‘Peggy will help,’ Eric’s voice cut across them. ‘She’s always wanted another baby, ever since our John passed away …’
The mention of John’s name galvanised Peggy, bringing her sharply to her senses. She brought her spoon down with a clatter, shocking them all.
‘Don’t you ever mention my boy’s name,’ she hissed.
Four faces turned to look up at her in surprise. It was as if they had forgotten she was even there.
She stood up, untying her apron strings with shaking hands.
‘Peggy?’ Eric’s voice wavered uncertainly. ‘Peg, where are you going?’
‘Out.’
‘Yes, but where?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘Who’s going to serve the Christmas pudding?’ Nellie wanted to know.
‘What time will you be back?’ She could hear the panic in Eric’s voice as he followed her into the hall and watched her put on her coat. ‘You will be back, won’t you? Peggy?’
‘That I can’t say.’
‘I don’t want you to go.’ His voice was plaintive now, wheedling.
She looked at him, thinking how weak he looked. ‘I reckon I’m past caring what you want any more, Eric Atkins.’
She went towards the front door but Eric barred her way. Peggy glared at him. ‘Let me pass.’
‘Not until you tell me where you’re going.’
She sighed and shoved him out of the way.
‘You’re not to go. I’m your husband and I’m telling you I forbid it—’
Those words were the last she heard as she slammed the door.
The hospital was deserted. Everyone was in the dining hall, enjoying the Christmas show. Peggy thought about sneaking in to watch, but as she approached the main hospital block she realised she couldn’t face it, and headed instead for the courtyard.
The bench was covered in snow. Peggy brushed a space for herself and sat down, gathering her coat around her. If she hadn’t left in such haste she would have remembered her gloves and scarf.
Sister Parry had once told her about when she worked in Casualty, and some of the horrific accidents she had treated. She had seen men with limbs hanging off, who laughed and joked with the nurses and hardly seemed aware of what had happened to them because their brains hadn’t yet assimilated it.
That was how she felt. She knew she should be devastated by Eric and Pearl’s betrayal, but her brain had yet to take it all in.
She couldn’t even feel shock at what they had done. They had gone on and done as they pleased and never taken her feelings into account because they had never had to. It probably hadn’t occurred to them that she even had feelings. Pearl, Eric, his mother … they all just took what they wanted from her.
‘Peggy?’
She looked up to see a figure approaching across the snowy courtyard. A tall, burly man dressed in a red coat with a long white beard.
Her heart leapt at the sight of him. ‘Bill!’
‘What are you doing here?’
She smiled sadly. ‘I had nowhere else to go.’
‘Do you mind if I sit with you, or would you rather be on your own?’
She gazed up into his kindly eyes, twinkling above his beard. ‘I wouldn’t mind some company,’ she said.
He brushed the snow from the seat and sat down beside her, carefully arranging his red coat around him.
‘You’ve been up to the ward, then?’ she said. ‘How did it go?’
‘It went well. I was glad I did it, in the end.’
‘I bet the kids loved it.’
‘They did.’ He smiled at the memory.
They lapsed into silence for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts. Then Peggy said, ‘I thought you’d be in the show?’
He shook his head. ‘The show’s finished, on account of one of the patients going into labour.’
Peggy turned to him. ‘You what?’
‘A woman had a baby backstage.’
‘Never!’
‘It’s true. Right in the middle of Mr Hopkins’ monologue, too. He wasn’t best pleased, I can tell you.’
Peggy laughed in spite of herself. ‘Well I never. Sounds like that was the highlight of the show. You ain’t going to top that with your magic act, Bill!’
‘I know. Pulling a rabbit out of a top hat don’t compare, does it?’ He looked rueful.
They lapsed into silence again. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Bill asked.
Peggy shook her head. ‘Not really.’
He nudged her. ‘Well, whatever it is you’re going through, Peggy, I know you’ll get through it. You’re a strong girl.’
‘I don’t feel like it at the moment.’
‘I know, but you will. Things will sort themselves out for the best, you’ll see.’
‘I hope so, Bill.’
He got to his feet. ‘I dunno about you, but I wouldn’t mind going back indoors. It’s a bit nippy out here. What do you say we see if they’ve put the show back on? Or you never know, that woman might be giving birth to twins.’
She smiled wearily. ‘That might be nice. I could do with a laugh.’
‘I almost forgot,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a present for you.’
He reached into his coat and produced a bunch of paper flowers with a flourish.
Peggy beamed. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘You’re welcome. Shall we go?’ He offered her his hand and after a moment’s hesitation she took it.
Kathleen
25th December 1945
The Christmas show was in full swing, but Kathleen hardly paid any attention to the performers on the stage. She was too busy staring at the clock on the far wall of the dining hall.
Nearly seven o’clock. James must have gone by now, she decided. He and Simone would be on a cruise ship, heading across the Atlantic, bound for their new life.
She wondered if he had waited for her. Her heart ached at the thought of him lingering on the dockside while everyone embarked, scanning around him, looking for her.
Or perhaps he had forgotten her already? Perhaps he had become so caught up in the excitement of preparing for his new life that he couldn’t wait to board the ship, hoping all the while that she wouldn’t embarrass him by turning up …
Of course he waited for you. He’s been waiting for four years.
Miss Hanley’s voice intruded on her thoughts, so clearly that Kathleen looked at the seat beside her, thinking the Assistant Matron might somehow be there. Major McLaren smiled quizzically back at her.
‘Everything all right, Matron?’ he asked.
‘Fine, thank you.’
‘Good show, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Miss Davis has done an excellent job.’ Pride shone in his face.
‘Yes, she has.’
‘Pity about that woman running off the stage just now, but still, that’s hardly Miss Davis’s fault, is it?’
‘No indeed.’ Kathleen turned her attention back to the stage.
I couldn’t do it. She silently addressed the voice in her head. I could never be the one to break up his marriage …
His marriage was over long before you came along. You were just too afraid to take the risk and go with him.
Perhaps she was right, Kathleen thought. Either way, it was too late for her and James Cooper. But there was still time for her to make a new start of her own.
Her resignation letter had been written, and was in her bag. As soon as the show was over, she was going to post it.
There was nothing for her at the Nightingale any more. Once the hospital had been like a home to her, a place where she truly felt she belonged. The staff had been her extended family. But the war had ended all that. Now when she looked around, all she could see were strangers, fractured relationships. It was no longer a place of warmth and friendship.
It was no longer a place she wanted to be, not any more.
Further along the front row, a woman let out a loud moan. B
eside her, the Major leapt to his feet.
‘Good lord, what was that?’
Kathleen turned round, just in time to see Mrs Goodwood fall to her hands and knees. She was making a strange grunting sound, like a wounded animal.
The rest of the audience started to gather round her, but she seemed oblivious to them as she wailed and moaned in pain.
Kathleen edged her way through the throng. ‘Everybody stand back, please, give her some air.’ She dropped to her knees beside Mrs Goodwood. ‘What is it, my dear? What’s wrong? Is the baby coming?’
‘Of course the baby isn’t coming!’ Mrs Goodwood snapped through clenched teeth. ‘It’s not due for another month.’
‘Well, something is happening, that’s for sure.’ Kathleen looked around. ‘Where is Miss Trott?’
‘I don’t know, Matron,’ Nurse Baker said, her astonished gaze still fixed on Mrs Goodwood. ‘No one’s seen her since she ran off the stage.’
‘Find her, please. And ask one of the porters to fetch a wheelchair. Mrs Goodwood needs to get back to the labour ward.’
‘I’m not in labour – aah!’ Mrs Goodwood let out another low moan of agony.
‘I think this is more than a bad case of indigestion, my dear.’ Kathleen got to her feet, brushing off her uniform.
Miss Davis moved in, taking charge. ‘Can the sisters please get everyone back to their wards?’ she called out.
‘But we haven’t seen the end of the show,’ Mr Donnegan complained. ‘I want to watch the finale.’
‘I reckon you’re watching it, Percy mate!’ his friend Mr Church chimed in. ‘Oops, looks like the fun’s over,’ he nodded to Miss Davis who advanced on them. Her arms flung wide, like a sheep herder.
The porter arrived with the wheelchair at the same time as Miss Trott appeared. She looked very flushed, Kathleen noticed, as she pushed her way through the crowd.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, unfastening her starched cuffs.
‘I think Mrs Goodwood might be in labour,’ Kathleen told her.
‘But it’s not due for—’
‘Yes, we know!’ Kathleen cut her off impatiently. ‘We were about to take her to the labour ward.’
‘I’ll examine her first.’ Miriam nodded to the porter. ‘Get her on to the stage, please. We’ll pull the curtains around her, give her some privacy.’
It took two porters to haul Mrs Goodwood’s bulky body up on to the platform. Kathleen slipped inside the curtains and watched as Miss Trott examined her.
‘Well?’ she said.
Miss Trott looked up at her, white-faced. ‘The baby is coming,’ she confirmed.
Kathleen sighed. ‘I think we all knew that, Miss Trott.’
‘No, Matron, you don’t understand. The baby is coming now, this minute!’ Miss Trott paused for a moment as she continued her examination. ‘I can see the head.’
Kathleen darted back through the curtains and instantly began directing the nurses to bring towels, sheets, hot water and equipment.
‘Can I help, Matron?’ Dr Armstrong stepped forward.
Kathleen looked him up and down. He was hardly dressed for a medical procedure, in his striped blazer, bow tie and false handlebar moustache that reached past his ears.
‘Thank you, Dr Armstrong, I’ll let you know if you’re needed,’ she said kindly.
As it happened, Mrs Goodwood didn’t need any assistance. Miss Trott didn’t so much deliver the baby as catch him in mid-air as he slipped into the world five minutes later.
Kathleen emerged from the curtains, dazed, as Miss Davis and Violet Tanner returned from shepherding the patients back to their beds.
‘Has she gone to the delivery room?’ Violet asked.
‘It was too late for that,’ Kathleen said.
Miss Davis stared at her. ‘You mean—’
A lusty wail went up from behind the curtains. ‘A boy,’ Kathleen said. ‘We haven’t had a chance to weigh him yet, but he looks a healthy size.’
Miss Davis looked triumphant. ‘What did I tell you? I knew she was big for her dates.’
‘You certainly did, Miss Davis.’
‘It’ll be a nice Christmas surprise for Mr Goodwood, anyway,’ Violet said.
‘Oh yes, he’s in for a surprise, all right.’ Kathleen couldn’t help smiling.
Miss Davis frowned quizzically. ‘What is it, Matron?’
‘I think you’d better go and see the baby.’
Miss Davis disappeared behind the curtain and returned a moment later. ‘I see what you mean,’ she said quietly.
‘What’s going on?’ Violet looked from one to the other.
‘The baby clearly has a … different parentage from the one you might expect,’ Kathleen chose her words carefully.
‘He’s coloured,’ Miss Davis put it more bluntly.
‘Ah.’ Violet nodded knowingly. ‘I see.’
‘My guess is that his father might have been one of those American GIs we had around here during the war,’ Kathleen said.
‘It seems Mrs Goodwood may have offered him more than a cup of tea and a piece of cake from her WVS trolley,’ Miss Davis said. ‘That’s taking hospitality a bit too far, I think.’
Kathleen and Violet looked at each other and roared with laughter. Miss Davis looked from one to the other.
‘Is something amusing?’ She looked genuinely perplexed.
‘Oh, Miss Davis! You made a joke.’
‘Did I?’ Miss Davis considered it for a moment. ‘Yes, I suppose I did, didn’t I?’ She looked pleased with herself, like a child who had learned to amuse the adults with a party trick.
‘But I don’t think even Mr Goodwood will be in as big a state of shock as Miss Trott,’ Kathleen said. ‘The poor woman looked utterly devastated.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Violet said. ‘Mrs Goodwood was her idea of the perfect woman.’
‘And this American GI’s, apparently,’ Miss Davis murmured. Kathleen and Violet laughed again, and this time Miss Davis joined in with them.
They were still laughing when Major McLaren appeared. ‘Is the coast clear?’ he asked. ‘I thought I’d best make myself scarce once the lady went into labour.’
‘It was probably for the best, Major,’ Kathleen said.
‘I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed the show.’ He addressed himself to Miss Davis. He seemed quite dazzled by her, Kathleen noticed.
‘It wasn’t quite what I had intended,’ she said, lowering her gaze.
‘Nevertheless, it was splendid.’
‘It was a joint effort. Wasn’t it, Miss Tanner?’ Miss Davis smiled at Violet.
‘Ah, so this is Miss Tanner?’ Major McLaren turned to Violet. ‘I was coming to look for you.’
‘Me?’ Violet looked puzzled.
‘I have someone outside waiting to see you.’
‘Who?’
‘Your mother.’
Violet staggered back a step, as if she’d been dealt a blow. ‘My mother? But I don’t understand—’
‘I asked the Major if he could help to find her,’ Miss Davis said.
‘I still have a few contacts, so it didn’t take long.’ Major McLaren grinned. ‘It was just good luck that she had moved out to Aldershot, and had started working for a military family. But I must say she was rather wary about coming here tonight. She seemed fairly convinced you wouldn’t want to see her.’
‘Where is she?’ Violet whispered.
‘She’s waiting outside. Better go quickly, before she changes her mind. I had the devil’s own job to get her here.’
Violet looked at Kathleen, who nodded her assent. ‘Go,’ she said.
As Violet hurried off, Miss Davis turned to Major McLaren. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘You’re most welcome. I told you, didn’t I? Any time you needed anything, all you have to do is call.’
Miss Davis looked away, embarrassed. Kathleen looked from one to the other, willing one of them to say something.
Major McLaren straightened his shoulders, his hands locked behind his back. ‘Anyway, I suppose I’d best be going,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Miss Davis said. Neither of them moved.
Then, finally, Major McLaren seemed to galvanise himself. ‘Merry Christmas, Miss Davis. Matron.’
‘Merry Christmas, Major.’
Kathleen noticed how Miss Davis’s gaze followed him longingly from the dining hall, as if she couldn’t quite bear to let him go.
‘You know he wants you to go after him, don’t you?’ she said.
Miss Davis frowned, uncomprehending. ‘I beg your pardon, Matron?’
‘He’s in love with you, Miss Davis. And if I’m not mistaken, you feel the same about him.’
‘I – well, that is, I couldn’t – I don’t—’ Miss Davis stared down at her shoes, red with mortification.
Kathleen sighed impatiently. ‘What are you waiting for, girl? Go after him before it’s too late!’
‘Yes, Matron!’ Miss Davis broke into a smile, and suddenly Kathleen saw a glimpse of a happy, carefree young woman under the severe mask she wore.
She looks happy, Miss Hanley observed.
‘Yes, she does. I hope we’ll see her smiling more in the future.’
She looked around the dining hall. Miss Davis was right, the show hadn’t been exactly what she had intended. But it had still achieved what Kathleen had hoped. It had brought everyone together, and created some memories they would all laugh about in the years to come.
You’ve done a good job, Matron, Miss Hanley said.
It’s a start, Kathleen thought. But there was still so much to do, so much to put right …
‘Matron?’ Kathleen turned round. Sister Hyde stood in the doorway, smiling as usual.
‘The other sisters and I were thinking we might partake of a small sherry, just by way of a Christmas celebration. We wondered if you’d care to join us?’
Kathleen smiled. ‘I’d love to, Sister. But I have something I need to do first.’
Sister Hyde nodded. ‘We’ll see you in the common room of the sisters’ home later.’
‘Thank you.’
Outside, the full moon illuminated the snow, turning it an eerie blue. With the jagged rooftops and holes in the brickwork covered by a perfect snowy blanket, one could almost imagine the Nightingale as it once was, before all the bombs.
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 24
