‘That’s because she’s too nice and kind-hearted for her own good!’ Dulcie said. ‘You know what she’s like, she always puts other people before herself.’ And we’ve all let her, she added silently. Especially me. ‘She’s never thought of herself as special, or expected anyone to love her. But she deserves to be loved. And it’s about time someone did.’
She looked up at him. He was so handsome, she thought. They would have made a perfect couple, if only …
If only they weren’t both in love with other people.
She released him. ‘Well? What are you waiting for? Go and find Grace and tell her how you feel. But I’m warning you, she might take some convincing.’
‘Thank you.’ Robert smiled down at her, such a heartbreaking smile that Dulcie began to feel herself weaken.
‘Just promise me you won’t hurt her,’ she muttered. ‘Grace Duffield has a good heart, and it doesn’t deserve to be broken.’
‘I won’t,’ he promised. He started to walk away, then turned back. ‘But what about you? It’s hardly right to leave you standing on your own in the middle of the dance floor.’
Dulcie looked around her. She had completely forgotten where she was until she saw Miriam smirking at her.
She thought of the medal, nestling in her bag.
‘I’ll just have to be brave, won’t I?’ she said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
‘He’s gone, Nurse. There’s nothing more you can do for him.’
Florence Parker looked down at Grace Duffield, sitting at the side of Albie Sallis’ bed. It had been half an hour since Dr Carlyle issued the death certificate but still Grace sat there, holding on to his lifeless hand.
‘I can’t believe it, Sister,’ she kept saying. ‘I keep thinking he’s going to wake up any minute and smile and everything will be all right.’
The poor girl looked dazed, as well she might. No one had expected someone as full of life as Corporal Sallis to die. But as Kate Carlyle said, the shard of shrapnel was like a ticking time bomb lodged in his brain.
‘I know, Nurse.’ Miss Parker looked at Grace with sympathy. She had been sitting at Albie’s bedside for most of the afternoon, talking to him in a gentle whisper as he drifted in and out of consciousness. She’d refused to leave his side.
‘He needs me here, Sister,’ was all she would say whenever Miss Parker suggested she should talk a break.
Now, as she watched the girl weeping silently, Florence Parker knew she should take a firm hand with her. After all, it wasn’t the first time Grace Duffield had witnessed the death of a patient. All nurses accepted it as part of their job.
But somehow she could not bring herself to chastise her. Grace was generally a sensible girl – a little clumsy at times, but not usually given to silliness or sentimental outbursts like some of the other nurses. But she had developed a particular fondness for Corporal Sallis.
They all had, in their own way. Miss Parker had liked him a great deal, even though he could be a handful at times. She would miss his jokes, and his laughter. It wasn’t a sound they often heard among the traumatised men on Wilson ward.
She looked back at Grace who was pale with exhaustion.
‘Come along, Nurse.’ She forced herself to sound brisk. ‘Let’s leave him now, shall we?’
‘What about last offices, Sister?’
Miss Parker shook her head. ‘I’ll find someone else to do it.’
‘But there are no other nurses here …’
‘Then I’ll find someone else,’ Miss Parker cut her off. ‘Go to my sitting room, Nurse. I’ll get a VAD to bring you a cup of tea.’
‘But—’
Miss Parker sent her a severe look. ‘I hope you’re not going to argue with me, Nurse Duffield?’
‘No, Sister.’
Florence Parker watched her making her way unsteadily down the ward. She was an ungainly girl at the best of times, and her limbs were stiff from sitting for so long.
Ten minutes later, Miss Parker herself carried the tea tray into her sitting room. Grace was perched on the edge of the settee, arms wrapped around herself, perfectly still as if she was trying to stop herself from knocking something over.
She jumped to her feet when she saw Miss Parker, ran to take the tray from her and promptly upset a small vase of flowers.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Florence kept saying as Grace fell to her knees, desperately patting the rug with her apron to try and soak up the spilt water. ‘For goodness’ sake, girl, stop fussing! It’s only water, it will soon dry. Come and sit down.’
She set the tray on the low table between them and took her seat in the armchair opposite Grace.
‘I’ll pour, shall I?’ she offered. The last thing she needed was a pot of hot tea spilled in her lap.
‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ Grace said, as she took the cup from her. ‘I know I shouldn’t have made such a fuss. It was just so sudden.’
‘We knew it could happen at any time, Nurse.’
‘Yes, but he seemed so well.’ She looked up. ‘Do you think it had anything to do with Private Gordon leaving?’
The same thought had occurred to Florence, too, but she kept her expression bland. ‘In what way, Nurse?’
‘I’m not sure – it was just something he said to me, the day Gordon left. About not having a purpose anymore.’ She chewed her lip. ‘I wonder if he felt he had outlived his usefulness once he didn’t have to take care of his friend.’
Miss Parker considered the question. ‘I think it may more likely be the other way around, Nurse,’ she said at last. ‘It’s possible that Corporal Sallis only stayed alive because of Private Gordon. He was in a great deal of pain, although he didn’t like to show it. Perhaps he felt, with Gordon gone, he could finally be at rest?’
Grace was silent for a moment, and Florence could see her taking this in.
‘I hope so,’ she said finally. ‘He was very brave, wasn’t he, Sister?’
‘Yes, he was.’ Miss Parker took off her spectacles and wiped them on her apron. Goodness, she must be going soft in her old age, she thought. She had no idea what the other ward sisters would make of her, shedding a tear over a patient. Let alone allowing a humble nurse to take tea in her private sitting room.
But then, Florence Parker had always prided herself on being different from the others. She liked to think she was more modern and forward-thinking in her ways.
And besides, she had a soft spot for Grace Duffield. She was one of Miss Parker’s best nurses, and yet she was so often overlooked by everyone.
She left Grace sipping her tea and went outside to supervise the laying out of Corporal Sallis. She was glad she had not allowed Grace to perform last offices; no matter how brave and committed she was, it would have been a task too far for her.
As she emerged from behind the curtains, Dr Logan was waiting for her. He looked towards the curtains, then back at her.
‘Is he—?’
Miss Parker shook her head.
He swallowed hard. ‘When?’
‘Just over an hour ago.’
‘Do you want me to do anything?’
‘There’s no need, Doctor. Dr Carlyle has already issued the death certificate.’
He was silent for a moment. Then he seemed to remember something.
‘Where’s Grace – I mean Nurse Duffield?’
Miss Parker decided to ignore this slip. ‘Nurse Duffield is in my sitting room. I’m afraid Corporal Sallis’ death has hit her rather hard.’
‘I can imagine.’ Dr Logan looked towards her sitting-room door, then back at Miss Parker. ‘Perhaps I could go and see her?’ he ventured.
She saw the wariness in his eyes. He was waiting for her to say no, to bridle at the impropriety of his suggestion. It was a strict rule of the hospital that nurses were not allowed to be alone with men, even doctors.
Of course, it was always being broken. The ward sisters were forever finding staff nurses and probationers closeted in kitchens and sluices an
d linen cupboards with young doctors and medical students.
But for a ward sister to condone such a thing – well, that was an entirely different matter.
‘I think that would be a very good idea, Doctor,’ said Sister Parker.
The younger nurses always thought ward sisters were made of stone. Or iron, at any rate. Most of them would never have believed that their superiors were young too, once. They had flirted with doctors, crept back to the nurses’ home with their shoes in their hand after lights out, and even fallen in love a few times.
Of course, most of the ward sisters had forgotten their own ill-spent youth, but not Florence Parker. Even though her salad days were long gone, she still enjoyed watching romances blossom on the ward – so long as the nurses didn’t allow it to interfere with their work, of course.
And she had watched the tentative romance between Grace Duffield and Dr Robert Logan with particular interest. She had willed them both on from the sidelines as their friendship slowly developed, and silently cursed when Dulcie Moore decided to interfere.
There had come a point when she had begun to despair that they would ever find their way to each other. Dr Logan was far too shy for his own good, and as for Grace – well, she wouldn’t have known a man was interested in her if he’d carried a banner.
But now, seeing the keen look on Dr Logan’s face as he headed for her sitting room, Florence Parker began to hope that love might at last have found a way.
Then perhaps the doctor would stop behaving like a lovesick puppy, and they could all get on with their work.
She turned away with a smile. She was definitely going soft in her old age.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
‘Don’t you want to go outside, Sergeant Trevelyan?’
Sam looked up at the nurse hovering beside his chair. She never seemed to be far from his side.
Her name was Nurse Bright, and it really suited her. She was always irritatingly perky and full of good ideas about how he could fill his days. Even her voice grated on him.
‘Some of the men are organising a cricket match on the front lawn. Perhaps you’d like to join them.’ She beamed, showing off a mouth full of over-large teeth.
Sam pointed to the wound in his side. It was healing well, but the muscles were still weak. ‘I reckon my days as a spin bowler are probably over.’
‘I didn’t mean join in, silly!’ Nurse Bright brayed with laughter. ‘But you could watch?’
Sam looked at her. He knew she was doing her best, but she was far too sweet for him. He missed having someone he could spar with, someone who could give as good as they got.
‘Perhaps you might like to do something else then?’ Nurse Bright suggested. ‘The singing group are practising in the dining room?’
‘That’s the singing group, is it? I thought it was a bunch of tom cats fighting over the bins.’
Nurse Bright’s smile hardened. ‘Well, what would you like to do?’ she asked.
‘I’d like to sit here in peace, if you don’t mind.’
‘But you can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘You need to get better. You need to be rehabilitated.’ There was a desperate look in Nurse Bright’s eyes.
‘I’m sure I’ll get better faster if you just let me alone.’
‘But—’
Then a voice said, ‘Take no notice of him, Nurse. He was just as grumpy when I was nursing him.’
Sam’s whole body went rigid at the sound of her voice. He did not dare turn round. He had pictured this moment so often, he was worried it might be his mind playing tricks on him.
But then he heard Nurse Bright reply, so he knew it couldn’t have been his imagination.
‘You nursed him?’
‘I looked after him when he first returned to England. Believe me, he was worse-tempered then than he is now.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ Nurse Bright muttered.
‘I am here, you know,’ Sam snapped. ‘I can hear what you’re saying.’
He kept his back to them, staring out of the French windows. But he could imagine them exchanging exasperated looks.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Nurse Bright said. ‘Perhaps you can cheer him up?’
‘I doubt it,’ Dulcie replied.
Sam heard Nurse’s Bright’s footsteps receding, but still he didn’t turn around. He watched the men in their cricket whites gathering on the lawn.
‘You took your time.’ His voice sounded gruff. ‘I thought you were never going to visit.’
‘If I had known I was going to receive such a rapturous welcome I would have come sooner.’
Sam turned slowly to look at Dulcie, savouring the moment. She was wearing that beautiful blue dress again. A fashionable hat was pulled low over her curls.
She looked nervous, he thought. He wondered if her heart was racing as fast as his.
‘How are you?’ she asked, sitting down in an armchair opposite him.
‘Oh, I’m leading a very exciting life. Between the endless exercises and resisting Nurse Bright’s efforts to bring me out of myself – it’s all go.’
Dulcie smiled. ‘It sounds as if you’re winning that particular battle.’
‘Don’t I always?’
He glanced down at her hands folded in her lap, trying to see if she was wearing a ring on her left hand. It was hard to tell through her lacy gloves.
‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘Very well, thank you.’ Then she paused and said, ‘I’ve moved back to Monaghan ward.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Various reasons. I’m happier where I am.’
She didn’t look very happy, Sam thought. He searched her face, looking for clues.
‘I was sorry I wasn’t there to see you off,’ Dulcie said.
Sam stiffened, remembering his disappointment. ‘I daresay you had better things to do.’
‘It wasn’t that.’
‘What was it, then?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
Oh, but it does, Sam thought. Suddenly her answer seemed to be the most important thing in the world to him.
They sat in silence for a while, both watching the cricket match.
‘Why did you leave me your medal?’ Dulcie asked.
So you wouldn’t forget me. Sam thought about saying the words, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Instead he shrugged and said, ‘I thought you might like it. You were always more impressed by it than I was.’
‘Was that the only reason?’ Her voice was quiet, almost disappointed.
Out on the front lawn, the players were tossing a coin to see who went in to bat first. Sam stared at them, tussling with his emotions, unable to say the words he knew she wanted to hear.
He was a fool. He was going to lose her. He had waited all this time and now he was going to let her slip through his fingers, all because of his stupid pride …
‘I wanted you to remember me,’ he managed finally.
‘I didn’t need a medal for that.’
He saw the wry smile on her face and his heart lifted. But still he couldn’t allow himself to hope. Not until he knew for sure.
‘How is Dr Logan?’ he asked.
‘He’s well, I think.’ Dulcie’s smile faltered slightly. ‘Engaged.’
Sam took a deep, steadying breath. So that was why she had come.
‘Anyone I know?’
‘Nurse Duffield, would you believe?’ Dulcie’s smile was fixed.
He could believe it. He had always thought Dr Logan had a soft spot for the delightful Nurse Duffield.
‘You must be very disappointed?’
‘Actually, I was the one who gave him a bit of a nudge in her direction.’
Sam stared at her. ‘You?’
Dulcie laughed. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. Am I really that selfish?’
‘Well—’
‘All right, perhaps I am. I probably wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t …’ She stopped talking.
She looked at him. ‘If I hadn’t fallen in love with someone else.’
The door opened and Nurse Bright appeared. Sam flashed her a look. If she approached them now with another of her suggestions, he would not be responsible for his actions.
Thankfully, she seemed to understand and left the room again, closing the door behind her.
He turned back to Dulcie. ‘Someone nice, I hope?’ he said.
‘No,’ she said. ‘He isn’t very nice at all. He can actually be downright rude at times.’
‘What an unpleasant man.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I hope he showers you with gifts, at least?’
‘He bought me a box of violet creams once.’
‘Sounds very generous. So I’m guessing it won’t be long before you move in to your fancy London house?’
‘I don’t think so.’ She gave a martyred sigh. ‘The way things are going, I think I may well end up living in some muddy old farm in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Would you mind that?’
‘Not in the least.’ Their eyes met.
‘All the same,’ Sam said, ‘he doesn’t sound like much of a catch to me.’
‘You’re right.’ Dulcie smiled. ‘But you can’t help who you fall in love with, can you?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Dulcie had never seen a place like Grace’s home.
Ramshackle wasn’t even the word for it. Water dripped from cracked guttering, the kitchen range belched black smoke, and the whole place smelled of wet dogs and dirty nappies. It was the middle of winter, and a damp cold seeped through the thick stone walls.
And the noise … dogs barking, babies crying, and children everywhere. They rampaged around like an army of little hooligans, diving under furniture and jumping on beds.
Grace shared her room with at least five of them. But Dulcie had insisted they should move somewhere quieter after she had found one of the younger girls smearing the baby’s face with her best lipstick.
They ended up in Grace’s mother’s room. There was no fire lit, and Dulcie could see her breath curling in front of her face as she set about doing Grace’s hair.
Nightingale Wedding Bells Page 34
