They looked at each other for a long time.
‘Aye,’ Bess agreed, her smile trembling. ‘You’re right.’
Polly linked her arm in her mother’s. ‘Shall we go home?’ she said.
Bess shook her head. ‘Nay, lass. It wouldn’t be right.’
Polly’s confusion and dismay were written all over her face. ‘But I thought—’
‘It wouldn’t be right because there’s someone who needs you more than I do at the moment.’
She nodded back towards the churchyard, to where Finn was still working away, a small figure in the distance, wielding his sledgehammer. Polly looked over at him and Bess saw her expression change, soften with longing.
‘Go to him, Pol,’ Bess said.
Polly dragged her gaze from Finn to her mother. ‘But—’
‘Go to him,’ she repeated softly. ‘He needs you.’
She watched Polly walking up the path. Job saw her first. He lifted his black head and got to his feet. Then Finn turned to see what had attracted his dog’s attention. He saw Polly and froze for a moment.
‘Go on, lad,’ Bess urged him softly. ‘Don’t be proud. Don’t make the same mistake I did.’
But there was no danger of it. A moment later Finn let the hammer fall to the ground with a thud and they were running into each other’s arms.
Bess watched them for a moment. Polly was right. Two was always better than one. And now she, Finn and Polly all had two people to care for and to look after them.
Satisfied with her work, Bess picked up her bag and headed back to Steeple Street.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The nursing badge felt heavy and solid, and Agnes couldn’t stop looking at it. It bore the letters QVJI, the initials of the Queen Victoria Jubilee Institute, named after the monarch whose generous donation had allowed the first district nurses to go out and do their work.
On the back it was engraved with a special number. Miss Gale had explained that every district nurse had her own number, and when she left the service her badge – with its number – was passed on to someone else.
Agnes couldn’t help wondering about the district nurse who’d had her badge before her. She liked to think it had a happy story attached to it.
‘It’s a proud moment for you, I daresay, to be able to call yourself a Queen’s Nurse at last?’ Miss McLeod said. They were gathered around the table in the dining room for a celebration tea, as they always did when a student nurse gained her badge. Phil and Polly had celebrated theirs a month earlier.
‘Yes,’ Agnes agreed. ‘Yes, it is.’
There was a time when she might have scoffed at the very idea. When she’d first arrived – was it only six months earlier? It felt like a lifetime – she couldn’t imagine that the nurses of Steeple Street had anything to teach her.
But now …
As if she could read her thoughts, Bess said, ‘Well, Miss Sheridan? Do you still think it’s just a matter of changing dressings and giving injections?’
Agnes cringed. How naive could she have been? In the past six months she had seen and experienced more than she would if she’d stayed at the Nightingale for six years. She’d learned a great deal more about human nature, too.
But conscious that it was Bess Bradshaw asking the question, she smiled sweetly and said, ‘Oh yes. You’ve taught me there’s much more to it than that.’
Bess’ brows rose. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes, indeed. There’s drinking tea as well.’
Everyone laughed. Even Bess’ mouth twisted wryly. ‘I’m glad we could teach you something, at least. Especially since you trained at London’s most prestigious teaching hospital!’ she mimicked Agnes’ accent as she helped herself to a slice of seed cake.
Agnes blushed. ‘Was I really that pompous?’
‘Lass, if you were any more puffed up, we could have pricked you with a pin!’
‘Take no notice of her,’ Polly said from across the table. ‘She’s teasing you, as usual.’
Bess turned on her daughter. ‘Your collar’s crooked,’ she said.
‘You see?’ Polly shrugged. ‘She doesn’t have a good word to say about anyone. I shan’t miss her at all when I’m away doing my midwifery.’
‘You won’t last the six months,’ Bess said.
‘I shall have to prove you wrong, won’t I? As usual.’
Agnes saw the smile that passed between them. Polly had changed a lot in the past six months too. There was a time when she would have crumbled under her mother’s stinging remarks. But now she calmly gave back as good as she got.
That must be what being in love does to you, Agnes thought.
But seeing Polly and her mother on such good terms made her feel the loss of her own mother more keenly. Agnes hadn’t heard from any of her family since Christmas and she had long since given up looking in her pigeon hole and hoping for a letter.
Part of her wished it didn’t have to be this way. Surely if even Polly and Bess could make up their differences, she and her mother could do the same?
But the difference was that both Polly and her mother wanted to build bridges. It took two, and Agnes’ mother had no interest in even trying. Her father might have interceded for her, if he hadn’t been so frail himself. As it was, Agnes had to admit to herself that her family was lost to her. For the time being, at least.
It was time to stop hoping and wishing for a miracle, she thought. And it was also time to stop blaming herself. She had made a tragic mistake, but she shouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life paying for it.
Seeing the way Lil Fairbrass and her sons had rallied around Christine and her baby had made Agnes realise how cold and uncaring her own family had been.
She looked around the table at the ring of smiling faces, all wishing her well. Over the past six months, she and the other district nurses had laughed and cried together. They had argued and sniped and sulked, and celebrated and commiserated together. These people were her family now, Agnes thought. Together with Christine and Lil Fairbrass, and Queenie Gawtrey, and Isaiah Shapcott, and all the other quirky characters she’d come to know and – in spite of what she’d at first believed – actually love. She would miss them all desperately when the time came for her to leave Quarry Hill and go to her new district.
Miss Gale tapped her teaspoon on the side of her cup for silence.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘now you’ve got the badge, you really should have a bicycle to go with it.’
Agnes sat up straight, hope lifting her heart. ‘Did the Association buy me one?’
‘I jolly well hope not!’ Phil muttered. ‘My motorcycle is top of the list!’
‘Unfortunately not,’ Miss Gale said. ‘There are no funds for either of you, I’m afraid. But someone else has come to your rescue at least, Miss Sheridan.’
Miss Gale met Bess’ eye across the table. Agnes could see they were both trying their best not to smile.
Just then the loud ringing of a bicycle bell came from outside.
‘Right on cue.’ Miss Gale smiled round at them all. ‘Shall we go?’
The Superintendent led the way out to the front garden, just in time to see Norman Willis pushing a bicycle up the path. His wife Nettie followed behind.
Agnes stared at them. ‘What’s this?’
‘What does it look like? A camel?’ Like Bess, Nettie Willis could never resist a sly dig even if she and Agnes had made their peace.
Agnes ignored her. ‘Is it for me?’
‘If you want it,’ Mr Willis said. ‘We just thought – that is, the wife and I – and a few of the others round Quarry Hill – we thought—’
‘We were sick of watching you trudging along with that bag of yours,’ Nettie finished for him.
‘It in’t brand new,’ Mr Willis said apologetically. ‘I put it together myself, from bits and pieces I found at the workshop.’ He looked shyly at her. ‘Well? Will it do, nurse?’
It was a Frankenstein’s monster of a bicycle, and A
gnes had no doubt she would be teased about it wherever she went, but she felt a lump in her throat when she looked at it.
‘It’s beautiful, Mr Willis,’ she said. ‘And I wouldn’t have a new bicycle now, not even if the Association gave me one plated in gold.’
‘They’d better not!’ Phil muttered.
‘I hope it’ll stand you in good stead at any rate. Wherever they send you next,’ Mr Willis said.
‘That’s a point,’ Miss Goode spoke up. ‘Do you know where you’ll be going yet?’
Miss Gale and Bess Bradshaw looked at each other. ‘As a matter of fact, we were just discussing that very matter,’ Miss Gale said.
‘Oh yes?’ Agnes looked up hopefully.
Bess grinned. ‘I hope you’re ready for a challenge?’
Agnes rang the bell on her new old bike and the other nurses jumped back in horror, covering their ears. She wasn’t sure what kind of bell it was, but it was loud enough to scare the birds out of the trees.
‘After the six months I’ve just had, I think I’m ready for anything,’ she said.
Have you read all the Nightingale books?
The Nightingale Girls
It’s 1936 and three girls from very different backgrounds sign up as student nurses in an East End hospital. Despite their differences, each is trying to escape their home lives. Can the hospital free them from their pasts?
The Nightingale Sisters
To the student nurses at the Nightingale Hospital, the ward sisters are heartless and frightening, with impossibly high standards. The sisters have problems of their own too … Will Violet reveal her dark secret? Can Dora ever get over Nick? And which man will Millie choose?
The Nightingale Nurses
It’s the final year of training for three young nurses at the Nightingale Hospital, and Helen, Dora and Millie all have their own battles to face. With war on the horizon, the women of the Nightingale must face up to the challenges ahead, both at work and in love.
Nightingales on Call
Dora and her old enemy Lucy are paired up on the children’s ward for the final three months of their training. The two nurses couldn’t seem more different, but they may have more in common than they think, as each hides a secret heartache.
A Nightingale Christmas Wish
As Christmas 1938 approaches, the staff at the Nightingale Hospital have their own wishes for the festive season but, with the country preparing for war, their personal goals might be the least of their worries. Just as Kathleen fears, by the time next Christmas comes neither life, nor the Nightingale, will ever be the same again.
Nightingales at War
Dora is the devoted mother of twin babies but, determined to help the war effort, she goes back to work at the Nightingale Hospital. More used to nights out in the West End, Jennifer and Cissy volunteer in the hope of tending to handsome soldiers. They soon find out that nursing isn’t quite what they were expecting. For shy and troubled Eve, the hospital provides an escape from the pressures of home, but the life of a nurse is never easy, especially at wartime.
Nightingales Under the Mistletoe
Christmas 1941 and with shortages everywhere, and every news bulletin announcing more defeats and losses, the British people are weary and demoralised and The Nightingale Hospital is suffering too. Millie is recently widowed and dealing with the demands of her family’s estate. It’s not long before her old world of The Nightingale begins to beckon, along with a long-lost love… Jess is struggling with her move from East London to the quiet of the countryside. Effie finds herself exiled to a quiet village, but the quiet doesn’t last for long as she soon finds excitement in the shape of a smooth-talking GI.
Digital Shorts
A Child is Born:
A Nightingales Christmas Story
On a foggy December night, a pregnant woman is knocked unconscious by a trolley bus. A healthy baby is delivered by the Nightingale nurses, but the woman claims to have lost her memory and cannot believe the child is hers. The Nightingale nurses may need to perform a Christmas miracle.
Little Girl Lost:
A Nightingales Christmas Story
It’s Christmas time at The Nightingale Hospital and the children on Parry Ward are waiting eagerly for Father Christmas to arrive. But an unexpected arrival beats him to it and, as one discovery leads to another, the past comes back to confront the present. But will Staff Nurse Rose Chambers be able to forgive and forget? It is Christmas after all…
To find out more about Donna and her books visit
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Epub ISBN: 9781473517301
Version 1.0
Published by Arrow Books 2016
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Copyright © Donna Douglas, 2016
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 2016 by Arrow Books
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ISBN 9780099599593
The Nurses of Steeple Street Page 37