A Nightingale Christmas Wish (23 page)

At twelve Nurse Lund summoned Effie to take Mr Webster his lunch, which had been sent up from the kitchen.

‘You’ll need to feed him, of course,’ she said as she led the way down the short passageway of private rooms set aside for patients who were particularly poorly or who had paid for private care. ‘He’s still very weak and can’t do much for himself at the moment, but his improvement is remarkable when you think he was barely conscious a few weeks ago. He’s a very determined young man, as you’ll find,’ she said.

‘Can he do anything for himself, Staff?’ Effie asked.

‘Not very much at the moment. He’s having to relearn everything from scratch, so it’s bound to take time. His speech is coming on very well, but you’ll need to be very patient with him.’ She nodded towards the tray Effie was carrying. ‘You’ve fed a patient before, I take it?’ Effie nodded. ‘That’s good. Remember, always treat him with dignity and respect. He may be helpless but he isn’t a child.’ She smiled. ‘Although I daresay he’ll remind you of that soon enough, if you go too far.’

‘His mind is quite sharp, then?’

Mary Lund smiled. ‘Sharper than yours, I daresay. Although he gets confused sometimes and his memory is still very patchy. The consultant has also directed that he needs to be stimulated if he’s to recover fully, so keep talking to him and asking him questions, but don’t over-tax him.’

Effie’s mind was racing with all these instructions as they entered Mr Webster’s room. Adeline was at his bedside. Effie deliberately didn’t look at her, focusing her attention on the young man in the bed.

Richard Webster looked a great deal better than he had the last time she’d seen him. The bandages that had swathed his skull were gone, and his shaved head was covered with a soft down of light brown hair. He was pale and delicate, his skin translucent, his wasted limbs as slender as a dancer’s. But his hazel eyes shone with warmth and intelligence as they regarded Effie.

‘And who’s this?’ His voice sounded thick and slurred, as if his tongue were too large for his mouth and he couldn’t quite master it.

‘This is Nurse O’Hara, Mr Webster. She’ll be helping me look after you this afternoon.’

Effie sneaked a sideways look at Adeline. Her smile was fixed on her face, but her eyes were dark and cold.

‘O’Hara . . . you’re Irish?’

‘That’s right,’ Effie nodded.

‘I like the Irish nurses. They’re the pretty ones. And I reckon you’re the best-looking so far.’

‘Now, Mr Webster, what have I told you about flirting with the nurses?’ Mary Lund chided him. ‘And in front of your fiancée, too.’ She turned to Effie. ‘Nurse O’Hara, this is Miss Moreau.’

‘Call me Adeline.’ She was a brilliant actress, Effie had to give her credit for that. She rose from her seat and held out her hand in greeting, wearing the brightest, warmest smile Effie had ever seen. She gave away no hint that they were anything but cordial strangers.

But then she was probably used to covering up, Effie thought. After all, she’d had an affair with her fiance’s best friend behind his back.

‘Pay no attention to Richard,’ Adeline went on, shaking her head at the young man in the bed. ‘He’s quite incorrigible, aren’t you, darling?’

Richard’s slack mouth curved in a sheepish grin.

‘Miss Moreau has been a tremendous help to us in looking after Mr Webster,’ Staff Nurse Lund went on. ‘We really don’t know where we’d be without her.’

‘Neither do I,’ Richard mumbled.

Effie watched Adeline turn towards him and reach for his hand. She might be a brilliant actress, but the affection for him in her face was quite genuine. Effie was touched, until she remembered the heartless way Adeline had treated Adam.

‘Now, Mr Webster, Nurse O’Hara will be giving you your lunch,’ Mary Lund said.

‘I can do it,’ Adeline put in quickly. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble, and I’m sure Nurse O’Hara is very busy.’ Her panicked eyes fixed on Effie.

‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Moreau, but it’s no trouble,’ Mary Lund said.

‘But I’d like to—’

‘We’ll do it, Miss Moreau,’ Mary Lund said firmly, putting an end to her protests. ‘Nurse O’Hara will look after him, don’t you worry.’

‘Why don’t you take a break?’ Effie suggested.

‘Good idea,’ Richard agreed. ‘You’ve been sitting here for hours, you need some fresh air.’

‘I’d like to stay,’ Adeline said tightly.

Richard gave Effie a lopsided grin. ‘She’s worried about what I’ll get up to while her back is turned,’ he confided.

Effie looked at Adeline’s tense, white face. She’s more worried about what I’ll get up to, she thought. ‘I’m sure we can be trusted together,’ she said.

Finally, Adeline gave in. ‘I’ll be very quick,’ she said. ‘Just a five-minute walk and then I’ll be back.’

With a quick, warning glance at Effie, she was gone.

‘She worries about me,’ Richard said, when they were alone and Effie was feeding him his lunch. ‘I know I’ve put her through hell recently.’

‘She seems very – devoted,’ Effie said carefully.

‘She is.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Adeline, it can’t be much fun for her, being stuck with an invalid.’

‘You won’t always be an invalid.’

‘Won’t I?’ He looked up at her, his eyes full of despair. ‘I don’t know how I’ll end up. Even the doctors can’t tell me. They just keep saying, wait and see.’ He attempted a twisted smile. ‘I daresay this isn’t what Adeline had in mind when we got engaged.’

Effie put another spoonful of food carefully between his slack lips. ‘Do you remember getting engaged?’

‘Sometimes I think I do. And other times . . . I don’t know if I’m just remembering what Adeline’s told me. It all gets confused, you see.’

‘But you remember Adeline?’

‘Oh, yes. That’s the odd thing. I knew her instantly. The moment I woke up and saw her sitting there, I knew who she was. But everything else . . .’ He shook his head. ‘That’s love for you, I suppose.’

‘So you don’t remember anything else?’ Effie asked.

‘Not really. Nothing at first. But recently . . . It’s as if I’m staring into a thick fog and every so often something will emerge from the mist – a picture of someone’s face, a name. But then they’ll slip away, back into the fog, before I can grasp them.’

‘I’m sure it will come back to you.’

‘I wish I had your confidence, Nurse.’

Effie thought for a moment as she dabbed his chin with the linen napkin.

‘What about the accident?’ she ventured. ‘Do you remember that?’

His head wobbled on his shoulders. ‘I didn’t even know there was an accident until the doctor told me. I’ve tried asking Adeline about it, but she won’t discuss it. She says it’s too upsetting.’ He turned to her. ‘Do you know anything about it?’

Effie paused, wondering how much she should tell him. ‘I know you were in your car, on the Mile End Road.’

‘Was I?’ He looked blank. ‘I don’t know why. I’m not sure I’d ever ventured into the East End before. Was I with anyone?’

‘Well—’

Before Effie could say any more, a sharp voice behind her said, ‘That’s enough.’

She swung around in her seat. Adeline stood in the doorway, her pretty face taut. ‘Really, Richard, how many times have I told you, you’re not to tax yourself and get upset? And you should know better, Nurse.’ She turned to Effie. Her smile was bright and brittle, but Effie glimpsed the angry warning in her eyes.

‘It’s not her fault,’ Richard said. ‘She was just trying to help me remember.’

‘And you will remember, all in good time,’ Adeline said. ‘But you’re not to try to force it.’ She looked at Effie. ‘Have you finished giving him his lunch, Nurse?’

Effie looked at the empty plate. ‘Yes, but—’

‘Then we won’t keep you. I daresay you have a great deal else to do.’

As Effie left, Adeline followed her into the passageway.

‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ she hissed, closing the door behind her.

‘I was just trying to jog his memory. Staff Nurse Lund said—’

‘Never mind what she said! I
know
what you were trying to do. You want to ruin things for me, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Effie said.

‘Don’t play the innocent with me. You don’t approve of me, of what I did. You want to punish me.’

‘It’s none of my business.’

‘You’re right. It isn’t. So I’ll thank you to stay out of it.’ Then, just as Effie was reeling from this assault, Adeline switched on an appealing smile. ‘You know, there’s no reason why we should be at odds,’ she said. ‘I’m sure things would be a lot easier for both of us if we could be friends, don’t you think?’

Effie looked at her. She could see from the calculating look in Adeline’s eyes that she wasn’t remotely interested in Effie’s friendship. All she really wanted was to avoid trouble for herself.

‘Just as you like.’ Effie shrugged.

As she took Richard Webster’s tray back to the kitchen, she met Staff Nurse Anderson.

‘What do you think of Adeline Moreau?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t she beautiful? And so devoted, too.’

‘I suppose so.’ Effie gritted her teeth. If she had to listen to one more person telling her what an angel Adeline was, she might not be responsible for her actions.

‘Mind you,’ Daphne went on, ‘I’d probably be devoted to someone who had that much money.’

Effie looked over her shoulder at Daphne Anderson as she stood at the sink. ‘What do you mean? What money?’

‘Don’t you know? Richard Webster’s family are rolling in it. Apparently he pretends to be some kind of impoverished writer, but he’s the heir to an absolute fortune, so I’ve heard. That could explain a lot about Miss Moreau, don’t you think?’ said Daphne with a sly smile.

Effie was thoughtful as she turned back to the sink. ‘I should say it does,’ she murmured.

WAR WAS COMING.
On 15 March Hitler’s tanks rolled into Prague, and now even the government who had insisted there would be no war had to admit that Chamberlain’s scrap of paper meant nothing. Factories began producing guns, bombs, battleships and aircraft, and people began to volunteer as air-raid wardens, ambulance drivers and auxiliary firemen – ‘just in case’.

On the Saturday morning when the
Picture Post
called for women to volunteer, Helen was at Dora’s house, helping her to knit a matinee jacket for the baby.

‘I’m going to sign up as a volunteer nurse,’ Dora announced as they sat side by side on the sofa, their needles clicking. Helen’s clicked a lot faster than Dora’s. As she’d already told Helen, she was a lost cause when it came to knitting. She had to stop every couple of minutes to sort out a dropped stitch or a tangled piece of wool. ‘They’re bound to have me, don’t you think, with my training?’

Helen laughed, eyeing her distended belly. ‘In your condition? You’d never get a uniform to fit!’

‘I won’t be pregnant for ever. At least, I hope not.’ Dora grimaced, stroking her bump. ‘I can hardly walk, I’m so big. And the kicking! Drives me mad all night, it does. Nick reckons this little one’s going to play for West Ham!’

Helen caught the light in Dora’s eyes. For all she pretended to complain, she was the happiest and most content Helen had ever known her. ‘It’s not due for another couple of months yet, is it?’

‘Early June, so the doctor reckons. You never know, I might have finished this ruddy jacket by then!’ She pulled a comical, cross-eyed face at her knitting.

‘Here, let me sort it out for you.’ Helen put down her own needles and took Dora’s from her.

‘Anyway, what do you reckon? About me signing up as a volunteer nurse?’

‘I think it’s a very good idea. I daresay we’ll have need of extra help, once the bombs start coming down. Especially if there are gas attacks. Dr McKay reckons there could be hundreds of casualties every night.’

‘Don’t!’ Dora shuddered, her face milky pale under its scattering of freckles. ‘I don’t want to think about it.’

‘I don’t either, but Dr McKay says we have to. He plans to ask the Board of Trustees to extend the Casualty department and carry out emergency training.’

She handed Dora back her knitting. Dora stared down at it glumly. ‘It’s a horrible thought, isn’t it? Let’s hope we won’t need it.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ Helen agreed.

They went on knitting, but the thought had taken hold of Helen and wouldn’t let go. She kept thinking of the Casualty hall, extended to the size of a football pitch, with bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. She imagined herself rushing here and there, not knowing who to help first, deafened by the screams of agony.

The thought must have taken hold of Dora, too, because she suddenly said, ‘I can’t imagine what it would be like, can you?’

‘No,’ Helen said, but the truth was she could, only too well. She was haunted by that fire on Christmas Eve, all those people crying out, the stench of burned flesh. She never, ever wanted to hold another dying child in her arms.

‘It’s Nick I’m worried about,’ Dora went on. ‘He’s bound to be called up sooner or later. I don’t want him going off to fight . . .’ Her voice trailed off, thick with emotion. Helen looked away and pretended not to notice. Dora wasn’t one to show her feelings very often.

‘I know what you mean,’ she said. ‘I’m frightened for Chris, too. Even if he stays on the merchant ships he’ll be risking his life out there at sea.’

Dora didn’t reply. She’d gone very quiet, her curly red head bent over her knitting. Helen guessed she was still thinking about Nick being called up and sent off to fight.

She tried to change the subject. ‘Did I tell you, Chris has found another ship? He sets sail for Russia next week. He’ll probably be gone for a couple of months this time.’ She sighed. ‘It’ll be strange without him again. I don’t think we’ve gone a day without seeing each other in weeks.’

She’d expected some sympathy from Dora, so was taken aback when she said quietly, ‘Perhaps that’s for the best.’

Helen looked up at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You said yourself, you’ve been spending a lot of time together.’

‘What’s wrong with that? It’s what courting couples do, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but you don’t want to get too reliant on him, do you?’