Nightingales on Call (32 page)

At least he’s trying, Lucy thought. At least he hasn’t just retreated to his bedroom, pulled down the blinds and given up. ‘We don’t know that yet, Mother.’

‘It’s no use,’ Clarissa declared dramatically. ‘Why did your father have to be so foolish and greedy? Look at the mess he’s caused.’

You haven’t helped, Lucy thought. But then she remembered Gordon’s advice. They had to pull together.

‘Uncle Gordon will do all he can, but you’re right. We have to be realistic,’ she said. ‘Whatever happens, it’s likely we’ll lose this house, so we’ll need to find somewhere else to live.’

‘Lose this house?’ Her mother looked aghast. ‘But I’ve worked so hard on it. It’s taken me years to finish the alterations. I’ve designed every room myself, decorated it so beautifully . . .’

‘I know, Mother, but it belongs to the bank now,’ Lucy pointed out patiently. ‘As I said, we will have to find somewhere else.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You’re right, my dear, of course. Perhaps we could rent somewhere? There are some wonderful apartments close to Kensington Gardens. Or we could go abroad? Paris, or Switzerland—’

Lucy stared at her mother. She obviously still didn’t understand. ‘I don’t think we’ll have the money to go abroad, Mother,’ she told her gently.

Before her mother could reply, there was a knock on the door.

‘There is a visitor downstairs, your ladyship,’ Jameson announced. ‘A Mr Alderson.’

‘That evil man!’ Clarissa jumped to her feet. ‘How dare he set foot in this house after what he’s done? I’ll have words with him . . .’

‘Please, Mother, try to calm down.’ Lucy held on to her mother’s hand, guiding her back on to her chaise. ‘Let me talk to him. You stay here and rest.’

Leo was waiting in the library. Lucy was pleased to see he looked ill at ease, but it still took all her control not to fly at him and claw at his self-satisfied face.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked coldly. ‘Have you come to gloat? Or did you just want to see for yourself the devastation you’ve caused?’

‘I didn’t write that story,’ he blurted out.

Lucy laughed. ‘Are you suggesting it wrote itself?’

‘I know you won’t believe me, but it’s true.’ He looked downcast. ‘I swear, I didn’t write it.’

‘Then who did?’

‘I don’t know.’ Leo shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I guess someone must have overheard us talking in the pub. It was pretty crowded . . .’

‘Oh, please! You’re going to have to do better than that.’ Lucy shook her head. ‘I trusted you,’ she said. ‘I opened my heart to you—’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Looks like I was right, wasn’t I? You do have a way of winning women round. You certainly played me for a fool!’

‘Miss Lane. Lucy—’

‘I’d like you to leave now.’ Lucy reached for the bell pull.

‘But I want to help you. I came here to help—’

‘I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?’ Jameson appeared in the doorway. ‘Will you show Mr Alderson out, please, Jameson?’

‘Certainly, Miss Lucy.’

For a moment it seemed as if Leo Alderson wasn’t going to budge from his place by the fireplace. Lucy wondered how they were going to shift him if he decided not to leave.

But then he gave up. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you want. But I meant what I said, Lucy. I want to help you, if I can.’ His blue eyes met hers, without flinching. ‘You know where to find me if you need me.’

‘
HAVE YOU HEARD
the news about Lane?’ Katie could barely contain her excitement as she plonked herself down at the dining table opposite Dora.

Dora cast a sideways glance at Millie. ‘Not you, too?’ she sighed.

Everyone was talking about it. Even on the Children’s ward, the gossip had spread like wildfire that Lucy Lane’s wealthy father had disappeared owing millions.

‘One of my patients lent me his newspaper. Look!’ Katie thrust it under Dora’s nose. There, under the headline, was a photograph of Lucy with her parents at some society function or other, all dressed up and looking pleased with themselves. ‘How the mighty are fallen, eh?’

‘It says he’s been missing for some time, but his disappearance has only just come to light,’ Millie said, reading over Dora’s shoulder. ‘Poor Lane, I wonder how long she’s known?’

‘Poor Lane?’ Katie looked incredulous. ‘I don’t feel sorry for her at all. It serves her right for putting on all those airs and graces, making out her family is so grand and the rest of us are just peasants.’ She smiled. ‘Well, they’re not so grand now, are they?’

Millie looked shocked. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’

‘What if it is? She’s said some horrible things about us,’ Katie replied through a mouth full of mince. ‘Isn’t that right, Doyle?’ She looked at Dora expectantly.

Dora glanced up from the photograph of Lucy and her parents. Looking closer, she could see their smiles weren’t self-satisfied at all. They were brittle, as if they might shatter at any moment.

‘That’s no reason why we should make more trouble for her,’ she said.

Katie stared at her. ‘I can’t believe you of all people would say that. Not after the way she’s treated you over the past three years.’ She leaned forward. ‘Imagine it, Doyle. She’s been caught out at last. How can you say you don’t want to see her suffer?’

Dora looked at the photograph again. Katie was right, she should have been the first one cheering at Lucy’s fall from grace. But she couldn’t help thinking how she would feel if it were her family’s dark secrets displayed in the newspaper for all to see.

‘I reckon she’s suffering enough, without us adding to it.’

‘Doyle’s right,’ Millie said. ‘Lane’s probably feeling wretched, poor girl. She’s in our set. We should all look after each other.’

‘She never looks after me. Or you, either.’ Katie fixed her gaze on Dora.

Katie refused to walk back to the ward block with them, she was so bitterly disappointed.

‘You do realise she won’t keep it to herself, no matter what we say?’ Millie said.

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s all over the hospital anyway.’

Millie glanced sideways at Dora. ‘I suppose O’Hara has a point. Lane has been rather mean to everyone, particularly you. I don’t blame her for wanting to see her taken down a peg or two.’

‘There’s a difference between being taken down a peg and being shamed,’ Dora said. ‘Besides, she can’t help what her father’s done, can she?’

‘I know, but she does rather show off about them. She’s always talking about how wonderful her parents are.’

And now we know why, Dora thought. Poor Lucy probably made up all those stories to hide the truth from herself as well as everyone else.

Back on the ward, Sister Parry had been reshuffling her nurses again.

‘Since we don’t know for sure when Lane will return, Anderson will have to take over the Staff Nurse’s duties,’ she announced to the students gathered around her desk. ‘Doyle, you can special Ernest Pennington.’

Only because he’s practically recovered and doesn’t need nursing, Dora thought. She wondered how desperately short-staffed Sister Parry would have to be before she assigned Dora to the stand-in Staff Nurse’s post. Sister would probably give the job to Effie O’Hara before me, Dora decided.

But when she went to check on Ernest, she found he’d taken a turn for the worse. He lay sullenly against his pillows, staring out of the window.

‘Oh, Nurse, I don’t feel very well today,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a terrible headache, and I ache all over.’ He shivered dramatically. ‘And I’m hot. Boiling hot.’

‘Let me see.’ Dora put her hand on his forehead. ‘You don’t look flushed, and you’re not perspiring.’ She consulted his chart. ‘And your temperature was normal when Nurse Anderson checked it an hour ago.’

‘Perhaps I’m cold, then. Yes, that’s it. I’m freezing cold.’

‘In that case, I’ll fetch you a hot water bottle.’

Ernest pulled the covers up to his chin and eyed her over the top of them. ‘Do you think the rheumatic fever is coming back?’

‘I doubt it. You seem a lot better to me.’ She smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry, Ernest. You’re not going to get ill again. There’ll be nothing to stop you going home at the weekend.’

‘But how do you know I’m not going to get ill again?’ he insisted. ‘I told you, I have a headache. I should stay here, just to be on the safe side.’

She sent him a long look, then suddenly it dawned on her. ‘You don’t want to go home, do you?’

Ernest was silent for a moment. ‘I like it here,’ he admitted finally in a small voice, then added, ‘You won’t tell my mother, will you?’

‘Of course not.’ Dora shook her head. ‘But why don’t you want to go home? Most of the children here can’t wait to get back to see their family and friends.’

‘Yes, well, I haven’t got any friends, have I? I’m not allowed to play when I’m at home. My only friend is Archie, and he’s in here. That’s why I want to stay.’ He looked up at her with imploring eyes. ‘Can’t I stay, Nurse? Just for a few more weeks? You could write it on my chart, couldn’t you? Say I have a temperature?’

‘I think Sister would soon find out, then we’d both be in trouble,’ Dora said. ‘Besides, your parents will be looking forward to seeing you.’

‘No, they won’t.’ Ernest’s face was stubborn. ‘They’re still in Europe. There’s only Mrs Philpott and the rest of the staff at home. No one will even notice if I’m there or not.’

Dora regarded him with pity. She had never met a child who loved hospital before. No matter how humble their home, usually they still preferred to be with their loved ones than surrounded by strangers.

But poor Ernest didn’t have any loved ones.

‘I’m sorry, Ernest,’ she said. Then, to cheer him up, she added, ‘Tell you what, why don’t we play cards? You can show me that game Archie taught you the other day.’

Ernest’s plump face brightened. ‘Can Archie play too?’

Dora thought about it for a moment. ‘Perhaps if Sister takes a break he can sneak in for a minute or two,’ she said.

With Lucy Lane and Staff Nurse Ryan absent, the ward was a busy place, and it was a relief when Dora finally went off duty at nine o’clock.

She was so weary she could barely put one foot in front of the other on her way back to the nurses’ home. But as she passed the Porters’ Lodge, Mr Hopkins called out to her.

‘One minute, if you please, Nurse Doyle. I’ve got something for you.’

Dora stopped, her heart lifting. Had Nick written at last?

She’d almost given up on hearing from him. A week after he’d left she’d received a postcard from somewhere outside Southend, scrawled with a few lines to say he was doing all right, that life at the fair wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, and that she wasn’t to worry about him.

And after that – nothing.

Dora had read those few scrawled lines so many times they were imprinted on her memory. She knew Nick wouldn’t be one for writing long, flowery love letters, but she wished she could have heard more from him. She missed him terribly. Whenever a porter was summoned to the ward, she always looked up expecting Nick to come through those double doors.

Now she had no idea where he was, or how he was faring, and she could scarcely bear it.

In spite of her aching feet, she ran back to the Porters’ Lodge. Mr Hopkins eyed her with disapproval through his glass hatch. ‘You know you’re not supposed to run, don’t you? Only in case of fire or haemorrhage, isn’t that what you’re told?’

Dora ignored him. ‘You said there was a letter?’

‘Not a letter. A message. Now where is it . . .?’

He shuffled off to search through the cubby holes. Dora watched him, disappointment crashing over her. If it was a message, it wouldn’t be from Nick.

‘Ah, yes. Here it is.’

Mr Hopkins retrieved the note and handed it over. ‘Young girl brought it round. Said she was your sister. Mind, I could have told that straight away, what with her having the same red hair. Dead spit of you, she was.’

‘Bea?’ Dora frowned.

‘She didn’t give her name and I didn’t ask for it.’ Mr Hopkins squinted at the note, trying to read his writing. ‘Now, what does it say? I really need my glasses to read this . . .’

‘Shall I read it for you?’ Dora offered.

‘Certainly not!’ Mr Hopkins’ moustache bristled with offence. He held the note at arms’ length and peered at it. ‘She says she needs to see you urgently. She’ll wait for you by the park gates at nine o’clock.’ He looked up at her. ‘Well, I don’t hold with young girls hanging around parks at this time of night. That’s hardly what you’d call respectable, is it? Anything could happen—’

But Dora was already hurrying away, heading towards the hospital gates. As she went, she heard Mr Hopkins’ voice drifting on the air behind her.

‘Nurse Doyle! Come back at once. You know you’re not supposed to go out in your uniform. I shall tell Matron . . .’

Tell whoever you like, Dora thought, quickening her steps. If her younger sister had come all this way to ask to see her, then it must mean trouble. Dora’s mind was already racing, wondering what had happened. Had her grandmother been taken ill, or her mother? Had Lily gone into labour early?

By the time Dora saw her sister waiting for her beside the stone lions outside the park, her stomach was already churning, fearing the worst.

‘Dora!’ Bea ran across the road towards her.

‘Bea, what is it? What’s happened?’ Dora grabbed hold of her. ‘Has there been an accident? Is someone hurt?’

‘No!’ Her sister gave a puzzled smile. ‘Everyone’s fine. Nanna’s moaning about her lumbago as usual, but that’s all.’

‘Oh, thank God!’ Dora put her hand to her chest, feeling the flutter of her heart. ‘You really had me worried there. When your message said it was urgent—’

‘It
is
urgent,’ Bea said. ‘But it’s not bad news.’ She grinned. ‘It’s good news, Dor. Really good news.’

Dora sighed. ‘Go on, then. What’s this good news that you can’t wait to share?’

Bea lowered her eyes. ‘I’ve got a secret,’ she said.

‘You?’ Dora laughed. ‘You couldn’t keep a secret if you tried!’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, see?’ Bea snapped. ‘I’ve been keeping this secret for months now. I wanted to tell everyone the minute I found out, but he said it would be better to keep quiet. Make it more of a surprise, see? But he reckoned I could tell you, because he knows you can keep a secret too.’