Nightingales on Call Read online

  ‘Yes,’ Jess replied, frowning at the mention of her brother. After the way Cyril had betrayed her to Effie, she would have pushed him under the wretched van herself, given another chance.

  ‘I thought so. I told you, I never forget a face. And now you’ve come to Sister Sutton’s rescue.’ He smiled approvingly at her. He was a youngish man, with a kind face and a nice smile. ‘You’re quite the Florence Nightingale, aren’t you?’

  ‘I dunno about that, Doctor.’

  ‘Well, I’m most impressed with you.’ He leaned forward, lowering his voice. ‘Now, I should make the most of the peace and quiet, if I were you,’ he advised. ‘Because no doubt Sister Sutton will drive everyone so mad in the sick bay, they’ll send her straight back as soon as possible!’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  THE FOUNDER’S DAY Ball was held in Bethnal Green Town Hall.

  ‘Of course, it’s not really a ball at all. More of a glorified tea dance really,’ Hugo said to Effie as they climbed the broad marble staircase to the ballroom. ‘But hopefully we can liven things up a bit.’

  There it was again, that maddening smile. He’d been grinning like the Cheshire Cat ever since he’d come to collect her at the nurses’ home.

  ‘I know you’re up to something,’ Effie accused him. ‘What is it?’

  Hugo tapped the side of his nose. ‘All in good time, my angel. All in good time,’ he said.

  Everyone else seemed to be in on the joke. Hugo’s medical student friends couldn’t stop grinning, and even Hilda and Frances were looking pleased with themselves. Effie’s only consolation was that Frances’ dress looked as if she’d butchered it from an old curtain.

  Effie, on the other hand, was pleased with the dress she’d chosen, a simple pale blue column her mammy had made, finished off with some pearls she’d borrowed from Katie. It matched her eyes, and for once made Effie glad that she didn’t have her sister’s curves.

  ‘You look like an angel, darling,’ Hugo had said when he first saw her. ‘I hope you’re not too virtuous for me?’

  Hugo may have been rather dismissive about it, but the ballroom seemed very grand to Effie. The room was filled with people, voices, laughter, and the rich sound of the orchestra. Enormous chandeliers overhead showered diamonds of light over the marble and mirrored walls. Effie looked around, barely recognising the nurses and ward sisters in all their finery.

  ‘Let’s dance!’ She grabbed at Hugo’s hand, pulling him towards the floor. She knew once he got chatting to his cronies wild horses wouldn’t drag him away, and was determined to have at least one dance with him before the evening was over.

  Hugo smiled indulgently. ‘Anything to make you happy, my sweet,’ he said, following her on to the floor. The band started playing ‘Cheek to Cheek’, and Hugo pulled her into his arms.

  It was blissful, whirling around the floor, knowing she was dancing with the most handsome man in the room. Even if his eyes did seem to keep wandering elsewhere. Effie could feel him looking over her shoulder, his gaze moving around the ballroom, resting everywhere but on her.

  ‘Are you looking for someone?’ she asked finally.

  Hugo gave her another mysterious smile. ‘Just making plans.’

  ‘What kind of plans?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  They whirled past Anna Padgett and the rest of her set, sitting in a glum-faced line, sipping punch under the frosty eye of Miss Hanley. She was standing in for the Home Sister since Sister Sutton had been taken to the sick bay.

  ‘They look happy, don’t they?’ Hugo commented. ‘She’s a bit of a battleaxe, isn’t she, your Assistant Matron?’

  ‘I’ll say! She told me off yesterday because my skirt was an inch higher than it should be.’

  ‘She needs to loosen up and have a bit of fun.’ Hugo raised his eyebrows. ‘Maybe someone should get her a glass of punch?’ he suggested.

  ‘I don’t think she drinks,’ Effie replied. ‘Besides, I don’t suppose the punch is even alcoholic, knowing Matron.’

  Hugo smiled. ‘You never know!’

  Effie sent him a quizzical look. ‘Is that what you’re doing? Have you spiked the punch?’

  ‘We might have.’

  She giggled, pleased to be in on the joke at last. ‘In that case, I hope Miss Hanley does have a glass!’ she said.

  The music stopped, and Hugo released her immediately.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Effie asked, disappointed.

  ‘I just need a word with someone,’ Hugo called back over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.’

  Effie met her sister Katie as she was helping herself to a glass of Hugo’s alcoholic punch. Katie was with her boyfriend Tom, clinging to his arm as if she daren’t let him out of her sight.

  ‘Don’t touch that,’ Katie warned. ‘You don’t know what’s in it.’

  Effie stared at her. ‘How did you know it was spiked?’

  ‘Because it always is,’ Katie said. ‘The medical students do it every year.’

  ‘One glass won’t hurt.’ Effie went to fill her glass, but Katie took it away from her.

  ‘I mean it, Effie. Stick to lemonade.’

  ‘I have tried alcohol before, as you well know,’ Effie replied loftily. ‘Remember Da’s poteen?’

  ‘It’s not the alcohol I’m worried about,’ Katie said. ‘Last year they laced it with cascara. I can’t tell you the trouble that caused.’

  ‘Well, I know what they’re putting in it this year, because Hugo told me,’ Effie said, very pleased to know better than her sister for once.

  ‘I might have known he’d be involved.’ Katie looked around. ‘Where is he, anyway? Why isn’t he with you?’

  ‘We don’t have to stick to each other like glue,’ Effie muttered. ‘Not like some people,’ she added, shooting a look at her sister’s arm, tightly threaded through Tom’s.

  ‘Hugo Morgan is a troublemaker,’ Katie said. ‘I know all medical students are bad, but from what I hear he’s the worst. You should steer well clear of him.’

  Effie rolled her eyes. ‘One minute you’re complaining that he’s not with me, the next you’re saying I should keep away from him. I wish you’d make up your mind!’

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Katie leaned closer, peering at Effie’s throat. ‘Are they my pearls you’re wearing?’

  Lucy was on duty until nine on the night of the ball.

  ‘I’m sorry if that spoils your plans, Lane, but someone has to stay and look after the patients while everyone else is at that wretched ball,’ Sister Parry had said.

  ‘I don’t mind, Sister.’ It was a relief to have an excuse not to go. It was bad enough getting through each day knowing that everyone was whispering about her, without spending the evening being talked about too. At the end of her shift, all Lucy ever wanted to do was to slink off to her room and take refuge alone with her books.

  But she wasn’t alone this evening. Dora was sitting on her bed, her flannel nightgown tucked around her, lost in study.

  ‘Oh!’ Lucy stopped in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you’d be at the ball?’

  ‘Benedict has gone, but I didn’t feel like dancing,’ Dora said. ‘I thought I might as well catch up on some revision.’

  ‘Me too. But I can study in the sitting room since everyone is out. I’ll just fetch my books.’

  She started to cross the room but Dora said, ‘You might as well stay here. We could keep each other company.’

  Lucy paused, unsure what to do. She and Dora had never been in the room together for long without Millie there to keep the peace between them.

  Dora gave her a wry smile. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I promise I won’t bite. Besides, it’s your room, too. You’ve got as much right to be in here as I have.’

  Lucy changed out of her uniform and sat cross-legged on her bed, then opened up her physiology textbook. They both read for a while, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. Lucy shot a s
idelong look at Dora. Her head was bent over her book, red curls falling around her face.

  Lucy cleared her throat nervously. ‘We could help each other, if you like?’

  Dora looked up. ‘What, you and me? Work together?’ The look she gave Lucy made her wither inside.

  ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘We could test each other. And you know what they say, two heads are better than one.’

  ‘Depends whose heads they are, doesn’t it?’ Dora muttered. But just as Lucy was bracing herself for a crushing rejection, she added, ‘I suppose we could give it a try.’

  ‘Is there anything you’re particularly stuck on?’ Lucy asked.

  Dora bristled. ‘What makes you think I’m stuck on anything?’

  She looked so defensive, Lucy was taken aback. ‘I just thought there might be something you found difficult, that’s all?’

  ‘Because I’m not as clever as you, is that it?’

  Lucy sighed. ‘Perhaps it’s not such a good idea if we help each other after all.’

  She went back to her book, flicking over the pages. She had tried to be friendly, and Dora had bitten her head off. That was just typical of her.

  Perhaps you asked for it, a voice inside Lucy’s head whispered. How many times had she sneered at the other girl in class when she couldn’t remember something? And how often had she taken pleasure in pointing out her mistakes on the ward?

  ‘Fevers,’ Dora said.

  Lucy looked up. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I’m not very good on fevers.’ Dora sent her a wary glance from under her mop of curls. ‘You could test me on those, if you like?’

  Lucy smiled. ‘Right you are.’

  They went through them all, from Diphtheria to Rubella, Scarlet Fever to Enteric Fever. It was awkward at first, but gradually they forgot their reserve as they swapped symptoms, throwing questions at each other back and forth across the room.

  ‘You see?’ Lucy said, when Dora had successfully listed all the complications of Measles. ‘You remember it better than you think.’

  ‘It helped to go through it with someone.’ Dora glanced shyly at her room mate. ‘Who’d ever have thought we’d be studying together one day? Benedict would have a fit if she saw us!’

  Lucy smiled. ‘We’ve managed to go nearly half an hour without a single argument. That must be a record!’

  ‘I think we deserve a break, don’t you?’ Dora put down her book and fumbled under her mattress. She drew out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to Lucy.

  She glanced towards the door. ‘Are we allowed? You know Sister Sutton doesn’t like it.’

  ‘Sister Sutton’s not here, is she? And everyone else is at the ball, so I don’t suppose they’ll notice.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Lucy took a cigarette from the packet and Dora lit it for her.

  ‘Benedict and I usually stand on the bed and blow the smoke through the skylight. Look, I’ll show you.’

  Lucy held Dora’s cigarette while she climbed up on the bed and opened the window. Then she put out her hand and helped Lucy up. Together, they balanced precariously, blowing curls of smoke into the night sky.

  ‘Hard to believe we’ve nearly finished our training, ain’t it?’ Dora mused. ‘It feels like only yesterday I was unpacking my case in this room, wondering if I’d last a week. I was so nervous.’

  ‘Me too,’ Lucy said.

  Dora shot her a sideways look. ‘You?’ she laughed. ‘You were always so sure of yourself. I remember you in the dining room that first evening, showing off to everyone.’

  Lucy remembered it too. ‘I was just as terrified as everyone else,’ she admitted. ‘But my parents always taught me to put on a good face, whatever I might be feeling. Appearances are everything, they’ve always . . .’

  She stopped, realising what she was saying. She wished she’d never mentioned her parents, but now it was there between them, hanging in the air like one of Dora’s smoke rings.

  Lucy felt the weight of Dora’s silence, knew what she was going to ask before she said it. She would want to pry, to know all the nasty little details. She would probably want to gloat, too. God knows, Lucy wouldn’t blame her for it, after the way she’d treated her.

  She steeled herself, ready to retaliate, to tell Dora it was none of her business. But her question, when it finally came, caught Lucy unawares.

  ‘How are you?’ Dora asked quietly.

  ‘Shell-shocked.’ Lucy’s hand was shaking as she lifted the cigarette to her mouth. ‘It’s all happened so fast, I can’t really take it in.’ She blew a stream of smoke high into the air.

  ‘Have you heard anything from your father?’

  She shook her head. ‘We’ve no idea where he is, or even if he’s—’ Lucy pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to speak. She wouldn’t let herself show weakness, no matter how much Dora’s concern touched her. ‘It gets harder every day to believe that he’s still alive,’ she managed to say finally.

  Dora was silent for a moment. Lucy was grateful that she didn’t ask too much.

  ‘And how’s your mum taking it?’ she asked finally.

  Lucy sighed. ‘I’m not sure. I’m afraid we’ve had rather a falling out.’

  She hadn’t been to see her mother since their argument. Lucy pretended it was because she was busy on the ward, but the truth was she didn’t want to see Clarissa.

  Dora looked sideways at her. ‘What about?’

  Lucy wasn’t going to tell her, she had no intention of sharing her personal business with anyone, least of all her worst enemy. But there was something about the way Dora said it, the kind concern in her eyes, that made Lucy weaken.

  And so she told her. She spilled out everything: about how selfish her mother had been, how she had leaned on her husband too heavily, and now she was leaning on Lucy too.

  ‘It’s as if she doesn’t want to stand on her own two feet,’ Lucy complained.

  ‘I daresay she doesn’t know how, after all these years,’ Dora said.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Lucy sighed. ‘But all she does is whine and complain about how bad everything is. As if I didn’t know that! I’m doing my best to make everything less difficult for her, but she doesn’t help herself.’

  Dora considered it for a moment. ‘Even so, you shouldn’t fall out,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to stick together, now more than ever. You’ve only got each other.’

  ‘So Uncle Gordon – my godfather – keeps telling me, but we’re not used to sticking together.’ Lucy smiled sadly. Up until now, she hadn’t realised how far apart her family had stayed. They’d been more like three people living under the same roof.

  For some reason an image of Ernest Pennington came into her mind. His parents were like hers, showering him with expensive gifts when all he really wanted was their time and attention. The only way he could earn their approval was through excelling at music.

  Lucy was just the same, striving to be the best at everything. She’d always thought she liked to win, but all she had really wanted to win was her parents’ love.

  ‘You don’t know how lucky you are,’ she told Dora.

  She stared back in surprise. ‘Me?’

  ‘I’ve always envied you your family, being so close to each other.’

  ‘Like rats in a sewer?’ Dora’s brows rose ironically.

  Lucy felt the heat rising in her face, meeting the cool of the evening air through the skylight window. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. It was very unkind.’

  ‘You’ve said worse.’

  ‘I know.’

  They were silent for a while. Dora smoked her cigarette and contemplated the stars.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said finally, ‘not all families get on all the time. Not even mine.’

  Lucy shot her a glance. There was something on Dora’s mind, she could tell. She wondered if she dared to ask. But the harsh set of Dora’s mouth stopped her.

  They finished their cigarettes, stubbed them ou
t and threw them out of the skylight.

  ‘I suppose we’d better get back to our books,’ Lucy said reluctantly. The truth was, she was enjoying her chat with Dora.

  ‘Or we could go downstairs and play cards instead?’ Dora suggested.

  Lucy smiled. ‘Why not? I reckon we deserve a treat, what with everyone else being at the ball.’

  ‘Proper little pair of Cinderellas, ain’t we?’ Dora grinned. Her face seemed softer, almost pretty, with her curls hanging loose around it.

  Lucy smiled back at her. ‘I don’t think we’re missing anything, do you?’

  The first Effie knew something was wrong was when Anna Padgett was violently sick into a Grecian urn.

  ‘Looks like someone can’t hold their drink!’ Hugo remarked. He took a hip flask out of his pocket and offered it to Effie.

  ‘No, thanks.’ She watched as two of the other girls helped poor Anna off to the cloakroom. Her face was a strange greyish-green colour. ‘How much did you put in that punch?’ she asked.

  ‘Not how much, darling,’ Hugo replied. He and his student friends grinned at each other. They were all swigging from hip flasks, she noticed with a feeling of unease.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Putting alcohol in the punch is a bit old hat,’ Hugo explained.

  ‘Everyone expects it,’ his friend Andrew joined in.

  ‘So we thought we’d do something different to liven things up,’ Hugo finished.

  Effie’s mouth fell open. ‘Not cascara again?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Hugo shook his head. ‘Although I must admit, that was rather amusing last year.’ His mouth twitched.

  Sister Wren pushed past them, heading for the doors. She had the same greyish tinge as poor Anna Padgett.

  ‘Ever heard of antimony?’ Hugo asked. ‘Antimony potassium tartrate, to be precise.’

  Effie shook her head. ‘What is it?’

  ‘One of the most powerful emetics known to man,’ Andrew said.

  ‘Or medical student!’ Frances laughed.

  Effie stared around her. The band had stopped playing as people rushed from the dance floor, hands clamped over their mouths. Even the trumpeter was looking queasy, doubled up where he sat.