‘Keep quiet, both of you!’ she snapped. ‘Our guests will hear you, and I think we’ve given them quite enough to talk about for today!’
‘It’s her fault,’ Vanessa muttered darkly. ‘I told her not to disturb Grace, but she came in here, poking around where she’s not wanted.’ She sent Agnes a baleful stare.
‘I wanted to see my room,’ Agnes protested. ‘Or at least, what used to be my room,’ she added.
Her mother had the grace to look guilty. ‘We were just being practical,’ she said, not meeting her daughter’s eye. ‘We needed a room for the baby when she comes to visit, and since you weren’t using it …’
‘How did you know I wouldn’t be using it? How did you know I wouldn’t be coming home? You said I could come home …’
‘Yes, but we didn’t expect you’d just appear out of nowhere, did we?’ her mother snapped. ‘Anyway, there’s no need to be so childish about it. We’ve kept all your belongings quite safe. They’re packed up in boxes in the attic, if you want them.’
Agnes looked around the room. She had been packed away, every trace of her removed from this house and their lives. Gone and forgotten.
‘Anyway, why on earth would you want to come home?’ her mother continued. ‘It’s not as if you can pick up your old life, is it? They’d hardly want you back at the Nightingale, not after everything that happened. And besides, we’ve told everyone you’re living up in Yorkshire now. There would be too many awkward questions if you came back. You heard the Pearsons. Everyone would be far too curious.’
‘That wouldn’t do, would it?’ Agnes couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. ‘We couldn’t have anyone asking awkward questions, nothing that might embarrass the family.’
‘I think you’ve embarrassed us more than enough, don’t you?’
Agnes faltered at her mother’s sharp tone. Elizabeth Sheridan’s beautiful face was twisted with resentment. ‘Do you really want to put us through even more than you have already? You’ve nearly cost this family its good name once already.’
‘Is that all that’s important to you … your good name?’
Her mother lifted her chin. ‘You may mock, Agnes, but your father is an important man in this community. As a doctor, people look up to him, respect him. If word had got out about your … condition,’ she suppressed a shudder, ‘I dread to think what a terrible scandal it would have caused.’
‘Is that why you sent me away?’
Her mother lowered her gaze. ‘I did what was best for the family.’
‘And what about me? How do you think I felt, being packed off to live in – in that place?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Why do you have to be so melodramatic? We didn’t send you to the workhouse, Agnes. St Jude’s has an excellent reputation for looking after girls in your – situation.’ Again, her slim shoulders shuddered delicately.
‘Pregnant girls, you mean? It’s all right, Mother, you can say it. Pregnant girls with no husbands, who are an embarrassment to their families. Those are the kind of girls who end up at St Jude’s. And don’t the nuns punish them for their sins!’
It haunted Agnes’ dreams, even now. Sometimes she would wake up in terror, thinking she was still on her knees scrubbing the kitchen, or in the sweltering laundry, pounding away at washing in a dolly tub until her back ached and her hands were raw and bleeding.
‘I’ll never forget their cruelty,’ she said. ‘Did you know that they beat us? I’ve seen girls dragged across the room by their hair for nothing more than being late for chapel. One girl even had her skull fractured. Matron told her parents she’d fallen down the stairs, but we all knew better.’
‘I’m sure you must be exaggerating,’ her mother muttered, her gaze fixed on the floor.
‘You didn’t see it, Mother. You weren’t there!’ Agnes shook her head. ‘I wanted you, but you weren’t there,’ she whispered sadly.
Elizabeth flinched. ‘What else could we do? It was a difficult situation for all of us …’
‘Difficult for you? You weren’t the one who cried herself to sleep every night because she was so scared of what was happening to her. I needed you, Mother. I needed my family around me!’
‘You had a choice,’ her mother rallied. ‘You could have married Daniel. You were already engaged, everything was planned. You could have had a quiet, discreet wedding, and all this could have been avoided. But no, you had to do it your way. You decided you had to ruin everything by breaking it off with him.’
‘I didn’t love him,’ Agnes said. ‘It wouldn’t have been right.’
Vanessa laughed harshly. ‘And you think being unmarried and pregnant is right? How dare you come here, telling us your wretched stories and trying to make us all feel guilty, when you were the one who brought shame on us all in the first place!’
‘Is everything all right up there?’ her father’s voice drifted up the stairs. ‘We’re getting worried about you!’
‘We’ll be down in a minute,’ her mother called back in the trilling tone she always used in company. ‘We’re just having a little chat … baby talk, you know.’
‘Baby talk!’ Agnes laughed at the irony. ‘If only they knew.’
Her mother sighed. ‘Is that what you want, Agnes? To tell everyone your secret?’
‘No.’
‘Then what do you want? Why exactly have you come here?’
Agnes swallowed hard. ‘I want to come home.’
‘You can’t!’ Vanessa put in.
‘Is that what you really want?’ Her mother’s gaze was steady, her blue eyes cool. ‘Because if it is, then I’m not going to stop you.’
‘Mother!’ Vanessa gasped, but her mother held up her hand, silencing her.
‘Agnes is right, Vanessa. This is still her home. And if after everything she’s done, and everything that’s happened, she still feels she wants to come back regardless of the consequences, then that is her decision and we have no choice but to accept it.’ She turned to Agnes. ‘Now, I have to return to our guests. Come with me, Vanessa, and bring the baby. It might stop that wretched Pearson woman asking so many questions!’
She looked again at Agnes. ‘I’ll leave you to think about what you want to do. I trust you’ll make the right decision – for everyone.’
After they’d gone, Agnes sat on a nursing chair in the room that had once been hers but now felt like a stranger’s.
She reached into her bag and took out the teddy she had made in secret at St Jude’s, cut from scraps of fabric she had found in the workroom. She had made it for her own baby, but he hadn’t lived to see it.
She laid it in the cot, in the warm imprint where baby Grace had lain.
She didn’t really blame her parents. They had done their best for her, under the difficult circumstances they had found themselves in. Her mother was right, she had caused so much trouble, one way and another. The least she could do was not to cause any more.
The sitting-room door was half open, and as Agnes crept down the stairs she couldn’t resist pausing halfway down to take one last look at her family. There were her parents, her sister Vanessa with the baby in her arms, Leo looking on proudly. They looked so happy together, like a tableau of the perfect loving family.
There was no room for Agnes any more.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lil Fairbrass had done her family proud as usual, serving up a Christmas dinner fit for a king. All Christine’s brothers had gathered round the table to enjoy the feast together, and Tony and Eric had even managed to help Granddad Hollins down from the bedroom, so he wouldn’t miss any of the fun. They had eaten turkey, and exchanged gifts, and pulled crackers, and laughed until their sides ached.
Or at least, her mother and brothers had. Christine had sat quietly through it all, too preoccupied to enjoy the festivities.
She wasn’t the only quiet one. Maisie Warren’s two small children sat at the table opposite her, wide-eyed at their surroundings.
‘I bet they’ve
never had a Christmas like it, eh?’ Tony said to Christine.
She tried to smile back, but her face felt stiff. All she wanted to do was crawl away and lie down.
She had hoped no one would notice in the midst of all her brothers’ loud laughter and joking, but as her mother stood up to clear away the plates, she said, ‘You’ve hardly eaten a thing, love. What’s the matter with you?’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Christine said.
‘All the more for us then!’ Alfie went to snatch a roast potato from her plate, but his mother rapped him smartly on the knuckles with a spoon, making him howl in pain.
‘I reckon I should take you to the doctor,’ she said to Christine. ‘You’ve not been right for a while, have you?’
‘I’m all right, honestly.’
‘I don’t think you are. You’re off your food, tired all the time. And I know you’re awake most of the night, tossing and turning.’
‘Leave the lass alone, Ma!’ Tony said. ‘You fuss over her like she’s a china ornament.’
Lil sighed. ‘I can’t help it, can I? She’s my baby.’ She slowly dragged her gaze away from Christine.
‘Right, where’s the Christmas pud?’ Adam asked.
‘Greedy little beggar! You couldn’t eat another thing five minutes ago!’
‘Yes, well, I’m a growing lad, in’t I?’
The next minute they were all laughing and joking again. Christine was thankful for their high spirits, as it took their mother’s attention away from her.
She shifted in her seat. Sitting for too long pressed on her back and made her uncomfortable.
‘I’m going to the privy,’ she said.
‘Again?’ Ernie said. ‘You only went five minutes ago.’
‘I didn’t know you were keeping count!’ Christine flicked the back of her brother’s head as she passed, making him yelp.
In the privy she carefully adjusted her layers of clothing to hide her bulging belly. She was really beginning to show now. She was just glad that the weather was cold enough that she could conceal herself under various woolly jumpers.
But she didn’t know how much longer she could go on hiding.
Annie Pilcher’s mocking words came back to her: Sooner or later that little bairn’s going to pop out into the world. And won’t that be a lovely surprise for your mum, eh?
Christine picked her way back across the snow-covered yard to the welcoming warmth of her mother’s bright kitchen, to find the rest of the family gathered around the table in a state of high excitement.
When she came in, they all clustered together, as if they were trying to hide something.
‘What is it?’ She looked from one laughing face to another. ‘What are you lot up to?’
‘We’d best show her,’ Lil said. She and the boys stepped aside, to reveal a large, brightly wrapped package sitting on the kitchen table.
Christine blinked. ‘What is it?’
‘What does it look like?’ Ernie said, exasperated. ‘It’s a present, dafty.’
‘For you,’ Alfie added.
‘For me?’ Christine stared at it. ‘But we opened all our presents this morning?’
Her mother smiled. ‘We kept this one back, ’cos it’s special.’
‘What is it?’
‘You’d best open it and find out, hadn’t you?’
They gathered around her, and Christine could feel their eyes watching her eagerly as she pulled off the wrapping paper. ‘I still don’t understand why—’ She stopped dead when she ripped off a piece of paper to reveal a leather-bound book with gold lettering on its spine. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘It isn’t … it can’t be.’ She tore at the paper, pulling it away to reveal yet more books. Five in total.
‘It’s that set of encyclopaedias you wanted!’ Alfie shouted, unable to stand the suspense any longer. ‘The ones from the pawn-shop window.’
‘She can see that, you daft ha’porth!’ Tony cuffed his brother. ‘Ma said you’ve had your eye on them for a while,’ he explained to Christine. ‘She’s been putting money away every week to buy them for you.’
‘And we’ve been putting from our wages too,’ Ernie said. ‘I’ve been smoking nowt but dog-ends this past three months!’
‘I know they’re not brand new,’ Lil said. ‘But they’ll do, won’t they? For your schoolwork?’
‘They’re beautiful,’ Christine breathed, running her finger over a tooled leather spine. She had never owned anything so wonderful. ‘But you shouldn’t have spent all your money on me.’
‘It’ll be worth it,’ Lil said, ‘when you’re a teacher one day.’
Christine looked up at her mother, her face shining with quiet pride, and suddenly it was all too much for her.
‘Nay, lass!’ Lil rushed to embrace her as she sobbed. ‘Don’t take on so.’
‘I’ve never seen anyone cry at a Christmas present before!’ Alfie scoffed.
‘Don’t tease her,’ Lil warned. ‘She’s just crying ’cos she’s happy, that’s all. In’t that right, love?’
Christine buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, breathing in her warm, comforting scent. She wished she could stay there for ever, and never have to face anyone or anything else again.
Her mother had no idea that Christine was crying out of shame.
When Agnes arrived back at Leeds station the following day, the first person she met was Miss Gale.
At first Agnes didn’t recognise the well-dressed little woman who approached her outside the station.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Sheridan,’ she greeted Agnes cheerfully. ‘I trust you had a pleasant Christmas?’
‘Yes – thank you.’ Agnes looked her up and down. The Superintendent seemed so different out of her crisp grey uniform, a rather fetching red felt cloche hat pulled down over her grey hair.
‘You’ve been to see your family, I assume?’ Agnes nodded. ‘That must have been nice for you, being able to spend time with your mother and father.’
Agnes was silent. No need to tell anyone that she had spent most of yesterday scouring the streets around King’s Cross, looking for a cheap bed and breakfast. She had finally found one so squalid it wouldn’t have looked out of place in Quarry Hill, where she had spent a sleepless night in a cold, draughty room, watching bugs crawling up the wall while she waited until she could catch the first train home.
Home. She frowned at the word that came into her mind. When did she start thinking of this place as home?
Perhaps when she realised she had nowhere else to go.
Miss Gale insisted that Agnes share her taxi back to the district nurses’ house. Agnes was embarrassed, wondering how she was going to pay when she’d spent all her money on a place to stay the previous night, but Miss Gale said it would be her treat.
‘I wouldn’t hear of you walking all the way back to Steeple Street in the snow,’ she said. ‘Besides, I want to hear about your visit. How was your mother?’
Fortunately, Agnes was able to steer the conversation away from that subject towards Miss Gale’s Christmas with her own family. The Superintendent had a great deal to say about her sister, her children and all their various offspring.
‘Honestly, it was a mad house,’ she declared. ‘I tell you, Miss Sheridan, I shall be relieved to return to Steeple Street, just for some peace and quiet. Although my niece did buy me this hat for Christmas,’ she added. ‘I wouldn’t usually wear red, but it’s rather dashing, don’t you think?’
They returned to Steeple Street to find a noisy game of gin rummy going on in the common room, and the telephone ringing in the hall.
‘Oh dear,’ Miss Gale said. ‘Perhaps I was wrong about the peace and quiet!’
She headed for the telephone just as Dottie appeared in the hall, a glass of brandy in her hand. She took one look at Miss Gale and ducked back into the kitchen.
‘I hope that is for medicinal purposes, Dottie!’ Miss Gale called after her as she picked up the telephone receiver. ‘Hello? Steeple S
treet District Nurses, Susan Gale speaking. Oh, hello, Dr Branning. No, I’ve just this moment returned myself … Miss Sheridan? Yes, she’s here. She came with me from the station as a matter of fact …’
Agnes was halfway up the stairs but she stopped and turned at the sound of her name.
‘Oh dear, that’s unfortunate.’ Miss Gale frowned into the receiver. ‘And you say he’s been taken to the Infirmary? Yes, I’ll inform her right away. Thank you for letting us know, doctor.’
She hung up the telephone, still frowning. Agnes came slowly down the stairs.
‘Did I hear you mention me, Miss Gale?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Yes, you did. You treat the Willis family, don’t you?’
‘That’s right. Why, what’s happened? Has Mr Willis been taken ill again?’ Agnes’ heart sank. Poor Mr Willis, she thought. And just as he was starting to recover, too.
Miss Gale shook her head. ‘Not this time. Apparently one of the Willis children has been taken to hospital with suspected diphtheria.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘They called Dr Branning out to the house this morning. Apparently the boy was taken ill with a sore throat and fever a few days ago.’
A strange sinking feeling came over Agnes as she listened to the Superintendent.
‘What is it, Miss Sheridan?’ Miss Gale said. ‘You look quite pale.’
Agnes paused. ‘Mr Willis asked me to see the boy,’ she said.
‘Did he? When?’
‘A couple of days ago. When I called in to treat his leg.’
‘And how did he seem to you?’
‘I – I don’t know, I didn’t see him. Mrs Willis wouldn’t allow it.’
‘Wouldn’t allow it? Why on earth not?’
Agnes could feel herself blushing. ‘She doesn’t like me, Miss Gale.’
‘I see. Well, I knew you and Mrs Willis have had your difficulties, but I didn’t realise the situation had become so bad.’ Miss Gale looked grave. ‘I must say, that does make it rather difficult for you to carry out your duties. It’s extremely important for a district nurse to win the trust of her patients and their families if she is to do her job properly.’
The Nurses of Steeple Street Page 30