‘How are you enjoying your new posting?’
Charlotte was aware of Miss Fox watching them. She was saying goodbye to the other Trustees, but Charlotte could tell she was listening to their conversation.
‘I like it very much. Thank you, Sir.’
‘Good, good. Settling in all right?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Splendid.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m glad I caught you. When Miss Fox said you were doing the ward rounds, I feared I might not get the chance to see you.’
Charlotte caught the searching look in his eyes and glanced away. The other trustees had gone, leaving just the three of them in the passageway.
‘Well, if you’ll excuse me—’ she started to say, but Major McLaren cut her off.
‘I wonder, Miss Davis, would you care to walk with me to my car? There’s something I wish to discuss with you.’
‘I—’ Charlotte glanced at Miss Fox. ‘I’m not sure …’
‘I’m sure Matron can spare you for a few minutes?’ He turned to Miss Fox. ‘That would be all right, wouldn’t it?’
Charlotte willed her to say no, but of course Miss Fox nodded and said, ‘Of course, Major.’
‘Thank you.’ He turned back to Charlotte. ‘Shall we go?’
Charlotte took her time fetching her cloak and fastening it around her shoulders. ‘He’s just a friend,’ she told herself, murmuring the words under her breath. Just an old comrade from the war, taking a kindly interest in her. There was no need to feel flustered, or to think there was any more to it than that.
They walked downstairs in silence. Charlotte was careful to keep the width of the staircase between them, not wanting to betray the feelings that refused to go away.
Major Hugh, as they always called him, was fair-haired and good-looking in an aristocratic way, with sharp cheekbones, a firm jaw and a long, aquiline nose. But it was the kindness in his green eyes and the warmth in his smile that Charlotte had first noticed.
Finally, he turned to her and said, ‘How are you? Really, I mean?’
‘I’m very well, Major.’ She kept her gaze fixed ahead.
‘And you really are settling in all right?’ He sounded anxious.
‘Yes, thank you. I’m very grateful to you for finding me this post.’
‘Nonsense, they’re lucky to have you. A nurse of your abilities is hard to come by.’
Charlotte allowed herself a smile. I’m not sure Miss Fox would agree with you, she thought, but said nothing.
‘Bit different from the military life though, eh?’ he said wryly.
‘Yes, Sir.’ Charlotte didn’t want to tell him how much she missed the QAs. It was a hard life, but there was order and routine, and everyone knew where they stood. It didn’t matter whether you liked someone or not; you respected their rank and carried out your orders and that was that.
She had hoped that she might find a similar kind of life at the Nightingale, but she was surprised to find how difficult it was to fit in. There was still the same order and routine and respect that one might expect in any well-functioning hospital. But Charlotte had forgotten how personal hospital life could be. There were all kinds of friendships and grievances and alliances to be taken into account. One needed to tread more carefully, and that simply wasn’t Charlotte’s way. Not any more, at any rate. Somewhere, out there in the dirty business of war, she had forgotten how to deal with people.
But she could hardly tell that to Major Hugh. He had pulled so many strings to get this position for her, she didn’t wish to seem ungrateful.
They left the hospital building and stepped out into the cold, foggy air. Charlotte pulled her cloak more tightly around her. She could see the Major’s car waiting at the end of the long drive beyond the gates, his driver behind the wheel. Another fifty yards, and he would be gone.
‘Miss Fox tells me you’re organising the Christmas show?’ Major McLaren said.
‘That’s right.’
‘That sounds like a first-rate idea. It will help you make friends.’
Charlotte sent him a sharp glance. What had Miss Fox been telling him? But his face gave nothing away. ‘I don’t need friends,’ she said.
He smiled ruefully. ‘Everyone needs a friend, Charlotte.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Typical Nurse Davis! You always did like to keep yourself to yourself.’
‘You make it sound like a bad thing?’
‘There’s no harm in leaning on others occasionally. You don’t have to be strong all the time.’
That’s where you’re wrong, Charlotte thought. It was only by being strong that she had managed to survive.
She remembered the first time a soldier had died, a young artillery boy with pneumonia. He was just turned eighteen, the same age as her own brother. Charlotte had cried over him, but the matron at the field hospital had dragged her outside and shaken her by her shoulders.
‘You must not cry,’ she had ordered. ‘It’s silly and self-indulgent. Do you think it will do the rest of the men any good to see you weeping and wailing? You must be strong, or you’ll be no use to anyone.’
She had taken those words to heart, and they had stood her in good stead, especially in her last posting. While the other QAs had sobbed on each other’s shoulders, Charlotte had ploughed on, doing what needed to be done.
She had despised them for their weakness. Matron was right, they were silly and self-indulgent, and no use to anyone.
‘I don’t need to lean on anyone,’ she said.
‘No. Of course you don’t.’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘You’ve made that clear enough.’
Charlotte looked sideways at him. She knew Major Hugh would have liked her to lean on him. There was a time when she had wished she could, a time when she had longed to give in to the feelings she had for him. But that wasn’t her. She had grown so used to being strong, she had forgotten how to be anything else.
They reached the gates. The Major’s driver was out of the car, opening the door for him. Charlotte started to turn away from him, wanting to avoid the awkwardness of a long drawn-out goodbye, but he put out his hand, gently touching her arm, holding her back.
‘You know where I am, if you ever need me,’ he said softly.
She looked down at his gloved hand. She could feel its warmth through her woollen cloak.
‘Thank you, Major. You’ve been very kind.’
He sighed impatiently. ‘Kindness has nothing to do with it.’
‘I should be getting back,’ she said, shifting herself from his grasp.
‘Of course.’ His hand dropped back to his side. ‘I won’t keep you,’ he said shortly.
Charlotte walked away, not looking back at him. It was only when she heard his car drive off that she allowed herself to glance over her shoulder.
Dear Major Hugh. If she could ever have allowed anyone past her defences, it would have been him.
She returned to the office, where Matron was waiting for her, standing at her desk.
‘Has Major McLaren gone?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Matron.’
‘What did he want to speak to you about?’
Panic flared inside her. She glanced out of the window and said the first thing that came into her head. ‘The rebuilding work.’
Miss Fox’s mouth tightened. ‘He could have asked me about that. I am Matron, after all.’ She paused. ‘Did he ask about anything else?’
Charlotte read the look in her eyes. Did she suspect Charlotte was a spy, placed there by the Trustees to report on her? ‘No, Matron.’
Miss Fox picked up some papers from Charlotte’s desk, read through them, then put them down again. ‘You two seem very friendly?’ she remarked.
‘We were stationed together in Europe for a time,’ Charlotte said quietly.
‘Well, you must have made quite an impression on him,’ Miss Fox said. ‘He worked very hard to have you appointed to this hospital.’
Charlotte lowered her
gaze. ‘He’s been very kind to me.’
Kindness has nothing to do with it.
‘It must be nice to have friends in high places.’
Her comment stung. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have recommended me for the post if he didn’t think I was fit for it,’ Charlotte said, then regretted it when she saw the chilly look in Miss Fox’s eyes.
It wasn’t my idea to come here, she wanted to tell her. All she wanted was to prove she was worthy of the position, but Matron never seemed willing to give her a chance.
Perhaps the Christmas show would finally give her the opportunity to prove she could fit in.
With that in mind, Charlotte arrived early to the meeting that evening. She pushed back the long tables and set out the dining-room chairs in neat rows. Then she arranged a table and chair for herself at the front. She had just sat down when the double doors opened.
Charlotte looked up expectantly, only for her heart to sink again at the sight of Violet Tanner.
‘Oh, am I the first?’ She looked around the empty dining room.
‘Yes, but it isn’t six o’clock yet,’ Charlotte said defensively. ‘The others will be here soon.’
‘I’m sure they will.’
The ward sister took a seat in the middle of the front row, right in front of Charlotte. ‘You’ve certainly put out enough chairs,’ she said, smiling. ‘Are you expecting an army?’
Charlotte was saved from answering by the arrival of Miss Trott from Wren ward. Charlotte smiled with relief. At last, a friendly face. She liked Miriam Trott. They were of a similar mind, she decided. Like her, Miss Trott had no time for nonsense.
But the ward sister had been in rather a sulk when she had visited the ward that morning. Charlotte wasn’t sure why, but she suspected it had something to do with her questioning that pregnant patient’s due date. Miss Trott did not like her authority challenged.
Now the ward sister barely glanced her way as she looked around the room, her mouth downturned. ‘Are we the only ones here?’
‘So it seems,’ Miss Tanner replied. ‘But it isn’t six o’clock yet,’ she added, with a quick sideways glance at Charlotte.
‘Hmm.’
As Miss Trott plonked herself down in the middle row, Charlotte cleared her throat. ‘Miss Trott, would you mind moving down to the front?’ she asked.
Miss Trott looked at her for the first time. ‘May I ask why?’
‘I want to keep all the ranks separate from each other.’
Now it was Miss Tanner’s turn to frown at her. ‘Is that necessary, Assistant Matron?’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think so,’ Charlotte replied, irritated.
‘Yes, but surely—’
‘Oh, don’t argue with her, Violet!’ Miss Trott said irritably as she shifted along the row to sit beside Miss Tanner. ‘You should know by now that Miss Davis always knows best.’ She glared at her as she said it.
Charlotte stifled a sigh. It was only a simple request yet somehow she had already managed to upset the only two people in the room. She only hoped the rest of the meeting would go more smoothly.
Over the next few minutes, more people started to arrive. They came in dribs and drabs, a few with confidence, others giggling and looking embarrassed. There were nurses, ward sisters and orderlies, plus a few medical students and junior doctors. They stood at the back in their white coats, laughing and joking among themselves.
Charlotte busily arranged the other nurses into their rows, sisters at the front, then staff nurses, students and probationers, and finally the porters at the back. All the while she was conscious of Miss Tanner watching her from the front row, silently passing judgement.
Finally, when she was satisfied by the neat rows of grey dresses, then blue, then striped, she called the meeting to order.
‘Can we all pay attention, please?’ she called out, sternly eyeing the two third-year students from Wren ward who were giggling together on the end of the row. They fell silent, their heads down, shoulders still shaking with mirth. ‘Now, as you know, Matron has given me the task of organising this year’s Christmas show—’
‘God help us!’ someone muttered from the back of the room. Charlotte looked up sharply, but rows of blank faces stared back at her, giving nothing away.
‘I have come up with a list of suggestions for songs and recitations that I feel would be suitable for inclusion—’ She produced the piece of paper she had been working on late into the previous night. ‘I suggest that over the next day or two you all take the chance to look at the list and put your names beside the piece you would like to perform.’
‘Pardon me, Assistant Matron, but that is not how we have done things before,’ Miss Trott piped up from the front row.
‘No, indeed,’ Sister Theatre agreed beside her. ‘In the past we always came up with our own suggestions and gave them to Miss Wallace, Sister Blake as was, and she made the list from there.’
‘Yes, well, I believe this is a more efficient way of getting things done,’ Charlotte said.
‘Yes, but Miss Wallace—’
‘Miss Wallace is no longer here, is she?’ Charlotte snapped.
‘More’s the pity,’ a voice muttered in the front row.
Charlotte straightened her shoulders, taking control. ‘I am in charge of this event, and this is the way I have decided I want to do things,’ she announced. ‘Things will go much more smoothly if we do it my way.’
She looked along the rows of faces. A few murmurs of discontent rippled around the room, while others simply glared at her in silence.
‘May I see this list of yours?’ Miss Trott held out her hand imperiously from the front row. Charlotte was about to refuse, but then she saw the ward sister’s mutinous expression and handed it over.
Miss Trott perused the list, with Sister Holmes and Sister Hyde looking over her shoulder on either side.
‘I don’t see Mr Hopkins’ usual monologue on here?’ Sister Hyde remarked.
‘That’s one blessing, I suppose,’ one of the junior doctors said, and everyone laughed.
‘I don’t see my solo, either.’ Miss Trott looked up at Charlotte accusingly.
‘Your solo, Miss Trott?’
‘I always perform “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”. Everyone expects it.’
‘I’m sure no one will mind if you sing something else this year,’ Charlotte said politely.
Miss Trott blinked at her. ‘But I don’t know any of these songs.’
‘Then you’ll have to learn, won’t you?’ Suddenly the room seemed very hot, in spite of the cold outside. Charlotte could feel perspiration building up under her linen headdress. ‘It will make a nice change for you, I’m sure.’
‘We’ve all had a bit too much change around here, if you ask me,’ Miss Trott muttered.
More grumbling went around the room. In the back row, Atkins laughed out loud at something the man beside her had said.
‘Will you be quiet back there?’ Charlotte turned on her furiously. ‘If you don’t want to listen to what I have to say then you can leave now.’
Atkins’ face flooded red with mortification. Beside her, the man shot Charlotte a dirty look.
‘The list will be on the wall next to Matron’s office,’ Charlotte went on. ‘I expect the names to be filled in by the end of this week, and we will be starting rehearsals next Monday. That will be all, thank you.’
Everyone shuffled out, their heads down, muttering among themselves. Charlotte watched them go, miserably aware that the meeting hadn’t quite gone as she had hoped.
As if to make matters even worse, Miss Tanner had witnessed every painful minute of it. No doubt she would be scurrying straight off to Matron with all the details.
Charlotte refused to meet the ward sister’s eye as she gathered up her papers. But a moment later she was aware of Miss Tanner approaching the table.
‘May I offer you some advice, Miss Davis?’ she said.
No, Charlotte thought,
but I’m sure you will anyway. ‘Of course.’ She managed a brittle smile.
‘Try to remember that everyone is here out of goodwill, and because they think it might be fun. If you start ordering them about, you may not have a show on your hands.’
‘So you think I should turn it into some kind of free-for-all?’ Charlotte said bitterly. ‘That sounds like a recipe for chaos.’
‘I’m only saying you should try to stay on the right side of them, if you can,’ Miss Tanner replied. ‘Honestly, Miss Davis, what does it matter if Miss Trott performs her blessed solo, or Mr Hopkins does yet another of his endless monologues, as long as the show goes on and everyone enjoys themselves?’
Charlotte stared at her. That was so typical of Miss Tanner’s easy-going, lackadaisical attitude. She had no idea about the importance of following orders.
‘Thank you for your advice,’ she managed stiffly. ‘I’ll certainly bear it in mind.’
Charlotte half expected Miss Tanner to raise the matter in front of Matron the following morning when they did their ward round. She certainly wouldn’t have put it past her to try to stir up trouble.
But Miss Tanner seemed rather preoccupied when they arrived, and not at all her usual smiling self. She trailed round behind them, offering only the barest details about the patients as they went. Even when the repulsive Mr Donnegan made one of his off-colour remarks at Charlotte’s expense, Miss Tanner didn’t crack a smile.
It was a relief not to have to listen to her chattering away to Matron. Better still, Charlotte was able to point out a thin film of dust on one of the bedside lockers, and a water jug that had not been refilled. But best of all was when she spotted a patient’s temperature chart had been filled in with the wrong time beside it.
Miss Tanner frowned. ‘Are you sure? I’m certain I checked it.’
‘See for yourself.’ Charlotte thrust the chart under her nose. She glanced sideways at Miss Fox as she did it, and was gratified to see a look of concern on the matron’s face.
Miss Tanner stared at the figures. ‘I don’t understand,’ she murmured.
‘I do,’ Charlotte said. ‘Someone made a mistake, and you didn’t notice it. It’s as simple as that.’
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 5
