Christmas Angels

by Nadine Dorries

  Freddie kept his gaze to the front, focusing on the figure of Christ and his suffering, the windows, and the elaborate altar cloth. He was breathing in, holding it, and breathing out slowly. How has this terrible thing happened to me, to us, he wondered. How had something so wonderful come so close, only to be snatched away? He remembered the taste of Aileen’s lips. The softness, the yielding. It was as though they had never been touched before. The image of her eyes, smiling at him, welcoming, floated in front of him.

  There was the cough, the five-second warning, and then came the sweet voice of the soloist and the first strains of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’. The acoustics in the cathedral lifted the carol heavenwards and Freddie could hold it together no more. He did the thing he had been brought up to believe was wrong: his throat tightened, his eyes burnt and the tears cascaded down his cheeks. He missed the worried glances from Pammy and Anthony, who, if they could, would have walked over and stood next to him, one on each side.

  *

  Emily Haycock was kneeling on a kitchen chair mashing potatoes when Dessie arrived home from work. ‘What a day, eh?’ he said as his cap landed on the back of the kitchen door and he sat on the chair in front of the fire to take off his boots.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known another like it,’ said Emily. ‘I thought the police would never go, the ward would never be decorated and the whole horrible nightmare of Louis going missing would end. And then Sister Paige’s mother being admitted to top it all off.’

  Dessie stood and, moving behind Emily, slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. He doubted he would ever get over the novelty of finding her in his kitchen when he got back from work. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Watching her mash a pan of potatoes was a delight to him and he wondered whether he was finally going mad.

  ‘What’s for tea?’ he asked as he began to nibble her ear.

  Emily squirmed. ‘Dessie, stop! It’s your favourite, mince and mash.’

  He reached around her, freed her hands from the hot pan she’d been holding and turned her round to face him. It could have been ambrosia from the gods – it didn’t matter how hungry he was, there was only one thing he needed at that moment.

  Later, they were lying in bed, half awake, half asleep, both exhausted by the day and their lovemaking, when Emily sat up abruptly. ‘Oh, God, no!’ she almost shouted.

  ‘What?’ said Dessie, sitting bolt upright himself.

  ‘I forgot to tell Freddie about Aileen – that her mother had been admitted and she wouldn’t be at the choir rehearsal. I got the impression she might have been expecting him to call up to the house after. Oh bloody hell, Dessie.’

  ‘Did you see him then?’ Dessie asked as he reached for a cigarette.

  ‘No, that’s just it, I didn’t. By the time I’d finished the observations and the medicine round, got the ward cleaned up and the children’s tea sorted, the police had gone. I thought Freddie might have come back, but it seems that now Louis has been taken back by his mother, no one is interested.’

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll catch up with Aileen tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want one of these?’ He passed her a cigarette.

  ‘No, I don’t. Come on, let’s go down and have that food. We aren’t wasting it, and besides, I’m hungrier now than I was before.’

  *

  Aileen Paige had started packing her case and it sat open on her bed, already half full. Matron had brooked no argument. She was adamant that Aileen should move into Sister Tapps’s room while she was away for Christmas. ‘Besides, apart from the fact that there’ll be no travelling for you, you can be closer to your mother and know she is being well cared for. I know it isn’t ideal, but I think you need a break, young lady. It’s true that working on the ward isn’t exactly a break, but at least you won’t be working when you get home as well, will you?’

  Despite the awfulness of the day, there was one glimmer of light – Freddie. When Emily told him what had happened, he would surely make his way to Aileen’s house to see her, knowing that her mother was in the hospital. Emily had said she would tell him that with everything going on and Aileen having to work late, it would be impossible to make the rehearsal but that she would be at home. Alone.

  She sat in the window with the lights off. Every time she heard the squeal of the brakes on a bus she shrank back into the curtains, but there was no point. None of the nimble young men who alighted from the buses were him. He never came.

  As she sat in the dark, replaying the events of the day in her mind, she began to shake. It had all been too much: Louis, her mother, her shame, and now this. Freddie just didn’t care. She had got him all wrong. She’d been such an idiot. He was probably more concerned about his job than he was about her, and Louis going missing had scared him. It had scared her too, but she had gone over it so many times and the only explanation had to be that his mother had arrived at a time that happened to be fortuitous for her. She must have been scared at the prospect of having to speak to someone. It was not their fault. If they hadn’t been in the kitchen, Louis’s mother would probably have hidden and waited for the right moment. They were not to blame. Of that, Aileen was sure.

  She waited until the last bus pulled away from the bottom of Green Lane and as she looked out into the dark night she felt sad at the turn her life had taken. No choir or party tonight, the first social gathering she would have been to in ages. No Freddie, no future to look forward to. As she stood to make her way to bed, it dawned on her that she was entirely alone and possibly always would be.

  20

  Christmas was rapidly encroaching and Mrs Duffy still had a lot to do. She was removing the last tray of mince pies from the oven when Beth walked into the kitchen to help.

  ‘Have they finished the tree?’ Mrs Duffy enquired.

  ‘They have, and they are all looking forward to the trolley full of treats coming in,’ said Beth. ‘You would think some of them had never tasted a glass of sherry before.’

  ‘Well, maybe they haven’t? But I think it’s my mince pies that are getting everyone excited.’

  Beth laughed and gave Mrs Duffy a gentle nudge in the ribs. ‘Get you! If you weren’t spot on, I might have the temerity to disagree with you, but honestly, if you said I could only have one or the other, the mince pie or the sherry, I’d choose the mince pie any day. You are the only person I have ever known who puts orange zest in the pastry – it’s gorgeous.’

  Mrs Duffy flushed with pride. These were the moments she lived for, the moments that made it all worthwhile. There was no one at home and there had never been a Mr Duffy. Like many women who had lived through both wars, she was certain that whoever it was that God had chosen for her had fallen in a muddy field long before she’d had the chance to meet him. All human contact in her life came in the form of hugs from grateful nurses, and their words of thanks or praise were the highlights of her life.

  ‘I forgot to tell you, Sister Haycock is popping in too. She really wanted to help with the tree. She’s not singing in the carol service on Christmas Eve, but she’s coming to watch, with Dessie. I think he’s taken the porter’s lads out for a Christmas drink tonight.’

  Mrs Duffy pressed the flat of her hand into the small of her back as she arched backwards, attempting to relieve her enduring stiffness, brought on by years of bending down to a low oven. ‘Is she now? Well, wouldn’t it have been nice to be asked first? I don’t suppose my opinion counts for much though, does it?’

  ‘Mrs Duffy,’ Beth blurted out, ‘what do you mean? No one takes you for granted.’

  Instantly Mrs Duffy wished she could have bitten off her tongue. ‘Oh, not you. Sure, no one helps me more than you do. I don’t mean you, not at all. I swear to God, you spend as much time in this kitchen as you do on the wards. You’re never out of here. I don’t know what I would do without you some days.’

  Beth had covered the distance of the kitchen between them and placed her arm around Mrs Duffy’s should
ers. ‘Well, that comment didn’t come from nowhere. Tell me, why do you think that?’

  Mrs Duffy would not be drawn. ‘No, that’s enough. No more talk – I won’t discuss it. You know me, once I decide.’

  Beth remained silent, but she was very much aware, as were they all, that if Mrs Duffy did have a fault, it was her stubbornness.

  Mrs Duffy was already moving the conversation on. ‘Anyway, isn’t this just one of the best nights of the year, when we decorate the tree and have the mince pies and the sherry? We won’t be spoiling it now, will we? Oh my giddy aunt, would you look at that!’ She waved the tea towel in the air at Scamp, who was sloping away with a warm mince pie clamped gently between his teeth. ‘How in God’s name did that dog get in here?’

  At the sound of Mrs Duffy’s raised voice, Scamp quickened his step. With his ears flat against his head, he glanced backwards as she half-heartedly chased after him, flicking the tea towel back and forth in front of her. Scamp raced off, never loosening his grip on the mince pie, making a beeline for the sitting room. There would be safety in numbers and the nurses who’d gathered there would hide him under a chair.

  Beth began to giggle, Mrs Duffy’s surprisingly self-pitying comment forgotten. ‘We won’t miss one,’ she said as Mrs Duffy gave up the chase and turned back into the kitchen. ‘And don’t tell me you didn’t bake one for him anyway.’

  ‘I did not. Are you mad? D’ye really think I spend my time baking cakes for the flamin’ dog now when you are all at the hospital?’ Her voice rose with her indignation, making Beth laugh all the more as she pushed the trolley and followed Scamp towards the sound of chatter and whoops of delight along with a chorus of ‘Oh, Scamp, you naughty boy.’

  As the trolley nudged open the sitting room door, both Beth and Mrs Duffy stopped for a moment to take in the sight before them. The large tree stood proudly in the bay window, decorated from top to bottom in the gaudiest decorations, some of which Mrs Duffy had brought back with her from their day on the ward. There was tinsel of every colour imaginable and lights within globes, painted and depicting nursery rhymes. Each nurse had brought something or had it sent from home to add to the festivities and each and every bauble clashed. But, it didn’t matter, not to any of them. It was their tree and they loved it.

  Pammy was hanging crepe bells and bows from the ceiling. She was standing on the top rung of a wooden ladder in one corner of the room while one of the probationers was balancing precariously on the sideboard at the other. ‘My drawing pin has bent, flipping thing,’ she said. ‘Can someone reach me up another? The box is on the windowsill.’

  One of the nurses quickly obliged and as Pammy pressed the pin into the ornate plaster coving, the tension in the paper garland gave and the crepe paper crackled and swayed in the thermals rising from the huge fire in the grate. The room was now crisscrossed with red and green streamers.

  ‘There, that was the last, I think,’ said Pammy as she carefully dismounted and snapped the ladder shut.

  Mrs Duffy stood with her hands clasped together as if in prayer, her eyes bright with delight. ‘Don’t you just wish we had a camera?’ she said to the girls who were picking up bits of tinsel from the chairs and the carpet. ‘You know, like the one that photographer man had when he came to the children’s ward. They should hold a competition for the best-decorated nurses’ home next year – Lovely Lane would win hands down.’

  ‘Shall we switch the lights on now?’ said Pammy. ‘Can I do it, Mrs Duffy?’

  ‘You can that, Nurse Tanner. Wait a minute now while I turn the overhead lights off. Let me get back to the door, Nurse Harper.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Beth, who had began laying out the glasses on the trolley, ‘Sister Haycock is on her way, let’s wait until she gets here, shall we?’

  The nurses watched almost open-mouthed as Mrs Duffy’s face set into a scowl. She took a breath and folded her arms and seemed to be on the point of saying something, but then they all heard the front door slam and the familiar tones of Emily Haycock as she sang out, ‘Hello, everyone.’

  The room fell silent. The only sounds were of the fire roaring up the chimney and the patter of the rain on the dark windows. The atmosphere had chilled and none of them could understand why. The only person who could make it right again was Mrs Duffy, but she had not responded to Emily’s call and nor did she go hurrying down the corridor to take Emily’s coat and tut over her having got wet as she normally would. Instead she crossed over to the fire that didn’t need poking, poked it anyway, and firmly set her back to them all.

  Emily burst in through the door. ‘I am almost soaked to the skin! That rain is freezing cold. You haven’t switched the lights on yet, have you?’ She glanced towards the bay window and the tree. ‘Oh, you haven’t. Thank goodness. I’d hate to have missed that. Where’s Mrs Duffy? She’s not in the kitchen.’

  Emily was not even aware of it herself, but this was the first time she had ever walked into the Lovely Lane nurses’ home and not been greeted by the welcoming fussing of Mrs Duffy.

  ‘Oh, there you are,’ she said as she spotted Mrs Duffy’s back. ‘I’ve come for one of the best mince pies in Liverpool.’

  There was a moment’s silence, which hung as heavy as lead. Mrs Duffy threw the poker into the bucket with a clatter and said, ‘Have you now? I’m surprised you bothered at all.’ And with that she walked straight out of the room.

  Not a single person spoke until they heard the kitchen door close behind her. Scamp had belly-crawled out from under one of the chairs and with a worried frown on his face glanced from one nurse to the other. Instead of greeting Emily, he sat with his head low and his tail tucked in. Even he knew that something was very wrong.

  Pammy was the first to speak. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen her like that before. Has someone upset her?’ She looked around the room at the assembled nurses.

  There was a murmur of general confusion and a feeling of acute disappointment at the dramatic souring of what had been a joyous Christmas mood.

  ‘Not at all.’ One of the first years spoke up. ‘She was as happy as Larry over supper and was excited about the tree being switched on.’

  They all loved Mrs Duffy and no one wanted to think that she might be upset. Beth swallowed hard. She wanted to save the night but knew that what she was about to say might not be well received. ‘I think it’s you, Sister Haycock.’

  ‘Me?’ said Emily in surprise. ‘But I’ve only just walked in, what can I have done?’

  Beth was embarrassed and hoped this wouldn’t backfire on her. ‘I’m not sure, but I very definitely get the feeling it is you.’

  All eyes were fixed on Beth now, and there was a collective intake of breath. The room was full of nurses who were in awe of Emily. She was the director of the school of nursing, a very important person, whereas Beth was just a nurse like the rest of them, and yet she was speaking to Sister Haycock as though they were equals. Not one of them would have dared say what Beth just had and they could see that Emily was wrestling with her response.

  Emily looked around the room and was met with a lot of disappointed expressions. They were clearly waiting for her to make things right. ‘Well then, you evidently all think it is me, so I suppose I had better go to the kitchen and see what I can do.’ Her tone was almost sharp. She was very obviously offended, but the sight of the young nurses looking so downcast so close to Christmas was enough to make her bite the bullet. ‘Don’t worry, nurses, nothing is ever as bad as it seems, or so I am always being told. I have known Mrs Duffy for a very long time and I’m sure I can sort this out. Just give me ten minutes and don’t you dare open the sherry until I return – or eat all of those mince pies,’ she added over her shoulder as she left the room.

  *

  Emily popped her head around the kitchen door with much less confidence than she’d felt when addressing the anxious probationers. For the first time since she’d been a young nurse herself, living in the home, s
he felt that maybe she should wait to be invited in.

  Mrs Duffy was standing at the sink, elbow deep in soapy water, vigorously scrubbing at the mince pie tray as though it had just sworn at her. Her back was to Emily, her shoulders tense, and a thought passed through Emily’s mind as she watched her. How many hours of her life has that woman spent at that sink? They weren’t an average family. The nurses’ home housed twenty nurses and Mrs Duffy acted as a mother to all of them, albeit with help from the maids. She worked tirelessly in the kitchen, where she had no assistant, and until recently she’d had ration books to cope with as well.

  ‘Mrs Duffy…’ The words came out as a whisper. ‘May I come in?’

  There was no reply. Emily gulped. She stepped inside anyway and held the door as it clicked shut. She waited to see if Mrs Duffy would acknowledge that she was in the room. There was still no response other than the hot tap being opened with some ferocity to rinse the large baking bowl she had almost thrown into the sink after the tray.

  Emily could see there were still some dirty dishes on the table waiting to be washed and so she collected them up and carried them over. As gently as she could, in contrast to the crashing and banging coming from the butler’s sink, she said, ‘You forgot these.’

  Mrs Duffy didn’t look up. ‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ she said. ‘They will be done in good time.’

  Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief. If Mrs Duffy had turned around and slapped her, she could not have been more surprised. For a brief moment she felt as though she’d lost her breath. Gathering her thoughts and deciding that saying nothing was the best option, she laid the dishes down on the dirty side of the draining board and, pulling the tea towel from the hook, picked up the large bowl and began to dry it.