‘Whoa, no one is telling anyone anything. He has an upper respiratory tract infection, it was as close to pneumonia as it could get. The man Arthur, who brought him in, said he was looking after him and he did the right thing, coming straight to the hospital. No one could have done any more or any better.’
‘Is he going to die?’ She was crying uncontrollably. ‘If he is, it’s my fault, not his.’
‘No, no, he isn’t going to die. I gave him a drug to help his breathing. We got oxygen into his lungs and a dose of antibiotics and steroids into him, just in case, and because we got them in intravenously, I’m sure he will respond very quickly. He’s already fifty per cent better than when he came in through the doors, and he has one of the best chest doctors in the country with him right now. All he is missing is his mum.’
Tilly turned her head and stared out of the window. She didn’t want him to see her shame, her guilt, her tears. When Matron found out, she would lose this job. She was a single mother. It had all been so promising and on tonight of all nights, on Christmas Eve, it would all be taken away from her.
‘How did you know where I lived?’ her voice was almost a whisper.
‘Because Sister Theresa told me.’
‘Sister Theresa! How, why did she tell you?’ She almost spluttered the question, not knowing what she was saying.
‘Arthur, your sailor babysitter, he went outside to see a Mrs Kelly who turned up and they both went outside for a cigarette. Sister Theresa was visiting Matron and saw them and came straight in. Mrs Kelly and Arthur are a good pair of accomplices, neither of them breathed a word that you were Sam’s mother. They thought they were protecting you and I think Mrs Kelly was in a bit of a state about it.’
‘That will be my job, gone, then,’ she said sadly. ‘I suppose one way or another, they will get to take him off me.’
‘I won’t let that happen, ever,’ he said softly, as they turned though the hospital gates. ‘He is getting better already, no one will know, I will make sure of that.’ As he saw the tears pour down her face, he had to prevent himself from stopping the car and taking her into his arms and holding her tight. His overwhelming desire was to comfort this brave young woman who had been carrying the hardest secret and despite it all, doing the very best she could.
As soon as Tilly saw Sam, her sobs became uncontrollable. ‘Oh my God, my God, my boy.’
Dr Gaskell was writing something in a set of notes and Night Sister was writing on a chart at the bottom of the oxygen cot. The one night light on the wall threw down a pool of light over the Eliot tent.
‘Go on, you can slip your arms around him,’ Dr Gaskell said to Tilly. ‘Nurse is going to transfer him to Sister on Children’s Ward right now. The worst is over.’
Dr Gaskell laid down the notes and looked up at her. ‘I’m afraid he will have to stay in, probably for a couple of weeks at the very least, but please, don’t worry. He was very poorly when he arrived. Your babysitters did a good job getting him here when they did.’
Tilly put her face inside the open tent, next to her son’s and he wound his fingers around her long hair. He was not his usual self, but subdued, quiet.
‘Can I stay with him?’ she asked.
Dr Gaskell looked apologetic. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid the rules don’t allow it. But you will be able to see him tomorrow, the visiting hours are extended on Christmas Day and, as you work here, I’m sure you will get to spend your breaks and extra time with him. We look after our own here, don’t we, Matron?’ Matron appeared in the light and behind her stood Sister Theresa.
‘I, I, I’m so sorry,’ Tilly spluttered.
‘Don’t be,’ said Matron. ‘I already know everything. I knew it before I took you on. Sister Theresa here couldn’t sing your praises highly enough. She persuaded me that to take you on would be one of the best things I did all year and she was right. I’ve been delighted with your work. We all have. You have only been here a week, but as Dr Gaskell said, you are one of our own now. You have nothing to worry about. We will look after you.’
Tilly looked at Sister Theresa. ‘I’m so sorry. You must have thought I was a right stubborn pain. I was just so scared.’
‘I didn’t think anything of the kind,’ said Sister Theresa. ‘Your determination to look after Sam was what drove you and I could see that. You aren’t alone, Tilly, you have friends.’
‘I’m ready now,’ said the night nurse, preparing to move the oxygen tent away from the wall.
‘I’ll walk with you,’ said Dr Cohen, who saw the clock on the wall said eight forty. He was too late, had missed his train and his Christmas.
‘And, so shall I,’ said Dr Gaskell.
‘You don’t have to,’ said Matron. ‘You can join Sister and me in my apartment for a glass of sherry.’
She knew his game and what he was up to. Every Christmas Eve, his wife invited over her bridge circle for drinks, and he always liked to be busy.
Dr Gaskell grinned as he gave the notes to Dr Cohen. ‘Matron, lead me to the bottle. After this little emergency, I’m all yours.’
‘If you don’t mind, I have something to do first,’ said Sister Theresa. ‘I’ll be back. As it’s Christmas Eve, pour me a large glass, but don’t you dare tell a living soul. I’ll make my own confession with the only person who matters.’
‘Gosh, it is a Christmas of secrets,’ laughed Matron, hooking her arm through Dr Gaskell’s, as they made their way out of Casualty.
Sister Theresa found them both outside, huddled up against the icy wind against the Casualty door, sharing a cigarette.
‘How is he, Mother?’ asked Arthur. ‘I was scared out of me wits. Does she blame me?’
‘No, Arthur, she does not. She is grateful to you, to you both, as we all are. She’s just a bit upset at the moment. They are keeping him in and transferring him to the Children’s Ward right now.’
‘Oh, thank Christ.’ Arthur wiped his brow and looked on the verge of tears. ‘It all happened so quick, Mother. One minute he was fine and the next, he was burning up and went all floppy in me arms. It was only minutes, I swear to God.’
‘I believe that it is how it is with little ones, sometimes,’ Sister Theresa said. ‘The good side is that they recover as fast as they go down and he is most definitely recovering.’
Mrs Kelly dropped the cigarette to the floor and stubbed it out with the toe of her shoe. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved in all me bleedin’ life. Where is Tilly now, then?’ Mrs Kelly peered in through the doors of Casualty.
‘One of the doctors has gone with her to the Children’s Ward. I’m sure he will bring her back later and now, I think you both need a lift back home.’
‘To the Queen’s more like,’ said Mrs Kelly, ‘and don’t you be giving me none of your lectures about the evils of drink, Sister, me nerves are shot after tonight. I need one. Nor you, Arthur. None of your nonsense either and besides, when we get back, they’ll all be buying me and you free drinks. We won’t even ’ave to put our hands in our pockets and that doesn’t happen very often. It’s what Liverpool people are like, Sister, we look after each other.’ Mrs Kelly held up her hand. ‘No, Sister, you can’t stop me, I am ’avin a bleedin’ drink. I’ll go to confession tomorrow, if you want me to. Look, me hand is still shaking.’ Mrs Kelly held out her hand and it was trembling.
Sister Theresa had been about to tell her that she was sure she had earned a drink and the good Lord would turn a blind eye on this occasion, but instead, she smiled. ‘As you wish, Mrs Kelly. Come along, I’ll drop you at the Queen’s.’
10
It took a while to settle Sam into the ward. The night nurse on Children’s was kind and in no rush to push Tilly out. Dr Cohen disappeared into the office to make a telephone call and through the drip, administered another dose of antibiotics. Sam was in a deep sleep by the time he finished. The ward was dark and quiet, silent except for a gentle hiss from the oxygen tent, the slight rattle on Sam’s c
hest when he breathed in and the squeak of the crêpe-soled night nurse’s shoes as she walked along the corridor. Andrew placed the needle and the empty ampule of antibiotics into an enamel kidney dish and handed them to the night nurse.
She said, ‘I only have two of them in tonight and there’s two of us, so don’t you worry, he will be well looked after, but, I’ll be pushing it with Matron if I let you stay much longer and besides, he’ll want you here tomorrow, at visiting.’
Tilly knew she was right. Her heart had stopped beating quite so fast, her own breathing had calmed, she knew Sam was safe.
As they walked outside, the snow began to fall softly again, and it was as sobering as a slap on the face. ‘Oh, my Lord, your train at nine o’clock.’ Tilly’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes opened wide.
Andrew shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. ‘Well, that’s it, then. I’m trapped for Christmas, all alone.’
‘Oh, I am so, so sorry.’
‘Stop,’ he said and took one of her thin, cold hands in his. It felt so soft and frail, unlike his own.
She didn’t pull away. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to do.
‘Listen, I’ve taken a dreadful liberty and I hope you won’t object. Whilst we were in the ward, I telephoned my housekeeper, Mrs Hope. I gave her the awful job of calling my sister, to say I wasn’t coming after all. I also asked her to air a bed for you and to make us some supper. She was very happy to do both. She’s also lit the fire in the sitting room and opened a bottle of wine. It’s Christmas Eve, I think you need a little looking after and with Sam responding to treatment, we have something to celebrate.’
Tilly went to speak, but he grabbed her other hand and laughed. ‘Just for the one night, please? Would you allow me? There is nothing improper in my suggestion. Mrs Hope is in her rooms. You won’t have to defend your honour.’
Tilly’s face softened and she smiled. She really couldn’t think of anything nicer. ‘I want to be back here for visiting,’ she said.
‘And you will and I shall drive you and take you back home. I have a telephone, so you can drive the night nurse mad and phone every hour, if you want to see how he is. Although, better that you just eat, drink and rest.’
Tilly couldn’t think of anything that sounded nicer or anywhere else she would rather be.
*
Dr Gaskell poked at Matron’s fire and sat back in the chair, nursing his glass. Matron stood at the window and watched, while Tilly and Dr Cohen walked hand in hand to his car.
‘I’ll have to go soon,’ said Dr Gaskell. ‘I’ll give it until ten, the last of the battleaxes will have gone by then. If I go before, I’ll be bombarded with a dozen questions about hysterectomies and varicose veins.’
He sipped his drink and turning to her, said, ‘Where’s yours?’
They had worked together for so many years, spent so much time in each other’s company, that they spoke the language of people who had been married for a long time.
‘I’m coming. Just looking out for Sister Theresa’s car coming back,’ she replied as she filled her sherry glass and moved to her chair, tucking her navy dress under her legs. In the warm light of the fire reflecting from her face, he thought she looked like the young Matron he had once known.
‘How many Christmas Eves have we spent like this?’ he asked.
She sipped her drink. ‘Do you know, I don’t want to count.’
‘Me neither. Here’s an easier question, how are you going to manage your latest problem, employing a single mother? There will be gossip, you know there will.’
‘Come here,’ she said. He followed her to the window.
‘Oh, my,’ he said.
Tilly and Dr Cohen had just reached his car and, as the interior light came on, they both saw him bend and her face reach up to his, as he kissed her on the lips.
‘I don’t think she will be single for very long, do you?’
Dr Gaskell smiled. ‘How apposite that he met her in Casualty at this, of all times.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Matron raised her glass to his. ‘On tonight of all nights. I think his mother’s spirit has played a hand in this. Christmas, a time to remember our dear and departed friends.’
Their glasses clinked, as Andrew and Tilly drove out through the hospital gates together.
We hope you enjoyed this book.
Nadine Dorries’ next book, Mary Kate, is coming in January 2019
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About Nadine Dorries
NADINE DORRIES grew up in a working-class family in Liverpool. She trained as a nurse herself, then followed with a successful career in the health industry in which she established and then sold her own business. She has been the MP for Mid-Bedfordshire since 2005 and has three daughters.
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About The Lovely Lane Series
It is 1953 and five very different girls are arriving at the nurses’ home in Lovely Lane, Liverpool, to start their training at St Angelus Hospital.
Dana has escaped from her family farm on the west coast of Ireland. Victoria is running away from a debt-ridden aristocratic background. Beth is an army brat and throws in her lot with bitchy Celia Forsyth. And Pammy has come from quite the wrong side of the tracks in Liverpool.
Now they find themselves in a very different world. From formidable Matron, to terrifying Sister Antrobus. From kind housekeeper, Mrs Duffy, to Dessie, who rules the porter’s lads – not to mention the doctors, who range from crusty to glamorous. Everyone has their place at St Angelus and woe betide anyone who strays from it.
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About The Four Streets Trilogy
In the tight-knit Irish Catholic community of the Four Streets, two girls are growing up.
One is motherless – and hated by the cold woman who is determined to take her dead mother’s place. The other is hiding a dreadful secret which she dare not let slip to anyone, lest it rips the heart out of the community.
What can the people of the Four Streets do when a betrayal at the very heart of their world comes to light?
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First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Nadine Dorries, 2018
The moral right of Nadine Dorries to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781789541984
Author Photo: Cassie Dorries
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