Christmas Angels

by Nadine Dorries

  Curiosity won out and she made her way towards his cubicle door. He had heaved himself up in his cot and tears were running down his face. He stretched both of his arms out towards her as she approached.

  ‘Oh, you poor little thing, come here,’ she said as she walked over and picked him up. It was the way he nuzzled his wet face into her cheek and placed his spindly arms around her neck and clung to her that did it. She was defenceless. He smelt just like Laura had. Of Pears soap and Johnson’s baby powder. She hadn’t used either on her ward since Laura had gone. She had bathed Laura every single morning herself and she had loved the smell of the Johnson’s baby powder.

  ‘Laura,’ she whispered into the nape of his soft neck. ‘You smell just like Laura.’

  With Louis’s sleepy head laid on her shoulder, she walked out on to the ward and without even thinking what she was doing stepped on to the landing. She made straight for the milk kitchen – true, she was tiptoeing, and if she was honest, perhaps she was hoping not to be noticed, to have an excuse to spend a bit more time with the baby in her arms, but it had been so easy. When she got to the milk kitchen she glanced in for the briefest second and saw that Sister Paige was wrapped in the arms of the young policeman. Without a moment’s hesitation, she and Louis slipped on down the corridor across the landing and into ward four.

  Tappsy had spent her life tiptoeing around her ward, between the cots and beds of sleeping children, intent on ensuring that they didn’t wake. Now that she weighed less than ever, being light of foot was even easier. She found a string bag hanging on the back of the kitchen door in ward four and, opening the fridge, took just a few minutes to fill it with food. Hastily, she tiptoed down the now eerily empty ward four to the locked single oak door at the end, the door she used most nights to return to the sisters’ accommodation. She had the key on her ring. Placing the food down on the floor, she put the key in the lock and, checking that the coast was clear, slipped through, straight on to the accommodation landing and into Emily’s room. It had all taken less than five minutes.

  She was the only person to ever use that door. No one would think to ask her permission to walk down ward four and take a shortcut. Sister Carter had moved out to live with her widowed sister only two years after the war had begun and she had been the only other person to use the door. Even then, the etiquette was that she had to ask Sister Tapps’s permission first. More often than not she preferred to walk down the steps, along the main corridor, all the way to the main entrance and then back up the administration offices steps and past Matron’s rooms. It was a long walk after a hard day, but pride had often come before a weary hike for Sister Carter.

  *

  Louis gurgled and smiled up at her and as he did so her heart fluttered. He had been in St Angelus for only a few days but already she could see soft chestnut hair peeping through. Within a month his scalp would be full of tufts of long-overdue baby hair. She packed the pillows around him, placed him between the bed bolster and the wall and checked he was safe.

  ‘Shhh, little boy,’ she said. ‘I will be back soon. I’m just popping out for more supplies – a bottle for you, for a start.’

  As she tried to lay him down, he fought against her, struggling to raise his head above the eyeline of the bolster and to take in more of the room, but his full belly from the feed Nurse Tanner had given him just before she’d left to collect the laundry, and tiredness from his brief spell of crying, had worn him down. He was improving, but he was nowhere near good health yet. Tappsy hadn’t needed to ask him to shush. His eyelids were already closing and he was fast asleep before she left the room.

  ‘There, you can spend Christmas with me,’ she whispered. ‘We can enjoy it together, in here.’ Her heart lifted – she would be spending this Christmas just as she had every Christmas she could remember, looking after a poorly child.

  But as she bent to pull the cover up and over his tiny form, she had no time to think what her next step was going to be. A wave of pain engulfed her and she staggered back, grabbed the side of the chest of drawers with her hand and slid down the wall and on to her bottom. She clamped her other hand over her mouth, desperate not to scream out loud.

  This pain was worse than any she’d had before. It had come on without warning and surged from her side and her back across her entire body. Beads of perspiration stood out on her top lip. Her face flushed from hot to cold and then went clammy.

  When the pain had passed, she looked at the back of her hand and saw that her skin was sallow. Brown stains she was sure had not been there before glared up at her. As the pain ebbed away, she took her handkerchief from her pocket, wiped the tears from her eyes and steadied her shaking hands. She would take some diamorphine from the medicine chest when she went back through ward four to her own milk kitchen to fetch the formula and dried food for Louis. She thought he was ready for some now and she would be the first to try him.

  She decided to wait for her pulse to return to normal before she stood up. This was the perfect time, she thought. Ward four would be completely empty. The nurses had stripped the beds, and the dirty linen had been collected. But she knew how diligent Branna and her team were, so she would avoid returning there tomorrow morning. She’d already heard Branna discussing how the holiday period would be a good time to get the porters to clean the top of the high window frames and the glass light shades.

  Satisfied that the pain had now disappeared and Louis was asleep, she rose with care, not wanting the pain to return, and stood straight, holding on to her side. It had gone. She was becoming used to the pattern and, reassured, she crept back out on to the corridor and through the door at the end on to ward four.

  She headed for the medicine chest first and slipped some diamorphine tablets into her pocket. They were a low dose, but she would double up. Checking through the window that there was no one about, she popped into the milk kitchen and, grabbing a cardboard delivery box from the side, filled it with formula, dried egg, and bottles and teats. She looked longingly at the tap, desperate to quench her sudden and burning thirst, and did something she had never done before – she turned on the cold tap, allowed it to puddle in her cupped hands and sipped the water. After a couple of sips, she pulled away sharply and looked down at the water in her hand with a puzzled frown. She checked the tap, placed her other hand underneath and felt the end. Her mouth tasted of metal. There was something in the water. She allowed more to puddle in her hand and, putting her face close, examined the water. It was clear and yet it tasted very strongly of something metallic. Lead. The pipes are lead, she thought. Is there lead in the water? She spat it out into the sink.

  Gathering her cache in the box, she made her way to the laundry room for nappies, zinc and castor oil cream, and clothes. In no time at all she was safely back through the door and ensconced in Emily’s room once more.

  Louis was where she had left him, his arms stretched out above his head, his legs akimbo. She was exhausted from her efforts and, even though she refused to admit it to herself, from the pain as well, which had turned into a dull but persistent ache in her side. She took one of the diamorphine tablets. ‘It’s enough,’ she said as she swallowed it with water from the sink, noting again that the water tasted metallic.

  She wanted to lie down. Needed to lie down. She sat on the bed next to Louis and slowly lowered herself until she was stretched out alongside his thin but perfect form. Moving her face close to his, she breathed in his heavenly baby smell and her senses heightened, conjuring memories of the child she had loved as her own. She inhaled again, filling her nostrils, and that was all it took for her to remember Laura and all the days they had spent together, all seven hundred and eighty-two of them. As the tears escaped and rolled down the bones of her jutting cheeks, she sobbed her name. ‘Laura. Laura.’ Not a day had passed since Laura was removed from her care that she hadn’t thought of her and worried about her. She longed to see her grown and to know that she was being loved and cared for. Laura had been neglect
ed, she knew that. Louis had also been neglected. ‘I’m here now,’ she whispered. ‘I’m here.’

  Moments later, exhaustion swept through her and sleep came quickly, relieving her of her pain and her loneliness.

  *

  ‘I will come to casualty with you,’ Matron had said to Aileen. What she didn’t say was that she was about to put Sister Antrobus in charge of Aileen’s mother. Dr Mackintosh had told her on the phone that he could find nothing wrong.

  ‘If I had to guess,’ he had almost whispered down the phone, ‘I would say that there is nothing wrong with her, but she’s Sister Paige’s mother, so I can’t really do that. And besides, given her history, I daren’t discharge her. She’s already made Doreen on reception cry, she was so rude to her.’

  Matron remembered exactly what Mrs Paige was like and there was only one woman she knew who was bigger, scarier and more used to getting her own way. She was definitely handing this case over to Sister Antrobus. She could come in very useful sometimes.

  ‘Can you take over ward three for the time being?’ Matron had asked Emily. ‘Sister Paige’s mother has been admitted downstairs and we don’t know what it is yet.’ She raised her eyebrows and they both looked towards Aileen, who was grabbing her cloak from the staff room. She appeared shaken.

  ‘I’m ready, Matron,’ she said and she almost flew out of the door.

  ‘I’m happy to hold the fort, Matron. Let me know what’s happening and if I can do anything other than cover the ward,’ said Emily as she escorted them to the bottom of the stairs. She reached out and squeezed Aileen’s hand.

  ‘Can you tell Freddie?’ Aileen said. ‘He thinks we’re meeting at the rehearsal tonight, but I doubt I’ll be able to make it now.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Emily. ‘Leave it to me. I’m sure your mother will be fine, so don’t worry. And don’t worry about the ward either. I have no nurses in the school from now until we return in January, so you aren’t inconveniencing me.’

  The backs of Matron’s and Aileen’s cloaks swung from side to side as they hurried down the main corridor towards the front door and casualty. Emily marvelled at Matron’s ability to take everything in her stride and the way she always had an answer ready. Her confidence never wavered. Her assured walk down the corridor of the hospital she was responsible for belied her age and gave the impression that she was a much younger woman.

  Emily folded her arms and looked back up the stairs towards the landing. Matron had given her a meaningful stare when Aileen had asked her to tell Freddie what had happened. She wondered whether she’d be in Matron’s bad books now for not telling her what was going on right under her nose. Matron liked to know absolutely everything that went on in St Angelus.

  She turned and looked back down the corridor. Freddie was nowhere to be seen. The CID officers had left and it appeared they may have taken Freddie with them. Emily had the distinct impression that they weren’t as concerned about Louis now as they had been when he was first admitted. That was a big mistake, in her view. She took the stairs back up to the ward with her usual quick, delicate steps and was met by Maisie Tanner on the landing as the ward doors shuddered closed behind her. Through the circular glass porthole windows, Emily could detect activity on the ward.

  ‘Oh, there you are. Are you in charge now? Branna said Sister Paige’s mam has been admitted.’

  ‘She has, so it looks as though I’m the replacement sister until we know what’s going on.’

  ‘Well, you’ll never guess what,’ Maisie said, ‘we’re almost done with decorating the ward! Come and have a look. The kids are dying to show it off to someone. It’s a crying shame these poor kids are only allowed to see their mams and das once a week. It’s shocking, that, Emily – who makes up these rules?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Do you know what, I never questioned it during the war, and it’s just hung on, but now it really feels like a bonkers rule. I think Matron would have dropped it earlier, but Sister Carter was vehemently against her doing that. She used to say that visitors would bring bacteria into her ward, cause infections and disrupt the routine. She said the children wouldn’t get enough rest and how was she supposed to nurse poorly and dying children with the noise of visitors traipsing in and out. I think Matron found it hard to argue against that.’

  ‘Emily, I’m a mam and I know that if me and my kids were separated, they would be so upset and that surely would mean they’d take longer to get better.’

  ‘Well, everyone’s talking about it in London apparently, and with the new NHS things are changing so fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if new rules were announced soon. I even read that they’re thinking of scrapping the Nightingale wards and dividing them into smaller sections, to give patients more privacy and make it easier to have visitors coming in and out.’

  Before she pushed open the doors, Maisie owned up to the fact that the children in the bay had become more than a little involved in the decorating. ‘We couldn’t stop them, Emily. The kids were all helping and I thought Matron wouldn’t mind. To be honest, they were no trouble – all the bedlam seemed to be coming from elsewhere, what with everything that’s been going on.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that,’ said Emily. ‘And to top it all, Dessie acting like he’s just flown in from Lapland.’ She shook her head as Maisie began to giggle. ‘Do you think we have a winner? Has all this effort been worth it?’

  ‘Well, come and see for yourself, love. We’ve got everything you can think of and the ladies have been at it for nights. I don’t know about green fingers, mine are golden glitter fingers now. Our Stanley will be spitting it out of his Christmas dinner at this rate.’ Maisie placed the flat of her hand on the ward door. ‘Any news about little Louis?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘No, nothing. Talk about a mysterious disappearance or what?’

  ‘It’s no mystery, Emily. No one walks away with a sick baby in their arms, not unless they really love him and think they can do better than is being done here to make him healthy again. The only reason any woman would do that would be because she can’t bear to be apart from him. It’s his mam, make no mistake. Only a mother’s love would drive a woman to take that risk.’

  ‘I’d like to think that,’ said Emily, ‘but it is one heck of a coincidence if she just happened to turn up at the hospital at the very moment there was no one to stop her. I mean, I’m not saying it didn’t happen, but what are the chances?’

  Emily thrust her hands into her pockets, something Matron had been telling her off about for years, but to no avail. A troubled look sat on her face. She wasn’t convinced by Maisie’s theory, but she had no alternative argument to put forward.

  As Maisie opened the doors, Emily gasped in surprise. The ward had been transformed into a Christmas grotto and twenty pairs of earnest eyes were fixed on her as she looked around and walked towards them. Lights glittered everywhere, and on the table there was mistletoe and holly set into a block of oasis. She looked up above her to the huge star suspended from the ceiling. ‘That’s the star of Bethlehem that is,’ said Maisie, who had crossed her arms and was studying Emily’s face intently, looking for early signs of approval.

  ‘Look at the manger,’ said Emily, ‘and the shepherds?’

  ‘They aren’t shepherds, them’s dockers,’ Maisie began to laugh.

  Emily couldn’t laugh, she was transfixed by the ceiling of glittery stars, the lights and candles and the sheer transformation of the ward. The flames from the ward fire reflected in the baubles on the Christmas tree. ‘Oh my goodness, haven’t you all done well,’ Emily said as she looked around at the children and included them in her praise. ‘It looks just magical.’ The children grinned from ear to ear and Maisie sighed. Her work was done.

  Outside the window the light was already beginning to fade and Emily could see the first flutter of snowflakes driving past on a squall thrown up from the Mersey.

  ‘Do you like it, Sister?’ little Jonny asked, clutching his teddy and hol
ding Dessie’s hand.

  ‘I do!’ Angela piped up and grinned.

  ‘Oh, would you listen to you,’ said Emily, ‘you are looking better even in just a few hours.’ She looked around her and grinned as she continued marvelling at the decorations around her.

  ‘There’s just one more little job Jonny here has to do, isn’t there, lad?’ Dessie looked down at him and winked.

  Jonny seemed to rise to his full height as he said to Emily, ‘Close your eyes, Sister Haycock.’

  Emily looked at Biddy, who grinned and winked at her. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Do as you’re told for once. It’s the little patients doing the ordering about now, not you.’

  The ward, a place of sickness and healing, was full of smiles. The children who were to remain there over Christmas were either chronically ill, too poorly to be discharged or had home circumstances that were not conducive to recovery. Poor nutrition resulted in badly healed bones and the orthopaedic surgeon would not allow a fracture patient to return home to a diet of potatoes and bread until he was sure the bones had mended. For many of these children, this Christmas would be their first away from poverty and squalor.

  A little girl’s voice rang out. ‘Sister, Dessie says we are in charge now because everyone’s lost their heads and he doesn’t know where they are.’

  Everyone burst into laughter.

  ‘Shush, you, you will get me into trouble,’ said Dessie.

  ‘Yes, come on, Sister, do as you are told,’ said little Jonny.

  Emily thought they were all enjoying this just a little bit too much.

  ‘Eyes closed, everyone!’ Dessie shouted.

  ‘Honestly!’ said Emily as she crossed her arms. ‘I hope Sister Paige hurries back. I can’t imagine what it’s like for her being bossed around on here all the time by you lot.’

  ‘Oh, Sister Paige is fine. I think they’ve saved this especially for you,’ said Beth Harper as she elbowed Pammy in the ribs.