‘Me?’ Millie pulled an innocent expression in the mirror as she applied her lipstick. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘There are no Americans, are there? There was never any letter, either.’
Millie grinned. ‘All right, perhaps I did embellish the truth a little. But it worked, didn’t it? Granny would never have agreed if I’d approached her with the hospital idea straight out.’
‘Very shrewd,’ William commented.
‘You have to be, if you want to stay one step ahead of my grandmother.’ Millie smiled. ‘I’m so glad we’ll be opening a hospital here. It will give me something to occupy my mind while you’re up in Lincolnshire.’
The thought of being separated from him after so long together cast a shadow over their relationship. But Millie was determined not to let him see how upset and worried she was. She had to try to learn to let tomorrow take care of itself.
‘Of course,’ William said, ‘if you’re opening a hospital then you’re going to need doctors, aren’t you?’
‘I should say so.’ She eyed him cautiously, hope kindling inside her chest. ‘Why? What are you saying?’
‘I was thinking of applying to work for the Red Cross myself,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve pushed my luck far enough with flying.’ He sent her a wry look. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider me for a position, would you?’
Millie pretended to think about it. ‘Well, you’d have to pass a very strict selection process,’ she said.
His brows rose. ‘Oh, yes? How strict?’
‘Extremely.’ She allowed her gaze to trail down his long, lean body. After three weeks of marriage, she was still very much enjoying her honeymoon. ‘And it would involve a very thorough physical examination …’
On a damp day in April, Grace married her airman.
It wasn’t a grand wedding by any means, but Grace was overwhelmed by the way everyone in the village had come together to make it special for her. Friends and neighbours had contributed ration coupons for the wedding breakfast. Mrs Huntley-Osborne commandeered the village hall for the reception and mustered the WVS to prepare a spread of potted meat and fishpaste sandwiches, and a variety of cakes and fancies. The centrepiece was an impressive wedding cake, covered in what looked like ornate royal icing, but was actually a simple fruit cake inside an elaborate cardboard façade.
Grace had already bought herself a nice two-piece costume from Waymarks in Tunbridge Wells but on the morning of the wedding her friend Pearl had surprised her with the most beautiful dress, sewn from a length of parachute silk her farmer husband had found in one of his fields.
‘I might not be as good a cook as you, but I’m handy with a needle,’ she’d said with a smile.
‘Oh, Pearl, it’s smashing!’ Grace smoothed her hand over the delicate fabric. She had never worn anything so beautiful in her whole life.
‘It’s not all my own work,’ her friend admitted. ‘Miss Pomfrey did all the beading and embroidery. You know I haven’t got the patience for all that fiddly work.’
Daisy, her bridesmaid, did Grace’s hair for her. She’d taken great pains with it, pinning and curling it into a halo of soft fair waves around her face. Grace scarcely recognised herself when she looked in the mirror, especially after Daisy had applied some powder and mascara and a soft pink lipstick.
‘Oh, Dais, you’ve made me look really pretty!’ she marvelled.
‘You are pretty,’ Daisy replied. ‘You just need to take a bit more time and trouble with yourself, instead of worrying about other people all the time.’
With everyone working together, the wedding day was wonderful. Not least because Grace was marrying Max. He looked so handsome in his uniform, she almost had to pinch herself before she could believe he was her husband.
She wasn’t the only one admiring him. ‘I wish I’d waited for a handsome Canadian, instead of marrying a fat farmer!’ Pearl complained. ‘Just think, not only are you going to live in the mountains, you’re also going to wake up next to that lovely-looking man for the rest of your life!’
‘I know! Some people have all the luck, don’t they?’ Grace looked across the room at Max.
‘You deserve it, love. It’s about time you had a bit of happiness.’ Pearl gave Grace a wobbly smile. ‘But I’ll miss you,’ she said. ‘Who’s going to protect me from Mrs Huntley-Osborne if you’re not here?’
‘I think Mrs Huntley-Osborne is too busy with her new granddaughter to give you much trouble,’ Grace said, glancing across to where she sat contentedly nursing the baby in her arms.
For once, the village busybody had found herself the topic of gossip when it came out that her son Clifford was the father of Sarah Newland’s baby. But talk had soon died down, and now Mrs Huntley-Osborne could be seen proudly pushing her grandchild up and down the village in her new Silver Cross pram, forcing people to stop and admire her.
‘She’s beside herself now Sarah’s working for Lady Amelia,’ Grace said. Millie had taken Sarah on as a nanny when Nanny Perks left. Grace had never got on with Perks, and suspected Her Ladyship wasn’t sorry to see her go, either. Now Sarah brought her baby daughter to Billinghurst whenever she could wrestle her from her grandmother’s clutches, and Mrs Huntley-Osborne went around bragging to all and sundry that little Jessie Elizabeth and Lord Henry were playmates.
‘I’ll miss this place,’ Grace sighed, looking around her.
‘Get away with you! You won’t give us a second thought once you’re over in Canada, with all that fresh air and lovely scenery.’ Pearl looked meaningfully across the room at Max when she said it.
‘You will keep an eye on Daisy for me, won’t you?’ Grace said anxiously.
‘I said I would, didn’t I? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble. But she’s a big girl now, don’t forget. She can look after herself.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ sighed Grace. But it was still difficult to admit it.
All too soon, it was time for them to leave. Grace hugged her sister fiercely. ‘I wish you were coming with me,’ she cried.
‘So do I,’ Daisy mumbled into her shoulder as she clung to her. ‘But maybe it’s time we both learned to stand on our own two feet, don’t you think?’
‘You’re right.’ Grace pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Now you will remember to feed the chickens, won’t you? Make sure you keep the coop locked at night, so the foxes can’t get in. And you’ll make sure you eat properly?’
‘Grace! What did I just say about standing on my own two feet?’
Grace sniffed back her tears. ‘Old habits die hard.’
Daisy smiled. ‘It won’t be for ever,’ she said. ‘You go and find me a nice Canadian lumberjack to marry, and I’ll be over there like a shot.’
‘It’s a promise.’
They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. ‘Goodbye, Daisy.’ Grace could hardly manage the words. She stared at her sister, as if she could somehow force into her all the wisdom and knowledge she felt Daisy needed to survive without her.
‘Goodbye, Gracie.’ Daisy was looking back at her, and Grace had the feeling she was doing just the same.
*
Peter Drake was at the wedding reception, looking like a fish out of water as usual. He seemed even more awkward out of his white doctor’s coat as he stood in the corner, polishing his spectacles.
He always did that when he was nervous, Jess thought. It was one of the things she’d had time to notice during the five weeks she’d spent in isolation.
Jess had hardly seen him since she’d returned to work. She had been moved up to Female Surgical, which brought her more into contact with the Senior Surgical Officer Mr Cooper than with the physicians.
Feeling sorry for Dr Drake, Jess went over to say hello.
‘Oh, hello, Nurse.’ He fumbled to put his spectacles back on. ‘How are you? Feeling better, I hope?’
‘Much better, thank you, sir.’
&nb
sp; ‘Splendid. That’s – er – splendid. And the scar?’
‘Almost healed.’ Jess arched her neck so he could see the faint pink line on her throat.
‘Yes, that all looks very good.’ He turned his gaze towards the cardboard wedding cake in the centre of the table. ‘You gave us all a bit of a fright there, Nurse.’
‘So I heard, sir. You saved my life, by all accounts.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ Colour rose in his face and he took off his glasses again, polishing them feverishly on the hem of his jacket.
Jess wondered what he would say if she told him how he had come and rescued her in her dream. She had been poised in the moment between life and death, and it had been his voice, his presence, that had brought her back.
He probably would have told her what she already knew. That it was only a dream, a trick of her imagination brought on by the fever. But Jess was still comforted by the idea that Sam was somewhere out there waiting for her, and that she would see him again one day, when the time was right.
In the meantime, she had to go on living her life as best she could, for Sam’s sake as well as her own.
‘How are you enjoying the Female Surgical ward?’ Peter Drake asked.
Jess looked at him in surprise. How did he know where she had been sent? ‘It’s very interesting,’ she said. ‘But I might not be there too long. Miss Fox has said I can go back to London, if I want to.’
Dr Drake looked dismayed. ‘And will you go?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’ Jess smiled. ‘I’m quite enjoying it here.’
She’d never thought she’d hear herself say it, but she’d got used to the countryside, and the people in it.
She was grateful for the wisdom of Miss Fox. The Nightingale’s matron had realised, even if Jess hadn’t at the time, that she needed time and space to come to terms with what had happened to Sam.
‘I hope you stay,’ Dr Drake said, then added quickly, ‘you’re a good nurse and they’re hard to find.’
‘In that case, I’ll definitely have to stay, won’t I?’ Jess smiled at him. He promptly dropped his spectacles in his confusion.
As he bent down to pick them up, something fell from his jacket pocket.
‘Looks like you’ve dropped something—’
‘I’ll get that—’
Dr Drake went to snatch it up but Jess got there first.
She stared down at the twisted fragment of paper in her hand. It was a little more tattered than it had been, but it was unmistakably the spring of paper mistletoe that Daisy had put up in the ward at Christmas. The one Dr Drake had later taken down in a fit of embarrassed pique.
Had he really kept it all this time? Jess wondered.
‘I don’t know how that got there,’ he said, blushing furiously. But at the same time, Jess caught the slightest hint of a shy smile on his lips.
He’ll take care of you, Sam had said in her dream. She looked down at the paper mistletoe in her hand. It was going to be slow going, she thought. But perhaps, by next Christmas, they would be ready to put it to good use.
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Epub ISBN: 9781473517295
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Copyright © Donna Douglas 2015
Donna Douglas has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Arrow Books
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ISBN 9780099599586
Nightingales Under the Mistletoe Page 36