Nightingales on Call (17 page)

Ernest was reading a book, but Dora could tell from the way his eyes skipped over the pages that he wasn’t really enjoying it. He looked up sharply when she walked in.

‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

Dora pasted a smile on her face. ‘I’m sorry, Ernest, did you want something? If you do, you only have to ring the bell, you know.’

‘You’re not supposed to leave me alone. That’s your job,’ he reminded her.

‘Heavens, Ernest, you were on your own for five minutes! Besides, you’re not the only patient I have to look after, you know,’ Dora said. ‘We do have other children on the ward.’

‘Yes, but my mother and father are paying you to look after
me
!’ Petulance made his fat cheeks wobble.

Dora took a deep breath. He’s just a little boy, she told herself. Being ill was bound to make him bad-tempered.

She turned her attention to the airmail envelope lying on his bedside locker. ‘Have you had a letter from your parents this morning? How lovely,’ she said. ‘Are they still in Europe?’

Ernest stared at the letter. ‘My father is playing with the Bavarian State Orchestra now,’ he said in a flat voice.

‘I expect you miss them, don’t you?’

Ernest looked at her, his face sullen. ‘I’d like a drink of water,’ he said.

‘Of course.’

Dora felt a twinge of pity for him as she poured his drink. With his parents away, Ernest’s only visitor had been an elderly housekeeper. His mother sent letters, but they only seemed to leave him even more fretful and demanding than ever.

It was a shame because one of the privileges of being a private patient was that parents were allowed to visit whenever they chose. Unlike the children on the main ward, whose parents could only visit once a month.

He needed cheering up, she decided. And reading that dull book wasn’t going to do it.

‘I’ve got something else for you.’

‘What is it?’ Ernest asked sullenly, not looking at her.

‘This.’ Dora took the comic out from under the bib of her apron and put it down on the quilt in front of him.

Ernest stared at it for a moment. Then he turned his face away.

‘I’m not allowed to read comics,’ he declared. ‘My mother doesn’t like it.’

Your mother isn’t here, is she? Dora thought. She’s off, gallivanting round Europe. ‘I’m sure your mother wouldn’t mind, just this once?’ she coaxed. ‘I expect she’d like you to have something to cheer you up. I’ll put it in your locker for now, shall I? You might decide you want to read it later.’

She busied herself, checking his temperature, pulse and respiration, straightening his bedclothes and making sure he was comfortable. All the while Ernest’s gaze was fixed longingly on his locker.

‘Where did it come from?’ he asked finally.

‘Archie, one of the other boys on the ward, wanted to lend it to you. But it’s his pride and joy, so please be careful with it.’

Ernest looked at her blankly. ‘Then why would he lend it to me?’

‘He thought you might be lonely and need cheering up, I suppose.’

Ernest frowned, taking this in. But before he could speak, Lucy appeared at the door.

‘I’ll take over now,’ she said. ‘Sister says the tonsils are ready to go down to Theatre.’

Thank you for looking after my patient, Doyle. Not at all, Lane, it was my pleasure,
Dora thought to herself. It really wouldn’t hurt Lucy to smile or be polite once in a while. She wondered how Lane got on with Ernest. They probably snapped at each other all day long.

‘I’m on my way.’ As Dora headed for the door she looked back to see Ernest’s gaze still fixed on the locker. She smiled to herself, wondering how long he would resist before he asked for the comic. Pompous prig he might be, but Ernest Pennington was still a little boy.

Her smile died when she closed the door and found Nick there, waiting with an apprehensive-looking boy in a wheelchair. Dora’s brother Peter, who worked alongside Nick as a porter, stood behind him with a little girl in another wheelchair.

‘All right, Sis?’ he greeted Dora cheerfully.

‘Hello, Pete.’ She avoided looking at Nick as she picked up the patients’ notes and led the way to the lifts. They hadn’t spoken to each other since their argument the previous week and Dora sensed he was doing his best to avoid her, just as she was him.

She had been so angry that night. But it was fear more than anything that had made her flare up at him the way she had. She hated the idea of him going off with the travelling fair, standing up in a boxing booth for other people’s amusement, like a tethered bear in a circus. Nick was a real boxer, he had talent and he took pride in his training. She couldn’t bear to think of him demeaning himself, especially not for her sake. She had meant what she’d said; she would rather never marry him than see him brought so low.

But instead of explaining how she felt, she’d let her temper get the better of her and taken out her anger on him. She knew she’d hurt him, and she was sorry for that.

But it wasn’t all her fault, she thought as she watched Nick standing rigidly beside her, his gaze fixed on the doors as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

He was the one who’d slammed the door in her face, told her he didn’t want to be with her any more. But getting any apology out of Nick Riley would be like getting blood out of a stone, or a smile out of Sister Parry.

They made an awkward group as they went down in the lift together. Peter seemed oblivious as he chatted to the children, singing silly songs and making faces and turning their tears to wobbly smiles.

‘You’re a natural with them,’ Dora remarked.

‘I should be, all the time I’ve spent keeping you and the other kids entertained!’ Peter grinned. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to practise for when I’ve got a nipper of my own.’

He sounded so proud when he said it, Dora was pleased for him. ‘You’ll make a good dad,’ she said.

‘I hope so.’ His freckled face flushed with pride. ‘I know I’ve made some mistakes in the past, but I’ve settled down now, I know what’s important. And that’s my missus and my kid.’

The lift doors opened and Nick barged through them, pushing the wheelchair ahead of him like a battering ram.

Peter made a face at Dora. ‘Me and my big mouth,’ he said. ‘Here I am, going on and on about the blessings of married life, and I forgot that him and Ruby ain’t together any longer.’

Dora didn’t reply as she walked down the basement corridor towards Theatre. Peter had no idea about her and Nick. Only her grandmother and mother knew her secret.

‘He’s been in such a rotten mood since Ruby found herself another fella,’ Peter mused. ‘I expect that’s why he’s decided to up sticks and go off with this travelling fair, too. Daft idea if you ask me. Old Hopkins has been trying to talk him out of it ever since he found out, but Nick’s dead set on going. Reckons there’s nothing for him here any more.’

Dora looked down at the notes to hide her blushing face, and said nothing.

‘Personally, I can’t wait for him to go, the way he’s carrying on at the minute,’ her brother went on. ‘He’s like a bear with a sore head, he really is. The sooner Nick Riley leaves, I reckon the happier we’ll all be!’

‘
I SAY, YOU
there!’

Jess didn’t hear the voice at first over the drone of the vacuum cleaner. She was too busy trying to finish the landings so she could get away in time for her night class at the Institute.

Then, suddenly, the vacuum cleaner died. Jess turned around to see one of the probationers, Anna Padgett, standing before her with the plug in her hand.

‘I’m talking to you,’ she said.

I’ve got a name, Jess thought as she straightened up. Not that this girl ever used it. As far as Anna was concerned, Jess was always ‘you there’.

‘What did you do that for?’ she asked.

‘You’re making far too much noise,’ Anna replied. ‘Some of us are trying to work.’

Jess glanced past her at the faces gathered around the doorway to Anna’s room. Effie’s was among them.

‘I can’t help that. I’ve got my own work to do.’

Anna sent Jess a withering look. She was tall and solidly built with a square, pugnacious face. ‘Your work isn’t nearly as important as ours.’

‘You tell that to Sister Sutton. She’ll have my guts for garters if she finds a speck of dust in this hall.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to do it later,’ Anna said dismissively. She started to walk away, but Jess stood her ground.

‘I don’t take orders from you,’ she said.

Anna turned slowly, a look of disbelief on her face. ‘What did you say?’

‘I answer to Sister Sutton,’ Jess replied, meeting the girl’s shocked gaze. ‘You can’t order me about.’

Anna’s eyes bulged with outrage, and for a moment Jess thought she was going to fly at her with sheer temper. She braced herself, hands balling into fists, ready to defend herself.

‘Leave her be, Padgett,’ one of the other girls put in from the doorway. ‘We’d more or less finished studying anyway.’

But Anna stood rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on Jess. ‘How dare you answer me back?’ she hissed. ‘I’ve a good mind to report you to Sister Sutton.’

Jess folded her arms across her chest. ‘Go on, then.’

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but Effie got in first.

‘I thought we were going out tonight?’ she pleaded. ‘We’ll be late.’

‘You’re right.’ Anna glared at Jess. ‘She’s not worth wasting my time on.’

She tossed the plug on to the floor and stalked back to her room. As the door closed behind her, Jess caught a glimpse of Effie’s face, framed by a cloud of dark hair. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, before Anna ordered her to close the door.

Jess pushed the plug back into the socket again, burning with indignation. It wasn’t the first time Anna Padgett had picked on her. She was always pulling her up about something, ordering her about as if Jess were her personal maid. And Anna usually made sure she did it in front of her friends, knowing there was nothing Jess could do about it.

She tried to push it from her mind as she hauled the vacuum cleaner up to the top landing. If she didn’t hurry she would miss her bus, and she didn’t want to be late. Her School Certificate exams were only a matter of weeks away, and even though her teachers were sure she would pass easily, Jess didn’t want to take any chances.

She didn’t want to miss seeing Sam either. She smiled as she thought about how he would be waiting for her on the corner so they could walk to the Institute together. And then, after their classes, they would head down to the café for a cup of tea and a bun. She would never call it courting, but it had become a pleasant little ritual for both of them.

But it seemed as if fate didn’t want her to make her date this evening as the growl of the vacuum cleaner changed to a protesting whine. Jess switched it off with a sigh of frustration. Now she would have to empty it, and by the time she’d carried it down three flights of stairs to the dustbin and back up, she would have missed her bus for sure.

Unless . . .

She eyed the window. If she tipped the contents out she could scoop them up and put them in the bin on her way out, and no one would be any the wiser. It was a risk, as the window overlooked the front of the building. If Sister Sutton returned from the dining room and saw her . . .

Before she had time to change her mind, Jess threw open the window and tipped the contents of the cleaner out.

Straight away she heard a soft
thwump
below, followed by a squawk of indignation. She froze, her hands on the window frame, ready to close it. Oh, no. It couldn’t be. Surely not . . .

She braced herself to look down. Below her a group of girls stood coughing and spluttering, fanning dust from their faces as they gathered around in a tight knot. As the cloud of dust started to clear, Jess saw what – or rather who – they were gathered around.

She clapped her hand over her mouth and ran for the door.

Outside, the girls were brushing Anna Padgett down. But she still looked like a ghost, her clothes and face covered in dust, her brown hair turned ashy grey like a powdered wig. Jess stopped in the doorway and stared, caught between horror and the desperate need to laugh.

‘It’s not that bad, Padgett, honestly,’ one of the girls was saying, covering her mouth as she dusted off her friend’s shoulder.

‘Not that bad? Look at me!’ Anna Padgett roared back.

Jess forced herself to step forward on legs which suddenly felt as if they didn’t belong to her.

‘Here, let me help,’ she said.

Anna whirled round to confront her, face taut with fury. ‘You!’ she screamed. ‘You did this! This is all your fault!’

‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re not! You did it deliberately.’

‘I didn’t, I swear.’ Jess moved forward. ‘Here, let’s get you out of those clothes. I can wash them, make them as good as new . . .’

She reached forward, but Anna lashed out at her, knocking her back against the wall. ‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ she cried.

‘Steady on, Padgett,’ Effie said. ‘She said she was sorry.’

‘Sorry’s not good enough!’ Anna’s eyes gleamed with spite through the dusty grey of her face. ‘You’ve done it now,’ she warned Jess, voice shaking with rage. ‘I’ll get you sacked for this, you see if I don’t!’

Jess’ stomach plummeted with fear. ‘But I said it was an accident!’ she pleaded.

‘What is going on?’ They all looked round as Sister Sutton loomed into view. ‘I heard squawking from the other side of the courtyard. Would someone please tell me what—’ She saw Anna and stopped dead. ‘Good gracious, Padgett, what have you done to yourself?’

‘It was her, Sister.’ Anna pointed at Jess. ‘She – she tipped dust over my head!’

Sister Sutton stared at Jess, her jowly face quivering. ‘Is this true?’

‘It was an accident, Sister.’

‘No, it wasn’t!’ Anna shouted. ‘You’re a nasty, vicious little . . .’

‘Nurse, please!’ Sister Sutton held up one hand to silence her. She turned to Jess. ‘What exactly happened?’

Jess felt everyone’s eyes on her as she explained. ‘I didn’t think it would do any harm,’ she finished. ‘I didn’t know anyone was going to be walking under the window at that very moment.’