Home for Christmas (19 page)

Sarah Stacey made them tea and insisted they eat a slice of fruitcake.

‘Your grandmother made it this afternoon,’ she said to Agnes. ‘It’s still warm – well, warmish.’

From her spot sitting in a fireside chair, Ellen Proctor, Agnes’s grandmother, opened one eye.

‘So what have you been up to, our Agnes?’

‘What makes you think I’ve been up to anything?’ countered Agnes, her mouth full of cake. ‘I’ve been with Nurse Lydia Miller here, helping her get Mrs Allen home. She’s been at the hospital after fainting on the steps outside.’

‘Has she indeed?’ said her grandmother, now sitting straighter in her chair, all signs of drowsiness gone. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said to Lydia before turning her attention back to her granddaughter. ‘So what was it all about?’

‘I told you. She fainted and was taken to hospital.’

‘You said she fainted on the steps outside the hospital,’ Ellen Proctor pointed out, her narrowed eyes pinpointed on Agnes.

Agnes shrugged, her chin almost disappearing into her collar. ‘I don’t know. Lydia knows more about it than I do,’ she said. ‘I drove the ambulance. That’s what I did,’ she said, her eyes shining with delight. ‘I’m good at it. Really good at it.’

Lydia knew immediately what that look meant.

‘I’ll ask at the hospital. I think a female ambulance driver would be really useful.’

As they talked it through, Lydia felt Ellen Proctor’s eyes on her, still narrowed, almost as though she were trying to see beyond the intelligent eyes and into the depths of her brain.

‘Now we’d better get this ambulance back to the hospital.’ Lydia glanced at the mantel clock. ‘It’s late. I think you might have to stay the night with me at the hospital,’ she said to Agnes.

Agnes jumped at the idea.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Proctor,’ Lydia said before leaving.

‘I suppose she bin to see the flower seller again,’ said Ellen Proctor, a sly, knowing look in her small, spangling eyes. ‘Edith Allen. I suppose she bin to get the flower seller to put ’er right.’

Startled by both her searching gaze and the reference to a flower seller, Lydia asked who this person was. ‘The woman must be stopped before she kills someone,’ she stated.

‘Bah,’ exclaimed Ellen Proctor. ‘What else do you expect a poor woman to do? You don’t know enough.’

Lydia realised Ellen Proctor was suggesting she was being naive, when in fact she felt quite sure of herself, confident of the difference between right and wrong.

‘It’s against the law,’ said Lydia, suddenly feeling she didn’t belong here, was nothing but an interfering outsider. Again, the outsider.

Ellen Proctor shifted in her chair so that she was sitting upright, her eyes fixed on this neatly uniformed nurse with her clean face and bright grey eyes.

‘I s’pose Edith was ’avin’ another and did what any woman with too many mouths to feed ’as to do. She sent for the only ’elp there is for a woman. And don’t look at me like that, girl. Nobody can know ’ow it is unless they’ve been through it. It’s an ’ard decision and that’s a fact, but better that than giving away yer baby to Granny Smith.’

Lydia was knocked totally off guard.

‘Who is this Granny Smith?’

‘Well, she ain’t a bleedin’ apple, that’s fer sure!’ Mrs Proctor snapped, her jaw clamping shut so sharply a loose tooth flew out into her lap.

‘Well, would you look at that,’ she said, pulling the tooth out of the fold of her skirt where it had landed and eyeing it as though it were a lump of gold. ‘At this rate all I’ll be eating is porridge and milk sops!’

Nothing more was said about the flower seller, or about Granny Smith. Sarah Stacey had steered the conversation away to discussion about finding a job Agnes would really enjoy.

‘Don’t get your hopes up too high,’ Sarah Stacey said to her daughter. ‘One step at a time and think of the future. What do you think, Lydia?’

Lydia’s thoughts immediately went to Robert. ‘I think you should grab the opportunity if it comes along.’

Something flashed briefly in Agnes’s eyes and then was gone. It occurred to Lydia that Agnes already knew about the attraction between her and Robert.

‘I think it’s worth me asking at the hospital to see if there’s a driving job available. I for one think it’s a great idea to have a female ambulance driver. Women sometimes prefer another woman to be close by, especially when it comes to babies.’

Whilst in that warm, cosy living room, she promised she would do all she could to get Agnes the job she wanted. She promised once again on the drive back to the hospital.

Settled down with Lydia in her room at the hospital, Agnes talked excitedly about her prospects for half the night.

Lydia listened and made the right noises where needed. In her mind, however, she was thinking about finding the flower seller and what she could do to stop her aborting other babies. Eventually she told Agnes she planned to find the woman and have her brought to justice.

Agnes fell into silence as she thought it through. ‘You’re not Sherlock Holmes, Lydia, and besides, it’s as my gran says, women who seek Daisy’s help are at their wits’ end; too many mouths to feed. You should leave things alone. Who knows when one of us might be in the same predicament ourselves?’

Lydia clamped her lips tightly together before saying, ‘I can’t see that ever happening. I won’t let it happen.’

‘Goodnight,’ said Agnes.

Lydia heard her turn over in bed and knew Agnes disapproved, but the law was the law. Something had to be done.

April, 1914

Lydia smiled up at Robert. ‘You’re going to announce it?’

‘The time is ripe. Have you told your father?’

She shook her head. They had been discussing getting married since shortly after Sir Avis’s death. Now Robert was forcing the issue, desperately wanting to declare their intentions.

‘They’ll say we hardly know each other,’ said Lydia, though she felt as though she’d known him all her life.

‘What they say is irrelevant,’ he responded. ‘It’s up to us to decide when the time is ripe. It’s just that we reached that time a lot sooner than most people do.’

‘I think,’ said Lydia, looking down at her hands, ‘that we should tell my father together. Kill two birds with one stone so to speak.’

‘I’ve written to my parents in Australia. It’ll be a while before I get a reply. In the meantime, perhaps we could meet at my aunt’s house in Belgravia?’

‘As a surprise to my father?’

‘As a surprise to my aunt too,’ he responded.

It came as no surprise to Lydia when her father asked her to accompany him on a visit to Lady Julieta Ravening.

‘The town house in Belgravia of course, not Heathlands. Robert will be there. I’m hoping he might have persuaded Lady Ravening to avail herself of my services. And anyway, he’ll be overjoyed to see you.’

‘Of course he will,’ thought Lydia, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she smiled up at him.

This was to be a very special occasion. In her mind she was already running her fingers over the dresses in her wardrobe, heart racing as she sought the right one, the best one to wear.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

Lydia’s mind jumped back to reality.

‘I did, Father. I think Robert probably has been doing exactly that, singing your praises to his aunt. Why else would he have invited us?’

Her father was leaning on the mantelpiece, one hand hanging carelessly down.

‘Yes,’ he said, thoughtfully, the other hand resting on his waist, still trim despite his advancing years. ‘Yes. I think that is exactly what he has done. What a corker of a chap. Better than that other fellah who locked you in that rocky pile, don’t you think?’

‘I like Robert. I like him a lot.’

Lydia eyed his high forehead, the straight nose and eyes that darkened when he was thinking deep thoughts. Her father was still a handsome man, who had not gone to fat and had never taken much notice of the latest fashions. Medicine had always mattered most to him and yet today he was well dressed, quite sleek in fact. His jacket was grey, his waistcoat dark, his shirt very white and his trousers very black. They looked new.

Where had the new clothes come from and when had he acquired his new tailor who made things fit him so well? It wasn’t just about new clothes; when was it he’d begun smiling more? He’d always been such a serious man, content to stay at home, studying his medical books or writing some piece on a particular surgical procedure that few had yet undertaken.

She tried to pin down the time when his expression had changed. When had he first started singing in the morning? When had he first flicked his newspaper open at breakfast time, smiling at the articles, even laughing aloud and declaring that some of what was written was quite preposterous.

The house in Belgravia Square had a pediment above the door supported on two stout white pillars. An apron of black and white tiles lay before a brass step, so polished it reflected the sky. Lydia recalled coming here and meeting Agnes for the first time.

Robert came striding across the hall to meet them, his hand held out to Lydia’s father, his teeth flashing white in a smile of welcome. He was wearing his newly acquired uniform of an aviator in the newly formed Royal Flying Corps. Flying was all that Robert had ever wanted to do.

‘My dear Sir. I am so glad you could make it. Lydia,’ he added, his eyes gentling as he gazed at her, ‘I’m so glad you could come. My aunt has organised tea in the drawing room. Cakes and sandwiches too, I notice. I’m sure they’re good.’

Lydia didn’t want them to be good. Lady Ravening had hired a new cook, but not before dismissing Agnes’s mother.

Light flooded into the drawing room from the garden at the rear of the house.

Lady Julieta was sitting in a chair at the side of the fireplace. Light coming in from the window picked up the details on the brass implements heaped in the grate: a pair of bellows, tongs, a brush, a dustpan and a poker decorated at one end with the head of an Indian chief.

Robert sat next to Lydia. Lydia’s father remained standing. Reading his body language, Lydia surmised it was his way of asserting himself, looking professional at all times, even if he wasn’t feeling that way.

They made small talk whilst pouring tea and eating the cakes and sandwiches.

Lady Julieta ate like a bird. ‘I have a delicate disposition. It is what comes of living in a damp climate and wed to a dissolute man. I will retain your services whilst it pleases me to do so. But, I warn you, I am very demanding and insist on the very best of medical care from a physician of impeccable reputation – both personal and professional I might add. I do not like scandals, Doctor Miller. I do not indulge in behaviour likely to result in a scandal. I trust you too behave in an appropriate manner.’

‘I am at your service, your ladyship,’ said Eric, bowing slightly from the waist.

‘As regards the other matter of your daughter and Robert, well, what can I say …?’

Lydia looked at her father’s face. She’d said nothing of Robert’s proposal because she was still coming to terms with it herself.

‘I’m sorry?’ Her father’s jaw dropped as his gaze swooped to each person in turn before he beamed with pleasure.

‘It appears my nephew wishes to marry your daughter. My sister-in-law and my brother are abroad, but they have been informed. Not that Robert can be dissuaded and he is over twenty-one.’

‘So. It seems we’re engaged,’ said Lydia, her eyes sparkling, and feeling the happiest she had ever felt in her life.

Robert gazed down into those sparkling eyes feeling as though he might explode with joy.

‘Only a very short engagement. I want us to marry as soon as possible so that you can join me wherever I happen to be posted.’

‘Delighted!’ boomed Lydia’s father. Lady Julieta gave no sign of what her opinion might be. Not that Robert and Lydia cared what anyone else thought. They were too wrapped up in each other.

They excused themselves from the doctor and Lady Julieta. Robert led her into another room. There was a piano in front of the window, pale cream curtains draping in big swathes on to the floor.

They kissed long and hard, and in that moment, Lydia actually believed that she could leave her vocation and follow him all over the world. There was just one thing that stopped her. She wanted to find the flower seller, the woman who aborted babies.

‘Robert, I don’t want to give up nursing just yet.’

His expression was one of disbelief.

‘But why not? You won’t need to earn money. You’ll be my wife.’

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. ‘You’ll be mine. All mine. I told you it was love at first sight, didn’t I?’

Lydia could do nothing to stop the wave of different emotions and thoughts that suddenly swept over her. Was she being foolish to think there really was such a thing as love at first sight? She hadn’t thought so. She’d really felt a great surge of feeling, as though her heartbeat had doubled and wings grown out of her heels. She felt like flying – without the benefit of an aeroplane.

‘Can’t we be engaged for a while until I feel ready to leave nursing?’ she asked timidly, her cheek against his neck so that he surely felt her lips moving.

‘I want you to be my wife,’ he said to her, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘I don’t want to share you with a ward full of aching patients. I want you to ease the ache I’m feeling, this pain, right here,’ he said, patting in the general area of his heart. ‘Feel my heartbeat,’ he said, placing her hand on his chest. ‘Take my pulse,’ he added, pulling back his cuff and placing his fingers on that part of his wrist where he thought his pulse might be.

Lydia laughed and moved her fingers to where his blood throbbed through his veins. She loved this man and had no wish to hurt him or turn down his proposal. However, she had inherited an independent streak from somewhere. The marriage had to be equal in all things, including her profession.

‘I love being a nurse. I need time to adjust to this.’

The arms that had held her so tightly slackened and the small frown deepened.

‘You need time to think about marrying me?’