‘I was leaving that to drain,’ said Mrs Duffy, her voice now full of hurt, her anger seemingly spent.
Emily set the bowl down on the table with almost no noise at all and moving back to the sink said, ‘Look, I know it’s me. Will you tell me what I’ve done?’
‘You haven’t done anything.’ Mrs Duffy stacked another plate on to the draining board. ‘Nothing whatsoever.’
Emily sensed that there was a clue hidden in her cryptic response, but she couldn’t fathom it out. ‘Well, I obviously have done something, something that has upset you. I know you, I can tell.’
‘Oh, know me, do you?’
It was obvious to Emily that Mrs Duffy’s mood was volatile and that she would have to tread very carefully.
‘I would say you don’t know me at all well, actually. If you did know me half as well as you think, I wouldn’t be the last person in the world to know what’s going on in your life. Do you know, half the women at Mass know about you and Dessie Horton and do you think they don’t tell me, that I don’t know? Oh no, everyone tells me everything – except you.’
Emily’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. She had never in her life seen Mrs Duffy as angry or upset as she was right now.
Mrs Duffy took her hands out of the sink, dried them on her apron and then, pulling her cardigan sleeve down, rooted inside for her handkerchief. Retrieving it, she noisily blew her nose. Emily had never seen her cry in all the time she’d known her and she was shocked to her core. She hadn’t wanted to tell Mrs Duffy that she’d moved in with Dessie until the time was right. But as she stood there and witnessed the distress of the woman who, along with Biddy, had been the closest thing to a mother she’d known since her own had died, she had to be honest with herself. Mrs Duffy was of a certain type, a woman who did things by the book, and that was part of the reason she hadn’t said anything. But more than anything it was because Mrs Duffy had always had high expectations of Emily, had supported her through her career, delighted in her progression. The main reason Emily hadn’t told her was because she hadn’t wanted to let her down, and now was the time to let her know that.
‘Mrs Duffy, I am so, so sorry. I have been just the biggest idiot. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. I didn’t want to let you down, and now look, that is exactly what I have done.’
Mrs Duffy wiped her eyes. ‘Is it true that you’re staying at his house?’
Emily blushed bright red. Her embarrassment was excruciating, but she wasn’t going to lie. ‘Yes, I am. Are you mad with me?’
Mrs Duffy turned to her with an incredulous expression on her face. ‘Mad at you? I’m mad that you didn’t come to me for advice and tell me yourself. I’m mad that the woman who lives next door to Dessie, that nosey beak Hattie Lloyd, was the one to tell me. That’s what I’m mad at.’
Emily sensed a softening in her anger and took that moment to reach out and take Mrs Duffy’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. ‘You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. We were going to tell you tomorrow, at the carol service, and that’s the truth.’
She felt a further easing of the tension and, moving closer, gave Mrs Duffy a hug. ‘Life’s so short, you know, and it feels like we’ve got no more time to waste. I suppose I thought that after what we’ve both been through, you more than most would understand.’
Mrs Duffy heaved a deep sigh and smiled. Then she fastened her arms around Emily’s waist and hugged her. ‘I know, my dear. I do understand. You have my full approval because you couldn’t have picked a nicer or better man.’
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Emily began to laugh. ‘What a relief it is now that you know. Am I forgiven?’
‘Oh, away with you!’ Mrs Duffy pushed her hankie back up her sleeve. ‘Come on, let’s have a sherry and switch on the lights.’
Five minutes later the two women walked into the sitting room, Emily with her arm around Mrs Duffy’s shoulders, Mrs Duffy with her arm around Emily’s waist. An audible sigh of relief swept across the room.
‘Come along, everyone, a glass in your hand while we let bossy boots Nurse Tanner do the honours of switching on the lights.’ Mrs Duffy began to pour.
Once the sherry had been transferred from the bottle to the glasses, Beth flicked off the light switch next to the door, plunging the room into darkness.
‘One, two, three!’ everyone shouted, and on three, Pammy dropped the switch for the tree. The lights flickered on and then off and then on again and the tree and the room were finally flooded with the twinkling bulbs of Christmas. There were oohs and aahs from the assembled nurses as they all commented on how wonderful the large tree looked.
‘I’m surprised the lights worked,’ said Emily. ‘Remember the years they didn’t?’
‘I do,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘I got Jake to come in today and test them. We have an extra set because the tree is so big this year.’
‘It looks wonderful,’ said Emily. ‘You always manage to do this, Mrs Duffy – make Christmas special.’
And then came the warning. It was dropped in quietly amid the sips of sherry, the clink of glasses and plates, and the gasps of delight at the shortness of Mrs Duffy’s pastry and the perfect consistency of her mincemeat. But it was clear that this was what was at the heart of Mrs Duffy’s concern. ‘Christmas is to celebrate the birth of a special child,’ she said. ‘You will be careful, won’t you, Emily?’
Her meaning was clear. She would never refer directly to the fact that she knew that Emily and Dessie were sleeping together, but like all mothers, natural and adopted, it had been her main worry since the day she had overheard Emily talking to the girls. Mrs Duffy wasn’t blind or daft. There was a mood in the air, a recklessness that had emerged during the war and only grown stronger since. No one knew what tomorrow would bring and the young in particular lived for the day.
She had whispered her words of warning so that the others wouldn’t hear. Emily took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I will.’
21
Try as she might, Aileen had struggled to raise a smile all morning. If it hadn’t been for the children, she might not have even bothered.
Pammy Tanner had been on a hunt and had discovered Sister Tapps’s stash of Christmas presents on ward four. She’d brought them over to be wrapped. ‘Why do you think she didn’t tell us they were there?’ she asked as she and Beth cut lengths of crepe paper.
Aileen had a wooden toy train balanced on her lap waiting for the wrapping. The wood had been polished and the funnel painted a shiny red. She pushed the wheels round and round with the tip of her index finger. Since the night before last, she’d been unable to think about anything but Freddie. He was always just under the surface of her thoughts and every single quiet moment she had, the enormity of her loss and what might have been washed through her. Her emotions zigzagged wildly, but she had convinced herself that she completely understood why he had chosen not to contact her. A child had gone missing and he must be blaming her. Perhaps he had got into trouble with his superiors.
Dragging her thoughts back into the room, she shook her head and looked miserable and dazed. ‘Sorry, what did you say, Nurse Tanner?’
‘These – the presents.’ Pammy lifted the tape up to her mouth, bit it and ripped a strip off.
‘Gosh, I’m not sure. I expect Sister Tapps was so excited about heading off to see her family, she just forgot,’ said Aileen. ‘You have to admit, having the opportunity to spend Christmas with her own relatives for the first time in years must have been all she could think about, and she’s a great present buyer. Every child who has a birthday while they’re on ward four gets a present and a cake. I only just remembered to give her her present when she popped in the other morning to say goodbye to the children.’
‘Really, she was here on the morning of the transfer? That morning? Blimey, I’m surprised you remembered at all, with the commotion that was going on. We need to be careful though. If word gets out that Sister
Tapps buys them all presents, we’ll have our own children from ward three transferring themselves en masse over there when she comes back. They’ll be pushing their own beds and cots and dragging their pillows behind them. They must think they’ve drawn the shortest straw on here.’
‘Well, that might have been true before,’ said Beth as she wrestled with the wrapping for a spinning top, ‘but not now.’
This finally brought a smile to Aileen’s face. ‘Thank you, Nurse Harper. I hope that’s the case. I do try to be like Sister Tapps, she did train me, but I’m not sure it’s possible for any human being to be as devoted and caring as she is.’
‘She’s a proper angel,’ said Pammy. ‘This is St Angelus hospital – we must have at least one.’
Beth handed Aileen a sheet of paper.
‘We can’t do all of this now,’ Aileen said. ‘Visiting is in an hour and I have to get my suitcase up to the accommodation corridor.’
‘Can’t you take it with you when night staff come on duty?’ asked Pammy.
‘No, I have to go and visit my mother on the ward and I’m not sure Sister Antrobus will like me heaving my case in as well. I might ask Dessie if he can get Bryan or one of the lads to take it up there for me. Right, the probationers will have cleared up lunch, let’s get the obs done and the lockers tidied and then we can try and open the doors a little early for those who have caught the bus and are already waiting outside.’
‘What if Matron comes up?’ asked Pammy, sounding worried.
Aileen had stood up and was packing the toys back up into a cardboard box. ‘Darn, I’ve just remembered, we need more diamorphine in the trolley and the pharmacist told me to take it out of ward four, with a witness. Could you come over with me, please. He said there were twenty-four tablets over there.’
‘Rightyo,’ said Pammy. ‘Shall we do it now?’
Aileen unhooked the keys from the side of her belt and said the words Beth loved the most. ‘Hold the fort, would you, please, Nurse Harper.’
*
The entire Doherty family were scrubbed clean to within an inch of their lives. Kitty and the twins sat on the settle, forbidden from setting a foot outside or even moving until their mam said they could.
‘You aren’t to go near the dirty entry, any of you,’ said Maura. ‘You will get your white socks filthy, Kitty.’
Kitty didn’t scowl, although she wanted to. She just fixed her father with a glare in the only way she knew how. He responded with a helpless shrug and a pitying look, and mouthed the words, ‘I can’t, queen.’
They weren’t due to leave for the hospital for nearly an hour. Even though they were to have a bath tomorrow night, before the Christmas Eve Mass, Maura had stood each one of them at the sink in the scullery and washed them down with just about enough warm water until their skin glowed a soft pink. Once they were dry they were dressed in clean, starched clothes that had dried in front of the fire overnight and been run over with the flat iron long before any of them had woken. ‘What I can’t get done whilst you lot are sleeping isn’t worth doing,’ Maura often said as they filed into the room for breakfast.
Kitty scratched her head. Her hair had been plaited and the ribbons tied so tight, her scalp was itching.
‘There will be no children visiting that hospital today cleaner than mine,’ Maura had announced. ‘Or fathers,’ she added as she finished ironing Tommy’s shirt and held it out to him.
The back door opened as Jerry arrived in the kitchen, holding a present. ‘Kathleen sent me over with this for Angela,’ he said.
Maura stood stock still and even Tommy took notice. ‘Well, Jerry, that’s mighty kind,’ he said. ‘That should put a smile on her face.’
Jerry turned to Kitty and the boys. ‘And don’t you be worrying now, I think she has more for you, but not until Christmas morning. I think me mam must have won on the bingo,’ he said. ‘She’s been treating us all.’
Both men looked over and saw that Maura had tears in her eyes. ‘Eh, Maura, come on now,’ said Tommy. ‘We’re off to see our Angela – what’s up with you?’
‘She won’t be with us on Christmas morning, Tommy – the most important day in the year. She won’t be coming into our bedroom and jumping on the bed waving her stocking. The poor child will be miserable and lonely and lost, and it breaks my heart.’
‘I know, queen, but at least we will see her in the afternoon. We won’t be all day without her.’
The kitchen door opened again and Peggy walked in, carrying her son, little Paddy, on one hip and with a small white paper bag in her hand, screwed up at the top. ‘Take these for Angela,’ she said as she placed them on the table, ‘and when you get back come in and tell me how she is.’
Maura wasn’t sure what she was the most surprised at, the fact that Peggy had brought something for Angela or that she hadn’t asked to borrow something. ‘Thank you, Peggy,’ she said. ‘Angela will be really pleased to know you are thinking of her.’
‘We are missing her too, sure we are,’ said Peggy. ‘I never knew how much I didn’t like the quiet – it’s like something is wrong all the while. I’ll never complain about her screeching again.’
Maura struggled to smile, but there was truth in Peggy’s words. She had said a hundred times since Angela had been in hospital, ‘I will never in me life tell our Angela off for crying again, so I won’t.’
Tommy hadn’t dared admit that even though he missed Angela and worried about her as much as everyone else, he loved the quiet. He hadn’t realized how often Angela woke him up during the night with her yelling out, and to come down in the mornings with no one wailing at the table made a nice change. Whenever he found himself thinking that, he was consumed with guilt.
Jerry threw his arm around Maura’s shoulders. ‘Mammy says she will be in when you’ve gone, Maura. She’ll peel your ’tatoes for you and turn the drying over.’
‘You need to wrap up, Maura,’ said Peggy. ‘Jesus, ’tis brass monkeys weather out there. The wind cuts right through you.’
Maura took the knitted scarves and gloves that were warming in front of the fire and began to wrap them around the boys’ necks and cross them over their chests. ‘An extra layer to keep the cold out,’ she said. Kitty grappled with her own scarf while Tommy picked up the brush to finish polishing the shoes.
Half an hour later and after two more visits from neighbours bearing gifts, the Doherty family were ready to leave. Peggy and little Paddy had hung on to the last, Peggy most interested to see what presents were being brought for Angela. Just as the back door was about to close on them, she said, ‘I don’t suppose there is a bit of steri milk left over from breakfast on your cold shelf, is there, Maura?’
Maura took a deep breath. There was – she’d saved it for the rice pudding she was going to make for that evening. But she knew that little Paddy probably hadn’t even had any pobs that morning for his breakfast. She would rather Peggy hadn’t been out and bought the sweets, although she really appreciated the thought. She would have preferred her to look after her own brood a little better. She sighed. ‘Go on. There’s nearly half a bottle. Take it, I will fetch another from the dairy on the way home. Water it down, it will go further.’
And with that, as Peggy clutched the milk, Maura and Tommy herded the Doherty brood out of the back gate, all of them impatient to set eyes on Angela.
*
Sister Tapps woke and for the first time she struggled to sit upright. Louis lay next to her, silent and staring as always, his eyes fixed on her face as though searching for her thoughts. Tappsy felt an itching on her abdomen, so intense she could barely stop scratching, and she hurried to open the buttons of her uniform, which she’d slept in, so that her nails could rake her skin directly. But no matter how much she scratched, she couldn’t get relief. The metallic taste in her mouth was worse and she didn’t feel like either eating or drinking. She turned her head to look at Louis, and the sight of him distracted her from what was now nagging, persistent
pain as well as the new itchiness. She had barely slept with the discomfort and had taken all of the remaining diamorphine during the night.
‘Now, we have to get you some food. Just give me a minute,’ she said to Louis as she tried to heave herself up. It took her three attempts, but eventually she managed it. She’d got water from the washrooms the previous night and it stood in a jug next to the kettle. She’d scrubbed out the milk bottle for Louis and was sure that it was clean enough.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said to him, ‘and make you a bottle. And then we’ll use what’s left of the water to wash your bottom when I change your nappy.’ She looked at the enamel bucket of nappies she’d stored under the sink; they were beginning to smell and she had already decided that while Sister Antrobus, whose room was round the corner at the other end of the corridor, was at work today, she would take them into the washroom. It would be a risk, but a very small one. There’d been not a murmur from the domestics since she’d heard them talking in the hallway the other day. She was certain she and Louis were the only ones in the corridor.
While she waited for the kettle to boil, she slipped out on to the landing to make her way to the bathroom. The coast was clear, but with each step she took, the pain dragged. The diamorphine had made her light-headed and she had to place the flat of her hand on the wall to navigate along it. She had woken a number of times during the night and thought she had seen her sister in the bedroom. Her dreams had been vivid, a girl shouting to her and it was Laura calling her name. Once in the bathroom she splashed water on her face and squinted at the mirror. She refused to acknowledge the gaunt, sallow woman staring back at her. Using the lavatory was difficult and painful and a glance at the dark tea-coloured urine shocked her so much she had to grab hold of the door handle. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘It can’t be.’
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