The Nightingale Christmas Show

by Donna Douglas

  On the way down to the dining hall she met Bill Brigham, a porter on Parry ward. It was hard to miss him, he was such a tall, imposing figure, with his shock of sandy hair and booming voice. It would have been easy to be afraid of Bill, but he was a real gentle giant, and so full of fun all the children loved him.

  Bill had only been working at the Nightingale for a few months, since he came out of the merchant navy. But Peggy knew him of old. She used to chat with his wife Alice when she came into the shop with their little girl.

  ‘Going my way?’ he said.

  ‘Looks like it. I thought I’d be nosey.’

  ‘Me too. Mr Hopkins asked a few of us to make ourselves useful, putting out chairs and the like.’

  But the chairs were already in place by the time they reached the dining room. And they were nearly all occupied, too.

  ‘Looks like we ain’t needed after all,’ Bill said.

  ‘We could still stay for a bit, just to see what’s going on. Look, there are a couple of seats in the middle there …’

  They shuffled their way through the throng and had almost reached the row when Miss Davis suddenly turned round and called out, ‘I say, you two. You can’t sit there, the front row is for staff nurses only. Go to the back!’

  ‘That’s us told!’ Peggy grinned. ‘No one can say we don’t know our place.’

  But Bill stood his ground. ‘Who does she think she is? You’re a nurse, same as them.’

  ‘I ain’t, Bill.’ Peggy shot a quick, embarrassed glance at the nurses who were all looking their way. ‘Come on, let’s get to the back.’

  A couple of the orderlies budged up to make space for them, just as Miss Davis called the meeting to order. She waved a sheet of paper and announced that she expected everyone to put their names down next to their chosen act.

  ‘Are you putting your name down, Bill?’ Peggy asked him.

  He roared with laughter. ‘Me? What could I do?’

  ‘What about your magic tricks?’

  He was famous for them on the ward. He could always coax a smile from a crying child by showing them a card trick, or producing a paper flower out of his pocket.

  ‘You mean like this one?’ Bill reached behind Peggy’s ear and produced a gleaming halfpenny.

  Peggy clapped her hands, earning herself a quick glare from Miss Davis at the front of the hall. ‘You see? You’d be a marvel on that stage.’

  Bill shook his head and looked embarrassed. ‘I’m not one for performing in public.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You’re always doing tricks for the kids.’

  ‘All right, then. I’ll put my name down if you will.’

  ‘You’re having a laugh, ain’t you? Who’d want to see me cavorting about on a stage? I leave that to the likes of Sister Wren.’

  ‘Talk of the devil …’ Bill craned his neck to see what was going on at the front. ‘I think that’s Miss Trott speaking now.’

  ‘It sounds like they’re having a row,’ Peggy said.

  ‘Already? That didn’t take long, did it?’

  Peggy laughed, and Miss Davis promptly turned on her.

  ‘Will you be quiet back there?’ she snapped. ‘If you don’t want to listen to what I have to say then you can leave now.’

  All heads turned in Peggy’s direction and she felt herself flushing with mortification. It was a relief when the meeting broke up shortly afterwards, and she could leave.

  ‘Take no notice of her, Peggy,’ Bill said, as they shuffled out with the others. ‘She’s always having a go at someone. I sometimes feel like I’m back in the navy, listening to her giving her orders. I swear, that woman puts some of my captains to shame!’

  Peggy gave him a watery smile. ‘I don’t think she likes me.’

  ‘I don’t think she likes anyone.’ As she turned to go, Bill said, ‘Just a minute, you forgot something.’

  ‘Did I? I can’t see—’ Peggy turned to look round, as Bill Brigham reached behind her ear and produced another halfpenny.

  ‘For the bus,’ he said, pressing it into her hand.

  Peggy put the Christmas show out of her mind, until a few days later when Bill Brigham came up to the ward to take the tonsillitis patients down to theatre.

  ‘Are you coming to the rehearsal tonight?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t see the point.’

  ‘But you’ve got to come! They’re trying out the acts tonight. It’ll be a laugh.’

  Peggy hesitated. ‘I should get home and cook my old man’s tea,’ she said. Eric always liked it on the table promptly after he’d closed up the shop.

  ‘You don’t have to stay long,’ Bill coaxed her. ‘Come on, Peggy, please? Tell you what, I’ll bring some peanuts, and we can chuck them at the acts we don’t like!’

  ‘I’ll be chucking all mine at Miss Davis, I reckon!’ Peggy smiled ruefully. ‘Oh, go on, then. I s’pose I can spare half an hour. Eric usually does the stocktaking on a Wednesday anyway, so he won’t need his tea too early.’

  It was lucky Bill hadn’t brought any peanuts, or they might have ended up throwing them all. The first rehearsal was a shambles.

  ‘I suppose they’re nervous, poor things,’ Peggy sympathised. ‘I can’t say I’d like to stand up there in front of everyone. Especially Miss Davis.’

  ‘Miss Davis doesn’t scare me,’ Bill said. ‘When you’ve been chased across the North Sea by U-boats for six years, you learn not to be afraid of anything.’

  Peggy said nothing. She knew she shouldn’t feel embarrassed that Eric hadn’t served like Bill. He couldn’t help having a weak chest, after all. And he had done his bit in the ARP.

  But she felt a sting of shame, thinking about her husband’s black-market activities. All those deals done, the mysterious packages that arrived and were kept under the counter for special customers who were willing to pay for them. Meanwhile, their regular customers had to go without. Seeing their disappointed faces after they had queued for so long broke Peggy’s heart, but Eric had been unrepentant.

  ‘You’ve got to make hay while the sun shines, Peg,’ he had said. ‘We ain’t running a charity.’

  The acts went on being terrible, but at least they had a good laugh.

  ‘We shouldn’t laugh,’ Peggy said. ‘I know I wouldn’t have the nerve to stand up and do it. The last time I stood up in public was at Sunday School, and I wet my knickers!’

  Bill laughed, earning himself another angry scowl from the Assistant Matron.

  Next on stage was Dr Armstrong, performing a magic act. Beside her, Bill leaned forward in his seat, watching intently.

  The young doctor didn’t get off to a good start, tripping over his own feet as he stepped up on to the platform.

  ‘Poor man,’ Peggy said. ‘Look at his hands shaking. He must be so nervous.’

  ‘I hope he ain’t training to be a surgeon, in that case, or God help his patients!’

  Peggy laughed again, and Miss Davis shot her another dirty look.

  Dr Armstrong did not get any better. Peggy cringed when the string of colourful handkerchiefs he was pulling from his pocket ended up in a hopeless knot. Then he tried to produce a bunch of flowers from inside his jacket pocket for Miss Davis but they got stuck and he ended up showering her with tattered petals.

  ‘Poor Dr Armstrong!’ Peggy sighed, as he limped off stage, his head hung in shame. ‘You know, you could do better than that, Bill.’

  ‘I couldn’t do a lot worse!’

  She turned to him. ‘Why don’t you?’ she urged.

  ‘I couldn’t—’

  But Peggy was already on her feet and making her way to the front where Miss Davis was sitting.

  ‘Peggy, what are you doing?’ Bill hissed as he followed her.

  The Assistant Matron’s stony expression nearly put her off. ‘Name?’ she snapped.

  Peggy nudged him until he spoke up. ‘Brigham, Miss. Bill Brigham.’

  Miss Davis consulted the paper in front
of her. ‘Your name doesn’t appear to be on my list.’

  Peggy grinned at Bill.

  ‘No, Miss, it won’t be.’ He sent Peggy a sideways glance. ‘It was a bit of a last-minute decision, you might say.’ Poor man, he looked so shocked, it was all Peggy could do not to giggle.

  Miss Davis sighed and put down her pen. ‘And what do you do?’ she asked.

  ‘Magic tricks, Miss.’

  ‘Not again!’ Miss Davis rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I do hope you’re better than the last one.’

  ‘Oh, he is, Miss,’ Peggy said. ‘He’s very good.’

  ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we? You have two minutes, Mr Brigham.’

  Peggy was about to go back to her seat, but Bill caught hold of her arm. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’m going to need an assistant.’

  Peggy realised what he meant and shook her head. ‘I couldn’t!’

  ‘You can, and you will,’ he grinned. ‘Come on, girl. If I’m going to make a fool of myself then you can blooming well join me.’

  Peggy understood how poor Dr Armstrong had felt. Her legs almost gave way as she took her place on the makeshift platform, facing the rows of doctors and nurses. The only thing that kept her there was knowing that she would look an even bigger fool if she fled.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she hissed at Bill out of the corner of her mouth, her terrified gaze still fixed on the rows of faces in front of her.

  ‘Just follow me,’ he whispered back. ‘And twirl around a bit when you get the chance, try to distract them.’

  Peggy sent him a panicked glance. Twirl around a bit? He was having a laugh, wasn’t he? Her feet were rooted to the stage.

  But her nerves seemed to melt away as Bill started doing his tricks and she realised how much the audience was enjoying it. They were watching Bill avidly. Even Miss Davis had stopped frowning for a moment and was leaning forward in her seat, looking fascinated.

  The time passed in a flash, and when it was over they stood side by side on the platform, making awkward bows and grinning sheepishly at each other as the audience applauded them.

  ‘Thank you,’ Miss Davis said. ‘That was quite – acceptable.’

  ‘Talk about damned with faint praise!’ Peggy said, as they stepped off the stage.

  ‘Faint or not, I’m just glad it’s over,’ Bill said. ‘I’m telling you, Peggy, I thought I was going to pass out on that stage!’

  ‘I thought you didn’t scare easily, Bill Brigham?’

  His mouth twisted. ‘Looks like I was wrong about that. Still, at least it’s over now.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ Peggy glanced back over her shoulder at Miss Davis. ‘I reckon you’ve just earned yourself a place in the show.’

  Bill groaned. ‘Oh Gawd, what have we got ourselves into?’

  ‘We?’ Peggy said.

  ‘You don’t think I’m going to get up on that stage on my own, do you? We’re in this together, girl. Besides, you’re my good luck charm.’

  Peggy shook her head, marvelling at herself. ‘Wait until my old man hears about this, he’ll never believe it!’

  She was excited to tell Eric when she got home. But when she walked in and saw his face full of thunder, she promptly forgot all about the Christmas show.

  Peggy’s heart shot into her throat. ‘What is it? What’s wrong? Oh God, it’s not our Alan, is it?’

  The war might be over in Europe, but Alan was still out in India, and Peggy knew she would suffer that horrible, heart-pounding, dry-mouthed fear until he was home safe.

  ‘Keep your hair on, it’s nothing to do with the kids.’ Eric shook his head. ‘It’s your sister.’

  ‘Oh no, what’s she done now?’

  ‘It’s that man of hers. He’s been arrested. You know that big deal he had going on? Turns out he was playing the gigolo, fleecing some rich heiress out of her fortune. Now he’s behind bars and your sister’s in a right old state about it.’

  Peggy sighed. ‘I’d better go and make sure she’s all right.’

  Pearl lay on her bed in Amy’s old room, sobbing like a child into the pillow. Her son Charlie sat at the end of the bed, watching her helplessly. He turned to Peggy, his own face wet with tears.

  ‘She won’t stop crying, Auntie Peg,’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s all right, son.’ Peggy did her best to reassure the frightened boy. ‘Can you leave us alone for a minute so we can have a chat? I’ve got a comic in my bag for you,’ she called after him as he left the room.

  She waited until the door had closed, then sat down on the bed beside her sister. She reached out and stroked the platinum blonde head.

  ‘Oh, Pearl,’ she sighed. ‘What a to-do, eh?’

  ‘I suppose you’re going to say, “I told you so”?’ Pearl said accusingly, her voice muffled by the pillow. ‘Go on, then. Let’s hear it!’

  ‘I’m not going to say any such thing,’ Peggy said. ‘Come on, girl. Why don’t you tell me all about it?’

  ‘Oh, Peggy!’ The next moment Pearl had sat up and launched herself into Peggy’s arms, her face damp against her neck. ‘I thought he was different, I really did.’ Her slender body quivered with sobbing. ‘He called me his queen, he promised me everything. He said we were going to have such a good life together. And all the time he was with her—’

  It’s the same every time, Peggy thought. And Pearl fell for it every time, too. She lost her head and her heart, and more often than not it always ended up the same way, with Peggy having to pick up the pieces.

  But she knew nothing she could say would ever take away her sister’s heartache. All she could do was hold on to Pearl and hug her until the torrent of emotions had poured out of her. First the misery and despair would come, then the fury, and finally some kind of bitter resolution never to be hurt again.

  Until the next time.

  She listened patiently as Peg raged about Ralph, how he was the lowest of the low and the scum of the earth for doing the dirty on her.

  ‘Although I suppose he was only doing it for me,’ she sniffed. ‘He promised us we’d be rich.’

  He was doing it for himself, Peggy thought. If this woman hadn’t found him out he would have been well set up with her, and Pearl would have ended up his bit on the side, being strung along with endless promises.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ Pearl drew back in Peggy’s arms. Her face was ravaged by tears, her carefully applied mascara running in black rivulets over her rouged cheeks.

  ‘You know you’ve always got a home here.’

  ‘Tell that to your old man. He can’t wait to see the back of me.’

  ‘That ain’t true. Eric cares about you as much as I do.’ Peggy hoped her sister didn’t hear the lie in her voice. She didn’t mention that Eric’s last words to her had been, ‘I suppose this means we’re stuck with her for now?’

  ‘I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days stuck behind a bacon slicer!’ Pearl pulled a face. ‘That kind of life might be all right for you, but I’ve always wanted something more.’

  Peggy swallowed the insult. Her sister was just upset, she told herself. ‘I’m sure you’ll get it one day,’ she tried to console her.

  ‘Will I?’ Pearl sniffed back her tears. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘I know you will.’ Peggy smoothed her blonde curls. ‘You’ll see, one day you’ll meet a nice man and settle down. Then you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted.’

  ‘I haven’t met a nice man so far. I’m beginning to think they don’t exist.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong place?’ Peggy ventured, as tactfully as she could, wondering how far she could go.

  Pearl frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Peggy chose her words carefully, aware that the wrong one could send her sister into a screaming rage.

  ‘I mean you always seem to go for the flashy types, the ones who are too fond of a good time.’

  ‘What’s wr
ong with that? I like a good time too.’

  ‘That’s fine, if that’s all you want. But if you’re looking for something more permanent, more secure—’

  ‘I have to look for a man like your Eric?’

  Peggy saw the way her sister’s mouth twisted. ‘You could do worse,’ she snapped, offended. ‘At least my Eric knows how to provide for his family.’

  Pearl’s face fell. ‘I know, Peg. I’m sorry. You and Eric have been so good to me, I’ve no right to make fun.’ She dried her tears with the back of her hand. ‘You’re right, I do need to buck my ideas up,’ she agreed. ‘From now on, there’ll be no flash Harry types. I’ll look for my own knight in shining armour.’

  ‘You do that,’ Peggy said. ‘And I bet you’ll find him sooner than you think.’

  After she had managed to calm her sister down, Peggy went into the living room. Eric was in his usual armchair, reading the evening paper. Nellie squatted opposite in what should have been Peggy’s chair, looking like a miserable toad.

  Eric looked up at her over the edge of his newspaper. ‘Well?’

  ‘She’s resting.’

  ‘Resting?’ Nellie snorted. ‘Anyone would think she was ill!’

  ‘She’s broken-hearted,’ Peggy said. But there was no point in telling that to Nellie. She didn’t have a heart to break.

  ‘And I’m famished,’ Nellie grumbled. ‘When are you going to get the tea on?’

  It wouldn’t hurt you to make a start on it, Peggy thought. ‘I’ll do it now,’ she said, slipping off her coat.

  Eric followed her into the kitchen. ‘So she’s stopping, then?’ he said, as he watched her tying on her apron.

  ‘Looks like it.’ She sent him a sideways glance. ‘If that’s all right?’

  ‘I s’pose it’ll have to be, won’t it? Don’t look like I’ve got much choice in the matter. Mind, she’ll have to start pulling her weight in the shop a bit more. She ought to do something to earn her keep.’

  ‘Oh, she will,’ Peggy promised.

  ‘Although I’d still rather you were there helping me,’ Eric said. ‘Your sister’s got a sharp tongue on her, and the customers don’t like it.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her, make sure she behaves.’