A Nightingale Christmas Wish (29 page)

‘Thank you.’ Effie admired herself in the mirror again. ‘I just hope he’s worth it,’ she murmured.

The dress had cost her a whole week’s wages, but it was gorgeous. Daisy-printed rayon in the same sky blue as her eyes, with a sweetheart neckline, tiny red buttons down the front and a shirred midriff to show off her waist. Adam had never seen her out of uniform before, and Effie wanted to make a good impression. She’d taken special trouble over her hair, too. It had been torture to tame her cloud of dark curls into soft waves.

‘Where’s he taking you?’ Devora asked.

‘I don’t know yet. We’re meeting outside Great Portland Street Tube station, so it must be something fancy.’

‘He’s probably taking you to the zoo,’ Jess muttered, head still buried in her book.

Effie stared at her, appalled. ‘He wouldn’t!’ She had borrowed Katie’s best calfskin sandals and didn’t think her sister would be impressed if they came back covered in dirt and heaven knows what else.

‘Of course he wouldn’t,’ Devora said, shooting a warning look at Jess. ‘Maybe he’s taking you out to dinner somewhere fancy? Or dancing at the Café de Paris?’ she suggested.

Effie looked at her reflection in dismay as she added more lipstick. She loved dancing, but everyone said she had two left feet.

‘I doubt if he’ll be doing the foxtrot with a newly repaired femur,’ Jess reminded them.

‘That’s true,’ Devora said. ‘It’ll be dinner then. Or the theatre. Or cocktails in the American Bar at the Savoy!’

‘How do you know so much about these places?’ Effie asked her.

Devora sighed. ‘I read the society pages. It’s the closest I ever get to a night out.’

As student nurses, none of them had much of a social life. When they weren’t working, they were either studying or sleeping. At least Jess had a boyfriend, Sam, who she sometimes went out with. The nearest Effie and Devora ever got to a date was when they went to the pictures with each other.

So far as Effie knew, Devora had never had a boyfriend. But that didn’t stop her from being an expert on matters of the heart, thanks to devouring endless advice columns in her women’s magazines. She had solemnly advised Effie that a lady should keep a man waiting if she wanted him to be more interested in her. But Effie was so worried Adam wouldn’t be interested in her at all, she arrived at the Tube station early.

It was a relief when she saw him crossing the street towards her, leaning heavily on his stick.

He looked her up and down. ‘You look very smart.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s very – nice.’ He seemed more amused than impressed. ‘A bit dressed up for where we’re going, though. People don’t usually make that much effort.’

‘Where are we going exactly?’ Effie asked.

‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I thought I’d mentioned it. We’re going to a poetry recital.’

Effie’s heart sank to her calfskin sandals. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You didn’t mention it.’

‘Yes, it’s a very special event. A poet from Madrid has written an epic verse about his experiences in the Spanish Civil War. This is his debut performance.’

‘How exciting,’ Effie muttered through gritted teeth.

All the way there she thought Adam must be joking. At any moment she expected him to turn around and laugh and say he was taking her to the pictures instead. Or to the theatre, or even just for tea and a bun. Anything but this!

How Jess and Devora would laugh at her, she thought as she seethed with resentment at the back of a stuffy church hall. It was hot and crowded, and Effie could feel her hair wilting and her rayon dress sticking to her perspiring skin.

And all the while the speaker droned on. Effie pretended to study the programme in her lap as her eyelids drooped.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, it was over.

‘What did you think?’ Adam asked eagerly as they emerged into the fresh air.

‘It was – different,’ Effie said tactfully.

‘It was, wasn’t it? He’s an inspiration, don’t you think? Such power – and such courage.’ Adam looked so enthusiastic, Effie wondered if she’d dozed off during the performance and missed something interesting. ‘As soon as I found out he was coming to London, I knew I had to see him.’ He smiled at her. ‘You see? I told you you didn’t know what you were missing.’

‘I do now,’ Effie muttered.

She shouldn’t blame him, she told herself. He wanted to do something special for her. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t appreciate it.

And Adeline would probably have loved it, she thought.

Adam must have noticed her expression, because his smile faded. ‘You didn’t really enjoy it, did you?’ he said flatly.

He looked so crestfallen, Effie rushed to console him. ‘It wasn’t that bad. I’m just not used to poetry recitals and suchlike,’ she said.

‘Of course. I should have thought of that. If you’re not used to hearing poetry then it’s bound to take you a while to learn to appreciate it.’ He smiled sadly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This was supposed to be a nice evening, to thank you for looking after me.’

‘We could still have a nice evening,’ she said.

‘How?’ he looked gloomy.

Effie grinned. ‘Do you know the American Bar at the Savoy?’

Effie felt very swish, sitting in the stylish bar among the cream of chic, wealthy London society, enjoying her first taste of a dry Martini. A curving, mirror-trimmed bar ran the length of the room, with glass shelves lined with more colourful bottles of spirits than she had ever seen in her life. Reflected in the mirrored walls, they seemed to go on and on for ever.

‘This is more like it,’ she beamed.

‘Is it?’ Adam looked around. He still seemed rather unsure of himself, she thought. ‘I’ve never been here before, but I know Adeline and Richard used to come here often . . .’

‘Do we have to talk about Adeline?’ Effie interrupted him.

‘I’m sorry.’ He looked shamefaced. ‘I am making a mess of this evening, aren’t I?’ he said ruefully. ‘But it’s difficult for me not to think about her. I still have feelings for her, you see. Even though it’s obvious she felt nothing for me.’

‘Perhaps she did . . . in her own way,’ Effie said carefully.

His mouth twisted. ‘You don’t believe that,’ he said. ‘No, you were right when you said she used me. She never had any feelings for me. She was just bored, that’s all.’

Effie twirled an olive around on the end of a cocktail stick. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so unkind.’

‘No, I needed to hear it. I’m grateful to you for your honesty.’ He lifted his gaze to meet hers. ‘I just wish I hadn’t made such a fool of myself, that’s all. And more than anything, I wish I hadn’t hurt my best friend.’

Effie hesitated, then said, ‘What happened . . . on the night of the accident? You’ve never really told me.’ She’d never liked to ask while Adam was in hospital. But now she felt they could speak more openly.

‘I decided to tell Richard the truth. He was my best friend. He’d taken me under his wing when I first came to London. He was rich, well connected – he introduced me to lots of his friends. I felt I owed it to him to be honest.’

‘About you and Adeline?’

He nodded. ‘I fell in love with her from the first moment I met her. She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. But, of course, I didn’t do anything about it. As I said, Richard was my best friend. But then he had to go to Scotland for a couple of months on family business, and Adeline and I were left in London on our own, so—’

‘So you seduced her?’ Effie said. Even though she’d said she didn’t want to talk about Adeline, this was more intriguing than one of the torrid stories in Devora’s magazines.

Adam smiled. ‘Is that what you think of me? A great seducer? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m hardly Rudolph Valentino.’ He shook his head. ‘It was Adeline who seduced me. Not that I wasn’t willing,’ he added. ‘As I said, I’d loved her from the first moment I saw her. I genuinely believed she’d fallen for me, and that our love was meant to be.’

Effie looked into his green eyes, so sincere and full of emotion. She could imagine how flattering it must have been for Adeline, having someone so devoted to her that he would betray his best friend.

‘It was a very passionate affair,’ Adam went on. ‘I’d never felt like that about anyone in my life, I didn’t even know it was possible to feel such an overpowering love for anyone. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help my feelings. I was mad with love for her. I knew we were meant to be together.’

Effie sipped her drink, wincing at the sharp taste. ‘And so you decided to tell Richard?’

His gaze fell away. ‘I had to. I couldn’t go on lying to him, it wasn’t right. And I thought Adeline wanted to be with me. That’s what she told me, or I would never—’ He broke off. ‘I thought I was doing it for her,’ he said. ‘I wanted her to tell him, but she said she couldn’t bring herself to. I thought if I did, it would save her all that heartache . . . But I suppose the real reason she didn’t tell him was because she didn’t want to.’ Adam’s expression was bitter.

He explained then how he’d decided to tell Richard one night, when they were on their way home from a party. ‘We were driving back to London, and we’d both been drinking, and – I don’t know, it just seemed like the right time.’ Adam shrugged. ‘I don’t know how I expected him to react, but he went berserk. He put his foot down, started acting like a madman. He kept screaming that if he couldn’t have her then neither would I.’ He screwed his eyes shut, reliving the moment. ‘Poor Richard,’ he whispered.

‘Not just him,’ Effie said. ‘You could have been killed too, don’t forget.’

‘I would have deserved it,’ said Adam in a low voice. ‘Perhaps it would have been better for everyone if I had died that night.’

‘You mustn’t talk like that!’ Impulsively Effie put out her hand to cover his. He stared down at it for a moment, but didn’t take his hand away.

‘Why not? I’ve made a mess of everything, haven’t I? My friend nearly died, and the woman I love doesn’t even care about me.’

The woman I love.
In spite of it all, he still loved Adeline.

Effie pulled her hand away. She didn’t know why his admission should hurt so much, but it did.

As he took her home, Adam said ruefully, ‘I’m sorry if you’ve had a wasted evening.’

‘It wasn’t completely wasted,’ she assured him. ‘I got the chance to show off my dress at the Savoy!’

‘You looked very nice.’ His eyes met hers for a moment, then he looked away. ‘I’ve made a mess of this too, haven’t I? What girl wants to sit listening to me bemoaning my lost love all night?’

‘I didn’t mind,’ Effie said. ‘Anyway, I’m prepared to give you another chance.’

His mouth curved. ‘That’s very generous of you.’

‘Isn’t it? Only this time I choose where we go.’

He eyed her warily. ‘What have you got in mind?’

‘Never you mind.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘But wherever it is, it’ll be a lot more fun than a poetry recital!’

‘
YOU WANTED TO
see me, Matron?’

Kathleen looked up at Gertrude Carrington, sister of Hyde, the Female Chronics ward, standing in the doorway of her office. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Half-past seven on the dot. Trust Sister Hyde to be punctual to the second.

‘Yes. Please come in, Sister.’

Gertrude closed the door carefully behind her and crossed the room to stand in front of Kathleen’s desk, hands folded in front of her. She was in her sixties, tall, gaunt-framed and utterly fearsome. Her grey hair was drawn back under her starched bonnet, the jaunty bow under her chin a stark contrast to her bony, unsmiling face.

Kathleen picked up her pen in an effort to prevent her hands from shaking. She wasn’t looking forward to this. Sister Hyde was one of the old school. She had been at the Nightingale for as long as anyone could remember, and probably several decades before that.

She wasn’t going to like what Kathleen had to say. But it had to be done.

She invited her to sit down but Gertrude Carrington dismissed her offer with a stiff, ‘I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind, Matron. It wouldn’t be proper.’

Kathleen smiled. ‘As you wish.’ She paused for a moment, then said, ‘As you have probably heard, the Trustees have put plans in place for the hospital in the event of war – which, unfortunately, seems ever more likely.’

Gertrude Carrington’s nostrils flared, but she said nothing. She wasn’t going to make this any easier, Kathleen realised.

‘We have already made arrangements to transfer the medical school down to Kent, and over the coming months we will be reducing the number of hospital admissions, and closing down wards as and when it is possible to do so,’ she went on. ‘But as you can imagine, that isn’t practical for the Chronic wards.’

Strictly speaking, the Chronic wards were for patients with long-term or terminal conditions. In reality, they were the elderly men and women who had nowhere else to go. Often they were alone in the world, or had been abandoned by their families. They were the forgotten, the confused, the infirm and the weak.

And Sister Hyde protected them with the ferocity of a lioness.

‘So what will you do with them, Matron?’ Gertrude Carrington’s tone was polite, but with an undertone of steel.

‘We have decided to disperse them to other hospitals.’ Kathleen busied herself consulting her notes so she wouldn’t have to meet the older woman’s eye. ‘So far, we have managed to arrange beds for them at St Agatha’s in Sidcup, St Giles in Guildford and – the St Albans Public Assistance Institution.’

There was a lengthy pause. ‘The workhouse.’ Gertrude Carrington uttered the words through stiff lips. ‘You’re sending them to the workhouse.’

‘Now, Sister Hyde, you know there’s no such thing these days,’ Kathleen told her briskly. ‘These are all perfectly good hospitals, where our patients will be well looked after. And it will be a lot safer for them out of London, if war comes . . .’

She trailed off in the face of Gertrude Carrington’s basilisk stare. Sister Hyde had the power to make Kathleen feel like a foolish probationer again.

‘I don’t know if you are aware, Matron, but many of the elderly patients on my ward and on Male Chronics grew up in fear and terror of the workhouse. They have lived all their lives in the shadow of it. If you send them there, it could kill them.’