He shook his head. ‘No such luck. They’re sending me to a convalescent home, to learn to make baskets with the other old codgers.’
‘You’re being sent for extended rehabilitation,’ Miriam corrected him primly.
‘Same difference.’ Sam did not look thrilled at the prospect.
‘When are you leaving?’ Dulcie asked.
‘Not for another month. End of April, if they can find me a place.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Why? Will you miss me?’
He made it sound like a joke, but Dulcie could feel the weight of meaning behind it.
‘Promise me you’ll come and said goodbye?’ he said.
‘Of course. I’ll probably put out the flags, too!’ She smiled, but Sam’s face was serious.
‘I promise,’ she said.
CHAPTER FORTY
Private Gordon was making real progress. His stammer had improved, he looked Grace in the eye when she spoke, and most significant of all, he had taken his first steps.
This morning he had managed to totter all the way out to the terrace, leaning heavily on his friend Albie Sallis’ arm. He and Albie sat side by side on a bench in the cool March morning, Gordon listening as Albie chattered nineteen to the dozen, holding forth about what lay beyond the hospital railings.
‘There’s no place like the East End, mate, believe me,’ he was saying. ‘Once you’re properly on your feet, I’m going to take you down Brick Lane for pie and mash. Maybe some jellied eels too, if you fancy ’em. Now don’t pull a face like that, not till you’ve tried ’em.’ He looked up at Grace. ‘You ever had jellied eels, Nurse?’
‘I can’t say I have, Corporal Sallis.’ Grace smiled back as she tucked in a rug around a patient in a wheelchair.
‘Then you’ll have to come with us. We’ll have a proper beano. What do you say, mate?’ He grinned at Gordon, who smiled vacantly back at him.
‘I think jellied eels sound perfectly foul,’ Dulcie announced from the other end of the terrace, where she was settling another patient.
‘That’s ’cos you’re too lah-di-dah,’ Albie called back. ‘I bet you wouldn’t say no to a plate of oysters at a fancy restaurant, would you?’
‘Of course not. But that’s different.’
‘I don’t see how. They both come out of the sea, don’t they?’
‘Well, I won’t be coming on your outing if jellied eels are on the menu,’ Dulcie announced.
‘I don’t recall you being invited.’
Grace looked from one to the other of them, and an idea occurred to her.
‘Can you manage by yourself for a moment?’ she asked Dulcie.
She looked up, a rug in her hands. ‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘I just have to talk to someone, that’s all.’
‘Can’t it wait?’ Dulcie said, but Grace was already heading for the French doors.
‘Don’t be long,’ she heard Dulcie calling across the terrace. ‘I don’t see why I should have to do everything …’
Dulcie had been in a foul mood in the past few days. Grace thought it must have something to do with the fact that Dr Logan still hadn’t noticed her, in spite of her best efforts.
Sometimes Grace cringed at Dulcie’s determination to flirt with him. She seemed so desperate and heavy-handed. But then again, Grace had never flirted with anyone in her life, so she was hardly qualified to comment. For all she knew, it might be the right way to go about attracting a man’s attention.
She thought about Noah Wells. Another letter had come for her the previous day, written in his careful hand.
Grace supposed they must be love letters of a sort, even though they were mainly about slurry spreading, and how he had finished sowing the sugar beet. She did her best to read some poetry and meaning between the lines, but in the end she had to admit that Noah Wells was too straightforward for all that nonsense.
And so was she, she reminded herself. There had been a time when she had measured her year by muck spreading and sowing, lambing and calving. It was the life she had been born to, and the life she enjoyed.
She would have preferred to speak to Dr Carlyle about her idea, but she was away on a walking holiday in Scotland with her fiancé Dr French. He was on leave from his posting in France.
Instead, she knocked on Dr Logan’s door.
‘Come.’
As Grace fumbled with the doorknob, she could imagine him sighing with impatience inside the room.
Robert Logan was sitting behind his wooden desk, a pile of papers in front of him. The reports for the Medical Board, Grace guessed.
He looked up at her. ‘What is it, Nurse? Is it one of the patients?’
‘No, Sir. I just wanted to speak to you about something.’ She glanced down at the reports. ‘But I can come back when you’re not so busy …’
‘No, stay. Please.’ He sat back in his seat, took off his glasses and rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. ‘I would be pleased of the distraction, actually.’ He replaced his spectacles and looked up at her. ‘What was it you wanted?’
Grace looked around her at the book-lined walls, suddenly very nervous. She kept her hands clasped together, her elbows tucked in at her sides in case she knocked something over.
‘I’ve been talking to Albie – Corporal Sallis.’
‘Talking to him?’ Dr Logan raised his eyebrows. ‘I’d be very surprised if you got a word in edgeways, Nurse.’
Grace smiled. ‘Very well, I was listening to him talking about London, and how much he loved it. And I wondered – might it be possible to organise an outing for some of the men?’
Grace risked a glance up at him. Dr Logan’s dark eyes were fixed on her so intently behind his spectacles that she almost lost her nerve.
‘An outing?’ he said.
‘We wouldn’t have to go far.’ Grace was gabbling now, the words tumbling over themselves. ‘Just around the park, perhaps, or to a café? We might even go to a concert? People are always sending us free tickets.’
Dr Logan went on staring at her, and Grace felt her confidence start to crumble.
‘On second thoughts, it might not be a very good idea,’ she mumbled. ‘It would probably be too much for the men. They need peace and quiet, don’t they? The noise, the busy streets, the people … I daresay it would set them back in their treatment.’
‘I think it’s a capital idea,’ Dr Logan said.
Grace stared at him. ‘You do?’
He nodded. ‘It would give them a taste of normality. Of course, we’d have to be careful which patients we took. They would have to be the more robust of the men, the ones who were responding best to treatment.’ He looked up and gave her one of his rare smiles. ‘Let me think about it, Nurse. But we will definitely organise something.’
Grace smiled back in disbelief. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘I would accompany the men, of course. But I assume you would be willing to assist me?’
‘Of course, Doctor.’ Then another thought struck her. ‘And perhaps Nurse Moore could come, too?’
He frowned. ‘Nurse Moore?’
‘It was her idea.’
‘Was it?’ He looked surprised. ‘But I thought you said you thought of it? After talking to Corporal Sallis?’ he reminded her.
Heat rose in Grace’s face. She had never been very good at lying.
‘Nurse Moore was there, too. And she has had experience with taking men on outings,’ Grace added.
Dr Logan looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands.’ He looked up at her. ‘Leave it with me, Nurse. I will make the necessary arrangements.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’
As Grace turned to go, Dr Logan said, ‘Nurse Duffield?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘It was an excellent idea. Even if you didn’t think of it.’
It might have been the lamplight reflecting off his spectacles, but Grace could have sworn there was a twinkle in his blue eyes.
‘Thank you, Sir.
I’ll be sure to let Nurse Moore know.’
Grace was so pleased and flustered, she barely noticed the skeleton standing sentry by the door until she had collided with it.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Dear Mother.
Thank you for your letter. I’m sorry I haven’t replied sooner but working in the bakery hardly leaves me any time, as I’m sure you well remember! But today is half-day closing so at last I can sit down and write a few lines.
I’m very glad to hear you have found a place to settle at last. Bavaria sounds beautiful – very different from Bethnal Green, but I know you will both be very happy there. And what good news that Papa is setting up another bakery in the village. I’m sure it won’t be long before the customers are queuing up outside the door again, just as they used to here.
We’re all doing well over here, too. As I mentioned in my last letter, I have given up nursing and now I am helping Edward at the bakery. Since Mrs Church left, her nephew Charlie has also gone (and I can’t say I’m sorry about that!) so now there are just the two of us.
I know you were worried about me leaving the Nightingale, and I do miss my friends sometimes, but as Edward says, this is what Papa would have wanted. And I am very happy for us to be working together again at last. Sometimes it almost feels like the old days, when we were all together here …
Anna paused, her pen stilling on the paper, and took a moment to gather herself. Then she continued:
Working in the bakery has done wonders for Edward’s spirits. He has settled back into life in London, and has even made some new friends …
Once again, her hand fell still and she had to force herself to continue.
Of course, he is still quite frail in some ways, but I truly believe that with love and patience, he will soon be quite back to his old self.
Love and patience. How often had she repeated those words to herself in the three months they had been married?
I must say, I am surprised that Liesel felt the need to write to you and complain that I never see her. Unfortunately, it just so happens that the last couple of times she has tried to arrange to visit, it has not been convenient for us. But if I went to visit her in Essex I would hardly expect her to abandon her work to see me, so why is she so upset? We are both busy, and it’s nonsense for her to say I am avoiding her. I’m only sorry she had to trouble you with her silliness. Please take no notice – you know Liesel is only happy when she’s making a fuss about something!
For a moment she heard Edward’s voice in her ear. ‘Why does she have to come? I prefer it when it’s just the two of us, don’t you?’ And then: ‘Sometimes I think you care more about her feelings than you do about mine.’
Anyway, I must end this letter as I want to catch the last post. Please give Papa my love and tell him that I wish he could visit the bakery in Bethnal Green again, and see that we are carrying on his good work. I miss you both very much, and long for the day we can all be together again.
Dashing away a tear, Anna signed the letter and sealed it in an envelope quickly, before she could change her mind.
It had taken her a long time to write the letter. She had started it many times, but it hurt her too much to lie to her parents. In the end she had managed to craft something that wasn’t quite a lie, but wasn’t quite the truth, either.
Edward appeared in the doorway to the bakery kitchen as Anna was slipping on her coat in the hall.
‘Where are you sneaking off to?’ There was a smile on his face, but his eyes told a different story.
‘I’m going to post a letter.’
‘Who to?’
‘My parents.’ Their eyes met for a moment. Then, without a word, Anna handed over the envelope.
Edward flicked a quick glance over the address and handed it to her, his smile back in place.
‘I hope you gave them my love?’ he said.
‘Of course.’
She stiffened automatically as he came towards her, only to relax again as his arms went around her.
‘Don’t be too long,’ he whispered. ‘I love you.’
‘I – love you too.’
He kissed her tenderly, and Anna tried to blank out the memory of the previous night, when he had come home from the pub in the early hours and drunkenly forced himself on her.
She had learned not to fight back anymore. Instead she submitted to him, lying as still as she could and trying not to breathe in the sickening stench of beer and cigarettes.
‘Christ, it’s like making love to a block of ice. You could at least try to look as if you’re enjoying it!’ he’d mocked afterwards.
Anna wondered if he even remembered it now. He seldom seemed to recall what he said or did when he was drunk.
Love and patience, she reminded herself. The drinking, the uncontrollable rages, the lack of trust – they were all down to his terrible war experiences. If she just gave him enough time and enough love, one day she would cure him and then she would have her Edward back.
It was a blustery April day, but Anna could see the beginnings of spring. The trees in Victoria Park were cautiously unfurling their tender green leaves, and there was a slight warmth in the air that hadn’t been there for months.
Perhaps it was a sign that things were changing, getting better, she thought.
Then she turned the corner and saw Ida Church hurrying towards her.
Anna turned away sharply to stare into the window of the draper’s shop while she approached. But as the older woman drew level, she heard her say, ‘Miss Anna?’
Anna forced herself to turn and look at her. ‘Mrs Church. I didn’t see you.’
‘Didn’t you? I saw you.’ Ida Church pursed her lips. She looked Anna up and down. ‘You’re looking – well,’ she said at last.
It was a lie. Anna had caught sight of her reflection in the draper’s window on her way over and knew exactly what she looked like.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Oh, you know – fair to middling. I’ve been meaning to call in and see you, but I didn’t want to run into him.’
Anna tensed. ‘You mean my husband?’
‘How are your mother and father?’ Mrs Church changed the subject abruptly. ‘Have you heard from them lately?’
‘They’re very well. Actually, I was just on my way to post a letter to them …’
‘And your sister? How is she?’
‘She’s fine.’
Mrs Church paused for a moment, then said, ‘Tell you what, why don’t we have a cuppa together at Wheeler’s? Then we can have a proper catch-up.’
‘I don’t have time.’ Anna glanced furtively up and down the street. ‘I promised I’d get straight back.’
‘You can spare five minutes, surely?’
‘No, really – I have to get home.’
Mrs Church’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s really got you under his thumb, hasn’t he?’
‘No!’ Anna stared at her, shocked. ‘No, not at all. Now if you’ll excuse me?’
She started to walk away, but Ida Church’s voice followed her down the street.
‘Is he still taking money out of the till?’
Anna stopped in her tracks for a moment, then hurried on.
‘It’s a terrible shame,’ Mrs Church called after her. ‘After everything your father did, building up that business …’
Anna kept her head down, but she could still feel people turning to look at her, their gazes following her down the street.
‘I’m only looking out for you,’ Mrs Church shouted. ‘I promised your mother I would!’
Anna ran the rest of the way home.
Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. Anna closed the back door and leaned against it, fighting to get her breath back.
‘Is that you?’ Edward called from the shop.
‘Yes.’
‘Did you catch the post?’
It took a moment for her to remember what he was talking about. She looked at the letter in her hand. She had been so desp
erate to get away from Mrs Church that she had forgotten all about it.
‘Yes,’ she said, slipping it into her pocket.
She heard the ring of the till, followed by the thunk of the cash drawer closing.
Is he still taking money out of the till?
Anna flinched as Edward appeared, smiling.
‘What’s up with you?’ he said. ‘Have you been running?’
Anna forced the corners of her mouth upwards. ‘I wanted to get back to you.’
Edward grinned. ‘That’s my girl. Come here and give your old man a big kiss.’
As she moved into his arms, Anna tried not to notice the outline of a wad of banknotes in his pocket.
Why ask him, when there was bound to be an innocent explanation for it? she thought. And if there wasn’t, she was too afraid to want to know.
Patience and love.
She would make him better, and everything would be all right.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Sam slumped in the chair, watching as the VAD folded his belongings and packed them carefully into a small suitcase. She kept up a cheerful stream of chatter as she worked.
‘I’m sure you’ll love it at Hambleton Hall. My friend works there as a VAD and she says it’s a wonderful place.’ She was young, fresh-faced and enthusiastic, with a chirping little voice that reminded him of a budgerigar. ‘Apparently they have all sorts of pastimes and activities there. They have several tennis courts, a swimming pool and a cricket pitch. My friend says they even have their own amateur dramatics society. Are you interested in acting at all, Sergeant Trevelyan?’
‘I think I’ve had enough drama for one lifetime, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ The VAD looked crestfallen. ‘I suppose if you put it like that … But perhaps you could take up a sport, or learn a musical instrument?’
And then she was off again, chirruping away like a bright little bird.
Sam turned his gaze reluctantly to the clock hanging above the double doors. He had managed to restrain himself for several minutes, as if by not looking at it he could somehow stop the time from ticking by.
Nightingale Wedding Bells Page 25