Nightingales on Call Page 19

  ‘I’ll look for it straight away, love,’ Dora promised.

  There was no sign of Lucy when Dora went into Ernest’s room. He was lying against the pillows, playing Patience on his bed table. He looked blank when Dora asked him about the comic.

  ‘I finished reading it three days ago,’ he said, with a touch of regret in his voice. ‘I sent it back to him.’

  ‘Well, Archie says he hasn’t got it.’

  ‘But I gave it to Nurse Lane.’

  ‘Perhaps she put it back in your locker?’ Dora had just crouched down to take a look when Lucy walked in with her arms full of fresh bedding.

  ‘Oh, good, you can help me make up this bed,’ she said. ‘I was going to get one of the pros to help me, but you might as well do it as you’re here.’

  Dora stiffened at her careless order. Why did Lucy always act as if she were the senior?

  ‘Have you seen the comic?’ Ernest asked. ‘I gave it to you to give to Archie.’

  ‘Oh, that nasty old thing? I took it away and burned it.’

  Dora stared at her. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I asked Sister Parry about it, and she said I should take it down to the stoke hole.’ Lucy put the bedding down and arranged two chairs at the foot of the bed. ‘Right, young man, let’s have you out of here.’

  Dora looked at Ernest. He looked back at her, his face aghast. ‘But it belonged to Archie,’ she said.

  ‘All the more reason it should be thrown on the fire, in that case.’ Lucy shrugged. ‘Really, Doyle, you should know better than to let the children borrow each other’s things. You know what Sister Parry says about spreading germs. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you off about it.’

  Dora didn’t reply. Deep down, she knew Lucy was right. But as far as she was concerned, the happiness it had brought a lonely boy outweighed any risk involved.

  Ernest broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a choked voice.

  ‘It’s not your fault, love.’ Dora glared at Lucy.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she defended herself.

  ‘I feel as if it is my fault,’ Ernest said. ‘Shall I go and talk to Archie? I should apologise to him . . .’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Lucy cut in before Dora could reply. ‘You’re not allowed out of your room. No, Doyle can explain,’ she said, with a malicious little smile. ‘She’s so good with all the children, I’m sure Archie won’t mind if she tells him what happened.’

  Dora would willingly have scrubbed a thousand bedpans rather than break the horrible news to Archie. He looked up as she approached his bed. The sight of his face, bright with expectation, nearly broke her heart.

  ‘Hello, Nurse Doily,’ he greeted her. ‘Has he finished with it?’

  Dora took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Archie,’ she said.

  His smile dropped. ‘What’s he done to it? He’d better not have torn any of the pages out.’

  ‘It wasn’t Ernest’s fault. But I’m afraid your comic got taken away and destroyed.’

  Archie’s face was blank with shock. ‘Destroyed?’

  ‘One of the other nurses took it away. It was an accident,’ Dora said. ‘I’m so sorry, Archie. I’ll see about buying you a new one, I promise.’

  ‘’S’all right, Nurse.’ Archie’s chin wobbled, and for a moment she thought he was going to cry. But then he took a big gulp and wiped his nose on his pyjama sleeve. ‘Worse things happen at sea, eh?’

  The sight of his little set face, so determined not to give in to his sadness, made Dora want to cry herself.

  Archie stayed on her mind all day. Whenever she passed down the ward she could see him sitting in bed, staring down at his hands, his face desolate. She was determined to make it up to him, but had a feeling that even a new comic wouldn’t replace the cherished gift.

  She was still simmering about it when she joined the rest of her set at the third-year table for supper.

  ‘You look fed-up,’ Katie commented, as she passed Dora the plate of bread. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’m just a bit upset about something that happened on the ward today.’

  Lucy gave a loud sigh from the other end of the table. ‘Honestly, Doyle, you’re not still going on about that, are you?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘For heaven’s sake, it was only a beastly comic. It’s not as if anyone died!’

  ‘I know,’ Dora said. ‘But a little boy was still heartbroken. Not that it would matter to you!’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Millie jumped in straight away, trying to soothe the situation.

  ‘It is!’ Dora said. ‘She doesn’t care about the children at all. She’s got no time for any of them.’

  Lucy threw down her fork with a clatter. ‘Just because I don’t run around like you, trying to make all the children love me.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You’re only interested in making Sister Parry love you!’

  ‘So what if I do try hard? We need good ward reports if we’re going to be invited to stay on here after State Finals. Being nice to some scruffy little urchin isn’t going to get me a staff nurse position after I qualify.’

  ‘That’s all you really care about, isn’t it? Being the best.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Why should I want to be anything else?’

  ‘Just because you come top in your exams doesn’t make you a good nurse,’ Dora muttered.

  ‘And just because you break all the rules doesn’t make you a good nurse either,’ Lucy shot back. She stood up, pushing back her chair.

  ‘Aren’t you going to finish your supper?’ Katie asked.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  And then she was gone. An uncomfortable silence fell around the table, broken only by the sound of Katie scraping the contents of Lucy’s plate on to her own.

  Millie sighed. ‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘it’s only another week until our ward allocation finishes. Then you won’t have to work with her any more.’

  ‘I’m counting the days,’ Dora muttered.

  Lucy stomped back to the nurses’ home, still seething.

  How dare Dora criticise her, just because she tried hard to do her job? Of course she wanted to be the best. Her parents had always drummed into her that trying hard wasn’t enough. She had to stand out, to shine. Winning was everything in her world.

  But the truth was, she was at a loss on the children’s ward. The sight of all those little faces looking up at her so expectantly frightened Lucy more than she wanted to admit. So rather than admit it, she took refuge behind her charts and her medicine trolley, and told herself she was doing a good job.

  And as for that wretched comic . . . why did Dora have to keep going on about it? However she might try to cover it up, Lucy did feel guilty about her actions. She didn’t deliberately set out to upset a child. Left to her own devices, she might have apologised to Archie, even bought him a comic to replace the one she’d destroyed. But Dora went on about it as if Lucy had committed the worst sin in the world, which only made her more determined to defend herself.

  At least it wouldn’t be for much longer, she comforted herself. Another week and she would be assigned to a new ward. Hopefully one where she didn’t have to watch Dora Doyle charming everyone all day long.

  She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts she didn’t notice the tall figure waiting under the arch that led to the nurses’ home, until he stepped into her path and she almost walked into him.

  ‘Miss Lane?’

  She recognised his voice first, that lazy American drawl so deep it seemed to come from his boots. She looked up and found herself staring into the disarmingly handsome face of Leo Alderson.

  ‘Do you remember me?’ he said. ‘We met at your parents’ soirée back in April.’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Lucy smiled to cover the nervousness that suddenly raced like fire through her veins. ‘What are you doing here, Mr Alderson? Are you sick or injured in some way? Only the Casualty department is over there . . .’

&nbs
p; ‘I don’t need a doctor, thank you. I’m here to see you.’

  ‘Me?’ Panic fluttered in her chest. ‘Whatever for?’

  Leo sent her a long, appraising look. ‘Is it true your father’s disappeared?’ he asked.

  For a moment Lucy couldn’t speak. She was conscious of him watching her, knowing that every second she stayed silent made him more suspicious.

  Finally, she found her voice. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she squeaked.

  ‘Don’t you? I’ve heard rumours Sir Bernard hasn’t been seen around for a while. Which is kind of unusual for a born showman like your father, wouldn’t you say?’ Leo’s brows lifted.

  Lucy thought fast. ‘If you must know, he’s in America.’

  ‘That’s what his friend Mr Bird says too.’

  Lucy relaxed. ‘There you are, then. Mystery solved.’

  ‘Except I’ve been talking to my contacts in the States and no one’s seen Sir Bernard over there either.’

  Lucy pulled herself together enough to manage a level of frosty hauteur. ‘America is quite a big place, Mr Alderson. Surely even you don’t know everyone there?’

  ‘No,’ he conceded, ‘but I know the kind of people your father might need to speak to.’ He paused. ‘You want to know what I think?’

  ‘No,’ said Lucy, walking away from him.

  ‘OK, here’s what I think. I think this German deal has gone wrong and he’s fled.’

  Lucy gave a forced laugh. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  ‘Because he can’t face the fact that he’s failed. The great Sir Bernard Lane, Britain’s own King Midas, faces financial ruin. Imagine how ashamed he must feel. I guess if I were him I’d probably want to run away and hide, too.’

  ‘You don’t know my father. He would never run away from anything.’ Lucy was glad the darkness hid her guilty expression.

  ‘So where is he?’

  ‘I told you, he’s gone to America.’

  Lucy carried on walking. She could see the nurses’ home ahead of her. Another twenty yards and she would be safe.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re defending him when he’s abandoned you and your mother,’ Leo called after her.

  Lucy froze. Leo’s footsteps crunched on the gravel as he approached her, but she couldn’t turn around to face him. She was too afraid he would look into her eyes and know he was right.

  ‘If my sources are correct then your father has staked everything on this deal, including his personal fortune.’ He was standing close to her now, close enough to touch. ‘Your family stands to lose everything. What kind of man would run off and abandon his loved ones to that kind of fate?’

  Lucy took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Not my father,’ she said.

  ‘No?’

  She flinched as she felt Leo’s hand on her arm. Then she realised he was pressing a card into her hand. ‘This is where you can find me,’ he said softly. ‘Give me a call when you’re tired of defending him.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  EFFIE HAD FORGOTTEN how long Sunday morning Mass could be.

  Without her mammy to nag her into going, she hadn’t been to church at all since she had arrived in London. There had been so many more exciting things to experience, going to Mass was the last thing on her mind.

  But now she kneeled down at the back of the church beside her sister Bridget, her hands clasped firmly together, praying with all her might that Our Father might forgive her and see fit to answer her pleas.

  Because He was her only hope.

  Her ears were still ringing from the reprimand Matron had given her that morning. Effie hadn’t imagined it would be that bad as she lined up outside Miss Fox’s office with all the other nervous nurses awaiting their turn for a telling off. She knew from her interview that Matron was a lovely woman, softly spoken, with kind grey eyes. She wasn’t a dried-up old dragon like her Assistant Matron, Miss Hanley, either. If anyone might remember what it was like to be young and foolish, it was Kathleen Fox.

  But the woman who faced Effie across the desk was not the friendly, smiling Matron she remembered. Those grey eyes were like flint beneath the starched canopy of her headdress as she took Effie apart with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel.

  ‘You are in a very privileged position, Nurse O’Hara,’ she had said, her naturally soft voice tinged with ice. ‘Hundreds of girls apply to train at the Nightingale, and most of them are unsuccessful. You were very fortunate to have been chosen.’

  Effie remembered her sister’s warning to her to keep her head down, agree with everything her superiors said, apologise even when it wasn’t her fault and on no account to answer back. ‘I know, Matron,’ she whispered.

  ‘If you are aware of that, then why are you so determined to waste such an opportunity?’ Matron glanced through the notes in front of her. ‘According to Sister Parker, you are a capable girl, but you are lazy and inattentive. Sister Sutton also tells me that you are noisy, disruptive and have no idea about punctuality.’ Matron looked up. ‘Does that sound like the kind of girl we would want in this hospital?’

  Effie felt a lump rising in her throat. She shook her head, not daring to speak.

  ‘I have to tell you, Nurse O’Hara, that your future at the Nightingale is by no means certain,’ Matron went on. ‘Preliminary Training is nothing more than a trial period. Even if you pass your PTS examination – and I have to tell you, from what Sister Parker reports that doesn’t look likely – we may still decide not to accept you for further training. To be a Nightingale nurse is to be acknowledged as the best. Consequently we expect high standards. And you, O’Hara, are falling very far short at the moment.’

  Effie stared at her. Until that moment it simply hadn’t occurred to her that she might be thrown out.

  But now, as she kneeled in church, the sunshine through the stained-glass windows scattering jewels of coloured light over the worn stone floor, Effie had to accept the awful truth. She was going home.

  The service finished and she followed her sister out into the sunshine. The air was fresh after the heavy scent of incense inside the church.

  ‘Do you mind if I go for a walk?’ Effie asked as Bridget turned to head back to the hospital. She couldn’t face returning to another lecture from Katie.

  ‘I suppose not, as long as you don’t get yourself lost. Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No – thank you. I’d rather be on my own, if you don’t mind?’

  Bridget frowned at her. ‘Are you all right? You’ve been in an odd mood all morning.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Effie winced at the lie. Now she had dishonesty to add to her list of sins. And she hadn’t even been to confession. ‘I just need a breath of fresh air, that’s all.’

  ‘See you don’t get into any trouble,’ Bridget warned her.

  Effie sighed. It’s a bit late for that, she thought.

  Victoria Park was bathed in midsummer sunshine. Effie sat on a bench and watched the boats on the lake, trying to lift her spirits. But the happiness and laughter all around her only made her realise how much she would miss it all when she was sent back to Ireland. How would she ever be able to bear the shame of being the only O’Hara sister not to become a Nightingale girl? Her mammy would never let her hear the last of it. She would grow old and die in Killarney under her mother’s watchful eye.

  And she would never see Hugo again. After last night, she was almost certain she was in love with him. But once she was sent away he would probably forget all about her.

  Effie pulled the slim textbook out of her bag and opened it. She had brought it with her, hoping that different surroundings might somehow make it easier to take in. But as she forced herself to read a chapter, all she could think of was how far behind she was. Catching up seemed like a hopeless task.

  The words blurred on the page as hot tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.

  Effie closed the book with a sigh. It didn’t look as if anyone was going to answ
er her prayer after all.

  ‘Heel! Come back, you daft bugger!’

  Jess hauled at the lead, yanking Sparky back to her side. He strained on the end of her arm, yapping in frustration at the duck waddling away, just out of reach of his nose.

  She couldn’t blame the poor little thing for being overexcited. He spent most of his time with Sister Sutton in her office or her flat. The only time he saw the world was his daily amble around the grounds of the nurses’ home. No wonder he was always so bad-tempered.

  Which was why she’d convinced Sister Sutton to let her take him for a stroll in the park. It had taken nearly a week to persuade her, and even then the Home Sister had only relented on the understanding that Jess shouldn’t let him off the lead or out of her sight.

  But it had been worth it. Sparky loved every minute of his walk, paddling on the edge of the lake, snuffling through the grass and sniffing trees.

  ‘Come on, boy, time to go home. Sister will be worrying about you.’

  As Jess turned to follow the tree-lined avenue back towards the gate, she spotted Effie sitting on a bench ahead of her. Even from a distance Jess could tell she was upset. Her dark head drooped like a flower on the slender stalk of her neck.

  Don’t get involved, Jess warned herself, pulling on Sparky’s lead to turn back the way they’d come. Whatever’s wrong, it’s none of your business.

  She started to walk away, but she couldn’t get the image of the girl’s downcast face out of her mind. Before she even knew what she was doing, Jess had turned around again and was walking towards her.

  ‘Effie?’

  She looked up with a wobbly smile. ‘Hello, Jess. Fancy seeing you here.’

  Jess noticed the book in her hands. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were studying. I won’t disturb you.’

  ‘No, please, you’re not disturbing me. I could do with the company.’

  Jess sat down beside her. ‘I can’t stay long,’ she said. ‘Sister Sutton will be worried about Sparky.’

  Effie didn’t reply. Sparky stood on his back legs and propped his paws on her knees, but she ignored him. She stared out across the lake, lost in her own thoughts.