The Nightingale Sisters Read online

  Georgina Farsley was an American heiress who had made a play for Seb the previous year. The fact that he wasn’t remotely interested in her hadn’t stopped her blaming Millie for the failure of her quest. She had nursed a grudge ever since.

  But it was the thought of Jumbo Jameson that really made Millie’s heart sink. The Earl of Haworth’s son was rich, handsome, and a conceited buffoon. He was also one of the reasons Millie had hated the Season so much. She had spent two thoroughly miserable months listening to the likes of Jumbo and his boorish friends showing off around her. The thought of having to spend any more time in his company made her feel quite ill.

  The shooting party returned shortly before luncheon. Seb’s mother Caroline, Duchess of Claremont, managed to look frighteningly regal even in her rough tweeds. The duke greeted Millie warmly. A little too warmly, for her liking; he might be her future father-in-law, but he was also a notorious old womaniser with a known weakness for blondes.

  Lord and Lady Carnforth were a quiet, timid couple, unlike their ambitious daughter Lucinda who came in clinging proprietorially to the arm of Seb’s older brother Richard, like a duchess in waiting.

  And then there were Jumbo and Georgina. They made a handsome couple, both sleek, dark and exuding glamour.

  Millie cringed as Jumbo’s gaze fell on her. Just one smirking look from him was enough to send her back in time to the Grosvenor House Ball, standing in the corner with an empty dance card.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t Florence Nightingale!’ he greeted her.

  Millie forced a smile at his tired old joke, for the sake of politeness. ‘Hello, Jumbo. Georgina.’ She nodded towards Miss Farsley. She was very beautiful, in a brittle kind of way. Her eyes had the cold sheen of polished jet; her painted lips were an uncompromising slash of crimson against her white skin. She was as thin as a whip in mannish trousers and a fitted tweed coat.

  ‘Seb,’ she drawled, her American accent even more pronounced since Wallis Simpson and her friends had made it fashionable. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’ She moved in to kiss his cheek, ignoring Millie completely. ‘Are you staying all weekend?’

  ‘We’re going back to London tomorrow, I’m afraid. Millie has to report for duty on Monday.’

  ‘Report for duty, eh?’ Jumbo said, his eyebrows lifting. ‘I suppose those bedpans won’t empty themselves, will they?’

  ‘We do more than just empty bedpans,’ Millie said patiently.

  ‘Oh, yes? Don’t tell me they’ve let you loose on urinals as well?’ He guffawed at his own joke.

  ‘Actually, we save lives.’

  She regretted it as soon as the words were out. Jumbo bellowed with laughter. ‘Save lives?’ he roared, as all heads turned their way. ‘Ye Gods, I’m not sure I’d want you to save mine.’

  ‘I’m not sure I would either,’ Millie replied primly.

  Seb snorted into his glass, but Jumbo was too busy chortling at his own wit to notice.

  ‘From what I remember, you’re a bit too accident-prone. I wouldn’t fancy putting my life in your hands at all. Do you remember that time at the Wiltons’, when you knocked a bottle of champagne over the Bishop?’ He looked around, seeking out his audience. ‘Tipped it all over him, she did – poor man was utterly soaked.’

  ‘How awful,’ Georgina smirked. Millie felt a tide of scalding colour rising up from the neckline of her dress.

  ‘That was a long time ago,’ she muttered.

  ‘And then, just to make matters worse, she tried to make a dignified exit, slipped on the spilt champagne and skidded the length of the ballroom!’ Jumbo went on, ignoring her. ‘God, it was funny.’

  He roared with laughter, and the others joined in appreciatively – especially Georgina. Even Seb was smiling, Millie noticed, shooting him a glare.

  It started to rain during luncheon so they spent the rest of the afternoon indoors, playing games and listening to music. Millie left the others enacting a lively game of charades in the drawing room and retreated to the library to tackle a jigsaw.

  It was a blessed relief to sit somewhere quiet, with nothing but the sombre ticking of the grandfather clock to keep her company.

  She was still puzzling over the pieces when Seb found her.

  ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come and join us?’

  ‘And listen to Jumbo all afternoon? No, thank you. He gives me a headache.’

  ‘He’s harmless. Just ignore him.’

  ‘It’s all right for you. You’re not the butt of his incessant jokes.’

  The sound of Lucinda Carnforth shrieking with laughter from down the hallway jangled Millie’s nerves.

  ‘Listen to them,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine anything more tedious than having to listen to that all day.’

  ‘You used to enjoy it,’ Seb reminded her. ‘I remember a time when you would have been in there with them, joining in.’

  He was right, thought Millie. Once upon a time she would have been taking centre stage, falling about as she tried to act out some impossible phrase. Now she found herself checking the time, and wondering if the consultant had finished his round on Hyde ward, and whether Mrs Mortimer had made any other nurses cry that morning.

  She gave up trying to wedge in a fragment of sky where it didn’t belong. ‘Wretched thing. Why won’t it go in?’

  ‘Here, let me try.’ Seb came round to her side of the table to study the puzzle. ‘I know Jumbo can be a nuisance at times, Mil, but he’s a good friend of mine. I do wish you’d make an effort. Here.’ He took the puzzle piece from her and tried it in a few places, then gave up. ‘It doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere, does it?’

  I know how it feels, Millie thought. She so wished she could fit in with Seb’s friends, for his sake.

  So for Seb’s sake, she did make an effort. She gritted her teeth and tried very hard not to let Jumbo irritate her for the rest of the afternoon. She even gave up on the jigsaw and joined the others, watching Jumbo teaching Georgina to play chess. He was a terrible, impatient teacher, but Georgina was an even worse pupil; several times she allowed Jumbo to capture her pieces, even though it was obvious even to Millie what her next move should have been.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered to Seb when Georgina conceded yet another game, laughing at her own foolishness. ‘She could have won easily.’

  ‘Perhaps she has a bigger prize in mind?’ he suggested.

  Millie scowled. Georgina Farsley might not be the nicest person she knew, but she certainly wasn’t stupid. Millie couldn’t imagine why she would want to win over a pompous dullard like Jumbo Jameson.

  She managed to keep her feelings to herself right through dinner. She bit her tongue as Jumbo bragged about how he had flown to Munich with his parents to visit Herr Hitler, and what a charming host he had been.

  ‘He isn’t interested in going to war with us,’ he reassured everyone with a wave of his wine glass. ‘On the contrary, he utterly respects Great Britain. He only wants what rightfully belongs to Germany.’

  She also resisted the urge to tell him he was talking tosh when he enthused about what a ‘breath of fresh air’ the Prince of Wales would be as King – even though she could see from the thunderous expressions of Seb’s father and Lord Carnforth that they found it distasteful to discuss the matter when the old King wasn’t even dead yet.

  The duchess, ever the perfect hostess, skilfully steered the conversation away.

  ‘Did Sophia tell you, she and David are moving into their new London house next week?’ she addressed Lady Carnforth.

  ‘Really?’ Lady Carnforth said. ‘I’m surprised you would want the upheaval in your condition, Sophia.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ the duchess sighed. ‘But you know what girls are like these days, Eleanor. They simply won’t listen to reason. They have to have their own way in everything, don’t they?’

  She eyed Millie down the length of the table when she said it. Millie wondered if she was as irritated as her grand-moth
er at having to wait for the wedding.

  ‘Honestly, Mother, there’s no need to fuss,’ Sophia said airily. ‘This baby will arrive whether I’m sitting here staring out of the window, or in Smith Square hanging curtains in the nursery.’

  ‘Good gracious!’ Her mother stared at her, wide-eyed with horror. ‘I hope you’re not considering hanging curtains, Sophia?’

  ‘No, Mother, of course not,’ she sighed. ‘But I am thinking of having a housewarming party,’ she added, smiling around the table.

  ‘Surely not?’ The duchess turned to her son-in-law. ‘David, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea?’

  He gave a shrug. ‘If it’s what Sophia wants.’ He gazed adoringly at his wife across the table.

  ‘Quite right,’ the duke guffawed. ‘Let the fillies have their head, eh? It’s the only way to keep them quiet.’

  The duchess pressed her lips together. ‘But are you sure a housewarming party is a good idea, darling?’ she asked her daughter.

  ‘Mother, I’ll be fine. Ask Millie, she’ll tell you.’ Sophia turned to her. ‘Tell her, Millie. Being pregnant isn’t like being ill, is it?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘What would Amelia know?’ the duchess cut her off impatiently. ‘She’s not a doctor, is she?’

  ‘No, but she does save lives, remember?’ Jumbo put in. Millie stared at him. If he mentions bedpans again, I will empty this sauce boat over his head, she thought, her fingers twitching towards it.

  ‘I know you think what I do is very amusing, Jumbo, but at least it is useful,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘The most purposeful thing you do is order a cocktail at White’s!’

  An embarrassed hush followed her outburst. Out of the corner of her eye, Millie caught Seb’s frown of disapproval.

  ‘I say,’ Lucinda Carnforth broke the tense silence with a loud whisper. ‘I don’t know if I should mention this but . . . there’s something moving in your hair.’

  They drove back to London that night. The duchess had made a great show of insisting they should stay the night as planned, but she couldn’t hide her relief when Millie declined the invitation.

  ‘I quite understand, under the circumstances,’ she’d whispered.

  Millie slumped back in the passenger seat, silent with shame, her hat pulled down low over her ears.

  Seb glanced sideways at her. ‘You can take it off, if you like?’ he suggested. ‘I’m sure I won’t catch anything.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Millie shuddered. ‘I don’t even want to think about it. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.’

  She could never face them again, she was certain of that. In fact, she probably wouldn’t be able to face anyone again. She could just imagine the gossip that would already be circulating in the country homes and London houses.

  ‘Did you hear about Rettingham’s daughter? Turned up to the Claremonts’ with head lice. Yes, head lice. Can you believe it? Quite extraordinary.’

  It would only be a matter of time before news reached her grandmother’s ears, and then all hell would break loose.

  ‘It wasn’t that bad,’ Seb said. ‘I think some people found it quite amusing—’

  ‘Like your friend Jumbo, you mean?’ Millie snapped. The sound of his braying laughter would haunt her nightmares for ever. ‘Oh, yes, he loved it, didn’t he? He thought it was an absolute hoot.’

  ‘You have to admit, Mil, it was quite funny. The look on Georgina’s face—’ He caught her grim expression and stopped smiling. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s not the end of the world, is it?’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Millie stared bleakly ahead of her. ‘I expect your mother will want you to call off the engagement.’

  ‘Of course she won’t.’

  ‘Seb, she couldn’t get me out of the door fast enough! She’s probably having my room fumigated and all the bedding burnt as we speak. I’m surprised she didn’t try to throw me on the bonfire, too.’

  They drove in silence for a while. Then he said, ‘Look on the bright side. At least if you’re shunned by polite society, you won’t have to see Jumbo Jameson again.’

  Millie ventured a cautious look at him from under the pulled-down brim of her hat. He grinned back at her, his blue eyes crinkling.

  ‘Stop it,’ she said, her mouth twitching. ‘I’m trying to be mortified.’

  ‘Can I help it if my smile is infectious?’

  Millie tugged at the brim of her hat. ‘Please don’t say that word!’ she begged.

  Chapter Ten

  IT WAS VISITING day on Wren ward. The first in line outside the doors was Jennie’s brother Joe.

  ‘You see? I told you he’d be here,’ Dora said as she straightened the girl’s bedclothes. She had been moved on to the main ward. ‘And you’ve been worrying all week that he wouldn’t come.’

  Jennie’s eyes flicked anxiously towards the doors. She had been recovering well, but seeing her brother had drained away what little colour there was in her face. ‘I don’t think I can face him. He’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done, I know he won’t.’

  ‘He’s here, isn’t he?’ Dora turned down the sheet to the regulation eighteen inches. She didn’t even need to measure it now, she could judge it by eye.

  ‘He’s probably come to tell me they don’t want me home.’ Jennie’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  ‘Do you think he’d have brought flowers if he was going to tell you that?’ Dora tweaked the cover into place. ‘Just hear him out before you start getting upset, all right?’

  ‘Don’t leave me,’ Jennie begged as Sister Wren finally opened the doors and the visitors began to stream in.

  ‘I can’t stay here, I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘But what if he gets angry with me? What if he loses his temper?’

  Dora squeezed Jennie’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’ She glanced round, smiling, as Joe arrived at the bedside. He looked ill at ease in his best suit, clutching a bunch of flowers.

  ‘Hello, Mr Armstrong.’ She smiled at him while his sister stared dumbly down at her hands.

  ‘Nurse,’ he nodded, his eyes fixed on Jennie. ‘All right, Jen?’ He looked as nervous as his sister.

  ‘What lovely flowers. I’ll put them in water, shall I?’ Neither of them replied. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ Dora went on, taking the flowers from him. ‘I’ll be coming round with the tea trolley later. Perhaps you’d like a cup?’

  Dora went off to get on with the list of jobs Sister Wren had given her to do. While she worked, she kept glancing over at them. Joe was sitting beside Jennie’s bed. At least they seemed to be talking to each other.

  She hoped he wouldn’t be too hard on his sister. Dora had grown to know and like Jennie Armstrong in the week she’d been nursing her. She was seventeen years old, but very young and naïve for her age. Dora got the impression that she didn’t have much of a life, working long hours at a textile factory as well as looking after her father and brother since her mother died. She was just the type to end up getting into trouble. A frightened little girl who was easily led astray and didn’t know any better.

  Not that she ever talked about her baby’s father. The only time Dora had mentioned him, a blank look had come into Jennie’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ was all she would say.

  When Dora went round with the tea trolley later, Jenny and Joe were still talking. Her face was puffy with tears, but from the way she gripped her brother’s hand, Dora guessed it wasn’t he who had caused them.

  ‘Doyle, why do you keep making eyes at that young man?’ Sister Wren’s shrill voice interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘I – I don’t, Sister.’

  ‘Don’t argue with me, I’ve been watching you.’ She stood in front of the trolley, blocking the way. ‘Keep your mind on your work, please. If I catch you looking at him again, I’ll have to teach you a lesson with a col
d bath punishment.’

  ‘If you ask me, she’s the one who needs the cold bath punishment,’ Katie O’Hara whispered as Dora passed her on her way to the kitchen. ‘Have you seen the way she’s been looking at Mrs Venables’ son? She can’t take her eyes off him.’

  ‘What’s a cold bath punishment when it’s at home?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard of it before? Sister’s always handing it out to nurses she thinks are man-mad. You have to get up at the crack of dawn and report to Night Sister for an ice cold bath. And I mean ice cold. Even colder than the baths at the nurses’ home after the seniors have been at the hot water! Mind you,’ she added, ‘I think that one might be worth risking a cold bath for, don’t you?’ She nodded towards Joe Armstrong.

  ‘You think any man is worth risking a cold bath for!’ Dora laughed. Plump, pretty Katie O’Hara had come over from a small village in Ireland to be a student at the Nightingale like her elder sisters. She was making the most of being in the big city, away from her mammy.

  Visiting time finished, and the usual routine of beds and backs, changing dressings and handing out bedpans, began. But first they had to search all the patients’ lockers, confiscating anything that might go mouldy. Any food that could be used went into the ward larder for safekeeping, or to be shared among the rest of the patients.

  Sister Wren stood at the larder, greedily eyeing the food as it came in. She was particularly impressed with a jar of home-made jam Mrs Venables’ son had brought in, a gift from her sister.

  ‘The patients can have that with their breakfast,’ she announced.

  ‘And she can have it with her tea and toast while she’s putting her feet up this afternoon!’ Katie grinned to Dora as she handed over a box of eggs she’d found.

  Jennie Armstrong seemed a lot more cheerful when Dora went to treat her back for bedsores.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked, as she carefully washed and dried Jennie’s shoulders and hips. She was so thin, Dora could trace all the knobbly bones of her spine under her skin.

  ‘It was all right. He was upset, but he wasn’t angry. And he’s told Dad I got rushed into hospital with appendicitis, so he’s none the wiser.’ She sounded relieved. ‘I’m glad about that, at least. I don’t want him finding out what happened.’