A Nightingale Christmas Promise Page 4

  Sadie had a feeling Miss Noonan would not be quite so easy to please. She had chosen a seat as far away from the Home Sister as she could get, but she could still sense her hawk-like gaze from the head of the table, just waiting to swoop on a scattered crumb or an awkwardly held teacup.

  Why had she come here? she wondered. This wasn’t where she belonged. She should be back at Barlow’s, sticking flowers on hats. It was all she was good for.

  Come on, Sadie girl, this ain’t like you. She forced herself to lift her chin as she sipped from her teacup. She had as much right to be here as any of these other girls. She had passed her Matriculation, same as them, even if she did have to go to night school to get it.

  And she had faced worse than Miss Noonan, too.

  ‘Would you like a cake, Sadie?’ She looked up sharply at the sound of her name. Anna Beck was holding out the plate to her, smiling. She was about to reply when Miss Noonan barked out,

  ‘You will address each other by your surnames, if you please!’

  ‘Yes, Sister. Sorry, Sister.’ Poor Anna looked so crestfallen, Sadie could have throttled Miss Noonan for shouting at her. Couldn’t the Home Sister see how the girl was struggling?

  Don’t get involved, she reminded herself. She had already broken that rule when she knocked on Anna Beck’s door. She had made up her mind to keep herself to herself, but how could she ignore the poor kid sobbing her heart out in the next room? In the end, Sadie had pretended to forget her hairpins just so she could make sure her neighbour was all right.

  At least she looked more cheerful now she had washed her face. But Sadie could still see the red rims around her eyes where she had been crying.

  She’s not your problem, Sadie reminded herself, looking away. If she can’t toughen up, that’s her look out, not yours.

  As they ate, Miss Noonan gave them all another lecture, this time about their daily timetable.

  ‘You will be called at quarter-past six in the morning,’ she intoned. ‘Breakfast and prayers will follow at seven, then from half-past seven there will be an hour’s housework …’ Sadie noticed several of the girls looking askance at each other. ‘After that, you will return to your room to change into a clean uniform, ready for your first lecture at half-past nine. Lunch is at half-past ten, followed by a cookery class, then you will have dinner at half-past one. After that you are off duty.‘

  There were a few sighs of relief from around the table, but Miss Noonan had not finished. ‘Tea is prompt at four o’clock, followed by a practical nursing class at five. After that, you will have time in the evening for writing out your notes and private study, until supper at eight-thirty, then prayers. You will return to your rooms by ten, and lights are to be out by ten-thirty. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ they all chorused. Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie caught the mutinous expression of the curly-haired girl at the other end of the table.

  ‘Your classes will vary each day,’ Miss Noonan went on. ‘You will find a full list on the timetable in the hall. You will be expected to arrive at each class promptly, and fully prepared. Each class will be conducted by Matron, the Assistant Matron Miss Swann, or Miss Pascoe the Sister Tutor. Your first lessons will be in basic nursing skills, followed by—’

  She was interrupted by a noisy clatter as the gawky girl beside Sadie dropped her teacup. They all watched in horror as a brown stain spread over the snowy white tablecloth.

  ‘I – I’m so sorry!’ The girl blundered to her feet, upsetting her bone china plate and sending it crashing to the floor.

  ‘You clumsy girl!’ Miss Noonan roared.

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ Sadie crouched down to pick up the fragments of shattered china, while the other girl towered over her, stammering apologies.

  ‘I – I couldn’t help it,’ she said. ‘It just sort of fell out of my hand …’

  ‘It was an accident,’ Sadie reassured her.

  ‘But your uniform …’

  Sadie looked down at herself. She hadn’t noticed until that moment that her starched dress was spattered with tea stains too.

  ‘Here, let me help.‘

  ‘It’s all right.’ Sadie ducked away as the other girl came at her, wielding a linen napkin in her fist, narrowly missing her jaw. ‘I daresay it’ll come out in the wash.’

  She glanced at Miss Noonan, who was watching them, tight-lipped with fury.

  Thankfully, they were dismissed shortly afterwards. Miss Noonan told them that as it was their first day there would be no classes, and they could go to the common room.

  ‘Thank you for your help,’ the tall girl whispered to Sadie as they left the dining room. ‘My mother’s always telling me off for being clumsy, but I can’t seem to help it.’

  ‘As I said, it was an accident.’ Sadie smiled back at her. ‘I’m Sadie, by the way. What’s your name?’

  The girl’s long, pale face flushed bright pink. ‘Grace,’ she mumbled.

  Sadie looked up at her, with her big hands and feet, and loose, flailing limbs, and felt a smile twitching the corners of her lips.

  Grace grinned back at her. ‘It’s all right, I don’t mind if you laugh. I’m used to it!’

  The common room overlooked the garden, with French windows leading out on to a paved terrace. Beyond it was a small square of lawn lined with neat flowerbeds, and a couple of apple trees at the far end.

  The room itself was shabby but comfortable, with a sofa, a chaise-longue and a couple of worn leather armchairs flanking the fireplace. There was a piano in one corner, and a bookshelf in the other.

  One of the girls, a sharp-featured little creature with thin brown hair and a beaky nose, headed over to peruse the books, while the others found seats for themselves.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I came here to get away from rules.’ The curly-haired girl flopped down on the sofa beside Sadie. ‘I wanted a bit of fun, and this is worse than school!’

  ‘Fun?’ An earnest-looking girl with brown hair stared back at her. Her name was Eleanor Copeland, and her room was on the same floor as Sadie’s. She had heard her moving in earlier, bumping her heavy trunk up the stairs behind her. ‘We’re here to learn, not to have fun.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ the curly girl muttered under her breath. ‘I’m Dulcie, by the way,’ she said to Sadie. ‘Dulcie Moore.’

  ‘And I’m Miriam Trott. But I want to be called Mimi from now on,’ announced the beaky girl from over by the bookshelves where she was still perusing the books.

  ‘My aunt had a poodle called Mimi,’ Dulcie said.

  ‘Mimi is the tragic heroine of Puccini’s opera, La Bohème,’ Miriam announced loftily.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who she is,’ Eleanor Copeland said. ‘Didn’t you hear what Miss Noonan said? We have to call each other by our surnames.’

  ‘I’m sure we can call each other whatever we want in private,’ Miriam muttered, looking mutinous.

  ‘Yes, but rules are rules,’ Eleanor replied.

  ‘And rules are made to be broken,’ Dulcie said. ‘I’m certainly not going to be tucked up in bed by half-past ten. I want to see the bright lights of London!’

  Eleanor pursed her lips. ‘My mother says only fast girls stay out late.’

  Dulcie giggled. ‘Fast? Chance would be a fine thing, with that old witch watching over us!’ She narrowed her eyes and tightened her mouth in a very good impression of Miss Noonan’s hawk-like features. Everyone laughed except for Eleanor, who looked disapproving.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to see any bright lights,’ Grace declared. ‘I think I shall be utterly terrified to set foot outside this hospital. Everything seems so big and noisy here. I got on the wrong bus coming from the station. I thought I’d be lost forever.’ She gazed longingly out of the window. ‘I shall miss looking out of my bedroom and seeing nothing but rolling fields.’

  ‘You can always have a stroll in Victoria Park,’ Sadie suggested.

  ‘And the local
dairy off Columbia Road keeps a few cows,’ Anna added.

  ‘Perhaps they’d let you milk them!’ Dulcie joked.

  ‘And I know of a family down near the river who keep a donkey and a couple of pigs,’ Sadie said.

  Grace looked hopeful. ‘Do they have a farm?’

  ‘No, they just keep them in their back yard. Mind you, they let them in the house when it gets too cold for them outside. In winter the kids and the pigs all sit round the fire together!’ Sadie laughed, until she looked round the room and saw the others all staring at her. She retreated quickly into silence, annoyed with herself for letting her guard down. The less she told these girls about where she came from, the better.

  ‘Why did you apply to come to London, if you wanted to stay in the country?’ Dulcie asked Grace.

  Grace lowered her gaze. ‘My mother said the Nightingale was the best hospital for nursing training. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, ever since I was a little girl. I took care of all the orphaned lambs on the farm, and the runt piglets. No one thought they would survive, but I nursed them back to life.’

  ‘I daresay nursing people will be a bit different from nursing piglets!’ Miriam scoffed.

  ‘I’ll tell you why I wanted to come here,’ Eleanor said, even though no one had asked her. She was solid and heavy-jawed, with straight brown hair that did nothing to soften the square lines of her face. ‘My brother Harry has joined up, and I thought it was only right that I did my bit too.’

  ‘My young man has enlisted too,’ Anna said. ‘But I’m hoping he won’t be called up.’

  ‘Harry is in the reserves, so he was taken straight away,’ Eleanor said. ‘I’m glad he’s gone. I’m proud he’s fighting for his country. I have no time for boys who don’t want to get into khaki.’

  ‘Listen to her,’ Dulcie whispered to Sadie. ‘She sounds like one of those daft women who go round handing out white feathers to all and sundry!’

  Eleanor’s broad face flushed. ‘Actually, my mother is one of the Order of the White Feather, and I see nothing wrong in it. It is every young man’s duty to serve his country. And every young woman’s, too,’ she added with feeling.

  Silence fell in the room as they all looked round at each other. Then Dulcie Moore said, ‘Well, I don’t know about doing my duty. All I want is to marry a doctor,’ she said.

  Everyone laughed. Dulcie looked back at them blankly. ‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘I’ve set my heart on marrying a handsome, rich young consultant. Preferably one with a practice in Harley Street, so I’ll never have to go and live in the country again. No offence,’ she said to Grace, ‘but I really can’t think of anything worse than being a farmer’s wife.’

  ‘My mother says I’ll be lucky to find anyone to marry me,’ Grace said mournfully.

  ‘How about you?’ Anna asked Sadie. ‘What made you decide to start nursing?’

  Sadie shrugged. ‘I had no choice. The hat factory where I was working closed down, and I had to find something else to do. And nursing seemed as good a job as any.’

  The others stared at her. Then Miriam said, ‘You were a – factory girl?’

  Sadie lifted her chin. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ She stared hard at Miriam until the other girl looked away.

  Then Grace accidentally knocked the coal scuttle over with a clatter. Sadie watched as they all rushed to help her. She had given away too much, she thought. It was all very well trying to be friendly, but she had to learn to play her cards closer to her chest in future.

  Chapter Four

  The first of the wounded soldiers arrived from France at the end of October. Anna and the other girls saw the stretchers being unloaded from the ambulances as they headed back to Porthleven House for dinner after their afternoon Invalid Cookery class in the main hospital block.

  They weren’t the only ones watching. A crowd had formed outside the grounds. They threw chocolate bars and cigarettes through the fence for the wounded men.

  ‘Look at them all,’ Grace Duffield said. ‘Anyone would think it was the Coronation all over again!’

  ‘It’s because they’re heroes,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘I wonder why they’ve started bringing them here?’ Anna said.

  ‘I daresay the military hospitals can’t cope with all the casualties,’ Sadie Sedgewick replied in her usual direct manner.

  ‘It makes it seem real, doesn’t it?’ Miriam Trott sighed. ‘I mean, you read about all those poor men in the papers, but when you actually see them –’

  Anna glanced at Eleanor. Her expression was stoical, as usual, but Anna could only imagine how worried she must be about her brother Harry. The newspapers were full of stories about how the British and French had been driven back in Ypres with so many thousands killed and injured.

  Once again, Anna breathed a sigh of relief that her Edward was not in danger. He was still in London, going for drill practice three times a week, intensely frustrated that he could not do more.

  ‘I wish I was fighting for my country and not just charging at sandbags in Victoria Park,’ he moaned to Anna. She tried to be sympathetic, but deep down she was relieved that he had not yet been called up. Seeing the stretchers being unloaded from the ambulances made her wonder how she would cope with the worry when it was Edward’s turn to go.

  But at least she knew if the time came she would have the other girls in her set to support her. They had only been training together for three weeks, but Anna already felt as if they were her second family.

  They were all in the same boat, so they kept each other going. If one of them was homesick, the others would rally round to cheer her up. If one of them had had a telling off from one of the Sister Tutors, the others would reassure her and dry her tears. They laughed together, and cried together. They practised dressings on each other, bandaging arms and heads and putting splints on legs. They took each other’s pulses and temperatures, and endlessly drilled each other on the various bones of the body and the Latin abbreviations doctors scrawled on patients’ notes.

  Eleanor was at the heart of their set. She was forever organising trips and days out for the girls. She was the one who got them together to study, and if one of them was feeling low, it was Eleanor who helped to cheer her up.

  And she had singled out Anna to be her best friend. Their rooms were on the same landing, and Eleanor was forever popping round to chat or revise. Anna was sure she would have missed her family a lot more if Eleanor had not been there to help her.

  Eleanor fell in beside Anna now as they trooped back to Porthleven House.

  ‘You haven’t forgotten about the Sewing Drive down at the Red Cross Centre this afternoon?’ she asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, went on, ‘We’re meeting downstairs after dinner. We can walk through the park together, as it’s a nice day.’

  Anna nodded. ‘I’ll be there. Are the other girls coming?’

  ‘All except Moore. She wants to go up West – again!’ Eleanor’s mouth tightened in disapproval.

  ‘Oh, well, I’m sure there’ll be more than enough of us anyway,’ Anna said.

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Eleanor frowned. ‘Mrs Jennings the District Organiser did say there’s a lot of work to be done …’

  ‘We’ll all have to sew twice as fast then, won’t we?’ Anna smiled. Poor Eleanor, she took her responsibilities so seriously. Within a week of starting at the Nightingale, she had managed to attach herself to all kinds of committees and fundraising organisations involved with the war effort. Now, if she wasn’t unravelling jumpers to re-knit into socks for soldiers, she was collecting money, organising raffles and making up food parcels.

  Her friend looked fretful. ‘I don’t want to let anyone down,’ she said. ‘Mother says our boys are relying on us to do our bit.’

  ‘You’re doing more than your fair share,’ Anna said. ‘You’ll wear yourself out.’

  ‘I’m doing it for Harry,’ Eleanor told her firmly. ‘And you’ll do the same for your Edward, when th
e time comes.’

  Anna was silent. She didn’t think she could ever be like Eleanor Copeland. She was a force of nature, a whirlwind that flattened everything in its path. Anna always felt weak and lazy beside her.

  When they arrived back at Porthleven House, Miss Noonan was waiting for them. They all jumped to attention automatically, and Anna prayed silently that the Home Sister wouldn’t notice the scuffed shoes that she hadn’t had time to polish that morning.

  But for once Miss Noonan did not single her out. Nor did she notice Grace Duffield, even though her cap was askew and the hem of her dress had come undone.

  ‘This note came for you, Sedgewick.’ She handed Sadie an envelope.

  ‘Thank you, Sister.’ Sadie took it from her, and slid it into her apron pocket.

  ‘I wonder what that’s about?’ Eleanor whispered to Anna as they followed her upstairs.

  ‘I don’t know. I hope it isn’t bad news?’

  ‘Strange she didn’t open it. Don’t you think that’s odd?’

  ‘Perhaps she already knew what it would say?’ Anna wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed the way Sadie’s face had paled when she saw the letter in Miss Noonan’s hand.

  ‘Well, I still think it’s strange,’ Eleanor said. ‘If someone sent me a note I’d jolly well want to read it straight away.’

  As they passed Sadie’s room, the door was open. She was standing by her bed, reading. Anna would have passed by, but Eleanor stopped and said, ‘Is everything all right?’

  Sadie looked up, startled. ‘What?’

  ‘The note?’

  ‘Oh. No, it’s nothing.’ Sadie crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and shoved it in her pocket.

  ‘So you’re still coming to the Red Cross Centre this afternoon, I hope? The Sewing Drive?’ Eleanor prompted when Sadie looked blank.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t.’ She tore off her cap, scattering pins. ‘That note – was from a sick friend. I have to go and visit her.’