A Nightingale Christmas Wish (18 page)

She went back to the Casualty hall and left instructions for Penny Willard and the students in her absence, then returned to the sisters’ home. On the way, she left a quick note at the Porters’ Lodge to explain to Christopher why she couldn’t meet him.

You’re a coward, Helen Dawson
. The thought ran through her mind as she sealed up the envelope. There was nothing to stop her going to see Christopher and telling him face-to-face. Nothing except her own fear that if she saw him again she might realise she was making another terrible mistake.

On the evening of New Year’s Eve, David McKay went to visit his sister Clare and her family in Middlesex. Much as he loved his elder sister and her children, it wasn’t a visit he generally looked forward to.

They made a strained group as they sat around the dinner table. His niece and nephew sat at the far end, heads down, eating in silence.

‘You two are very quiet.’ David smiled at them.

‘We don’t encourage talking at the table,’ their father Graham said sternly.

David ignored him. ‘How are you getting on at school?’ he asked his nephew. ‘Still mad on sport, are you? I remember you were keen to get into the cricket team?’

Philip, eight years old and the younger of the two, turned large, fearful eyes to his sister. She shook her head at him.

‘How about you, Beth?’ David turned to her. ‘How are your studies going? Do you still want to be a doctor when you grow up?’

‘You may leave the table, if you’ve finished,’ their father cut across him brusquely. ‘Go and get ready for bed, then you can come back down and say goodnight. Quietly, please,’ he added.

They slipped off their chairs and hurried out, eager to escape. David listened to their footsteps scuttling up the stairs and their voices, whispering to each other.

He turned to his brother-in-law, seated like a king at the head of the table, stern-faced. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to them properly.’

‘I told you, I don’t allow talking at the table.’ Graham gave him a small, tight smile. ‘Really, David, I don’t appreciate your encouraging my children to break the rules.’

‘They’re hardly running amok,’ he pointed out.

‘Nevertheless, they are my rules,’ Graham stated firmly.

David glared at him in dislike. There had never been any love lost between the two men. Graham was a schoolmaster, fifty years old and once handsome but now running to seed. His body was soft and paunchy, face falling into jowls either side of his mean little mouth.

David glanced at Clare, picking at her food. He scarcely recognised his beautiful, vivacious sister any more. Twenty years of marriage to a miserable older man had turned her into a nervous wreck.

Graham dabbed his lips with his napkin and leaned back in his seat. ‘Anyway, I expect you will have a chance to run riot with them while I’m out,’ he said.

Clare glanced up at him. ‘You’re going out?’

‘Didn’t I tell you? My friend Roger telephoned me this morning. You remember Roger, don’t you? We were at college together. He’s in town for the evening, and wants us to meet for a drink.’

David looked at Clare. Her gaze still fixed on her plate, she said timidly, ‘But I’d hoped we might all spend the evening together, as it’s New Year’s Eve?’

‘Yes, but I’ve made other plans.’ There was a hard edge to Graham’s voice that David didn’t like. ‘Besides, you’ve got your brother to keep you company, haven’t you?’

David caught sight of his sister’s disappointed expression. ‘I have an idea,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you two go and meet your friend together? I could look after the children.’

‘I’m sure Clare doesn’t want to spend the evening listening to my friend and me reminiscing about the old days!’ Graham gave a forced laugh, but his eyes glittered with anger.

‘Nonsense, a night out would do her the world of good.’ David turned to his sister. ‘What do you think, Clare?’

‘Well, Clare?’ Graham’s voice had a hard edge to it. ‘Answer your brother.’

Clare hesitated a fraction too long for David’s liking. ‘Graham’s right,’ she murmured finally.

‘You see?’ he said. ‘Really, David, as if we would be so ill-mannered as to invite you for dinner and leave you to mind the children while we go out!’

David started to reply, but saw his sister’s warning look and said nothing.

Half an hour later Graham had left. As soon as he’d gone out, it was as if a heavy cloud had lifted. Beth and Philip came back downstairs, freshly scrubbed, in their nightclothes and slippers. David noticed the way they looked around anxiously before they came in, as if to satisfy themselves that their father was really gone, before they allowed themselves to relax.

Clare seemed more at ease, too. ‘Have you washed properly?’ she asked the children, putting her arms around them.

‘Yes, Mother.’

David turned to Beth and said, ‘Are you sure you’ve washed behind your ears?’

A solemn twelve-year-old with dark hair fastened in tight plaits, she frowned at him. ‘Yes, Uncle.’

‘I don’t think you have. Look.’ He reached up towards her ear and produced a farthing between his fingers. ‘You see?’ he said, handing it to her.

Beth and Philip both stared at the coin, then at each other.

‘Your turn, Philip.’ David reached forward, fingers brushing the little boy’s silky dark hair. ‘Well, I never,’ he declared, as he produced a penny. ‘Look at that.’

Philip grinned sheepishly and scratched his ear. ‘Do it again!’ he said.

‘Well, I’m not sure . . .’ David grinned. ‘Oh, all right, then. If you insist.’

By the time he’d emptied his pockets of all his change, both children were giggling. Then he played horses with them, going around the floor on all fours while they took turns to jump all over him, until their mother declared, ‘That’s enough! You’ve worn your poor uncle out!’

‘I don’t mind,’ David said, collapsing under the weight as both children hurled themselves on top of him.

‘All the same, it’s time for bed.’

The children protested. ‘Oh, Mummy, can’t we stay up until midnight, just this once?’

David looked appealingly at her. ‘Go on, Clare. It is New Year’s Eve, after all.’

She shook her head. ‘Can you imagine if your father were to come home and find you still up?’

The children sobered immediately, shocked to their senses. They jumped off David’s back and stood to attention, as if Clare had somehow summoned the spectre of their father into the room.

‘Get up to bed,’ she said, more gently. ‘I’ll come and tuck you in.’

‘Can Uncle David do it?’ Philip pleaded.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘If you insist.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Clare said, as they listened to the children hurrying back up the stairs, chattering loudly this time.

‘I don’t mind at all. You know I love spending time with them.’

‘You’re very good with them. That’s the first time I’ve heard them laugh in a long time.’

‘I’m not surprised. They’re like different children when their father isn’t here.’

‘I know,’ Clare said quietly. She went over to the drinks cabinet and poured them both a brandy. ‘Graham can’t help it, you know,’ she said. ‘It’s just his way, that’s all. He was nearly forty when Beth was born, he’s bound to be set in his ways . . .’

‘Stop making excuses for him,’ David cut her off. ‘He’s a monster. He treats you and the children appallingly.’

Clare was shocked. ‘Don’t say that,’ she begged. ‘Graham is a good man.’

‘Is that why he’s gone off to spend the evening with his mistress?’

He saw his sister wince, and immediately regretted speaking so bluntly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. But you know as well as I do that’s where he is.’

He had been shocked and outraged when Clare first confided in him that her husband had another woman. David had immediately wanted to confront Graham, but his sister had begged him not to say anything. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to stay silent, let alone be civil.

‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘But I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Why not? I can’t understand how you can ignore it, go on pretending it’s not happening.’

‘Because it’s easier that way.’ Clare looked at him, defeat in her eyes. ‘If I say something, it would only start another fight. It might even push him further away from me. And then what would I do?’

‘You could always leave him?’

‘And where would I go? A woman on her own with two children. How would I support them?’

‘I’d look after you, you know that.’

She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’

‘You’re not asking me. I’m offering.’ He leaned forward. ‘I want to help you, Clare. I could set you up with a place to live. I could look after you.’

‘What about the children? They need their father.’

‘They don’t need a father who makes their lives a misery, and you don’t need a husband who treats you badly either. Please, Clare? I can’t bear to see you in this state.’

She stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace. ‘You don’t understand. I know my marriage isn’t perfect. But I made my vows, and I need to abide by them.’

David stared at her in frustration. They’d had the same conversation many times, and it always ended the same way. Clare would never leave Graham, no matter how badly he treated her. She still clung to the idea that marriage was for life. She refused to admit that she’d made a mistake in marrying him.

And he understood why, too.

‘If we’d inherited Father’s house in his will you would be free,’ he said. ‘You would have enough money to be independent.’

‘Yes, well, that didn’t happen, did it?’

‘No, it didn’t,’ he said bitterly. ‘Instead you’re married to a monster, and our wicked stepmother living in our house. She’s got exactly what she wanted, hasn’t she?’

Clare sighed. ‘There’s no point in getting upset about it, David.’

‘I can’t help it. She made all our lives a misery. If it hadn’t been for her, you would never have run off and married Graham.’

‘That’s not true. I didn’t have to marry him.’ Clare refilled her brother’s glass. ‘I know you don’t care for him, and I realise he can be difficult. But he’s good to us in his own way. And if I hadn’t married him, I would never have had the children. So I have to be thankful for that, don’t I?’

David gazed into his sister’s face. ‘I wish I had your optimistic nature.’

‘Uncle David!’ The children’s voices drifted down from upstairs before he could say any more.

He left just after midnight. He hugged his sister fiercely and wished her a happy New Year. He also pressed a £10 note into her hand.

‘I can’t take this!’ She tried to give it back, but David insisted.

‘Treat yourself to something nice,’ he urged. ‘I just wish I could do more.’

‘I know – and thank you.’ She gave him a brave smile.

‘I mean, it, Clare. Any time you decide you want to leave, just let me know.’

He couldn’t stop thinking about her all the way home in the taxi. Whatever she said, he knew the real reason she had married Graham was to escape from their unhappy home, and their stepmother. She had made everyone’s lives such a misery that Clare had run off and married the first man who’d showed her any kind of affection. She had sought solace in marriage and creating a family of her own . . . much good it had done her. David had sought his own comfort by avoiding making any kind of commitment altogether.

He returned to the doctors’ house. The home for lonely bachelors, as Jonathan mockingly called it these days. As if he hadn’t been grateful enough for it for so many years!

But it did feel like a different place to David since his old friend had left. One by one, David had seen his fellow doctors get married and move out, to be replaced by other eager young housemen. Even though he was only thirty-five, David had begun to feel out of place surrounded by so many young men.

Even so, it didn’t bother him. He would rather grow into a crusty old bachelor like Mr Hobbs than settle for the compromise his sister’s marriage had been.

A sudden image of Helen Dawson came unbidden to his mind, sitting on a bench in the snow, crying over a dead child. He’d understood her pain, so of course he’d had to comfort her. He ruthlessly pushed from his mind the thought that there might be anything more to it than that.

IT WAS JUST
as well they’d decided to keep the Casualty department open, Helen reflected as she closed the doors on the last patient just after eleven o’clock. Even though she and Dr Ross had mainly been dressing wounds and consoling tearful drunks, they had also dealt with an elderly man with a cardiac arrest and a young mother who’d gone into premature labour during a family party. In both cases, being admitted to hospital quickly had saved them.

But now the night and the year were almost over, and for the next eight or nine hours the department was only open to admissions by ambulance.

‘And hopefully we won’t have too many of those this evening,’ Dr Ross had said as he dragged himself off to sleep in the consulting room. ‘Good night, Sister.’

‘Good night, Doctor. And Happy New Year to you.’

‘What? Oh, yes, of course,’ he yawned, shrugging off his white coat. ‘See you in nineteen thirty-nine.’

And so Helen was seeing in the New Year alone. As she pulled the bolt across the double doors, she thought wistfully of the merry evening she could have been spending in Trafalgar Square with Christopher, if only she hadn’t been so cautious. Though she knew it wouldn’t have been a good idea, she still couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to kick up her heels and have fun, just for one reckless night.

She was turning down the lamps in the Casualty hall when she heard a sharp rap on the doors.

‘We’re closed,’ she called out. ‘Emergencies only.’

‘This is an emergency,’ a muffled voice called out from the other side.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Helen sighed as she crossed the hall to unbolt the doors. If this was another drunk looking for a bed for the night, she would not be amused. She had only just finished scrubbing the floor with Lysol after the last one.

‘I told you, it’s emergencies only . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she saw Christopher standing there, a bottle of brandy in his hand. Flakes of snow sparkled in his hair. ‘What are you doing here?’