home to you.’

  Frannie stared at him, uncomprehending. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You really don’t know, do you?’ Matthew looked at her in wonder. ‘My God, for a clever girl you can be rather dim sometimes, Frannie.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘John was in love with you, you idiot girl. He always had been, right from when we were all children. Surely you must have realised? It was obvious enough to the rest of us!’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she murmured, bewildered.

  ‘So you never noticed the way he looked at you, or the way he blushed whenever you looked at him? You never noticed what a tongue-tied fool he was whenever he tried to speak to you?’

  ‘I just thought he was shy.’

  ‘Shy? He was lovesick, dear girl. Honestly, it was painfully funny to watch him sometimes. He would trip over himself not to go near you yet couldn’t tear himself away from you at the same time.’ Matthew shook his head pityingly. ‘Not that he’d ever approach you,’ he mocked. ‘You were the schoolmaster’s daughter, far too good for the likes of poor, humble John.’

  She winced at his sarcasm. No one could ever accuse Matthew of being poor or humble, that was for sure.

  ‘If I’m being honest, that was part of the attraction for me,’ he went on casually. ‘I quite enjoyed watching John squirm when I flirted with you.’

  The truth dawned. ‘Are you saying you were only interested in me to make him jealous?’

  ‘Of course that wasn’t the only reason,’ Matthew said defensively. ‘You were the prettiest girl in the village, and all the boys liked you. Even if you were a little bit bookish.’

  Frannie was quiet for a moment, trying to take it in. She remembered how surprised and delighted she’d been when Matthew took a sudden and unexpected interest in her. Now she knew why.

  ‘He was even worse when we went to France,’ Matthew continued. ‘As far as I was concerned it was a case of out of sight, out of mind. I was young, I thought I was going to die, so I reckoned I should have a bit of fun while I still could.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘But John put a stop to all that. He stood over me, made me write to you. It was worse than being at school!’

  ‘I treasured those letters,’ Frannie murmured.

  ‘I should think you did, the effort it took me to write them!’ Matthew retorted. ‘I told John he should start writing to you himself, and save me a job, but he always said you wouldn’t want to hear from him. I suppose he was right, wasn’t he?’

  Frannie fought the urge to slap the arrogant smile off Matthew’s face. Even after all these years, he still reckoned himself superior.

  But to her shame, she had to admit he was right. Like everyone else, she had been so dazzled by Matthew that she had never noticed John standing in his shadow.

  But now she looked at her former fiancé she realised that behind the dazzling exterior there was nothing but emptiness. He was all front and show, the complete opposite of quiet, unassuming, heroic John.

  ‘Anyway,’ Matthew said. ‘I came to tell you if it hadn’t been for me, John would have come home to you. You could have got married, and—’

  ‘Don’t.’ Frannie held up her hand, silencing him. ‘I don’t want to think about that now. It’s too late.’

  ‘But it isn’t,’ Matthew insisted. ‘You could still be together if you go to him, tell him how you feel.’

  ‘For how long?’ Frannie said bitterly. ‘You said yourself, he’ll be sent to France soon. What if he doesn’t come home this time?’

  ‘You’ll be heartbroken,’ Matthew said simply. But then he added, ‘But will you be any less heartbroken if you don’t tell him?’

  Frannie looked away, infuriated by his logic. ‘Did John send you to talk to me?’ she asked.

  ‘Good God, no!’ Matthew laughed harshly. ‘He’d be mortified if he knew I were here. He’s so proud and noble, he would never come and beg you for anything, no matter how much he might want to.’

  The sneer in his voice made Frannie’s hackles rise. ‘Don’t criticise him for being proud or noble,’ she bit out. ‘Just because you don’t know what either of those words mean!’

  To her surprise, Matthew slumped back in his seat, all the bravado gone out of him like air from a burst balloon. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted heavily. ‘I’m neither of those things. But I’m trying to do the right thing now. I’ve hurt the two people who loved me most, and I want to make it right, if I can.’

  ‘And where did this sudden change of heart come from?’ Frannie mocked.

  Matthew lifted his gaze to meet hers. ‘I’m dying,’ he said.

  His abrupt declaration took away all her anger. ‘Oh.’

  ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to try and look sorry for me. I don’t need your pity, and I certainly don’t deserve it. But I want to go to my grave knowing I did one good thing in my life.’

  He stood up to go. Frannie looked at his yellowing skin and emaciated frame and wondered how she hadn’t noticed before how ill he was.

  ‘I won’t take up any more of your time,’ he said. ‘And by the way, John doesn’t know anything about my illness, so I’d rather you didn’t tell him. I don’t want him feeling sorry for me, too.’ He smiled grimly. ‘I really don’t think I could stand any more of his charity.’

  ‘How can I tell him, when I’m never going to see him?’ Frannie said.

  Matthew shook his head sorrowfully. ‘You’re as bad as John,’ he sighed. ‘
Neither of you will ever admit how you feel.’

  As he shuffled towards the door, Frannie said, ‘Wait! Can I order you a taxi?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, but thank you. You’re very kind.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Think about what I said, won’t you? But don’t leave it too late. Time’s running out for all of us.’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  ‘WELL, WE’VE BEEN at war since yesterday, and so far no one’s been blown up yet, thank God,’ David said. ‘The worst we’ve had so far is someone walking in front of a bicycle during the blackout. Long may it continue!’

  He held up his wine glass in a toast. The others joined in, but he noticed Jonathan and Esther’s smiles seemed more strained than Rebecca’s.

  He couldn’t understand why. They had come for dinner at the Café de Paris, one of the few nightspots still open after everywhere else had closed their doors. They had enjoyed oysters and steak Diane, listened to some wonderful jazz music and were generally having a very pleasant evening, or so he’d thought.

  ‘Come on, out with it. What’s wrong?’ he asked, putting down his glass.

  Esther and Jonathan looked at each other. Esther gave her husband an encouraging nod.

  ‘Go on,’ she whispered.

  Jonathan turned to his friend. ‘The thing is, Esther and I have been talking and we’ve decided she’d be better off leaving London for a while. We don’t want to take any risks in her condition.’

  ‘Splendid idea,’ David agreed. He smiled at Esther. ‘Where are you thinking of going? Somewhere nice, I hope?’

  ‘I have some family in Cambridge,’ she replied quietly. ‘My father is already there, and I promised I’d join him.’

  ‘Well, that’s a nice part of the world. And it’s not too far from London, so you’ll be able to keep an eye on her, Jonathan.’

  As soon as he said the words and saw his friend’s face darken, he guessed what was coming next.

  ‘That’s the thing, old man. I’m going with her.’ Jonathan lifted his gaze to meet David’s. ‘I’ve been offered a job at a teaching hospital there.’

  ‘I see.’ David recovered himself quickly. ‘Quite right, too,’ he said. ‘Couples should be together. What’s the point in marriage otherwise?’

  Esther smiled, but Jonathan’s expression was still tense.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right about it?’ he asked. ‘I hate leaving you in the lurch.’

  He looked so anxious David couldn’t help laughing. ‘Good Lord, is that why you’ve ruined a perfectly good dinner?’ he asked. ‘What did you think I was going to do, Jonathan? Burst into tears? Obviously I’m utterly distraught. But we’re friends, we’re not joined at the hip. It’s your wife you need to worry about, not me.’ He winked at Esther.

  She looked relieved. ‘You see, I told you he’d understand.’ She nudged her husband. ‘David, you can’t imagine the agonies he’s been through, wondering how to break the news to you.’

  Embarrassed colour rose in Jonathan’s face. ‘I was just worried, that’s all. I didn’t want you to think I was abandoning you. I know you’ll need all the help you can get in the coming months. Especially as the hospital has been designated an official Casualty Clearing.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find someone to take your place,’ David said airily. ‘You’re easily replaced.’

  ‘But will they be able to tolerate your barbed sense of humour?’

  ‘Probably not. But hopefully I won’t have to tolerate their dreadful singing, either.’

  The two men grinned at each other.

  ‘You should go with him,’ Rebecca joined in, looking from one to the other. ‘I’m sure Jonathan could find a position for you, and then you wouldn’t have to be parted.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jonathan said. ‘I’ll tell them we come as a pair and can’t possibly be broken up.’

  ‘That’s a very tempting idea, but I’m quite happy where I am, thank you.’ David smiled and sipped his wine.

  He’d thought Rebecca was joking, but she persisted, ‘I really think this could be a good opportunity for you too. I’m sure a man of your talents could easily find a more prestigious position in Cambridge.’

  David bristled. ‘More prestigious than working in one of the best teaching hospitals in London?’

  He looked at her. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with large coppery brown eyes and dark hair like satin. Just his type, in fact.

  But there was something about her that rankled with him.

  ‘Yes, but you could do better,’ she insisted. ‘I’m sure if you moved to another hospital you could find a consultant’s post.’

  ‘I don’t want a consultant’s post.’ He wished she would shut up. He could sense the atmosphere changing. ‘If I’d wanted to be a consultant, I would have done it years ago.’

  ‘So you’re happy to patch up black eyes and bruised knees for the rest of your days?’

  Her scornful tone reminded him of his stepmother, constantly jabbing at his poor father, pushing him to do better, to achieve more, always to be something more than he wanted to be . . .

  ‘Hardly,’ he said tautly. ‘As Jonathan said, we’ve been designated a major Casualty Clearing Station. Once the bombs start dropping I think we’ll be praying for black eyes and bruised knees. Although I don’t suppose being knee-deep in dismembered body parts is glamorous enough for you either?’

  An angry flush spread up Rebecca’s slender neck. Jonathan jumped in quickly to calm the situation.

  ‘I’m sure David knows his own mind,’ he said. ‘Besides, if he went, there’d be no one left in Casualty.’

  ‘Why, who else is deserting the sinking ship?’ David asked casually.

  There was a long pause. ‘You mean you don’t know?’ his friend said.

  David looked at him across the table and felt his blood run cold. ‘Who?’

  ‘Sister Dawson is going down to Kent. I’m sorry, I thought you knew . . .’

  It was like a fist in the stomach, taking the wind out of him.

  Rebecca laughed. ‘David, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Who is Sister Dawson? Is she that dark-haired girl I’ve seen around? The tall one?’ She looked from one to the other, an expression of bewildered amusement on her face. But David was hardly aware of her. All his attention was focused on Jonathan.

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Look, David—’

  ‘Why?’ he interrupted.

  He could hear his heart thrumming in his ears. Suddenly all his attention was focused on one tiny pinprick of time and space.

  Jonathan sighed. ‘Her fiancé called off their engagement,’ he admitted heavily. David sat forward. He could feel electricity surging through his body, making it hard for him to sit still.

  ‘But why is she leaving?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose she felt it would be easier.’

  David caught the meaning behind his friend’s look. She knew, he thought. He wasn’t going mad. She had felt it too, that spark between them.

  ‘It’s probably for the best,’ Jonathan said.

  He was right, David thought. Helen would be safer in the country. But the thought of not seeing her again, of letting her go without telling her how he felt, was unbearable.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Rebecca’s voice had sharpened, her woman’s intuition working overtime. ‘David?’

  He barely heard her. He was already on his feet. ‘I have to see her,’ he said.

  ‘David, don’t,’ Jonathan warned. ‘Leave the girl alone.’

  ‘That’s not what you said a few months ago.’

  ‘I know, but she must have her reasons for leaving. Her mind’s made up. It won’t do you any good to go stirring things up now . . .’

  But David was already on his feet. He took some notes out of his wallet and threw them down on the table. ‘Here, this is on me. I have to go,’ he said shortly.

  ‘David? What are you doing?’ Rebecca snapped.

  He looked down at he
r. ‘Something I should have done months ago,’ he said.

  Helen was in her room, packing. She and Dora were catching the train down to Kent first thing in the morning with the babies and Danny. Typically kind-hearted, Millie had immediately invited Nick’s brother to stay at Billinghurst when she’d found out how worried Dora was about leaving him behind.

  As she folded her clothes and laid them neatly in her suitcase, Helen kept telling herself this was just what she needed. She tried to be excited about staying in a castle and seeing her old friend again. But deep down she knew she was running away.

  She had just finished emptying the last of her things from the wardrobe when the door flew open and David McKay stood there. He was wearing an evening suit, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, a bow tie hanging loosely around his neck. His dark eyes were blazing.

  She fought down the treacherous flare of excitement she felt. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get in? You can’t just walk in, I’ll be trouble if anyone finds you . . .’

  ‘What do you care? You’re leaving anyway, aren’t you?’

  He walked into the room, slamming the door behind him. Helen took a step away from him, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘When were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to sneak off without saying goodbye?’

  ‘I – I thought you knew,’ she stammered.

  ‘Do you think I’d let you go if I did?’

  Her heart was crashing against her ribs. If he touched her, she would be lost.

  ‘Why?’ His voice lost its angry edge. ‘Why are you going?’

  Her mind grasped for the excuses she’d been preparing ever since she’d made her decision to go. ‘I want to transfer back to Theatre . . . My friend is being evacuated and she wants me to go with her . . . I thought I might be safer in a hospital in the country . . .’

  ‘Safer from what, exactly? From the bombs or from me?’

  Helen clutched her hands together to stop them from shaking. ‘I want you to leave,’ she said.

  ‘Not until you tell me the truth.’

  She faced him across the room. His anger was all the more lethal for being so contained. He was still, but she could see the fire in his eyes.