Nightingales Under the Mistletoe

by Donna Douglas

  Tommo looked away, his face flushed. ‘I expect I’ll find somewhere,’ he mumbled.

  ‘My wife and I wondered if you’d consider coming to stay with us?’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of room, and I’m sure Alan would like it if you were close by,’ his mother put in eagerly.

  Tommo stared from one to the other of them, and Grace could see that for once he was lost for words. ‘I – I dunno what to say,’ he muttered, his colour deepening.

  ‘Think about it, anyway.’ Alan’s father cleared his throat. ‘I could fix you up with a job too, if you like? I’ve got a shortage of workers at my engineering firm. You never know, perhaps one day you and Alan might work together …’ He glanced at his son, hope and sadness in his eyes.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Tommo said. But even though he was doing his best to appear nonchalant, Grace could see the look of dazed wonder in his face. It was as if all his Christmases had come at once.

  It was Grace who spoke first. ‘Right, let’s get you ready, shall we, Alan? Have you brought a coat for him, Mrs Jones? It’s cold outside, and he won’t be used to it. We don’t want you catching a chill, do we?’

  As his mother busied herself helping Alan into his coat, his father collected up the suitcase. Grace went off to fetch a wheelchair, but Alan shook his head.

  ‘You want to walk?’ Grace flashed a look at Miss Wallace, but she was busy with another patient. ‘Well, I’m not sure—’

  ‘Let him walk, if he wants to,’ Tommo broke in. ‘Lazy devil’s been lying around too long, it’ll do him good to get some exercise.’

  Alan’s parents looked startled by Tommo’s bluntness, but Alan gave another of his crooked smiles. He lurched forward and rested his hand on Tommo’s shoulder.

  ‘My … mate.’ The words were slow and slurred, but unmistakable.

  They went off slowly, Alan walking between his parents. Each step was slow and halting, but determination was written all over his face.

  ‘Reckon I might have to take them up on their offer, just to make sure they don’t mollycoddle him,’ Tommo said with an air of studied casualness. He watched Alan go. ‘That’s right, mate,’ he murmured. ‘You stand on your own two feet.’

  ‘Who is responsible for this?’

  A deathly silence fell over the Military Ward. Miss Wallace was such a cheerful soul usually that when her voice took on that icy tone, everyone knew it meant trouble for someone.

  She was standing at the bed of their latest patient, a delicate-looking young lieutenant. He was supposed to be being treated for eye injuries and a septic gunshot wound in his thigh, but looked as if he was having an asthma attack. He was grey in the face and struggling for breath.

  Daisy felt her heart sink to her stout black shoes.

  ‘Whoever attended to this patient has cleaned his wound with perchloride of mercury,’ Miss Wallace said. ‘His notes specifically state that he has a severe allergy to mercury, and that only Lysol or carbolic is to be used.’ The sister’s dark gaze swept the room. ‘Someone has failed to read the notes correctly, and as a result they have subjected this poor man to a great deal of misery and discomfort. I would like to know who did it?’

  Daisy felt sick. She should have read those notes, but she had been so busy that morning.

  But she knew no excuse would wash with Sister. Better to admit her guilt and suffer the punishment …

  ‘It was me, Sister.’ Daisy looked up sharply as Grace stepped forward. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I know I should have checked the notes. I – I didn’t think.’

  Miss Wallace turned to her. ‘Really, Maynard, I’m very disappointed in you,’ she said. ‘You’re usually such a conscientious girl, I don’t understand how you could have made such a silly mistake.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sister.’ Grace hung her head, her hands locked behind her back, every inch the contrite VAD.

  Daisy opened her mouth to speak, but Grace shot her a silencing look.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t allow a mistake like this to go unnoticed,’ Miss Wallace said, with genuine regret in her voice. ‘I shall be putting you in my report.’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’

  The report was a written record of the events that had happened on the ward during the course of a day or a night. It included details of nurses who had particularly shone during their duty, as well as those who didn’t. Too many black marks on the ward report could mean dismissal. It would certainly make it hard to get a good reference.

  As Miss Wallace walked away, Daisy sidled up to Grace. ‘What did you do that for?’ she hissed. ‘You know I treated that patient, so why did you tell her it was you?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to get into trouble.’

  ‘But it was my fault!’

  ‘Yes, but a bad ward report would reflect poorly on you.’

  ‘It will reflect badly on you, too.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m only a VAD. I don’t matter.’

  Daisy stared at her. That was Grace’s attitude towards everything, she realised. She didn’t matter. Whether it was sharing out food at the dinner table or deciding who was to get a new pair of shoes, Grace automatically put herself last.

  And now she had landed herself in trouble to save Daisy’s skin.

  But it wasn’t only the thought of her sister’s punishment that troubled Daisy as she went about her morning routine of taking temperatures and pulses, and administering massage and medicine.

  She couldn’t forget what Max had told her: how Grace had turned down the chance of a new life in Canada with the man she loved because she needed to put her family first.

  The reason Daisy had been able to become a nurse was because Grace had given up her own chance of an education to look after her brothers and sisters. While Daisy, Albie, Walter and Ann had gone off into the world, Grace had stayed humbly in the background, taking a quiet pride in their achievements. If Daisy soared, it was because Grace had given her the wings.

  She watched her sister at the far end of the ward, quietly going about her work. Now it was time to give her some wings, too.

  Miss Wallace was surprised when Daisy approached her just before lunch.

  ‘Yes, Nurse Maynard?’ Now her temper had calmed, she was back to her pleasant self.

  ‘Please, Sister. I used the perchloride of mercury on that patient, not Grace.’

  Miss Wallace frowned. ‘But I don’t understand. Why would she take the blame for you if she didn’t do it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Sister.’

  ‘I see. I must say, I did think it was rather out of character for her to be so careless.’ Miss Wallace considered it for a moment, then said, ‘Well, thank you for owning up, Nurse. I appreciate your honesty.’

  ‘Thank you, Sister.’

  Grace was waiting for her sister in the kitchen. She was supposed to be making beef tea for one of the patients on a liquid diet, but the moment Daisy came in she turned on her.

  ‘What were you saying to Sister?’

  ‘I told her I used the perchloride of mercury, not you.’

  ‘But why?’ Grace looked anguished. ‘Now you’ll get into trouble.’

  ‘Yes, and I deserve it,’ Daisy said. ‘You can’t keep protecting me for ever, Grace.’

  She was silent, staring at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

  ‘I spoke to Max,’ Daisy broke the silence. ‘He told me he’d asked you to go to Canada with him.’

  Grace’s expression darkened. ‘He shouldn’t have said anything,’ she said.

  ‘Why did you say no?’

  Grace looked round at her. ‘How can I go to Canada when I’ve got you and the kids to look after?’

  ‘He told me Ann and Walter could go with you. Don’t you think they’d enjoy that?’

  ‘Yes, but what about you?’ Grace’s face was pinched with anxiety.

  ‘What about me? I’m old enough to look after myself. And I’ve got used to living in at the Nurses’ Home.’ Daisy touched Grace’s arm so
she turned around to face her sister. ‘You’ve been so good to me, Grace. I haven’t wanted for anything since Mum died, thanks to you. But I’ll never grow up unless you stop protecting me, like you just did with Sister.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Grace smiled ruefully. ‘It’s a hard habit to break, that’s all.’

  ‘So where better to break it than the other side of the world?’ Daisy paused then went on, ‘Look, I know I was selfish about you and Max, but I can see now you two are made for each other. You love him, don’t you, Grace?’

  ‘I hardly know him,’ she mumbled, colour flooding her face. ‘What if it doesn’t work out?’

  ‘You won’t know until you try, will you? And besides, I have a feeling it will work out very well.’

  As Grace turned away to make the beef tea, Daisy saw a slight smile curving her lips. She was already daring to consider the possibility of a new life.

  But by the time she’d finished preparing the drink, her old doubts were back in place.

  ‘I can’t go,’ she said. ‘It’s not right.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? Stay in the village for ever? Ann isn’t a baby any more, Gracie. Soon we’ll all have grown up and left, and then where will you be? Stuck in that cottage with no one for company, wishing you’d taken the chance when it was offered to you.’

  Grace smiled shyly at her. ‘I wish I had your confidence, Dais.’

  ‘Then let me give it to you,’ Daisy urged. ‘You take my wings and fly, Gracie. Fly as far away from here as you can.’

  Chapter Fifty

  ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Effie, happy birthday to you!’

  Effie sang grimly to her reflection in the scrap of mirror above the sluice sink. What a way to spend her twenty-first birthday, she thought, scraping vomit off a sheet down a plug hole.

  It wasn’t even as if she could have a laugh today. It was lonely on the ward without Jess and Daisy around. But with Jess still recovering in isolation, and Daisy on the Military Ward, that only left sour-faced Sister Allen to share her birthday with.

  As if she had somehow summoned her with her thoughts, the sluice door suddenly flew open and Sister Allen appeared, hauling a bag of soiled dressings.

  ‘These need to be taken down to the incinerator and disposed of immediately,’ she instructed. ‘Stat!’ she added, when Effie didn’t move straight away.

  The incinerator was kept away from the main hospital building, in a squat brick-built shed called the Furnace Room. The gigantic incinerator filled the small room, its gaping, fiery maw like a portal to hell. The orderlies manned the furnace in shifts, stripped to their vests, feeding the beast with soiled dressings, amputated limbs and any other ghastly detritus that the hospital wished to be rid of. Because of the stench and the roaring, uncomfortable heat it belched out, very few of the senior staff ever ventured down there. Which made it a popular hiding place for the junior nurses and medical students.

  Just Effie’s luck, it was Connor who was on furnace duty today, shovelling rubbish from a heap into the burning jaws with a pitchfork. Silhouetted against the bright circle of fire, with his dark colouring and the red glow of the furnace reflected on his skin, he couldn’t have looked more like one of the devil’s minions if he’d tried.

  Effie watched him unseen for a moment. Even though she didn’t like him, she could appreciate what a perfect specimen of manhood he was. His vest clung to him damply, outlining every muscle of his toned, broad-shouldered physique.

  He stopped for a moment to push a damp curl out of his eyes, and caught her watching him.

  ‘Enjoying the show?’ he said quietly.

  Effie cleared her throat. ‘Sister Allen told me to bring these dressings down to you.’ She shoved the sack at him, not meeting his eye. He picked it up and swung it easily into the furnace, where it was swallowed by the leaping flames.

  As Effie turned away, he said, ‘Happy birthday, by the way.’

  She stopped. He was the only person who’d wished her that all day. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember.’

  ‘How could I not remember you turn twenty one today?’ His mouth twisted. ‘You’ve been counting the days ever since I arrived, haven’t you?’

  ‘And now it’s here,’ she said. ‘I’m a free woman, I can do as I like.’

  ‘God help us all,’ Connor muttered. He leaned on his pitchfork. ‘So what has your fiancé bought you for your birthday? Not an engagement ring, by any chance?’

  His mocking gaze fell to her left hand. Effie hid it in the folds of her skirt. ‘Even if he had, I wouldn’t be wearing it on duty, as you well know,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no, then.’

  Effie lifted her chin. ‘As a matter of fact, I won’t know what he’s bought me until I see him tomorrow. He’s taking me up to London for dinner,’ she announced proudly.

  ‘London, eh?’ Connor sounded impressed, but the teasing glint in his eyes told a different story.

  Effie turned away, irritated. Why did he manage to get under her skin so easily?

  As she went to walk away, Connor called after her, ‘By the way, I’ve got a present for you, too.’

  ‘Have you? Where?’ Effie looked around warily. She wouldn’t put it past Connor to present her with a severed leg and think it was hilarious.

  ‘It’s more of a surprise,’ he said.

  ‘A nice surprise?’

  ‘I think you’ll like it.’ He paused for a moment then said, ‘I’m leaving.’

  Effie stared at him. ‘You’re going back to Ireland?’

  He nodded. ‘I can’t stay here for ever,’ he said. ‘Summer’s coming and I’m needed on the farm. I’ve already stayed away far too long. Besides, what’s there to keep me here, now you’re making your own way in the world?’

  What indeed? He was watching her face closely, waiting for her reaction. But Effie didn’t quite know how to respond.

  ‘What will you tell Mammy?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll tell her the truth, that you’re of an age now to do as you please.’

  ‘Will you tell her about Kit?’

  He smiled. ‘I think that’s best left to you, don’t you? Although I’d like a front seat when you finally pluck up the courage to tell your father you’re marrying an English Protestant!’ he laughed.

  Effie sighed. She’d had more than a few sleepless nights over it herself.

  As if he could sense her troubled mood, Connor said, ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’

  Effie was instantly defensive. ‘Not again! When are you going to stop interfering, Connor Cleary?’

  ‘When that eejit proves he’s good enough for you.’

  She laughed, taken aback. ‘I didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me.’

  Connor didn’t crack a smile. ‘You’d be surprised,’ he said seriously.

  Their eyes met. Effie’s skin prickled with heat, but she put it down to the warmth belching from the furnace.

  ‘When are you going?’ she changed the subject.

  ‘I’m booked on the boat from Holyhead on Thursday morning. I’ll be catching the train from London tomorrow night.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

  Connor laughed. ‘Euphemia O’Hara! Have you just forgotten yourself and said something nice to me?’

  ‘No!’ she denied it, staring at the floor. ‘I just mean you’re the closest thing I’ve got to family over here. Like a brother.’

  His dark brows rose. ‘Is that what you think? That I’m like a brother?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ she asked.

  He dropped the pitchfork with a clatter and before Effie knew what was happening he’d crossed the room in a couple of strides, cupped her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her mouth. Effie braced herself, expecting him to try and dominate her the way Kit did. But even though he was physically much stronger, Connor’s kiss was the gentlest
she’d ever experienced. He barely brushed her mouth with his soft, dry lips, but it was enough to send a dart of pleasure right through her.

  He pulled away and smiled at her. ‘Did that feel like a brother’s kiss, Effie?’ he said softly.

  After she’d come off duty, Effie went to visit Jess in the sick bay on her way back to the Nurses’ Home.

  Jess was lying flat on her back, supported by pillows on either side to keep her still. It upset Effie to see the scar at her throat where Dr Drake had performed the emergency tracheostomy.

  But at least Jess was well enough to be bored.

  ‘I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this,’ she complained, her voice husky. ‘Dr Drake said I might have to stay here for five weeks. It’s not been five days and I’m fed up already!’

  ‘I borrowed a magazine off Mrs Flynn for you, so that might help,’ Effie set the copy of Woman’s Own down on the bedside locker. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  Jess managed a smile. ‘It’s all right, Nurse O’Hara, you’re not on duty now. You don’t have to attend to my every need! Sit down and tell me what’s going on in the outside world. Happy birthday, by the way. Your card’s on my dresser if you want to find it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Trust Jess Jago to be organised, thought Effie. Only she could get rushed to sick bay and still deliver a birthday card on time!

  Effie sat down beside the bed. ‘You gave us all quite a scare.’

  ‘Did I? I don’t remember much about it.’

  ‘You went downhill so quickly you took us all by surprise. One minute you were protesting that you were fine, the next you were delirious with fever, and couldn’t breathe for the wretched membrane in your throat. We all thought we’d lost you, until Dr Drake did that tracheostomy. He practically brought you back from the dead!’

  A strange, faraway look crossed Jess’s face. ‘I remember him bringing me back,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to come at first, but Sam made me—’

  She stopped dead, her ashen cheeks suddenly stained with hectic colour.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Effie said gently. ‘I found the letters under your bed. I wasn’t snooping, honestly,’ she said quickly, seeing the stony expression on Jess’s face. ‘I was only looking for Sam’s address so I could write and let him know you were ill.’