Nightingales on Call

by Donna Douglas

  Something scuttled past in the gloom, inches from her foot. Effie let out a shriek and quickened her pace, her shoes skidding on the slimy cobbles.

  They emerged into a busy market, a narrow street lined with stalls and teeming with people. It was a welcome burst of noise and activity after the deadened silence of the alleyway. Effie had never seen anything so lively and colourful. On one side people picked up and argued over second-hand clothes spread out on canvas sheets across the pavement. On the other were stalls selling fruit and veg and all kinds of seafood. The sharp, salty smell mingled with the aroma of fried onions.

  It was all so overwhelming, Effie found it hard to keep her eyes fixed on the boy’s cap as it bobbed along ahead of her, cutting easily through the crowd which swiftly closed behind like waves in the wake of a ship, pushing her further and further back.

  ‘Oh, please wait!’ she called out, but her voice was lost in the din. The boy glanced back over his shoulder, searching for her. Effie waved to him and he nodded, but a moment later he was gone.

  Effie craned her neck, looking this way and that, but he had disappeared.

  She chewed her lip. How could she be so stupid? Her mother was always telling her off for being a dreamer, and now she had managed to get herself totally lost.

  She searched for the boy for a few minutes, but it was no use. She sat down on the doorstep of a shop and tried to think. The best thing to do was to stay put and wait for him to find her, she decided. Wandering around, they could miss each other for hours in a crowded place like this.

  Jess hadn’t meant to visit the bookstall again, but once she reached the market she couldn’t help herself.

  The stallholder’s son was there, dawdling against the wall, smoking as usual. He smiled and dropped his cigarette on to the cobbles when he saw her.

  ‘Hello again,’ he greeted her cheerily. ‘Read any good books lately?’

  ‘I might have.’

  He reached under the stall and brought out the copy of Great Expectations. ‘You know this is still here, waiting for you.’

  ‘No one’s bought it yet, then?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m keeping it especially for you.’

  She tightened her lips to stop herself from smiling. ‘And I told you, I don’t take anything I ain’t paid for.’

  ‘Suit yourself. Are you always this contrary, Jess Jago?’

  She stiffened. ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘I might have been asking around about you.’

  Jess glanced over her shoulder at the other stallholders. ‘I’m sure everyone’s been falling over themselves to tell you what my family’s like?’

  He shrugged. ‘They have, but I don’t take any notice. I prefer to make up my own mind about people.’ He sent her a long, considering look. ‘My name’s Sam, by the way. Sam Cordwainer.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware I’d asked.’

  ‘No, but I thought I’d tell you anyway. So you know what to call me when I take you out.’

  Jess was so surprised she couldn’t help laughing. ‘You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?’

  ‘I think a lot of you.’ He cocked his head. ‘So what do you say? Can I take you out one night?’

  Jess picked up a book and flicked through it for something to do. ‘Can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘But we haven’t set a date yet!’

  ‘Whenever it is, I’ll still be busy.’

  Sam grinned. ‘Playing hard to get, are you?’

  ‘If that’s what you want to think.’ She closed the book and handed it back to him. ‘Anyway, I can’t stand round here talking to you all day long. I’ve got more important things to do with my time.’

  ‘If you say so. But you’ll be back,’ he predicted.

  ‘Of course I will.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘This is the only second-hand bookstall in Bethnal Green.’

  As she walked away, Sam called after her, ‘You’ll see. You won’t be able to resist my charm for ever!’

  Of course she didn’t have anything to do with her time except wander around the market, trying to stay out of Sam’s line of sight. As she wandered among the stalls Jess kept sneaking looks over at him. He was standing behind his display of books, that soppy grin of his all over his face, charming the customers. She noticed how he perked up whenever a woman went by, how his gaze followed them. They didn’t seem to be falling for his daft patter any more than Jess had.

  She bought an apple turnover from the baker’s, and started back across the market. It had started to rain again, sending cold drips down the back of her collar. She abandoned her plan to go to the park and decided to hurry back to her room instead. With any luck she could finish another chapter of her book before it was time to return to duty.

  She was heading down Bethnal Green Road when she heard a commotion coming from outside the pie and mash shop on the corner.

  ‘But I’m waiting for someone!’ a girl’s voice said.

  ‘Then you’ll have to wait somewhere else. You’ve been sat on my doorstep this past half hour.’

  As Jess drew closer, she saw the proprietor of the pie shop, a giant of a woman, towering over a young girl who sat at her feet. The girl wasn’t much older than Jess. She was wrapped in a heavy raincoat, a beret perched on top of her dripping dark curls. There was something oddly familiar about her.

  ‘But I can’t leave,’ she explained in a gentle Irish voice. ‘Otherwise the boy won’t know where to find me.’

  The woman frowned. ‘What boy?’

  ‘The one who kindly offered me directions to the Nightingale Hospital. I’m going to be a nurse there, you see. But we got separated in the crowd.’

  ‘Did you now?’ The woman folded her arms across her chest. ‘And I suppose you let him carry your bags for you, too?’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  The woman gave a shout of laughter. ‘Blimey, love, how green are you?’ she roared. ‘You didn’t lose him – he lost you. Good and proper, by the sound of it.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. Why would he—’ The girl hesitated for a moment. ‘You mean he stole my bag?’

  The woman nodded. ‘Sorry, ducks, but I reckon that’s the last you’ll see of him or your bag. Was there much in it?’

  ‘Everything I have.’ The girl’s voice was choked. ‘Oh, God, and I’ve only been in London two hours. My sisters are going to kill me!’

  Sisters! Jess suddenly realised why this girl seemed so familiar. She turned and walked back to where the Irish girl was still sitting stubbornly on the step, hugging her knees.

  ‘Excuse me, your name wouldn’t be O’Hara by any chance, would it?’ asked Jess.

  The girl looked up, her blue eyes swimming with tears. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I work at the hospital. I recognised you from a photograph your sister has.’ Jess searched her memory, mentally scanning the list she had seen pinned up in the hall. ‘You must be – Euphemia?’

  ‘Effie.’ The girl’s face brightened and she wiped her face on her sleeve. She scrambled to her feet and held out her hand. She was as tall and leggy as a colt, and towered over Jess. ‘I’m pleased to meet you . . .?’

  ‘Jess.’ She felt awkward as she shook the other girl’s hand. ‘I can show you the way to the Nightingale, if you like?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Thank gawd for that!’ The shopkeeper rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘I thought she was going to be stuck on my doorstep till Kingdom Come!’

  ‘But what about my bag?’ Effie said.

  ‘There’s not much we can do about that for now.’ Jess shrugged. ‘But let’s get you to the Nightingale, shall we?’

  Effie cheered up on the way to the hospital. She bounced along beside Jess, chattering all the while. ‘I can’t wait to see my sisters,’ she said, her sadness seemingly forgotten. ‘Katie’s written me so many letters, telling me all about the larks she gets up to. It sounds so much more fun than our village in Ireland.’ She
turned to Jess. ‘Are you a nurse too?’

  Jess lowered her gaze. ‘No, I’m a maid in the students’ home.’

  She stiffened, waiting for Effie to turn snooty. But she just smiled and said, ‘So we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then? That’s grand. I was worried I wouldn’t have any friends, but now I’ve met you.’

  And I daresay you won’t want to know me in a week or two, Jess thought. ‘I expect you’ll make lots of new friends in your set.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Effie replied. ‘I really want to have some fun.’

  Jess thought about the grey, exhausted faces that greeted her in the hall every evening, and the weary feet that could barely drag themselves up the stairs. ‘I think you’ll be expected to work hard, too.’

  ‘Ah, I’m sure it won’t be that difficult,’ Effie dismissed.

  They approached the gates to the Nightingale, and Jess felt a touch of pride as Effie admired the grand Georgian building. ‘It looks so much bigger than when I came for my interview,’ she said. ‘Although I suppose then I was too nervous to notice anything!’

  Jess directed her to the Porters’ Lodge to sign in.

  ‘And where are your bags?’ Mr Hopkins asked, looking around. ‘Or will your things be coming later?’

  Effie’s lip trembled. ‘They were stolen!’ she blurted out. ‘My clothes, my shoes, my watch – everything is gone!’

  ‘Come on,’ Jess said quickly, seeing the startled expression on the Head Porter’s face. ‘Let’s get you to the nurses’ home.’

  But Effie had suddenly remembered her predicament again, and this time she couldn’t be consoled.

  ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell my sisters,’ she said. ‘I expect they’ll say it’s my fault for being foolish.’

  ‘You were trusting, not foolish,’ Jess soothed her.

  ‘Well, I wish I’d never trusted that boy, that’s for sure. But he seemed so friendly!’

  ‘You’ll have to tell the police,’ Jess said.

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ Effie nodded. ‘Katie’s boyfriend is a policeman, he’ll know what to do. And it shouldn’t be too hard to find the culprit. Not with that birthmark of his . . .’

  Jess stiffened. ‘Birthmark?’ she heard herself say faintly.

  Effie nodded. ‘Just here, on his cheek.’ She pointed to the spot. ‘Almost like a fingerprint, I’d say. Ah, now, I remember this courtyard.’ She stopped and looked around. ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that there are all these buildings behind the one at the front? It’s like a . . . what do you call it? You know, out at sea.’

  ‘An iceberg,’ Jess said faintly, her thoughts elsewhere.

  ‘That’s it. An iceberg.’ Effie stood beside the plane tree in the centre of the courtyard, gawping around at the buildings that surrounded them. ‘I’m never going to find my way around this place. I swear to God, it’s bigger than my whole village.’

  ‘You’ll get used to it.’ Jess took her sleeve, tugging her towards the archway that led to the nurses’ accommodation. ‘Right, now all you have to do is go through there and down to the end of the path, and you’ll see the students’ home straight ahead of you. You can’t miss it. I expect Sister Sutton will be looking out for you.’

  Effie stared at her, blue eyes round with dismay. ‘Aren’t you coming with me?’

  Jess shook her head. ‘I’ve just remembered, there’s someone I need to see.’

  Chapter Eight

  IT DIDN’T TAKE her long to find the culprit.

  Typical Cyril, he didn’t even have the sense to hide. Jess found him in the back yard of their tenement, going through Effie’s suitcase, his face alight with greed.

  He looked up sharply when she let herself in the back gate. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ He turned away and carried on going through the suitcase.

  ‘What’s that you got?’

  ‘It’s mine.’ He hunched his narrow shoulders over it, like a starving dog guarding a bone.

  ‘And since when have you been wearing these?’ Jess reached past him and snatched up a pair of flannel knickers. ‘You thieving little sod! You can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?’

  She elbowed him to one side and started putting the things back in the case. Cyril stared at her. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Taking this back where it belongs.’

  ‘No, you ain’t!’ He sprang at her, but Jess dodged and cuffed him round the ear. He made another grab for her, but she tripped him and he went sprawling headlong on the cobbles. He landed heavily on his knees with a yelp of pain.

  ‘Oi, what’s all the racket?’ Gladys appeared at the back door, cigarette in hand. ‘Oh, it’s you. I thought I said you weren’t welcome round here any more?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I ain’t stopping. I just came to get this.’ Jess fastened the catch on the suitcase.

  ‘It’s mine!’ Cyril whined, still clutching his knee. ‘I – I won it in a bet!’ He turned to his mother. ‘I was going to sell it, Mum, to make some money. I came by it fair and square, honest!’

  ‘Honest? Don’t make me laugh!’ Jess retorted.

  Gladys looked from one to the other, dragging on her cigarette, her rouged cheeks sucked in as if she would draw the very life out of it.

  ‘You leave that suitcase where it is,’ she said finally. ‘If my son said he didn’t nick it, then that’s good enough for me. You’re nothing but a troublemaker, Jess Jago. We don’t want you round here no more!’

  ‘All right then, if that’s what you want.’ Jess folded her arms across her chest. ‘But I’m warning you, the girl it belongs to is talking to the rozzers this very minute. She got a good look at you, don’t forget,’ she said to Cyril. ‘Shouldn’t take them too long to find a kid with a birthmark like yours round here, should it? I expect they’ll give you three months’ hard labour, at least.’

  Cyril’s gaze flew to his mother, full of alarm. ‘Mum?’

  Jess looked at her stepmother. Gladys’ mouth thinned, her eyes calculating. ‘Take the suitcase,’ she snapped.

  ‘But, Mum—’

  ‘You heard me!’ Gladys turned on Cyril. ‘Do you think I need any more trouble? My old man’s already in jail, I don’t need you behind bars too.’ She took another drag on her cigarette and aimed a stream of smoke into the air. ‘And as for you,’ she wheeled towards Jess, ‘you can sling your hook, before I set the dog on you!’

  Her stepmother’s harsh voice followed her as she dragged the case through the gate out into the alleyway. ‘You’ve forgotten where your loyalties lie, Jess Jago. You think those posh girls are bothered about you? You’re only fit to skivvy after them. You’ll never be friends, you’re not one of them. You’ll see, they won’t want to know you in the end.’

  Meanwhile, Effie was in her new room, listening to her sister Katie telling her over and over again how stupid she had been. As if she didn’t know.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ She paced around Effie as she sat miserably on the bed, eyes downcast. ‘I told you, didn’t I? I warned you. Don’t talk to strangers, I said. And what’s the first thing you did? You gave all your worldly possessions away to one!’

  ‘I thought he was helping me.’

  ‘Helping himself, you mean!’ Katie gave a derisive snort. ‘Honest to God, Effie, how could you be so daft?’

  ‘I know! You don’t have to go on about it!’ Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she was determined not to cry any more. She hardly ever cried at home. But somehow since she’d arrived in London she hadn’t been able to stop. So much for a big, exciting adventure!

  Surely today couldn’t get any worse? She had already had a bruising encounter with the Home Sister. Effie had thought Katie was exaggerating when she complained about Sister Sutton in her letters home. Effie had expected her to be like their mother, cuddly and comforting. She’d thought she might be offered tea and cake and at least a bit of sympathy after her horrible ordeal. But instead the vicious old woman had shouted at her to dry her eyes, to
ld her she didn’t have time for Irish girls and their nonsense, then ushered her to a room with instructions that she should settle in, change into her uniform and report for supper at eight o’clock. And to top it all, her stupid dog had tried to bite Effie when she tried to pet it.

  And now Katie was being awful to her, too. Back at home they’d always been best friends, much to the despair of their mother and stuffy older sisters. But Effie had hardly recognised Katie when she’d walked into their room in her prim starched uniform. London and the Nightingale had changed her. She was nearly as bossy as their big sister Bridget, and that was saying something.

  The exhaustion of her long journey overcame Effie then, and she buried her face in her hands. She heard Katie sigh, and then felt her arm come around her shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry for getting so cross with you,’ she said. ‘I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I don’t know what Mammy is going to say about this either.’

  Effie looked up sharply. ‘You can’t tell her!’

  ‘She’ll find out in the end.’

  Effie let out a despairing sigh. Katie was right; their mother might be hundreds and hundreds of miles away but she had a sixth sense where her daughters were concerned. Especially Effie.

  ‘She’ll make me come home, I know she will.’ Mammy O’Hara hadn’t wanted her to leave Killarney in the first place. Effie was her baby, the last to leave the nest. Mammy had cried every day since Effie received her acceptance letter from Matron.

  ‘All right, we won’t tell her yet,’ Katie promised. ‘But you have to be more careful, Effie.’

  ‘I – I haven’t got anything left to be careful with!’ The realisation hit her again. She had nothing to her name, no shoes, no clothes, none of the pretty dresses or the keepsakes she’d brought from home. They’d all gone. ‘Oh, Katie, what am I going to do?’

  ‘Shhh, it’s all right. I can lend you some clothes.’

  Effie eyed her sister warily. Katie was at least a head shorter than her, and a great deal plumper. Effie couldn’t imagine ever wearing one of her sister’s dresses. ‘I’ll look like a fool!’ she blurted out.