There was a time when she might have been able to take it all in good part, to laugh and joke and not take any of it too seriously. But those days were gone, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be that young woman again.
She looked up at Miss Tanner. ‘I intend to go to Matron and take full responsibility for what’s happened. But I wondered if you might agree to speak to everyone, get them to agree to perform? I won’t be involved, obviously. The patients are all looking forward to a show, and I don’t like to let them down.’
Miss Tanner was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘Perhaps if you spoke to them yourself—’
‘No, I couldn’t do that.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘They wouldn’t listen to me anyway, and I don’t blame them for it. I’m afraid I don’t inspire the same loyalty as they have for you. They like you.’
‘They’d like you too, if you gave them a chance.’
Charlotte managed a smile. ‘I doubt it, Miss Tanner. I know what they all think of me, and they’re right. I’ll admit, I’m hopeless with people.’
As Charlotte stood up, Miss Tanner said, ‘I spoke to Dr Gruber before he left.’
Charlotte tensed, instantly wary. ‘What did he tell you?’
‘Not much,’ Miss Tanner said. ‘But enough that I could work it out for myself.’ She gazed at Charlotte across the desk. ‘You were there, weren’t you? When they liberated the camps?’
Once upon a time Charlotte might have retreated, denied it and told her to mind her own business. But this time she took a deep breath and nodded.
‘I was one of the first nurses they allowed in.’
She steeled herself. If Miss Tanner asked, then she would answer her, no matter how difficult it might be.
But the ward sister simply nodded and said, ‘I see.’ There was something about the way she said it, as if Charlotte had somehow answered all her questions without really saying anything.
Charlotte stood up. ‘So you’ll talk to everyone?’ she said.
‘I’ll do my best.’
She had reached the door when Miss Tanner said, ‘You know, Miss Davis, you don’t have to shut people out all the time. They will help you, if you’ll only ask.’
There’s no harm in leaning on others occasionally. You don’t have to be strong all the time.
Charlotte heard Major Hugh’s words inside her head, as clear as if he were there, saying them to her himself.
If only she could believe them.
Charlotte spent most of the night rehearsing what she was going to tell Matron the following morning. But to her dismay, Miss Fox was in meetings all day, so she didn’t get the chance to see her.
All afternoon, Charlotte kept looking at the clock on the wall, watching the hands creeping slowly towards six o’clock, when the dress rehearsal was due to start. As it turned past five, she began to hope that perhaps Miss Fox had been so busy she had forgotten all about it.
She was forcing herself to concentrate on the following week’s staff rosters when the door opened and Matron strode in, just before six o’clock.
She seemed surprised to see her. ‘Why, Miss Davis, I didn’t expect to see you here. Surely you should be in the dining hall? The rehearsal is due to start at six, isn’t it?’
Charlotte stared down in confusion at the ink blot her pen had made on the rosters.
‘I—’
‘Or were you waiting for me?’ Miss Fox said, unfastening her cloak and slipping it from her shoulders. ‘I won’t keep you a moment. We’ll walk down together, shall we?’
Charlotte could feel hot blood scalding her cheeks.
‘Matron, I have to tell you something …’ Her voice emerged, barely above a whisper.
‘Tell me what, Miss Davis?’
Charlotte looked up at her. Miss Fox was staring back at her, a quizzical half-smile on her face. ‘It’s about the show,’ she said. ‘You see, I—’
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Miss Fox held up her hand to silence Charlotte for a moment.
‘Enter,’ she called out.
A student nurse stuck her head around the door.
‘Yes?’ said Miss Fox. ‘What do you want, Nurse Philips?’
‘Please, Matron, Sister Jarvis sent me to tell Miss Davis we’re all ready for her in the dining hall when she wants to join us.’
Charlotte stared at the girl, perplexed.
‘Thank you, Philips.’ Miss Fox turned to Charlotte. ‘Shall we go?’ she smiled. ‘We don’t want to keep everyone waiting, do we?’
Charlotte felt as if she was in a state of unreality as she walked beside Miss Fox down the staircase. She had no idea what was going to be waiting for her in the dining hall. Part of her still feared it was all a horrible practical joke, and they would walk into an empty room.
But when Miss Fox swung open the doors, there they were. Two porters were busy hanging up a curtain around the makeshift stage, while a couple of ward maids made last-minute adjustments to a medical student’s costume. All around the dining hall, people were humming tunes, trilling up and down their scales and pacing about, silently trying to memorise their lines.
Charlotte stared around her, unable to believe her eyes. There were fewer performers than there had been originally, but still more than enough to put on a good show.
Miss Tanner sat at the piano, arranging her music in front of her. She looked up at Charlotte and smiled.
‘Are you ready to begin, Miss Davis?’ she said brightly.
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Charlotte went to her usual seat, still feeling dazed. Miss Fox sat beside her.
‘I must say, I’m rather looking forward to this,’ she whispered to Charlotte as the first of the performers took to the stage.
Somehow, for once they all seemed word perfect and in tune. Not that Charlotte would have noticed anyway. She was too stunned to speak for most of the rehearsal. All she could do was sit and watch as act after act took to the stage.
Afterwards, Miss Fox turned to her and said, ‘Thank you, Miss Davis. That was very entertaining. I’m sure the patients will appreciate all your efforts. I must confess, when I first gave you the task I wasn’t sure what kind of job you would make of it. But it seems I was wrong.’
Charlotte blushed guiltily, aware of Miss Tanner listening close by. ‘Matron, there’s something you should know—’
‘Miss Davis?’ Miss Tanner interrupted her. ‘Do you think you could spare a minute to look at the opening music with me? I have a few new ideas, but I need your approval.’
‘Yes, of course. But—’ Before she had a chance to say any more, Miss Tanner’s hand closed on her arm, guiding her firmly away.
‘I don’t think Matron needs to know about our … difficulties with the show, do you?’ the ward sister whispered in Charlotte’s ear. ‘Especially as they’re all in the past now, anyway.’
‘Yes, but surely I should tell her it was you who saved the show?’ Charlotte replied.
‘Why?’
‘Well, because – because it’s only fair.’ Charlotte was troubled. ‘Don’t you want to take the credit for your efforts? You deserve it.’
Miss Tanner shook her head. ‘I’m not interested in taking the credit for anything,’ she said. ‘Besides, I didn’t save the show. Everyone is here because of you.’
Charlotte stared at her, bewildered. ‘Me? Why?’
‘Because we’re a family here,’ Miss Tanner said. ‘We may have our squabbles and our fallings out, but in the end we all care about each other.’
Charlotte looked away, humbled. ‘I owe you an apology,’ she murmured. ‘The way I spoke to you at the last rehearsal … I know you were only trying to give me advice, but I was too pig-headed to accept I needed it.’
‘Oh, it’s all forgotten.’ Miss Tanner brushed her apology away. ‘Besides, it wasn’t all your fault. I could have been more patient with you, but you caught me at the wrong moment, I’m afraid.’
Charlotte looked at Miss Tanner’s profile as she b
ent over her sheet music. She hadn’t noticed before how troubled she looked. Her brown eyes were ringed with deep purple shadows.
Once she might have told herself not to get involved, but this time she took a deep breath and said, ‘Is it to do with your missing relative, Miss Tanner?’
Miss Tanner flashed a look at her. ‘How did you know?’
‘I couldn’t help noticing the newspaper in your office. You’d circled a particular advertisement …’
Miss Tanner was silent for a long time, and Charlotte feared she might have overstepped the mark. But then she said, ‘It’s my mother. She disappeared a couple of weeks ago. She left her lodgings with no forwarding address, and no one seems to know where to find her.’
‘How strange. Might there be a reason for her to leave so suddenly?’
Miss Tanner’s mouth twisted. ‘Me, I think. We haven’t spoken to each other in fourteen years, then she suddenly came back into our lives, and I’m afraid I wasn’t as warm or welcoming as I might have been.’ A faraway look came into her eyes. ‘I just hope nothing has happened to her.’
Charlotte looked at her, seeing the worry etched on her face. She found it quite hard to believe that someone as calm and composed as Violet Tanner might have heartaches she didn’t share with anyone.
And she had thought she was the only one with secrets.
‘I hope you get some good news about your mother soon,’ she said.
‘I’m sure I will.’ Miss Tanner summoned a brave smile. ‘You never know, perhaps a Christmas miracle will happen and she’ll appear on our doorstep to have dinner with us.’
But even as she said it, Charlotte could see the tremble in her lips and the lack of hope in her eyes.
They walked together down to the hospital entrance. As they emerged into the cold, snowy night, the bells started to chime at St Peter’s on the Green, calling people to the Christmas Eve service.
‘Listen to that,’ Miss Tanner said. ‘It’s not that long ago we weren’t allowed to have church bells ringing. It makes you appreciate it all the more, doesn’t it?’
‘Indeed,’ Charlotte said.
‘Well, I go this way.’ Miss Tanner pointed towards the gates. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Miss Davis.’
‘Good night, Miss Tanner. And thank you,’ Charlotte called after her.
She watched the ward sister’s tall, elegant figure picking her way down the long drive towards the porters’ lodge.
Poor Miss Tanner, hoping for her Christmas miracle.
Charlotte had given up believing in miracles the day she walked into Bergen-Belsen, just as she had given up on believing in the goodness of humanity. But being at the Nightingale had convinced her that there were still good people in the world.
And as for miracles … well, she had already witnessed one of those today when she walked into the dining hall, thanks to Miss Tanner.
Surely it might be possible for her to arrange a miracle of her own in return?
Daisy
24th December 1945
Wren ward was busy on Christmas Eve, with several mothers already in labour, determined to have their Christmas babies. On top of that, there were two cases of mastitis, a cracked nipple, a pyelitis and a cystitis to deal with, and a new caesarean in the private room.
Daisy spent all day dashing around, fetching bedpans and fomentations, checking samples and cajoling the urinary infections to drink more fluids.
On top of it all, Mrs Goodwood was making her usual fuss. As if the nurses weren’t all busy enough, she had decided to complain of backache. So as well as all her other tasks, Daisy found herself constantly plumping the woman’s pillows and listening to her complaints.
‘If you ask me, she’s just annoyed that she’s not getting all the attention for once,’ Daisy said to Rose as they changed the post-op’s dressings together. ‘And to think we’ve got to put up with her for the next month!’
It wasn’t until she saw her friend’s stony face that Daisy remembered they were still not speaking to each other. Rose said nothing as she pretended to concentrate on cleaning the wound with antiseptic.
This had gone on far too long, Daisy thought. Over a week had passed since they had spoken to each other, and the silence was killing her. She desperately missed her friend, and she had almost forgotten why she was so angry with her in the first place. But now their argument had taken on a life of its own, and both of them were too proud to make the first move.
They finished changing the dressing and Daisy cleared everything away. As luck would have it, just as they were leaving the room they bumped into Dr Armstrong.
‘Oh, hello.’ He looked straight at Rose as he spoke. ‘Sister Wren has asked me to come up and look at a patient. She thinks there might be a possible thrombosis.’
‘That’ll be the patient in bed seven, Doctor,’ Rose replied, her tone formal.
‘Right. Thank you.’ Tom Armstrong gave them a quick nod, then hurried off down the ward.
Daisy saw the way Rose kept her gaze deliberately averted. She also noticed how Tom Armstrong looked back over his shoulder at her, stealing one final quick glance before Staff Nurse Giles claimed him and ushered him away to where the patient was waiting behind the screens.
They were as wretched as each other, she thought. And it was all her fault.
She opened her mouth to speak but Rose was already gone, pushing the trolley into the sluice to dispose of the dressings.
‘What have you done now?’
Daisy turned round to see Marjorie Carroll, another girl from their set, standing behind her. ‘What?’
‘Trent looked upset just now. I hope it wasn’t something you said?’
Daisy glared at the girl. Marjorie Carroll wasn’t even a particular friend of Rose’s, but like the other girls she had decided to become very protective of her lately.
She was about to tell her to mind her own business, then thought better of it. ‘What do you want, Carroll?’ she snapped. ‘Because if you’ve nothing better to do there’s a mastitis patient in bed two needing another fomentation. Or you could massage Mrs Goodwood’s bad back?’
‘I don’t take orders from you, thank you very much!’ Marjorie Carroll’s chin lifted. ‘Sister wants you to fetch two drip stands from the basement.’
Daisy frowned. ‘Why doesn’t she ask me herself?’
‘She’s gone to the dress rehearsal, hasn’t she?’ Marjorie looked huffy. ‘You can ask Staff Nurse Giles if you don’t believe me, but I’m sure she won’t thank you for interrupting her while she’s with a patient.’
Daisy glanced over at the screens around bed seven. Behind them, Staff Nurse Giles was in consultation with Dr Armstrong.
‘Surely there must be some drip stands in the equipment cupboard?’ she said to Marjorie.
‘Sister wouldn’t ask you to go down to the basement if there were, would she?’ Marjorie sounded impatient. ‘For heaven’s sake, Baker, why are you making such a fuss about it? Surely you don’t believe the basement’s haunted?’
‘No!’ Daisy said quickly. ‘I just didn’t want a wasted journey, that’s all.’
‘Well, if I were you I’d hurry up about it, before Staff Nurse Giles comes back and finds out you’ve disobeyed Sister’s orders. And watch out for those ghosts, won’t you?’ Marjorie called after her.
Daisy ignored her, but her heart was racing as she made her way down to the basement. In spite of what she had said to Marjorie Carroll, she was nervous.
She had heard all the stories about the haunted basement, passed down among the nurses. There was a tale of a tragic young nurse who had given birth in secret down there and then hanged herself in shame. Some claimed to have heard the faint sounds of a baby crying, while others reckoned they had seen a ghostly shape swinging gently from the beams. Other people said they had seen a senior nurse called Miss Hanley, who had been killed at the hospital during the Blitz.
Either way, the basement was not a place any nurse willingly
ventured alone, and especially not after dark.
Daisy tried to push all these thoughts from her mind as she made her way down the narrow flight of stone steps to the heavy wooden door. She pushed it open gingerly and stepped inside.
Almost immediately she was enveloped by inky blackness. The air felt damp and icy against her skin, and there was a reek of damp.
Daisy fumbled for the light, her hand scraping rough brickwork before it found the switch. A bare bulb flickered into life above her head, its dim light barely piercing the gloom. Before her, the basement was divided into long, narrow rows by high cupboards and shelves, each piled with boxes and equipment that cast long, eerie shadows in the light from the open doorway.
Daisy stayed close to the door as she looked around, trying to adjust to the darkness. Now, where to start looking for drip stands?
It was no use, she decided. She would have to venture deeper into the basement and search for them. The quicker she found them, the quicker she could get out of this dreadful place.
She took a deep breath and plunged into the gloom, quietly cursing Sister Wren and Staff Nurse Giles and anyone else she could think of.
She hurried down the narrow spaces between the rows of shelves, searching them frantically. The shelves towered over her, closing her in. She felt as if she was in some horrible maze, with no way of escape.
She turned the corner, and stopped dead. At the far end of the row, a shadowy figure swung gently from the beams, its head lolling, arms dangling by its sides. Daisy screamed, just as the light bulb above her head fizzled, then went out with a pop.
She swung round, blundering in the darkness, trying to get back to the door. The open doorway still cast a dim rectangle of light, showing her the way. She had nearly reached it when she heard the scutter of footsteps behind her. A second later a hand came out of the darkness, closing on her shoulder.
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 21