A Nightingale Christmas Carol

by Donna Douglas

  Dora turned back to Helen. ‘How’s David? Did he come home, too?’

  Helen’s smile faded. ‘No, he – didn’t.’

  Dora saw the sadness on her friend’s face.

  ‘I know how you feel,’ she said quietly. ‘Nick’s out there, too.’

  Helen opened her mouth to reply, but once again the dumpy girl stepped in. ‘We should be getting back to the ward, Dawson,’ she said. ‘Those patients should be arriving soon.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Helen gave Dora an apologetic smile. ‘It was nice to see you again, Riley.’

  ‘You too. I daresay we’ll be running into each other a lot, since we’re both working here. Perhaps we could go out for tea . . .?’

  But Helen had already gone, hurrying in the wake of the other girl’s brisk footsteps.

  ‘Who was that?’ Clare wanted to know as they walked away.

  ‘An old friend of mine, Dora Riley. We shared a room together while we were training here.’

  Helen glanced back over her shoulder at Dora. Seeing her again, it was as if someone had turned on a tap, letting all the memories rush out, filling her mind with pictures. That draughty attic room, with its three narrow beds. The hours they’d spent there, poring over their textbooks, desperately testing each other before their State Finals. Dora and Millie, their other room mate, standing on their beds, craning their necks to blow cigarette smoke through the skylight so the Home Sister wouldn’t catch them. Coming home after lights out and clambering up the drainpipe, hoping someone had remembered to leave the window open . . .

  ‘I suppose you must have had some high old times here as a student?’ Clare guessed her thoughts.

  Helen smiled. ‘Yes, we did.’

  The Nightingale was where she’d grown up. Up until the time she’d arrived as a student, she had led a sheltered life under the control of her domineering mother. But here she’d learned to be independent, to make friends, to fall in love . . .

  She’d had mixed feelings about coming back. There were so many memories for her at the Nightingale. This was where she’d had some of her happiest times, and some of her most heartbreaking.

  But now it all seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened to Helen since then, it was as if she was picturing a different person’s life.

  The Nightingale was different, too. With its crumbling walls and bombed-out buildings, nothing was as she remembered it. She had spent the whole morning getting lost in the unfamiliar passageways.

  Perhaps it was for the best, she thought. Some memories were better left in the past.

  ‘Are you going to tell her?’ Clare’s next words were like a blow, shocking Helen back to the present.

  Helen looked at her sharply. ‘Who?’

  ‘Your friend Riley. Are you going to tell her what happened?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But surely if she’s such an old friend of yours . . .’

  Helen looked back down the corridor to where Dora had stood, even though she had long since disappeared from view. ‘I don’t want anyone to know,’ she said.

  Clare nodded. ‘I think it’s probably for the best,’ she said. She patted Helen’s arm. ‘That’s why you’ve come here, isn’t it? To put everything behind you and start again.’

  Helen smiled sadly. If only it was that simple, she thought.

  Chapter Five

  Lily Doyle was in one of her moods again.

  Dora felt it as soon as she came into the house. Her nanna was sitting at one end of the kitchen table, shelling peas while her sister-in-law sat at the other, staring blankly into space and ignoring her little daughter Mabel who was clamouring for her attention.

  Dora felt an instant surge of irritation at the sight of Lily, her head drooping like a flower on her slender neck. But then the twins came rushing in to greet her and she forgot all about her sister-in-law as she cuddled and fussed over them.

  Her mother appeared in the doorway to the scullery. ‘Cup of tea, love?’ she offered. ‘It’s just brewed.’

  ‘Yes please, Mum.’ Dora followed her into the scullery, Walter and Winnie still clinging to her skirt.

  ‘What’s up with Lily?’ she asked.

  Rose Doyle sighed. ‘God knows. She’s been sitting there all day, looking like a wet weekend. It’s been driving me mad, to tell the truth.’ She stirred the leaves in the big brown teapot.

  ‘She wants to get off her backside and get a job, then she wouldn’t have time to feel sorry for herself.’

  ‘Oh, she’d never do that.’

  ‘I don’t see why not. There’s work to be done, so why shouldn’t she do it?’

  Her mother shook her head. ‘She ain’t like the rest of us, Dor.’

  Dora glanced back through the thin curtain that divided the kitchen from the scullery.

  It was true, Lily Doyle certainly wasn’t anything like her in-laws. The Doyle women were all born grafters. Even Nanna Winnie – old, arthritic and nearly blind as she was – still did her bit to help around the house.

  But Lily used the fact that she was the mother of a young child as an excuse not to do war work, even though it was usually Dora’s mother who took care of Mabel while Lily moped around the place, not lifting a finger.

  Dora had tried to be patient with her, but Lily and her moods were beginning to get under her skin.

  ‘She’s delicate,’ Rose said.

  Dora laughed. ‘Delicate, my backside! She’s just idle, if you ask me.’

  Rose chuckled as she poured the tea. ‘You might be right, there.’ She handed Dora a cup. ‘How was your day, anyway?’

  ‘Oh, the usual. A few broken bones and a woman who fainted in the fishmonger’s queue.’

  She didn’t tell her mother about the patient with peritonitis who’d died in front of her because there was no doctor to operate on him, or the shy young wife who’d been too ashamed to go to the doctor about her venereal disease until it was too late.

  Nor did she tell her how many times she’d thought she’d seen Nick being brought in on one of the military ambulances. Rose Doyle had enough to deal with, without Dora loading her misery on her shoulders.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Rose said. ‘D’you know, I waited nearly two hours to buy a lump of cod this morning?’

  ‘And I bet when you got to the front of the queue they were sold out?’ Dora finished for her.

  Rose looked rueful. ‘I probably would have fainted with shock myself if they’d had any left!’

  They both laughed. Then Dora said, ‘How were the twins? I hope they didn’t play you up too much?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Rose smiled. ‘They were little angels, as usual.’

  ‘More like little monkeys, I’ll bet!’ Dora ruffled her son’s hair affectionately.

  Rose poured another cup of tea. ‘I’ll just take this in to your nanna—’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Dora picked up her cup. ‘You’ve been on your feet all day.’

  ‘So have you.’

  ‘Yes, but my legs are younger than yours.’

  Back in the kitchen, Nanna Winnie was showing Mabel how to shell peas.

  ‘Use your thumb, like this,’ she was saying to the little girl, who perched on her knee. ‘That’s it, you’ve got the idea.’

  ‘Mum, look!’ Mabel held up a handful of peas.

  ‘Very nice.’ Lily didn’t bother to look up, much to Dora’s irritation.

  ‘Good girl,’ Nanna said encouragingly to Mabel. ‘Now you’ve got the knack, you can shell all the peas. Make yourself useful.’ She glared at Lily when she said it.

  ‘I’m glad someone is,’ Dora said, setting down the cup in front of Nanna.

  Lily looked up at last. There was no denying she was a pretty girl, even with her sulky, turned-down mouth.

  ‘I can’t help it if I’m too tired to lend a hand, can I?’ she said. ‘If you must know, I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.’

  ‘Really?’ Dora shot back. ‘That’s funny, I heard you sn
oring all night.’

  Lily ignored her. ‘I don’t like sharing a room with you and the children,’ she complained. ‘I’m such a light sleeper, the slightest noise wakes me up.’

  ‘I don’t like it either,’ Dora said. ‘But we’ve got to put up with it, haven’t we? There’s nine of us crammed into two rooms, in case you haven’t noticed.’

  Lily sighed. ‘I wish we still lived in Griffin Street. There was much more room there.’

  ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,’ Nanna Winnie muttered.

  Dora glanced at her grandmother. Nanna Winnie had her head down, her swollen fingers busy shelling peas, but Dora knew Lily’s comment would have hurt her. Nanna had lived in Griffin Street since she was a young bride, and she felt its loss more deeply than anyone.

  Not that Lily would have thought about that before she opened her mouth. She never thought of anyone but herself.

  ‘But it was such a lovely house,’ she sighed. ‘We had that nice room all to ourselves, Peter and Mabel and me. And we knew all the neighbours. It wasn’t like round here, where we don’t know a soul—’

  ‘Why don’t you lay the table?’ Dora cut in desperately.

  Lily sent her a long-suffering look. ‘If I must.’

  Dora watched her sister-in-law dragging herself off to the scullery as if her legs were made of lead.

  ‘Perhaps she needs a tonic?’ Nanna suggested.

  She needs a kick up the backside, Dora thought. She would have given her one, too, but she didn’t want to create more bad feeling in the house.

  Dora’s sister Bea returned home just as her mother was putting the pot of corned beef hash on the table. She came in like a whirlwind as usual, casting off her hat and coat and complaining about the terrible day she’d had at the factory.

  ‘Honestly, I worked my fingers to the bone,’ she said. ‘Look—’ she held out her hands. ‘Have you ever seen blisters like it? And my nails are broken.’ She examined her thumb sulkily.

  ‘Poor you,’ Dora said. ‘I’m surprised we didn’t see you in Casualty.’

  Bea sent her a sharp look, sensing sarcasm. ‘Don’t you start with me, Dora Riley, or I’ve a good mind not to give you this . . .’ She reached into her coat pocket and produced a bar of Fry’s chocolate, which she tossed on to the table.

  Dora stared at it. It was so long since she’d seen a bar of chocolate she’d almost forgotten what it looked like. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘A friend gave it to me last night,’ Bea said.

  ‘Some Yank, I’ll bet,’ their brother Alfie said, snatching up the chocolate bar and turning it around in his hands. From his wide-eyed expression, he could hardly believe what he was seeing either.

  Bea clipped him round the ear. ‘That’s enough of your cheek! And you’re to share it with the little ones, mind.’

  Alfie pulled a face. ‘There won’t be much to go round.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Bea looked mock contrite. ‘I’ll tell my friend not to bother next time, shall I?’

  ‘Is he right, Bea?’ Rose asked. ‘Did you get it off an American?’

  Bea’s chin lifted defiantly. ‘What do you think? I didn’t go and buy it down the Co-op, did I? Oh, don’t look so worried, Mum!’ she grinned. ‘They’ve got loads to spare. You should see them at the club. Their leftovers could feed us lot for three days!’

  She glanced at the pot her mother had placed on the table, and Dora saw her sister’s lip curl. Bea had always been a little madam, but she’d changed even more since she started volunteering at the American Red Cross Club in Mayfair. Two nights a week she trotted off up West, high heels on and dolled up to the nines. She swore she only cleared plates and served drinks, but Dora was worried about her younger sister.

  And her mother clearly felt the same. ‘I’m not sure I like you taking presents off strange men,’ Rose said. ‘Especially not Americans. You hear such stories about them, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I can look after myself.’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t want to get a name for yourself, do you? You know how people talk.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all different these days. Girls can go out and have fun without anyone saying anything.’ Bea helped herself to a piece of chocolate and put it in her mouth.

  ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a bit of fun,’ Lily said mournfully.

  ‘You should come out with me,’ Bea said. ‘I’m going dancing with Kitty at the Palais tomorrow night. Why don’t you come with us?’

  ‘I might just do that.’ Lily turned to Rose.’ ‘You wouldn’t mind looking after Mabel for a couple of hours, would you?’

  ‘Why should she? She looks after her every other hour God sends!’ Nanna mumbled.

  The thought of a night out seemed to brighten Lily’s spirits no end. Straight after tea, she disappeared off with Bea to plan what they were going to wear, leaving Dora and her mother to wash and dry up.

  ‘Her Ladyship seems in a much better mood,’ Dora observed as she scrubbed at a pan.

  ‘Thank Gawd for that!’ Rose sighed. ‘That face could curdle milk.’ Her expression grew serious. ‘I’m not sure I agree with this business about her going out dancing, though. Surely it ain’t respectable for a married woman to go gadding about, especially not with her husband away serving his country. As I said, people talk.’

  Dora thought about the young woman with gonorrhoea in Casualty, and how she’d wept in her arms.

  ‘It was only one night,’ she’d cried. ‘I didn’t even see him again. I never thought I’d catch anything . . . what will people say?’

  But even Lily wouldn’t be that daft, she thought. ‘She’s only going out dancing. And Bea and Kitty will be there to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Rose sighed. ‘Anyway, at least it means we won’t have to look at her miserable face for another night!’

  Lily was asleep when Dora got up for work the following morning. So much for her being a light sleeper, she thought.

  Kitty Jenkins was waiting for Dora when she came on to the ward.

  ‘We’re to report to Matron’s office straight away,’ she said.

  Dora looked at the junior nurse’s face, all lit up with hope, and knew exactly what she was thinking. This was the summons she had been waiting for.

  Matron’s makeshift office was situated in what had been the sister’s sitting room off the children’s ward. Her original office was long gone, destroyed in the blast three years earlier that had killed the Assistant Matron, Miss Hanley.

  Her surroundings might have changed but Miss Kathleen Fox was as cool and implacable as ever as she sat behind her desk in her black uniform, her face framed by an elaborate starched headdress. If she looked closely, Dora could see the lines of strain around her grey eyes, and the threads of white in her chestnut hair, but Matron’s indomitable spirit and energy were still there. And Dora still felt as nervous as a probationer as she and Kitty stood on the other side of the desk, waiting to hear their fate.

  ‘As I’m sure you are aware by now, the Ministry has requested that this hospital be used for the treatment of military casualties,’ Matron said. ‘These wards would usually be staffed by QAs, but with so many still away in Europe, they have requested help from some of our experienced nurses.’

  Dora felt Kitty’s excitement beside her. The young girl was fit to burst. ‘Yes, Matron,’ she said.

  ‘With that in mind, you will both be transferring to one of the military wards as from tomorrow morning. Nurse Riley, you will be senior staff nurse, acting under the instruction of a QA. I believe you already know Nurse Dawson?’

  ‘Yes, Matron.’ Dora smiled. That was something, at least.

  ‘She will be acting as Sister for at least two other wards, so I daresay she will rely on your judgement and experience to help her,’ Miss Fox went on. ‘You will also have Nurse Jenkins and two VADs to help you.’

  ‘T
hank you, Matron.’ Kitty was beaming from ear to ear, but Dora was still troubled.

  ‘Excuse me, Matron, but what will happen to Casualty, and the emergency wards?’ she asked.

  Miss Fox’s brows puckered in a small frown. ‘We will still continue to run a Casualty department, but any emergency admissions will be sent to the City Infirmary before they are transferred down to Kent,’ she said. She must have noticed Dora’s expression because she added, ‘I know the situation is not ideal by any means, but the needs of the military must come first.’

  ‘Yes, Matron.’ Dora could feel Kitty’s sidelong glare fixed on her.

  ‘As I said, you will be transferring to your new ward tomorrow morning. We will be using what was Wren Ward, Nurse Riley, if you could see that it is stocked and all the beds made up?’

  ‘Yes, Matron.’ Dora surreptitiously wiped her clammy hands down her apron. She was aware of a strange chill on the back of her neck. ‘Will the patients be arriving tomorrow?’

  Miss Fox nodded. ‘Either late tomorrow, or the day after.’ She paused, her gaze dropping to the blotter in front of her. ‘There is something else you will need to know,’ she said at last. ‘I feel it only fair to warn you, these particular patients might not be what you’re expecting . . .’

  Chapter Six

  ‘They’re making you nurse Germans?’

  Kitty stared down at a faded patch on the chenille tablecloth. She didn’t dare meet her father’s eye.

  ‘They’re prisoners of war, Dad,’ she said quietly.

  ‘They’re still our enemy! It just ain’t right they should be under the same roof as our brave fighting men. Why haven’t they got their own hospitals?’

  ‘They do at some camps,’ Arthur put in, chewing on a piece of boiled mutton. ‘The Red Cross run them. Mr Hopkins told us.’

  Horace Jenkins turned his accusing gaze on Kitty.

  ‘Well? I don’t know, do I?’ she said. ‘All I know is what Matron told me.’

  Kitty shot an appealing look at her mother. Florrie Jenkins was very quiet, her head down, seemingly absorbed in her meal. No one else but Kitty seemed to notice she wasn’t eating anything.