The Nightingale Nurses Page 2

  Millie chewed her lip worriedly. ‘I wish I were going to Casualty with you, Doyle. I’ve heard it’s so much fun down there.’

  ‘If you don’t mind severed limbs and people dropping dead at your feet!’ Dora sent a stream of cigarette smoke up through the open window into the chilly night sky, then twisted round to look at Helen. ‘Where are they sending you, Tremayne?’

  ‘Theatre.’

  ‘Oh, how exciting!’ Millie joined in. ‘I’d love to be a Theatre nurse.’

  Dora cackled with laughter. ‘You? In Theatre?’

  Millie frowned. ‘What’s so amusing about that?’

  ‘No one would ever send you to Theatre. You’re far too accident-prone.’ Trust Dora to spell it out, Helen thought as she pulled off her apron and stuffed it into her laundry bag. Typical Doyle, always blunt and to the point.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Millie looked so injured, Helen couldn’t help smiling. She glanced at Dora. She was fighting to keep her face straight too.

  ‘Let’s see . . .’ Dora pretended to consider. ‘Remember that time you cleaned everyone’s false teeth in the same bowl and then couldn’t remember which set was which? And what about the time you gave a patient a delousing treatment and accidentally bleached their hair?’

  ‘And don’t forget nearly drowning Sister Hyde with a soap enema,’ Helen put in.

  ‘All right, all right. You’ve made your point,’ Millie sighed.

  She looked so dejected, Helen’s heart went out to her. ‘You more than make up for it in other ways,’ she said soothingly.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well . . . you’re very kind, and compassionate. And you have a way of talking to people that makes them feel better. Everyone adores you.’

  Millie had a way of winning people over. Even grumpy Sister Hyde on Female Chronics had been a little tearful when Nurse Benedict left her ward.

  Another muffled squawk of laughter came up through the floorboards, followed by a crash.

  Millie shook her head. ‘They’re asking for trouble down there.’

  ‘What are they celebrating, anyway?’ Dora asked.

  ‘Bevan’s got engaged.’ Helen wriggled into her flannel nightgown. ‘Her junior doctor popped the question two days ago.’

  ‘At this rate there won’t be any of us left after we qualify.’ Millie looked down at her bare left hand. She wasn’t allowed to wear the engagement ring her journalist boyfriend Sebastian had given her before he left for an assignment in Berlin. ‘It’s so silly, really. You’d think they’d let us carry on working after we get married, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what Sister Sutton would say about having husbands in the nurses’ home!’ Helen smiled.

  ‘You’re not moving Seb in here,’ Dora warned. ‘It’s bad enough with the three of us.’

  ‘Can you imagine?’ Millie laughed. ‘No, I’m sure they could make some arrangements, though. It seems such a waste, to spend three years training and then have to leave.’

  ‘I don’t think Bevan is too worried about that.’ Helen picked up her hairbrush. ‘From what I could make out, she can’t wait to say goodbye to the Nightingale and all its rules and regulations.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to leave,’ Millie said. ‘I’d like to stay on after I get married, if they’ll let me. But I don’t suppose I’ll get the chance. Once I’m married, that’s it.’

  ‘You could always put off the wedding?’ Helen suggested.

  Millie shook her head. ‘I’ve already kept poor Seb waiting long enough. And I suspect my grandmother would have an absolute fit if I told her we were postponing the wedding. She’s desperate for me to marry and produce a suitable heir to inherit the estate before anything happens to my father.’

  She was so matter-of-fact about it, Helen could only marvel at her. Millie had a huge weight resting on her shoulders. The future of her family depended on her producing a son. She had been groomed by her grandmother for a suitable marriage almost from the moment she was born. Millie had made a brave bid for independence by training as a nurse. But they all knew her freedom would have to end one day.

  ‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘When are you and Charlie planning to get married?’

  Helen pulled a blanket around her shoulders to keep out the chilly April air that blew in through the open window. ‘I’m not sure. I’d have to talk to my mother . . .’

  ‘You’re over twenty-one, surely you can do as you please?’

  ‘Even so, my mother would expect to be consulted.’

  ‘I don’t see why she would object. Charlie is adorable, and anyone can see the two of you are head over heels in love.’

  Helen glanced up into Millie’s candid blue eyes. If only life was as simple, she thought.

  ‘Can we stop talking about weddings for five minutes?’ Dora interrupted them sharply.

  Millie turned to her, startled. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m just sick of hearing about people getting married.’ Dora took off her shoes and climbed on to her bed, leaned out of the window and stubbed her cigarette on the ledge, then tossed the stub into the night air.

  Before Millie could reply, Sister Sutton’s voice rang out from the passageway below them.

  ‘Lights out at ten o’clock, Nurses.’

  Millie and Helen left Dora changing into her nightclothes and joined the line of girls shivering in the passageway outside the bathroom.

  ‘You don’t have to stand here with me, you know,’ Millie reminded Helen, pulling her dressing gown more tightly around her. ‘You’re a senior. You could go to the front of the queue.’

  As if to prove her point, Amy Hollins, Brenda Bevan and a few of the others from her set drifted down the passageway from Hollins’ room and elbowed their way straight into the bathroom, laughing at the glaring faces of the junior students who had to move back to let them in.

  ‘I might as well stay here.’

  ‘Suit yourself. But you know they’ll take all the hot water before we get there, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m sure there’ll be some left for us.’ Helen smiled.

  Millie sent her a narrow look. ‘You know, you’re not nearly bullying enough,’ she said. ‘I bet you don’t make pros do all the dirty jobs on the ward, either.’

  ‘I don’t like ordering other people around.’

  ‘In that case, you’ll never be a ward sister!’ Millie nodded towards Amy Hollins. ‘Perhaps you should take a few lessons from her?’

  ‘I don’t know about that!’

  Millie paused for a moment, then changed the subject. ‘Doyle was rather cross earlier, don’t you think?’ she commented. ‘What do you suppose is the matter with her?’

  ‘I don’t know. Her friend is getting married tomorrow, and Doyle’s a bridesmaid. Perhaps that has something to do with it.’

  ‘So she is,’ Millie remembered. ‘But I still don’t see why that should make her so irritable. If anything, she should be happy about it.’

  ‘I suppose so. But you never really know what she’s thinking, do you?’

  Helen had been intimidated by Dora at first, the way those green eyes looked out so challengingly at the world, as if she would take on anyone who came near her. She had come to understand that was just Dora’s way, that she was a typical East End girl, down to earth and fiercely proud. But she kept her feelings locked away under a tough exterior.

  ‘Perhaps she’s just upset because she has a ghastly dress?’ Millie suggested.

  ‘You could be right,’ Helen agreed. Whatever was on Dora’s mind, Helen doubted they would ever find out about it.

  Chapter Two

  RAIN WEPT OVER the back streets of Bethnal Green on the day Dora Doyle’s best friend Ruby Pike married Nick Riley.

  ‘Talk about April showers!’ Ruby grimaced, clearing a patch on the steamy kitchen window to look down over the back yard. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon it was as dark as twilight outside. ‘It’s coming down
in stair rods.’

  ‘Come over here and keep still. I’ll never get this seam straight if you keep running off,’ Dora mumbled through a mouth full of pins as she knelt at her friend’s feet.

  It was chaos in the Pikes’ crowded kitchen. Ruby’s father Len jostled at the sink with her brothers Dennis and Frank, all trying to shave in front of the tiny scrap of mirror. Her mum Lettie was cleaning shoes at the kitchen table, a pinnie fastened over her best dress.

  Meanwhile, Dora was on her hands and knees, doing a last-minute repair to the bride’s hem.

  It was the last place she wanted to be. But Ruby was her best friend, they’d grown up next door to each other in the narrow, cramped tenements of Griffin Street, and Dora had made a promise that she would be bridesmaid.

  ‘I dunno why you’re bothering. I’ll look like a drowned rat by the time I get to the church anyway.’ Ruby sighed. ‘My Nick will probably run a mile when he sees me.’

  ‘If he turns up!’ Dennis suggested cheekily.

  ‘He might do a runner,’ Frank agreed. He and Dennis looked at each other, then both broke into song: ‘“There was I, waiting at the church” – ow!’ they chorused, as their father fetched them both a slap round the ear.

  ‘He’d better bleeding turn up or I’ll have him, I don’t care how big he is. He’s had his fun, now he’s got to pay for it!’ Len Pike grumbled.

  ‘You, go up against Nick Riley? I’d like to see you try!’ his wife sneered. ‘He’d make mincemeat of you!’

  Len Pike huffed and blew out his cheeks, but they all knew Lettie was right. No one in their right mind would ever take on Nick Riley. Even by the tough standards of the East End, Nick had a reputation.

  ‘He’d better bloody turn up, that’s all I’m saying,’ Len mumbled. ‘He’s got you into this mess, my girl, he’ll have to get you out!’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Lettie scolded him. ‘You don’t have to tell the whole world our business!’

  ‘I’ve got news for you. The whole world already knows!’ Len Pike scraped at his chin and flicked the bristly soap towards the plug hole. ‘There’s only one reason a girl gets married this quick, and that’s because there’s a baby on the way. What I want to know is, why you have to make such a show of it?’ he said, picking up the teatowel to mop his face. ‘Why couldn’t you just go off and do it quiet in a register office, like any decent girl would?’

  ‘I don’t do anything quiet, Dad. You should know that!’

  Ruby winked at Dora. Everyone said Ruby Pike had more front than Southend, and she was proving it today. Even in her demure wedding dress, she looked like one of the film stars she followed so avidly in Picturegoer. The bias-cut silver morocaine clung lovingly to her generous curves. She’d styled her hair like Jean Harlow, the platinum-blonde waves curling softly around her pretty face.

  No wonder Nick hadn’t been able to resist her. There weren’t many red-blooded men in Bethnal Green who could.

  ‘Why shouldn’t my Ruby have a white wedding if she wants one?’ Lettie defended her. ‘This is her big day and I won’t have anyone spoiling it for her.’ She smiled fondly at her daughter. ‘Baby or not, she and Nick would have got wed sooner or later. You only have to look at him to see he’s besotted with her.’

  The needle caught the end of Dora’s finger, making her yelp.

  ‘Careful!’ Ruby frowned down at her. ‘I don’t want you getting blood on my dress.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Dora sucked her finger. As she did, she glanced up and found herself meeting Lettie’s hard dark stare. Even her wedding finery and the unfamiliar slash of red lipstick she wore didn’t soften her thin, bitter face. There was a warning look in her eyes that made Dora uneasy.

  The back door crashed downstairs, in the Rileys’ part of the house.

  ‘I expect that’ll be my Nick, on his way to church,’ Ruby said with a smile.

  Dennis went to the window and looked out. ‘I can see June Riley, wearing a daft titfer covered in feathers.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’ Lettie peered over her son’s shoulder down into the yard. ‘Look at the state of her. She can hardly walk in a straight line. Fancy being half cut this time of the morning, and for her own son’s wedding,’ she tutted.

  ‘Where’s Nick? Isn’t he with her?’ Dora heard the tremor in Ruby’s voice.

  ‘I expect he’s already gone,’ Lettie soothed.

  ‘I didn’t hear him leave.’ Ruby’s plump mouth pursed. ‘I’m going downstairs to look for him.’

  She started for the door, but Lettie stopped her. ‘You can’t! It’s unlucky for him to see his bride before the wedding.’

  Ruby hesitated, then turned to Dora. ‘You go,’ she said.

  ‘Me? But I haven’t finished sewing . . .’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. I want you to go downstairs and see if Nick’s gone.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Dora. Be a mate? I don’t want to get to church and find out he’s left me standing at the altar!’

  Dora saw her friend’s nervous smile, stretched almost to breaking point. ‘All right,’ she agreed, standing up and brushing down her dress. ‘But I’m telling you now, you haven’t got anything to worry about.’

  Downstairs, all was in darkness. Dora knocked on the Rileys’ kitchen door and held her breath, counting to ten.

  One . . . two . . . She stared at the peeling paintwork.

  Five . . . six . . . She took a step backwards, already retreating towards the stairs.

  Nine . . . ten. No reply. She had turned to hurry away when the door flew open and Nick stood there.

  Seeing him almost stopped Dora’s heart in her chest.

  No one could call Nick Riley handsome, with his flattened boxer’s nose and brooding expression. But there was something compelling about the intense blue eyes that scowled out from under a mane of dark gypsy curls.

  She looked away quickly, dragging her gaze from his unbuttoned shirt. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Ruby just sent me down. She wasn’t sure if you’d already gone . . .’

  ‘I was just leaving.’

  ‘Right. I’ll tell her . . .’ Dora started to turn away, but Nick called her back.

  ‘Wait. I need your help.’

  She looked around, dry-mouthed with panic, looking for a way to escape. ‘I’m needed upstairs . . .’

  ‘Please.’ Nick’s voice was husky. ‘It’s Danny,’ he said.

  The Rileys’ kitchen was a cold, unwelcoming place, stinking of damp and rancid fat. The walls were furred with black patches of mould. The houses in Griffin Street weren’t palaces, but most of the women Dora knew tried hard to keep them clean and tidy. Except for June Riley. She had always been more interested in her next drink or her latest man than in looking after her two sons.

  Dora averted her eyes from the dirty dishes littering the table and went over to where Nick’s younger brother Danny sat huddled in a corner of the room, his knees pulled up to his chin, face buried against them. He was half dressed in shiny suit trousers and a grubby vest, his feet bare.

  ‘I was helping him to get dressed when he suddenly decided he wasn’t going to come,’ Nick said. ‘Now I can’t get him to budge. He won’t even tell me what’s wrong.’ His gaze was fixed on his brother. ‘He’s always trusted you, Dora,’ he said gruffly. ‘I thought you could talk to him.’

  She glanced at Nick’s profile then at Danny, shivering in the corner. ‘I’ll try,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks.’ Nick went over and crouched down beside his brother. ‘Danny?’ He put a hand on his shoulder, but Danny flinched away. Dora saw the look of pain flash across Nick’s face. ‘Dan, Dora’s come to have a word with you. You like Dora, don’t you?’

  Danny didn’t move. Nick straightened up and turned to Dora, his face beseeching.

  ‘Look after him,’ he whispered. ‘And if anyone’s hurt him, or said anything . . .’

  ‘Just go and finish getting ready,’ she said.

  As the door closed behin
d him, Dora went over to where Danny was crouched and sat down beside him, carefully rearranging her pink dress around her so it didn’t pick up too much dust from the floor.

  ‘Now then, Danny ducks, what’s all this about you not wanting to go to your brother’s wedding?’ she coaxed softly. ‘We can’t have that, can we? You’re his best man. He’s relying on you.’

  Danny lifted his head slowly to look at her with red-rimmed, watery eyes. He was as pale as his brother was dark, with thin, gangling limbs that made him seem all disjointed angles.

  ‘Th-they said I sh-shouldn’t go.’ He sniffed back his tears. ‘Th-they s-said I – I’d l-let everyone down.’

  ‘Who said that?’ But even as she said it, Dora already knew the answer.

  ‘F-Frank and D-Dennis.’ Danny wiped his nose with his wrist. He was nearly eighteen years old, but still had the innocent, vulnerable mind of a child. Easy prey for cruel thugs like the Pike boys. ‘They s-said Nick sh-shouldn’t h-have me as his b-best man because everyone will l-laugh at m-me.’

  ‘No one’s going to laugh at you, sweetheart.’ Dora smoothed his fair hair back off his face. Not while your brother’s there, at any rate, she thought. Nick would string Frank and Dennis up if he knew they’d been tormenting Danny. ‘You don’t want to take any notice of that pair. They’re just bullies, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m f-frightened of them,’ Danny mumbled. ‘And I’m f-frightened of R-Ruby too. She just laughs when they s-say things to me.’

  ‘Does she now?’

  Danny nodded. ‘I h-heard her telling her m-mum she didn’t know why Nick had p-picked me to b-be his best man.’

  Dora fought to keep her temper. It was no less than she’d expected from Dennis and Frank, but she was disappointed in her friend.

  Danny couldn’t help being the way he was. He’d been left brain-damaged by a terrible accident when he was a child, although there were many in Griffin Street who suspected that it was his violent father Reg who’d caused the injury, shortly before he abandoned his family.