Nightingale Wedding Bells

by Donna Douglas

  Donna Douglas

  * * *

  NIGHTINGALE WEDDING BELLS

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  About the Author

  Donna Douglas lives in York with her husband and two cats. They have a grown-up daughter. When she is not busy writing, she is generally reading, watching Netflix or drinking cocktails. Sometimes all at the same time.

  Also available by Donna Douglas

  The Nightingale Series

  The Nightingale Girls

  The Nightingale Sisters

  The Nightingale Nurses

  Nightingales on Call

  A Nightingale Christmas Wish

  Nightingales at War

  Nightingales Under the Mistletoe

  A Nightingale Christmas Carol

  The Nightingale Christmas Show

  A Nightingale Christmas Promise

  The Nurses of Steeple Street Series

  The Nurses of Steeple Street

  District Nurse on Call

  To my beautiful grandson, Sebastian

  Acknowledgements

  Big thanks to Emily Griffin and the amazing team at Arrow for all of your hard work and dedication. Producing a book is much more than putting words on the page. It has to be edited and proof read, a beguiling cover has to be created and enticing copy has to be written, and then last but by no means least someone has to go out there and sell it. It has been great working with you all to create and develop the Nightingale series. I owe so much to you guys.

  And let’s not forget my wonderful agent, Caroline Sheldon – who has championed me through thick and thin – and my family, who must at times have wondered whether it would be easier if I just went out and got ‘A Proper Job’.

  Finally, a big thank-you to all the readers who have followed the Nightingales’ journey from the first book. What a journey it’s been! I’m so grateful for all of your support and enthusiasm for the series. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading the stories as much as I’ve enjoyed telling them. And I hope you will stay with me and enjoy all of the stories that are still to come.

  CHAPTER ONE

  1917

  ‘Look out, lads. Here comes the Agony Wagon!’

  There was a grin on the young corporal’s face as he called out, but Anna could see the fear in his eyes as he watched her push the dressings trolley down the ward.

  All the men dreaded the dressings round. Some would start screaming as soon as they saw the trolley. Others would wait, white-faced and mute with terror, knowing their turn would soon come.

  Others, like Corporal Bennett, would crack feeble jokes to hide their nerves.

  ‘Has it grown back, Nurse?’ he asked, as Anna tentatively peeled the bloody dressing from the raw stump where his left arm had once been.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Corporal.’ Anna tried her best to smile back at him. Corporal Bennett was one of her favourites on the ward. He had arrived with the latest convoy, sent over from France a few days earlier. He was twenty-seven, two years older than her and the same age as her fiancé Edward.

  Corporal Bennett grinned. ‘Oh, well, I s’pose I’d best write to my pals in France and ask ’em to look for my old one, eh? I seem to recall I left it in a dugout somewhere near Passchendaele.’

  Beside her, Staff Nurse Hanley tutted. ‘Do get on with it, Nurse! That poultice will be stone cold by the time you put it on!’

  Anna sent her a sideways glance. She dreaded doing the dressings round, but she dreaded doing it with Staff Nurse Hanley even more. The older woman towered over her, as big and strong as a man, not an ounce of compassion or sympathy in her square-jawed face.

  ‘Best do as she says, Nurse.’ Corporal Bennett was gritting his teeth now, his whole body tensing, ready for what was to come. ‘Get it over with.’

  Anna removed the cloth covering the enamel dish and took out the steaming poultice. She took a deep breath, gave the young soldier a quick nod to make sure he was ready, then pressed the hot poultice to his raw wound.

  Corporal Bennett hissed with pain, tears springing to his eyes. It was for his own good, Anna told herself over and over again. The poultice would keep the wound clean and fresh, to give it the best chance to heal properly.

  She turned her gaze away from the young man’s anguished face and looked towards the window instead. It was late-September and the rain was still coming down as it had for the past week. A dreary curtain of water streamed down the glass, blurring her view of the world outside. Even though it was ten o’clock in the morning, the sun still hadn’t emerged. It lurked behind a dense pall of grey cloud, draining the life and colour from the streets of London’s East End.

  But it was worse in France, Anna thought. Edward had written to tell her that it hadn’t stopped raining there all summer. The near-constant drizzle had filled the craters with muddy slime. The field drains had been shattered by the weight of the constant bombardment, and even when the rain did stop there was never enough sunshine to dry out the ground. His letters made her weep, with their stories of living and sleeping knee-deep in icy water, and the men he knew who had died in the man-made swamp.

  Please, God, don’t let Edward die. Anna sent up the same silent, beseeching prayer she had said for him every day for the past three years.

  ‘That’s enough, Nurse!’

  The rasp of Staff Nurse Hanley’s voice made Anna jump. She looked up at the woman’s unsmiling face, her thick brows drawn over glacial grey eyes. Then she looked down at her own hand, still pressing the poultice to Corporal Bennett’s wound. He was managing to still smile but his teeth were gritted in agony, and beads of perspiration had formed on his brow.

  ‘Oh, Lord, I’m sorry.’ Anna snatched the poultice away, dropping it back in the enamel bowl.

  ‘You were away with the fairies, Nurse!’ Corporal Bennett joked feebly.

  ‘She had no business to be,’ Nurse Hanley snapp
ed. ‘Her attention should be on what she is doing.’

  ‘Oh, I dunno.’ The soldier winked at Anna. ‘I don’t blame you for being miles away. I would be too, if I could.’

  Anna looked at the raw stump of his shoulder and felt a pang of guilt. ‘Nurse Hanley is right,’ she said. ‘I could have hurt you, and I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t suppose you could do worse than those bloody Huns, Nurse. Pardon my French!’

  Anna quickly set about dressing the corporal’s wound. All the time she was aware of Staff Nurse Hanley’s severe gaze on her, making her fumble nervously.

  You’re a qualified nurse, just the same as she is, Anna reminded herself. But ten years her senior as she was, Veronica Hanley still treated her like a probationer.

  ‘Duffield! What do you think you’re doing?’

  Sister’s voice rang down the ward. Nurse Hanley rolled her eyes heavenwards.

  ‘Not again!’ she murmured.

  Corporal Bennett grinned. ‘What’s she done this time?’

  Anna risked a glance down the ward at her friend and fellow nurse Grace Duffield. She stood by the door to the linen store, her hands clasped in front of her, being told off by the ward sister. Even with her head hanging, Grace’s lanky frame still towered over the much shorter and rounder outline of Miss Sutton.

  ‘That girl is a menace,’ Veronica Hanley muttered.

  ‘Don’t be so hard on her. She’s got a heart of gold,’ Corporal Bennett said.

  Anna shot him a quick, grateful look. She’d wanted to say the same thing, but she knew better than to answer Nurse Hanley back.

  ‘It takes more than a good heart to make a good nurse,’ Hanley snapped.

  What would you know about that? Anna thought. So far as she could tell, Nurse Hanley barely had a heart at all.

  Anna looked back over her shoulder at Grace, lolloping away towards the sluice, her head still down. Poor girl, she couldn’t help being so clumsy. They had trained together and Anna knew it was a constant struggle for her friend, keeping those long, angular limbs of hers in check.

  Anna finished dressing Corporal Bennett’s shoulder, and stepped back.

  ‘There, all done. Now, can I get you anything else?’

  She saw the cheeky glint in the young man’s eye and knew what was coming next.

  ‘A kiss would be nice.’ Corporal Bennett puckered his lips.

  Once upon a time she might have blushed and fled. But after three years on the wards, Anna was quite used to the men’s sense of humour.

  She straightened his bedclothes. ‘Now, Corporal,’ she said primly. ‘You know very well I’m spoken for.’

  ‘You can’t blame a fellow for trying, can you?’ Corporal Bennett turned to Nurse Hanley. ‘How about you, Nurse? Or are you spoken for, too?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Nurse Hanley retorted, turning crimson. She turned on her heel and walked away, pushing the trolley before her like a chariot.

  Corporal Bennett winked at Anna. ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ he whispered. ‘For a minute there, I thought she was going to say yes. It would have been like kissing my old sergeant major!’

  Anna laughed, then quickly straightened her face as Staff Nurse Hanley summoned her.

  ‘When you’re quite ready, Nurse?’ she snapped.

  Anna scurried to join her at the foot of the next bed, where another young soldier was already whimpering in fear.

  This time Nurse Hanley took charge. Anna watched as the senior nurse set about removing the man’s dressings. His screams went right through Anna and she looked away as the dressings tore further skin from the raw flesh. But Nurse Hanley did not even flinch.

  ‘The Dakin’s Solution, Nurse, if you please.’

  Anna jumped to attention and handed her the dark brown bottle from the trolley. But she was clearly not quick enough for Staff Nurse Hanley, who regarded her through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, Nurse?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Staff.’

  ‘Only you don’t seem to be very with it.’ Nurse Hanley peered at her. ‘And you look tired. Are you tired, Nurse?’

  ‘No, Staff.’ Anna straightened her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Nurse, I can see it in your face. You’re pale and drawn, and you have dark circles under your eyes.’ Nurse Hanley snorted. ‘I suppose you’ve been out dancing and gallivanting with the other girls until all hours? It won’t do, you know,’ she went on, not waiting for an answer. ‘You must exercise some self-control in future and put a stop to all these late nights. You are responsible for looking after these men, and they deserve your full attention.’

  ‘Yes, Staff.’ There was no point in arguing with her. Nurse Hanley always knew best. She was as bad as any ward sister for that.

  Besides, she wasn’t completely wrong. Anna was tired. It had been nearly three in the morning before she’d crawled back into bed that morning in the nurses’ home, and barely three hours later Miss Williams the Home Sister had been knocking on their doors to rouse them.

  But there was certainly no dancing or gallivanting involved, whatever Nurse Hanley seemed to think. Anna wondered what the senior nurse would make of it if she knew where Anna had been the previous night. And almost every night before that.

  She wouldn’t understand, Anna thought. Nursing was Veronica Hanley’s whole life. At thirty-five years old, she had no husband, no sweetheart, and no family either from what Anna could tell. She had a few friends among the ward sisters and senior nurses, but most of her life was dedicated to her job.

  She wouldn’t be able to comprehend that Anna had another life, one outside the hospital walls that was just as important to her.

  When the dressings round was finished, Anna joined Grace Duffield in the sluice. She was standing at the big stone sink, disconsolately scrubbing bedpans. She was tall and gawky, with a country girl’s flushed pink cheeks and warm hazel eyes. Wisps of light brown hair escaped from beneath her lopsided cap.

  ‘Why on earth are you doing that?’ Anna asked her. ‘Surely one of the VADs should be on bedpans?’

  ‘I know, but she asked me to help her. She seemed so overwhelmed, poor thing.’

  Anna thought about where she had last seen the little VAD, puffing away on a cigarette in the kitchen. She hadn’t looked particularly overwhelmed.

  ‘They’re here to help us, not the other way round,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ Grace said. ‘Besides,’ she added cheerfully, ‘I can’t get into any trouble in here!’

  ‘I saw Sister taking you to task again earlier on. What was she ranting about this time?’

  Grace’s rosy cheeks darkened. ‘I dropped a thermometer,’ she mumbled. ‘And then, when I was rushing to pick it up before Sister noticed, I accidentally stepped on it.’

  ‘Poor Duffield!’ Anna couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘I know. I’m so clumsy.’ Grace stared mournfully down at her large feet, encased in stout black lace-up shoes. ‘If ever anyone was misnamed, eh?’

  Anna looked at her friend’s open, smiling face. Grace was the butt of everyone’s jokes, but she always took it in good part. Anna sometimes wished she wouldn’t be so quick to make fun of herself.

  ‘It’s only because you get nervous,’ she said. ‘You’re a good nurse really.’

  ‘That’s not what Sister wrote in the ward book yesterday. Now, what was it she said?’ Grace paused for a moment, remembering. ‘“Duffield has a tendency to be like a bull in a china shop.”’

  ‘Corporal Bennett reckons you have a heart of gold.’

  Grace’s face brightened. ‘Does he? That’s nice of him.’ She turned on the tap to rinse a bedpan. Water gushed everywhere, and Anna had to jump back to avoid a soaking.

  ‘Did you hear the news?’ Grace carried on, apparently unconcerned by the puddle around her feet.

  ‘What news?’ Anna picked up a mop and started cleaning up.

  ‘Sylvia Saunders is engaged to Roger Wallace.’

/>   ‘No!’ Anna instantly stopped mopping. ‘That was quick. They’ve only been courting a few months.’

  ‘I know. Saunders reckons they’re head over heels in love. They’re planning a summer wedding, apparently.’

  ‘Good for her.’ Without thinking, Anna twisted the engagement ring on her own left hand. She hadn’t realised she was even doing it until she saw Grace’s sympathetic smile.

  ‘It’ll be your turn soon,’ she said. ‘When Edward comes home.’

  If he comes home.

  Anna pushed the thought determinedly from her mind. She did her best to stay positive and tell herself that everything would be all right. But they had been engaged for nearly four years now. And the longer the wretched war dragged on, and the more injured men arrived every day, the harder it was for her to believe her dream would come true.

  But she couldn’t allow herself to give up hope, for Edward’s sake.

  ‘I know.’ She smiled, then changed the subject. ‘We’ll have to celebrate Saunders’ good news.’

  ‘I think everyone’s meeting in the nurses’ home tonight.’ Grace glanced around the empty sluice, then lowered her voice. ‘There’s talk of Hilda Wharton smuggling in a bottle of sherry, if she can get hold of one.’

  ‘That sounds like fun.’ Anna went back to her mopping. ‘It’s a pity I won’t be able to stay long.’

  Grace looked over her shoulder at her. ‘Surely your mother wouldn’t mind if you missed one night?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘She relies on me to help her. She can’t manage without me.’ She looked at Grace. ‘Will you cover for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to keep asking you. I know you could get into as much trouble as me if we’re caught—’

  ‘I’m hardly a stranger to Matron’s office, am I?’ Grace looked rueful. ‘Besides, that’s what friends are for. And I’m sure you’d do the same for me, if I ever found myself coming home after lights out!’

  She gave a self-deprecating smile as she said it. Nearly every nurse stayed out late at some time, and the other girls usually helped by leaving windows unlocked so they could sneak back in after the front doors were locked. But no young man had ever enticed Grace Duffield to flirt with the Home Sister’s wrath.