She knew it was the wrong thing to say when she saw Edward’s face stiffen.
‘Yes, well, I don’t have to do everything the way your papa did, do I?’ He stood up. ‘I don’t mind what she calls me, so I don’t see why you should, either.’
At that moment Nellie appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘Oh, beg pardon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
But there was a glint in her green eyes as she said it. She was a big, brassy girl, her wide, smiling mouth painted scarlet even first thing in the morning. She was only twenty-one years old but already had two small children, so Eddie said.
Anna surveyed her critically, noticing her grubby blouse and the way her skirt strained over her rounded hips.
Edward checked his watch. ‘Is it that time already? I should be getting the next batch in the oven.’
‘You mean you haven’t done it?’ Nellie shook her head. ‘You’re slacking, Eddie Stanning.’
‘I can’t help it if I wanted to spend time with my wife, can I?’ Edward leaned over and planted a kiss on Anna’s cheek. ‘No, you finish your breakfast, sweetheart,’ he said, as she started to rise. ‘Nellie and I can open up the shop. It’s about time she started earning her living!’
‘Cheeky beggar!’ she laughed.
Anna felt a sudden stab of jealousy.
‘Nellie?’ she said. The girl turned around. ‘Make sure you fasten your hair up. You need to look tidy for the customers.’
Nellie glanced at Edward, twisting a red curl between her fingers. Then she gave an insolent little smile.
‘Yes, Mrs Stanning.’ She bobbed a curtsey and left the room, her hips swinging.
Edward went after her. Anna heard their murmuring voices as they descended the stairs, followed by a sudden burst of coarse laughter from Nellie.
She sat very still at the table, looking down at her hands.
They must have thought she was very stupid. Or perhaps they just didn’t care enough to try to hide their dirty little secret.
It hurt that she wasn’t enough for him. But at least it meant he left her alone in the bedroom, and Anna was grateful for that.
She finished her tea and went to the sink to wash up the breakfast dishes. Nellie and Edward’s voices drifted up to her from downstairs, laughing and joking together.
That was what really hurt, more than anything. It should have been her and Edward laughing together, working side by side, just as they had once. That had always been her dream and now it felt as if someone had stolen it.
If Edward had deliberately set out to hurt her, he couldn’t have picked a better way.
But it wasn’t his fault, she reminded herself. He was sick, he didn’t know what he was doing. If anything it was her fault for not being the wife he needed.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Dear George,
As I write this letter to you, I am sitting at the French windows looking out over the garden. How beautiful it all looks now it is starting to flower again. It has been such a long, dreadful winter I began to wonder if we would ever see spring. But now the cherry trees are heavy with blossom, and even the roses are starting to bloom …
Dulcie looked up at Sub Lieutenant Hawkins. He was slumped against the pillows, his eyes half closed. She didn’t blame him for his lethargy; his mother’s letters were enough to send anyone to sleep.
She let the letter drop into her lap and turned her attention to the commotion going on at the far end of the ward.
Private Gordon was staggering down the centre of the ward, clinging to his friend Albie Sallis’ arm, Albie was egging him on every step of the way, while Grace and Dr Logan stood at the end of the ward, beaming like proud parents.
Dulcie watched them, lanced with jealousy. She had tried her best to dismiss what Captain Jeffers had said to her about them. But she couldn’t ignore what her own eyes were telling her.
She could see it now, in the sideways glances Dr Logan kept giving Grace. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her for a second.
Grace, of course, seemed utterly oblivious. All her attention was fixed on Private Gordon’s progress down the ward. Her hands were clasped together, willing him on with every step.
Gordon finally reached Dulcie’s end of the ward.
‘Well, done, mate! You did it!’ Albie Sallis clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. ‘I told you, didn’t I? You can do anything you set your mind to.’
At the far end of the ward, Grace and Dr Logan had burst into spontaneous applause. As Dulcie watched, Grace turned around and grinned at Dr Logan. It was the widest, least flirtatious smile Dulcie had ever seen, yet Dr Logan gazed at her as if she were Pearl White or Mary Pickford.
It couldn’t be, she told herself. She had lost men before, but never, ever to a goose like Grace Duffield.
‘Nu – nu—’ George Hawkins made a strange grunting sound at the back of his throat. His hand pawed at hers on top of the covers, silently urging her to finish reading. Dulcie sighed resentfully and snatched up the letter.
‘Now where was I? Oh, yes, the blooming roses …’
Dulcie was still sulking when they all met in the nurses’ common room that night. Sylvia had handed out her wedding invitations, which of course prompted yet another tedious discussion about arrangements.
‘I’m going for my final dress fitting in a couple of weeks,’ she said coyly. ‘I wondered if anyone would like to come with me?’
She was looking straight at Dulcie, but she ignored it. Let the other girls twitter with excitement if they wanted. Dulcie refused to give her the satisfaction.
Thankfully, the conversation changed to another outing to the picture house Miriam Trott was planning for the men of Monaghan ward for the following evening. For some reason she was asking Grace to come this time, instead of Dulcie.
‘Don’t ask her.’ Jealousy made Dulcie waspish. ‘Last time she took the men on an outing she managed to lose one of them!’
It was supposed to be a joke, but no one laughed.
‘I can’t come anyway,’ Grace said. ‘I’ve already made an arrangement for tomorrow evening.’
A shocked silence fell. The other girls all turned to stare at her.
‘You have a date?’ Miriam spoke for all of them.
‘I wouldn’t call it a date, exactly.’ Grace blushed. ‘Dr Logan has invited me to a lecture he’s giving on shell shock.’
Another shocked silence, then Sylvia Saunders hooted with laughter. Mary Finnegan and Miriam Trott joined in, and soon they were all laughing. Except Dulcie.
Grace looked around, genuinely baffled. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Oh, Duffield!’ Sylvia shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘And they say romance is dead!’
‘There’s nothing romantic about it,’ Grace insisted, turning redder. ‘He had a spare ticket and thought I might be interested.’
The other girls laughed even more.
‘Oh, Duffers, what are we going to do with you?’ Hilda Wharton shook her head pityingly.
‘Don’t you know when a man is showing an interest in you?’ Mary Finnegan put in.
‘Showing an interest? But I don’t—’ Realisation dawned on Grace’s plain face. ‘But it’s nothing like that! Honestly, it isn’t.’
But the more she tried to insist, the more the other girls laughed.
‘You ought to be careful, Moore,’ Miriam Trott put in with a malicious little smile. ‘It looks as if you’re going to lose your Dr Logan.’
‘No, really. He’d never look twice at someone like me. He was probably just being polite …’
This last comment was aimed at Dulcie. She could sense the pleading look Grace was sending her, but refused to look her in the eye.
Dulcie couldn’t bring herself to speak to her room-mate for the rest of the evening. She made an excuse to go to bed early and was under the covers, pretending to be asleep, when Grace came to their room later.
Dulcie heard her blundering around in the dark, knocking things flying.
Finally, as she got into bed, Grace whispered, ‘Moore? Are you awake?’
Dulcie thought about not replying. But then she hissed back, ‘Not much chance of sleep with you acting like a bull in a china shop!’
‘Sorry.’ There was a pause, then Grace whispered, ‘I just wanted you to know – you’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You know – what the other girls were saying. About Dr Logan and me? I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it when he offered me that ticket. It was just a kind gesture, that’s all.’
Dulcie burned with fury. She didn’t need pity from the likes of Grace Duffield!
‘I know there’s nothing to it,’ she snapped back. ‘How could there be, when you’re engaged to someone else?’
Grace fell silent, and Dulcie knew her barb had hit home.
She threw off her covers and sat up, staring at Grace in the darkness. She could make out her tall, gawky shape sitting on the edge of her bed, her head hanging low.
‘I just wonder that you decided to accept the invitation, that’s all,’ she said.
Grace’s head lifted. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean it’s hardly right for a girl to be seen around town with another man when she’s supposed to be marrying someone else.’
‘But it’s nothing like that. I told you—’
‘I know what you said. But I’m not sure what your fiancé would think about it.’
Grace was silent for a moment. Dulcie could almost picture her furiously blushing face in the darkness.
‘So you think – I shouldn’t go to the lecture?’ she said slowly.
‘That’s up to you.’ Dulcie shrugged. ‘But if it was me, I don’t think I’d care to get myself a reputation.’
Another silence. Then Grace said, ‘You’re right. It – it wouldn’t be fair to Noah.’ Her voice was flat when she said his name, Dulcie noticed. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘For giving me good advice. Honestly, I’m such a fool, I don’t know what I’d do without you helping me.’
Now it was Dulcie’s turn to blush.
‘That’s what friends are for,’ she said.
‘Look at him go! He’ll be tripping the light fantastic next.’
‘Y-you’re p-putting me off,’ Private Gordon grumbled. He was hanging on to Grace’s arm, his fingers biting into her flesh through the thick cotton. Close to, she could see the beads of sweat standing out on his brow at the sheer effort of putting one foot in front of the other.
‘I mean it, mate. I can see you now, doing the foxtrot round the dance hall, all the ladies lining up …’
‘Shhh –’ Gordon turned around, lost his footing and stumbled, taking Grace with him. They fell in a tangle of limbs on the floor.
‘Now see what you’ve done!’ Gordon shouted, but Albie only laughed.
‘He did that on purpose, Nurse, just to get you in his arms!’ Albie stepped forward. ‘Come on, mate, let’s get you back on your feet.’
He hauled Gordon upright. Dr Logan put out his hand to help Grace but she scrambled to her feet before he could touch her.
‘I beg your pardon, Nurse,’ Gordon mumbled, glaring at Albie.
‘No harm done, Private Gordon.’ Grace brushed down her apron. ‘It was probably my fault anyway. I never look where I’m putting my feet.’
‘I think that’s enough exercise for one day.’ Dr Logan made a note on Private Gordon’s chart and hung it back on the hook at the foot of his bed. ‘Get some rest, man. You’ve earned it.’
‘I could’ve gone a bit further if you hadn’t put me off!’ Gordon muttered to Albie as Grace helped him back into bed and pulled the covers over him.
Albie shook his head. ‘I saw you wrestling on the floor with poor Nurse Duffield. Any further and it wouldn’t have been decent!’
Grace was aware of Dr Logan watching her as she finished making Private Gordon comfortable. Usually she wouldn’t even have noticed, but since hearing what the other girls had to say, she had started to feel very aware of him.
When she walked away, he fell into step beside her.
‘I’m sorry you couldn’t come to the lecture last night,’ he said.
Grace was surprised. ‘I didn’t think you’d notice if I wasn’t there?’
‘Of course I noticed.’
There was something about the way he looked at her that made the breath catch in her throat. No man had ever looked at her like that.
‘Talking of tripping the light fantastic,’ Dr Logan changed the subject, ‘are you going to this wedding?’
Grace nodded. ‘Are you?’
‘I’m the best man.’
‘I didn’t realise Roger – I mean, Dr Wallace – was such a friend of yours?’
Dr Logan looked rueful. ‘To be honest, I scarcely know the chap. But I get the impression that most of his friends have been called up, so I was the only one available. The last man standing, as it were. It’s a bit awkward, really. I haven’t been very sociable since I came to the Nightingale, so I don’t think I’ll know anyone at this wedding.’
‘You know me,’ Grace said.
Dr Logan swung round to face her. ‘Would you go with me?’ he asked.
‘I—’
‘It would make such a difference if I had someone I knew by my side. Someone I felt comfortable with.’
‘I can’t,’ Grace blurted out. ‘I’m engaged.’
Dr Logan’s features froze. ‘You’re – engaged?’ he repeated slowly.
‘Yes. So, you see, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to go with you?’
‘No. No, I see that.’ He looked lost. ‘I – I’m sorry, Nurse Duffield. I didn’t mean to offend you. I would never have suggested it if I—’ His voice trailed off. His face was suffused with colour.
‘Why don’t you ask Dulcie?’ Grace said.
‘Dulcie – oh, you mean Nurse Moore?’
‘I’m sure she would love to go with you,’ Grace said encouragingly.
‘Right. Yes.’ He went on staring at her. Behind his spectacles his blue eyes were clouded with confusion. ‘Engaged, you say?’
Grace gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Is it that hard to believe, Doctor?’
‘No!’ His colour deepened. ‘Not at all. I just thought – but it doesn’t matter.’
She had done the right thing, Grace thought, as she watched him hurrying away from her down the ward. Thank God for Dulcie, setting her straight before she made an utter fool of herself.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
‘Any headaches?’ the doctor said.
‘Sometimes.’
‘Lethargy? Depression?’
‘Yes.’
‘Insomnia?’
Anna looked back at him across the desk as he scribbled his notes. Only if you count the hours I’ve lain awake waiting for my husband to come home.
‘Yes,’ she said.
She shouldn’t be here, she thought. She had only come because Edward had said she must.
‘You’re not yourself,’ he’d said. He was in one of his solicitous moods. It always astonished Anna how he could swing from cruelty to kindness, almost as if he was deliberately trying to unbalance her. ‘You need to go to the doctor, get something for your nerves.’
He had been so loving, so concerned, that for a moment Anna had almost believed he truly cared.
‘And how is everything at home?’ the doctor asked.
‘What?’ Anna stared at him, startled. It was almost as if he had read her thoughts.
The doctor looked up at her, his eyes kindly behind his spectacles. ‘I know it can be very difficult, looking after a home and family under the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Would you say you are under particular strain?’
He looked so sympathetic, Anna thought about telling him the truth. That her husband was stealing m
oney from their business and gambling it all away with his friends night after night. She could even tell him about Nellie Madigan too, and all the whispered conversations and laughter she pretended not to hear.
But she still had a shred of pride left, so instead she pasted on a smile and said,
‘I wouldn’t say so, Doctor.’
Half an hour later, she was lining up at the pharmacist’s with a prescription for an iron tonic in her hand.
Seeing the doctor’s scrawl on the paper made her think of all the Latin instructions she had had to decipher at the Nightingale. Donec alv. sol. fuerit, Per. op. emet, Omn. hor – she had learned them all during her training. She knew from the words Noct. Maneq. on her prescription that the tonic was to be taken morning and night, even before the chemist told her.
Once she had been the one dispensing the medications. She had a sudden picture of a very different Anna, doing the drugs round, measuring out medicines and administering pills and injections, utterly sure of her own ability.
Now she could barely get dressed in the morning without doubting herself.
‘I hope it does the trick.’
Anna caught the look of pity on the chemist’s face as he handed her the brown paper bag. She knew what he was seeing. Not the proud, confident young woman she had once been, but the thin, washed-out wreck she had become. Anna could scarcely bear to look at herself in the mirror anymore. She could not face the drawn, pale face under lank brown hair, or those hollow, desperate eyes.
She trudged home slowly, taking the back streets, clinging to the brick walls like a shadow. There was a time when she would have greeted everyone and stopped to chat. Now she kept her head down and prayed that she didn’t see anyone she knew.
As she approached Chambord Street, the old familiar dread began to uncurl inside her. What would be waiting for her at home? Would Edward be in a good mood? Would he take her in his arms and tell her he loved her, or would he snarl at her?
Worst of all, he might be in one of his difficult moods. This was when Anna could sense a storm brewing, and had to pick her way carefully around him, knowing that any wrong word, or even an unguarded look, could cause him to erupt.
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