‘Yes.’ Kathleen pulled herself together with effort. ‘There’s something I want you to do.’
‘Yes, Matron?’
‘I have decided we should have a Christmas show, and I want you to organise it.’
The Assistant Matron’s expression fell slightly. ‘A Christmas show, Matron?’
‘Yes, Miss Davis.’ Kathleen felt her impatience rise. Her encounter with James Cooper had left her emotions in a turmoil. ‘Surely you know what I’m talking about?’
‘Well yes, Matron.’ She looked perplexed. ‘But I’m not sure I’m the right person to organise such an event. I don’t think I’d know where to start …’
‘Well, you’ll have to work it out, won’t you?’ Kathleen saw the young woman’s face fall and felt a pang of guilt. ‘I’m sure the other nurses will help you,’ she said, more kindly. ‘Perhaps you could ask Miss Tanner for advice, if you get stuck—’
Miss Davis stiffened instantly, drawing herself upright. ‘It’s quite all right, Matron, I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Kathleen said, her moment of sympathy disappearing. Miss Davis had seemed almost human for a moment, but now she was back to her chilly self. ‘You’d best get on with it,’ she said, handing her the duty rosters.
Miss Davis left, closing the door softly behind her. Kathleen looked out of the window over the broken rooftops, and thought about James Cooper.
We’ve tried to do the right thing, now surely it’s time for us to be happy.
If she was really honest with herself, James Cooper had been the only thing keeping her at the Nightingale. Much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had clung to the thought that one day they would be working together again. She knew they couldn’t be together, but it might be enough for her starved heart to see him from afar.
I asked you once before and you turned me down. Now I’m asking you again. One last chance for us. What do you say?
She caught sight of her reflection in the glass and was startled at the old woman who stared back at her. The war had aged her. Every time she looked in the mirror she was dismayed by the lines she saw fanning out from her grey eyes, and the sad droop of her mouth. She looked every one of her fifty years.
She felt them, too. Deep inside, she was too weary to carry on. All the energy and fight had drained out of her, sapped by the war. She no longer cared about the Nightingale, or if and when the building work would be completed. The thought of another ten years sitting behind this desk no longer filled her with excitement.
Why shouldn’t she follow her heart while she still had time? She had spent years doing the right thing, devoting her life to the Nightingale. Now fate had given her a second chance.
She went back to her desk and pulled a sheet of notepaper from the drawer. As she did, she paused, waiting for Miss Hanley’s voice. But for once the Assistant Matron was silent, and no shadows hovered over her as she picked up her pen.
One way or another, come Christmas Day she would have made her decision to leave the Nightingale.
Charlotte
1st December 1945
Charlotte Davis sat at her desk in the outer office, utterly perplexed and not a little troubled. It was not like her to be out of her depth and she didn’t like it.
She stared down at the blank sheet of paper on which she had written just two words: Christmas Show. Not a single idea had sprung into her head in the half-hour she had been looking at it. For once, her mind seemed to have gone blank with panic.
She raised her gaze to Matron’s office door. Why would Miss Fox even think to give her such a responsibility? She usually relished a challenge, but even she had to admit she was entirely unsuited for this particular task.
She had done her best to convey her dismay, but Miss Fox had either not noticed or she had chosen to ignore her. And Charlotte couldn’t refuse outright because she was desperate to make a good impression on her new matron. She was already aware that Miss Fox didn’t much care for her.
She tasted blood and realised she was biting her nails. They had grown back since she returned to England but now her cuticles were raw and ragged where she had started worrying at them again.
Come on, Charlotte, you’re just being silly. She picked up her fountain pen and forced herself to think. Surely it could not be that hard? After all, she had tackled much more difficult tasks over the past few years.
At the age of twenty-one, she had evacuated a hospital under German fire, escaping in an ambulance with wounded patients. Within a year, she was back behind enemy lines, treating injured soldiers in a Casualty Clearing Station. Later, she had nursed four hundred men in a field hospital with space for half that number, begging and cajoling food and supplies from locals when their own rations ran out. And later …
Her mind shied away. What had happened later was something she could never allow herself to think about.
At any rate, after everything she had been through, surely getting a few doctors and nurses to perform a simple show for the patients couldn’t be too difficult. All she had to do was make a start.
But how?
Christmas Show. She looked down at the words, neatly written at the top of the page.
She knew what was expected, of course. The hospital where she trained in Surrey had put on a show for the patients every Christmas. And when she was stationed abroad, the QAs would try to organise some kind of festive entertainment to cheer themselves up and raise the spirits of the wounded men.
Charlotte tried to cast her mind back to her student days, ten years earlier. Goodness, it seemed like a lifetime ago now. She could remember the dining hall filled with patients, rows of them in their dressing gowns, some in wheelchairs, singing and laughing and clapping their hands in time to the out-of-tune piano played enthusiastically by the Home Sister, Miss Clegg.
Charlotte had been such a giddy young girl then, painting her face and dressing up with the other nurses. She remembered standing on the makeshift stage, shaking maracas made from bedpan bottles while one of the medical students gave a spirited rendition of ‘The Peanut Vendor’. She remembered the black wig she wore, and how it kept slipping over her eyes as she jiggled about …
She caught herself smiling at the memory, and stopped abruptly. That girl was long gone, and the less she thought about her, the better.
She shook herself mentally. This was not like her. She had a job to do, and she was never one to shirk her responsibilities. It was only a silly Christmas show, after all. She didn’t know why she was making so much fuss about it.
So what to do first? Muster the troops, she decided. Then she could get everyone organised and give them their orders.
She put aside the piece of paper and instead drew up some notices, summoning the staff to a meeting in the dining hall the following evening. Then she took them round to each ward.
She went first to Parry, the children’s ward. As she approached the double doors, she could hear the sound of childish laughter drifting up the corridor. Curious, she swung them open, only to be greeted by complete disarray.
The long table in the centre of the ward was strewn with pots of glue, scissors and piles of paper scraps. Half a dozen children sat around the table, a couple busily cutting the paper into strips which the others glued together. They were supervised – if that was indeed the word – by Atkins, a middle-aged woman who volunteered on the ward.
They were so occupied with their various tasks, no one noticed Charlotte until she cleared her throat and said, ‘What is going on here?’
The children fell silent, all eyes swivelling in her direction. Atkins jumped up, smoothing her apron down. Paper fluttered around her in a snowfall.
‘Assistant Matron!’ she stuttered, a blush rising in her face. There was a scrap of wallpaper stuck to her sleeve, Charlotte noticed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I was just making paper chains with the kids.’
Charlotte stared at the woman with dislike. She never knew qu
ite what to make of Peggy Atkins. From what she understood, she had arrived as a part of the Voluntary Aid Detachment when women were first conscripted three years earlier. But six months after the war ended she was still there, turning up every day for duty. She still wore the blue dress of a VAD, but her plain white apron no longer bore the Red Cross.
The sight of her irritated Charlotte’s sense of order. Peggy Atkins was neither fish nor fowl, as far as she was concerned. She had no official nursing qualifications, apart from her basic VAD training, and she was far too old to be considered a student. But for some reason the ward sister of Parry seemed to think she was indispensable.
‘Making a mess, more like,’ she snapped. She looked around the ward. ‘Where is Sister Parry?’
‘Bed eight, Miss, helping Nurse Tovey give an injection.’
‘Is Nurse Tovey not capable of giving an injection by herself?’
‘Oh yes, Miss, but the little boy gets a bit upset so Sister likes to be there to help calm him down, if she can.’
‘I see.’ Charlotte looked with distaste at the child closest to her, a small girl in a patched dressing gown. Thick rivulets of mucus ran from her nose, pooling on her top lip.
At that moment Sister Parry herself appeared from behind the screen around bed eight, rolling down her sleeves.
‘Hello, Assistant Matron. I thought I heard your voice.’ She took the starched cuffs from her apron pocket and fastened them in place. A stray curl of red hair escaped from beneath her linen bonnet.
Dora Riley was another one Charlotte could not understand. Whoever heard of a married nurse? She appreciated that they had needed women with Riley’s experience and training at one time, but as far as the Assistant Matron was concerned, these messy remnants of the war should have been tidied away a long time ago. They certainly should not be acting as ward sisters. Women like Riley and Atkins made a mockery of her profession.
And the shambles on the ward proved it. ‘Sister.’ Charlotte looked back at the scene in front of her. ‘I was just commenting on the mess I see before me.’
‘Oh, it’s only a bit of glue and paper. It can easily be cleared up,’ Sister Parry said cheerfully. Even her ghastly cockney accent grated on Charlotte. ‘It’s better that the children are busy and enjoying themselves, don’t you think? It’s no fun being in hospital when you’re a kid, especially at this time of year.’
‘The children should not be out of bed,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘This is a hospital, Sister. They are here to recover.’
‘They’ll recover quicker if they’ve got something to keep them occupied, surely?’
She was smiling as she said it, but there was a hint of insolence in her muddy green eyes. Charlotte would have liked to put her in her place, but Matron in her infinite wisdom had made her a ward sister so Charlotte had no choice but to respect her rank.
‘Get it cleaned up, if you please,’ she said shortly. ‘And have this put up where the nurses can see it.’ She thrust the piece of paper at her. ‘Tell everyone I expect to see them at the meeting tomorrow evening.’
‘Yes, Assistant Matron.’
As Charlotte walked away, she heard Atkins’ muffled snort of laughter, but she didn’t turn round. She had a nasty feeling Dora Riley would be making a face behind her back.
On Jarvis, she hoped to catch Miss Tanner in a similar state of disarray, but to her frustration the ward was immaculate.
Violet Tanner greeted her with a smile. ‘Two visits in one day, Assistant Matron? We are honoured.’
Charlotte stared up into the woman’s dark eyes. As with Matron, she never quite knew whether the ward sister was making fun of her or not.
‘This is not a social call, Sister,’ she said.
‘I never imagined it would be. So what can I do for you?’
Her smug smile disappeared when she saw the notice Charlotte handed her.
‘Miss Fox never told me you were organising the Christmas show?’ She sounded stunned.
‘Perhaps she didn’t realise she had to ask your permission,’ Charlotte replied sweetly.
Miss Tanner ignored the barb, still staring at the piece of paper in her hand. ‘Actually, I thought she might – but it doesn’t matter.’
You thought she might ask you to do it? Charlotte finished for her silently. She smiled to herself, feeling a brief flare of satisfaction.
The friendship between Matron and Miss Tanner had always rankled with her. They were forever having whispered conversations together and sharing little private jokes.
The next moment Violet’s frown had disappeared and she was smiling again. ‘I’ll certainly be at the meeting,’ she said. ‘And if you need any help with organising the show, I’d be happy to help.’
I’m sure you would, Charlotte thought sourly. And wouldn’t Miss Tanner just love that? She would be very quick to tell her friend Miss Fox all about it, too. And she would make sure she took all the credit.
The ward sister’s so-called kindness might fool everyone else, but not Charlotte. She knew exactly what Violet Tanner was up to.
It was plain to her that Miss Tanner thought she should be in Charlotte’s place. And Miss Fox felt the same. Together, they seemed to go out of their way to make her feel left out.
But not any more.
‘I’m sure I can manage by myself,’ she said.
‘Well, you know where I am if you change your mind. I’d hate to think of you struggling.’
Charlotte almost laughed at that. She made up her mind there and then that whatever happened she would manage this show all by herself. And she would make a big success of it.
This was her chance to prove herself to Miss Fox once and for all, and she meant to take it.
Miss Fox was already at her desk the following morning. Charlotte glimpsed her through the half-open door to her office as she hung up her cloak on the stand. The matron looked tired, and Charlotte wondered if it had anything at all to do with the handsome man who had come to her office the previous day. Miss Fox had been very subdued since his visit.
‘Good morning, Matron,’ she greeted her. She took off her gloves and warmed her hands briefly before the crackling fire. It was another freezing day, and even the short walk from the sisters’ home had been enough to chill her to the bone. ‘The fog is settling in. I could barely find my way in this morning.’
She glanced back through the half-open door. Matron was in the middle of composing a letter, from what she could see. A difficult letter, by the look of it. She was lost in her own world, the pen still in her hand.
Charlotte took her seat behind her desk, carefully smoothing her thick cotton dress under her to stop it from creasing. But no sooner had she picked up her own pen than Miss Fox appeared in the doorway.
‘You will have to do the morning rounds on your own this morning, Miss Davis. I have a meeting with the Board of Trustees.’
Charlotte glanced up. ‘The Trustees are coming here? Today?’
‘Yes. They’re due in at ten o’clock.’ She gave Charlotte a quizzical frown. ‘You seem dismayed, Miss Davis. Is something wrong?’
‘No. No, nothing’s wrong, Matron.’ Charlotte glanced away quickly. ‘Of course I will carry out the ward rounds by myself.’
‘I’m sure you’ll rather enjoy it,’ Matron said.
Charlotte watched the door to her office closing firmly, shutting her out. She wasn’t sure why she annoyed Matron so much. All she ever wanted was to do her best.
And Miss Fox was right, she did enjoy doing the ward rounds by herself. She managed to get through them far more efficiently than she ever did with Matron, who would insist on stopping to chat to everyone, not just the new admissions and the patients due for discharge that day.
Miss Tanner was waiting for her outside the doors to Jarvis ward, lined up with the other nurses. When Charlotte started to explain why Miss Fox would not be joining them, Miss Tanner said, ‘Oh yes, she did mention she had a meeting with the Board of Trustees this morning.’
There was no mistaking the glint in her dark eyes. You see, her look said. She does tell me everything.
Charlotte gritted her teeth. ‘Shall we get on?’
To her annoyance, the ward was once again in perfect order, with nothing for her to pick on. Charlotte ran her finger along the bed rails and carefully measured each turned-down sheet, but try as she might she could not find a single fault.
‘I hope everything was to your satisfaction, Assistant Matron?’ Miss Tanner said, when they had finished.
‘It’s quite acceptable,’ she replied, tight-lipped.
‘High praise indeed.’
Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, then decided against it. She might be senior in rank, but she knew she was no match for Miss Tanner’s quick tongue.
As she turned to go, Miss Tanner called after her, ‘I’ll see you this evening.’
Charlotte looked back at her blankly. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The meeting. About the Christmas show?’
‘Oh, yes. You’re coming, then?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Assistant Matron.’ Was that a smirk on her face? Whatever it was, Charlotte didn’t trust it.
She returned to Matron’s office just as the Trustees’ meeting was coming to an end. As Charlotte rounded the corner, they were walking up the passage towards her with Miss Fox. Charlotte had no choice but to stand where she was and wait to greet them.
There were six trustees, but Charlotte only noticed him. She picked him out immediately, standing head and shoulders above the others. Even in civvies, he still had the tall, straight, military bearing of an officer.
Major Hugh McLaren, late of the Royal Artillery Regiment.
She took a deep breath, and fought down the treacherous flutter in her stomach.
He looked up, saw her and smiled. ‘Miss Davis.’
‘Hello, Major.’
As he walked towards her, her hand automatically went up in salute, only to falter halfway and fall back to her side. He noticed the gesture, his green eyes twinkling.
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 4
