Maura knew to wait until he was in the bed and lying down before talking to him. A minute later, the pot shoved back under the bed, Maura frowning at the sound of the splosh of urine hitting the floorboards, Tommy lay with his arm over her chest. That was all Maura wanted or needed from him. The women in the street provided the rest, but in order to sleep, she needed him there beside her.
‘Don’t worry, queen, she will be better tomorrow,’ he whispered.
‘I hope so,’ said Maura. ‘I went to Mass with Kathleen, but, Tommy, if they had just let me see her. How can she get better if she doesn’t know where her mammy is? What if she wakes up now? You know how often Angela wakes in the night. She will be calling for me, wondering where I am, Tommy. I don’t think I can sleep again until I know how she is. Will you go back to the pub and ask them can we use the phone to ring the hospital? Someone might be able to tell me how she is.’
But it was no use. Tommy was snoring. Maura, trapped under his arm, looked out through the window to the inky sky and began what for her would be a long night of prayer.
6
The weather had turned overnight from warm and damp to sharp and cold and Mrs Duffy felt it deep in her bones. She threw an extra shovel of coal on the fire she was laying in the morning room before the girls arrived down for breakfast. As usual, Beth was the first to show her face.
‘Morning, Nurse Harper,’ she said as she placed the flat of her hand in the small of her back and, wincing, stood upright. ‘Would you move, dog.’ She gently pushed Scamp, the nurses’ waif-and-stray dog, out of the way with the toe of her slipper.
He shot a resentful glance at her as she shooed him away from the heat of the fire, then crawled under the table on his belly. He always moved there once breakfast was laid, to wait for scraps. Scamp and Mrs Duffy had a love–hate relationship, which amused the nurses. Mrs Duffy gave a good impression of having no time for him, but everyone knew she had grown used to him and would be lost without him now.
Since her first week at Lovely Lane, Beth had made a habit of being the first nurse downstairs in the morning and she and Mrs Duffy had become close. Even so, it would never occur to Mrs Duffy to address her as anything other than Nurse Harper. ‘Isn’t it exciting, you being on children’s today,’ she said as the shovel slipped from her fingers and into the coal bucket with a clatter. ‘I do love the children’s ward.’
‘Well, it’s fine for Pammy,’ said Beth churlishly as she kicked off her shoes and stood on Mrs Duffy’s footrest to see herself in the mirror above the fireplace. She pushed kirby grips into the back of her hair to secure her starched cap in place. Beth was the shortest, and without the footrest all she could see in the mirror were her eyebrows. ‘I’m with Sister Tapps on ward four – old Tappsy. Nurse Tanner is with the new sister, Sister Paige, on three and then I have to go on to nights. Dana would have been with me, but seeing as she’s over in Ireland, I’m all on my own.’
Mrs Duffy rubbed her chapped hands together to loosen her stiff fingers and chose to ignore Beth’s plea for pity. She was missing her friend Dana – they all were. She would happily give Beth all the sympathy she required, if it came to it, but she doubted there would be any need. Everyone knew that old Tappsy was the softest and kindest ward sister in St Angelus. Beth was calm and contained and got along with life without fuss. Mrs Duffy was certain she’d enjoy working with the woman everyone loved.
‘It’s just nerves,’ she said. ‘And you the most confident one and all. You’re always the same on your first day on a new ward. Sister Paige, now… Well, would you believe it? It seems like only five minutes ago she was Probationer Paige. She was one of mine, you know, began her training days here and lived in at Lovely Lane. She was in Nurse Baker’s room. Such a lovely young lady. I’m surprised she made it to sister and some young man didn’t persuade her to give it all up, after what happened. Have you met her yet? She was staff nurse on ward three for a while, and before that she was with Tappsy herself, so take note. I don’t think I’m giving away any secrets here, but all the staff nurses who train under Sister Tapps make the best ward sisters. Everyone knows that. But Sister Paige, now there’s a sad story that not many know, and look at the poor life she lives now.’
Beth shook her head as she stepped down from the footrest, grabbing the mantelpiece with one hand as she did, and smoothing the front of her apron with the other, to keep it away from the flames that were now leaping up the chimney. Her shins stung with the heat.
‘What do you mean? What happened to Sister Paige?’
Usually the most kindly in all situations, Mrs Duffy was most definitely short of comforting words today, turning Sister Paige into a saint in a few short sentences and making Beth even more nervous about being on Tappsy’s ward. She hated the way she felt when she started on a new ward and she wasn’t best pleased that Mrs Duffy had found her out. Beth was the bossy, organized list-maker. The others depended on her, and yet she knew that Pammy would breeze down to breakfast like it was just any other day, even as Beth felt sick to the stomach.
‘What is Tappsy like then? Everyone tells me she is lovely, but she might not like me.’ Beth’s voice was by now almost a wail.
Mrs Duffy ignored Beth’s question and continued with her praise of Sister Paige. ‘Oh, Sister Paige, she would take the eyes right out of your head, she would. She’s such a beauty. A real looker, and a personality to match. I have never heard anyone say a bad word about her, but then there’s always a little more sympathy for those with a broken heart.’
‘Really,’ said Beth as she retrieved her spectacles from the breakfast table and carefully slipped them through her hair, under her cap and over her ears. It peeved her that not only was she the only one who wore glasses but she also had curly hair that suffered greatly in the damp Mersey mist. ‘She could be as ugly as Methuselah and I would still rather be on her ward with Pammy, especially as it’s Christmas. And there’s safety in numbers.’
‘Nurse Harper, that’s not like you!’
The reproach missed its mark – Beth’s curiosity had been aroused. ‘Anyway, what do you mean, “more sympathy for a broken heart”?’
Mrs Duffy blushed. The familiarity that had built between herself and Beth had caused her to drop her guard and she was instantly embarrassed by her faux pas. She turned her back to Beth as she reached for the sideboard and prepared to lift the large bread board over to the table. ‘Is Nurse Tanner up and out of her bed yet? She can’t be late on the first day.’
Beth knew Mrs Duffy was changing the subject and quickly switched tack. ‘Hang on,’ she said as she rushed to Mrs Duffy’s side and took the bread board from her, ‘let me take that. Is it a recent broken heart?’ She set the bread board down in the middle of the scrubbed wooden table.
‘Oh now, look, I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Clearly agitated, she began smoothing down the front of her apron.
Beth felt instantly guilty and placed an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. I’m a right grump today. I’m always the same on my first day on a new ward – you know what I’m like. But I would never betray a confidence, you know that. I’m not a gossip.’
Mrs Duffy curled her arm around Beth’s waist and gave it a light squeeze. ‘Oh, don’t I just know that,’ she said and she pulled out one of the dining chairs and eased herself down. It had not been lost on Beth that Mrs Duffy was beginning to show her age.
The room suddenly filled with the sound of a shrill whistle. For the nurses getting ready upstairs, this was their last morning alert. It followed their own alarms, most of which went off at six thirty. The grandfather clock on the stairs chimed at quarter to and then the dock klaxons went off at seven. If they were not up, dressed and washed by the time the kettle whistle shrilled into every room in the home at seven ten, they risked being late.
Beth knew that the stairs would resound with the clatter of a dozen pairs of feet rushing down for breakfast in approximat
ely three minutes. She hurried down the step from the morning room to the back kitchen to turn down the gas under the kettle. ‘Stay there,’ she said over her shoulder to Mrs Duffy. ‘I will fill the pot. You tell me more.’
‘There’s nothing to tell really,’ replied Mrs Duffy as the whistle died and she heard the slosh of the water being poured into the huge enamel pot. ‘It isn’t a secret – nothing scandalous at all. It was just very sad, actually. Very, very sad.’ She heard the lid being rammed on to the teapot, the oven doors being opened and closed and then the scuttle of Beth’s feet as she came back in and pulled out the chair next to her.
‘Don’t worry,’ Beth said as she placed her hand over Mrs Duffy’s. ‘I lit the grill while I was there – it’s not ready yet – and I slid your bacon trays into the oven. Go on, tell me more.’
Mrs Duffy glanced towards the door and the foot of the stairs, then smiled at Beth. They had just two minutes at the most before the first door on the upper landing banged open. ‘Well, as I say, it isn’t anything really. Staff Nurse Paige – oh dear me, I mean Sister Paige – she and her young man, they were very much in love, and a nicer pair you would never meet.’
Beth grinned to herself. Mrs Duffy said this about Pammy and Anthony, Victoria and Roland, Dana and Teddy…
‘It was the war. They got engaged before he left and Matron, she allowed her the time off to see him off at Lime Street station, but he never came back. North Africa.’
Beth being an army daughter, Mrs Duffy knew she didn’t need to say any more than simply ‘North Africa’ for her to understand.
The atmosphere in the room dipped as she took out her rosaries from her apron pocket. ‘He died just before Christmas too. Everyone thought that because Sister Paige was so young at the time she would go on to meet someone else, but, over the years, I have heard nurses here say that she just hasn’t been interested. When she left Lovely Lane to live back at home and look after her mother, I thought to myself, well then, that’s it, isn’t it, for the poor girl. I don’t like to be speaking ill of anyone, but when I met her mother, I understood right away why Sister Paige had chosen to live in here. I would be leaving home myself if I had a mother like that. And on the day she had to go back home, well, she stood in this room with me, just like me and you are now, and oh, how she cried. As much as she had when she heard the awful news about her David.’
‘Gosh, why was that?’ asked Beth, calculating that she had maybe another minute to get the rest of the story. But she was wrong. They both heard a van pull up outside and both guessed it belonged to Jake, the under-porter.
‘Well now, he’s late today,’ said Mrs Duffy as she stood up. ‘Listen, don’t you be telling anyone what I said, or worrying about Sister Tapps and the other nurses. They won’t be having a laugh a minute with Sister Paige – she won’t stand for any nonsense, mark my words, and Nurse Tanner will find her firm but fair, you wait and see.’
She walked over to the towering wooden front door, turned the brass knob and pulled it swiftly open to reveal Jake, and Bryan, one of the porter’s lads, dragging a large Christmas tree up the limestone steps. Her face lit up. ‘Oh, would you look! Here comes the tree and it’s bigger than ever.’
Beth stood in the cold by her side, her arms folded against the biting wind, and she couldn’t help but smile at the joy on Mrs Duffy’s face. She and the other Lovely Lane nurses were the closest Mrs Duffy had to a family. They were ‘her nurses’, as she always called them. She cared for them, fussed over them to the point of distraction, and at times drove them all mad. In return, they were well aware of what was required to make her happy, and that included allowing her to put their washing through – complaining as she did so. When they returned from a split shift or in the evening at the end of a very long day shift, a little pile of ironing would be perched on the end of each bed, immaculate and pressed to perfection. No nurse on nights went to bed without a hot-water bottle and a good breakfast and she was woken at 4 p.m. with a tray of tea and some homemade biscuits or a scone. Letters were posted, jumpers knitted, and cakes baked – the best many of them had ever tasted. Mrs Duffy was a treasure and Beth and the others knew it only too well. She slipped her arm around Mrs Duffy’s shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘Can we decorate it together?’
‘Can you manage, boys?’ Mrs Duffy opened the front door wide against the wall. ‘We can, Nurse Harper. Sure, why would I want to do it alone? There’s no fun in that, is there, and believe me, I know. I decorate my own little tree every year in my parlour. ’Tis a miserable affair, but we have to keep up standards, don’t we now.’ Their conversation about Sister Paige’s sadness had been dispelled; the ghostly legacy of the war banished. ‘Look at the tree, isn’t it lovely?’ she said, using the arrival of a puffing Jake at the top of the steps as a distraction.
‘Where do you want it, Mrs Duffy?’ Jake asked.
‘Same place as usual, please, Jake. In front of the bay window in the nurses’ lounge.’
Jake and Bryan shot each other a look of dismay as they both bent down and lifted the ten-foot tree on to their shoulders.
‘I saw that!’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘Did you think I wanted it on the top of the steps outdoors? Now what use would that be? Would you have me carry it meself? Get away with you now. I’m sure a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich will take that frown from your face, Jake. And you, Bryan.’
‘This is only the first one, Mrs Duffy,’ said Jake apologetically. ‘We have twenty-one just like this one to deliver to the wards and outpatients, and one for the main entrance at St Angelus. Matron spares no expense at Christmas.’
Pammy, followed by some of the probationer nurses, clattered down the stairs and arrived in the hallway, which quickly became filled with squeals of delight at the sight of the tree.
‘Ooh, can we help decorate it, please, Mrs Duffy?’ asked one of the new probationers.
‘Nurse Harper has already asked and I have said yes, of course we can. I will make the first batch of mince pies for us to have while we do it, will I? I think we need to make an occasion of it.’
‘I love Christmas,’ said Pammy. ‘I can bang out a few carols on the piano in the lounge as well. We all need to keep rehearsing our singing for the concert on Christmas Eve.’
‘I wonder if we will begin our day on children’s decorating the wards, if Jake is delivering the trees?’ Beth said to Pammy.
‘I read in the Nursing Times that they’re running a competition for the best-decorated wards,’ said Celia Forsyth as she led the way into the morning room. She was the only nurse to have been unhappy about the arrival of Scamp, which she felt had resulted in there being less bacon at breakfast. She always made a point of getting to the table first, so as not to miss out. One of the same intake as Pammy and Beth, she was very definitely not part of the inner circle. She lorded it over every new set of probationers, acting as though she were Matron herself and, despite coming a cropper every single time, she had still to learn her lesson.
‘Let’s hope Sister Paige is feeling competitive,’ said Pammy. ‘I fancy entering that. But only if we stand a chance of winning. And what better wards to be working on at Christmas than children’s.’
‘Blimey, who’s competitive now?’ said Beth. ‘But I quite agree. No point in entering something unless you can win.’
Pammy grabbed a piece of toast from a plate on the table and began to speak with her mouth full. ‘There was also an article on how not allowing parents to see their children when they’re in hospital has a detrimental impact on the children’s wellbeing. Honestly, I can think of some kids in our street who would have benefited from being kept away from their parents.’
‘Everyone’s talking about it,’ said Beth matter-of-factly. And she was right: the debate had reached Westminster as well as the homes of families across Britain, and campaign groups were applying pressure on hospital matrons to relax the rules, hospital by hospital. The negative effect of this was that the competency and humanity of hospital
matrons was being called into question, and for the first time ever there was a discussion about whether matrons really had the necessary skills to run a modern post-war hospital.
The front door opened again, sending a blast of icy wind down the hall, and framed against the light stood Sister Emily Haycock. ‘Morning, Mrs Duffy,’ she called out. ‘Morning, nurses.’
‘Oh, would you get in here and close that door,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘It’s hard enough to heat these big rooms without the door being left open. It’s like Lime Street in here with all the coming and going.’
Emily grinned and did as she was told. She might be the director of nursing, but she was still one of Mrs Duffy’s nurses when she walked through the door of the Lovely Lane home.
‘Come away to the table, the nurses are just getting down to breakfast.’
Emily untied the headscarf from under her chin, undid the buttons on her coat and hung it on the hall stand, and made her way to the morning room. As she stepped inside, the sight that greeted her warmed her heart. The nurses were bustling around, jostling each other for a moment in front of the mirror to fix their caps, and the room had a pink glow to it from their uniforms. The scrubbed table was heaving with bacon, buttered toast, tea and milk. Scamp was hiding underneath it and his tail thumped the floor hard. He was desperate to slip out and greet Emily, but if he did that, Mrs Duffy would remember he was there and banish him to the yard, where she made him spend meal times. There was bacon, this he could smell. All he had to do was rest his head on a foot and a piece of bacon rind would appear. The chance of a bit of bacon won out over the prospect of an affectionate stroke from Emily and he stayed put.
Pammy was the first to spot Emily standing in the doorway as she fixed her cap in the mirror. ‘Sister Haycock,’ she exclaimed, ‘you haven’t been here for ages.’
There was an awkward silence as everyone glanced at Mrs Duffy. Mrs Duffy knew, of course, that Emily Haycock and Dessie Horton were walking out together – indeed, she was looking forward to getting her best hat out for the wedding – but, like Matron, she had no idea that Emily had more or less moved in with Dessie. Everybody else, from the hospital maids to the Lovely Lane nurses knew this, but Emily was determined that Mrs Duffy and Matron should remain in the dark.
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