A Nightingale Christmas Wish

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish!’ The soldier laughed, and he and his mate sauntered off.

  Frannie bent down to pick up the pieces, and her friend Ruth joined her.

  ‘Take no notice of them’ she said, helping to pick up the scattered fragments. ‘They’re just ignorant.’

  ‘No, they’ve got a point,’ Frannie said. ‘That’s the problem. It’s hard to argue against standing up to someone who’s walking all over everyone else. But the thought of going to war again . . .’ She shuddered. ‘I just feel so sorry for them. I don’t want to see them go off and get killed.’

  They stood up, pulling their coats tighter around them.

  ‘Shall we call it a day?’ Ruth said.

  Frannie nodded. ‘I’ve got to get back on duty at five,’ she said. ‘And I don’t know about you, but I’m frozen to the marrow!’

  She was still cold to her bones when she went back on the ward later. Thanks heavens the maid had a nice crackling fire going, she thought as she warmed her icy fingers in front of the flames.

  ‘Sister?’ Bridget O’Hara approached her. ‘I thought you should know, Mr Campbell’s father is here.’

  Frannie frowned. ‘His father? I didn’t think he had any family?’

  ‘Apparently he has. His father has been ringing round the hospitals for days, wondering where he is.’

  ‘Well, I never. Where is he now?’

  ‘He’s waiting in your office. I thought you might want to see him?’

  ‘I do. Thank you, Staff.’

  Still shivering, Frannie made her way down the short corridor to her office. As she reached the door, she could see a man’s blurred outline through the frosted glass.

  ‘Mr Campbell?’ She said, opening the door. ‘Sorry to keep you. I’m—’

  The man turned round in his seat and she stopped talking, the greeting dying on her lips, as she found herself staring into a face she hadn’t thought she would ever see again.

  Chapter Nine

  HE ROSE TO his feet, and Frannie gasped, as if she were seeing a ghost. He stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, in his army uniform, just as he had when she’d last seen him on that railway station platform.

  ‘John?’

  There were threads of grey in his close-cropped dark hair and fine lines fanning from the corners of his green eyes, but she would have known Matthew’s best friend anywhere.

  ‘Miss Wallace?’ He frowned, uncertain. ‘Is it you?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me.’ She gave an embarrassed smile, her hand going up to touch her hair, hidden under her linen bonnet. ‘Although it’s a wonder you still recognise me, after all these years.’

  ‘I’d know you anywhere.’

  Her legs felt weak with shock and Frannie crossed the room quickly to sit behind her desk before they gave way. She motioned for John to sit down opposite her.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she marvelled. ‘Seeing you, after all these years . . . I thought you were dead,’ she said frankly. ‘When you didn’t come back to the village after the war, we all assumed—’

  ‘That I hadn’t made it?’ John said grimly. ‘I’ll admit, there were a few close calls. But then after the war I decided to re-enlist. The army was my family by then.’

  Frannie regarded him across the desk and felt very sad for the orphanage boy with no home to go to and no family to wonder what had become of him. She suddenly wished she’d looked for him, or at least mourned him. But she’d been too consumed with grieving for Matthew to give his friend a second thought.

  She felt herself drifting back to those days, and quickly dragged her thoughts back to the present. ‘You’ve seen your son?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve seen him.’ John’s tone was chilly.

  ‘I have to say, Mr Campbell led us to believe that he had no family.’

  John’s mouth twisted. ‘That sounds like Adam. We’re not close,’ he explained. ‘Having a father who’s an officer in the British Army is rather an embarrassment when you’re a dedicated pacifist, I think.’

  That was a hint of mockery in his tone that made Frannie think of the soldiers she’d encountered on Oxford Street.

  ‘How is he?’ asked John. ‘I understand there was an accident of some kind?’

  ‘Hasn’t he told you?’

  He gave a small smile. ‘As I said, we’re not close. He has never been inclined to confide in me about anything.’ He leaned forward. ‘Perhaps you could tell me what happened?’

  His face paled as Frannie explained about the accident, and the extent of Adam’s injuries. They might not have been close, but there was no doubting John’s concern for his son.

  ‘And he will recover, you say? There won’t be any permanent damage?’

  Frannie nodded. ‘As long as he’s patient, does as he’s told and allows us to look after him, he should be back on his feet soon enough.’

  ‘Patience has never been my son’s strong point. Neither has being told what to do.’

  ‘We’re beginning to realise that,’ Frannie admitted ruefully.

  John was silent for a moment, and she could see the emotion building behind his calm face. ‘But what on earth was Adam doing, racing cars around the streets in the early hours of the morning?’ he said at last.

  ‘You’d have to ask him that.’

  ‘Much good that would do me, I daresay.’ A muscle twitched in John’s jaw. ‘I’m just relieved I’ve found him at last. I’ve been ringing around the hospitals for days. I was beginning to fear the worst.’

  ‘As I said, he should make a full recovery.’ Frannie paused, then said, ‘Will your wife be coming to see him?’

  ‘My wife is dead.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’

  She tried to read John’s face, but his expression gave nothing away. She couldn’t stop staring at him as he got to his feet and put his cap back on. He looked every inch the officer, tall and strapping with his gleaming leather boots and belt. Even with her dislike of anything military, Frannie couldn’t help being impressed.

  She also couldn’t stop thinking about the boy she’d grown up with, the strong, silent young man in his rough work clothes, pushing the plough through the fields behind the heavy horses. Seeing him here made her think about Matthew again. She could picture the two of them laughing together, and it gave her a sharp pain that she hadn’t felt for many years.

  ‘I must be getting back,’ he said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Thank you for sparing the time to speak to me.’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’ Frannie followed him to her office door. ‘Are you based in London?’

  ‘For the time being. I’m staying at my club in Piccadilly while Adam is in hospital. I thought it might be best.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,’ Frannie said.

  John gave her a sad smile. ‘Then you don’t know my son,’ he said.

  As he went to leave, she said, ‘It was good to see you again, John.’

  ‘And you, Miss Wallace.’

  ‘Frannie,’ she said. ‘Please call me Frannie.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us you had a father?’ Effie asked that night as she handed Adam Campbell his cup of bedtime cocoa.

  ‘I don’t want anything to do with him.’

  ‘Why not? He seems like a nice man.’

  ‘That’s all you know, isn’t it?’

  Effie picked up the magazines Major Campbell had brought with him, and tidied them away in Adam’s locker. ‘Did you have a falling out?’ she asked.

  ‘How can you fall out with someone you barely know?’ His expression was bitter. ‘The only time he ever speaks to me is to remind me what a disappointment I am to him.’

  ‘He certainly seemed as if he cared.’

  ‘As I said, you know nothing about it.’

  ‘You never know, perhaps this will bring you together?’ Effie suggested brightly.

  ‘It’s too late for that. I told you, I want nothing to do with him.’ Adam glared into his cocoa.
‘This tastes odd. Are you sure you’re not trying to poison me?’

  ‘Don’t put ideas in my head,’ she murmured under her breath.

  His brows lifted. ‘That’s not a very caring thing to say. You’re not a very good nurse, are you?’

  ‘You’re not a very good patient.’

  ‘I suppose you’d rather I flirted with you, like the others? Don’t deny it, I’ve seen you,’ he accused. ‘You’re always laughing and joking with the patients.’

  Effie sighed. He sounded just like her sisters! ‘I’m being friendly. Time goes quicker when you’re having a laugh. You should try it sometime.’

  ‘What have I got to laugh about?’

  ‘You’re alive, for one thing. You could have died in that crash.’

  She knew she’d gone too far when she saw his face darken. ‘It might have been better if I had,’ he muttered.

  Effie stared at him, shocked. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say! And it’s ungrateful, too, to wish yourself dead when your friend is lying unconscious . . .’ She saw his stricken expression and stopped abruptly. As usual, she’d let her mouth run away with her and gone too far. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,’ she murmured.

  ‘No, you’re right,’ Adam said heavily. He looked up at her. ‘I keep asking Sister how he’s getting on, but she always says there’s no more news. He’s not going to get better, is he?’

  Effie thought about Richard Webster, lying in a coma on Male Surgical. She didn’t know a great deal about brain injuries, but she couldn’t imagine him making a full recovery after so long.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Truly, I don’t.’

  ‘It should have been me,’ Adam said. ‘Richard is a good man, a kind man. He’s never hurt a soul in his life. I should be the one who’s dying, not him.’

  ‘You mustn’t talk like that.’

  ‘Why not? He doesn’t deserve to die!’

  ‘Neither do you.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Adam’s eyes turned to green ice. ‘You don’t know anything about me, or my life. You don’t know what I’ve done.’

  Effie felt a blush rising in her cheeks. ‘I was just trying to make you feel better, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, don’t,’ he said sourly. ‘Save your Florence Nightingale act for someone who appreciates it!’

  Her friend and fellow student Jess Jago was already in their attic room when Effie returned to the students’ home that evening. Jess lay on her narrow bed, still in her uniform, arms outstretched.

  ‘I can’t move,’ she complained. ‘Sister’s had me running around all day, changing dressings and sorting out drips and drains and taking samples and testing urines, and I haven’t had time to think.’

  ‘Poor you,’ Effie sympathised. ‘You should be on Blake, it’s much more fun.’

  She went to the chest of drawers and started rummaging around inside. Jess lifted her head to look at her.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘I had some writing paper in here.’

  ‘Writing paper?’ Jess propped herself up on her elbows, weariness forgotten. ‘Who are you writing to?’

  ‘It’s for a patient, if you must know.’

  Jess’s dark brows shot up. ‘You’re writing letters to a patient? Won’t Sister Blake mind? Sister Holmes doesn’t even approve of us looking at our patients, in case they become infatuated with us.’

  Effie grinned. ‘Some chance, in this horrible old uniform! No, it’s for Mr Campbell. The young man who was in the car crash?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got a soft spot for him?’

  ‘No! Actually, he’s the most horrible man I’ve ever met. But I feel sorry for him. He seems sort of – lost.’

  ‘You do have a soft spot for him!’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Effie denied heatedly. ‘I’m just being a good nurse, that’s all.’

  ‘A good nurse doesn’t get personally involved with her patients, Nurse O’Hara,’ Jess mimicked Sister Holmes’s strict tones. ‘But it’s hard not to sometimes, isn’t it? Some of them are so sad.’

  ‘I know.’ Effie found the writing paper at last and put it beside her bed so she wouldn’t forget it. Then she set about patiently folding up all her belongings and putting them back in the drawer. The Home Sister would create merry hell if she found a pair of stockings out of place.

  ‘Like your friend Mr Campbell’s mate,’ Jess went on. ‘He’s a very sad case. Tragic, in fact.’

  Effie turned round. ‘You mean Mr Webster?’

  ‘That’s him.’ Jess shook her head. ‘Did you know he was engaged? Due to be married in the spring, apparently.’

  ‘Poor man.’ No wonder Adam Campbell felt so wretched about him.

  ‘Not much chance of that now, of course,’ Jess went on.

  ‘You never know.’

  Jess sent her a pitying look. ‘Sister Holmes doesn’t think he’ll make it to Christmas. Not that anyone’s told his fiancée that,’ she went on. ‘Poor girl comes in every day, just to sit by his bed and hold his hand. So sad.’ She sighed. ‘Still, that’s love for you, I suppose.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Effie agreed. Not that she’d ever experienced such devotion herself. In spite of her best efforts, none of her boyfriends had ever shown more than a passing interest in her.

  That was why she felt such sympathy for Adam Campbell. His girlfriend was treating him with similar indifference, and Effie knew he was breaking his heart over it.

  Not that Jess seemed to understand, when Effie explained it to her. ‘I hope you’re not getting too involved,’ she warned.

  ‘Of course not. I don’t know why you’d think that.’

  ‘Because I know you.’ Jess smiled. ‘You’re far too soft-hearted for your own good.’

  Effie frowned, irritated. ‘You sound just like my sisters!’ Why did everyone always think the worst of her?

  When she returned to the ward the following morning, she went straight to Adam’s bed. Typically, he looked put out to see her.

  ‘You again,’ he groaned.

  She smiled. ‘Did you miss me?’

  ‘Not really. You nurses are all the same to me.’

  ‘You’re a cheery soul, aren’t you?’ She reached into the bib of her apron. ‘I’ve a good mind not to give you this present.’

  He looked sideways at her. ‘A present?’

  She handed him the packet of writing paper. ‘I’ve brought this for you. So you can write to Adeline.’

  ‘You brought it for me?’ He stared at it, then at her. For a moment she thought he looked almost touched.

  Then he lifted the notepaper to his face. ‘Why does it smell of cheap scent?’ he complained.

  Effie sighed. And to think everyone imagined she would want to get involved with someone like him!

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I NEED YOUR help,’ William said.

  Helen paused halfway through pulling the red rubber mackintosh sheet off the bed. She and her brother had just finished the Gynae Outpatients’ clinic. William, a junior registrar, had taken the clinic, as the consultant Mr Cooper was away in France with his wife.

  ‘How much do you want?’ she sighed.

  William looked offended. ‘I don’t need your money, thank you very much.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.’

  ‘Do you mind? I’m not a penniless medical student any more.’

  ‘You could have fooled me. You certainly dress as if you are.’ Helen looked pointedly at his scuffed shoes. ‘So what do you want?’

  William paused. ‘The thing is, I’m in rather a sticky situation. It’s not what you think,’ he insisted, as she rolled her eyes. ‘It isn’t woman trouble this time. Well, not entirely. Anyway, the long and the short of it is, I need someone to do a duet with me in the Christmas show.’

  ‘I thought your latest girlfriend was singing with you?’

  ‘Ah, well, you see, that’s the trouble. She is no more, I’m afr
aid.’

  ‘Not another one?’ After his long love affair with an orthopaedic doctor had ended a year earlier, William had returned to his old womanising ways. Much to Helen’s dismay and to the delight of the other nurses.

  She regarded him across the consulting room. Tall and lanky, with a permanently dishevelled air and cowlick of dark hair that never seemed to lie flat, she couldn’t see what it was about him that other women found so irresistible. To her, he would always be an annoying big brother.

  ‘I know, I know,’ he sighed. ‘But it wasn’t my fault this time. She was the one who ended it, not me.’ He paused. ‘Admittedly, it was after she caught me kissing that delightful nurse on Male Medical, but all the same . . .’ He put on his appealing look, the melting dark eyes that she supposed worked a treat on other women. ‘Will you help me out, Helen? You don’t have to do much, just join in with the chorus and look pretty. You can do that, can’t you?’

  ‘The last thing I’d want to do is stand on a stage with you.’ Helen went back to stripping off the bed. ‘Why don’t you ask that delightful nurse on Male Medical?’

  ‘Delightful she may be, but her voice is as flat as a pancake.’ William grimaced. ‘Honestly, Hels, she’d make a cat sound like Dame Nellie Melba. You, on the other hand, have the voice of an angel.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Helen shook her head. ‘You can’t get round me as easily as you can your empty-headed nurses, William Tremayne.’

  ‘Want to bet?’ He grinned. ‘Please, Helen. Just this once? I’m begging you. I’ve tried everyone else.’

  ‘So I’m your last resort? Thank you very much.’

  ‘Actually, Sister Wren is my last resort. She’s been hinting.’

  Helen smiled. ‘That would serve you right. Come to think of it, Sister Wren is probably the one woman who hasn’t succumbed to your charms.’

  ‘Only because her heart belongs to Mr Cooper.’ William wrung his hands in supplication. ‘Please, Helen, even you wouldn’t be that heartless.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No promises,’ she said, but she could already feel herself weakening.