June puffed viciously on her cigarette. ‘Knowing that little sod, I expect there’s a girl involved. That’s why he’s gone, to get away from someone. He’s always been one for running away from his responsibilities, my son.’
‘That’s not true!’ Dora couldn’t help snapping back, then wished she hadn’t when she saw the surprised look on June’s face. She had no idea about Dora and Nick. If she did, it would be all over Griffin Street in no time.
‘Nick’s never run away from anything,’ she defended him stoutly.
‘He walked out on his missus, didn’t he? And he’s walked out on us, too.’
‘H-he’s gone to America,’ Danny said. ‘To f-fight Max Baer.’
June gave a harsh laugh. ‘Listen to him! Still reckons his brother’s a bleeding hero. I’ve tried telling him Nick’s done a runner and ain’t coming back but he won’t believe me.’ She shook her head pityingly.
Dora caught Danny’s look of wide-eyed distress. The boy doted on his brother, as much as Nick did on him. ‘He’ll be back, Dan,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t you go filling his head with ideas, Dora Doyle,’ June snapped. ‘The sooner he gets used to the fact that his brother’s gone for good, the better.’ She took another puff on her cigarette. ‘Talking of coming back – did I see Alf Doyle turning up a while ago? What’s he doing round here? Don’t tell me he’s come back?’ She blew a thin stream of smoke out of the corner of her mouth, towards the ceiling. ‘You wait, next thing my old man will come crawling out of the woodwork, too. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?’ She laughed so much she brought on a coughing fit.
Dora left her wheezing for breath and ushered Danny outside to where Josie was waiting for them in the back yard, scuffing the toe of her shoe mindlessly against a chipped paving slab.
It was early evening and the park gates were still open. It wasn’t the best day for a stroll – the sun had been cowering behind a heavy veil of dirty grey cloud all day, threatening rain. But Dora and Josie barely noticed the spitting drops as they sat on a bench overlooking the boating lake. Danny stood at the water’s edge, watching the ducks.
‘Alf’s staying, isn’t he?’ Josie said in a flat voice.
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘But you can’t, can you? There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing any of us can do.’ Josie aimed a pebble at the water. ‘I can see it in Mum’s eyes. She wants him back.’
‘I don’t think she does,’ Dora said. ‘But she’s confused. She just wants to do what’s best for the children.’
‘He’ll win her round in the end.’
‘Nothing’s been decided yet,’ Dora insisted. ‘Try not to worry.’
Josie was silent for a long time, aiming pebbles into the water. ‘It was here,’ she said, finally. ‘Right here that we first talked about it. Do you remember?’
‘I do.’ Up until that point, Dora had thought she was the only one to suffer Alf’s vile abuse. Until the day she realised it was happening to her younger sister too. It was then that Dora had made up her mind to stop their stepfather.
She looked at her sister. Josie was now seventeen and a young woman. But at that moment she looked just like the frightened little girl who’d plucked up the courage one day to whisper her tale of abuse.
Josie let out a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Oh, Dor, I don’t know if I can live under the same roof as him. Not again. What if he tries to – you know . . .’
Dora read the panic in her sister’s face. ‘He won’t,’ she said. ‘I won’t let him. Not this time.’
‘What can you do about it?’
I’ll kill him, Dora thought. She’d threatened him once before, but this time she would have no hesitation.
She paused for a moment, already knowing what Josie’s reaction would be to her next words. ‘We could tell Mum the truth,’ she said
‘No!’ Josie cried.
‘But if she knew what Alf was really like, there’s no chance she would ever let him back.’
‘Dora, we couldn’t. I couldn’t stand for her to know. I’d be so ashamed . . .’
‘You’ve got no reason to be ashamed, Josie. It wasn’t your fault what that monster did to you – to both of us.’ Dora put out her hand to calm her agitated sister. ‘He’s the one in the wrong, not us.’
‘You promised.’ Josie’s voice was choked. ‘You swore to me she wouldn’t ever have to know.’
‘That was before he came back, wasn’t it? When I thought we were safe.’
Once Alf was out of their lives, they had agreed their mother shouldn’t have to know what he had done to them. There was no point in dragging it up, they’d reasoned, especially when they both knew Rose would only blame herself for not protecting them.
Josie put her hands up to her face. ‘I couldn’t bear it, Dor,’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing. It would change everything.’
Dora understood. It was the same reason she herself had stayed silent for so many years. Whatever she said to Josie about it not being their fault, it didn’t take away the deep sense of shame Dora still felt.
Her mother would try to understand, she knew that. She would go on loving them no matter what. But something between them would change, Dora was certain of it. Once Rose knew, she wouldn’t be able to look at them again without thinking of what Alf had done to them. They would be somehow tainted in her eyes. They wouldn’t be her girls any more.
‘Perhaps Mum’s right,’ Josie said in a small voice. ‘Maybe he is a changed man. We should give him a chance . . .’
Dora looked at her sharply. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’
‘No.’ Josie sighed. She aimed another pebble and it landed with a plop in the still water. ‘I suppose I could move out, go to live with Auntie Brenda in Haggerston?’
‘But Griffin Street is your home. And besides, what if he starts on Bea?’
‘Don’t!’ Josie cut her off sharply.
‘That’s why we’ve got to tell Mum.’
‘I can’t, Dora.’ Josie’s eyes filled with tears.
‘I’ll do it, then. I won’t tell her about you. I’ll tell her he just did it to me.’
‘No! I can’t let you do that, it’s not fair.’
‘Josie, we’ve got to do something.’
‘I know, but not that. Anything but that, Dora. Please, promise me you won’t tell her?’
Dora looked at her sister. She had that haunted, vacant expression in her eyes again, the same expression Dora used to see when she looked at herself in the mirror.
‘I promise,’ she said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
IT WAS LUNCHTIME, and Sister Sutton was in one of her manic spring-cleaning moods. All morning Jess had been up a ladder, bucket of soapy water balanced in one hand, scrubbing at the ornate plasterwork on the ceilings with the other. Sister Sutton stood at the bottom with Sparky, offering encouragement.
‘Make sure you get into all the nooks and crannies,’ she called up. ‘That’s where the dirt hides. Are you sure you’ve cleaned round those grapes properly? They don’t look very clean to me. I’m sure I can see . . .’
She fell silent suddenly. Jess glanced down at her. The Home Sister had one hand to her abdomen and had gone very pale.
‘Are you all right, Sister?’ Jess called down to her.
‘Yes, yes. Just a silly pain, that’s all. It’s nothing serious.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jess dropped her brush into the bucket and started down the ladder. ‘Would you like me to fetch you something? A glass of water?’
‘Really, there’s no need to fuss!’ Sister Sutton shook off Jess’ hand. ‘It was just a twinge, that’s all. It’s gone now.’ She drew herself upright and glared at the girl. ‘Well? What are you doing? Get back up that ladder at once.’
Jess put her hands on her hips. ‘At least go and have a sit down while I finish.’
‘So that you have an excuse to shirk?’
‘You
know me, I never shirk.’
Sister Sutton pursed her lips. ‘I suppose that’s true.’
‘Then, please, go and sit down. I’ll bring you a cup of tea when I’ve finished.’
‘I suppose that would be acceptable,’ Sister Sutton agreed reluctantly.
Jess waited until Sister had bustled off to her sitting room and then headed back up the ladder. No sooner had she reached the top than the front door opened and Effie came in, dressed in her uniform.
She stopped dead when she saw Jess. Even from her lofty perch, Jess could tell she had something on her mind.
‘Hello,’ Jess greeted her. ‘You off duty?’
‘Until five.’ Effie nodded, her face pensive.
Jess turned back to her cleaning, but Effie stood at the foot of the ladder, watching her.
‘You’ll never guess,’ she said at last. ‘I found the boy who stole my bag.’
The brush slipped from Jess’ fingers but she managed to grab it before it fell. ‘Oh, yes? How did you manage that?’ she said.
‘He’s been admitted to the ward with a fractured femur. Running away with something else he’d stolen, apparently.’
‘Well, I never.’ Jess soaked her brush and went on cleaning.
‘Do you think I should go to the police?’
Jess feigned a careless shrug. ‘It’s up to you.’
‘I suppose I couldn’t prove anything,’ Effie mused. ‘I got my bag back, after all.’ She paused for a moment. ‘How did you know where to find it, by the way?’
Jess didn’t dare turn round. She kept scrubbing, her shoulder aching in protest. ‘I told you, it was under a bush in the park.’
‘So it was. What a lucky coincidence, you stumbling across it like that. I mean, can you imagine the chances?’
Jess felt perspiration breaking out on her brow. ‘You know, don’t you?’ she said flatly.
‘That Cyril is your brother? Yes, he told me. He was quite gleeful about it, actually.’
I’ll bet he was, Jess thought. Any chance to cause more mischief. Her knees were wobbling so much she could barely hold herself upright on the ladder.
‘I didn’t put two and two together at first,’ Effie went on. ‘Stupid of me, really. I didn’t know Jago wasn’t a common name. You don’t even look alike.’
‘He’s my stepbrother,’ Jess mumbled.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Effie asked.
Jess paused briefly, then went on scrubbing. ‘I didn’t tell you because I knew what you’d think,’ she replied at last.
‘And what’s that?’
‘That if Cyril’s a thief then I must be one too.’
She heard Effie gasp. ‘I wouldn’t think that! You’re my friend.’
Jess risked a glance in Effie’s direction. The sight of her hurt expression nearly weakened Jess. ‘We’re not friends,’ she said.
‘How can you say that? You helped me pass my PTS exams . . .’
‘I helped you out because you asked me to, that’s all. But we ain’t friends, Effie. I told you, we can’t be. You’ve got your set and I’ve got—’
And I’ve got no one. The words were on the tip of her tongue for a moment, but Jess ignored them. ‘At any rate, we’re not friends,’ she said firmly.
Out of the corner of her eye Jess caught sight of Effie’s trembling lower lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t realise that was what you thought.’
She walked off towards the stairs. Jess fought the urge to call after her, tell her she was sorry, that she didn’t mean it.
But what was the point? Effie had said she wouldn’t judge her. But sooner or later something would happen and she wouldn’t be able to help herself. And Jess couldn’t bear that. Far better to make the break herself now than to risk rejection later on.
She’d been so foolish to think anything would be different for her here. She had come to the Nightingale looking for a new start, to escape everyone judging her because of who she was and where she’d come from.
But her old life followed her, clawing at her, dragging her back like a clanking ball and chain, no matter where she tried to go.
She finished scrubbing, then came down the ladder and carried the bucket of dirty water outside. She sloshed it down the drain then turned round to find Sparky watching her from the doorstep.
‘Blimey, where did you come from?’ she asked, bending down to ruffle his velvety ears.
She looked up, expecting to see Sister Sutton bustling into the kitchen, but there was no sign of her.
Jess looked back at Sparky. ‘I dunno what you’re doing, wandering about on your own, but Sister ain’t going to be too pleased about it. Come on, let’s get you back to her before you’re missed.’
She scooped Sparky up into her arms and carried him through the kitchen and up the passageway. The door to Sister Sutton’s sitting room stood half-open.
‘So that’s how you escaped,’ Jess muttered. ‘Proper little Harry Houdini, ain’t you?’ She tapped on the Home Sister’s door. ‘Sister? Guess who I found wandering around outside?’
There was no reply.
‘Sister?’ Still holding Sparky under her arm, Jess pushed gently at the door. It swung open. ‘Sister Sutton? Sorry to disturb you, but—’
Then she saw the bulky form sprawled on the mat in front of the fire, and didn’t finish the rest of her sentence.
Effie returned to the ward at five o’clock, still feeling hurt at what Jess had said to her. Why would she come out with something so spiteful? It was almost as if she wanted to drive her away.
Unless Jess was speaking the truth, and they had never been friends after all? It was all desperately confusing.
She walked through the double doors and straight into Hugo and Frances, having what seemed like a very cosy chat in the sluice. They jumped apart when she came in.
‘Oh, it’s only you!’ Frances laughed with relief. ‘I thought it was Sister!’
Effie looked from one to the other. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I was looking for you, darling,’ Hugo said smoothly. ‘I just wanted to know what time you wanted me to pick you up for the ball tomorrow? Would about seven be all right? Outside the nurses’ home?’
‘If you like,’ Effie replied, still staring at Frances.
‘Jolly good. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it. I expect you’ll look utterly ravishing, as usual.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Effie made a big point of kissing him on the cheek before he left, and was pleased to see Frances looking positively green with jealousy.
‘You shouldn’t do that, you know,’ she said sourly. ‘You’d get the sack for sure if Sister caught you.’
‘So would you, if she caught you alone with him,’ Effie pointed out. ‘You shouldn’t be talking to him anyway. He’s my boyfriend, not yours.’
Frances gave her a patronising smile. ‘Oh, do grow up, O’Hara. He was my friend before you came along. We’ve known each other for ages. Honestly, you sound like a silly schoolgirl sometimes.’
Effie ignored her and went to the sink. ‘What were you laughing about anyway?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.
Frances shrugged. ‘Hugo was just telling me about the great joke he and the other students are planning to play at the ball.’
Effie glanced over her shoulder at her. ‘What is it?’
‘You’ll find out.’ Frances looked maddeningly mysterious.
‘I don’t know why he can’t let me in on the joke,’ Effie said, watching the hot water run into the big steel sink.
‘I expect he thought you wouldn’t want to know,’ Frances dismissed. ‘Let’s face it, you’re not much of a sport, are you? You seem to get cross about his pranks.’
‘Only when they’re hurtful.’
Frances smiled. ‘They’re only really funny when they’re a bit hurtful.’ She gave Effie a pitying look. ‘Really, O’Hara, if you don’t understand that then you don’t have a hope of keeping up wit
h Hugo Morgan.’
‘I keep telling you, I’m quite well. It was just a dizzy spell, that’s all!’
Sister Sutton glared over the doctor’s shoulder at Jess. ‘You see what you’ve done? You’ve caused a lot of silly fuss over nothing.’
‘You collapsed,’ Jess pointed out.
‘Collapsed, my eye! You’re being over-dramatic.’
‘Over-dramatic or not, she was quite right to call me,’ Dr McKay said, putting away his stethoscope. ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know your heart sounds very strong.’
Sister Sutton regarded Jess triumphantly. ‘You see? I told you there was nothing wrong with me.’
‘Nevertheless, I would like you to spend a couple of days in the sick bay, so I can do some further tests.’
‘Certainly not!’ Sister Sutton replied tartly. ‘I told you, I’m . . .’
‘As fit as a fiddle – yes, I know.’ Dr McKay looked weary. ‘But I would like to make sure. Your maid tells me you’ve had some abdominal pain?’
‘She had no business telling you anything!’ Sister Sutton shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but it’s quite impossible. I have my duties here to think about.’
‘I’ll look after everything,’ Jess offered.
‘You?’ The Home Sister sent her a withering look.
‘Or surely one of the other sisters could help?’ Dr McKay suggested.
Sister Sutton sighed. ‘I suppose I could ask Miss Hanley to look after the office,’ she agreed reluctantly.
‘And I’ll look after Sparky for you until you come back,’ Jess offered.
‘That’s settled, then.’ Dr McKay smiled. ‘I’ll summon a porter to bring a wheelchair.’
‘A wheelchair?’ Sister Sutton looked affronted. ‘Oh, no, Doctor. If I must submit to the sick bay, then I fully intend to go there under my own steam, thank you very much. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pack.’
She bustled off, quivering with bruised dignity. Dr McKay turned to Jess.
‘I know you, don’t I?’
Jess blushed. ‘I don’t think so, Doctor.’
‘Yes, I do. I never forget a face. Now let me think . . . ah, yes. I have it now. You’re the quick thinking young lady who saved your brother’s life. Fractured femur, wasn’t it?’
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