‘Dora?’
The sound of the man’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Slowly she allowed herself to turn around. There, standing just a few feet behind her, shrouded in shadow, was a tall, familiar figure.
‘Nick?’ she whispered.
‘Did I frighten you?’ he said. ‘I was going to knock on your door but it sounded like you were having a party so I went next door to see Danny first. I called to you as you came out, but I don’t think you heard me for the rain.’ He grimaced into the sky. ‘Blimey, you didn’t half put a sprint on up that alley. Who did you think was chasing you?’
Dora couldn’t speak. She could only stare at him as he stood before her, rain dripping off his dark curls. He was dressed in a black overcoat, and the darkness of the alleyway cast sinister shadows over the sharp contours of his face. She didn’t know whether to throw herself into his arms or beat him with her fists.
She kept her distance, still wary. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back,’ she said.
He looked puzzled. ‘I made you a promise, didn’t I?’
‘But you left the fair. No one has seen you since.’
His face darkened. ‘It didn’t work out at the fair,’ he said. ‘Lew Smith was happy enough with my work, but he didn’t want to pay me for it. We parted ways just after we left Oxford.’
‘Why didn’t you come home then?’
‘I told you, I made a promise. I didn’t want to come home without the money I need for the divorce.’
‘I wouldn’t have cared.’
‘No, but I would. Anyway, it turned out I could make a decent living as a labourer, so I decided to travel around the farms offering my services. What with that and everything else . . .’
‘Everything else?’ Dora echoed.
Nick looked down. ‘I did a bit of fighting,’ he muttered.
Dora grabbed his hands and looked at them. Even in the weak light from the streetlamp, she could see they were scarred and swollen. ‘Bare-knuckle fighting,’ she said.
‘It makes good money,’ Nick said defensively. ‘Better than Lew Smith was offering anyway.’
A picture came into her mind then of Nick in a village square, slick with sweat and blood, taking on all comers like a cornered dog. She shuddered. ‘You could have been killed.’
‘Not likely! Not when I had you to come home to.’
He smiled that rare smile of his, and Dora felt her insides melting.
‘I – I didn’t think I’d see you again,’ she said. Suddenly she was trembling, whether from cold or pent-up emotion she didn’t know.
‘I’d always come back to you, you should know that. I love you, Dora.’
‘Oh, Nick.’ The next moment she was in his arms, pressed against the dampness of his coat, his strong arms crushing her to him as he kissed her. Her hands went up to trace the harsh planes of his face, his firm jaw, the thick springiness of his hair . . . touching, exploring with desperate urgency, breathing in the male scent of him, as if five senses alone would never be enough to it all.
Finally he broke away, taking in a gulp of air. ‘Well, I reckon that was worth waiting three months for!’ He grinned, his inky blue eyes twinkling in the darkness.
‘I’ve missed you so much.’ Dora held on to the lapels of his coat. Rain streamed down his face. ‘You’re never going away again, Nick Riley, do you understand? I don’t care what anyone thinks, all I want is to be with you. I don’t even care about getting married.’
He frowned. ‘I told you, I want to do this properly.’
‘Yes, but I don’t think I can wait.’
‘You won’t have to.’
She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Do you mean – you’ve got the money?’
‘I told you I would, didn’t I?’ He patted his pocket. ‘I’ve got an appointment to see the solicitor first thing in the morning. And I saw Ruby when I went to visit Danny. She’s still as keen to get this sorted out. Reckons her fellow wants to name the date.’ He smiled at Dora. ‘I’m practically a free man. Which means now I can do this . . .’
‘Nick!’ Dora laughed as he sank to one knee in front of her. ‘For Gawd’s sake, stand up. You’ll get all wet.’
But he ignored her, his expression deadly serious. ‘Shhh,’ he warned. ‘Be quiet, woman, I’m trying to do this properly.’
‘Properly?’ Dora looked up at the darkened sky. ‘We’re in a dirty back alley in the pouring rain. It ain’t exactly proper, is it?’
‘Dora!’ he growled. ‘Do you want to marry me or don’t you?’
She smiled down at him. ‘If you put it like that, how can I say no?’
Chapter Forty-Nine
THE DAY AFTER the third years collected their badges, a new set of probationers moved into the student nurses’ home.
Effie O’Hara was moving too. With her sister Katie moving over to the staff nurses’ home, Effie had been assigned to another room, up in the attic, to make way for the new students. It was dark and a bit draughty, with the autumn wind whistling through the single ill-fitting skylight window, but at least up here she would be able to hear Sister Sutton stomping up the narrow staircase. And Katie had told her how she and her friends used to stand on the bed and smoke cigarettes through the skylight.
‘But I don’t want you to get any ideas,’ she’d warned her sister. ‘I might be in the nurses’ home, but I’ll still be keeping an eye on you!’
‘And Bridget will be keeping an eye on you!’ Effie laughed. How funny to think that their stern elder sister Bridget would now be watching over Katie’s every move. There would be no more sneaking up the drainpipe after lights out for her!
Effie threw open her case and unpacked her uniform, selecting the top drawer of the dresser and leaving the other two drawers empty for her room mates when they arrived.
As she put away her neatly folded aprons, collars and cuffs, she spotted something in a corner of the drawer. She took it out and dangled it in front of her eyes in the dim lamplight. It was a silver charm on the end of a fine chain. Looking closely, Effie could see it was shaped like a tiny hand.
‘What the—’
‘It’s a hamsa,’ a voice behind her said. Effie turned around. A solemn, dark-haired girl stood in the doorway. ‘It’s a Jewish symbol of good luck.’
Effie gazed at it, dangling on the end of its chain. ‘Someone must have left it here, I suppose.’
‘Perhaps it’s an omen?’ the girl said. She dragged her case into the room and placed it at the foot of the middle bed. ‘I’m Devora, by the way. Devora Kowalski.’
‘Euphemia O’Hara. But you can call me Effie.’ She regarded the girl with interest. ‘Where is that name from?’
‘My parents are Polish.’ Devora looked around her. ‘Is it your first day, too?’
‘Oh, no, I’ve been here six months. I’ve finished PTS and I’ve already had three months on the wards.’
‘Really?’
Effie was gratified that the other girl looked so impressed. She began to understand what her sister must have felt like, knowing the ropes.
‘Any sign of our other room mate yet?’ Devora asked, eyeing the empty bed in the corner.
Effie shook her head. Please God, don’t let it be Anna Padgett, she prayed.
‘I hope it’s someone nice,’ Devora said.
‘It would be good if we could all be friends,’ Effie agreed.
Meanwhile, downstairs, the newest Nightingale probationer was hauling her battered suitcase up the front steps of the students’ home. The Home Sister was there to greet her, arms folded across her formidable shelf of a bosom, face like thunder.
‘You’re late,’ she snapped. ‘I do hope you’re not going to make a habit of this, Nurse?’
‘No, Sister.’
‘We have rules here, you know. And I expect them to be obeyed to the letter. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘And I hope you won’t expect any special treatment?’
‘Definitely
not, Sister.’
‘Because I intend to treat you just the same as all the other students here.’
The girl allowed herself a smile. That was what she wanted, too. It was all she’d ever wanted.
Sister Sutton looked her up and down. ‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘I suppose you’ll do.’ For a brief moment her expression softened and a hint of warmth flickered in her tiny dark eyes. ‘Welcome home, Nurse Jago,’ she said, giving Jess a brief nod. ‘I hope you’ll be happy here.’
Jess grinned and bent to stroke the little dog capering excitedly around her feet. ‘Thank you, Sister. I’m sure I will be,’ she said.
On New Year’s Eve 1937, Lady Amelia Benedict, daughter of the Earl of Rettingham, married Sebastian, youngest son of the Duke and Duchess of Claremont, in a glittering society wedding at St Margaret’s, Westminster. Her bridesmaids were her best friends, Helen Dawson and Dora Doyle.
Three months later Dora wore the same pale blue silk bridesmaid’s dress when she married Nick Riley at Bethnal Green Register Office. Her bridesmaids, Bea and Josie, wore flowery dresses their mother had made for them.
It wasn’t nearly as grand as Millie’s wedding, but Dora couldn’t have been a happier bride as she finally exchanged vows with Nick. She trembled as he slid the ring on to her finger, still scarcely able to believe that it was finally happening. It was only when the registrar announced that they were man and wife and she looked up into his eyes that she allowed herself to breathe.
Her friends were waiting for her as they walked arm in arm out of the register office into the early spring sunshine.
Millie Benedict, or Lady Rushton, as she was now, was looking very grown-up and already every inch the married woman in an elegant apricot silk dress and coat. Hard to believe this was the same girl who’d regularly slithered in through the skylight window when they were students.
Helen and Katie were there too, as was Lucy Lane. She and Dora exchanged wary smiles through the shower of fluttering confetti. Dora wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by their friendship, but she was glad it had happened.
She glanced at Nick, but he’d already read her thoughts. ‘Go on, then.’ He smiled, leaning in to plant a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ve got you for the rest of my life, I reckon I can spare you for a couple of minutes.’
Dora squeezed his hand and hurried off to talk to her friends. There were lots of delighted squeals as they greeted each other and admired each other’s dresses.
‘You look beautiful,’ Helen said.
Dora looked down at her dress, embarrassed by the compliment. ‘It’s so lovely, it seemed a shame not to wear it again.’ Besides, she thought, she could never have afforded a wedding gown half as beautiful.
‘You look radiant,’ Millie said.
‘So do you.’ Dora looked closely at her friend. There was something about Millie that seemed different. ‘Married life suits you.’
‘She’s right,’ Helen agreed. ‘You’re quite glowing.’
A blush rose in Millie’s cheeks. ‘I don’t know if that’s married life or something else entirely.’
They looked at each other, then it dawned on Dora. ‘You’re not . . .?’
Millie nodded. ‘I’m not sure, but I think so,’ she said.
Dora laughed. ‘Blimey, you haven’t wasted any time, have you? I bet your grandmother is pleased!’
‘She doesn’t know yet, but I daresay she’ll be delighted.’ Millie pulled a face. ‘Gosh, can you imagine me as a mother? I’ll probably leave the baby somewhere and forget about it completely.’
Helen and Dora exchanged knowing looks. Millie had calmed down a lot towards the end of their training, but she had always been a bit of a scatterbrain.
‘So what’s happening at the Nightingale?’ Millie said. ‘Go on, I want to hear all the gossip!’
They looked at each other. ‘Well,’ Katie said, ‘I’m a staff nurse on Blake now.’
‘With your sister?’ Millie laughed. ‘How delightful for you.’
‘Don’t!’ Katie grimaced. ‘Bridget lives to make my life a misery. Still, I expect Tom will propose soon, then I can leave like you two,’ she added brightly.
Dora and Lucy exchanged knowing looks. Poor Katie seemed to be the only one who didn’t know her boyfriend wasn’t the marrying kind.
‘And what about you?’ Millie asked Lucy. ‘I’m surprised you aren’t chasing Matron for her job yet!’
Lucy shrugged. ‘I’m happy enough in Theatre, thank you. I’ve still got a lot to learn there.’
Dora caught Millie’s look of surprise. She’d probably been expecting Lucy to bite back, or at least to brag about how well she was doing. But her experiences over the past year seemed to have humbled her. And Dora liked her a great deal more for it.
‘So that’s it, I suppose,’ Millie sighed. ‘The end of an era, as they say. You know, I adore married life, but I do miss the Nightingale,’ she said wistfully.
Katie laughed. ‘You miss getting up at six in the morning and queuing to wash in cold water? You must be mad!’
‘Or being shouted at for fourteen hours a day by a ward sister?’ Lucy suggested.
‘Or going back to the home and being shouted at by the Home Sister?’ Helen added.
‘All right, perhaps I don’t miss it that much!’ Millie agreed with a grin. ‘But I do miss chatting to the patients, and seeing them get better. And I miss seeing my friends every day, too.’ She turned to Dora. ‘I expect you’ll be the same, now you’re married.’
‘I expect I will,’ she agreed. Much as she’d longed to be married to Nick, she also knew what a wrench it would be to hang up her uniform and walk away from the Nightingale for the last time.
‘Don’t get upset about it,’ Lucy urged. ‘We can stay in touch can’t we?’
‘Of course we can,’ Millie said bracingly. ‘We’ll write to each other all the time, and you can come and visit me.’ She smiled. ‘We’ll always be Nightingale girls, won’t we?’
‘Always,’ Dora said. ‘And, you know, I’ve got a funny feeling we might all be back there one day.’
Millie laughed. ‘What on earth makes you think that?’
‘I dunno,’ she shrugged. ‘Just something makes me think we haven’t seen the last of the Nightingale. And it definitely hasn’t seen the last of us!’
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Copyright © Donna Douglas 2014
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First published in Great Britain in 2014 by
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