No, that wasn’t quite true. All she really wanted to do was to see Finn Slater.
She passed around the back of the church hall and looked over in the direction of the sexton’s cottage. There was a light burning in the window. Polly fought the overwhelming urge to go up and knock on the door. She was desperate to see him, but nervous of what might happen if she did.
Instead, she followed the path down to the gate, picking her way carefully between the headstones by the cold, silvery light of the moon. The cold wind whipped around her, moaning through the bare trees. It didn’t occur to her to be afraid. She had spent so long here at Frank’s grave, it felt almost like home.
And then a sound in the bushes behind her made her tense with fear. Something was out there …
She swung round, just as a large, dark shape emerged from the undergrowth. Polly felt weak with relief as she found herself looking at a pair of bright eyes and a happily lolling tongue.
‘Job!’ Her voice sounded loud in the darkness. ‘Goodness, you gave me a scare!’ She put out her hand to him. ‘What are you doing out here on your own?’
‘Looking for rabbits, if I know him.’
Polly looked up sharply as Finn strode towards her. She could scarcely make out his tall, broad-shouldered outline in the moonlight.
He clicked his fingers and Job trotted to his side. ‘He got out while I wasn’t looking,’ he said. ‘You’re a terror, in’t you, lad? One of these days that curate’s going to catch you wandering about on your own, and then there’ll be no helping you.’
Polly stared at Finn, suddenly tongue-tied with nerves. He was standing a distance away, not even looking at her, and yet her skin tingled with awareness of him.
He raised his gaze to meet hers. ‘You didn’t go dancing, then?’
She shook her head. ‘I had an emergency call.’
‘That’s a shame.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m sure there will be other dances.’ She gazed at him in the darkness. ‘How about you? Didn’t you want to go?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Me? Go dancing?’
‘Why not?’
Finn shook his head. ‘I wasn’t really one for dancing, even before—’ he broke off. ‘Besides, I don’t think your friend the curate would care for my company.’
No, but I would. The words hovered, unspoken, on the tip of her tongue. Polly knew that if she admitted her feelings she would be unleashing something she wouldn’t be able to control. ‘I – I’d better go,’ she murmured instead.
She started down the path, but Finn called after her, ‘I thought you wanted to dance, Polly Malone?’
She stopped and turned to face him. ‘Dance?’ she echoed. ‘What you mean – now? Out here?’
‘Why not?’ There was a glint of daring in his eyes.
She held back. ‘I thought you weren’t one for dancing?’
‘Depends on the partner, doesn’t it?’ he said softly.
He held out his arms to her.
Polly took a step towards him and hesitated. ‘We haven’t got any music.’
‘Who needs music?’ He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. Pressed against the warmth of his body, her ribcage felt suddenly too tight, making it hard for her to breathe. She could hear the insistent drumbeat of Finn’s heart, smell the male scent of him. His face was only inches above hers. If she just looked up for a moment …
She pulled away, turning her back on him. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
‘Why? Don’t you like me?’
The notion was so absurd, she couldn’t help smiling in the darkness. ‘You know I do,’ she said. ‘But I made a promise …’
‘To Frank?’
She shook her head. ‘To my mother.’
‘Your mother?’ She heard the disbelief in Finn’s voice.
‘I told you how things were with her when I went off with Frank.’ She and Finn had shared so many stories about their pasts over the last few days. Since Polly now knew his secrets, she’d felt it only right that he should know hers. ‘I’m only just starting to make things right with her again.’ She thought of this evening and the way they had laughed together, both caught off guard. It was only a tiny step, but at least it was a start. ‘It’s taken me so long to win her trust, I daren’t make another mistake.’
‘Is that what I am to you? A mistake?’ Finn’s voice was cold.
She swung round to face him at last. He towered over her in the darkness, tall and powerful, the silvery moonlight casting shadows over the planes and angles of his face. He looked like a statue carved in silver.
No, she wanted to say. No, you’re not a mistake. You must never, ever think of yourself that way.
But when she looked at him, saw the dark glitter of desire in his eyes, he seemed like the devil himself, leading her into temptation.
She was on the brink of a precipice, about to step over the edge. One step, one kiss, and she could lose everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
She knew she should walk away, step back from the edge of the abyss, follow the path she had made for herself, back to her mother. But still she couldn’t drag her gaze away from his face, his eyes, the shadows falling on the hollows of his cheeks, the shape of his mouth … Anticipation sizzled through her like a hot wire, right to the core of her being.
‘Yes,’ whispered Polly. ‘You’re a very big mistake.’
And then he smiled, and bent his head, and the next moment Finn was kissing her. His mouth was gentle at first, his lips brushing hers, but then harder, more insistent. His strong hands closed on her shoulders, forcing her gently backwards until she felt the roughness of a tree trunk pressing into her back. Her arms went up, twining around his neck as she felt herself tumbling down into the abyss …
Job’s loud bark startled them and they broke apart. Finn was instantly tense, looking over his shoulder into the darkness.
‘Quiet, lad!’ he said. But Job let out a low growl, his head lowered. In the moonlight Polly could see the menacing glint of his bared teeth.
‘I think he’s seen something,’ she whispered.
Finn moved away from her, stepping fearlessly into the darkness. ‘Who is it?’ he called out. ‘Who’s there? Show yourself!’ His words echoed around the silent churchyard.
‘Perhaps he found a rabbit after all?’ Polly said.
Matthew Elliott watched from the shadows, bitterness running like acid through his veins. He could feel his temples throbbing and his hand tightened into a fist on his stick.
How could she? How could Polly choose that low beast over him? He’d warned her. He’d told her what a monster Finn Slater was, and yet there she was, kissing him.
It disgusted him to watch them, pawing at each other like animals. But at the same time he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away.
It should have been him, he thought. He’d planned all this so carefully. This dance had all been for Polly’s benefit. It had taken a long time to persuade the vicar that it would be a good idea. Matthew had said it was to raise funds for the church roof, but really he had done it all for her.
And yet she could hardly bring herself to look at him.
Matthew was sweating in spite of the chill of the night. He wanted to take his stick and beat Finn with it until he was lying on the ground, broken and bloodied. He ground his teeth together at the thought of it, the satisfaction of hearing his rival beg for mercy …
He could do it too. People might look at him now and see a mild-mannered clergyman, but before he’d joined the church he had been just like Finn, every bit as capable of inflicting harm on another man. Hadn’t he fought for his country while Finn Slater was languishing in jail? And he had the scars to prove it.
And now Finn had taken Polly from him. It wasn’t her fault, Matthew knew that. She was innocent in all this, led astray by that devil.
She had to be protected. This couldn’t be allowed to happen. Matthew would look after her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cedar House
Steeple Street
Leeds
10th November 1925
Dear Mother,
How are you? It’s been such a long time since I’ve heard from you. I wonder if you’ve received my last four letters?
Things are still going well for me here at the district nurses’ home. As I already told you, I have my own set of patients now to visit on a regular basis. I’m still getting used to the various backstreets of Quarry Hill, and some of the people I meet are most peculiar (I really don’t know what you’d make of them!), but I think we’re beginning to understand each other.
One of my patients, Mrs Franklin, was recently admitted to hospital with a duodenal ulcer. I happened to see her husband yesterday morning as I was passing his corner shop. He came out to wish me good morning and to tell me his wife was recovering well. He was so overcome with gratitude, poor man, he made me a promise that if there was anything he could do for me, then I had only to ask.
And then I had an idea. One of my other patients, Mr Willis, lost his job recently, and his family is struggling to cope. So I suggested to Mr Franklin that, as a favour to me, he might think about cancelling the debt Mrs Willis has run up in his shop. And he agreed! Quite readily, in fact. Between you and me, I think he has been worrying about them too, and looking for a way to help them.
Anyway, I can’t wait for Mrs Willis to hear the good news. I imagine it will be quite a weight off her mind. I’m so pleased I’ve been able to help her, even in a small way.
I think you and Father would be very proud of what I’m doing here. I really am trying to fit in and to make the best of my situation, as you suggested I should.
Have you thought any more about me coming to visit you? I would dearly love to see you all again, and spend time with you, and meet my new niece (I’m sorry, I don’t even know her name yet!). Please write back to me as soon as you can. I am longing to hear all your news.
Your loving daughter,
Agnes
She scanned the letter, trying to imagine how her mother might feel when she read it.
If she read it. Her mother had still not replied to any of the previous letters, not even a note to tell her to stop writing. Agnes had a picture lurking in the back of her mind of her mother throwing the unopened letters on to the fire, jabbing at them with a poker to make sure the flames consumed every last scrap …
She pushed the thought away. Of course her mother would read her letters. And hopefully she would be proud that Agnes was doing so well. Elizabeth Sheridan had always taken such pleasure in her daughter’s achievements in the past.
Agnes read through the letter again. She hoped she didn’t sound like she was showing off, talking about what she had done for the Willis family. She hadn’t meant it that way, but she was pleased to be able to help.
And now she was hoping to help another of her patients, though the thought of it filled her with trepidation.
Agnes couldn’t stop thinking about Christine Fairbrass. It had been nearly a month since she’d last seen the girl, but the image of her shocked face that day in the school medical room still haunted Agnes. If she was right about Christine’s condition then the poor girl must be beside herself with terror.
Agnes hadn’t had the chance to talk to Christine again, as Lil and her family were still on Bess Bradshaw’s list. But today Miss Gale was meeting the District Association and her assistant had to deputise for her at the Miners’ Welfare meeting. So Agnes had to add Bess’ list of calls to her own.
And as fate would have it, Lil Fairbrass’ father was on her list for that afternoon.
It was a cold, windy Monday afternoon, and Lil was hanging out bed sheets on the line strung across the yard when Agnes arrived. They flapped about wetly, like giant sails, and it was all Lil could do to fight them into place.
She barely nodded at Agnes when she arrived.
‘Where’s t’nurse?’ she asked, through a mouthful of clothes pegs.
Agnes pasted a smile on her face. ‘Mrs Bradshaw is away today, so I’ve come in her place,’ she explained as patiently as she could manage.
Lil eyed her dubiously. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘I’m quite sure, Mrs Fairbrass.’ Agnes gripped the handle of her bag to stop herself from swinging it in rage.
‘Aye, well, I s’pose t’nurse wouldn’t send you otherwise.’ Lil jerked her head in the direction of the cottage. ‘You’d best go in and see the old man.’
‘Is he upstairs?’ Agnes asked.
‘He’s where t’nurse left him last time she came. In’t been out of bed except to use the pot!’
Lil’s father Wally Hollins was an ex-miner in his late sixties. A lifetime spent working as a miner had all but destroyed his lungs, leaving him with bronchiectasis. His face was drawn, his body wasted due to the absorption of toxins into his system. But considering how gravely ill he was, he had a strangely cheerful nature. He made no bones about the fact he didn’t have long to live.
‘Hello, nurse,’ he greeted Agnes. ‘Has that lass of mine been giving you an ’ard time? Take no notice of her, love. She takes after her mother, God rest her soul. She were always looking for a fight an’ all.’
‘How are you feeling, Mr Hollins?’ Agnes asked, scanning the notes the doctor had left.
‘Oh, champion, thank you. T’other nurse has had me hanging upside down like a bat!’ He looked pleased with himself.
Agnes smiled. ‘It’s called postural drainage, Mr Hollins. To help clear your lungs.’
‘Oh, aye, it’s done that, all right. Been coughing up some right muck, I have. I had Lil keep it in that mug over there to show you.’
‘Thank you, that’s very – helpful.’ Agnes eyed the mug on the mantelpiece dubiously.
‘Will I be hanging upside down again today?’ Wally asked hopefully.
‘I’m afraid not. But the doctor has left instructions for you to have a creosote inhalation instead. That will be all right, won’t it?’
‘Aye, you carry on, love. I know nothing you do will make a blind bit of difference to me living longer, but it’ll help pass the time, won’t it?’ He grinned at her, showing off a mouth full of broken teeth.
He chatted happily while Agnes set up the steam tent around his bed using two large sheets and a clothes horse, pausing only when he was seized by one of his lengthy coughing fits.
‘The way I see it is once your time’s up, it’s up,’ he said. ‘And if you ask me, my time will be up sooner rather than later. Not that I mind, I’ve had a right good innings. Even if I did have to spend most of it stuck under the ground. Mind you,’ he added, ‘at least I’ll feel at home when they put me back there!’ He laughed, which then turned into another paroxysm of coughing.
While he was inside the steam tent, Agnes stood at the window, looking down at the yard below. Lil was still hanging out her washing, but as Agnes watched, Christine came into the yard, carrying a satchel over her shoulder. She wore a heavy coat over her school uniform, so it was impossible to make out her shape. But as she stopped to talk to her mother, the wind suddenly snatched at her coat, blowing it aside and flattening her pinafore against her, and even from above, Agnes could make out the definite curve of her belly.
So I was right, she thought grimly. The thought gave her no pleasure.
By the time her mother turned to her, Christine had pulled her coat back round herself, hiding her body. But she couldn’t hide it for ever, Agnes thought.
How could her mother not see it? wondered the nurse. Perhaps it was because Lil wasn’t looking. If she believed her daughter was a good girl, devoted to her studies, then it probably wouldn’t occur to her to look for tell-tale signs.
But even good girls could make a mistake.
‘Excuse me, nurse?’ Wally Hollins croaked from behind the makeshift curtain. ‘I reckon I’m just about cooked now, if you don’t mind?’
Agnes checked her watch and was shocked to find she ha
d been standing at the window, deep in thought, for far longer than she’d meant to be. ‘Yes, of course, Mr Hollins. Let me get you out of there.’
‘Thank you, nurse. I thought for a minute you’d left me to steam in here like a suet puddin’!’ He smiled gratefully up at her as she unpinned the sheet curtain and dismantled the apparatus.
Lil was at the stove in the kitchen by the time Agnes came downstairs.
‘All finished?’ she grunted over her shoulder.
‘Yes, thank you.’ There was an awkward silence as they stood shoulder to shoulder so Agnes could wash her hands at the sink. ‘He seems in very high spirits,’ she commented.
‘Aye, he always is, the cheerful old bugger. Right gets on my nerves sometimes.’ Lil shook her head. ‘You’ll be wanting your money,’ she said. ‘It’s there, on the mantelpiece.’
‘Thank you.’ Agnes dried her hands on her towel, then slipped it back into the pocket of her bag.
As she collected the coins and made a note of them in her payment book, she said, ‘Where’s Christine?’
‘Gone to the library. Why?’
‘I just wanted to see her, that’s all. I’ve been wondering about her, since she was taken ill at school that day.’
Lil paused, frowning. ‘That were a long time ago. I wonder you remember it.’
‘How has she been since?’
Lil shrugged. ‘Right as ninepence, I’d say. She was poorly for a while, but it’s passed now. I put it down to all that studying,’ she said.
‘Do you?’
Lil must have noticed the tone of her voice, because she turned to face Agnes, her eyes narrowing. ‘Why? What else could it be?’
Agnes hesitated. She remembered one of Bess’ very first warnings to her.
You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Lil Fairbrass.
But surely she wasn’t doing anything wrong? All she was doing was telling a mother what was going on. She would want to know …
Lil was staring at her. ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Spit it out, if you’ve got summat to say.’
Agnes slipped the payment book back into her bag and took a deep breath.
The Nurses of Steeple Street Page 19