Nightingales on Call

by Donna Douglas

  Alf’s gaze fixed on Dora, pinning her. ‘Your sister likes a secret,’ he said softly.

  Dora’s legs buckled, but she forced herself to face him. He was never going to see her cowering and scared ever again. She was more angry than frightened, angry that he still had so much power over her.

  ‘Go,’ she said. ‘Go back to wherever it is you came from. I don’t want you anywhere near my family, do you understand?’

  Alf sighed. ‘If that’s what you really want—’

  He turned to go, but Bea ran after him. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Don’t go, Dad! You belong with us. We need you. Mum needs you. Please stay. I’ll talk to Mum, I promise.’

  ‘Let him go,’ Dora said, holding on to Bea’s sleeve as Alf shuffled down the street.

  Bea wriggled free of her grasp, shooting her a filthy look. ‘I hope you’re happy now?’ she spat. ‘You’re the one keeping this family apart, Dora. We’d all be happy if it wasn’t for you!’

  ‘Bea!’

  ‘Get lost!’

  Dora watched her sister running down the street after Alf. He wouldn’t go far, Dora thought. He’d get to the next corner, and then he’d let the girl persuade him to stay.

  She fought the urge to run after her sister. Bea would never understand because she didn’t have the same fear of him that Dora did. Alf had never laid a hand on her youngest sister. Bea had never known what it was like to lie awake at night, dry-mouthed with fear, dreading the sound of his footsteps outside her door.

  And Dora could never explain. Because to do so would mean betraying a secret she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.

  She was still very shaken when she returned to her room at the student nurses’ home. Millie was there, sitting up in bed, poring over her textbooks. She looked up at Dora in surprise.

  ‘Are you all right, Doyle? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’re trembling.’

  ‘I said, I’m all right!’ Dora snapped. She saw her friend’s hurt look, and regretted it instantly. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

  ‘You should see Sister Sutton for an aspirin.’

  ‘I’ll be right as rain when I’ve had a good night’s sleep.’

  But she knew that would never happen. Dora lay awake most of the night, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, too terrified to go to sleep in case the nightmare came back. Why had she ever imagined she had overcome her fear? It was still there, lurking in the shadows, just waiting to pounce.

  Everything would be all right, she tried to tell herself. Her mother would never take Alf Doyle back in a million years.

  Dora desperately wished Nick was there. She knew she could never bring herself to tell him about Alf, but she felt safer when he was around.

  ‘I hate to ask, but you and Mother have worked on so many charity committees together, and I know she considers you a great friend. It wouldn’t be for long, but she really needs somewhere to stay, just until we’re back on our feet . . . I see. No, I appreciate that . . . Thank you, anyway . . .’

  Lucy put the telephone receiver down, just as her godfather entered the library.

  ‘Another rejection?’ he said.

  Lucy nodded. ‘They would love to help, but with things being as they are . . .’ she sighed. ‘It’s strange how people who couldn’t wait to come to our parties and spend the summer with us in Antibes have suddenly become unavailable now we’re broke.’

  ‘There’s nothing like a scandal to help you find out who your real friends are,’ Gordon agreed.

  ‘We don’t seem to have any friends, real or otherwise.’ Lucy stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. She had been calling her parents’ friends all morning, begging them for help. ‘It’s not as if I’m asking for charity. I only want to find Mother somewhere temporary to live, until our business affairs are sorted out.’

  Gordon patted her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry all this has fallen to you, my dear.’

  ‘It’s all right. I can’t see Mother doing it anyway.’ It was nearly noon and Clarissa was still in her room, asleep with a silk mask over her eyes.

  ‘I just wish the bank had been more amenable.’

  ‘I know,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I realised they would want their money, but I didn’t think they would spring into action quite so quickly.’ She gazed past Gordon towards the hall, where a pair of removal men in brown overalls were shifting the Chippendale cabinet out of the door. ‘I daresay the neighbours are having a field day, aren’t they?’

  ‘I’m sure they’re very sympathetic.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘Sympathetic? I doubt it, Uncle Gordon. Be honest, how many of them are watching and thinking it’s about time the upstart Lanes got their comeuppance?’

  Jameson appeared in the doorway. It was strange to see him in his everyday suit and not the black tailcoat he usually wore.

  ‘I’ll be off now, Miss Lucy,’ he said gruffly.

  She rose and went over to him. ‘Are you the last to leave?’

  ‘Yes, Miss. There’s only Higgins left, and she and I are sharing a taxi to the station.’

  Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Jameson had been the family butler since she was a small child. She couldn’t imagine not seeing his face at the front door, or hearing his footsteps in the hall.

  She took a deep breath. Her mother would be most disappointed in her if she lost control now. Lucy went to the library desk and picked up an envelope. ‘I’ve written you a cheque in lieu of notice.’

  ‘Oh, no, Miss Lucy.’ Jameson shook his head. ‘I couldn’t take it. Not with things being as they are.’

  ‘Nonsense, Jameson, we owe it to you.’ She tried to press the envelope into his hand but he wouldn’t take it.

  ‘No, Miss Lucy, it wouldn’t be right.’ He straightened his shoulders, and Lucy saw tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. ‘I don’t want any money. I’m just sorry I have to leave in these circumstances.’

  ‘I’m sorry too, Jameson. But we couldn’t ask you to go on working for nothing, could we?’ Lucy forced a bright smile.

  ‘I suppose not, Miss Lucy.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Will you say goodbye to your mother for me? Please convey my best wishes, and tell her I hope it’s not long before your – situation improves.’

  ‘Thank you, Jameson.’ Lucy held herself rigid, listening to his footsteps crossing the hall for the last time. And then the front door closed and he was gone.

  Lucy let out the breath she’d been holding. ‘Well, I don’t think our situation can get much worse!’ she said. ‘It’s too bad of Mother not to come down and say goodbye. Jameson is practically part of the family.’

  ‘You mustn’t be too hard on Clarissa,’ Gordon said. ‘She’s finding it all very difficult.’

  ‘She’s finding it difficult? She hasn’t been on the telephone all morning, begging for a roof over her head.’ There was a crash in the hall as one of the removal men dropped a tea chest full of porcelain. ‘Speaking of which, I suppose I’d better make some more calls before those men take the telephone away too!’

  Her mother came downstairs just before lunch. At least she had managed to dress and make herself look presentable, Lucy was relieved to see.

  ‘Have you had a nice rest, Mother?’ she asked.

  ‘As if anyone could rest with such a racket going on!’ Clarissa shuddered delicately. She looked around at the half-empty room. ‘How depressingly bare it all looks, now the bank has finished taking its pound of flesh.’ She turned to Lucy, her smile brittle. ‘Never mind, I’m sure we shall get used to it. Shall we have some lunch?’

  She went to ring the bell then stopped, her face falling. ‘Of course,’ she faltered. ‘They’ve gone too, haven’t they? Just like everything else.’

  Lucy got to her feet. ‘I’ll make us a sandwich, shall I?’

  ‘I don’t think I want anything after all.’

  ‘You have to e
at, Mother. Let’s go and see what’s in the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh, do stop it, Lucy! I feel like I’m on some kind of ghastly camping trip.’

  She watched her mother sink gracefully into a chair, fingers pressed to her temples. Perhaps Uncle Gordon was right, and Lucy was being too hard on her. She had forgotten how helpless her mother was, after being waited on hand and foot for so many years.

  ‘I have some good news,’ Lucy said brightly. ‘I’ve found us somewhere to live.’

  Her mother looked up. ‘Where?’

  ‘Your cousin Antonia has offered us a very nice flat in town.’

  Lady Clarissa pulled a face. ‘I do hope you haven’t been going around cap in hand to all my friends and relatives? I really don’t think I could bear that.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Lucy lied. ‘But Cousin Antonia was kind enough to ring up and offer us a place, and I thought it would be rude to refuse.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ her mother sighed. ‘Where is this flat?’

  ‘Kentish Town.’

  Her mother stared at her in horror. ‘Kentish – you mean, North London?’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, we couldn’t consider living in such a place. How would we entertain? Who would come and visit?’

  Why does that matter, when all our friends have abandoned us? Lucy wanted to reply. But she could see her mother was already trembling on the verge of one of her rages.

  Clarissa got up and poured herself a large gin. ‘I know why Antonia is doing this,’ she muttered. ‘She’s always been jealous of me, and this is her way of putting me down. She’s doing it to show how superior she is.’

  Lucy stared down at her hands. ‘Superior or not, at least it’s a place to stay,’ she said. ‘Let’s start to pack, shall we?’

  Lucy stayed overnight with her mother and returned to the Nightingale early the following morning.

  She felt guilty at how relieved she was to see the wrought-iron gates of the hospital ahead of her. Her mother’s depression and despair weighed heavily on her.

  But she wasn’t looking forward to going back on the ward either. It was the first time Lucy had shown her face in the hospital since the scandal of her father’s disappearance broke, and she was worried that everyone would be talking about her. She couldn’t bear the idea that they might be laughing at her, or worse, pitying her.

  Fortunately Dora and Millie had already left when Lucy reached their room. She changed quickly into her uniform and reported to Parry. As she passed down the passageways, she could feel heads turning in her direction and a tide of whispers following her. But Lucy kept her head up high and her eyes fixed straight ahead. She wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her looking shaken.

  Appearances were everything, as her mother would say.

  Sister Parry treated Lucy as if she had never been away, and sent her straight off to prepare a linseed poultice for a small girl with pleurisy. Lucy was grateful for the ward sister’s lack of emotion. If Sister Parry had gushed or asked her how she was feeling, she might have crumbled. As it was, she was proud of her composure as she stirred the linseed and boiling water in the bowl. She was doing very well, keeping herself together.

  And no one here had said anything either. There had been no whispers, no curious sideways looks.

  As she spread the linen out on the board, Lucy started to wonder if she’d been worrying over nothing. Perhaps no one on Parry knew or even cared about her father?

  But then, as she was spooning the linseed mixture on to the linen, she heard two pros whispering on the other side of the door.

  ‘Did you see her?’ Hilda Ross was saying. ‘Like butter wouldn’t melt. I don’t know if I could be that hard-faced if my father had done something so shameful.’

  Lucy tensed, gripping the spatula.

  ‘And she gives herself so many airs and graces too, doesn’t she?’ Hilda went on. ‘Acting as if she’s better than the rest of us. I don’t know how she has the nerve.’

  ‘I know! That’s what’s so shocking, don’t you think?’ Effie O’Hara’s lilting Irish voice joined in. ‘My sister Katie said she was always too big for her boots, even when they were pros.’

  ‘Well, I reckon this will bring her down a peg or two,’ Hilda said. ‘She won’t be able to lord it over the rest of us now.’

  ‘She’d better not try!’

  Lucy froze. Part of her wanted to throw open the door and confront them; the other wanted to run away and hide, and never come out.

  ‘What are you two laughing about?’ She heard Dora’s voice then, and her heart sank even further.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Then O’Hara ventured, ‘We were talking about Nurse Lane.’

  ‘Gossiping, you mean?’

  ‘We were just discussing what was in the newspaper,’ O’Hara insisted stubbornly.

  ‘I don’t care if it was up in lights in Piccadilly Circus,’ Dora said. ‘You’ve still got no business talking about a senior like that. And if you’ve got time to stand there gossiping like a pair of fishwives, you obviously don’t have enough to do. O’Hara, you can go and clean the bathrooms. Ross, you can help with the nappy round. That should keep you nice and busy.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘And if I hear either of you say another word about this, I will tell Sister,’ Dora went on. ‘Remember, Lane is a senior, and should be treated with respect.’

  ‘Yes, Nurse,’ O’Hara mumbled.

  Their footsteps faded down the ward and Lucy finished making the poultice, her mind still grappling with what she had just heard.

  Uncle Gordon had said there was nothing like a scandal to let you find out who your friends were. And it looked as if he had been right.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ANNA PADGETT WAS complaining about Jess again.

  ‘I know she’s taken it,’ she said, as they queued for the bathroom on Monday morning. ‘She denies it, but I can see it in her face.’

  Effie sighed. ‘We’re not talking about that bottle of scent again, are we?’

  ‘It’s not just any scent, it’s Midnight In Paris. But, no, that’s not what we’re talking about,’ Anna replied huffily. ‘Now my brooch has gone missing.’

  ‘You mean that ugly one shaped like a cat? Why would anyone want to steal that?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I? Out of spite, I expect. Or because she’s a thief and can’t help herself. And it isn’t ugly, by the way,’ Anna told her.

  ‘Jess isn’t a thief either,’ Effie said.

  ‘Oh, well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? What with her being a particular friend of yours.’

  The queue shuffled forward, and Effie finally reached a basin. Jess might be her friend, but Effie hadn’t seen much of her since she’d passed PTS. She had been too busy finding her feet on the ward, and spending time with Hugo. She was guiltily aware she still owed Jess a night out after abandoning her at the last minute.

  ‘Friend or not, I know Jess isn’t a thief,’ she insisted.

  But there was no convincing Anna Padgett. ‘I’m going to be watching her,’ she said. ‘I’ll catch her out sooner or later, you’ll see.’

  It was always a tearing rush to get washed, dressed, finish breakfast and report for duty before seven o’clock. Effie screeched through the double doors with seconds to spare, her shoes skidding on the linoleum.

  ‘You’re late,’ Lucy Lane snapped. ‘There’s a pile of bedpans waiting for you in the sluice. And make sure you clean inside the handles this time. I’ll be checking,’ she warned.

  I bet you will, Effie thought as she stomped off to the sluice. Far from being humbled by her fall from grace, Lucy had become even more short-tempered and unbearable.

  Effie was up to her elbows in hot soapy water when she heard Hugo’s voice outside the sluice-room door. She perked up immediately. Abandoning the bedpans, she wiped her hands on her apron and went to the door to see him. She knew she would be in trouble if she was caught, but Sister Parry wasn’t on duty
for another twenty minutes and Effie was sure she could risk a quick hello. It had been nearly a week since she’d seen him.

  By the time she stuck her head out of the door Hugo was at the far end of the ward, talking to Frances.

  ‘Make way!’ Hilda came towards her, arms full of precariously balanced bedpans. ‘Quick, before I drop this lot.’

  Effie stepped aside automatically to let her pass, her gaze still fixed on Hugo and Frances.

  ‘What’s Hugo doing here at this hour?’ she asked. He wasn’t known as an early riser; he’d often boasted to Effie about missing lectures because he’d stayed up all night playing cards.

  ‘God knows. Maybe he wants to impress Mr Hobbs by being an eager beaver for once?’ Hilda put the bedpans down with a clatter.

  Frances made a comment, and Hugo laughed. Jealousy shot through Effie as she watched them both, their dark heads tilted close together.

  ‘They seem very pally?’ she commented.

  Hilda came to stand beside her. ‘They’re probably just planning their next prank. You know what they’re like, always having fun at someone else’s expense.’

  Usually mine, Effie thought. She had forgiven Hugo for locking her in the linen cupboard, but couldn’t forget Frances’ part in it.

  ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t take much notice if I were you.’ Hilda shrugged. ‘Frances may be his partner in crime, but you’re the one he’s taking to the ball, aren’t you?’

  Only because I forced him into it, Effie thought miserably.

  ‘You there!’ She flinched as Lucy Lane appeared out of nowhere, her face like thunder. ‘Why are you standing around gossiping when there are bedpans to wash? And have you done those handles yet? I’m going to inspect them, and if I find they’re dirty . . .’

  She bustled past Effie, who trailed miserably after her into the sluice. Why was it always Effie who ended up in trouble? Hugo and Frances could be locked in a passionate embrace at the other end of the ward, and Lucy would still only notice the dirty bedpan handles.

  Sister Parry arrived on the ward at half-past seven, took the report from the night nurse and then handed out the worklists.

  Effie was delighted when she was told to set the trolley for the dressings round. At last, some proper nursing! It made a change from endless cleaning and scrubbing.