Nightingale Wedding Bells

by Donna Douglas

She was going to tell him about her broken engagement, but what was the point?

  ‘I was going to thank you – for checking on Private Gordon,’ she amended herself. ‘It means a great deal to Corporal Sallis to know he’s doing well.’

  ‘Ah.’ Dr Logan nodded.

  As he went to walk away, Grace called after him, ‘Enjoy the wedding.’

  But he didn’t respond.

  Miss Parker was as good as her word. At ten o’clock, she told Grace she could go off duty.

  ‘But I’ll need you back at two,’ she reminded her. ‘I’m sorry, Nurse Duffield. I know you had other plans.’ Her blue eyes were genuinely regretful.

  Before she went off duty, Grace checked on Albie Sallis. He was still fast asleep, snoring gently. Poor man, she thought. He had a lot of catching up to do.

  She hurried back to Walford House. It was hardly the perfect day to get married. Yesterday’s blue sky had turned a sludgy grey, with the kind of half-hearted damp drizzle that lowered everyone’s spirits. But Grace was sure Sylvia and Roger wouldn’t allow a spot of rain to spoil their big event.

  The wedding was at eleven, which should have given Grace enough time to get ready, if she hadn’t managed to lose one of her shoes and put a hole through her only pair of stockings while rushing to put them on. Then she accidentally sat on her best hat, squashing it flat.

  It took her ages to push it into shape again. She had her head down, still trying to tweak the artificial roses back into shape as she hurried down the gravel drive towards the hospital gates.

  ‘Duffield?’

  She looked up sharply. There, standing by the gates, was the forlorn figure of a young woman. She was shivering in the rain.

  ‘Beck?’

  It took Grace a moment to recognise her. Anna had always been slight, but now her coat almost swamped her fragile frame. Even under the careful powdering, Grace could see the pallor of her complexion and the purple shadows that circled her eyes.

  There was a suitcase at her feet. As soon as she saw it, Grace realised what had happened.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said.

  Grace took Anna to the café around the corner where she ordered tea for them both, and eggs on toast for Anna.

  ‘But I’m not hungry,’ Anna protested.

  ‘You have to eat something.’ Grace looked at her friend’s fleshless face, her skin drawn over sharp bones and shadowy hollows. Underneath the lipstick, her lips were chapped and bitten. It was obvious she hadn’t been looking after herself.

  Their tea arrived and Grace poured it. She added three spoons of sugar to Anna’s cup, then pushed it across the table towards her.

  Anna stared down at it, her brown eyes troubled. ‘I’m sorry, I’m being a nuisance,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to miss the wedding.’

  ‘The wedding doesn’t matter,’ Grace dismissed. She reached for Anna’s hand. ‘Now, tell me what happened.’

  At first Anna couldn’t speak. She sat with her head down, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

  Grace waited patiently, still holding on to her friend’s hand. The skin was dry and papery, like an old woman’s.

  Then, gradually, between sobs the story began to emerge.

  It was exactly as Grace had feared, ever since the day she’d read Edward’s notes. She had tried to tell herself it might be different with Anna, that he loved her and would never hurt her. But as her friend tearfully unfolded her story, it became clear that Edward Stanning was not capable of loving anyone.

  Grace could only imagine how frightening it must have been for Anna to live with someone like him. Constantly tiptoeing around his moods, never quite sure what was going on behind that smiling face. He wielded his cruelty like a knife – not stabbing, but inflicting a thousand tiny wounds that seemed like nothing on their own, but that gradually ate away at her confidence, her self-esteem.

  ‘He was so clever,’ she said, sniffing back her tears. ‘He always made me believe he was doing things out of love, because he cared about me and wanted to protect me. I couldn’t argue with him. And if I tried, he’d twist my words around and make it seem as if I was the one being unreasonable.’

  Grace remembered the night Edward had confronted her on the ward. The way he had begged and pleaded with her, convinced her not to deny him his chance of happiness.

  And she had believed him, even though she had read his notes and knew exactly how manipulative he could be.

  Anna was right – he was dangerously clever.

  ‘I wish you’d come to us,’ she said.

  Anna shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. Edward made me feel as if I didn’t have a friend in the world.’

  ‘You know that’s not true.’

  ‘I do now.’ Anna looked around her. ‘The last time we sat in this café was the day I left the Nightingale. We had tea and cakes. Do you remember?’

  ‘Of course.’ Grace silently cursed herself. ‘I’m so sorry, I should’ve thought – this is probably the last place you’d want to come.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Anna said. ‘It’s over now.’

  Grace looked at her friend’s troubled face. She hoped she was right.

  The waitress brought the eggs on toast, and Grace encouraged Anna to eat. At first she could only pick at it, but after a few minutes her appetite resurfaced and she began shovelling food into her mouth as if she had been ravenous for weeks.

  Grace watched her, satisfied. A quick look at the clock told her that the wedding had ended a long time ago, but she didn’t mind at all.

  ‘So what will you do now?’ she asked.

  Anna paused, her expression darkening. ‘I don’t know.’

  She let her fork fall back to her plate. Anna could see her mood sinking and knew she had to step in.

  ‘You could come back to the Nightingale,’ she said.

  Anna blinked at her. ‘What? I couldn’t!’

  ‘Why not? I bet you if you went to see Matron she would give you a job on the spot. We’re desperate for trained nurses, especially with all the men coming in from France.’ The latest German offensive, combined with an influenza epidemic at the Front, meant more convoys were arriving every day.

  ‘Yes, but – I couldn’t.’ Anna looked around her desperately. ‘What if I’ve forgotten everything?’

  ‘In three months?’ Grace laughed.

  Anna looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. ‘I’d feel too ashamed.’

  ‘Ashamed? Why?’

  ‘It would be like admitting I’d failed, wouldn’t it? What would people say?’

  ‘If they’re your friends they won’t say anything. And if they’re not your friends …’ Grace shrugged. ‘Why would you even care what they say?’

  That brought a smile to Anna’s face.

  ‘Dear Duffield,’ she said. ‘You always know the right thing to say.’

  Grace blushed. ‘I don’t know about that!’

  ‘You do. I’m glad you were the one I met at the gates. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d run into Moore, or Trott!’

  Grace looked at her, intrigued. ‘Why did you come here?’ she asked. ‘Of all the places in London, why did you decide to come back to the Nightingale?’

  Anna looked down at her plate. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose it was the last place I felt happy and safe.’

  Grace smiled. ‘Well, then. That must tell you something, mustn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose it does,’ Anna agreed.

  By the time they had finished talking, it was nearly two o’clock, and Grace was due back on duty.

  Rain was falling steadily as they emerged from the café.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I found a boarding house last night.’ Anna grimaced. ‘It’s not very nice, but it’s cheap. The landlady won’t let me back in until four, though.’

  ‘What will you do until then?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ll just walk the streets,
I suppose.’

  Grace looked at her, shivering inside her coat, and made up her mind.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Anna asked, as she followed Grace back through the hospital gates and up the wide sweep of gravelled drive.

  ‘To the nurses’ home. You can use our room to rest and keep dry. It’s the Home Sister’s day off, so you’ll be quite safe,’ she added.

  Anna did not protest as Grace helped her off with her damp coat and laid it out to dry. She pulled a spare nightgown out of her drawer for her to put on, and carefully folded up her clothes.

  ‘Try to rest,’ she said. But Anna’s eyes were already closed as her head touched the pillow.

  ‘I’m sorry you missed the wedding,’ she mumbled, half asleep.

  Grace looked at the clock. They would be in the middle of the wedding breakfast by now. She could imagine Dr Logan standing up to make his speech, Dulcie beside him, looking up at him adoringly …

  ‘It’s probably for the best,’ she said.

  She left Anna sleeping and headed back to the main hospital building.

  Now she had started thinking about the wedding, she couldn’t seem to stop. She kept torturing herself with images of Dulcie and Dr Logan together. She could imagine her charming him, looking up at him through her lashes in that way she had. She had once told Grace that whenever she spoke to a man she liked, she always pouted her lips slightly.

  ‘It puts them in mind of a kiss,’ she had said.

  Grace could imagine her pouting up at Dr Logan now, and him accepting her unspoken invitation, his head lowering to meet hers …

  And then she walked on to the ward, saw the curtains drawn around the bed at the far end, and all thoughts of the wedding, Dulcie and Dr Logan went right out of her mind.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Dulcie was having a wonderful time. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

  She and Robert Logan made the perfect couple, she decided. She could see the envious looks the other girls were giving her as she entered the wedding reception on his arm. Miriam Trott looked as if she might expire with jealousy.

  Even the bride looked slightly put out at the amount of attention Dulcie was getting, she noted with sly satisfaction.

  The only one who didn’t seem to be looking at her was her own partner.

  Robert had been a dutiful escort, opening doors and pulling out chairs for her, complimenting her dress and making polite conversation when they sat down for the wedding breakfast. But dutiful was the word; Dulcie sensed his heart wasn’t really in it.

  Even now, as she was doing her utmost to flirt with him, his gaze was straying around the room, pulled towards the doors.

  Finally, she could stand it no longer.

  ‘Are you looking for someone?’ She smiled when she said it, but her voice was laced with irritation.

  She expected him to apologise, but he said, ‘I thought Grace – Nurse Duffield – might be here.’

  ‘She’s on duty,’ Dulcie replied, tight-lipped.

  ‘Yes, but she said she might come to the ceremony, at least.’

  She whipped her head round to look at him. ‘You’ve seen her?’

  ‘This morning, on the ward.’ Once again his gaze strayed to the doors. ‘I hope nothing’s happened to her …’

  Dulcie tapped him playfully on the arm. ‘Really, Robert, it’s hardly gallant of you to be thinking about another woman when you’re supposed to be with me!’ she reminded him.

  ‘Oh!’ Dr Logan turned red. ‘Yes, of course. I do apologise.’ He looked down at her empty glass. ‘May I offer you another drink?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She watched him making his way across the floor. He was so handsome, she thought. Her perfect man. She tried to think about them on their own wedding day, standing at the altar, making their vows to each other …

  She closed her eyes to picture it, then opened them again.

  Nothing.

  She closed her eyes again, and concentrated hard. She could see herself in her dress, an elegant silk creation, her hair threaded with pearls, a bouquet of fragrant lily of the valley, her face delicately veiled.

  She saw herself walking up the aisle on her father’s arm. She could see Robert in the distance, standing with his back to her, tall, dark and handsome in his smart suit. As she approached, he turned to look at her, and Dulcie felt her heart leap with—

  Nothing.

  She could see him there, watching her, his face suffused with love, eyes misty behind his spectacles. But her heart lay like a stone in her chest.

  She screwed her eyes shut and tried to think about their lives after marriage. They were living in a big house, an Edwardian villa in Hampstead. They had a servant – no, two servants, a maid and a housekeeper. Dulcie spent her days on charity committees, or shopping in the West End. Sometimes she would deign to meet one of her old friends for tea at Fortnum & Mason, just so she could show off. And then, in the evening, Robert would come home, and she would greet him, and—

  ‘Dulcie?’

  She opened her eyes, startled to see Robert Logan standing over her, a glass in each hand.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Did I wake you up?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’ Dulcie felt the heat rising in her face. ‘I was just …’

  She stopped. What was she doing? It hardly felt like daydreaming. Daydreaming usually lifted her up, filled her with happiness and excitement. But this time it felt more as if she was watching someone else’s life than her own.

  You can’t help who you fall in love with.

  She snatched the drink out of Robert’s hand, annoyed with herself. This would not do, she decided. She had to try harder.

  As he went to sit down beside her, he knocked her bag off her lap. It fell to the floor, spilling its contents.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon. Here, let me help you …’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Allow me.’

  They both stooped to pick up her belongings at the same time. Dulcie moved quickly, but not quickly enough.

  ‘What’s this?’ Robert held up the medal. It glinted silver in the low lights.

  ‘It’s mine.’ Dulcie took it from him. ‘It was a gift from – someone.’

  ‘It’s a Military Medal, isn’t it? That’s quite something to give away.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He must have meant a great deal to you for you to carry it with you.’

  Dulcie looked down at the medal, heavy in her palm.

  For bravery in the field.

  The inscription seemed to mock her.

  Perhaps that was why Sam had given it to her, she thought. Because he knew she was a coward.

  Or perhaps he had meant it as a challenge? If so, she had failed it.

  Her mind went back to the day Sam left, when she had stayed away rather than say goodbye. She had bitterly regretted it since, but deep down she knew that if she had her time all over again she would probably do the same thing.

  She was not brave enough to face him, in case she was forced to admit how much she truly cared.

  You can’t help who you fall in love with.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, realisation dawning.

  ‘Yes, I think he was.’

  She stuffed the medal back into her bag and closed the clasp with a snap. This would not do, she chided herself. Every time she thought about Sam she could feel all her carefully made plans starting to unravel, and she could not allow that to happen.

  The band struck up, and she grabbed Robert’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

  ‘Must I?’ Robert held back. ‘I’m really not much of a dancer.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Come on!’ Dulcie dragged him determinedly to his feet.

  Robert was right, he wasn’t a very good dancer. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was holding her close, breathing in her perfume. What mattered was that he was falling in love with
her, and she with him …

  ‘Sorry, was that your foot?’ Robert’s apology broke into her thoughts.

  Dulcie sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  She pressed herself closer to him, gazing up into his face. His chin was lifted away from her, his eyes staring off into the middle distance.

  This was all wrong, she thought. She had assumed that by now she would be melting into his arms, that once she was close to him it would all come naturally.

  Her mind went back to another moment. Two hands brushing by accident, and the jolt of electricity that had gone through her then. The melting sensation she’d felt when she looked into those green eyes, caught a reluctant smile …

  You can’t help who you fall in love with.

  Then she thought about the medal she carried everywhere, that she kept under her pillow at night.

  For bravery in the field.

  She stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor. ‘This is all wrong,’ she said.

  Robert looked down at her, startled. ‘I’m sorry. I did warn you I had two left feet …’

  ‘Not your dancing. This. Us.’

  ‘I don’t understand?’

  ‘We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re not supposed to be together.’ She looked at him. ‘You’re supposed to be with Grace.’

  Robert’s expression darkened. ‘Surely her fiancé would have something to say about that?’ he muttered.

  ‘There is no fiancé. Not anymore. She’s broken it off with him.’

  ‘She – broke it off?’ Robert said slowly.

  ‘She should never have got engaged in the first place. She only did it to please her family. Thank God she came to her senses in the end!’ Dulcie looked up at Robert’s bewildered expression. He was struggling to take it all in, she could tell. ‘Although she might never have found the courage to end it if it hadn’t been for you,’ she said.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘She likes you, you dolt!’ Dulcie sighed. For a doctor he could really be rather dim, she thought.

  The music stopped and the couples began to leave the floor. But Robert stood rooted to the spot.

  He stared at Dulcie, his eyes owlish behind his spectacles. Then he shook his head. ‘That can’t be true. She’s never given me any indication …’