The Angels of Lovely Lane

by Nadine Dorries

  Although her father had spent most of his time in recent years alone, brooding and blaming, now that he had gone the Hall felt to Victoria as though the life had been sucked out of it. Minnie walked into the room, still in her black funeral attire complete with her hat, and spoke in a voice that was pleading for forgiveness.

  ‘May I join you?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Victoria. ‘Please, come and sit with Roland and me.’ She slipped her hand into Roland’s. Within an hour of the doctor having pronounced her father dead, she had taken charge.

  ‘Baker Hall is now yours,’ Roland had told her. ‘You’re in charge, not your father, God rest his soul, or your Aunt Minnie. It’s you. I’m sorry, that’s the solicitor in me, but I thought you should know. I documented your father’s will. Everything goes to you. Many of your father’s debts have died with him. Obviously, there are still death duties but things aren’t quite as bad as they were. You can negotiate with the Inland Revenue as this is possibly an unusual situation. I’m sorry, Victoria, but I know you will want to know.’

  Victoria knew that if Roland hadn’t been at her side she would have been swamped by all that faced her.

  ‘Right,’ she said, looking at him through eyes blackened and smudged by tears. ‘In that case, the first thing I am going to do is sack those solicitors. Is that all right with you?’

  Roland smiled down at her. ‘Darling, can I make that task a little easier for you? May I do it?’

  ‘Did you see that woman, Lady Bella, at the funeral?’ said Minnie now as she flopped down on the sofa next to Victoria. ‘God, if only she knew the truth. She had been trying to catch your father’s eye ever since your mother died. She would have loved to get her feet firmly under our table and bring her horrible children here.’ Aunt Minnie shuddered at the thought. Victoria hadn’t spoken to her much at all during the day and her aunt had felt it.

  Roland had been wonderful and had seen each of the mourners out through the front door with a businesslike farewell. He had acted just as a husband would have done and that was not lost on Victoria or, unbeknown to her, Aunt Minnie.

  He had helped to arrange the funeral, instructed the caterers, made small talk with the mourners. He had dealt with the police and the agents.

  ‘I don’t know how we would have managed without you this past week, Roland,’ said Aunt Minnie. ‘You went way beyond the call of duty and do you know, all the time, I couldn’t stop thinking about my husband,’ she tilted her head to remind Victoria, as though she could have forgotten, ‘your Uncle Jamie.’ There was a moment of silence while her remarks sank in.

  ‘I appreciate that.’ It was Roland who responded as he twirled his glass around in his fingers in a self-conscious manner. Victoria glanced at him under her eyelashes. This was his moment, not hers.

  ‘All the men in this family have gone,’ Minnie went on. ‘I kept thinking, if it hadn’t been for that hellish war, those young men would still be with us, at the head of our family today. I thought I saw their ghosts mixing with the mourners, and then I knew I was seeing them as they were, before the war, before they died. What in God’s name did we all do to deserve this?’

  ‘Don’t cry, Aunt Minnie. Here you go, drink the rest of this brandy, and put your head on the cushion. You must be exhausted.’ Victoria reached for a cushion at the small of her back and placed it behind her aunt’s head.

  ‘Thank you, sweetie,’ said Aunt Minnie. She patted Victoria’s hand.

  ‘Do you think if I had come home earlier?’ Victoria had been asking herself that question since the moment her father took his own life and now she had voiced it and steeled herself for the answer.

  ‘Oh, no, darling. He was in his own world. I had told him you were coming a dozen times, he was lost to us all.’

  *

  ‘Baker Hall is really done for now, isn’t it?’ Victoria said to Roland later, as they took a stroll around the now overgrown formal garden.

  ‘It is, my love, I’m afraid it is,’ he replied gently.

  Victoria began to cry again. ‘I’m sorry, I just feel a bit sad. My father was a lazy old goat, but I was born here, you know, in my parents’ bed. I feel as though we are doomed. Nothing my father or Aunt Minnie or the poor lost men in our family could have done, really. We are all powerless. If Hitler hadn’t got us, the taxes would. How much are the death duties?’ Victoria knew this particular sword had been hanging over her father’s head since her grandfather had died.

  ‘They want eighty per cent of the value of the estate.’ Roland saw no point in holding anything back. She had to know. ‘There has been no interest in the house itself.’ He took a deep breath before he imparted the next news and reached out to take her hand. ‘They are sending the bulldozers in. The house is to be demolished.’

  ‘Demolished?’ She stared at Roland in disbelief. ‘Demolished?’ she said again. ‘Oh, don’t misunderstand me, none of us should live here. It’s over. Time to end the era. I think it’s just sad that the house is to be demolished.’ She shook her head. Roland could see that the news was proving difficult for his capable and competent Victoria to absorb.

  ‘The contents, the cottages and the farms will raise enough money to appease the tax man – in fact there will now be some left over – but no one in this day and age wants to buy a house this large,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I know that. That awful friend of Aunt Minnie’s who came up from London for the funeral, do you know what she said to me?’ Roland shook his head. ‘She said, “Darling, you must not feel bad. I read in Country Life that they are demolishing a grand house a week.” I just didn’t think that Baker Hall would be one of them.’

  *

  Later that evening, when Aunt Minnie had returned to the dower house, Roland and Victoria sat on the sofa and drank the last of the brandy.

  ‘If we drink it, it can’t be sold,’ she said, emptying the decanter into their glasses. She had cried all the tears she was going to. She wondered how many nights her father had spent on the same sofa, looking into the same glass, drinking the same brandy, asking himself what on earth he was going to do. How lonely must he have felt? How lost?

  ‘Take a good look round,’ she went on, slightly tipsy. ‘Baker Hall won’t even be standing soon, nothing but a pile of bricks and rubble.’ She waved her glass in the air. ‘Do you know what the really sad thing is? There’s no one left, other than Hudson and ourselves, to care.’

  Victoria was unused to brandy. She began to choke. ‘Oh, Lord, I shouldn’t really drink this,’ she said.

  Roland patted her between the shoulders and then, as it so often did, his hand rested in the small of her back, to comfort her. More used to brandy than Victoria, he was also feeling a little drunk. His inhibitions vanished. Filled with longing for the girl at his side, he slipped to the floor and balanced on one knee.

  ‘Lady Victoria Baker, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  Victoria sobered up in seconds. ‘But, Roland, I’m a nurse now and I want to finish my training. They say that great advances are to be made as the NHS becomes more established. It’s changed people’s lives, you know, and with the advances in antibiotics and tuberculosis therapy, it’s going to become even bigger.’

  Victoria was quoting almost verbatim from the poster on the notice board in Lovely Lane. Roland could not quite believe what he was hearing. ‘Victoria, have you read that somewhere?’ he asked. ‘And is that a yes or a no?’

  ‘It’s a yes, Roland, but you’ll have to wait until I have sat my finals. I have to see this through, and then we can marry.’

  Roland got back on to the sofa. ‘Come here,’ he said, and kissed her with a passion that took her by surprise. He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Now that we are engaged, and I know you are mine, I can wait until you have sat your finals.’

  ‘The time will fly by,’ said Victoria.

  ‘Do I have to wait for absolutely everything that marriage will bring?’ he whispered into her hair. Vi
ctoria blushed furiously and buried her face in his chest.

  ‘I was rather hoping not,’ she whispered with an audacity she never knew she possessed.

  It was all Roland needed. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room and to the carved four-poster bed with the brown label hanging off the post. What they were doing felt right and natural to Victoria. Generations of Baker women before her had done the very same. But she would be the last in Baker Hall.

  Chapter twenty

  The Lovely Lane nurses were surprised to see Emily Haycock hurrying down the path for her second visit in less than an hour. It was immediately apparent by the expression on her face that all was not well.

  ‘I won’t beat about the bush, nurses,’ she said as she entered the room. ‘We have had some dreadful news, I’m afraid.’ Mrs Duffy moved towards the television, ready to turn it off. ‘Nurse Baker has had some very bad news. She will not be returning to Lovely Lane on Sunday as we expected. Her father has died, rather suddenly.’ No sooner had she spoken than the news headline flashed up on the television screen behind her. Lord Baker of historic Baker Hall in Lancashire has today taken his life using his own shotgun.

  Mrs Duffy stopped in her tracks as she stared at the television, waiting for the broadcaster to continue. Her hand hovered over the on-off dial as Emily said, ‘Well, I suppose we will hear all the details now.’

  A photograph of Victoria’s parents taken on their wedding day appeared on the screen, followed by a picture of Victoria in her coming-out gown. There was a sharp intake of breath from the girls. They had all known Victoria was the daughter of a lord and that she lived in a grand house – after all, there was a photograph of Baker Hall on the mirror in her room – but until this moment not one of them had realized quite how grand their Victoria of Lovely Lane was.

  ‘Will she be coming back?’ Pammy was the first to speak up when they had finished listening to the news.

  ‘We hope so. She is a very good nurse and St Angelus will be the worse without her, but obviously, that was not mentioned in the telephone call. I imagine she’ll call again in a week or so. Nurse Tanner, can I ask a very big favour of you?’ Emily would never have imagined herself doing this, but Pammy had survived ward two and knew Sister Antrobus and all her ways and foibles. Tomorrow was the first day of the new placements and Emily was a dozen student nurses short. September was a favourite month for nursing holidays. Nurse Baker was one of a number to have taken two weeks’ annual leave and one Emily hadn’t known about until Matron had informed her. No matter what, Sister Antrobus would complain if she were a nurse down and Emily knew that somehow it would reflect on her. She needed someone to cover for Nurse Baker for a week or so. She couldn’t use one of the third-year nurses; it would be too much to ask on top of their finals. Celia Forsyth had been her first choice, but she was about to go on two weeks’ leave herself. Pammy was tough. She had survived once, she would survive again. She saw the look of dismay, quickly followed by pride, when she asked Pammy to cover.

  ‘Of course I will,’ Pammy replied. ‘I’d do anything for Victoria, and I know she would do the same for me.’

  ‘Bless you, Nurse Tanner. I know it is a lot to ask, but I immediately thought of you. I have every confidence you will be fine. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am.’

  As Emily left the house, she noticed a young man darting across the road from the nurses’ home towards the trees. Well, that’s very funny, she thought. She remembered seeing the same young man months earlier, and the reason she had noticed him then was because of his suspicious behaviour. She went back inside to seek out Mrs Duffy.

  ‘Have you noticed a young man hanging around outside?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, do you know, there was someone, but it was a while ago now. He disappeared. Is he back?’

  ‘It looks like it. Don’t say anything to the girls, but I think I will mention it to Dessie, see what he thinks.’

  ‘Well, tell him to be sure he pops in to see me,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘He loves my Scotch pancakes.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t miss them,’ said Emily, grinning. As she walked down the steps, she noticed that the scruffy young man had disappeared, again.

  Chapter twenty-one

  The dining room was uncommonly quiet as the girls ate their breakfast. They were stunned by the news of the previous evening. Even Celia Forsyth had so far refrained from providing her usual waspish sarcasm.

  Pammy dashed in with her cape on. ‘Has anyone seen Dana this morning?’ She studied her reflection in the mirror hanging over the fireplace, balancing precariously on tiptoes on the stone surround of the hearth so that she could stretch up to see herself. ‘This mirror was definitely put up by a man,’ she complained.

  Mrs Duffy came in from the kitchen carrying a plate piled high with warm buttered toast, and Pammy turned from the mirror to sit down in one of the empty seats next to Beth. She had noticed a change in the other girl over recent weeks, ever since the night Celia had snapped at Mrs Duffy, and now she smiled at her as she helped herself to a slice of toast from the plate. ‘Are you all right, Beth?’ she asked. ‘You are on paediatrics for your new placement, aren’t you?’

  Beth looked grateful that Pammy was speaking to her. She knew that the girls had lost faith in her as a result of her friendship with Celia. The fact was, Beth had assumed that Celia was like her. She was wrong. Celia’s manner was as efficient as hers, but her nature was unkind.

  ‘I am. I have studied all I can before I start. I like children, when they behave, so that should help.’

  Pammy grinned. ‘Lovely,’ she said. ‘You should be all right then. Unlike me, having to face the Anteater again.’

  Beth felt slightly disappointed that she hadn’t been asked to cover for Victoria, but she also knew that no amount of study could prepare anyone to survive Sister Antrobus. She secretly admired Pammy for her forthright manner and immense gumption.

  ‘Pass the cornflakes,’ snapped Celia, who had been sitting at the table for the past five minutes and was ready for a second helping. ‘My father has sent a car to collect me and I have to hurry.’ Just at that moment, Lizzie arrived in the room. She reached over and grabbed the packet of cornflakes from the table and out of Celia’s reach.

  ‘Say please,’ she said, with as much menace as she could inject into her ordinarily gentle voice. ‘Some of us haven’t had our first bowl yet, so just wait.’

  Celia helped herself to a piece of toast from the tower on the plate in the middle of the table and glared at Lizzie.

  ‘I’ll walk up with you, Pammy.’ Dana stood in the doorway, with an envelope in her hand. ‘I’ve written a letter to Victoria, everyone; I hope you don’t mind. I said that it’s from all of us. I told her we were all sorry for her troubles and that we were thinking of her, and wished we could all give her a hug. She’s been a good friend to me has Victoria.’

  ‘Well done you, Nurse Brogan,’ said Lizzie. ‘I had the same thought myself this morning. You’ve beaten me to it.’

  Pammy stood and stretched to pin her cap in the mirror. ‘I walked back down from the hospital last night with two of the doctors. They told me they’re planning a dance in the new hospital social club. It has an official opening night six weeks from now. I’m all for that. I told them it would be a full house from Lovely Lane.’

  Just then they all heard the front door shut and a car door slam, and looking out of the window saw Celia Forsyth being driven away.

  ‘Would you look at that,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘Not so much as a by your leave. I hadn’t even noticed she had left the table.’

  ‘Well, almost a full house,’ Pammy muttered under her breath.

  ‘You do know that if you are seen talking to men in the street, doctors or not, you will have Matron to answer to, don’t you?’ said Mrs Duffy.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Duffy, what harm can it do? We were only planning a little dance.’

  ‘I’m going into the kitchen now. I
can’t be hearing this. Poor Nurse Baker. She’s all I can think about at the moment, not doctors and dances. She must be out of her mind with the shock.’

  Dana stood next to Pammy at the fireplace as she ate her toast and fixed her own hair. As Mrs Duffy walked past, they exchanged a sympathetic glance in the mirror.

  ‘Would you wait for me tonight?’ Pammy whispered. ‘I told the doctors I would walk down with them again. I’m dead keen for this dance to happen, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not on your life, thank you very much,’ Dana replied. ‘I’ve had my fill of doctors and that’s a fact. They all think too much of themselves as far as I’m concerned.’

  Pammy didn’t know the full story. Victoria had been a good friend to Dana and kept the details of the broken date to herself, and Pammy knew better than to push the subject any further. She put Dana’s antagonism down to the fact that she was a farm girl from Ireland and probably not very experienced at conversing with men, doctors or not. Neither was Pammy, come to that, but she wasn’t quite as hostile to the idea as Dana appeared to be.

  She checked once more that her cap was straight. ‘God, I wish I could wear me lippy on the wards,’ she said. ‘I feel washed out without it. Let’s hope our hats survive the breeze today.’

  Pammy had no way of knowing that Dana’s moodiness this morning wasn’t anything to do with doctors, or even with Celia Forsyth. She had received a letter from home which she had read quickly. The contents made her blood run cold.

  Patrick is working on the roads in Liverpool, her mammy had written. He came home for the harvest, but has gone back again. Daddy says that men are earning a hundred pounds a day laying the new roads in England.