Christmas Angels

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘What on earth…?’ Matron’s heart was pounding. She was struggling to make sense of what Madge was saying to her. ‘They should be preparing the child for the morgue, not going through the cupboards.’

  ‘But, Matron, there has been no death. Louis’s gone missing – he’s disappeared.’

  ‘Missing?’ Matron almost shouted the word down the phone. ‘Missing? How can that be?’

  ‘I wish I knew, Matron. You are needed on three, and jolly quickly, I would say.’

  *

  Maisie had tipped up and emptied out the large wicker trolley of decorations and now it stood upside down, ready to be used as a platform for them to stand on. Dessie and Jake pushed open the ward doors, each with a set of ladders over one shoulder. ‘Here you are, ladies,’ said Dessie, casting a nervous glance towards the window of the office to see his Emily sitting on the arm of a chair with her arms around the shoulders of Sister Paige, and Matron opposite her. ‘Is it true?’ he whispered. ‘Has he just disappeared?’

  ‘He has that,’ said Biddy. ‘Into thin air, it would seem. He is nowhere to be found and what’s more, Sister Paige is adamant that no one came up the stairs when she was in the milk kitchen and that policeman, Freddie, was fixing the light.’

  Lights needing to be fixed were Dessie’s responsibility and his alone, and his ears instantly pricked up. ‘What light?’ he asked. ‘No one has reported the light to me. What was up with it? I was only up here yesterday and in fact Sister Paige called down and reported that the fridge in the milk kitchen was noisy. She would have mentioned the light to me.’

  ‘Oh Jesus, Dessie, I don’t know,’ said Biddy, looking weary. ‘Honest to God, we just came up here to decorate this ward and try and win the competition to please Matron. They have the judging lady and a photographer from the Nursing Times coming tomorrow and we just wanted to get it done and out of the way, but now all this has kicked off.’

  ‘It’s obvious, if you ask me,’ said Maisie as she laid the decorations out on the large polished wood table in the middle of the ward. She was surrounded by gold-paper stars in five different sizes, a crescent moon two feet across, a huge Star of Bethlehem on a gold ribbon, a flock of cotton-wool sheep and their shepherds, and a glittery tangle of tinsel and paper chains. Stanley had made a manger and had been given straw from the dairy and in it, lay one of Pammy’s old dolls as the baby Jesus. ‘His mother must have taken him. How do we know what the circumstances were, eh? No one knows who she was, so, frankly, if she has found a way to look after him and loves him so much she is prepared to sneak into the hospital to get him back, then good luck to her, I say.’

  ‘We don’t know that, Maisie,’ said Biddy. ‘And in my book, no mother who lets a child get that sick deserves to be a mother.’ Before they got the chance to bicker, she nodded towards the tinsel and paper chains on the table. ‘Has that lot to be strung around the windows?’ she asked.

  ‘It has, and the moon and all the golden stars to be hung in the middle. It’ll be all the easier now that Dessie has the ladder, won’t it, Andrew?’ Maisie turned to the little boy lying in the bed nearest to them, his leg encased in plaster of Paris and suspended from a pulley at the foot of his bed. He was one of several children on the ward who had limbs in traction to keep the broken bones in place as they mended. She looped a string of paper chains around the pulley weights hanging off the end of the bed.

  He smiled back at her. ‘Can I help?’ he asked.

  ‘I wish you could, love,’ said Maisie. ‘Tell you what, how about blowing up some balloons. Your leg might be out of action, but I bet there’s nothing wrong with your lungs, eh?’

  ‘All this faff and palaver,’ said Biddy as she took some balloons out of a brown paper bag and handed them to the eager young Andrew. ‘In two weeks we’ll be up here to take it all back down again.’

  Dessie propped up one of the ladders and then whacked it open and checked that the rope in the middle was in good enough condition to hold his weight.

  ‘You get the tree set up in the corner, Jake,’ said Biddy as Jake whacked open the second set of ladders and set it up below one of the glass orb lights that hung from the ceiling on an iron pole. ‘You help him, Dessie. It’s too big and awkward for us to manage. If you can get it straight, I can put Branna and Mrs Duffy on to that. We’ll start on the windows.’

  Several of the children were now sitting up in their beds, transfixed by all the activity. ‘Are the decorations really going up today?’ came a timid voice from halfway down the ward.

  ‘They are, queen, and we are going to hang the nicest over your bed. What’s your name?’

  ‘Angela,’ came the reply.

  Biddy noted the steam tent suspended over her bed, folded back like the hood of a pram, ready to be deployed when it was needed, and the drip in her arm. It was obvious that little Angela had been one very sick little girl. ‘How are you doin’, queen?’ she asked, concerned at her pale complexion and wide dark eyes.

  ‘I’m nearly better now,’ Angela replied. ‘I want to go home to Mammy and Daddy and our Kitty, even the twins.’ Her bottom lip began to tremble just as Pammy Tanner came over.

  Pammy had been nursing Angela and she knew it took only one word of kindness or two seconds of conversation to start her crying. ‘Hey, hey now,’ she said as she approached the bed. ‘What did Dr Mackintosh tell you? Didn’t he say that every tear you cry is an extra hour in hospital and every smile you smile is a day sooner home?’ She placed her arm around Angela’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

  Angela looked up at Pammy and to cancel out the tears that had escaped down her cheeks she gave her the biggest smile.

  Biddy thought she recognized Angela. ‘Where do you live, queen?’ she asked.

  ‘On the four streets.’

  ‘I thought so. Are you one of the Doherty girls?’

  Angela sat up in her bed but began to cough with the effort. ‘I am,’ she said.

  ‘Well, listen, tell you what,’ said Biddy, ‘I’m going to the bingo with my mate Kathleen tonight and she is your neighbour. If you like, I’ll knock at your Mammy’s and tell her how brave you are and what a good girl you’ve been. Would you like that?’

  Angela nodded and the tears filling her eyes threatened to spill.

  As Biddy turned to Maisie, she whispered, ‘It’s bloody cruel if you ask me, only letting the parents visit on Sunday afternoons.’

  ‘I can’t argue with you, Biddy,’ said Maisie as she unfurled a roll of tinsel. ‘They were waiting by the tea post on the day she came in. I could see she wasn’t well. Tommy, her da is.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Biddy. ‘Tommy and Maura. They’re neighbours to Kathleen. Kathleen’s come over from Mayo on a visit to her son – staying for Christmas, she is. I bet you Maura is right out of her mind with the worry.’

  She took a strand of the tinsel and flicked it to Pammy. ‘Here you are, put this round the littl’un’s neck. You can be our own Christmas angel, Angela – the Christmas angel of St Angelus, how about that?’

  This time there were no tears, just a beaming smile that took her closer to home.

  *

  In the ward three office, the head of CID was talking to Aileen, Matron and Freddie about what he thought had happened. ‘Seems to me,’ he said, ‘that the little boy’s mother has been watching the ward, slipped in and taken him. Though seeing as she’s neglected him once, it’s a mystery to me why she would want him back again. We’ve sent a message out to all police officers.’

  ‘Please, sit down,’ said Matron, nodding at the CID officer as she lowered herself into a chair. ‘Do we even know who this child is yet?’

  The CID officer took out his notebook. ‘I’m afraid to say, Matron, that our enquiries have led us absolutely nowhere. What we do know is that the little fella wasn’t born in Liverpool, or wasn’t registered here anyway. Over the last few days we’ve been through the registry records, identified every male child born around here in the pas
t twelve months and traced his whereabouts. He’s not from here. There is no report of any child missing in Liverpool or unaccounted for. We’ve been on to London and there is no child of this age reported missing nationwide. It would seem that every mother in the UK knows exactly where her baby is, except for this little fella’s. He must have been abandoned. Except now it appears his mam has had a change of heart and regretted her actions or maybe had a change of circumstances.’

  He lifted the bridge of his glasses and scrunched his eyes together, as though to clear his vision. Matron could see that he was a busy man, probably overworked, and a case like this was possibly one he could do without.

  Letting his spectacles drop back, he placed both hands on his open notebook. ‘As you know, we have identified his blood group, but that doesn’t really help us. I’ve never known anything like it. London has suggested that he might be the child of a foreign alien. Some of them who were known to be here before the war went missing around ’42 and have lived off the radar since. We just don’t know. Has anyone seen anything suspicious here on the ward before today?’ He turned to Freddie. ‘Where were you, constable, when the child went missing?’

  Freddie looked down at his feet. When Louis had disappeared he’d been in the milk kitchen with Aileen. If he admitted that, they would probably both lose their jobs.

  Before he could make any comment, Matron spoke. ‘I don’t understand why he was left alone?’

  Aileen spoke up. ‘Nurse Tanner had gone to the laundry to collect his clothes. As you know, he has been coming on in leaps and bounds and there was no real medical reason to special him. But as we had Sister Tapps’s nurses join us from this morning, we thought it would be good for him to have some human contact and interaction. He has obviously been badly deprived in the past.’

  ‘And where were you?’ asked Matron.

  Aileen’s mouth dried in an instant. How could she say that she’d been in the milk kitchen being kissed by Freddie? However briefly, that was what had happened. The most vulnerable child in the ward had gone missing on her watch, while she was in charge. Aileen’s palms went sweaty and she began to feel light-headed. She would have to own up. Her career would be over and her mistake would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her mother would have her wish. She was not fit to be a ward sister at St Angelus. Her life was over before it had begun.

  But before she could say anything, Freddie interjected. ‘There was a problem with the light in the kitchen, Matron. It was flickering on and off and I offered to take a look for Sister.’

  Aileen felt no relief at what Freddie had just said. She could tell by the set of Matron’s jaw and the way she bristled in her chair that she did not believe him.

  ‘Oh, really, and how long did that take?’

  ‘No more than three minutes, Matron,’ said Aileen.

  That was the truth. Aileen felt sick inside and decided that she would have to confess. Whatever the cost to her and Freddie, she could never live with herself if she didn’t own up to the fact that it was all her fault. If she had not stepped back into the kitchen with Freddie, had not lost her mind for those thirty seconds… But her mind was whirling. If anyone had passed by, she would have heard them. Heard the ward doors open and close. But she had heard nothing.

  She looked across the office to Freddie. He had remained standing in the company of his superior. His eyes met hers and his instructions were clear. There was an all but imperceptible shake of his head. He was telling her no, don’t say anything, and she decided in that instant that he was right, because none of it was making sense. There was something very wrong about this. She would swear by all that was holy, if the ward doors had opened, even if Freddie had been kissing her at the time, she would have heard it and jumped out of her skin. But Louis wasn’t on the ward any more; he wasn’t anywhere.

  ‘I have to say, this is all very odd,’ said the CID officer. ‘For someone to know when to steal a baby, to know exactly when a nurse would decide to go to the laundry to fetch the ironing and the precise moment a light fixture would break in the kitchen. Not your usual pattern for a kidnapping, I would say – not that we have to deal with such things very often, but you get my drift?’

  Everyone nodded in unison. They did get his drift and they were all thinking the same thing. How could a series of coincidences so bizarre have been used by an individual to such effect?

  ‘Do you think it was his mother?’ said Aileen.

  The CID officer looked up from his notepad. ‘I think it has to be,’ he said as he scratched his scalp with his pencil. ‘But the fact remains that I cannot for the life of me understand how she knew when to strike. Is it possible that his mother was on the ward?’

  Matron tutted indignantly. ‘Totally impossible,’ she said. ‘We have a very strict visiting policy, and besides, we know who is visiting who. It’s not Lime Street in here. It is a hospital ward, a place of peace and quiet. Calmness aids recovery, that is the motto on this children’s ward.’

  No sooner had she finished speaking than there was a loud shriek from ward three. Heads shot up to see Maisie balanced on the top of a swaying ladder, with Biddy and Branna holding the bottom as it rocked to and fro.

  ‘Oh my goodness me, what on earth is going on?’ Matron jumped to her feet.

  Aileen beat her to the door and as she opened it she was greeted by shrieks of laughter from the children in the bay. Jake was clowning around pretending to have been flattened to the ground by the weight of the Christmas tree and the kids were loving every moment.

  ‘Well, peace and quiet for most of the time,’ Matron said, raising an eyebrow at the CID officer. ‘What on earth is going on, Sister Paige? Has mayhem broken out on this ward?’

  Aileen was already half out the door. ‘Sorry, Matron, it’s the day for decorating the ward. Everyone is very keen to win the competition. I’ll go and see what’s going on.’ Relief washed through her as she left the office. She had never felt so unworthy of her position, so dreadfully deceitful in all of her life.

  ‘Where is Sister Tapps?’ a little boy wearing hospital pyjamas and clutching a teddy bear asked Aileen as she hurried past. He was one of the children who’d been transferred from ward four earlier in the day.

  Aileen had been on her way to see if the ladies with the decorations were safe, but she stopped in her tracks and with her usual kindness took hold of the little boy’s hand and spoke to him. ‘Well, she has gone to have Christmas this year with her own family,’ she said. ‘It was time for Sister Tapps to have a little holiday.’

  The little boy’s face fell. ‘She promised me…’ he said as his bottom lip began to tremble. ‘She promised me she would be here and that we would have presents on Christmas morning.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Aileen. ‘Listen, I’ll be back in just a moment. You will have presents. Everyone’s parents will bring presents with them, I’m sure. Look! What are these silly ladies doing up the ladder with ribbons and stars hanging around their necks? What’s your name, little one?’

  Aileen had yet to combine the two wards’ Kardexes into one and she only knew half of the patients on Sister Tapps’s ward. Her stomach was churning. A baby on her ward had disappeared into thin air and now there was mayhem everywhere she looked.

  ‘Jonny,’ squeaked the little boy through his tears.

  Biddy was waddling up the ward towards her. ‘Sister Paige,’ she said, ‘now don’t be worrying, it’ll all be all right, I promise you that. Maisie knows what she’s doing and with the gorgeous decorations she’s made, I’ll tell ye what, I think we might just win this thing, mightn’t we kids?’

  A cheer went up from the children in the bay. They had been delighted by the antics of Maisie Tanner. Her daughter Pammy, on the other hand, was holding her head in her hands.

  Aileen could hardly believe what she was hearing. She glanced towards the office, her heart in her mouth. Those children who were able to do so had escaped their bedclothes and were practically bouncing up and dow
n on the ends of their beds – being cheered on, she noted, by Maisie and Dessie. To Aileen’s utter relief, she could see through the window of the office that Matron had a smile on her face as she turned to Emily.

  *

  ‘Sister Haycock,’ Matron said, turning away from the office window and suppressing her smile, ‘Sister Paige is in danger of losing control of this ward. The children are taking over. Go out and help her, would you. And tell Father Christmas down there to keep some of his playacting fresh for Christmas Day.’

  Emily was also glad to escape the office. She hurried out before Matron could change her mind, and strode straight down the ward towards the grinning Dessie.

  Matron continued with the CID officer. ‘So what do we do now? There’s no point in me keeping a nurse in the cubicle – no one is going to come back for a baby who isn’t there.’

  ‘No, Matron, I’m sure that’s true. It’s all down to us now. We’ve come to a standstill regarding the boy’s identity and parentage and I can’t see that’s about to change now the child has gone missing. I’m not sure that reclaiming your own child is a crime. Especially as the baby is now so much better, as you say.’

  Matron nearly exploded. ‘I will have you know that it is only due to intensive nursing care that that baby is alive. As far as I am concerned, it is still attempted murder.’

  The officer scratched the top of his head. He looked perplexed. He had nothing to say other than, ‘Yes, Matron.’ He would have liked to have said that they had a great deal on their books at present and that half of the staff were missing, thanks to the Christmas holidays. He wished he could prove that it was Louis’s mother who had come back and claimed him. He could close the case then and be done with it. He would like nothing more than for her to have a nice excuse to hand as to what had happened and then all would be happy ever after. A seventeen-year-old boy had been found in the Mersey that morning with his throat cut. He hadn’t wanted to shock Matron, but that was where his attention was needed.

  As he stood and motioned for his officer to follow him, he left his final instructions. ‘We will do our bit, Matron, but, please, keep a close eye on this ward for anything unusual. Police officers are the most observant of people – if our officer heard nothing while he was fixing the light, I would say there was nothing to hear, which is why this is all the more confusing.’