A Nightingale Christmas Wish (9 page)

As it turned out, Effie won the bet. So she was in an even more high-spirited mood when she was finally able to see Adam Campbell later that morning.

He was half propped up, his fractured leg still suspended in mid-air, reading a newspaper.

‘You don’t want to be reading that,’ Effie said. ‘I never bother with newspapers, they’re always too full of bad news.’

He sent her a withering look. ‘That’ll be why you’re so well informed.’

‘As a matter of fact, I’ve got some news for you that you won’t find in your newspaper.’

‘Oh, yes? Don’t tell me, the man in bed five has had a bowel movement. That’s the kind of thing you nurses talk about, isn’t it? When you’re not discussing your love lives, that is.’

Effie thought about keeping her news to herself to punish him for his meanness. But she was so excited she couldn’t wait to tell him.

‘Your friend Mr Webster has woken up,’ she said.

Adam looked at her sharply. ‘He’s awake? Really?’

She nodded, hardly able to hide her glee. ‘He regained consciousness yesterday. It’s still early days, but that’s good news, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, thank God. You don’t know what a relief that is.’

For a moment they stared at each other. Then Effie collected herself. ‘Anyway, I’d better get on,’ she said, straightening his bedclothes for something to do. ‘Heaven forbid anyone should think I’m standing here discussing my love life.’

Adam looked sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

As she walked away, he called after her, ‘Thank you, Nurse. For letting me know about Richard.’

‘That’s all right. I’ll tell you if I hear any more.’

Effie walked away, smiling to herself. Getting a thank you from Adam Campbell was even better than winning sixpence from Tilly Turnbull.

SNOW HAD FALLEN
heavily overnight, burying the hospital courtyard and the yard outside the Casualty department under deep drifts of crisp whiteness, marred only by lines of black footprints where the nurses had trudged through it that morning.

‘It looks smashing, doesn’t it? Like a winter wonderland,’ Penny said as they stood at the doors, gazing out.

Helen frowned. ‘I’m more worried about how ambulances will get through.’

Penny laughed at her. ‘Trust you to think of that!’

‘It’s my job.’ Helen turned to the students. ‘Kowalski, telephone the Porters’ Lodge and ask them to come down and clear the snow away from outside our doors, would you?’

‘Yes, Sister.’ Kowalski scuttled off, but returned a moment later. ‘Please, Sister, Mr Hopkins says to tell you all his men are already out clearing the main driveway. He can’t spare anyone else.’

Helen frowned. ‘What are we supposed to do if an ambulance arrives? We can’t very well ask them to haul stretchers up from the main gates, can we?’

‘She’ll have us clearing it ourselves in a minute!’ one of the students, French, whispered to Perkins.

Helen smiled. ‘That sounds like an excellent suggestion, French,’ she said. ‘Get your cloaks on, Nurses. Then you three can go down to the Porters’ Lodge and beg some shovels. Mr Hopkins might not be able to spare us any men, but I’m sure he can manage something for us to dig with!’

Ten minutes later the five of them were ankle-deep in snow, clearing a broad path from the courtyard up to the doors. The metallic scrape of their shovels across the cobbles and the chatter of the nurses sounded oddly loud in the snow-muffled silence. The students, at first not very keen to venture out, were soon enjoying themselves immensely, laughing and egging each other on, their cheeks bright and glowing. But Penny Willard moved even more slowly than usual. She scarcely seemed able to lift her spade.

‘Put your back into it, Nurse Willard!’ Helen called out to her across the yard.

‘I’m doing my best, Sister.’ Helen noticed Penny’s strained smile and trudged over to her.

‘Are you all right, Nurse?’

Penny nodded. ‘Just a bit stiff, that’s all. I – slipped in the bath last night and hurt my ribs.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Helen stuck her shovel into a drift of snow. ‘Let me see. Where does it hurt—’ She went to examine her, but Penny stepped away.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

‘But if you’re still in pain this morning you might have cracked a rib. It’ll need strapping.’

‘Really, I’m fine.’ Penny’s smile was suddenly over-bright. ‘No need to make a fuss.’

Helen frowned. There was something Willard wasn’t telling her, she was sure of it. But before she could ask any more, she was distracted by a soft thump behind her.

She swung round. Three very guilty faces stared back at her.

‘I hope you aren’t throwing snowballs?’ she warned. ‘You’re supposed to be clearing this lot, not messing about.’

They exchanged even more guilty looks. Then French spoke up. ‘Please, Sister, we weren’t throwing them at each other,’ she explained. ‘Perkins bet me I couldn’t hit that tree over there.’ She pointed to a plane tree in the distance. Its dark, skeletal branches were weighed down by snow.

‘And did you?’

‘No, Sister. It’s too far away.’

Helen narrowed her eyes on the tree. Then, still keeping it in her sights, she bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. She formed it into a ball between her gloved hands, took aim and then bowled the ball overarm. They all watched as it soared high through the air, before coming down in a graceful arc right on its target.

The students clapped their hands in an admiring smatter of applause. ‘Well played, Sister!’ Perkins cried.

‘I used to bowl for my brother when we played cricket,’ Helen said modestly, patting the snow off her gloves.

‘Are you sure it wasn’t just a lucky throw?’ Penny asked, leaning on her shovel.

‘Certainly not! I’ll prove it to you.’ Helen picked up another handful. ‘It’s all in the arm movement, you see. You have to make sure you give it just the right amount of spin . . .’ She skimmed the snowball through the air – just as the figures of Drs Adler and McKay came round the corner.

Her aim couldn’t have been better if she’d tried. Helen knew exactly what was going to happen, seconds before the snowball arced downwards and hit Dr McKay square in the face with a soft
thwump
.

The students couldn’t contain themselves. They doubled up, clutching each other for support, their hands pressed over their mouths to stop themselves from laughing out loud. Penny Willard had turned away, unable to watch. Helen felt the sudden, terrible urge to run away.

Why did it have to be him? If it had been anyone else . . .

Dr Adler gave a shout of laughter. ‘Good shot, Sister,’ he cried.

Helen rushed forward, flapping at Dr McKay with her hands, trying to brush off the snow. ‘Doctor, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean—’

‘Just leave it,’ he said, shrugging her off.

‘It was an accident, truly. If you come inside, I’ll fetch a towel.’

‘I said, leave it!’ His brown eyes blazed with anger. ‘I think you’ve done enough damage don’t you?’ he snapped.

Jonathan Adler was still laughing about it when David McKay went round for dinner that night.

‘You should have seen the look on your face! It was priceless,’ he chuckled.

David stared at his plate, his pride still prickling. ‘I really don’t think it was funny,’ he said.

‘You weren’t standing where I was!’

‘Stop teasing our guest, Jonathan,’ Esther Adler protested mildly, but David could see she was trying not to laugh herself.

‘Someone could have been hurt,’ he insisted.

‘Nonsense, it was only a snowball,’ Jonathan dismissed. ‘Although you’re lucky she didn’t throw anything worse. I might have been tempted to aim a rock at you, the way you’ve been treating her!’

‘Really?’ Esther turned to him. ‘Don’t you like this girl, David?’

‘It’s not a question of liking or disliking her,’ he said. ‘I’ve just expressed my concerns about her suitability as a sister, that’s all. And surely today should have proved I was right,’ he added.

‘Nonsense, she’s a first-rate nurse. And you know it,’ Jonathan said, pointing his fork accusingly at his guest across the dinner table.

‘I’ll admit she hasn’t been quite the unmitigated disaster I expected,’ David conceded. ‘But she’s still young and irresponsible, as she proved today. She sets a bad example to the younger nurses.’

‘Bad example, my eye. The nurses love her.’

‘No wonder, if she lets them cavort about in the snow. This chicken is wonderful, by the way, Esther,’ added David, changing the subject determinedly.

‘Would you like some more?’

‘Yes, please.’ He held up his plate for her to serve him. ‘I think you must be the best cook in East London,’ he told her.

Esther’s face coloured. ‘Oh, it’s nothing grand,’ she murmured.

‘Nothing grand? Eating here is like dining at the Dorchester compared to what our housekeeper serves up at the doctors’ house.’

‘You should get married, then you’d be able to eat like this every day,’ Jonathan said.

‘Oh, yes?’ Esther’s eyebrows shot up in mock reproof. ‘And is that the only reason you married me?’

‘You know it isn’t, my love.’

David saw the look that passed between them, and marvelled all over again at his friend’s new-found domestic bliss. He and Jonathan Adler had been close friends for years. As well as working together in the Casualty department, they had also lived in adjoining rooms in the doctors’ house. But two years ago, at the ripe old age of thirty-six, Jonathan had married Esther, a Jewish woman who ran a local garment factory with her elderly father. They now lived in a tall Edwardian house overlooking Victoria Park.

‘All the same, I do recommend married life,’ Jonathan said. ‘You really should try it, you know.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ David said, helping himself to the roast potatoes Esther offered.

‘I’m sure Esther could introduce you to a suitable woman, if you’re interested? You have a lot of friends who would love to meet an eligible doctor, don’t you, my dear?’

‘Stop it, Jonathan. David didn’t come here to be teased,’ she said with a glance at him.

‘Of course he did, he loves it. Besides, it makes a nice change from the lonely bachelors’ home!’

‘It was good enough for you once,’ David reminded him.

‘So it was. Until I found out what I was missing.’ Jonathan reached for his wife’s hand and kissed it.

‘Not everyone is as fortunate as you,’ David muttered.

‘That’s because you’re not looking hard enough. As I said, I’m sure Esther would be able to introduce you—’

‘Leave him alone, Jonathan,’ she warned again. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t need your help to find a wife.’

‘Thank you, Esther.’ David shot her a grateful look.

‘Besides,’ she went on, ‘when the right woman comes along, he’ll be the one doing the chasing. And he won’t need any assistance from us,’ she added firmly.

‘Well said.’ David nodded. ‘Now, can we change the subject, please?’

‘If we must,’ Jonathan agreed. ‘As I was saying, about Sister Dawson . . .’

‘Not again! I’d rather go back to discussing my love life, if that’s the only other topic on offer.’

‘I just don’t know what you’ve got against the girl, that’s all,’ Jonathan persisted. ‘Sister Dawson is the most conscientious nurse I’ve ever met.’

David stifled a sigh of irritation. ‘She makes endless mistakes.’

‘Only because you make her nervous.’

David put down his knife and fork with a clatter. ‘I make her nervous?’

‘Surely you must have noticed? The poor girl is a nervous wreck around you.’

‘I hardly think that’s true.’

‘She told me so herself.’

David stared at him, shocked into silence for a moment. ‘I had no idea . . .’ he murmured.

‘No, because you’re too busy barking at her to notice.’

David glanced at Esther. Her kind, plain face was appalled.

‘David would never do such a thing,’ she defended him. ‘He’s far too nice.’

‘You haven’t seen him,’ Jonathan said. ‘For some reason, poor Helen Dawson has got right under his skin.’

David stared down at his plate, troubled. He knew he’d been hard on Sister Dawson, but didn’t realise he’d made her so unhappy. It was a revelation to him.

‘Well, if she takes offence that easily, it just proves my point that she’s too young and inexperienced for the job,’ he defended. But even he had to admit his protests sounded very feeble. And he could see in his friends’ reproachful faces that they thought the same.

He thought about it all the way home. Jonathan was right, Helen Dawson had got under his skin, and he didn’t know why. At first, he’d had genuine concerns about her suitability for the post. And he thought he’d been proved right by her endless mistakes. But the revelation that he made her nervous had come as a complete surprise to him. Up until that moment he hadn’t realised how much his behaviour had affected her.

He should have known after that day when she’d confronted him in his consulting room. He could still remember her standing before him, quivering with rage and wounded pride. At the time, he’d felt completely justified in the way he’d treated her. But now he wasn’t so sure why he’d reacted so badly. It was almost as if he’d been looking for an excuse to let fly at her.

He was shocked by his own callousness, and even more so because he had been completely unaware of it. He prided himself on rarely losing his temper and being able to get on with everyone.

Everyone, it seemed, except Helen Dawson.

THE ARRIVAL OF
the Christmas tree was always a big occasion on the ward.

The porters brought it in just before visiting time was due to start on Sunday afternoon, and Frannie and her nurses set about decorating it, to a chorus of cat calls and general amusement from the patients.

‘Need a hand, Sister?’ joked one of the patients as he lay strung up in traction from head to foot like a broken puppet. ‘Just say the word and I’ll hop up that ladder and help you.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Wilson,’ Frannie answered with a smile, ‘but I think we can manage.’

‘Ooh, Nurse, I can see your stocking tops from here!’ another voice shouted from the other side of the ward.