The Nightingale Girls

by Donna Douglas

  Kathleen had the small satisfaction of seeing Miss Hanley’s jaw drop. ‘But she can’t!’ she burst out. ‘Helen is one of the best students we have. The Nightingale needs girls like her.’

  ‘I agree. But apparently St Andrew’s in Aberdeen will be having the benefit of her excellent training from now on.’

  Kathleen watched a mottled purple hue creep up from under Miss Hanley’s starched collar as she took in the news. She was pleased her assistant was so shaken. Perhaps now she could see the damage her meddling had done.

  Kathleen only hoped she was proud of herself.

  ‘Are you quite well, Veronica? You’re very quiet this evening,’ Florence observed as they sat in the small patch of garden beside the nurses’ home. It was a warm, sunny evening, far too pleasant to be indoors, so the sisters had brought folding chairs out on to the lawn for their patchwork session.

  But Veronica Hanley was barely aware of the warmth of the sun dappling through the chestnut trees, or of the sewing in her lap. Her thoughts were straying elsewhere.

  ‘I must confess, I’m a little dismayed by the news about Tremayne,’ she admitted finally.

  ‘Oh, yes. Poor Tremayne.’ Sister Parker shook her head. ‘Such a bright girl. And such a loss to this hospital.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’d say that, after what she did to me.’ Agatha Sutton’s chins wobbled with indignation.

  Florence Parker restrained her smile. ‘I wonder how her mother found out?’ she mused

  Veronica was aware of Florence’s eyes fixed on her. She kept her gaze on her sewing, which had become uneven and ugly through lack of attention. She sighed and began picking the stitches out.

  ‘I must say, I’m surprised at Mrs Tremayne’s reaction,’ she said.

  ‘Are you? I can’t say I am. She’s always struck me as a vindictive sort of woman,’ Florence said sharply.

  ‘Yes, but given her own background . . .’ Veronica shut her mouth like a trap, biting back the words.

  Agatha went on stitching, blithely unaware, but it was too much to hope Florence hadn’t noticed. She regarded her keenly.

  ‘You were about to say something else, Veronica?’

  She yanked out another stitch, breaking the thread in her agitation. ‘I just thought, as a vicar’s wife, she might have shown a little more forgiveness,’ she muttered.

  ‘She does seem to be judging her poor daughter rather harshly,’ Florence remarked.

  Doesn’t she just? Veronica thought. Her feelings were as tangled as the threads of her patchwork. And try as she might, she couldn’t seem to sort them out.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Agatha agreed with a sigh. ‘The wretched girl did almost give me a heart attack, but I suppose no one is perfect, are they?’

  ‘Apart from Constance Tremayne, of course,’ Florence reminded her.

  Is she? Veronica pursed her mouth over her stitching.

  She might seem harsh, but she believed in fairness. And Constance Tremayne really wasn’t being fair. Especially given everything Veronica knew about her.

  ‘Are you sure you’re quite all right, Veronica? You’re being quite merciless with that patchwork. It’s practically in shreds,’ Florence Parker observed.

  ‘Yes, I know. Forgive me.’ Veronica let her sewing fall into her lap. ‘I’m not in the mood this evening, I’m afraid. I have a great deal on my mind.’

  The two sisters regarded her expectantly, but Veronica said nothing more. There was only one person she could talk to now, and that was Constance Tremayne.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  IN AUGUST, IT was time to change wards again. Dora was sorry to say goodbye to Sister Holmes and Male Surgical, especially when she found out she would be going to Gynae.

  Sister Wren wasn’t nearly so interested in training as she was in putting her feet up in her sitting room and flirting with the doctors. As long as Dora did as she was told and kept herself busy, Sister Wren left her to her own devices.

  Which might have been a blessing, had it not been for Lettie Pike the ward maid.

  She was Sister Wren’s eyes and ears on the ward. While Sister Wren relaxed in her sitting room, Lettie would spy on the nurses. Nothing seemed to get past her beady eye, and she took great delight in making sure the students got into trouble as often as possible.

  Poor Dora was the special focus of her attention. As she found out when she had to miss her dinner break one day. Light-headed with hunger, she’d risked eating some of the patients’ leftovers in the kitchen. It was only a piece of cold cod, but Lettie Pike made sure Sister Wren found out all about it.

  ‘No eating on the wards!’ Sister had screamed at her in front of everyone. ‘Good heavens, Doyle, no wonder you’re so fat!’

  Even when Lettie couldn’t land Dora into trouble, she singled her out for yet more spite.

  ‘Did you know my Ruby’s courting Nick Riley?’ she would say almost every day. ‘Very keen on her, he is. Ruby thought he might have been sweet on you once, but he says he was never interested.’

  Dora did her best to ignore her as she went on counting the dirty towels and sheets for the laundry. It was none of her business who Nick Riley was courting, she told herself firmly. If she’d had any chance with him at all, it was definitely in the past.

  But one day Lettie Pike had a new nugget of gossip with which to torment Dora.

  ‘I thought your Josie was going to be a teacher?’ she said casually, as she barged Dora out of the way to fill her cleaning bucket in the sluice.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then how come my Ruby saw her sniffing around in Gold’s yesterday?’

  Dora frowned. ‘She’s sure it was our Josie?’

  ‘Blimey, girl, we’ve lived next door long enough to know if it was her or not!’ Lettie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m telling you, my Ruby saw her. Having a fine old chat with Esther Gold, she was, asking if there were any jobs going.’ She raised her voice over the roar of the tap. ‘Very surprising, I must say, seeing as how your mum’s always boasting about her taking all these exams.’

  She turned off the tap and hauled the bucket out of the sink. ‘I asked your mum about it, but she just said she didn’t know nothing. Made out like I was making trouble, she did. I told her, my Ruby saw her with her own eyes. And my Ruby doesn’t tell lies.’

  Not much, she doesn’t! Dora nearly laughed out loud. Ruby Pike could be a proper little storyteller when she wanted to be. But there was no reason why she’d lie about something like that.

  Dora frowned. There had to be something more to it, something even her mother didn’t know.

  Somewhere inside her, a dark and nameless fear began to uncoil itself again.

  Two days later, Dora sent word for Josie to meet her in Victoria Park. It was a hot, sunny Saturday and the park was crowded with families, children playing and young couples strolling hand in hand.

  The Josie she knew would have loved a day like this. She would have been in the park with her friends or Bea and Little Alfie, squealing with fun and laughter as she chased them around on the grass.

  But sitting on a park bench, Dora scarcely recognised the thin, nervous young girl who approached her, head down, dragging her feet. Seeing her, Dora’s heart sank to her shoes.

  ‘All right, Jose?’ she greeted her. ‘Lovely day, ain’t it?’

  ‘S’all right, I s’pose.’ Josie stopped a few feet away and eyed her cautiously. ‘What do you want?’ she asked. Then, before she could reply, she said, ‘I suppose Mum told you to talk to me about Gold’s? Well, you’re wasting your time. I’ve made up my mind and I’m not going to change it.’ Her chin lifted defiantly.

  ‘So it’s true, then? You want to leave school?’ Dora shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted up at her. ‘Why, Josie? I thought you loved school? What about your certificates?’

  ‘I don’t need any certificates.’

  ‘You’ll need them if you want to be a teacher, surely?’

  ‘I don’t wa
nt to be a teacher,’ Josie said flatly. ‘I just want to leave school and start earning some money, so I can—’

  She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. Dora understood why she wanted to leave school. It was to escape Alf.

  Hadn’t she done the same thing herself? Part of her reason for becoming a nurse was so she wouldn’t have to live under the same roof as him. But if she’d known that by leaving she would be condemning her sister to the same living hell, she would never have done it.

  ‘What is it, Josie?’ she whispered. ‘You can tell me.’

  She looked at Josie’s dark, wretched eyes and remembered the bright little child she had been. Was this really the same girl who always had her head in a book? Who ran to school every morning and stayed behind every afternoon, and helped the younger kids with their reading and sums?

  Alf Doyle had taken away more than her sister’s innocence. He had taken away her hopes and her dreams, too.

  And in spite of her warning, she was still doing it.

  She stood up. Suddenly her legs seemed to be as fragile as pipe cleaners, barely able to support her.

  ‘Josie, I need to know,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Is it Alf?’

  Josie’s head shot back and Dora saw shock spark in her eyes. Then she turned on her heel abruptly and began walking away.

  ‘Josie, please!’ Dora watched her go, hurrying along the path, shouldering her way through the couples and the families as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. She was disappearing, slipping away from her. Another second and it would be too late . . .

  ‘It happened to me too, Josie!’ she called out.

  The words seemed to echo around inside her head. A few people turned to look at her curiously, a dumpy redheaded girl standing in the middle of the path, shouting nonsense into the air.

  Dora stood and waited, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of her sister. But Josie had already gone, lost in the crowd.

  Lost for ever.

  Defeated, she turned away to go, just as a small voice behind her called her name.

  Dora swung round. There, on the path, stood Josie. She looked so small and lost, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Is it . . . is it true?’ she asked. ‘It’s not just me?’

  Dora rushed to her, and a moment later they were clinging to each other, not even caring who might be watching them. Josie was crying, sobbing so much her slender body shook. Dora wanted to cry too as she clung to her, stroking her hair.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she whispered. ‘No more secrets, all right? It’s the only way, Jose.’

  They walked. Round and round Victoria Park, until their legs ached. Then they sat on a bench and watched the ducks swimming on the lake. Josie’s hand felt small and trusting in Dora’s, just as it had when they were young and she had brought her here to feed the ducks.

  Dora kept her eyes fixed on a fat brown duck, bobbing under the water for fish, as her sister talked. Dora could hear the fear in her voice as she falteringly told how Alf started sneaking into her room at night, how she’d tried to fight him off but he was too strong for her. How she was too consumed with terror and shame to tell her mother what had happened.

  It was all so depressingly familiar. And yet it was so much worse that it had happened to Josie. Dora could almost forgive Alf doing it to her, she was nothing special after all. But not Josie . . .

  ‘He made it seem as if it was my fault, as if I’d made him do it. As if I’d w-wanted it to happen . . .’ Josie turned anguished eyes to Dora. ‘But I didn’t want it to happen. It was so horrible . . .’

  ‘I know, love.’ Dora let go of her sister’s hand and slid her arm along the back of the bench to hug her narrow shoulders. ‘And that’s why you ran away?’

  Josie nodded. ‘I just wanted it to stop,’ she said. ‘And then when he went into hospital . . . I know this sounds wicked, but I prayed for him to die.’

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ Dora said grimly.

  ‘It was better after he came home. For a while, anyway,’ Josie said, gulping back her tears. ‘I thought it was all going to be all right again. But then a couple of weeks ago, he started coming back into my room . . .’

  She looked around at Dora. ‘I don’t know what else to do. I feel like it’s my fault.’

  That’s what he relies on, Dora thought. ‘It wasn’t you, Josie. It was him.’

  She picked up a stone and aimed it into the lake. She’d thought she hated Alf before, but it was nothing like the white hot hatred she felt for him now. Touching her was one thing, but laying his dirty hands on Josie was something far, far worse.

  And after she’d warned him, too.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about this any more,’ she said. ‘I’ll make it stop. For good, this time.’

  ‘How?’ Josie whipped round to face her, panic in her eyes. ‘You won’t tell Mum, will you? Please don’t tell her, Dor. I couldn’t stand it if anyone else knew . . .’

  ‘It’s all right, Jose.’ Dora hugged her close. ‘Don’t you fret. I told you I’ll look after you, didn’t I? And I will.’

  ‘How?’ Josie said. ‘How will you make everything all right?’

  Dora threw another stone into the surface of the lake, shattering the stillness like glass.

  I’ll kill him if I have to, she thought.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  DORA MADE SURE she called round to Griffin Street in the middle of the day, when she knew her mother would be out delivering mending back to the laundry, and Nanna Winnie had taken the kids to the market. She also knew Alf was working the late shift, so he was bound to be home.

  He came stomping down the stairs as she let herself in, dressed in his vest and doing up the buckle on his belt.

  ‘Oh, it’s you.’ He shouldered past her to sit himself down in his favourite armchair. ‘You might as well stick the kettle on, seeing as you’re here,’ he said, picking up the newspaper to peruse the racing results.

  Dora bit back the retort that sprang to her lips and went into the scullery without a word. She had to bide her time.

  She stood in the scullery, trying to calm herself down. Through the net curtains, she could see Danny Riley perched on top of the coal cellar as usual. She waved distractedly to him as she warmed the pot and made the tea.

  ‘To what do we owe this pleasure, anyway?’ Alf asked sarcastically as she plonked his mug of tea down in front of him.

  ‘You know very well.’ She stood over him. ‘I warned you, didn’t I? I told you to leave Josie alone.’

  He shot her a quick, guarded look. Then slowly, a sneer spread across his face. ‘And what are you going to do about it?’ he mocked. ‘Cut my throat with a razor blade again?’ He shook his head pityingly. ‘Sorry, love, you should have done it while you had the chance. ’Cos your little tricks won’t work in this house. You might have had the upper hand in that hospital of yours, but out here what I say goes.’

  Dora watched him as he picked up his mug. ‘And what if I tell Mum?’

  ‘You won’t.’ He slurped his tea. ‘And I’ll tell you why, shall I? Because it will ruin her life. And you wouldn’t want to do that to your poor mum, would you? Not after everything she’s been through.’

  ‘It couldn’t be worse than living with a monster like you.’

  ‘Is that right? Maybe you can tell her that when she’s living in the workhouse with the rest of the family.’

  She watched him, supremely confident as ever. A tingle of hatred spread upwards from her toes.

  He looked up and caught her staring. ‘What you looking at?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Well, don’t.’ He frowned irritably. ‘You get on my nerves. I’ve a good mind to tell Rose I don’t want you round here any more.’

  ‘She’d never do that.’

  ‘I reckon I could make her do anything I wanted,’ he smirked. ‘Just like I can make you and your sister do anything, too.’

  Helplessness washed over her. Alf
was right. She was powerless to hurt him any more. Not without hurting the rest of her family too.

  All she could do was try to appeal to his better nature. If he’d ever had one.

  ‘Leave Josie alone,’ she begged. ‘She’s just a kid, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.’

  Alf tipped the last of his tea into his gaping mouth. ‘You know what I think?’ he said. ‘I reckon you’re jealous of that little sister of yours.’

  Dora gripped her hands together to stop herself lunging at him.

  ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You’re jealous because she’s got me now and you haven’t.’

  Dora stared at him. He really believed it, she thought. He was deluded enough to actually think that she and Josie wanted him.

  In that moment a plan came into her mind. ‘You’re right,’ she said flatly. ‘I am jealous.’ She forced herself to move towards him, her legs as stiff as a puppet’s, her smile fixed. ‘Get rid of her, Alf. Then it can be just you and me again. Just like old times.’

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite trust what he was hearing. Then he leered, showing dirty yellow teeth.

  ‘I knew it,’ he said. ‘I knew you wanted me for yourself.’

  Dora held herself rigid as he stood up and came towards her. She could smell the sweat on him, see the wiry greying hair of his chest curling above his stained vest. His hands gripped her arms, pinning them to her sides as he forced himself against her, his mouth clamped on hers. As his tongue invaded her mouth, Dora forced her mind to go blank.

  Do it for Josie, she told herself over and over again. Do it to protect your sister . . .

  And then suddenly, abruptly, he released her, throwing her across the room with such force that she landed against the back door with a crash.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said gruffly. ‘Why would I want an ugly little cow like you in my bed when I could have a pretty little thing like Josie?’ He looked down on her, pityingly. ‘Shall I tell you something?’ he said. ‘I really had to force myself to do it to you sometimes. God, if I hadn’t been desperate . . .’