A Nightingale Christmas Wish (3 page)

‘It was like this the day he was born.’ His mother Nellie stood at the foot of the grave, her coat pulled tightly around her bulky figure. ‘Snow piled up outside the door, it was. My old man had to dig a path down the alley for the midwife to get in.’ She shivered. ‘Charlie hated the cold, bless him. Never liked that his birthday was in the winter. “Why couldn’t I have been born in the summer?” he used to say. “Winter’s such a rotten time of year.”’

She fell silent, her lips trembling. Helen pretended not to notice as she arranged carnations in an urn, a splash of scarlet against the white snow. She kept her eyes averted so she didn’t have to look at Charlie’s name, carved into the grey slab of a headstone. As long as she didn’t allow herself to read the words, she could stay strong.

‘It doesn’t get any easier, does it?’ Nellie seemed to read her thoughts. ‘I know it’s past two years, but I still miss him.’

‘Me too,’ Helen said quietly.

‘Bless you, love, of course you do. It was cruel, him being taken so soon after you were married.’

‘At least we
were
married.’ Helen knew on her wedding day that they wouldn’t have long together, but she was determined to take his name before he died. Sad as they were, those few days as man and wife had been the most special time she could remember.

She felt the hot tears brimming and dashed them away with her gloved hand. She wished she could be more like Nellie, letting her emotions spill out. But her own mother had taught her differently.

Nellie’s hand settled on her sleeve, comforting her. ‘Come on, love,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk you to the hospital.’

They trudged back together through the streets of Bethnal Green. Thick white pelmets of snow clung to the roofs and window sills of the narrow terraces, but on the street it had turned to an ugly grey slush that seeped through their shoes. That didn’t deter the children, who whooped with delight as they pulled their makeshift sledges up and down the middle of the street, laughing as they aimed gritty grey snowballs at each other. One whizzed past Helen’s shoulder, narrowly missing her and Nellie.

‘Sorry, missus!’ A boy stuck his head around the corner and gave them a cheeky grin. ‘That was meant for my mate!’

‘Little perishers.’ Nellie shook her head, smiling indulgently. ‘My lot used to be just the same. As soon as it snowed they’d be out in it, getting up to all sorts.’

‘William and I were too,’ Helen recalled. ‘He once decided to save himself the trouble of making a real snowman by covering me in snow instead. I had to stand still for so long, I couldn’t feel my feet. I nearly had frostbite by the time Mother realised what he was doing.’

‘That’s big brothers for you,’ Nellie chuckled. ‘Charlie and his cousins were just the same with our Ivy.’

She fell silent again. Helen tucked her arm under Nellie’s and they walked on, passing the end of Columbia Road Market. As it was a Saturday morning, the narrow street was already bustling with people. The stallholders, wrapped up in layers of coats, scarves, hats, mufflers and gloves, stamped their feet and blew on their hands to keep out the cold as they plied their trade. A couple waved at Nellie as she and Helen passed by the end of the road. The Dawsons had been running a fruit and veg stall on the market for more than twenty-five years, and everyone knew them.

‘Pity my poor Ivy on the stall this morning!’ Nellie grinned. ‘She won’t be happy, getting up at the crack of dawn to set up in this weather.’

‘Do you want to go down and say hello?’ Helen asked.

‘And listen to her complain? Not likely!’ Nellie rolled her eyes. ‘Ta very much, love, but I’d rather have a nice natter with you. You can tell me what’s going on at that hospital of yours.’

‘Well, it’s funny you should ask . . .’ As they walked, Helen told Nellie about starting her new job as acting Casualty Sister the following week.

‘Sister, eh? Blimey, girl, you kept that quiet.’ Nellie looked impressed. ‘That’s a step up for you, ain’t it?’

‘I suppose so.’

Nellie sent her a sideways look. ‘You don’t sound too sure about it, I must say.’

‘I am,’ Helen said. ‘It’s just – oh, I don’t know.’ She paused, searching for the right words to explain the worries that had kept her awake for the past week. ‘I’m not sure if I’m up to the job. I’ve only been qualified as a nurse for two years. It’s early to be promoted.’

‘They must think a lot of you, then.’

Helen was silent. She suspected it had more to do with her mother’s interference. Helen could almost see it in Matron’s face when she’d told her about the job.

Nellie squeezed her hand. ‘Come on, spit it out. You’ve got something on your mind, I can tell.’

Helen smiled ruefully. How strange that she could talk to Nellie more easily than she could to her own mother. Constance Tremayne would only dismiss her fears and tell her she was being silly.

‘I’m worried I don’t have the first idea about running a ward, let alone a department as busy as Casualty,’ she said. ‘And the staff nurse under me is years senior to me. I don’t know what she’ll think of that.’

‘Then you’ll just have to show ’em what you’re made of, won’t you?’ Nellie said. ‘Besides, that Matron of yours wouldn’t have given you the job if she didn’t reckon you could manage it.’

‘I suppose not,’ Helen agreed reluctantly. ‘But I didn’t want to move from Theatre. I liked working there.’

Nellie shuddered. ‘Rather you than me, love. I don’t think I could watch people being cut about all day long!’

‘You forget they’re people,’ Helen said. ‘They’re just cases to be treated.’

That was what she liked about it. In Theatre, the patients were brought in, put to sleep, treated and then taken away again. It wasn’t like working on the ward. Helen never had to get to know them, or listen to their stories, or worry that they might not pull through. They were just names on a list, to be forgotten about as soon as the operation was over.

They skirted the tall, wrought-iron gates of Victoria Park. Beyond the gates it looked like a wintry wonderland, the dark, skeletal trees laced with snow.

‘I suppose you’ll be working over Christmas, if you’re in charge?’ Nellie said.

‘I hadn’t really thought about it,’ Helen replied. ‘I’ll be in charge of the duty rosters. But it doesn’t seem fair to give myself time off when the other nurses might have families they want to visit.’

‘Don’t you want to visit yours?’

Helen was silent for a moment. ‘Well, my father will be busy in church most of the day, and I expect William will be on call at the hospital as usual, so there’ll only be me and Mother . . .’ She let her voice trail off.

‘You could always spend Christmas with us?’ Nellie suggested. ‘We’re only round the corner, and you know we’d love to have you. The kids are always asking when you’re coming to visit.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose.’

‘You wouldn’t be imposing,’ Nellie said. ‘You’re family, remember?’ She put her hand over Helen’s. ‘Charlie would have wanted us to look after you.’

Helen smiled. She had been welcomed so easily into his rough and ready family, it made her feel ashamed to remember how badly her own mother had treated him. Constance Tremayne had never got over the fact that her daughter had married a costermonger’s son.

‘He wouldn’t have wanted you to be a stranger,’ Nellie said, then added, ‘he wouldn’t have wanted you to be unhappy either.’

There was something about the way she said it that made Helen turn to look at her.

‘I am happy,’ she said.

‘Are you?’

‘Of course. As happy as I can be,’ she added in a low voice.

The truth was, she wasn’t sure what happiness was any more. After two long years, the first sharp pain of Charlie’s loss had subsided to a dull ache. She still yearned for him, but these days she could wake up in the morning and not dread the thought of dragging herself through her next waking hours. Only very occasionally did it catch her out. Like when she dreamed of him so vividly that she woke up believing he was still there with her. Then the fresh pain of loss would make her catch her breath.

But was the absence of pain the same as happiness? Helen wasn’t sure. For the past two years it was as if the world had been shrouded in a fine grey mist. Through it, she could see the rest of the world, laughing and loving and going about its business, while she stood apart, detached from everything going on around her.

Nellie was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘Have you thought about courting again?’

Helen whipped round to look at her, shocked. ‘What? No!’

‘Why not? You can’t be alone for ever, can you? How old are you? Twenty-four? You’re still a young woman—’

‘I don’t want anyone else,’ Helen cut her off firmly.

‘You might say that now, but sooner or later someone’s going to come along and catch your eye. And I know my Charlie wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone. He’d want you to be happy.’

‘I don’t want anyone else,’ Helen repeated, more firmly.

‘Whatever you say, love. I just wanted you to know that if you did want to start courting again, it would be all right with me.’

Helen was silent, lost in her thoughts. Until Nellie mentioned it, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she might fall in love again. Not just out of respect for Charlie, but because she genuinely couldn’t imagine any other man stirring her heart the way he had.

The silence stretched between them, and Helen was relieved when they reached the hospital gates.

‘Well, I’ll be seeing you, love.’ Nellie planted a warm kiss on her frozen cheek. ‘Good luck with the new job tomorrow. And you won’t forget what I said, will you? We’d love to see you at Christmas.’

‘I’ll try,’ Helen said. Although deep down she knew she wouldn’t. Even after two years, it hurt too much to go to Charlie’s home, knowing he wouldn’t be there.

AFTER A SLEEPLESS
night, Helen was up, bathed and dressed well before the maid brought her tea in bed at half-past six on Monday morning.

‘Oh! I beg your pardon, Sister, I didn’t know you were up and about,’ she said, as she placed the cup and saucer on the bedside table. ‘Most of the sisters don’t like to be woken before half-past, what with them not being on duty until eight.’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Helen confessed. ‘It’s my first day today.’

‘Ah.’ The maid gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Will you be wanting your breakfast now? A nice poached egg, or a piece of toast, just to settle you?’

‘Thank you, but I really couldn’t eat a thing.’ Helen put her hand over her stomach. It felt like a tight knot.

‘Well, if you’re sure, Sister? We don’t want you going hungry, do we?’

After the maid had gone, Helen sat down at her dressing table to finish pinning up her hair. From the collar down, she was all bristling authority in her severe grey uniform. But from the neck up, all she could see was a pair of frightened brown eyes staring back at her from a pale, oval face. How on earth was she going to convince the other nurses in Casualty that she was a worthy sister, when she didn’t quite believe it herself?

She had hardly slept all night. Not just from fear, but because the Sisters’ quarters were so quiet compared to the nurses’ home. Helen was used to voices and laughter in the passageways, but the ward sisters seemed to live in sombre silence.

After drinking her tea, pacing around her room, checking her dress several times and tying and retying the stiff bow of her headdress under her chin, it still wasn’t seven o’clock. Helen decided to walk down to Casualty early, to look around and meet the nurses when they came on duty at seven. Surely setting foot inside her new department couldn’t be as bad as sitting in her room with a churning stomach, worrying about it.

The Casualty department was open throughout the night for the ambulances to bring in emergencies. Light spilled from the high arched window above the double doors, piercing the wintry darkness as Helen made her way across the courtyard.

The main Casualty hall was a large, vaulted room as big as a tennis court, filled with rows of empty wooden benches. At the far end of the hall, a weary-looking night nurse had nodded off behind the booking-in desk, which sat on top of a raised dais.

She jolted awake when Helen walked in.

‘Sister!’ She stood up and glanced at the clock. ‘I wasn’t expecting you so early.’

‘It’s all right, I just wanted to have a look around and get my bearings.’ Helen smiled at her. ‘Busy night?’ she asked.

‘Very quiet, Sister.’ The girl recovered herself. ‘Dr McKay and Dr Adler came on duty ten minutes ago and sent Dr Ross home.’

‘Where are they?’

The student pointed down the short stump of corridor beyond the booking-in desk. ‘Consulting Room Three, Sister.’

‘I suppose I’d better go and introduce myself.’ Helen turned back to the student. ‘Thank you, Nurse. You may go off duty now.’

‘Oh! Thank you, Sister.’ The girl glanced at the clock again, her face lighting up. Helen remembered her own student days, and how grateful she’d always been to be sent off even five minutes early from night duty.

When the nurse had gone, Helen took off her cloak and hung it up in the nurses’ cloakroom, then made her way to the consulting room. Her hand was raised to knock when she heard voices drifting from the other side of the door.

‘All I’m saying is give her a chance, David,’ she heard a man saying. ‘We don’t know what she’s like yet, do we?’

‘Oh, we all know exactly what she’s going to be like. She’s Mrs Tremayne’s daughter, isn’t she?’ The other man’s well-educated Scottish voice was full of disgust.

Helen froze, her hand still poised to knock.

‘She might not be that bad. They think very highly of her in Theatre, so I understand,’ the first voice said.

‘It’s a pity they didn’t keep her, in that case.’

The man gave a rumbling laugh. ‘David! I’m shocked at you. It’s not like you to be so intolerant.’

‘I have nothing against the girl, I promise you. But that’s what she is – a girl. For heaven’s sake, Jonathan, she’s barely older than a student. We need someone with experience to run this department.’