That had shut her up. Sylvia blushed deeply and changed the subject.
‘Why did you have to say that?’ Anna scolded Dulcie in a whisper.
‘Oh, she deserves to be brought down a peg or two,’ Dulcie dismissed. ‘She’s so smug, constantly talking about her fiancé this and her fiancé that.’
‘She’s just happy,’ Anna said, but Dulcie wasn’t listening.
‘Honestly, I’ll be glad when this wretched wedding is over,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I can stand listening to her going on and on about it for another five months!’
‘Talking of weddings,’ Anna said, looking down at her hands, ‘Edward and I are getting married.’
‘Well, yes, I know that.’ Dulcie buttered another slice of toast. ‘You’ve been engaged for as long as I’ve known you.’
‘No, you don’t understand. We’re getting married on Monday.’
Dulcie stopped, the piece of toast halfway to her mouth. ‘Monday? You mean – next Monday? New Year’s Eve?’ Anna nodded. ‘But that’s a bit soon, isn’t it?’
‘Hardly. You said yourself we’ve been engaged a long time.’
‘But how will you organise it all in such a short time?’
‘Oh, there’s nothing to organise, really. I’ve booked the register office and managed to get a special licence. All we really need are the two of us.’
She looked quite happy about it, but Dulcie knew a poky little register office in a back street of Bethnal Green would never do for her.
She was still thinking about it when she reported for duty that morning. It was one of her favourite daydreams, picturing her perfect wedding day. When she married, she wanted a big wedding, the kind that might appear in the society pages of Tatler. There would be a host of glamorous guests, but of course none would look more beautiful than the bride, in her stunning white gown.
And Robert Logan would make the perfect bridegroom. An elegantly cut morning suit would really show off his sleek dark good looks. She could just imagine the photographs …
‘Nurse Moore! You’ve been cleaning that same patch of floor for the past twenty minutes!’
Sister’s harsh voice brought Dulcie sharply back to earth. The beneficial effects of the medicinal brandy had obviously worn off, judging by the scowl on Miss Sutton’s face.
‘When you’ve quite finished, kindly take your mop and bucket to the toilets. They’ll need to be clean before the visitors come.’
At midday, the visitors began to arrive. They lined up outside the double doors, necks craning, faces pressed against the glass, eager to catch a glimpse of their husbands, sons, fathers and brothers. Inside the ward, the men sat upright, smoothing down their hair and straightening their pyjamas. Most of the men who could get out of bed had changed into hospital uniforms, so as to look their best for their loved ones.
‘I do look all right, don’t I, Nurse?’ Private Anderson looked up at Dulcie as she knotted his tie for him. He was smiling, but the anxious bobbing of his Adam’s apple gave him away. ‘Don’t want to frighten my missus and kids.’
Dulcie looked down at the young soldier, the empty left sleeve of his uniform carefully arranged so as not to draw attention to his missing arm.
‘You look very handsome, Private,’ she assured him.
Private Anderson blushed. ‘I dunno about that,’ he mumbled. ‘Anyway, you’d better not let my Elsie hear you saying that, or she might get jealous!’
As the bell in the clock tower struck noon, Miss Sutton gave the nod for the VADs to open the doors, and the families poured in.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Eliza Parrish, the youngest of them, wiped away a tear as she watched them all hugging each other. ‘To see them all reunited again – well, it almost makes up for us not being with our own families, doesn’t it?’
‘Oh, do buck up, Parrish!’ Dulcie sent her a withering look. Eliza was barely eighteen, and far too sentimental. She regularly burst into tears while reading the soldiers’ letters from home. Sister despaired of her, and Dulcie just found her irritating.
Not all the soldiers had visitors. Some of their families lived too far away, like Sergeant McCray’s. Others, like Corporal Stanley’s, were too old and infirm themselves to travel. These were the ones who moved Dulcie, far more than the men involved in gushing reunions. It was so hard to watch them acting as if they didn’t mind, with forced laughter and fixed smiles. Some played cards or did a crossword, keeping their eyes averted from the visitors clustered around the other beds. But some of the younger ones couldn’t keep up the pretence and wept softly into their pillows.
Sergeant Trevelyan did neither. He sat bolt upright in bed as usual, staring around the ward with his usual look of grim determination, as if he was somehow challenging himself not to feel any pain.
‘You weren’t expecting a visitor, were you, Sergeant?’ Dulcie asked when she brought him a cup of tea.
‘No.’
‘I suppose it is rather a long way to travel up from Cornwall.’
‘It would be – if they knew where I was.’
Dulcie stared at him in surprise. ‘You haven’t told them?’
‘They know I’ve been injured, and that I’m in England.’
‘But why don’t you want them to know where you are?’
‘That’s my business.’
Dulcie had heard his sharp tone too often to be put off by it. She placed the teacup on his locker, beside his book. She had managed to coax him into borrowing a copy of David Copperfield from the little lending library that came to the hospital wards once a week. But from what she could see he hadn’t even opened it.
‘It might do you good to see them,’ she said.
Sam Trevelyan turned on her, his green eyes cold. ‘I really wish you would go and feel sorry for someone else, because I don’t need it.’
‘I was only saying—’
‘Don’t.’
She adjusted his bed tray, then placed the cup down in front of him. ‘I suppose you haven’t told them about your medal, either?’ Sam still did not reply. ‘I’m sure your sons would love to know their father is a hero—’
‘Don’t say that,’ Sam cut her short. ‘I’m no hero.’
‘How can you say that? You stayed out in No Man’s Land for over an hour, under rifle and bomb fire, bringing in the wounded. Everyone else ran, but you stayed put.’
‘There is no medal,’ Sam said.
‘But I saw it.’
‘I threw it away.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I didn’t want it.’ He said it in a low voice, not looking at her. ‘Anyway, why do I need a piece of metal to remind me when I’ve got this?’ He grimaced down at the dressing on his side.
Dulcie glanced along the ward to where Private Anderson was sitting up in bed, his wife at his side, his one arm curled around both his children. His face was suffused with happiness, all his earlier anxiety forgotten.
‘How did you know?’ Sam said suddenly.
‘What?’
‘About – what happened?’ He looked up at her. ‘I’ve never told anyone.’
Dulcie felt herself blushing. She wanted to lie, but his steady gaze seemed to draw the truth out of her. ‘I looked it up in Staff Nurse Hanley’s London Gazette,’ she confessed.
‘Now why would you do something like that?’ Sam said softly.
‘I was just curious.’
For a moment they looked at each other, then he said, ‘Don’t look now, but the man of your dreams has just walked in.’
Dulcie glanced over her shoulder. There, in the doorway, stood Dr Logan.
‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ Sam said. ‘Go and impress him.’
‘I really don’t know what you mean,’ Dulcie said huffily. But she was already hurrying down the ward, conscious of Sam’s cynical gaze on her every step of the way.
‘Can I help you, Dr Logan?’ Miss Sutton was not on the ward, so Dulcie managed to get to him first.
‘I’m lo
oking for Sister. Is she about?’ Dr Logan’s gaze skimmed past her, searching the crowded ward.
‘I’m afraid Sister always takes refuge in her sitting room during visiting time. Was there something I can help you with?’
‘Miss Sutton asked me to come and assess a patient. She thinks he might need to be moved to the neurasthenia ward.’ He looked around, frowning. ‘But I can see I’ve come at a difficult time. Tell her I’ll come back later.’
‘No!’ Dulcie caught Dr Logan’s startled look and realised she had spoken too loudly. ‘I mean, I know the patient Sister means. Corporal Kavanagh, bed ten.’ She was relieved that for once she had bothered to pay attention during Sister’s morning report. ‘I’ll take you to him, shall I?’
Dr Logan hesitated. ‘It might be best if I speak to Sister.’
‘I’m sure she would want you to see him as soon as possible,’ Dulcie said. ‘I know she’s rather worried about him. He’s very agitated.’
‘Is he?’ Dr Logan consulted his notes, his dark brows drawing together. ‘Sister didn’t mention that. Oh, well, in that case, I suppose I’d better take a look straight away.’
Corporal Kavanagh was fast asleep, as usual.
‘He doesn’t seem very agitated,’ Dr Logan remarked.
‘You wait until he wakes up. We have a terrible job trying to calm him down.’
It was a slight exaggeration. In fact, Corporal Kavanagh was as docile as a lamb. It was the number of hours he slept that concerned Sister, not his agitation. But Dulcie was prepared to say anything to keep Dr Logan on the ward.
She watched as he examined a rather dazed and sleepy Corporal Kavanagh, all the while trying desperately to think of something to say.
‘We don’t see you on Monaghan very often,’ she finally managed to blurt out.
‘No.’ Dr Logan paused to scribble some notes. ‘I don’t have much cause to visit these days. Besides, my work on Wilson keeps me busy.’
‘Not too busy to come to the Christmas show, I hope?’
She would never usually have been so forward. But she could tell Dr Logan had nearly finished his examination. Soon he would be gone, and her chance with it.
He blinked at her. ‘What Christmas show?’
‘You must have heard about the Christmas show? We put it on every year for the patients. They have such fun. I’m Marie Lloyd this year.’
‘Really? I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it.’
Dulcie’s stomach plummeted with disappointment. ‘You’re not coming?’
‘I’m not on call this evening. Are you sure this patient is agitated?’ he asked.
‘What? Oh, yes. Sometimes. Can’t you come anyway?’ Dulcie said.
‘I have other plans.’ He added his signature to the notes and placed them back at the foot on Corporal Kavanagh’s bed. ‘Please tell Sister I will come back and speak to her about Corporal Kavanagh this afternoon.’
He had turned and was starting to walk away. Dulcie stared after him, helplessly.
She heard a muffled snort to her left. She glanced around to see Sam Trevelyan watching her, almost with a smile.
Then a thought struck her.
‘Dr Logan?’ she called after him, following him down the ward.
He carried on walking, taking some notes from the pocket of his white coat as he did. ‘Yes?’
‘May I ask your advice?’
That stopped him in his tracks. ‘About what?’
Dulcie caught up with him. ‘I just wondered – do you think it benefits patients to get a visit from their families?’
Dr Logan considered the question. ‘Well, I suppose it depends on the individual case. Obviously the age of the patient will need to be taken into account, his family situation, his general state of health. But – yes, I suppose in general, patients do benefit greatly from such visits.’
Dulcie let her gaze flick back up the ward to where Sam Trevelyan was still watching her.
‘Thank you, Doctor.’ She smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I thought.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘Just think, Duffield. This time tomorrow I’ll be Mrs Edward Stanning!’
Grace could scarcely remember a time when she had seen her friend so happy. Anna whirled about the room, taking her belongings out of the chest of drawers and throwing them into the open suitcase on the bed. Her face was alight with excitement.
Grace smiled at her as she pinned her hair. ‘I’m so pleased for you, Beck. But I’ll really miss sharing a room with you.’
‘I know.’ Anna paused, a pile of clothes in her arms. ‘I’ll miss you and all the other girls, too. It’ll seem very odd, not waking up here every morning.’
‘I’m sure you won’t miss the Home Sister telling you when to get up and when to go to bed,’ Grace said. ‘Or queuing up for the bathroom on a freezing winter’s morning.’
‘I suppose not. But we’ve had some good times here, haven’t we?’ Anna looked out of the window. ‘I won’t miss shinning up and down that drainpipe in the dead of night, though. I used to worry every time I came home that you’d be fast asleep and wouldn’t hear me tapping on the window.’
‘Far from it,’ Grace said. ‘I used to lie awake at night, worrying you’d break your neck!’
Anna grinned. ‘You’ve been a good friend, Duffield.’
‘So have you.’ Grace shook her head. ‘Listen to us, getting all sentimental. It’s a good thing I’m on night duty tonight, or I’d be in tears by ten o’clock!’
‘And it’s not as if we won’t see each other again, is it?’ Anna said. ‘I’ll be back on duty in a couple of days, once our honeymoon’s over.’
‘I must say, I’m surprised that Matron agreed to let you stay on.’
‘I think she’s desperate to keep hold of as many trained nurses as she can.’
It had all worked out very well for her and Edward in the end. Not only had Matron agreed to Anna staying on at the hospital, but today the Medical Board had given him a full discharge.
Grace was surprised. She had seen men in a far worse state than Edward Stanning sent back to the Front. She had expected him to be assigned light duties, probably at a local depot, but instead he had been discharged entirely.
Anna, needless to say, had been delighted by the news. It was more than she had ever dared hope for, that her darling Edward could come home and run the bakery.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she had said to Grace. ‘I feel as if I’ve spent so many years being miserable, watching everyone being taken away from me, and now I’ve got Edward back. It feels like a dream come true.’
She was still smiling as she dumped the clothes into her suitcase and looked around.
‘There, I think that’s everything.’ She closed the lid of the case. ‘It seems rather full,’ she said ruefully.
‘Here, I’ll help you close it.’ Grace leaned her weight on the lid while Anna fastened the leather straps. After much pulling and straining, they finally managed to get it done up.
Grace watched as Anna hauled the suitcase off the bed. It landed with a thump on the polished wood floor. Seeing it there made the move seem more real.
She dragged her gaze away and looked at the watch dangling from her apron bib. ‘Is that the time? I’d better be off, or the night sister will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, at the wedding,’ Anna said.
‘I’ll be there.’ Grace seized her friend’s hands impulsively. ‘I really am so pleased for you,’ she said. ‘You deserve to be happy.’
Tears brimmed in Anna’s eyes. ‘Thank you.’
Then, as Grace left, Anna called after her, ‘How awful of me, I’ve been so full of my own plans, we haven’t even talked about your Christmas with your family.’
Grace smiled. ‘There’s really nothing to tell,’ she said.
It seemed as if the year was determined to go out with an icy bluster. It was a freezing, bitter night, and flurries of snow swirled and eddied in the ic
y wind. Grace pulled the hood of her thick cape as far as she could, but the cold still made the bones of her face ache. She picked her way carefully along the path from Walford House to the main hospital building in the dark, her feet slipping on the slushy cobbles. Cold wetness had seeped through the leather of her shoes by the time she reached the hospital building.
Grace stood inside the main doors for a moment, shaking the snow off her cape before making her way down the long corridor to Wilson ward.
There’s nothing to tell, she had said to Anna. But the truth was she didn’t want to talk about what had happened because she was afraid it would somehow make it more real.
Her father had insisted on Noah taking her back to the station in his cart that morning. He had been very solicitous of her, carefully arranging an old blanket around her shoulders to keep out the cold. Grace had held her breath and tried not to mind that it smelled of old, damp dog.
Noah was a lot more talkative on the way back to the station than he had been on the way to the farm. He pointed out the land he had harvested earlier that year, and told her about the yield he had had, and the new crops he was planning for the following year.
Grace had the distinct feeling he was trying to impress her, in his own way.
Finally, he said, ‘I think your mother’s spoken to you?’
‘Yes.’ Grace felt queasy, and not just because of the lurching of the wagon.
Noah sent her a sideways look. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘It was – a surprise.’
‘Ah. I suppose it might be, at that.’
He was silent for a while, then he said, ‘I’d make you a good husband. You’d want for nothing.’
Grace risked a glance at his craggy profile. ‘But we hardly know each other, Mr Wells.’
‘Noah.’ He gave a slight smile.
‘Noah.’ Even saying it felt wrong, like something sharp in her mouth.
‘I reckon we know each other well enough. And we’re both steady, sensible sorts, so we’d get along quite nicely, I think.’ He paused, then said, ‘You’d have a grand place to live. I’m thinking of doing up the farmhouse.’ He sent her another quick look. ‘You’d have a say, mind. I’d put you in charge of all the alterations, so you could get it just how you wanted it. Even indoor plumbing, if that’s what you’d like.’
Nightingale Wedding Bells Page 15
