A Nightingale Christmas Wish (39 page)

Jonathan sighed. ‘In your case, my friend, I’d say most definitely,’ he said.

Helen gazed down at the babies sleeping end to end in their cot. Two perfect little pink angels, each with a thatch of dark hair. ‘They’re so beautiful,’ she sighed.

‘They are when they’re asleep,’ Dora replied with a grim smile. ‘But they’re little perishers when they’re awake and screaming in the middle of the night!’

Typical Dora, Helen thought, trying to hide her feelings. But her friend’s freckled face glowed with motherly pride as she looked down at her sleeping babies.

Helen had never seen her look so radiant or so contented. ‘Motherhood suits you,’ she said.

‘I dunno about that.’ Dora gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘I hardly have a minute to bless myself these days.’ She ran her hand through her thick red curls. ‘Lucky I’ve got Danny here to help me – eh, Dan?’ She smiled at Nick’s brother, who lingered shyly close by as usual. ‘You should see the way he rocks them to sleep. I swear they drop off quicker for him than they ever do for me!’

Danny’s pale face suffused with embarrassed colour, but he couldn’t keep the pleased smile off his face.

‘He loves those kids,’ Dora said to Helen. ‘Honestly, he watches over them like a proper little guard dog. Won’t let a breath of wind blow on ’em. I dunno know what he’ll do if we—’

‘If what?’ Helen asked.

Dora looked up, her muddy green eyes troubled. ‘Nick wants me and the kids to go away to the country if the war starts,’ she whispered. ‘He reckons we’ll be safer down there.’

‘He’s right, isn’t he?’

‘I suppose so,’ Dora sighed. ‘But I don’t like the idea of going away. This is my home, with him and Danny. I don’t like the thought of leaving them.’

‘But you’ve got to think of the babies,’ Helen reminded her.

‘That’s what Nick says.’

Helen reached down and stroked little Winifred’s downy cheek. ‘Where will you go?’

Walter let out a whimper and Dora bent to attend to him. ‘Millie Benedict has written to invite us to stay with her,’ she said quietly, gathering the baby into her arms.

‘Really? Lucky you!’ Millie Benedict, or Lady Sebastian Rushton, to give her her proper title these days, had been their room-mate while they were training. She was the daughter of an earl, and was now married to the youngest son of a duke. They lived on the family estate in Kent. ‘Imagine living in a castle!’ Helen said.

‘That’s just it – I can’t imagine it,’ Dora groaned. ‘Can you picture me, sitting down to tea with her grandmother, the Dowager Countess? I wouldn’t know what to say to her.’ Her freckled face flushed at the thought.

‘You’ll be all right. You’ll have Millie to look after you.’ Helen smiled. ‘It’ll be fun. Just like the old days in PTS!’

‘Only if you were there too.’

Helen caught her friend’s look and knew what she was going to say. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Why not? You said yourself a lot of the wards are moving down to Kent. I’m sure you could get a transfer if you wanted to. And it would be fun. Just like the old days. Go on, what’s stopping you?’

‘I can’t,’ Helen said.

‘I’m sure there’ll be bodies to patch up in the country same as here,’ Dora said.

‘Yes, but I’ll be needed here badly once the war starts. Dr McKay thinks they’re bound to extend the Casualty department. We’ll have to take over space taken up by the Outpatients’ clinics and train extra staff . . . What?’ Helen stopped talking, aware that her friend was watching her with interest.

‘Nothing.’ Dora shrugged. ‘I’m just surprised you’re not keen to leave Casualty, that’s all. I thought you and Dr McKay didn’t get on?’

‘He’s not that bad, now I’ve got to know him better,’ Helen said. ‘And besides, this is nothing to do with him. It’s about me doing my duty where I’m most needed.’

It was past ten o’clock when she made her way back to the hospital. It was a warm, starry night, and the full moon cast a silvery light. All around her the ward blocks were in darkness, curtains pulled shut, only the occasional green glow visible through a window.

It made Helen think of all the nights she had had to leave windows open for Millie and Dora to climb back in after lights out. The only time Helen herself had tried coming in without a late pass, she’d climbed through the wrong window and ended up trapped in the Home Sister’s bathroom.

She smiled at the thought of Millie. Dora was right, it would be fun to see her again. But at the same time Helen didn’t want to leave Casualty. As she’d explained to Dora, her place was there with . . .

Her place was there, helping to look after all the emergencies they were bound to get in once the war started, she amended the thought in her mind.

She had almost reached the doors to the sisters’ home when she heard a voice behind her.

‘Sister Dawson? Helen?’

The voice was so faint that at first Helen wondered if it was the breeze whispering through the plane trees. But the night air was sultry and still, and not a breeze stirred.

‘Who is it?’ She spoke softly, but her voice still sounded loud in the quiet of the evening.

‘It’s me.’

Helen swung round. ‘Nurse Willard? What are you doing lurking here at this time of—’ She stopped talking as Penny Willard stepped out of the shadows. ‘Oh, Willard!’ cried Helen. ‘What have you done to yourself?’

HELEN HARDLY RECOGNISED
her at first. Bruises bloomed purple, blue and black around the swollen, puffy mess that was Penny’s left eye. Blood trickled like tears down her cheek.

‘Thank God it’s you,’ she stammered. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I didn’t know where else to go for help.’

‘What happened?’

‘I – I walked into a door.’

Walked into Joe Armstrong’s fist, more like. Helen fought back the comment. ‘I’ll take you to Casualty,’ she said. ‘I know it’s ambulance emergencies only, but I’m sure they mind—’

‘No! I don’t want to go there. The night nurses will be there, and they’ll only talk.’

‘But you need to get this treated.’

‘I just need you to clean it up for me,’ Penny said. ‘I’d do it myself, but I don’t want to go back to the nurses’ home looking like this. Just a bit of gentian violet on it should do. Please?’ she begged.

Helen sighed. ‘Let’s have a look at it.’

She pulled Penny into the lamplight and tilted back her head to examine her injured eye. Close to, it was even worse. The skin around it was shiny and taut over the grotesque swelling, splotched with vivid colour. Inside the narrow slit, the white of her eye swam bright scarlet with blood. As Helen gently touched her cheekbone, Penny hissed with pain and flinched away.

‘It’s badly cut,’ Helen said. ‘I think you might need sutures.’

‘No!’

‘Willard, please. Let me take you to Casualty. You need to get this examined properly.’

‘I can’t.’ Penny jerked out of her grasp. ‘I can’t have them all gossiping about me, I can’t face it.’

‘Then let me take you to the Sick Bay,’ Helen pleaded. ‘Dr McKay can help you.’

‘I don’t want anyone else knowing,’ Penny insisted. ‘I came to you because I trusted you. If you won’t help me, I’ll sort it out for myself.’

She started to walk away. Helen watched her stumbling off into the night. ‘Willard, wait,’ she called out. Penny stopped, but didn’t turn round. ‘I’ll help you,’ Helen said. ‘But we need to go to the Sick Bay.’

Penny shook her head. ‘I told you, I don’t want Dr McKay involved.’

‘We won’t tell him,’ Helen said. ‘I’ll treat you there myself.’

The hospital’s Sick Bay was at the top of the main building, away from the wards. Leading off a short corridor were four rooms, each made up with three hospital beds. At the far end was the consulting room, lined with rows of jars and bottles and furnished with a couch, screens and a desk. This was where the doctors and nurses reported to Dr McKay, the Medical Superintendent, when they were feeling ill. Not that many did, since all the nurses knew only a severed limb or a bad case of TB would ever count as a ‘real’ illness.

Luckily, none of the beds was occupied and the whole floor was in darkness. Helen could hear her heart thudding in her ears as she crept in, Penny following.

‘We’ll have to be careful,’ she whispered. ‘If Night Sister sees a light on up here she’s bound to come and investigate. You pull the curtains, then I’ll switch on the light.’

As Helen stumbled towards the desk in the darkness, Penny touched her arm.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I know you’re taking a big risk to help me, and I do appreciate it.’

‘I don’t know if I will be able to help you yet,’ Helen reminded her. ‘I can clean you up, but if that injury is really bad you’ll need a doctor to look at it.’

‘I know.’ But even though the darkness hid her expression, Helen knew Penny had no intention of seeing a doctor, no matter how bad her injury was.

‘Close those curtains and let’s see what we can do, shall we?’

Penny lay on the couch while Helen tended to her, gently swabbing the wound to cleanse it.

‘How did this really happen?’ he asked. ‘Was it an argument?’

‘I don’t know what you mean. I told you, I walked into a door—’

‘Willard, please. I’m not a fool.’ Helen sighed. ‘I’m taking a risk to help you, the least you can do is be honest with me.’

The fight seemed to go out of Penny.

‘Joe didn’t mean to do it,’ she said. ‘He just lost his temper, that’s all.’ She took a deep, ragged breath. ‘It was a silly thing, some man started talking to me in the pub. I shouldn’t have spoken back to him, I know Joe doesn’t like me talking to other men. But I was only being polite, I couldn’t very well ignore him—’

‘You’re allowed to talk to other people, you know,’ Helen said. ‘Joe doesn’t own you.’

‘He loves me,’ Penny insisted stoutly. ‘I’ve never had a man fight for me like that before. It shows he cares.’

‘It’s a strange way of showing it, to hit someone.’

‘It was just this once.’

‘Penny, I’ve seen the bruises on your arms,’ Helen said wearily. ‘I’ve seen the way you walk sometimes, as if your ribs are cracked. He’s usually more careful than this, isn’t he? He hits you where it won’t show.’

Penny stared up at her, her face full of dismay. ‘Do you – do you think anyone else knows?’ she whispered anxiously. ‘Oh, God, I’d be so ashamed if I thought people were talking about me.’

‘I don’t think anyone else has noticed.’

‘Thank God.’ Penny sighed with relief. ‘I don’t want anyone to think badly of him, you see. I mean, it’s not Joe’s fault. He just gets angry sometimes. But he does love me,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t bother with me otherwise, would he?’

She looked up, her battered face so full of hope it nearly broke Helen’s heart. Without answering the question she finished cleansing the wound and bent to have a closer look.

‘That cut isn’t too deep, but it’s bad enough,’ she said. ‘I think it’s going to leave a nasty scar.’

‘Let me see.’ Penny struggled to sit upright and took the mirror Helen offered her. ‘Oh, no! It looks awful. People are bound to notice, aren’t they? What can I tell them?’ She looked panic-stricken. ‘I’ll have to put off the wedding,’ she said. ‘I can’t walk down the aisle with a big scar on my face, can I?’

Helen stared at her, appalled. ‘You’re surely not still going to marry him after this?’

A flush crept up Penny’s neck. ‘I told you, he’s not always like this. Most of the time he’s all right. I just have to be careful when he’s in one of his moods, that’s all.’

‘So you’re going to spend the rest of your life tiptoeing around, making sure you don’t upset him?’

‘You don’t understand!’ Penny thrust the mirror back into Helen’s hands and started to get off the couch. ‘Joe’s the most loving person I’ve ever known. Most of the men I’ve gone out with have upped and left me, but not Joe. He really cares about me, wants to spend the rest of his life with me. That says something, doesn’t it?’

‘It says you’re a fool if you marry him.’

Penny’s face puckered with anger. ‘I don’t want to end up lonely and on my own,’ she insisted. ‘What will that say about me, if I end up a miserable old maid like Sister Wren or Miss Hanley?’

‘It’s better than being married to the wrong man.’

‘Is it?’

Helen didn’t have time to reply because at that moment the door behind her opened. There was a click and Helen flinched as the room was suddenly filled with blinding light.

Dr McKay stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his expression icy.

‘Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?’ he said.

THERE WAS A
moment of horrified silence. Helen glanced at Penny. She was trembling.

‘Well?’ Dr McKay said. ‘I’d like to know why I came back up here to fetch my bag, and I suddenly find two nurses in here without permission?’

Helen stepped forward. ‘I’m sorry, Dr McKay,’ she said, fighting to sound calm. ‘It was my decision to come here and I take full responsibility for it. Nurse Willard was injured, and she needed urgent treatment.’

‘I see.’ Dr McKay’s brown eyes turned to Penny’s face for a moment. ‘And it didn’t occur to you to call me?’

‘I—’

‘It was my fault, Doctor,’ Penny blurted out. ‘I asked Sister Dawson to help me. She wanted to call you, but I wouldn’t let her.’

I’m for it now, Helen thought, feeling his enquiring gaze on her.

‘How bad is it?’ he said.

She stared at him blankly. ‘I’m sorry, sir?’

‘The injury, Sister. How bad is it? You must have carried out some kind of assessment, surely.’ There was an edge of impatience in his voice.

Helen pulled herself together quickly. ‘The cut isn’t very deep, but I’m not sure if it needs sutures, sir,’ she replied.

‘Let’s have a look, shall we? If you don’t mind, Nurse Willard?’

‘N-no, Doctor.’

Helen caught Penny’s quick, panicked glance as she settled back on the couch.

She watched Dr McKay as he bent over, examining the injury. Helen was still too terrified to allow herself to breathe. But at the same time she felt strangely relieved that he was here. His presence calmed her, made her believe he could make everything right.