Nightingales at War

by Donna Douglas

  Perhaps that was just the way friends were with each other, she thought, as she finished the job and covered Jennifer with a dry blanket. She had never had a close friend of her own, so she didn’t know.

  Then it was Jennifer’s turn to perform the blanket bath. She made no effort to hide her disdain for the task as she roughly set about Eve’s face and limbs with the sponge.

  ‘Just think, soon we’ll be doing this for a real patient,’ Eve tried again to make conversation.

  Jennifer gave a bored sigh. ‘I can’t wait.’

  Before Eve could reply, the instructor came over.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ she asked.

  ‘All right,’ Jennifer replied.

  ‘I think that’s for your patient to judge, don’t you?’ The woman turned to Eve. ‘What do you say about it, Miss Ainsley? If you were a patient, would you feel reassured by Miss Caldwell’s treatment?’

  Eve caught Jennifer’s warning look over the instructor’s shoulder. ‘Yes, Miss,’ she mumbled, her blush rising.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ The instructor sent her a sceptical look, but didn’t question her further. She turned back to Jennifer and said, ‘It’s a pity you can’t look the part as well, Miss Caldwell. How many times do I have to remind you, the rules governing a VAD’s appearance are the same as for any other trained nurse? There is to be no make-up or jewellery, hair must be covered at all times, and nails are to be unvarnished and cut short.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ Jennifer waited until she had gone, then rolled her eyes. ‘How typical! The first time she could actually say something nice, and all she can do is look for faults. I really don’t think that woman likes me.’ She held up her hands, displaying her pink-painted nails. ‘Well, I don’t care what she says. I’m not cutting these off for anyone.’

  The class dragged on and finally finished just after nine. Eve panicked as they stepped into the darkness of the blacked-out street. She watched Jennifer arranging her hat on her dark curls, wondering if she should say anything. Finally, fear drove her to blurt out, ‘Do you mind if I walk home with you?’

  ‘Why? Don’t tell me you’re frightened of the dark?’ Jennifer mocked. Then she caught sight of Eve’s expression and her mouth twisted. ‘You are, aren’t you? For goodness’ sake, what a baby!’

  So would you be, if you’d been locked in a cellar as often as I have, Eve thought, but didn’t reply.

  ‘Why don’t you get the bus, if you’re that scared?’ Jennifer said.

  ‘The bus doesn’t always run at this time, not since they changed the timetable. I waited ages for it last week, and it didn’t come.’ Eve hadn’t got home until after ten o’clock, and her aunt had gone mad. She didn’t want to risk that again.

  Jennifer sighed. ‘All right, I suppose you could walk with me,’ she agreed. ‘But only as far as Cable Street, mind. I’m not going out of my way.’

  But they hadn’t got as far as the corner before a sleek black car drew up beside them and a man’s voice said, ‘Going my way?’

  Eve was so startled she almost broke into a run. But Jennifer gave a funny little smile of recognition and sauntered over to the car.

  ‘Depends where you’re going, doesn’t it?’ she purred.

  ‘Wherever you like, sweetheart.’

  ‘I suppose you could give me a lift home.’ Jennifer shrugged. She opened the car door, then turned to Eve. ‘Are you coming, or what?’

  Eve stood rooted to the spot, dry-mouthed with panic. ‘I – I can’t,’ she said.

  Jennifer’s mouth twisted. ‘What d’you mean, you can’t? Don’t tell me you’re frightened of cars as well as the dark?’

  Eve stared at her. She simply couldn’t imagine what her aunt would do if she saw her getting out of a stranger’s car. And even if Aunt Freda didn’t see her, one of her church cronies was bound to be spying. Word would get back to her aunt, and then Eve’s life wouldn’t be worth living.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Jennifer said carelessly, climbing into the passenger seat. ‘Don’t let those monsters get you in the dark, will you?’

  The man flashed a wolfish grin at her in the darkness of the car. He looked every bit as dangerous as he had that night when he’d rescued her at the dance hall.

  ‘Alone at last,’ he murmured. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to get out too, while you’ve got the chance?’

  Jennifer’s heart raced in her chest. ‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  His smile broadened. ‘I like a girl who ain’t afraid to take chances.’

  Jennifer did her best to act cool. ‘Haven’t seen you around for a while,’ she commented.

  ‘Been looking for me, have you?’

  ‘No!’ she replied, a bit too quickly. No need to let him know she’d been back to the Palais every Friday.

  He looked over his shoulder, pulling into the road. ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  ‘Flint Terrace,’ Jennifer replied. Then, remembering her father would be at home, she added, ‘But you can drop me in Cable Street. I don’t want to go all the way.’

  ‘I bet you say that to all the boys!’ the man said.

  Jennifer laughed, but her palms were clammy. Perhaps Eve had the right idea, after all? It suddenly occurred to Jennifer that she might have been a bit rash, climbing into a car with a virtual stranger in the dead of night. She barely knew him, apart from that one incident when he’d rescued her from the soldier. She could only imagine what Cissy would say about it.

  ‘So where have you been this evening?’ he asked. ‘Out with your boyfriend?’

  ‘If you must know, I’ve been to nursing class.’

  ‘You’re going to be a nurse?’

  ‘No, I’m going to be a bricklayer, what do you think?’

  His mouth slanted. ‘I bet you’ll make a good nurse. I wouldn’t mind waking up to find a pretty girl like you at my bedside!’

  ‘Cheeky!’ Jennifer smiled, forgetting her nerves. She loved flirting, and he was a good partner. Not every man understood the rules, but he did. ‘If you’re going to talk to me like that, you ought to tell me your name.’

  ‘It’s Johnny. Johnny Fayers.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. I’m—’

  ‘Jen,’ he said. ‘I heard your mate speak to you the first night we met.’

  Jennifer did her best to look aloof, but inside she was squirming with pleasure. He’d remembered her, that was a good sign. ‘Jennifer Caldwell, actually.’

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Caldwell.’

  She looked across at his profile, craggy in the moonlight. His slicked-back dark hair emphasised his flattened nose and the silvery scar running down his cheek. He was a few years older than her, she guessed. His presence seemed to fill the car, the smell of his cologne, the powerful, masculine scent of him. Cissy was right, he was definitely dangerous.

  ‘How did you get that scar?’ She said the first thing that came into her head.

  ‘You’re not backward in coming forward, are you?’ He smiled. ‘If you must know, I was in a fight.’

  ‘Did you win?’

  ‘I always win, darlin’.’

  Jennifer studied him from under her lashes, noticing his height and his muscular build under his suit jacket. ‘You look like you can take care of yourself,’ she remarked.

  ‘I reckon I can, at that.’

  Johnny glanced across at her, and she caught the challenging glint in his eye. ‘So don’t your boyfriend mind you getting lifts off strange men?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t got a boyfriend.’

  His brows lifted. ‘No? I’m surprised. Pretty girl like you, I thought you’d be courting.’

  ‘For your information, I have plenty of offers. Just no one serious.’

  ‘Prefer to play the field, eh? You sound like a girl after my own heart.’

  ‘Something like that.’ Jennifer craned her neck to peer into the darkness. ‘You can drop me off here.’

  ‘You sure y
ou don’t want me to take you to your door? It’s not safe, you know, in the blackout. You get all kinds of ne’er-do-wells hanging about.’

  ‘I know. I’m looking at one,’ Jennifer said.

  He put his hand to his heart and pretended to be wounded. ‘You’re a very cruel young lady, do you know that?’

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  He pulled the car up and she started to get out.

  ‘Well, thanks for the lift,’ she said.

  ‘It was my pleasure.’

  She paused, waiting for him to ask her out. They all did, sooner or later.

  ‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘Was there something else you wanted?’

  ‘No,’ Jen replied, disappointment making her voice sharp. ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘Well, then, I’ll bid you goodnight.’

  As she got out of the car, Jennifer caught a glimpse of Johnny’s knowing smile and slammed the door angrily in his face.

  She stood on the pavement in the darkness and watched him drive off, the blackness swallowing up the car at the end of the road. Was he teasing, or was he really not interested in her? It was hard to tell.

  Jennifer frowned. She had always fancied herself as being very good at the flirting game. But she had the distinct feeling she’d met her match.

  Chapter Eleven

  EVE WATCHED THE car disappearing off into the darkness, and wondered if she’d done the right thing. Not that she’d had much choice, she told herself. Even if she’d tried to stop Jennifer going, she doubted if she would have taken any notice.

  Eve was worried for her, but at the same time she couldn’t help admiring her. Jennifer Caldwell was utterly fearless, striding out boldly in her heels, her head held high under the cheeky angle of her hat. How Eve wished she could be more like her, so sure of herself and filled with confidence, instead of being scared of her own shadow.

  She looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the all-enveloping darkness of the blacked-out street. She started walking, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other in the darkness. Every so often someone would brush past her, knocking her sideways, followed by a muttered apology and receding footsteps before she had even managed to recover her balance.

  She headed towards the river, following the acrid, tarry smell that hung on the warm night air. Somewhere ahead of her lay the shining ribbon of the Thames. But as she walked further, she began to realise that all was not as it should be. Instead of narrow terraces of houses, great warehouses seemed to loom up on every side of her. As she looked up, she thought she could make out the tall, skeletal shape of a crane.

  Eve stopped, trying to get her bearings, panic filling her chest. Somewhere she must have taken a wrong turn, come down a side road. Instead of seeing the familiar shops of Cable Street, she had ended up close to the docks.

  And then she heard the footsteps, coming out of the darkness behind her.

  Eve held her breath and listened. It was her imagination, she told herself. Fear was playing tricks on her. But the footsteps were definitely getting closer. Sinister footsteps – not quick and purposeful, but slow, heavy, dragging . . .

  Panicking, Eve ran blindly out into the middle of the road, and straight into the path of a bicycle.

  She heard a screech of brakes, and the next thing she knew she was sitting in the middle of the road, a tall shape bending over her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ a male voice asked.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit shaken, that’s all.’ Eve scrambled to her feet, brushing herself down.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t see you until it was too late. Did I hit you? I thought I was going slowly.’

  ‘Really, I’m quite all right. It was my fault for dashing out into the road.’

  She paused, listening. The heavy, dragging footsteps had vanished. Just her imagination after all, she decided. And now the moon had emerged from behind a cloud, she could finally make out where she was, too.

  ‘It’s Eve, isn’t it?’

  She looked up into the face of the stranger. In the dim, silvery moonlight, she could vaguely make out his tall, slim outline looming over her.

  ‘I’m Oliver – Reverend Stanton’s son? We met on Sunday at church.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ She recognised him now she could just about make out his features in the gloom.

  ‘Perhaps I could walk you home, since we’re both heading the same way?’ Oliver offered.

  ‘Really, there’s no need.’

  ‘But it’s the least I can do, after giving you a scare like that—’

  ‘I said no!’ Eve cut him off, nerves making her abrupt. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ she said, more calmly.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure?’ She could hear from the faltering of his voice that she had offended him. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t imagine what her aunt would do if she turned up with a young man in tow. Even if it was Reverend Stanton’s son.

  ‘Quite sure, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting back. My aunt will be worried if I’m late.’

  ‘Of course. It was nice meeting you again,’ he called after her. But his voice was already lost in the distance as Eve hurried away.

  Aunt Freda was waiting for her, sitting tall and gaunt in the high-backed armchair beside the unlit kitchen fireplace. She was half asleep, her Bible resting in her lap. But her eyes snapped open as soon as Eve walked in.

  ‘You’re late,’ she remarked.

  ‘I had to walk all the way back from my class, and I got lost in the dark.’

  ‘Got lost? I’ve never heard such nonsense. Surely you should know your way by now? Unless you’ve been up to no good,’ she said.

  Eve thought guiltily about running into Oliver Stanton. She wondered if she should tell her aunt about it, but there was really nothing to tell.

  Thankfully, for once her aunt changed the subject. ‘Now you’re back you can make yourself useful and put the kettle on,’ she said. ‘I have a slight headache.’ She pressed her fingers to her temples.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Aunt. Shall I fetch you an aspirin?’

  ‘If I’d wanted an aspirin, I would have asked for one, wouldn’t I?’ Aunt Freda shot back. ‘Just make a cup of tea, and be quick about it.’

  Eve picked up the kettle and filled it at the sink.

  ‘How much longer are these wretched classes going to go on?’ Aunt Freda asked. ‘You know I don’t approve of you being out until all hours.’

  ‘Tonight was the last one.’ Eve lit the gas and put the kettle on the hob to heat. ‘I start work at the hospital next week.’

  She sensed it was the wrong thing to say. Aunt Freda was already vexed about her abandoning the shop to work as a VAD three days a week.

  ‘Yes, well, we shall have to see about that,’ she muttered. But before she could say any more, there was a loud knock on the front door that startled them both. Aunt Freda sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘Who on earth is calling at this time of night?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll go, shall I?’ Eve started towards the door, but her aunt put out a hand to stop her.

  ‘Certainly not. It’s my house, and I shall answer my own front door.’

  She rose stiffly to her feet and headed up the passageway. Eve warmed the pot and spooned in the tea and wondered if her aunt was going to make much fuss about her going to work at the hospital. Taking the First Aid classes had made her realise how much she wanted to put her skills into practice. But she didn’t want to show what it meant to her, because then her aunt would forbid it completely.

  At least she had the law on her side, thought Eve. She had to do some kind of war work, whether her aunt liked it or not. She just had to approach it very carefully . . .

  She turned round and almost dropped the teapot when she saw her aunt standing silently in the doorway.

  Eve put her hand to her hammering heart. ‘Oh, Aunt, you gave me quite a start—’

  Then she saw the leather strap han
ging loosely from her aunt’s hand, and a ripple of dread ran through her. She straightened up, trying not to tremble. ‘Aunt Freda?’ she whispered.

  ‘You had a visitor,’ Aunt Freda said. She held out her other hand, and Eve saw her own purse. ‘Reverend Stanton’s son. He says you dropped this earlier on?’ Her brows arched questioningly over cold, hard eyes.

  ‘I can explain . . .’ Eve started to say. But the leather strap whistled through the air, catching the back of her hand with a sharp crack. Eve flinched back, snatching her hand away.

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to me!’ Aunt Freda’s voice rasped. ‘I don’t want to hear your lies.’ She advanced towards Eve, her eyes pinpricks of venom. ‘You’ve been sneaking around behind my back, haven’t you?’

  ‘N-no, Aunt. I—’

  ‘And I suppose you’ve been lying to me about those classes of yours, too, haven’t you? Telling me you’re off learning to be a nurse, when all the time you’ve been getting up to all sorts!’

  Eve backed away, her eyes fixed on the twitching leather strap. ‘I haven’t, Aunt, honestly. I was walking home, and he ran into me on his bicycle. I – I must have dropped my purse then.’

  ‘Liar!’ The leather strap cracked through the air again, narrowly missing her. Aunt Freda advanced towards her, face taut with fury. Eve’s legs buckled and she groped behind her, fingers closing around the worn wood of the draining board.

  ‘I swear to you, Aunt, it’s the truth.’

  ‘Swear, would you? So you’re a blasphemer as well as a whore.’ Aunt Freda’s face twisted. ‘I should have known, no matter what I did you’d turn out just like your mother.’

  ‘But Aunt—’

  ‘You need to be punished.’ Aunt Freda’s voice was suddenly low and calm, belying the madness in her eyes. ‘I will not have a lying whore in this house, do you understand me? You need to have the evil beaten out of you, for your own good.’

  ‘Aunt, please,’ Eve begged, her voice hoarse with fear.

  ‘It’s for your own good, child. “He that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done.” Colossians, chapter three, verse twenty-five. How do you ever expect to learn, if no one teaches you a lesson?’