The Nightingale Nurses Read online

  She brought her knee up with all her strength between Joe’s legs. He buckled instantly, doubling up, gurgling with shock and pain.

  He let her go to clutch at his groin and Dora seized her chance to get away, kicking off her heels and sprinting down the road towards the hospital.

  Helen was sitting up in bed studying when Dora burst in.

  ‘You’re early, I didn’t expect—’ Her smile died when she looked up and saw the state her friend was in. Dora’s dress was smeared with dirt, one strap hanging loosely off her freckled shoulder. Her shoes were missing and her stockings were shredded and bloody. ‘Oh my God, Doyle, what happened to you?’

  ‘I fell over.’

  Helen threw down her pen and scrambled off the bed. ‘You’re shaking like a leaf.’

  ‘I’m just a bit c-cold, that’s all.’ Dora sank down on her bed. She didn’t resist as Helen pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, fussing over her.

  ‘What really happened?’ she asked.

  ‘I told you, I fell over.’

  Helen looked at the fingertip-shaped bruises blossoming on the plump flesh of Dora’s arms. ‘And did you get these falling over, too?’ Dora stared at the ground. ‘You can tell me. I’m your friend.’

  Dora was silent, her jaw obstinately set.

  ‘Very well,’ Helen sighed. ‘At least let me help get you cleaned up.’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘I’m sure you can, but I want to help. You get undressed while I run you a bath.’

  At least with everyone out at the ball there was enough hot water for a decent bath. Helen filled the tub to the brim. All the time she couldn’t stop thinking about those bruises on her friend’s arms, or the bloody grazes down her back.

  She had just finished running the bath when Dora came in, huddled in her old dressing gown.

  ‘There you are,’ said Helen. ‘You’ll feel better after a nice hot soak.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Dora’s lips were so swollen and bruised, she could barely manage a smile.

  ‘I wish I could do more.’ Helen hesitated. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?’

  Dora shook her head. ‘I already said—’

  ‘You fell over. Yes, I know,’ Helen sighed.

  She went back to their room. Dora’s clothes were abandoned in a heap beside her bed. Helen picked up her shredded, blood-stained stockings and threw them away, then folded up the dress and stuffed it to the back of the wardrobe.

  Dora returned half an hour later, her red hair hanging in damp corkscrew curls around her face.

  ‘Do you feel better?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Much better, thanks.’ But Helen noticed how carefully Dora eased off her dressing gown, wincing with pain. She was wearing her flannel nightgown underneath, feet rammed into her old slippers.

  Helen watched her out of the corner of her eye as she turned off her bedside lamp and slipped into bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin. There was no point in trying to talk to her any more, she decided. Once Dora had made her mind up she wasn’t going to speak, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged a word out of her.

  Helen went back to making her notes, and a moment later she heard Dora’s deep, even breathing, telling her she had drifted off to sleep.

  ‘Describe the complications of Scarlet Fever.’ Helen shuddered as she read the sample exam question, thinking of Charlie.

  Seeing him so ill had frightened her. But she forced herself to be practical. His mother was right: Scarlet Fever might be nasty but in a week or two he would be as right as rain.

  She picked up her pen and began to write. ‘Complications of Scarlet Fever include otitis medea, hyperpyrexia, kidney failure—’

  ‘No!’ Dora’s sudden cry made Helen jump, splotching ink on the virgin whiteness of her new page. ‘Get off me! Don’t touch me!’

  ‘Doyle?’ Helen put down her pen, slipped out of bed and crossed the room. ‘Doyle, wake up!’ She held Dora’s thrashing arms, trying to still her. ‘It’s all right, you’re safe.’

  Dora’s eyes shot open. Her body was rigid. ‘Where . . . what happened?’

  ‘You had a nightmare,’ Helen soothed her. ‘But it’s all right now, you’re quite safe.’

  She put out her hand to stroke the curls off Dora’s face. She felt Dora flinch under her touch, then the fight seemed to go out of her and she relaxed. A few moments later, she drifted back to sleep.

  Helen was still writing by torchlight when Millie crept in just after midnight. She tiptoed exaggeratedly across the room, her shoes in her hand.

  ‘How did you get in?’ Helen whispered.

  ‘We climbed through O’Hara’s window.’ Millie hiccuped loudly. ‘It was safer than climbing all the way up here.’

  ‘You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck, the state you’re in.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, we’ve done it lots of times. It’s perfectly safe . . . ouch!’ Millie tripped over her bedframe and stumbled headlong across the room.

  Helen watched her climbing to her feet, and tried not to smile. ‘Did you have fun?’

  ‘Rather! Our gin ran out quite quickly, but luckily we met a couple of very sweet med students who sneaked us drinks. We were all terribly merry, but then one of the boys was sick all over Mr Latimer’s Bentley. Such larks! His chauffeur was utterly furious. Chased us for miles.’ She shrieked with laughter, then quickly covered her mouth.

  She flopped backwards on to her bed, her arms outspread. ‘How was your evening?’

  ‘Charlie has Scarlet Fever.’

  ‘Really?’ Millie catapulted upright, instantly alert. ‘Oh, bad luck. How is he?’

  ‘Feeling very sorry for himself, so his mother says.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Scarlet Fever is beastly. But I’m sure he’ll be up and about in no time.’

  Dora stirred. Millie squinted into the darkness. ‘Is that Doyle? What’s she doing back so early?’

  Helen hesitated, wondering whether to tell Millie about the state Dora was in when she returned home. She doubted if their room mate would thank her for sharing the secret.

  ‘I think she wanted an early night,’ she said, and glanced back at Dora’s hunched shape under the sheets. ‘She had another nightmare.’

  ‘Really? She hasn’t had one of those in months.’ Millie turned to look at Dora, frowning. ‘I wonder what brought that on?’

  Helen looked at the girl, fast asleep again. ‘I wonder,’ she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘BUT JOE’S SAID he’s sorry,’ Katie O’Hara protested.

  Dora looked down at the plate of greasy grey stew in front of her. ‘Sorry isn’t good enough.’

  ‘He couldn’t help it. He was a bit tipsy.’

  ‘A bit tipsy!’ Dora caught Sister Sutton’s sharp glance from the other end of the dining table, and lowered her voice. ‘He was pie-eyed!’

  ‘All the more reason why you should forgive him,’ Katie said through a mouthful of food. ‘He didn’t know what he was doing.’

  He knew what he was doing, all right, Dora thought. Two weeks after the ball, and she was still reliving what had happened that night. God only knew how far Joe would have gone if she hadn’t fought him off.

  But he was sorry for it now. The day after the ball he had turned up at the hospital gates to see her, but Mr Hopkins had turned him away at the Porters’ Lodge. Since then Joe had sent her notes and telephoned the nurses’ home so many times that Dora had started to jump every time she heard the jangle of the bell in the hall.

  And now he’d appealed to Katie for help.

  ‘I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.’ O’Hara shrugged. ‘All he did was get a bit fresh with you. All men try it on.’

  Dora felt herself blushing as several pairs of interested eyes turned in her direction.

  She put down her fork. ‘Look, I know Tom’s asked you to put in a good word for Joe, but you’re wasting your time. As far as I’m concerned, it’s over. So do
me a favour and stop discussing my private business in front of everyone!’

  Katie looked hurt. ‘You’ll regret it,’ she mumbled. ‘Joe Armstrong’s a good catch.’ Dora kept her head down and didn’t reply. ‘I’m only saying—’

  ‘Well, don’t,’ Millie cut in. ‘Could we talk about something else, please? I don’t know about you, but I’m finding this constant talk about Doyle’s love life rather tedious.’ She skewered a lump of gristle on the end of her fork and held it up for closer inspection. ‘Could someone tell me what this meat we’re eating is supposed to be?’

  ‘Beef,’ someone said.

  ‘Rabbit?’ suggested another.

  ‘One of old Latimer’s patients!’ someone else chimed in, and soon there was a lively debate around the table.

  Dora shot a quick, grateful look at Millie. She might seem a bit flighty at times, but she knew how to smooth ruffled feathers.

  ‘Which drugs or agents could be locally applied to check haemorrhage?’

  ‘Let’s see . . . there’s adrenalin, tannic acid, gallic acid, turpentine, hamamelis . . .’ Helen took the dripping flannel out of the bowl of iced water and wrung it out. ‘Cautery, of course, then heat, cold, and . . .’ she paused for a moment to think, then it came to her ‘. . . hydrogen peroxide,’ she finished. ‘There. How did I do?’

  ‘Word perfect, as usual.’ Charlie looked up admiringly from the textbook. ‘How do you remember all those complicated words?’

  ‘I’ve had three years of practice. And I study a lot.’

  ‘I’m surprised you have any time, what with working nights and spending all day with me. I hope you’re not wearing yourself out?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I want to be here.’

  ‘All the same, I’d hate to think I was keeping you from your revision . . .’

  ‘What do you think we’re doing now?’ Helen nodded towards the textbook. ‘Now hold still while I put this on for you.’

  He submitted meekly, lifting his chest for her to apply the cold compress to his swollen throat.

  She didn’t tell him about the telephone call she’d had with her mother the previous day. Constance had telephoned the nurses’ home because she had heard Charlie was unwell.

  At first Helen thought she might have called because she was worried about him. But Constance’s first words had soon dismissed that hope.

  ‘I trust you’re not neglecting your studies to spend time with him?’ Her voice was sharp with reproof. ‘May I remind you, Helen, you have your Finals coming up in October. I wouldn’t like to think of three years’ study going to waste because you have your mind on other things.’

  It had taken all Helen’s forbearance for her to make the right noises and assure her mother that she was glued to her books, when deep inside she felt a slow burn of resentment. Not once had Constance asked how Charlie was feeling.

  ‘Helen?’ She came back to the present to find him watching her. ‘You’re looking very serious all of a sudden. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She forced a smile and took away the compress. ‘There, how does that feel now?’

  ‘Better, thank you. But you really don’t have to nurse me, you know. My mum’s bad enough, flapping around like a headless hen!’

  ‘Oi! I heard that!’ Nellie Dawson bustled into the room carrying a fresh jug of water. ‘Any more lip from you, young man, and I’ll pack you off back to your bedroom.’

  ‘Don’t do that!’ Charlie groaned. ‘I don’t think I could stand looking at those four walls any longer!’

  Since he was no longer infectious, Nellie had moved her son down to sleep on the settee in the front parlour. At least he could feel part of the family again, although Helen knew he was restless to be up and about.

  ‘How is the patient?’ Nellie asked Helen.

  ‘He’s doing well,’ Helen replied. ‘His temperature is normal, and the swelling seems to be going down, doesn’t it?’

  His mother nodded. ‘And I’ve been using that antiseptic lotion for the rash, like you said.’

  ‘Will you two stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here?’ Charlie glared from one to the other. ‘I told you, I’m fine. Anyway, I’ve got to be up and about by August Bank Holiday, because I’ve got a surprise planned,’ he went on.

  Helen and Nellie looked at each other. ‘What kind of surprise?’ Helen asked.

  ‘We’re going on an outing.’ Charlie beamed at them both. ‘I’ve booked us all on the works charabanc to Southend. I thought Dad could mind the stall, and you could bring the kids, Mum. You deserve a treat, what with me being laid up and everything.’

  ‘Ooh, lovely! I haven’t had a trip to Southend in years.’ Nellie sighed with pleasure. ‘The kids will be pleased an’ all.’

  Charlie looked at Helen. ‘I reckoned you could do with a break, too. You’ve been working so hard lately. You’ll be able to come, won’t you?’

  Helen hesitated. Her mother would absolutely forbid it.

  ‘Try and stop me!’ she grinned.

  ‘That’s settled, then.’ Charlie looked pleased with himself. ‘Right, we’d best get back to work.’ He picked up the textbook. ‘We’ve got a lot to do, if you’re going to pass these exams.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  DORA HAD NEVER been to the ballet before. She had never wanted to go, either, but a theatre up west had sent a batch of free tickets to the hospital, and Katie O’Hara had badgered her into going.

  Not that Dora had seen much of the show. She was so tired that as soon as the lights dimmed she had sunk down in her seat and fallen asleep. She only meant to close her eyes for a moment to rest them, but the next thing she was waking up with a start to rapturous applause. Katie was on her feet and joining in so enthusiastically, Dora guessed she must have missed a wonderful show.

  ‘Wasn’t it grand?’ Katie sighed as they sat on the top desk of the bus, heading back to Bethnal Green.

  ‘Yes,’ Dora lied, turning her head to stare out of the window at the lights of the city.

  ‘Lane will be sorry she missed it. She’s always going to the ballet with her mother. I expect she’ll want to know all about it.’

  ‘I expect so.’

  Katie hesitated. ‘So . . . could you work out what was going on, exactly?’ she asked.

  Dora pretended to think. ‘Well . . . I know there was a lot of dancing,’ she invented. ‘People jumping about, kicking their legs in the air.’

  ‘And there was that man in the tights,’ Katie put in helpfully. ‘He was quite an eyeful, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He was indeed.’ Dora racked her brains for something to else to say, then gave up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘To be honest I nodded off as soon as the flaming thing started.’

  To her surprise, Katie laughed. ‘Me too! I was dead to the world from the minute the curtain went up.’

  Dora stared at her in astonishment. ‘But you were clapping?’

  ‘Only because everyone else was!’ They looked at each other and laughed. ‘But I still enjoyed it,’ Katie added. ‘It was the best sleep I’ve had in ages.’

  ‘Me too!’ Dora agreed. ‘Best not tell Lane that, though, eh?’

  ‘Oh, Jesus!’ Katie rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘She’s going to ask me all about it. She’s going to want to know every detail!’

  ‘You’ll have to make it up.’

  St Peter’s church clock was striking ten when they got off the bus on Hackney Road.

  ‘Gawd, we’re so late!’ Dora started to run but Katie didn’t move. She stood at the bus stop, looking around her.

  Dora turned back. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Katie glanced up and down the street. ‘It shouldn’t be long . . . ah, here he is now.’

  Dora heard a man’s footsteps striding up the street towards them. She didn’t need to look round to know who it was.

  She turned on Katie furiously. ‘You did this deliberately! No wonder you were so keen for me to come ou
t with you tonight.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but he begged me to do it.’ Katie’s face was full of anguish. ‘He was so upset when you wouldn’t talk to him . . .’

  ‘He’s upset? What about me?’ She quivered with rage, every nerve on alert as Joe approached.

  ‘Hello, Dora.’

  She turned slowly to look at him. He stood there in his police uniform, his head bent. He looked contrite, like a kicked puppy.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Katie said, but Dora stopped her.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t! You’re staying here with me, O’Hara.’

  Katie’s eyes flew to Joe. ‘But—’

  ‘I’m not being left alone with him.’

  Joe sighed impatiently. ‘You’ll be quite safe. I ain’t going to hurt you. All I want to do is apologise.’

  ‘At least hear him out,’ Katie pleaded. ‘You owe him that much.’

  ‘I don’t owe him anything!’ Dora thought about telling Katie what he had done, but she probably wouldn’t believe it. Joe Armstrong could do no wrong in her eyes.

  ‘Please, Dora?’ Joe begged. ‘Just five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.’

  She sighed. ‘If I listen to you that long, will you promise to leave me alone afterwards?’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘But I’m warning you, if you try anything—’

  ‘I won’t,’ he promised. He looked sick with nerves. Or perhaps he was just remembering that knee she’d delivered to his privates, Dora thought with grim amusement.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, after Katie had gone.

  ‘Don’t get any ideas. I only did it to stop you sending me notes and calling the nurses’ home. The Home Sister’s getting as fed up of it as I am.’ Dora confronted him. ‘It was a low trick, getting O’Hara to do your dirty work for you, though. You ought to know by now I don’t like being forced into anything.’

  He winced. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He lowered his gaze. ‘I feel so ashamed of the way I behaved that night. I’ve thought of nothing else since.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Dora muttered.

  She started to walk back towards the hospital, and Joe fell into step beside her.