Nightingale Wedding Bells

by Donna Douglas

  Just to make matters worse, Grace’s sisters-in-law insisted on joining them. Dulcie had taken an instant dislike to Jessie and Beth when she met them. Grace had always told her they were the prettiest girls in the village, but Dulcie couldn’t understand why she was so in awe of them. Beth was passable, in a blowsy, overblown kind of way, but to Dulcie’s mind Jessie looked like a wiry little ferret.

  They were certainly not endearing themselves now but kept trying to push Dulcie and Grace out of the way so they could admire themselves in the tiny dressing-table mirror.

  ‘Isn’t there somewhere else you two can get ready?’ Dulcie asked Jessie pointedly when she thrust her face close to the glass yet again.

  ‘Grace wants us here, don’t you, Gracie?’ Beth said.

  ‘Well …’

  ‘We’re family,’ Jessie put in.

  Dulcie caught Grace’s eye in the mirror. She shrugged helplessly.

  Dulcie did her best to ignore them as she pulled the rags out of Grace’s hair and twisted the curls around her fingers.

  ‘Thank you for helping me,’ Grace said. ‘I’m sure I’d be all fingers and thumbs otherwise.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Jessie chimed in. ‘She’s ever so clumsy.’

  Dulcie caught Grace’s eye in the mirror. ‘I’m glad to help you,’ she said. ‘And your hair curls really well.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Beth leaned her fat face in to inspect it. ‘Looks a bit limp to me.’

  ‘Grace’s hair never looks right, no matter what she does to it,’ Jessie agreed.

  ‘Like rat’s tails,’ Beth said. ‘But as Ma always says –’

  ‘– you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear!’ they chorused in delight.

  Dulcie felt the anger rising inside her. She was just about to open her mouth and stick up for her friend when Grace beat her to it.

  ‘If you can’t think of anything nice to say, you can go away.’

  It was the mildest of rebukes, but her sisters-in-law could not have looked more shocked if Grace had turned around and struck them.

  Jessie found her voice first. ‘You can’t tell us what to do in our home!’ she protested.

  ‘Actually, it’s more my home than it is yours,’ Grace pointed out. ‘You two only live here because you’re married to my brothers.’

  Dulcie cheered silently as Jessie and Beth stared at her, open-mouthed.

  ‘You can’t talk to us like that,’ Beth said.

  ‘Can’t I?’ Grace turned her head slightly to look at her. ‘I’d choose a different dress if I were you. That one might have suited you five years ago when you were May Queen but now it just makes you look fat.’

  The girls gaped at each other. Then Jessie burst out laughing.

  ‘She’s right, you do look like a heifer!’ she screeched. ‘You tell her, Gracie!’

  Grace turned on her calmly. ‘And I think you should stop laughing,’ she said. ‘No one wants to see all those missing teeth.’

  Dulcie ducked her head so they would not see her giggling to herself. She had never heard Grace stand up to anyone before. Now she seemed to be growing in confidence before Dulcie’s eyes.

  ‘Well, I like that!’ Jessie’s little face screwed up in fury. ‘If that’s the way you feel then – we won’t come to your wedding!’

  ‘That suits me perfectly,’ Grace said.

  They stomped off, slamming the door behind them. Grace raised her gaze to meet Dulcie’s in the mirror.

  ‘They will come,’ she said. ‘They would never miss a party. Let alone a chance to criticise.’

  ‘All the same, I’m glad you stood up to them.’

  ‘You don’t think I was too harsh?’

  ‘Not at all. They deserved it.’

  Grace smiled reluctantly. ‘I must say, it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. But I’ve never had the courage before.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Grace shrugged. ‘I thought everyone was better than me.’ She lifted her chin and met her reflection with a smile. ‘But that’s not true, is it? I’m just as good as everyone else.’

  Dulcie looked at her friend’s reflection, and a lump rose in her throat. Dear Grace, she was simply the purest and biggest-hearted person Dulcie had ever met. There was not a shred of malice in her.

  If anyone deserved to be happy and loved, she did.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re not just as good as everyone else. You’re far, far better than that. Now come on, let’s get you into your dress.

  It took a long time to get Grace dressed. She was trembling so much Dulcie could scarcely do up the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. But once it was finally fastened, they stood back to admire her reflection.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Dulcie said. She had only ever seen anything like this delicate creation of fine lace and pearls in the pages of Vogue. ‘It must have cost a fortune,’ she said without thinking.

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Grace cried in dismay. ‘What if I tear it or spill something down it? You know what I’m like.’ She gazed back at her reflection, her eyes round with wonder. ‘I told Robert I would have been happy to make do with my mother’s old wedding dress, but he insisted I should have one of her own.’

  ‘And quite right, too,’ Dulcie said. ‘You deserve it.’

  She waited for the jealous pangs to kick in. Here was Grace, living Dulcie’s dream, getting married in her perfect dress and marrying her perfect man. Once upon a time she would have been so enraged with bitterness and spite she would not have been able to look at her.

  But now she realised that wasn’t what she wanted at all. All the stylish dresses and smart addresses in the world simply didn’t matter.

  Now she had Sam, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything more.

  Grace turned to her, eyes misty with tears. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’ve made me look beautiful.’

  Dulcie smiled at her friend, genuinely happy for her. ‘You are beautiful,’ she said. ‘Come on, now. Let’s go and get you married.’

  The morning after the wedding, Anna, Dulcie, Miriam and Mary caught the train back to London together. The glorious wintry sunshine that had shone down on Grace’s big day had given way to a dreary dark sky and an icy wind that lashed the train windows with sleet.

  ‘I’m so glad it wasn’t like this yesterday,’ Mary said, pressing her nose against the glass. ‘It would have spoiled Duffield’s day.’

  ‘I don’t think anything could have spoiled her day,’ Anna said. Grace’s smile as she walked down the aisle could have lit up the dullest weather.

  ‘You’re right.’ Mary sighed. ‘Wasn’t it a beautiful wedding? That little chapel was exquisite, didn’t you think?’

  ‘It was a bit small,’ Miriam said.

  ‘And such a good idea to have those garlands of evergreen everywhere instead of flowers,’ Mary went on, ignoring her.

  ‘I’d never get married in the middle of winter,’ Miriam declared. ‘It’s far too dreary.’

  Anna caught Dulcie’s eye across the train carriage and they both smiled.

  ‘Come off it, Trott. You’d get married in the middle of a snowstorm if it meant you ended up with a ring on your finger!’ Dulcie said.

  ‘Duffield looked beautiful, didn’t she?’ Anna put in quickly, sensing an argument looming. It was a long way back to London and she didn’t particularly want to listen to their bickering.

  ‘Until she tripped over her train and went flying!’ Miriam snorted.

  ‘But did you see how Robert caught her in his arms?’ Dulcie said. ‘It was so romantic.’

  Miriam turned to Dulcie, her mouth pursing. ‘You know, you’re taking it very well, considering Duffield has married your man,’ she said.

  Dulcie blushed. ‘He wasn’t my man,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Really? It wasn’t so long ago that you were telling everyone you were going to marry him!’

  ‘Why does she need Robert Logan when she has a fiancé of her own?’ Anna said.<
br />
  ‘Exactly.’ Dulcie looked down at the engagement ring on her left hand, as if to reassure herself it was still there.

  Miriam looked at the ring. ‘Duffield’s was twice as big as yours,’ she commented unkindly.

  ‘At least I’ve got one,’ Dulcie snapped back.

  Anna stifled a sigh and let her gaze drift towards the water drops streaming down the window as the sniping commenced. In spite of her best efforts, it seemed as if Dulcie and Miriam were determined to argue all the way back to London.

  The flags were still flying proudly in Paddington station when they arrived. Two weeks after the Armistice had been declared, there wasn’t a building in London that didn’t have a Union Jack fluttering from its roof. Strings of bunting sagged, exhausted, between lamp posts, a reminder of the parties that had spilled out onto the streets the day the ceasefire was declared.

  There had been so many celebrations on that day. Maroons exploded from the roofs of police and fire stations, church bells pealed, hooters blasted out from factories. Thousands poured on to the streets, waving Union Jacks and French flags. Bands played, and people sang and danced, all day and all night.

  They had celebrated on the ward, too. The orderlies had brought in beer, and Miss Sutton had been in such a good mood that she had permitted the men to take a drink. Later, she had led a few rousing choruses of “Keep the Home Fires Burning” and “When the Boys Come Marching Home”. But the party had really got started when another of the orderlies arrived with his accordion. Some of the more able-bodied men had got out of bed to dance with the nurses. Anna did not think she would ever forget the sight of Nurse Hanley being whirled around the ward by a burly lance corporal.

  Now, two weeks on, the city was slowly beginning to recover – unlike Hanley, who still seemed to be in a state of shock after her ordeal.

  At the station in London they said goodbye to Dulcie, who was catching another train down to Surrey to see Sam Trevelyan.

  ‘Isn’t it funny to see her so giddy?’ Mary observed, as they watched her hurrying down the platform. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so head over heels for a man. Have you noticed how she blushes whenever she says his name?’

  Even Miriam had grudgingly to admit she had never known Dulcie so happy or in love.

  ‘But, of course, it could all change,’ she added sourly.

  ‘You know what Moore’s like. She’s never been able to keep a man.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll keep this one,’ Anna replied.

  Anna, Miriam and Mary travelled together on the Underground to Bethnal Green. There Anna said goodbye to them.

  ‘Aren’t you coming back to the Nightingale?’ Miriam wanted to know.

  ‘I’m not on duty till five. There’s somewhere I need to go first.’

  ‘That sounds very mysterious.’ Miriam’s sharp little nose twitched, as it always did at the first hint of gossip. ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘None of your business,’ Mary cut in swiftly. ‘Leave the girl alone, Trott.’

  ‘All right, keep your little secrets,’ Miriam huffed. ‘But you needn’t think I’m covering for you if you’re late back. I shall tell Sister you said to mind her own business.’

  Anna stood for a moment outside the station, watching the others go. When they were safely out of sight, she turned and headed towards Chambord Street.

  She didn’t know why she felt she had to see it again. It was like a wound she couldn’t stop picking at, despite the fresh surge of pain it brought her every time.

  As she turned the corner the sight of the bakery windows all boarded up gave her a painful jolt. The windows above the shop were blackened, gaping hollows, the brickwork charred.

  Anna fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief, feeling foolish. It had been nearly a month since the fire, and she had been coming at least once a week to see it ever since.

  And every time it made her cry.

  ‘Back again, love?’ Anna started at the sound of Mr Hudson’s voice. He had come out of the shop next door, wiping his hands on his stained apron.

  ‘Yes.’ Anna quickly stuffed her handkerchief back in her coat pocket, determined not to let him see her weep.

  Mr Hudson came to stand beside her, looking up at the roof. The last few remaining slate tiles clung precariously to the soot-blackened skeleton of the rafters. ‘I daresay it must be a shock for you, seeing it like this again.’ He shook his head. ‘And they say lightning doesn’t strike twice, eh?’ He paused, and Anna felt his sidelong look. ‘I don’t s’pose there’s any word on …’

  ‘No.’ Anna cut him off abruptly.

  ‘Well, you know what they say. No news is good news. I’m sure he’s safe and sound somewhere.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She meant it, too. In spite of everything he had done to her, she would never want Edward to suffer what she had gone through.

  Even now, just thinking about it made her heart drum again her ribs in fear. She could almost feel the burning heat in her throat, her eyes stinging, the terrible panic as she fought to breathe in the choking smoke …

  No, she wouldn’t have wished that on her worst enemy.

  ‘And to think young Tom Franklin went to all that trouble to rebuild it after the last time,’ Mr Hudson was saying. ‘A crying shame, I call it. What does your father say about it? I daresay he’s heartbroken, ain’t he?’

  ‘I haven’t told him.’

  ‘But surely you should?’

  ‘Why? It was Edward’s shop.’ Anna glanced at the sign over the door. She could only make out the letters ‘S’ and ‘G’ in the blistering paintwork.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You said yourself, Mr Hudson, my father would be heartbroken if he knew. And since he’s so settled in Germany now, I see no reason to upset him. I think he’s been through enough, don’t you?’

  But Mr Hudson wasn’t listening. He was looking past Anna’s shoulder, a broad grin on his face.

  ‘Well, I never! Look who it is. We were just talking about you, young man.’

  Anna froze, every muscle tensing like a hunted animal’s.

  Edward.

  She didn’t dare turn round. She couldn’t trust what she might do if she had to look into his face again, not after everything that had happened …

  And then she heard his voice, a voice she’d never thought she’d hear again.

  ‘Is that right? And what would you have to say about me?’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Anna turned around slowly until she was looking into the face of the young man standing behind her.

  Tom Franklin was thinner than she remembered him. He leaned heavily on a stick, his suit hanging off his gaunt frame. As he took off his cap, she saw that his dark curls had been cropped close to his head in regulation Army style. But she would have known that lean face and those black, wolfish eyes anywhere.

  A jolt of emotion ran through her. For a moment they stared at each other, neither of them speaking. In the end, it was Mr Hudson who broke the silence.

  ‘You made it, then?’

  ‘Just about.’ Tom’s gaze was still fixed on Anna as he spoke. ‘Had a few close calls, mind.’

  ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘In the summer. Caught a lump of shrapnel in my leg, and that was it for me. Been convalescing on the coast ever since.’

  ‘All right for some.’

  Tom dragged his gaze away from Anna to fix Mr Hudson with a look so dark with meaning the older man’s face coloured.

  ‘Yes, well, I’d best get back to work,’ he mumbled, turning away. ‘It’s nice to see you back, son. Well done for getting through it.’

  Tom didn’t reply. He took a cigarette from his pocket, clamped it between his lips. He lit up as he watched Mr Hudson’s door close behind him.

  ‘Four years ago he wouldn’t have given me the time of day,’ he muttered. ‘Now suddenly I’m a hero.’

  ‘They’ll be putting out the flags again, just for you.’ Anna tri
ed to smile but her mouth wouldn’t work.

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ Tom nodded towards the burned-out bakery. ‘What’s been going on here, then?’

  ‘There was a fire, about a month ago.’

  She saw him fighting for control, and knew he was thinking about the last time it had happened. ‘Were you in there?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘No. But we think Edward might have been.’

  ‘Is he—’

  ‘No one knows,’ Anna cut him off before he could say the word. Even now she didn’t like to hear it. ‘He’s not been seen since. We don’t know if he escaped or not.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you?’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘What?’

  ‘There was never any love lost between you, was there?’

  Tom sent a long stream of smoke into the air. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘But I’m sorry for you. For your loss. You loved him.’

  Anna stole a glance at his hawkish profile as he looked up at the charred remains of the bakery. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she couldn’t find the words.

  His presence confused her. After staring at her so hard at first, now he couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at her.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘Pull it down, I suppose. I can’t afford to rebuild it.’

  ‘But surely there’s insurance?’

  ‘They won’t pay out. They reckon it wasn’t an accident.’

  If Tom was surprised, he didn’t show it. He took another long drag on his cigarette. ‘And what do you reckon?’ he asked.

  ‘I reckon they’re right. Edward owed money to the wrong people. Gambling debts, mostly. He took as much as he could out of the business, and then when all that was gone he borrowed from Billy Willis.’ She couldn’t look at Tom as she spoke. Strange as it seemed, she felt a kind of shame, as if Edward’s downfall had somehow been her fault.

  ‘And let me guess. He was arrogant enough to think he could get away without paying back his debt?’

  Anna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the pavement. ‘But I’m told Billy Willis always collects his debts, one way or another.’

  ‘That he does.’ Tom paused for a moment, then said, ‘What’s he said to you? Do you still owe him?’