A Nightingale Christmas Carol

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Hospital,’ she repeated, pointing to her uniform.

  Stefan Bauer let out a rough sigh, and his eyes flickered closed again.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Mal stuck his head through the curtain.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be in here. Go away!’ Kitty made to usher him out, but then a roar came from behind her. She turned round to see Stefan was suddenly awake and struggling to lever himself upright, his blazing gaze fixed on Mal.

  ‘What are you doing? Get back into bed!’ Kitty forgot about Mal and rushed to settle Stefan but he thrashed out wildly with his fists, catching her a glancing blow to the jaw that made her head ring. She stepped back, stunned.

  ‘Oi! That’s enough of that, pal!’ Mal lunged forward, pinning him to the bed. Stefan fought back like a madman, his hands going around Mal’s throat. Even with his injured leg, Stefan’s brute strength seemed more than a match for Mal.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ Kitty cried, throwing himself between them. ‘Let him go. He’s injured!’

  ‘He’s a maniac!’ Mal released him and staggered backwards. ‘He went for you—’

  ‘It’s seeing you that’s upset him,’ Kitty said. ‘You’d better go.’

  ‘But I’m not leaving you with him—’

  ‘I told you, you’re the one agitating him.’ She looked back at Stefan, who was staring at Mal as if he wanted to tear out his throat.

  Mal took a step back. ‘I’ll hang about outside—’ he started to say, but Kitty cut him off.

  ‘Please go,’ she said. ‘Leave me alone to do my job.’

  As soon as Mal had gone, the fight seemed to go out of the man. He collapsed against the pillows, breathing hard and wincing in pain. But at least he seemed calm for the moment.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t pulled your stitches out, carrying on like – ow!’ A sudden pain shot through her pulsing jaw.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Kitty looked at the man in surprise. A couple of the other German soldiers spoke some English, but it never occurred to her that Stefan might be one of them. He seemed too rough, somehow. ‘You speak English?’

  He ignored the question. ‘Your face . . .’ His eyes were dark with concern. ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident . . .’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll live.’ Kitty opened and closed her mouth experimentally. It still clicked a bit, but the pain was subsiding. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’

  She picked up the thermometer from the trolley and went to put it in his mouth, but Stefan jerked his head away.

  ‘I am in England?’ he said slowly.

  Kitty nodded. ‘The Nightingale Hospital in Bethnal Green, London, to be exact.’

  His brows lowered in a confused frown. Then he seemed to remember. ‘We surrendered . . .’ He looked round. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘They’re here, too. They’re quite safe.’

  ‘And Emil?’ He turned urgent eyes to hers. ‘Is Emil safe too?’

  Kitty looked at him blankly. ‘Emil?’

  ‘I have to find him.’ He struggled to sit up again, then collapsed backwards with a hiss of pain.

  ‘Yes, well, I tried to warn you, didn’t I?’ Kitty said. ‘You’re not going anywhere with your leg in a splint. Now I’m going to have to check that dressing. It’ll be a miracle if you haven’t opened up those stitches . . .’ She saw his desolate face and said, ‘Look, I’ll find out where your friend is.’

  His eyes lit up with hope. ‘You’ll find Emil?’

  Kitty nodded. ‘I’ll look at the list as soon as I’ve finished here—’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘I’ll give the orders, thank you very much.’ She advanced on him with the thermometer but he jerked his head away, his mouth an obstinate line.

  ‘I see. It’s like that, is it?’ Kitty took a step back and looked down at her watch. Ten to nine. She knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him unless she gave in, and she didn’t have the time to mess about. ‘All right, I’ll do it now,’ she sighed.

  Miss Sloan was at the desk, tidying it up before the night nurse arrived.

  ‘There you are, my dear,’ she greeted Kitty. ‘What on earth was all that fuss about? It sounded as if there was a murder going on in there just now.’

  ‘There nearly was.’ Kitty scanned the desk. ‘Have you seen the list of the patients that were just brought in?’

  ‘Here it is.’ Miss Sloan handed her the piece of paper. ‘I do hope the night nurse arrives soon. I’ve arranged to go to a music recital with a friend, in aid of the Russian refugees . . .’

  But Kitty had stopped listening as she scanned the names on the list.

  Stefan seemed to be asleep when Kitty returned. But as soon as she crept through the curtains his eyes flicked open.

  ‘Did you find him?’ he said.

  Kitty shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, there’s no one called Emil on the list.’

  He turned his face away from her. ‘He’s dead, then,’ he said in a flat voice.

  ‘You never know, perhaps he was taken to another hospital.’

  ‘No, he’s dead. I saw his body on the ground when we surrendered. I just thought he might . . .’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Was he a friend of yours?’ Kitty asked. But the man had closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a deep rhythm that told her he was already asleep.

  Kitty covered him up with a blanket and tiptoed away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The night nurse arrived shortly afterwards, at nine o’clock. By the time Kitty had finished giving her report, it was nearly ten past. She quickly changed out of her uniform and hurried to the bus stop, just in time to see the number 15 bus disappearing down the road.

  No doubt Bea and Lily were on it, she thought. Trust Bea to be punctual for once, on the very night Kitty needed her to be late!

  She paused for a moment to get her breath back and work out her options. She could always follow them up West, she thought. There wouldn’t be another bus that night, but if she ran all the way to the underground, and the trains were working properly, she might even catch them up before they reached Curzon Street.

  But was it really worth the effort? After fourteen hours on her feet, the idea of going dancing didn’t really appeal to her after all.

  She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but deep down she wasn’t too disappointed that they had gone without her.

  ‘Hello again.’

  Kitty turned round at the sound of Mal’s voice. He was leaning against a lamp post a few yards away, watching her.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here,’ he grinned.

  Kitty narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you following me?’

  ‘No!’ He laughed. ‘I’ve got better things to do with my time, thanks very much. Or I thought I did,’ he added, glancing at his watch. ‘I was meant to be going up West with Len and Andy, but I reckon they must have gone off without me.’

  ‘That makes two of us,’ Kitty said.

  ‘You mean your mates have abandoned you, too?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘So it’s just us, then?’

  She caught the hopeful look in his eye. ‘I’m going home.’

  His face fell. ‘Aw, don’t be a spoilsport. We could make a night of it.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Mal frowned. ‘So why don’t you like me? You never got round to saying earlier.’

  Kitty looked at him, leaning against the lamp post. He came across as so cocky and confident, but she could tell he wasn’t like that at all underneath.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t like you,’ she said. ‘I just don’t want a boyfriend, that’s all.’

  ‘But you do like me?’ he pounced on her words.

  She smiled reluctantly. ‘You’re all right,’ she conceded.

  ‘All right! She says I’m all right!’ Mal shouted out, startling an old woman who was shuffling past with her dog. He scrambled up the lamp post a
nd swung round it, his arm flung out dramatically. ‘What a compliment!’

  ‘Daft beggar!’ Kitty shook her head. ‘I’m going home.’

  Mal jumped down from the lamp post, straight into her path. ‘Can I walk you home?’

  ‘No thanks, I can find my own way.’

  ‘It’s a bit dangerous in this blackout.’

  ‘What are you on about? It’s not even properly dark yet—’ She stopped, every muscle in her body tensing.

  ‘What is it?’ Mal said.

  ‘Can’t you hear it?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘The engines.’ She tilted her head towards the sound. It was faint, scarcely more than a whisper on the air, but she could feel it more than hear it. ‘There are planes coming.’

  Mal listened for a moment. ‘Sorry, love, I can’t hear a—’

  His words were drowned out by the insistent moan of the air raid siren, coming out of nowhere.

  Kitty stood still, her blood freezing in her veins. But Mal didn’t seem at all concerned.

  ‘Looks like you were right,’ he grinned. ‘Oh well, I s’pose we’ll have to take shelter until they go over.’ He looked around. ‘Which way to the nearest shelter?’

  Kitty stared at him. She could see his mouth moving and she knew he was speaking, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying over the crashing of her heart.

  ‘Kitty?’ He looked back at her, frowning. ‘What’s the matter? You’ve gone very pale.’

  His words were drowned out by the sudden retort of the anti-aircraft guns in Victoria Park. Across the road, two buses had stopped and the passengers were making their way to the shelter.

  Kitty froze, every muscle in her body turned to stone by the harsh sounds echoing around her. Somewhere in all the madness she felt Mal take her arm. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  He took charge, and Kitty finally felt her feet moving as they followed the people thronging towards the shelter. But as they were crossing the road, the deep thrum of the plane engines grew louder. She risked a look over her shoulder and saw one of them, its sinister, long shape against the darkening sky.

  Again she froze, staring up as the plane passed overhead. The drone of the engine seemed to fill her brain, shutting out everything else, mesmerising her . . .

  And then, suddenly – silence. An ominous sound that sucked everything into it. Kitty caught the fearful looks on the faces of the people heading for the shelter and knew that, like her, they were counting the seconds before—

  They all knew the blast was coming but it still caught them by surprise, shattering the silence and shaking the ground under their feet. The next moment a cloud of smoke and dust rose across the rooftops, drifting towards them.

  ‘That was close!’ someone said.

  Another plane was coming, and everyone started to hurry, except Kitty, whose feet were welded to the pavement again. She might have stayed there if Mal hadn’t picked her up and carried her down the steps to the shelter.

  He dumped her on a long bench, beside a harassed-looking woman with a lot of crying children.

  ‘You’ll be safe here,’ he promised.

  Another explosion somewhere above them brought a shower of plaster dust down on them. The children cried louder, but their mother calmly handed out slices of bread and marge to silence them, a fixed smile on her face.

  ‘Look, we’re having a picnic,’ she said, her voice falsely bright.

  Mal started to take his hand away, but Kitty held on to it in panic.

  ‘Where are you going? You can’t leave me!’

  He nodded back towards the steps. ‘I’ve got to go and see if I can help.’

  ‘But it’s not safe!’

  He grinned. ‘I didn’t know you cared.’ He carefully extricated himself from her grasp. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Kitty couldn’t watch him go. She stared instead at the thick film of dust that covered her shoes. Just a few minutes earlier, that dust might have been someone’s home. Perhaps one of the people crammed in here, in this damp, gloomy shelter, would leave in a few hours only to find their house and everything they had was destroyed.

  Another blast shook the walls of the shelter.

  ‘Here.’ Kitty felt a nudge in her ribs and looked round to see the woman next to her proffering a slice of bread and marge. ‘I’ve got plenty to go round,’ she smiled.

  ‘Thank you.’ Kitty took it.

  ‘It’ll be all right, you know,’ the woman said. She had one of her children on her lap, hugging him tightly to her. ‘I’ll look after you. We’ll see it out together.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kitty took a bite of the bread. It was hard and greyish brown in colour, and it stuck in her throat.

  The woman smiled confidingly. ‘He’s very brave, isn’t he? Your young man.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kitty said, without thinking. ‘Yes, he is.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Doodlebugs, everyone called them, as if giving them a cheery name would make them less terrifying.

  It was a long night. The V-1s came over for hours, on and off. No sooner had the all-clear sounded and everyone relaxed than another air raid warning started up.

  Dora and her family had debated going to the shelter, but there was hardly time between the raids.

  ‘Besides,’ Nanna Winnie sniffed, ‘my old bones won’t take another night in that damp shelter. If my number’s up, then I’d rather go in my own bed, thank you very much.’

  ‘No one’s number is going to be up,’ Dora’s mother replied firmly, hugging little Mabel tighter into her lap. They had got the children out of bed, and now Walter and Winnie dozed in Dora’s arms, warm and sleepy in their nightclothes. At least she’d got her wish to spend time with her children, although not in the way she would have wanted. ‘Turn that wireless up, Alfie. Saturday Night Theatre will be starting soon.’

  But even though they all pretended to be engrossed in the play, Dora knew that like her, her mother and grandmother were listening to each bomb as it droned overhead, their hearts stopping when the engine cut out, waiting for it to drop.

  The only one who seemed to enjoy the air raid was Alfie, who peered up at the sky through a gap in the blackout curtain.

  ‘It’s funny, ain’t it?’ he remarked. ‘Sometimes they come straight down like a stone, and other times they take ages, like a feather. Why do you think that is?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ his mother snapped. ‘Now come away from that window before anyone sees the light.’

  ‘The V-1s can’t see us, they ain’t got no pilots.’

  ‘They might not be able to see us, but the ARP wardens can. I don’t want them coming round here with a fine, thank you very much.’

  Saturday Night Theatre ended, but Dora had stopped listening to it long before the end. Then it was Evening Prayers, followed by Saturday Night at the Palais with Harry Leader and his band.

  Dora glanced at her nanna, moving slowly back and forth in her old rocking chair. Once her hands would have been busy with knitting or mending until late into the night, but now she couldn’t see well enough by the lamplight to work. With nothing to distract her, she could only stare into the empty grate.

  Her mother seemed just as preoccupied. Even though she tried to smile and tap her hands on her knee in time to the music, every now and then her troubled gaze would stray to the clock on the mantelpiece. Dora knew exactly what she was thinking.

  ‘She’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘Bea’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. Besides, Lily’s with her.’

  ‘Yes, but what if . . .’ Rose’s voice trailed off, as if she couldn’t allow herself to utter the terrible thoughts that tormented her. ‘I’d just like her home safe,’ she finished quietly.

  ‘And she will be,’ Dora said. ‘But our Bea’s got more sense than to try to get back with all this going on. I expect she and Lily have taken shelter somewhere until it’s finished.’

  ‘You’re right,
love. I’m just being daft, as usual.’ Her mother nodded, but Dora could see she was still worried.

  Finally, when the wireless ended at midnight, they all wearily took themselves off to bed. The twins didn’t stir as Dora settled them in her double bed, but Mabel woke up.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ she wanted to know, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

  ‘She’ll be back soon, ducks.’

  Mabel instantly snapped awake, her brown eyes wide and fearful. ‘Where is she? Why hasn’t she come home?’

  A distant explosion rattled the windows in their frames. Mabel yelped with terror. ‘I want my Mum!’ she whined.

  ‘Shh, you’ll wake Walter and Winnie,’ Dora whispered. But it was too late, they were already stirring.

  Once awake, it didn’t take long for them to catch on to their cousin’s terror. Before long, all three of them were crying. Dora struggled to console them all, singing them songs and making up silly rhymes to distract them. Walter and Winnie joined in, but Lily’s daughter remained sullen and watchful, her mouth turned down in an exact imitation of her mother.

  Finally, Dora managed to settle them all in their beds. She cuddled down with her arms round the twins, finally giving in to the heavy weariness that engulfed her.

  But no sooner had she fallen asleep than she was being woken up again by a tug on her sleeve.

  ‘Auntie Dora!’ She opened her eyes to find herself staring into Mabel’s tearful face.

  Dora struggled to sit up. ‘What is it, love?’

  ‘I’ve wet the bed.’ Her lip trembled and a moment later she burst into noisy tears. Dora rushed to console her, fearful that she would wake the twins again.

  ‘It’s all right, love. It was an accident, there’s no harm done.’

  ‘Mum’ll smack me.’

  ‘She won’t know.’ Careful not to disturb the twins, Dora clambered out of bed. ‘We’ll sort it out,’ she promised. ‘Come on, let’s get you washed and find you something clean to put on.’

  Still bleary with sleep, she led Mabel through to the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to find the light on and her mother still up, wrapped in her dressing gown in Nanna’s rocking chair.