A Nightingale Christmas Promise

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Perhaps they might not want to be next?’

  ‘Don’t. It’s too horrible to think about.’ Anna shuddered and Edward reached for the towel to dry his hands before pulling her close again.

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ he murmured into her hair.

  ‘I hope so.’ She pulled away from him. ‘I’d better go. You will look after them all, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ he promised, his blue eyes solemn. ‘I’ll make sure no harm comes to them, I promise.’

  ‘And you’ll let me know – if anything else happens?’

  ‘It won’t,’ Edward assured her.

  Anna looked up into his handsome face. How she wished she could believe him, but the world had turned so upside down lately, she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

  The other girls were very subdued on the way back to the hospital. Their silence made Anna uneasy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘If I’d known there was so much trouble going on, I would never have asked you to come.’

  ‘We’re just sorry for your family,’ Miriam said. ‘Whoever put that brick through their window should be ashamed of themselves. Isn’t that right, Copeland?’

  Eleanor said nothing. She had barely spoken a word since they had arrived at the bakery, Anna realised.

  They returned to Porthleven House, where Miss Noonan was waiting to hurry them along.

  ‘Go upstairs to your rooms and collect your belongings,’ she instructed. ‘You must take them over to Lennox House and unpack before tea at four o’clock.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Well? Don’t just stand there, girls. Be quick about it!’

  ‘I won’t miss her, barking her orders all the time,’ Miriam muttered, as they hurried up the stairs.

  ‘Let’s hope the new Home Sister isn’t even worse!’ Anna whispered back.

  At first sight, Lennox House seemed a lot more welcoming than Porthleven. It looked more like a graceful country house, with its large bay windows and mellow sandstone walls. Gas lamps cast a welcoming glow from behind heavy lace curtains.

  Miss Westcombe the Home Sister was very different from Miss Noonan, too. She was surprisingly young, in her thirties, rounded and motherly-looking, with a soft, smiling face and gentle hazel eyes.

  ‘Welcome, girls,’ she greeted them with a smile. ‘You are not all here. Who is missing?’

  ‘Sedgewick and Duffield, Sister,’ Miriam said.

  A small frown creased the Home Sister’s soft features. ‘That’s rather a nuisance. Oh, well, never mind. I shall have to attend to them when they arrive.’ She consulted a list in her hand. ‘Now, I have your room allocations here. You will be sharing rooms, since we have a great many probationers at Lennox House. Trott, you will be sharing room three with Duffield when she arrives.’

  Miriam sighed. ‘Lord, I’ll have to lock all my valuables away in case she accidentally smashes them.’

  Alice smiled at Eleanor. Her profile was expressionless.

  ‘Sedgewick was supposed to be sharing a room with Moore, but I understand she will not be joining us, so Sedgewick will be on her own for the time being. Which leaves …’ Miss Westcombe’s gaze ran down the list. ‘Beck and Copeland in room four.’

  They went upstairs, dragging their suitcases. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t this heavy when I arrived,’ Anna said, leading the way along the landing. ‘Now what number did she say? Four, wasn’t it? Oh, here we are. Home sweet home!’

  She threw open the door to a large, airy room. Anna dumped her suitcase on the floor and looked around. ‘Well, at least it doesn’t smell of damp like Porthleven. And there’s no draught coming up through the floorboards. And there’s a nice view, too.’ She went over to the window. ‘Look, you can see over the front lawn, almost to the main building. Would you like the bed nearest the window, or over in the corner? I don’t mind, you can choose.’

  She turned round. Eleanor stood rigid in the doorway, her suitcase still in her hand.

  ‘Copeland? Are you all right?’

  Eleanor looked as if she might cry. ‘I can’t,’ she blurted out.

  Anna stared at her. ‘Can’t what?’

  ‘I can’t share a room with you.’

  ‘What are you talking about? We wanted to share, didn’t we? You said …’

  ‘That was before,’ Eleanor mumbled.

  ‘Before what?’

  ‘Before I knew who you were.’ Eleanor looked up suddenly, her eyes blazing. ‘Why didn’t you tell me your father was German?’ she cried.

  Anna sank down on the bed, dazed. ‘Is that what this is about?’

  ‘I would never have – if I’d known …’ Eleanor appealed to her. ‘You must see it makes things difficult?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I don’t understand what this has to do with us.’

  Eleanor looked down at her hands. ‘My father says the Germans are our enemies,’ she said quietly.

  ‘But I’m your friend,’ Anna said.

  ‘No!’ Eleanor stared at her. ‘I – I can’t be your friend,’ she said.

  ‘Eleanor—’

  ‘My father wouldn’t like it.’ She shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t be right, not with my brother in France, fighting for his country. I’d feel like – a traitor.’

  ‘A traitor?’ Anna repeated coldly.

  ‘I’ll speak to the Home Sister,’ Eleanor said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be able to change things round, find someone else to share with you.’

  ‘Eleanor!’ Anna called after her. But she had already gone, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Well, girls, it looks as if I might not be cut out for nursing after all!’

  Dulcie managed a bright smile, but Sadie could tell how miserable she was feeling under her brave face.

  They were in her room at Porthleven House, watching her pack before she caught her train back to Devon. Poor Dulcie was in such a daze, she barely seemed to know what she was doing. She kept taking things out of her drawer, folding them and putting them back in again.

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Sadie said. ‘You’ll be back. Matron said you could try again, didn’t she?’

  ‘If I’m lucky. She said if I apply again, I’ll be considered along with everyone else – “Although I do hope, Miss Moore, that if you are selected you will work a little harder next time”,’ she perfectly mimicked Matron’s haughty tone.

  ‘And what did you say to that?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I promised I would, of course,’ Dulcie said. ‘Believe me, I’ll be a bigger swot than Eleanor Copeland if they give me another chance!’

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it!’ Sadie grinned.

  ‘Copeland isn’t the biggest swot in the set now,’ Grace pointed out, her eyes glinting with mischief. Sadie felt herself blushing.

  ‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that.’ Dulcie paused in rolling up a stocking. ‘Honestly, Copeland’s face when she saw your name at the top of the list. It was priceless!’

  ‘It was a fluke,’ Sadie muttered.

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’ Dulcie threw the stocking at her so it bounced in her lap. ‘You’re very good, Sadie Sedgewick.’

  Sadie tossed back the balled-up stocking. ‘We’ll see how good I am after another two years’ studying. I expect I’ll be back at the bottom of the class by then.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Dulcie said. ‘What was it Miss Pascoe called you last week? A natural.’

  Sadie felt her blush deepening. ‘I don’t know about that,’ she mumbled.

  Dulcie went back to her packing, pushing the stocking into a corner of her suitcase. ‘Even if I do manage to get past Matron and come back, you lot will all be proper nurses long before me. I’ll be left behind!’

  ‘Not that far behind,’ Grace said. ‘And anyway, you’ll soon catch up.’

  ‘I don’t know …’ Dulcie stared down at the pile of silky petticoats in her hands as if she didn’t know quite what to do with them.

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ Sadie took the
m from her and put them in the suitcase. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you fetch everything from your cupboards and I’ll fold and pack things for you?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Dulcie smiled gratefully, tears shining in her brown eyes. The poor girl was in a dreadful state, Sadie thought. She was glad she and Grace had stayed behind to be with her. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ Dulcie said in a choked voice. ‘I keep thinking about having to go home and tell my parents I’ve failed …’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be all right about it,’ Grace said kindly.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Dulcie gazed out of the window, over the rooftops. ‘Just think,’ she sighed, ‘this time tomorrow I’ll be bringing the cows in!’ She looked forlorn at the prospect.

  They walked down the long drive towards the main gates, carrying the suitcase between them.

  ‘You’ll have to write to us and tell us all your news,’ Sadie said.

  ‘I will. Although I don’t suppose there’ll be much to tell, being stuck in the country.’

  Sadie grinned at her. ‘I told you, you’ll be back.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Dulcie smiled. ‘I just hope all the handsome young doctors haven’t been sent off to war by then!’ She clutched Sadie’s hands, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘Say goodbye to the others for me, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They said their final goodbyes at the Tube station, then Sadie and Grace trudged back to the hospital together.

  ‘It’s such a shame the others weren’t here to wish her well,’ Grace said.

  ‘They might have been, if it hadn’t been for Copeland.’ There was little love lost between Sadie and Eleanor Copeland. She found the other girl too bossy and overbearing. She was sure Eleanor looked down on her, too. For whatever reason, they tried to stay out of each other’s way.

  But she was surprised when Grace suddenly blurted out, ‘She would probably be a lot nicer if it wasn’t for her father.’

  Sadie turned to stare at her.

  ‘It’s all that John Bull nonsense he spouts in her ear,’ Grace went on. ‘He believes every word, and he makes sure she does, too.’

  She was right, Sadie thought. Eleanor was forever quoting her father’s opinions, which in turn he had taken from the John Bull, a rabble-rousing newspaper which called openly for a vendetta against every German in Britain. It constantly urged its readers to attack ‘The Hun’ wherever they found them.

  ‘I loathe Horatio Bottomley and his wretched newspaper,’ Grace muttered. ‘He’s a cruel, evil man, and all he wants to do is spread hatred.’

  Sadie glanced sideways at her. Grace Duffield was a quiet, even-tempered soul who rarely raised her voice to anyone. It was a shock to see her so angry now.

  ‘They should send him to the Front, see how much he likes war then,’ Grace went on. ‘It’s all very well him—’

  ‘Look out!’

  Sadie swung round as a runaway coal wagon came thundering out of nowhere, careening wildly from side to side across the road, shedding sacks of coal as it went. Without thinking, she grabbed Grace’s arm and managed to yank her back from under the horse’s flailing hooves. They both tumbled to the pavement, inches away from the cart’s wheels. Sadie looked up and caught a glimpse of the driver’s face, eyes bulging in terror, every sinew straining as he fought for control.

  The cart disappeared around the corner and Grace struggled to sit up.

  ‘What the—’ she started to say. But no sooner had she opened her mouth than there was a terrible, splintering crash, followed a second later by the sound of screaming.

  Before they knew what they were doing, they were on their feet and running towards the source of the commotion.

  Sadie rounded the corner first. For a moment she could only stare, trying to work out what she was seeing. The cart was upturned in the middle of the road, sacks of coal spilling out all around it. A few men had got hold of the horse and fought to calm it as it bucked and reared, ears flattened, eyes rolling. They ducked as its mighty hooves pawed the air, narrowly missing their heads.

  Yet more people were gathered around the rear of the wagon. As they drew closer, Sadie caught a glimpse of the driver on the pavement, blood pooling in a crimson halo around him. She could only see his top half; the rest of him was buried under the cart.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Grace whispered.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sadie said grimly.

  ‘Should we do something?’

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘I don’t know. We are supposed to be nurses, aren’t we?’

  ‘Hardly!’

  ‘All the same, we should do something.’

  Sadie swallowed hard. ‘Run to the hospital,’ she said to Grace. ‘Go and get help.’ Then she started to push her way through the gathering crowd.

  The driver was sprawled in the gutter, the lower half of his body under the cart. Two strong men were lifting the cart, while another had the injured drayman under the arms, trying to pull him free.

  ‘One, two, three … lift!’

  The cart was raised an inch, enough to shift the man slightly. As he moved, Sadie caught a glimpse of blood pumping from raw, mangled flesh. So much blood, soaking the sacks of coals, rivers of it running in the gutters.

  Think, Sadie. Think!

  She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She was too mesmerised by the blood. And the smell … coppery, metallic.

  Nausea rose up, clogging her throat.

  Think, Sadie.

  Suddenly it came to her, out of nowhere. A distant memory of two weeks earlier, a misty October morning, the leaves turning on the oak tree outside the classroom. Sadie’s attention wandering, listening to Miss Pascoe explaining the principles of the tourniquet …

  She unwound the scarf from around her neck and stepped forward on legs that barely held her up.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘You need to tie this around his leg, to stop it bleeding. Between the wound and his heart.’

  The men looked up at her, and for a moment she thought they were going to tell her to go away.

  ‘You a nurse or something?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her throat dry. ‘Yes, I – I’m a nurse.’

  One of the men stood up. ‘You do it then,’ he said.

  Sadie’s head swam as she forced herself to kneel down. Why was she doing this? It wasn’t what she was used to. So far she had only dressed wounds on a nice clean dummy in the practice room. This was a real man, stinking of dirt and sweat and blood.

  She knelt down beside him. The stench of the blood made her feel sick; she recoiled from the hot stickiness of it flowing over her shaking hands as she tried to apply the tourniquet.

  Between the wound and the heart. The wound and the heart, she told herself, over and over again. But there was nothing there. Just a crushed, bloodied mass of flesh and shattered bone, like nothing she had ever seen before …

  ‘Don’t bother with that.’ Suddenly someone was at her side. A smartly dressed young woman knelt beside her, blood soaking through her skirt.

  Sadie stared at her, dazed. But the young woman barely seemed aware of her as she shrugged off her jacket and examined the man.

  ‘Put him flat on his back,’ she ordered the onlookers.

  Sadie stepped back as they wrestled the man over, his limbs flopping like a rag doll’s. She could see from his livid blue lips that the life had already almost gone from him.

  She watched as the young woman rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, exposing a slim white forearm, then drew herself up on to her knees over the man’s apparently lifeless body.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Sadie whispered, but the young woman ignored her. She made her right arm rigid then drove her fist hard into the man’s belly, leaning down on it with all her weight. Locks of dark hair escaped from under her hat, falling around her face.

  ‘How’s the bleeding?’ she asked through gritted teeth.

  Sadie checked the wound. ‘It’s stopped!’ She stared down at t
he ruined pulp, where only seconds before blood had flowed over her hands and into her lap.

  The young woman nodded. ‘Good. I’ll just have to hold him like this until the ambulance arrives.’ She sent Sadie a sidelong look. ‘The tourniquet was a good idea,’ she said.

  Sadie nodded, unable to speak. She suddenly felt very hot, in spite of the cold November weather.

  ‘Are you all right?’ The young woman’s voice sounded strange, as if she was underwater.

  Sadie nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ The young woman sighed impatiently. ‘Can someone take this girl away please, before she faints?’

  Sadie struggled to her feet. ‘I – I’m all right,’ honestly—’ The last thing she saw was the young woman’s face turning fuzzy in front of her, before her knees buckled and she slid to the ground.

  Chapter Nine

  Kate Carlyle ran a practised eye over the rows of benches in the Casualty Hall. There was a woman with a crying baby, a small boy who wouldn’t stop scratching, a sprained wrist, two burns and a rather fat man who kept clutching his chest and grimacing.

  Dyspepsia, she thought. He had too much colour in his florid face for there to be anything wrong with his heart, no matter what he might think. All he needed was an aperient.

  The small boy had scabies and needed sulphur treatment, and the baby was simply miserable. Its mother gave Kate more concern. She was pale and tired-looking, and in desperate need of a tonic.

  She sat back, bored. She had been waiting for nearly an hour, and in that time had mentally diagnosed everyone who came in, treated them and sent them home again. And yet no Casualty doctor had appeared for at least twenty minutes. Even the Casualty nurse, seated on her dais at the far end of the hall, seemed to be asleep at her desk.

  Kate shook her head. Lazy and inefficient. If she was working here, there would never be a queue.

  If she was working here …

  The door opened and a doctor appeared, a stocky young man in his late twenties, with a shock of wavy brown hair brushed back off his high forehead. He spotted Kate and headed for her.

  ‘You came in with the driver of the coal wagon?’