The Forgotten Children

by Anita Davison

  Bunny let out a throaty laugh, in which Flora and Miss Finch joined with the easy abandon of old friends, their merriment interrupted by the return of Sister Lazarus with a loaded tray.

  ‘I’m sorry I took so long, Miss Finch.’ She split a baleful look between them as if suspecting their laughter was directed at her. ‘A valve stuck on the boiler and I couldn’t get the pilot lit.’ She plonked overfull cups of murky brown liquid haphazardly on the desktop, making the china clatter.

  ‘Er–thank you, Sister.’ Miss Finch jerked back her chin, and Flora raised her hand to hide a smile.

  Sister Lazarus glared at each of them again before she pulled the door shut behind her with a resounding bang.

  ‘Is she a good nurse?’ Flora asked, mainly to fill an awkward silence at the woman’s departure. A line of wet footprints on the polished floorboards. The kitchen must be in another building and if a trip outside in the rain had been necessary, no wonder the nurse looked bad-tempered.

  ‘She’s efficient and a stickler for the rules.’ Miss Finch stirred sugar into her tea but did not meet Flora’s eye. ‘She tends to lack the warmth I find vital when dealing with children.’

  Flora took a tentative sip of the hot, if stewed tea and pondered on why a young woman would choose to work with children if she lacked compassion for them? It struck her as an odd choice of profession. But then she could not know what alternatives, if any, were open to Sister Lazarus.

  ‘Efficiency often makes up for certain weaknesses.’ Bunny peered into his cup, grimaced and set it down again without comment.

  ‘You’re probably right, Mr Harrington.’ Miss Finch smiled at him. ‘And I have no complaints about her.’

  Flora was about to set her own cup down when a piercing shriek made it leap in her hand, spilling the tea. ‘My goodness, what was that?’

  ‘It sounded as if it came from the rear yard.’ Miss Finch rose and opened the door, greeted by the sounds of running feet and a male shout.

  Flora exchanged a look with Bunny and, as if in silent accord, they followed the matron to the end of the hall, where a door stood open to a yard surrounded by a jumble of brick buildings.

  Miss Finch eased her way to the front of a crowd that had already gathered, issuing increasingly irritated, ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘let me through’s’ as the three of them pushed to the front of the crowd.

  A figure in the distinctive pink apron of a student nurse lay face up on the cobbles, her right arm bent gracefully at the elbow and her fingers slightly curled inwards, her left leg bent awkwardly behind her at the knee. A wide pool of blood had gathered beneath her head and had mingled with the rainwater that trickled red rivulets along the seams in the cobbles.

  ‘It’s Nurse Prentice.’ Flora inhaled sharply. ‘The one from Primrose Ward.’

  ‘Don’t look.’ Bunny pulled her into his side, shielding her, though his warning coming too late as she had already seen the worst and was unable to tear her gaze away.

  This was certainly not Flora’s first dead body, though the fact this one had been walking the halls less than an hour ago struck her as particularly shocking. The second time she had met Bunny was over a corpse lying on the deck of an Atlantic Liner and she had been surprisingly pragmatic even then. Her reaction now, as it had been then was not horror or disgust, but curiosity as to how they had come to be there – and why.

  Two doctors emerged from the main building, both in identical leather aprons bearing ominous stains Flora assumed to be dried blood. The younger one was Dr Reid, who instructed the curious onlookers to stand aside.

  Miss Finch bent and lifted the girl’s wrist, then laid it down again. ‘How did it happen?’ she demanded of the closest nurse, who shook her head but did not respond.

  ‘She weren’t here when I went to take me dinner,’ a man in overalls on the edge of the crowd said, peering over Miss Finch’s shoulder to get a better look.

  A wide-hipped female with a ruddy complexion shushed him, while gasps erupted from newly arrived spectators. Murmurings went up among the growing crowd and two student nurses comforted a third who had burst into noisy sobs.

  ‘Didn’t anyone see what happened?’ Miss Finch demanded, more firmly. ‘Who found her?’

  ‘I did, Matron.’ A man in coveralls carrying a hoe shuffled forward. ‘I came through the garden gate a few minutes ago, she was just lying there.’ He looked up as if inviting further comment, but met only blank stares and shaking heads.

  ‘Looks like she slipped on the wet and hit her head on the kerb there,’ Dr Reid pointed to one of the raised stones that formed a border enclosing the yard that bore streaks of blood on the edge.

  ‘Rubbish, man!’ The second doctor had squatted beside the body where he prodded the back of the girl’s skull with his fingers. ‘There’s a depressed fracture of the parietal bone. At a guess, I would say she was hit.’

  ‘Hit with what?’ Dr Reid lifted both his arms to indicate the plain concrete yard of about fourteen feet square that contained no more than a couple of rain barrels and a small wooden hut. ‘There’s nothing here. No, I’m pretty confident she must have simply tripped in the wet. Look at her shoes, the soles are thin and quite smooth.’

  ‘Whatever the cause,’ the senior doctor straightened, brushing droplets of water from his trousers, ‘I will investigate thoroughly when we get the body to the mortuary. Miss Finch, the police will have to be informed.’

  Nodding, Miss Finch issued instructions to the porter who had arrived at a run, before easing through the crowd to where Flora and Bunny stood. ‘I think it best if you both leave now before the police arrive.’

  ‘Don’t you want us to wait and talk to them?’ Flora chose not to mention it wouldn’t be the first time she had dealt with the police.

  ‘There’s no need. You cannot tell them any more than I can. I’ll deal with it. Come back to my office and wait there. I’ll ask the porter to order you a cab.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Bunny said. ‘I’ll flag one down on the road.’

  ‘You’re not likely to find one out on the street.’ Miss Finch’s raised eyebrow indicated amusement at this suggestion. ‘Cabbies don’t tend to wait around in this neighbourhood. Forbes will send a runner to fetch one for you.’

  She ushered them away from where the doctors’ voices were raised in emphatic argument, while gesturing to the crowd to go back inside the building, arms waving as if they directed traffic, and although most complied, some others took more persuading.

  In her office, Miss Finch restlessly paced the floor, her jaw clenched tight.

  ‘What a dreadful thing to happen.’ Flora closed her eyes and turned her head away, but an image of the young nurse’s head surrounded by blood appeared behind her eyelids. She blinked them open again and reached for the back of her chair, conscious that her hand shook.

  ‘Sit down, Flora,’ Bunny guided her into the seat. ‘You’ve had quite a shock.’

  ‘So have you. You’re quite grey.’ She offered him a weak smile that she transferred to Miss Finch, who now stood by the window, a clenched fist pressed to her mouth, deep in thought.

  ‘Do you think she fell, Miss Finch?’ Bunny asked. When she did not respond, he added, ‘If you need to be elsewhere, we quite understand.’ He remained standing, an elbow balanced on the mantelpiece. ‘Miss Finch?’ he prompted.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ She swung to face them with a start, her eyes clouded with inner thoughts. ‘I do beg your pardon, and no, of course I’ll remain here with you until the police arrive, you are my guests. I don’t know if she fell or not, we’ll have to wait for the post-mortem.’

  ‘Dr Reid and his colleague seemed to have differing opinions,’ Flora couldn’t help mentioning.

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t read anything into that.’ Miss Finch moved to her desk where she drummed its surface with restless fingers. ‘The doctors here tend to lock horns frequently. It’s their way of asserting themselves.’

  Flora could not
shake the feeling there was something very wrong about the scene they had just witnessed. At first sight everything seemed uncomplicated, if tragic. A young girl runs across a rain-drenched yard, slips and hits her head on a corner stone. In most cases it would result in little more than a sore head or momentary unconsciousness, but this nurse had died. She recalled the elderly doctor’s assertion that she might have been hit with something, and resolved to look up the term ‘parietal bone’ in their extensive library when she got home.

  ‘The safety of the students here is my responsibility.’ Miss Finch asserted. ‘It’s unacceptable such a young life should be wasted in that way.’

  ‘It was an accident, surely? You cannot be held responsible.’ Bunny’s brow furrowed as if he too sensed there was more to Miss Finch’s distress than she revealed.

  ‘I know, but—’ she plucked at the pages of an open ledger on the desk.

  ‘Wasn’t she the same nurse who asked to speak to you on the ward?’ Flora asked, convinced the same thought was running through Miss Finch’s head.

  Bunny’s eyebrows drew together and he gave a tiny shake of his head.

  Flora knew that look. It warned her not to ask awkward or leading questions. Not that she ever took any notice once her interest was piqued, as it was now.

  ‘Exactly.’ Miss Finch sighed. ‘Which makes me regret having dismissed her. Nurse Prentice, Lizzie, obviously had something on her mind.’

  ‘Something important enough to get her killed?’ Flora asked.

  ‘Flora,’ Bunny murmured through gritted teeth.

  Miss Finch seemed oblivious of their tense interaction, her own thoughts taking precedence. ‘One thing could be entirely unrelated to the other.’

  Before Flora could ask what she meant, the door was flung open again with such force, the metal knob banged against the wall, forcing Bunny to take a rapid sideways step to avoid being hit.

  ‘The police are here, Miss Finch,’ Sister Lazarus announced, her eyes flat and hard. ‘They wish to speak with you. Immediately.’ She emphasized the last word, her pointed chin lifted in confident superiority.

  ‘Already?’ Miss Finch pushed herself upright. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Forbes went to fetch them. A carriage had overturned on the corner of Marshalsea Road, so they were already close by.’

  ‘Are they in the yard now?’

  ‘Er–no. The body – I mean Nurse Prentice has been taken to the morgue, so they have gone there.’

  ‘She was moved?’ Miss Finch glared at the nurse with a mixture of annoyance and surprise. ‘Who presumed to give that instruction?’

  ‘I did.’ Sister Lazarus’ expression held no emotion. ‘I simply thought—’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Sister.’ The matron massaged her forehead with one hand. ‘The police need to see where Nurse Prentice died.’

  ‘I apologize.’ Sister Lazarus’ eyes held no regret. ‘Dr Reid said it was an accident. Anyway, it didn’t seem right to leave her lying there for everyone to stare at. It would have been… disrespectful.’ Though her bland expression did not reflect the sentiment.

  ‘I suppose there isn’t much we can do about it now.’ Miss Finch’s jaw clenched as she approached the door. ‘I’ll come and speak to the detective in charge of the case.’

  ‘There isn’t one.’ Sister Lazarus shrugged, her gaze sliding away when Miss Finch glared at her. ‘Only a sergeant and a couple of constables.’

  Miss Finch closed her eyes briefly but said nothing, as if she fought an urge to rail against not only the nurse’s incompetence but also that of the police.

  ‘We’re quite prepared to speak to them,’ Bunny offered, despite the fact he seemed quite rattled too.

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ Miss Finch’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the door, lowering her voice. ‘Mr Harrington, Mrs Harrington, I apologize for this dreadful turn of events.’ Her clear gaze shifted to Flora and held. ‘I hope we shall have the opportunity of meeting again. Perhaps at Martell’s Tea Room? I’m often to be found there on Thursday afternoons.’ With a final nod, she pulled the door shut behind her, leaving them alone with Sister Lazarus, who reloaded the tray with a sharp rattle of crockery.

  ‘Are you all right, Bunny? You’re quite pale.’ Flora gathered her gloves and bag as a prelude to leaving.

  ‘I think so.’ He nodded rapidly, his eyes clouded behind his spectacles. ‘It never occurred to me before that head wounds bled so much. That poor girl.’ Catching Flora’s eye, he issued a short, embarrassed laugh. ‘I forget you’re more used to seeing bodies than I am.’

  ‘The first is always the worst. That man who was killed on the SS Minneapolis still haunts me.’ She blew out a breath through pursed lips as a long-ago image intruded. Flora saw violent death as something to be fought, not lamented over. Rather than dwell on unpleasantness, she concentrated on the how and why. Belatedly she remembered they were not alone. ‘Was that poor girl a friend of yours, Sister Lazarus?’ Thus far, the woman had shot them occasional bland looks, but offered nothing to the conversation. Maybe her profession rendered her immune to such sights.

  ‘Nurse Prentice was a student, whereas I’m a qualified ward sister.’ She hefted the tray in both hands, a curl to her upper lip, implying Flora had suggested something untoward. ‘Fraternization is not conducive to discipline.’

  ‘My apologies, I didn’t realize such things were frowned upon.’ Flora inclined her head. Did she mean all students, or this one in particular?

  Bunny pretended to read a medical journal, though Flora suspected he listened keenly to the exchange.

  ‘Was she good at her job?’ Flora asked, adding, ‘I assume nursing doesn’t suit everyone.’

  ‘Indeed. Nurse Prentice was barely competent and tended to gossip,’ Sister Lazarus replied grudgingly. ‘I had to reprimand her on several occasions. Miss Finch can be an excellent administrator but tends to be lenient where the students’ behaviour is concerned.’

  ‘I see.’ Flora concentrated on buttoning her gloves, having learned from experience that to retain eye contact often stifled confidences. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t drink your tea after all the trouble you went to.’ Flora experienced the odd sensation she was being judged by a critical headmistress. A ridiculous notion as, having been educated in the schoolroom at Cleeve Abbey with her employer’s daughters, she had never in her life attended school. The only headmistress she had ever met had turned out to be a murderous spy. Or perhaps it was the severe black uniform that made this woman look menacing?

  ‘It’s no bother. The staff kitchen is only along the hall.’ She planted her feet in front of the door. ‘I’d better go. The police will probably wish to talk to me.’ She aimed a look at the door, then swung her gaze pointedly back to Flora.

  She considered standing her ground but it seemed hardly worth it, so she stepped aside.

  The porter stood outside, his hand raised to knock. Sister Lazarus glared at him and he backed away, both hands upraised as he waited for her to pass. ‘Your hackney is here, sir, madam,’ he said, as Sister Lazarus’ brisk footsteps receded along the hall.

  ‘Are you sure we should leave?’ Flora asked as she and Bunny made their way to the front entrance moments later.

  ‘Normally, no, but we neither knew the victim nor did we see the accident. Therefore Miss Finch might have a point. Discretion is the better part of valour in this instance.’

  ‘I’ve never subscribed to the premise of that saying. Being discreet means you ignore everything and thus miss all the most interesting events in life.’

  ‘I doubt there’s anything interesting in this case.’ Bunny handed Flora into a hansom that waited on the front drive. ‘It was simply an unfortunate accident.’

  Flora adjusted her skirt over her knees, her attention caught by a hackney cab that had drawn up beside them. As Bunny climbed in beside her, the driver of the other cab flicked the rein and pulled away.

  ‘That man in the ha
ckney that has just left, I think it was Mr Buchanan. The man Miss Finch introduced to us.’

  ‘I cannot see him now he’s gone,’ he relaxed against the wooden seat. ‘But I’ll take your word for it.’ Bunny knocked on the trap above their heads and gave their address to the driver, who closed the flaps over their knees with the handle.

  The hansom jerked forward, pausing at the gates for a carter to pass, by which time the other cab was out of sight.

  ‘I’m sure it was him, though didn’t he say he was in a hurry to keep an appointment over an hour ago?’ Flora asked.

  ‘I believe he did, yes. Funny that, I’m sure I saw him in the crowd around the body of the nurse when Miss Finch suggested we leave.’

  ‘Did you?’ Flora turned her head and stared at him. ‘How odd.’

  ‘Not really. Perhaps his “I have somewhere to be” was simply an excuse not to have to stand around in corridors making polite talk.’

  ‘Possibly. But with a death among the staff, wouldn’t he have stayed to establish what had happened?’ Bunny started to say something but Flora continued, ‘And did you notice that Sister Lazarus’ skirt and shoes were wet when she brought in the tea? Not all of it, just a few inches of the hem at the front. If the staff kitchen was only a few doors from Miss Finch’s office, why did she need to go outside?’

  ‘Give me a chance to answer one of those questions.’ He held a hand towards her, palm outwards. ‘The going outside part could be because she needed to fetch a handyman to fix the pilot light on the boiler.’ Bunny braced his other hand against the door frame as the taxi took a sharp corner. ‘Also, it had been raining earlier.’

  ‘I had forgotten about the boiler.’ Flora slumped against the upholstery, mildly disappointed there was such a simple explanation. ‘She’s a strange, cold sort of person though, didn’t you find? For a nurse.’

  ‘Sister Lazarus? I imagine it’s necessary for survival in that profession. High emotions must be counterproductive with what they must see every day. Especially where children are concerned.’