Nightingale Wedding Bells

by Donna Douglas

  ‘What would Edward be doing up there?’

  ‘That’s where his new pals hang out. So Charlie says, anyway. He often leaves the boy in the kitchen while he goes off there to play cards and – whatever else.’

  So that was why he’d given Charlie a key. ‘How long has this been going on?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I really couldn’t say.’ Mrs Church pursed her lips. ‘I’ve been told to mind my own business, and that’s what I’m doing.’

  Anna could tell from Mrs Church’s gloating expression that she was dying to say more. Edward was right, she really didn’t have a good word to say about him.

  ‘I daresay Edward misses his friends now he’s out of the army,’ she said. ‘It will do him good to get out and about.’

  ‘Even when he’s supposed to be working?’ Mrs Church’s brows lifted.

  ‘It’s up to him, isn’t it? Edward knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right. Although I can’t say I’d like the idea of my husband associating with the likes of Billy Willis,’ she added.

  Anna looked at Mrs Church’s smug face. She was enjoying this, she thought. She was the kind of woman who loved having secrets and knowing all the gossip. Anna didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of asking, but in the end she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Who’s Billy Willis, when he’s at home?’

  ‘Only the biggest villain in Bethnal Green. Honestly, I’m surprised you ain’t heard of him. Billy and his gang run the betting at all the racecourses between here and Doncaster. And a lot of other things besides,’ she said darkly. ‘Believe me, your husband’s doing himself no favours getting mixed up with the likes of them. I’d be worried, if I were you, Miss Anna.’

  Of course she was worried. But she wasn’t about to show Mrs Church that.

  ‘I can’t choose my husband’s friends for him, can I?’ she said.

  ‘So you don’t mind that they’re leading him astray?’

  Anna frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs C. What do you mean?’

  They both swung round. Edward stood in the doorway to the shop. He looked tired and dishevelled in his rumpled clothes, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.

  ‘Edward!’ Anna ran to him, relief surging through her. ‘Oh, thank God. I’ve been so worried.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. It sounds like Mrs C’s been filling your head with all sorts of stories.’ He put his arm around her and planted a kiss on her forehead. He smelled of stale beer and cigarettes. ‘I bet you thought I’d been locked up in Pentonville, didn’t you?’

  ‘I’m just glad you’re home safe.’ Anna clung to him. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I was playing cards with my mates until late. I’d had a few drinks and I couldn’t get a cab home for love nor money, so I decided to kip on the floor. I would have walked but the weather was so filthy, I didn’t want to catch my death.’ He held her closer. ‘I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to worry you. I meant to be here when you got home but it took me ages to walk back from Hackney. Did Charlie manage to open up the kitchen all right without me?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Anna hugged him close, too overcome with relief to think about anything else.

  ‘He’s a good boy.’ He released Anna and turned to Mrs Church. ‘Sorry, Mrs C, I reckon I interrupted you when I walked in. What was it you were saying?’

  Anna looked from one to the other. Mrs Church’s face was a taut mask.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said.

  ‘No, come on. I’d like to hear it. Something about me being led astray, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I said, it’ll keep,’ Mrs Church bit out.

  Edward smiled slowly. ‘I’m sure it will,’ he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Anna went up to bed but, exhausted though she was, could not sleep. Mrs Church had planted all kinds of ideas in her head that had left her feeling deeply unsettled.

  Despite what she had said to Mrs Church, she didn’t like the idea of Edward going off the way he had. She certainly couldn’t imagine her father abandoning his work at the bakery to go off and play cards. He would never leave his apprentice to open up the shop, either. Friedrich Beck made sure he was the first to arrive every morning and the last to leave at night.

  And that was when Edward had been his apprentice. If he’d had someone like Charlie Atkins working for him, Papa would never have trusted him to wash up a baking tray on his own, let alone run the kitchen. And he certainly wouldn’t have given him a key to the place. It made Anna uneasy, knowing that Charlie could come and go as he pleased. How often did he go upstairs and poke around in their belongings while she and Edward were both out?

  And as for this business with Edward’s friends … Even though Anna had tried to pretend she wasn’t concerned, her chest fluttered with anxiety whenever she thought about them.

  She trusted Edward, of course. But she couldn’t forget how he had almost been led into a life of crime before. He’d told her himself how he had got involved with the Franklin brothers when he was a boy, and had almost gone to jail for robbery.

  He was a lot younger then. But Anna was still uneasy about the idea of him falling in with another bad crowd.

  She wished she could have written to Tom and asked his advice. Tom was a Franklin himself, had grown up in that dark underworld and understood it better than she ever could. He would have been able to help her, to put her mind at ease about this Billy Willis character and his friends.

  But she hadn’t written to Tom since the day after her wedding, when she had sent her final letter to him. And she had heard nothing from him since, either. She knew she had done the right thing, but she still missed him.

  At midday Anna went downstairs to find Edward shutting up the shop for dinner.

  ‘Where’s Mrs Church?’ she asked.

  ‘She had some errands to do, so I sent her off early.’ Edward held out his arms to her. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart? You still look tired.’

  ‘So do you.’ Anna hugged him, pressing her face into his chest.

  Edward’s laughter rumbled against her cheek. ‘That’s my own fault for staying out all night playing cards with the boys!’ He held her closer. ‘You’re not upset about that, are you, love?’

  For a moment she was tempted to speak up. ‘No, of course not,’ she said instead. ‘You’re a grown man, you can do as you like.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ He held her tighter, his arms wrapped around her. ‘They’re just ordinary men, you know,’ he said. ‘Whatever Mrs Church likes to say about it.’

  ‘She made it sound like you’d spent the night in a den of thieves!’ Anna searched Edward’s face as she said it, but he only laughed.

  ‘Did she now? I daresay she thought we were planning our next bank robbery.’

  ‘Don’t give her ideas!’ Anna hesitated a moment, then said, ‘She mentioned someone called Billy Willis?’ Edward’s expression was blank. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘I’ve heard of him, of course. And I know people who know him. But I can’t say I’ve ever met the man personally. Not sure I’d want to, either.’

  ‘But Mrs Church said—’

  ‘Mrs Church would say anything to make me look bad,’ Edward cut her off. ‘I can’t do a thing right as far as that old cow’s concerned.’

  ‘Edward!’

  ‘I’m sorry, but she’s driving me barmy. She’s always watching me, keeping tabs, waiting to tell you what I’ve been doing.’

  ‘I don’t take any notice of her, you know that.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t stop her, does it?’

  Anna sighed. ‘I’ll speak to her again.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d do more than that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Edward’s expression softened. ‘If anyone should be in that shop, it’s you. You’re Friedrich Beck’s daughter, you’d be able to bring the customers in far better than Mrs Church can. Who wants to see her
sour face behind the counter? And as for that sharp tongue of hers …’ He looked down at Anna. ‘It’s what your father wanted, isn’t it? You and me working together?’

  Anna blinked up at him, realisation dawning. ‘You want me to give up nursing?’

  ‘Why not? It was never what you wanted, was it? You only signed up because of the war. You trained as a baker, Anna. It was always your dream, remember?’

  He was right, she thought. It was her dream. And it was what Papa would have wanted, too.

  She had a misty vision of herself and Edward working alongside each other, laughing together in the bakery kitchen, just like her own mother and father had done. They might even be able to get rid of Charlie. His presence disturbed her more than she liked to admit.

  ‘And just think, I won’t be able to get into trouble with my new friends if you’re there to keep me on the straight and narrow!’ he said.

  Anna shoved him playfully in the ribs. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He caught her hands in his, thumbs gently tracing circles on the skin. ‘So what do you say? You and me, working together, just like old times?’

  It sounded like heaven. But still something niggled at her.

  ‘What about Mrs Church?’

  Edward’s blue eyes grew cold. ‘What about her?’

  ‘We can’t get rid of her. She’s been here for years. Besides, she’s a widow, she needs the money.’

  ‘We need the money!’ Edward reminded her. ‘Think what we can do if we save on her wages. We might be able to bring down our prices, or even start offering customers tick again.’ He let her hands drop. ‘Of course, if you don’t think it’s a good idea …’

  ‘No! No, it’s a very good idea,’ Anna assured him hastily. ‘I’m just a bit worried about telling her, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ Edward said. ‘Believe me, it would be a pleasure to give the old bag her marching orders!’

  ‘No,’ Anna said. ‘I should be the one to do it. Promise me you’ll leave it to me – please?’

  ‘If I must,’ Edward sighed. Then he smiled and grabbed her hands again. ‘Just think, in a couple of weeks we’ll be working together like we used to. How does that sound?’

  For a moment Anna felt a pang, thinking of the Nightingale Hospital and all the good times she’d had there. She had made so many friends, it would be sad to leave them all behind.

  Then she remembered the previous night, and all those buckets and bowls and bedpans. She certainly wouldn’t miss nights like that.

  She grinned at Edward. ‘I think it sounds like heaven,’ she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ‘What are you supposed to be doing, Nurse Moore?’

  Dulcie’s heart sank at the sound of Sister’s voice. She turned round, stifling a sigh, to see Miss Parker bearing down on her.

  ‘I was going to take blood from the patient in bed fourteen, Sister.’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that, Nurse?’

  Dulcie looked down at the kidney dish in her hands, filled with the hypodermic apparatus and covered with a cloth. ‘The usual way, Sister.’

  Miss Parker gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘How long have you been working on this ward, Moore?’

  Too long, Dulcie thought. ‘A month, Sister.’

  ‘Then you should know by now that particular patient doesn’t like needles.’

  ‘Then what am I supposed to do, Sister?’

  Miss Parker sighed. ‘Ask Duffield, she’ll tell you.’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’

  Dulcie walked away, quietly furious.

  Ask Nurse Duffield. Nurse Duffield will show you. That was all she seemed to hear. She was getting sick and tired of it.

  She watched Grace at the other end of the ward, laughing with a patient. That same man had glared at Dulcie in hostile silence this morning when she had tried to make conversation with him.

  It was as if Grace had found her natural home, Dulcie thought. On Monaghan, she had always been so awkward and clumsy. And yet in the four weeks Dulcie had been on Wilson, she had not seen Grace drop or spill a single thing. She moved around the ward with assurance, perfectly content and untroubled by all the shrieking and moaning going on around her.

  And of course she knew exactly what to do about the troublesome patient in bed fourteen.

  ‘Oh, you mean Captain Dodds? Yes, he can be rather difficult,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But it isn’t the needle he dislikes, it’s the sight of blood. Just distract him and you should be fine.’

  ‘And how am I supposed to do that?’

  ‘I find a crossword usually works. Or else talk to him. Get him on the subject of motor cars. They’re a bit of a passion of his. You could probably saw his leg off if he’s talking about Aston Martins or Rolls-Royces.’

  Dulcie stared at her. ‘How do you remember so much about them all?’

  ‘I take an interest.’ Grace shrugged. ‘Once you find out what kind of person they are and the way they think, it’s really quite easy to work out what they need.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure you’ll get used to all their funny little ways in time. Take the new patient, Corporal Gates, for instance …’

  But Dulcie wasn’t listening. She was distracted by the sight of Sam Trevelyan, visible through the French doors. He was shuffling across the terrace, leaning on Miriam Trott’s arm.

  I’ll bet he hates it, Dulcie thought. Sam Trevelyan was not the type of man to lean on anyone.

  She watched them for a moment. Sam looked so tall and powerful beside Miriam’s diminutive figure. She could see Miriam’s mouth moving ten to the dozen as usual and wondered what she was talking to him about. Something tedious, no doubt. If she knew Miriam Trott, she was probably explaining the plot of the latest romance novel she had read.

  They reached the end of the terrace and turned around. As they started back, Miriam caught sight of Dulcie watching them and gave her a mocking little wave. She must have said something to Sam, because he looked up too. Their eyes met and he gave her such a long-suffering look, Dulcie couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘You miss them, don’t you?’ Grace said behind her.

  Dulcie turned around sharply. ‘What?’

  ‘The men on Monaghan? I think you enjoyed working there more than you do here.’

  Dulcie turned back towards the window, but Sam Trevelyan had disappeared from view.

  ‘I – understood it better,’ she admitted slowly. ‘I know where I am with bad chests and trench feet and missing limbs. But these men – they scare me.’ She looked around her. She would rather dress gaping wounds all day than have to look into those lifeless, glassy-eyed faces. At least the men on Monaghan were predictable; the shell shock patients could be laughing one minute, and screaming in terror the next.

  ‘You’ll get used to them,’ Grace said kindly.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to.’

  ‘Not even for him?’ Grace nodded up the ward to where Dr Logan was approaching them.

  Dulcie immediately straightened her cap and put on her best and most winning smile, but Robert Logan didn’t even look at her as he addressed himself to Grace.

  ‘How does Private Tennant seem to you this morning, Nurse?’

  ‘Much better, Doctor.’

  ‘Any hallucinations?’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Dr Logan pushed his spectacles higher on his nose and looked thoughtful. ‘Let me know if there’s anything you’re concerned about, won’t you?’

  ‘I will, Doctor.’

  Dr Logan gave Dulcie a brief nod and walked off.

  ‘Good morning to you, too,’ she muttered. ‘Did you see that?’ she said to Grace. ‘He barely looked at me. Honestly, I don’t know why he bothered to ask for me ’specially if all he’s going to do is ignore me!’

  ‘I expect he has a lot on his mind,’ Grace said mildly. ‘He has to prepare reports for the Medical Board next month. That always puts him in a bad mood.’


  Dulcie knew all about the Medical Board. Every couple of months, the doctors had to submit reports on the men’s progress so they could be put before the board. They would then decide who could be passed fit.

  ‘It’s always difficult on this ward because the men have no physical symptoms,’ Grace explained. ‘It’s easy for the board to decide whether someone with a missing foot or a gunshot wound should be sent back to the Front. But if it’s their mind that’s been injured …’ She looked down the ward to where Dr Logan was talking to Albie Sallis. ‘A lot of the Medical Board still won’t accept neurasthenia as a diagnosis. Dr Logan and Dr Carlyle have an awful job stopping them from being sent back to fight.’

  ‘Have you heard about Anna Beck?’ Dulcie changed the subject abruptly. She could see Grace was getting upset, and didn’t want to have to listen to her complaining about how dreadful it all was. If Grace had had her way, no one would ever be sent back to France.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s leaving.’

  Grace looked dismayed. ‘Why? What’s happened? Is it her husband?’

  ‘As far as I know, she’s decided to go back to the bakery.’ Dulcie frowned. ‘Why did you ask about her husband?’

  ‘No reason,’ Grace mumbled. But Dulcie could see the colour flooding her friend’s face.

  ‘Duffield—’

  ‘I’d better get on.’ Grace rushed off, tripping over her shoelaces in her rush to get away.

  Dulcie stared after her. What was that about? she wondered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  On Anna’s last day at the Nightingale, the other nurses surprised her with a tea party.

  ‘You didn’t think we’d let you go without a proper goodbye, did you?’ Dulcie had said, as they marched her down to the local café.

  All the girls from her original set were there – Dulcie, Grace, Miriam, even Sadie Sedgewick had taken time off to join them. She looked smart in her dark blue district nurse’s uniform, her leather Gladstone bag at her feet.

  The only one missing was Anna’s former room-mate Eleanor Copeland, who was still serving with the Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service in Mesopotamia.