The tune ended and another began. Eve started to move away, grateful to escape, but to her astonishment Dr Jameson held on to her hand.
‘Can’t we have another dance?’ he pleaded.
‘Are you sure?’ She eyed him uncertainly, not sure if he was making fun of her. ‘I’m not a very good dancer,’ she pointed out, as if he hadn’t noticed that by now.
‘You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.’
Eve glanced at Cissy, already making her way off the dance floor.
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I need to see my friend.’
‘The next dance, then?’
‘If you like.’ He probably would have found himself another partner by then, she decided.
Eve caught up with Cissy by the punch bowl. ‘I can’t see Jen anywhere, can you?’ Cissy said, looking around. ‘I hope she hasn’t gone home.’
A thin thread of jealousy snaked its way into Eve’s heart. She wanted to tell Cissy all about her dance with Dr Jameson, to share the exciting details with her and hear her opinion. But Cissy seemed more preoccupied with Jennifer.
‘I shouldn’t have abandoned her like that,’ she said. ‘She was bound to be a bit nervous about coming here on her own.’
‘Probably better for her to go home, in that case.’
Eve knew she’d said the wrong thing when she saw Cissy’s frown. But then she sighed, and said, ‘I suppose you’re right. I’ll go and see her tomorrow, make sure she’s all right.’
The music changed, and suddenly Dr Jameson reappeared at Eve’s side, claiming her for another dance. She was going to refuse him again, but Cissy nodded her encouragement.
‘Go on,’ she whispered. ‘This is your big chance.’
Eve tried to smile as she followed him on to the dance floor. Cissy was right, she told herself. This was her big chance.
This was the night the ugly duckling turned into a swan, and she had to make the most of every minute.
Chapter Forty-Five
IT HAD TAKEN some effort to organise the dance, but it was worth it.
Kathleen gazed around the room with satisfaction. With the threat of air raids still present, the disused ward on the top floor was considered unsafe for patients, but it made a splendid place for a dance, transformed with tinsel and garlands. Mr Hopkins had even performed a Christmas miracle and found a small tree, which they’d decorated with a star on top.
Everyone was there, from student nurses to sisters, housemen to consultants. They had all made an effort and dressed up for the occasion, as if determined to forget the hardships and troubles of the past year and simply enjoy themselves.
Even Miss Hanley was there, looking stately in dark green brocade, keeping vigil by the punch bowl to make sure none of the medical students got any ideas about adding their own ingredients.
‘I suppose this means we won’t be getting a cascara cocktail this year?’
Kathleen turned round to see Mr Cooper standing behind her, looking smart in his evening suit.
‘Not if Miss Hanley has anything to do with it,’ she said.
‘She’s no fun.’ His mouth quirked.
‘Fun? Have you forgotten the year someone laced it with antimony and half the ward sisters ended up in the sick bay?’
He pulled a face. ‘That was fairly ghastly, wasn’t it?’
‘Ghastly isn’t the word.’
‘So what do you say?’ he asked. ‘Shall we live dangerously, and risk a glass?’
‘Why not?’ She smiled back. ‘Although I feel quite confident with Miss Hanley as guardian,’ she added.
‘Oh, me too.’
She watched him as he made his way to the punch bowl. James Cooper was a handsome man, but his evening suit gave him the look of a matinee idol. Some of the young nurses were sending him longing looks as they sat in a row around the dance floor, she noticed.
He returned and handed her a glass of dubious pink liquid. ‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘And may I say how beautiful you’re looking this evening?’
Kathleen looked down at her dress. The dark blue velvet was more serviceable than glamorous. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘One has so few opportunities to dress up these days.’
‘Unless one’s idea of dressing up is a siren suit and tin hat.’ He raised his brows at her over the rim of his glass.
‘True.’ Kathleen looked around the crowd. ‘Is your wife not with you this evening?’
His smile slipped a fraction. ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m afraid Simone dislikes hospital parties.’
‘I suppose they must be rather dull if you don’t know anyone?’
‘Quite.’ He downed some of the punch, then winced.
Kathleen looked at him apprehensively. ‘Oh, dear, don’t tell me they’ve managed to put alcohol in it, after all?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘just the opposite, in fact. It might be improved if they had.’ He leaned in towards her and said, ‘Fortunately I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a flask of medicinal brandy with me, if you’re interested?’
Kathleen laughed, shocked. ‘Mr Cooper! I’m surprised at you.’
‘Do you want some, or don’t you?’
Kathleen sipped the sugary pink punch. It was rather unpalatable. ‘I’m supposed to be setting a good example to the nurses,’ she said.
‘Then we’ll have to be discreet, won’t we?’ He laid his hand on her arm and guided her to the back of the room, as far from Miss Hanley as they could manage.
‘I bet you were a holy terror when you were a student!’ Kathleen said, as he topped up her glass from the small leather hip flask.
He smiled roguishly. ‘I had my moments.’ He raised his glass to her. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ Their eyes met and held for a moment. In the background, the band struck up a lively tune.
‘Do you remember that day we redecorated the ward?’ he asked suddenly.
Kathleen nodded. ‘How could I forget? It was a very rash decision of mine.’
‘It was a very brave decision,’ he corrected her. ‘It was also one of the happiest days of my life.’
He looked so wistful when he said it, Kathleen wondered if she’d heard him correctly.
‘This tune was playing then as I recall.’ He paused for a moment, his head cocked, listening.
“‘The Lambeth Walk”,’ Kathleen nodded. ‘Everyone was dancing to it.’
‘Do you want to dance now?’
His question took her by surprise. She glanced around at the couples who had already taken to the floor. ‘I’m not sure if that’s appropriate.’
‘Why not?’
Without knowing why, she looked towards Miss Hanley, still keeping her fearsome watch over the punch bowl.
‘May I remind you, Miss Fox, that you are Matron of this hospital, not Miss Hanley?’ James Cooper said softly.
‘All the more reason why I shouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of the junior staff.’ She looked longingly towards the dance floor, terribly tempted. She had always loved dancing when she was young. ‘Besides, it’s such a long time since I danced, I’m not sure I’d even remember how,’ she said ruefully.
‘Then allow me to show you.’ He took the glass out of her hand and guided her towards the dance floor. ‘It’s like riding a bicycle,’ he promised. ‘You never forget how to do it.’
Fortunately, by the time they’d taken to the floor, the music had changed to a sedate foxtrot. Kathleen was grateful for the change of pace. She wasn’t sure she would be able to keep up with the lively to and fro of ‘The Lambeth Walk’, let alone master all the steps.
‘This is much more to my taste,’ she said.
‘Mine too.’ He pulled her gently into his arms.
He seemed to hold her closer than he should, so close she could breathe in the scent of his expensive cologne. Kathleen hardly dared tilt her head, knowing that if she did she would be gazing straight into his eyes, her face only inches from his. But at the same time, she felt the pull of his
gaze until she couldn’t look away any longer . . .
And then the siren sounded, drowning out the music, and every muscle in Kathleen’s body tensed.
Not again, she thought. Please God, not tonight. Let us have one night of joy, at least . . .
The double doors flew open and two of the medical students burst in, their faces alight with excitement.
‘They’ve got St Paul’s!’ one of them exclaimed. ‘The whole city’s alight!’
Everyone ran to see what was going on, donning their tin hats and climbing the metal staircase to the roof for a better view. Only Kathleen and James stayed behind, holding back as the tide of people rushed past them.
‘Aren’t you going up to look?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could bear it. I’ve seen enough destruction over the past few months to last me a lifetime.’
‘I know what you mean.’ He took out his hip flask and passed it to her again. ‘I hope to God they haven’t really got St Paul’s,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know why, but it would just feel like the end.’
Kathleen nodded in mute understanding. As the Blitz had raged around them, wreaking destruction day and night for weeks, the cathedral had remained untouched, a proud and defiant symbol of the city’s enduring heart. If that heart were destroyed, then perhaps the heart would go out of the people, too.
‘I thought it had stopped,’ she whispered. ‘I really thought they’d leave us alone now.’ For the first time in months she had allowed herself the faintest hope. The Luftwaffe had turned its attention to other cities, and much as Kathleen pitied them, at the same time she couldn’t help feeling a kind of relief. They had started to emerge from their basements, to feel the cold December air on their faces.
‘Perhaps it’s just for tonight?’ James suggested.
‘It won’t be. This is the beginning of another assault. We didn’t cave in last time, so he’s trying again. And this time it will be even worse.’ Her voice hitched, betraying her despair.
‘It’ll be all right,’ James soothed. ‘We’ll get through it.’
‘I don’t think I can bear it, not again. I’m not brave enough . . .’
‘You’re braver than you think.’ He reached out and took her hand, a brief squeeze of reassurance which imperceptibly took on a new meaning when his fingers slowly curled around hers, his thumb tracing her knuckles with a delicate touch that made her catch her breath. Kathleen froze, not daring to breathe. She knew she should pull away, but after standing alone for so long, it felt too good to have someone to hold on to. If she didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge what was happening, perhaps the moment would never end.
And then, suddenly, it did.
They sprang apart like guilty children as the ward doors flew open and Miss Hanley appeared.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, Matron . . . Mr Cooper . . . but I’m afraid we have an emergency.’
Chapter Forty-Six
A YOUNG WOMAN had gone into labour in Stepney. The ambulances had all been diverted to the city to deal with bomb casualties, and there was no one to help her.
‘Isn’t there someone else who can assist? A mother or a neighbour?’ James Cooper asked.
Miss Hanley shook her head. ‘It was a neighbour who made the call. The poor girl has been in labour for some hours, and it sounds like a complicated delivery. The neighbour said the mother is exhausted and showing signs of distress.’
James frowned. ‘I suppose I shall have to go and see her.’
‘But you can’t!’ The words were out before Kathleen could stop them. ‘It’s far too dangerous out there.’
‘What choice do I have?’
They looked at each other for a moment. ‘Then I’m coming with you,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t allow you to do that. As you said, it’s far too dangerous.’
‘But you’re going to need a nurse with you. And I’m not prepared to risk another girl’s life out there.’
An explosion crashed overhead, shaking the ground and making them both flinch. They stared at each other for a moment, then he said shortly, ‘Very well. I’d appreciate your help.’
Outside the air was filled with smoke and the smell of cordite. There were no ambulances to be had, so James said they would take his car.
‘In that case, we’ll need mattresses,’ Kathleen said.
James stared at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’ve seen it done on a delivery van a couple of months ago. We’ll strap a couple to the roof of your car. It might not stop a direct hit, but at least it will offer us some kind of protection. That’s the idea, anyway.’
They made an odd sight, driving through the streets of the East End with a pair of old hospital mattresses strapped to the roof of their car. Meanwhile, a fierce firework display exploded over the city, lighting up the night sky with a spectacular fiery glow of red and amber, every building seemingly ablaze.
It was difficult to find the house. They kept being directed away by the ARP wardens and the firemen. On practically every corner they were told, ‘You can’t come through here, half the street’s come down.’
‘It’s like hell,’ James commented, as he swung the car round yet again. ‘I’m half expecting to get there and find the poor girl giving birth on the pavement.’
‘Don’t.’ Kathleen shuddered. ‘Look, they’ve shut that road off, too. Perhaps we’re better off abandoning the car and trying on foot?’
He sent her a quick look. ‘Are you sure? It seems rather hectic out there.’
As if to prove it, an incendiary exploded on the roof above them, showering them with sparks.
Kathleen covered her head with her hands. ‘We’ve survived this far,’ she said grimly.
They ran for it. James grabbed her hand in the darkness, pulling her through the debris-strewn streets.
When they found the house, the door was already open, and, once inside, they could hear the sound of screaming.
‘It’s coming from round the back,’ James said. ‘She must be in the shelter.’
In the backyard, they were met by an anxious-looking woman.
‘Oh, thank God you’ve come!’ she cried. ‘I’ve put her in the Anderson shelter, just in case. She’s in a terrible way, poor kid.’
James went straight to the shelter while Kathleen took charge in the kitchen. She instructed the woman to boil some water and find as many clean towels as she could.
‘I tried to help her,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve had five myself, so I thought I knew what was what. But when I saw how much she was struggling . . .’
‘Is it her first?’ Kathleen asked, as she washed her hands with a slab of hard green soap.
The woman nodded. ‘And she’s just found out her husband’s been killed. He was in the RAF, shot down in a dogfight, he was. This baby’s all she’s got left, bless her heart.’
James Cooper had already examined the girl by the time Kathleen got to the shelter.
‘The baby’s breech,’ he said. ‘She’s fully dilated, but I can’t feel the feet.’
‘So the legs are extended? No wonder it’s taking so long.’ Kathleen looked at the poor girl, sprawled on the earth floor of the shelter. She looked exhausted, but Kathleen knew her labour pains would not be enough for her to push the baby out by herself. ‘Should we try to get her to hospital, do you think?’
‘There’s no time.’ James’s face was rigid, but Kathleen could read the calculations going on behind his eyes. A breech presentation, legs extended, usually required a caesarean in a first-time mother. ‘Give her a sedative, and let’s see if we can help her.’
The next half an hour felt like the longest of Kathleen’s life. She stayed determinedly at James’s side, checking the baby’s heartbeat as he struggled to deliver the child. He was utterly silent, all his concentration focused on getting the legs out, then carefully rotating the baby’s body to bring the shoulders and arms down before he could deliver the head.<
br />
Kathleen held her breath as he performed the last part of the manoeuvre. She saw the child’s lifeless-looking body emerge, its bluish-grey skin mottled with blood and greasy white vernix, and her hopes sank. But then, miraculously, a hiccup shook the tiny body and the baby let out a thin, reedy cry that filled the tin shelter, just as the All Clear was sounding.
‘It’s a boy.’ James’s voice was choked. As he turned to Kathleen she saw the emotion written all over his face.
And she found herself crying too, later, when she placed the baby in his mother’s arms for the first time. She and the neighbour stood at the foot of the bed, tears running down their faces as they watched the young woman’s face light up at the sight of her baby son.
‘Poor love,’ the older woman said. ‘She hasn’t had much to smile about up till now. Perhaps this next year will bring us all something good, eh?’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Kathleen smiled through her tears.
They drove back to the hospital, through the now-quiet streets. The bombs had stopped falling, but the firemen and the ARP wardens were still out, dampening down the fires among the smouldering wreckage.
‘It’s been quite an evening, hasn’t it?’ James broke the silence.
‘This is one Christmas dance I certainly won’t forget in a hurry.’ Then Kathleen remembered something and glanced down at herself. ‘You do realise we’re still wearing evening dress?’
‘Good Lord, so we are!’ James laughed. ‘What on earth must that poor woman have made of us, turning up like this? We look as if we’ve just come from the opera!’
After an evening of such high drama, the last thing Kathleen wanted to do was sleep. So when James suggested they should have a nightcap to celebrate the baby’s safe arrival, she accepted without hesitation.
They went down to his office in the basement. It was a tiny space, made even more cramped by the heavy wooden desk, leather chairs and examination couch crammed into it. Behind the desk was a mattress, strewn with bedclothes.
Nightingales at War Page 30