Nightingales on Call (33 page)

Dora went very still. ‘He?’ she said. ‘Who’s he, Bea?’

‘That’s it,’ Bea replied. She was grinning from ear to ear now, fit to burst. ‘That’s my surprise.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘You can come out now,’ she called.

Dora looked up and saw a familiar figure emerging from around the corner.

‘Hello, Dora love,’ said Alf Doyle.

‘
BET YOU’RE SURPRISED,
ain’t you?’ Bea grinned. ‘You lot are always saying I can’t keep a secret, but I can – see?’

Dora was hardly aware of her sister. All her attention was focused on her stepfather.

He had hardly changed in three years. His greasy black hair was threaded with more grey, but that hulking body and fleshy face were the same as she saw in her nightmares.

She felt bile rising in her throat and it was all she could do not to be sick.

‘What’s he doing here?’ she heard herself say.

‘Dad met me from school a few months ago, said he wanted to see me.’ Bea beamed up at her stepfather. ‘You missed me, didn’t you, Dad?’

‘I missed all my girls.’ Alf took a step towards Dora, his arms held out. ‘Ain’t you got a kiss for your old dad, then?’

Dora backed away. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you dare come near me!’

‘Dora!’ Bea’s voice was hurt. ‘Don’t be like that. Dad’s back – ain’t you pleased?’

‘It’s all right, Bea,’ Alf said. ‘I don’t blame your sister for being angry. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But that’s why I’m back, see? I want to make up for what I’ve done. I want a second chance.’

I’m going mad, Dora thought. I must be. This is all a terrible dream, and any minute now I’m going to wake up.

‘And you honestly think you can just crawl back as if nothing’s happened?’ she said.

‘Oh, no, love.’ Alf did a good job of looking contrite. ‘I know I hurt your mum too much for that. I don’t expect nothing from her, honest. That’s why I asked to meet Bea in secret. I was too ashamed to face my Rosie, after what I’ve done to her.’

He lowered his gaze. Anyone else might have been fooled, but not Dora. She knew from bitter experience how low and conniving Alf could be.

He’d certainly managed to fool Bea.

‘He’s being daft, ain’t he, Dor?’ she said, putting her arm through his. ‘I’ve tried to tell him Mum would take him back if he wanted. We could be a family again. Wouldn’t that be smashing?’

Alf smiled shakily. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted, love.’

Dora looked at him, his hand resting on her innocent young sister’s, and felt sick. ‘Over my dead body,’ she said.

‘Dora!’ Bea turned on her.

‘Shhh, love. I’ve told you, I don’t blame your sister for being angry. She’s only doing it to protect your mum. Ain’t that right, Dora? Anyway, she’s probably right,’ Alf added mournfully. ‘Your mum would never have me back. Not after I abandoned her.’

‘Yes, she would! Take no notice of Dora. She don’t even live with us. She ain’t in charge. I don’t even know why we had to tell her,’ said Bea, shooting her sister a sour look. ‘All she ever does is spoil everything.’

Alf’s gaze fixed on Dora, pinning her. ‘Your sister likes a secret,’ he said softly.

Dora’s legs buckled, but she forced herself to face him. He was never going to see her cowering and scared ever again. She was more angry than frightened, angry that he still had so much power over her.

‘Go,’ she said. ‘Go back to wherever it is you came from. I don’t want you anywhere near my family, do you understand?’

Alf sighed. ‘If that’s what you really want—’

He turned to go, but Bea ran after him. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Don’t go, Dad! You belong with us. We need you. Mum needs you. Please stay. I’ll talk to Mum, I promise.’

‘Let him go,’ Dora said, holding on to Bea’s sleeve as Alf shuffled down the street.

Bea wriggled free of her grasp, shooting her a filthy look. ‘I hope you’re happy now?’ she spat. ‘You’re the one keeping this family apart, Dora. We’d all be happy if it wasn’t for you!’

‘Bea!’

‘Get lost!’

Dora watched her sister running down the street after Alf. He wouldn’t go far, Dora thought. He’d get to the next corner, and then he’d let the girl persuade him to stay.

She fought the urge to run after her sister. Bea would never understand because she didn’t have the same fear of him that Dora did. Alf had never laid a hand on her youngest sister. Bea had never known what it was like to lie awake at night, dry-mouthed with fear, dreading the sound of his footsteps outside her door.

And Dora could never explain. Because to do so would mean betraying a secret she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.

She was still very shaken when she returned to her room at the student nurses’ home. Millie was there, sitting up in bed, poring over her textbooks. She looked up at Dora in surprise.

‘Are you all right, Doyle? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure? You’re trembling.’

‘I said, I’m all right!’ Dora snapped. She saw her friend’s hurt look, and regretted it instantly. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

‘You should see Sister Sutton for an aspirin.’

‘I’ll be right as rain when I’ve had a good night’s sleep.’

But she knew that would never happen. Dora lay awake most of the night, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, too terrified to go to sleep in case the nightmare came back. Why had she ever imagined she had overcome her fear? It was still there, lurking in the shadows, just waiting to pounce.

Everything would be all right, she tried to tell herself. Her mother would never take Alf Doyle back in a million years.

Dora desperately wished Nick was there. She knew she could never bring herself to tell him about Alf, but she felt safer when he was around.

‘I hate to ask, but you and Mother have worked on so many charity committees together, and I know she considers you a great friend. It wouldn’t be for long, but she really needs somewhere to stay, just until we’re back on our feet . . . I see. No, I appreciate that . . . Thank you, anyway . . .’

Lucy put the telephone receiver down, just as her godfather entered the library.

‘Another rejection?’ he said.

Lucy nodded. ‘They would love to help, but with things being as they are . . .’ she sighed. ‘It’s strange how people who couldn’t wait to come to our parties and spend the summer with us in Antibes have suddenly become unavailable now we’re broke.’

‘There’s nothing like a scandal to help you find out who your real friends are,’ Gordon agreed.

‘We don’t seem to have any friends, real or otherwise.’ Lucy stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. She had been calling her parents’ friends all morning, begging them for help. ‘It’s not as if I’m asking for charity. I only want to find Mother somewhere temporary to live, until our business affairs are sorted out.’

Gordon patted her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry all this has fallen to you, my dear.’

‘It’s all right. I can’t see Mother doing it anyway.’ It was nearly noon and Clarissa was still in her room, asleep with a silk mask over her eyes.

‘I just wish the bank had been more amenable.’

‘I know,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I realised they would want their money, but I didn’t think they would spring into action quite so quickly.’ She gazed past Gordon towards the hall, where a pair of removal men in brown overalls were shifting the Chippendale cabinet out of the door. ‘I daresay the neighbours are having a field day, aren’t they?’

‘I’m sure they’re very sympathetic.’

Lucy laughed. ‘Sympathetic? I doubt it, Uncle Gordon. Be honest, how many of them are watching and thinking it’s about time the upstart Lanes got their comeuppance?’

Jameson appeared in the doorway. It was strange to see him in his everyday suit and not the black tailcoat he usually wore.

‘I’ll be off now, Miss Lucy,’ he said gruffly.

She rose and went over to him. ‘Are you the last to leave?’

‘Yes, Miss. There’s only Higgins left, and she and I are sharing a taxi to the station.’

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Jameson had been the family butler since she was a small child. She couldn’t imagine not seeing his face at the front door, or hearing his footsteps in the hall.

She took a deep breath. Her mother would be most disappointed in her if she lost control now. Lucy went to the library desk and picked up an envelope. ‘I’ve written you a cheque in lieu of notice.’

‘Oh, no, Miss Lucy.’ Jameson shook his head. ‘I couldn’t take it. Not with things being as they are.’

‘Nonsense, Jameson, we owe it to you.’ She tried to press the envelope into his hand but he wouldn’t take it.

‘No, Miss Lucy, it wouldn’t be right.’ He straightened his shoulders, and Lucy saw tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. ‘I don’t want any money. I’m just sorry I have to leave in these circumstances.’

‘I’m sorry too, Jameson. But we couldn’t ask you to go on working for nothing, could we?’ Lucy forced a bright smile.

‘I suppose not, Miss Lucy.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Will you say goodbye to your mother for me? Please convey my best wishes, and tell her I hope it’s not long before your – situation improves.’

‘Thank you, Jameson.’ Lucy held herself rigid, listening to his footsteps crossing the hall for the last time. And then the front door closed and he was gone.

Lucy let out the breath she’d been holding. ‘Well, I don’t think our situation can get much worse!’ she said. ‘It’s too bad of Mother not to come down and say goodbye. Jameson is practically part of the family.’

‘You mustn’t be too hard on Clarissa,’ Gordon said. ‘She’s finding it all very difficult.’

‘
She’s
finding it difficult? She hasn’t been on the telephone all morning, begging for a roof over her head.’ There was a crash in the hall as one of the removal men dropped a tea chest full of porcelain. ‘Speaking of which, I suppose I’d better make some more calls before those men take the telephone away too!’

Her mother came downstairs just before lunch. At least she had managed to dress and make herself look presentable, Lucy was relieved to see.

‘Have you had a nice rest, Mother?’ she asked.

‘As if anyone could rest with such a racket going on!’ Clarissa shuddered delicately. She looked around at the half-empty room. ‘How depressingly bare it all looks, now the bank has finished taking its pound of flesh.’ She turned to Lucy, her smile brittle. ‘Never mind, I’m sure we shall get used to it. Shall we have some lunch?’

She went to ring the bell then stopped, her face falling. ‘Of course,’ she faltered. ‘They’ve gone too, haven’t they? Just like everything else.’

Lucy got to her feet. ‘I’ll make us a sandwich, shall I?’

‘I don’t think I want anything after all.’

‘You have to eat, Mother. Let’s go and see what’s in the kitchen.’

‘Oh, do stop it, Lucy! I feel like I’m on some kind of ghastly camping trip.’

She watched her mother sink gracefully into a chair, fingers pressed to her temples. Perhaps Uncle Gordon was right, and Lucy was being too hard on her. She had forgotten how helpless her mother was, after being waited on hand and foot for so many years.

‘I have some good news,’ Lucy said brightly. ‘I’ve found us somewhere to live.’

Her mother looked up. ‘Where?’

‘Your cousin Antonia has offered us a very nice flat in town.’

Lady Clarissa pulled a face. ‘I do hope you haven’t been going around cap in hand to all my friends and relatives? I really don’t think I could bear that.’

‘Of course not,’ Lucy lied. ‘But Cousin Antonia was kind enough to ring up and offer us a place, and I thought it would be rude to refuse.’

‘I suppose so,’ her mother sighed. ‘Where is this flat?’

‘Kentish Town.’

Her mother stared at her in horror. ‘Kentish – you mean, North London?’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, we couldn’t consider living in such a place. How would we entertain? Who would come and visit?’

Why does that matter, when all our friends have abandoned us? Lucy wanted to reply. But she could see her mother was already trembling on the verge of one of her rages.

Clarissa got up and poured herself a large gin. ‘I know why Antonia is doing this,’ she muttered. ‘She’s always been jealous of me, and this is her way of putting me down. She’s doing it to show how superior she is.’

Lucy stared down at her hands. ‘Superior or not, at least it’s a place to stay,’ she said. ‘Let’s start to pack, shall we?’

Lucy stayed overnight with her mother and returned to the Nightingale early the following morning.

She felt guilty at how relieved she was to see the wrought-iron gates of the hospital ahead of her. Her mother’s depression and despair weighed heavily on her.

But she wasn’t looking forward to going back on the ward either. It was the first time Lucy had shown her face in the hospital since the scandal of her father’s disappearance broke, and she was worried that everyone would be talking about her. She couldn’t bear the idea that they might be laughing at her, or worse, pitying her.

Fortunately Dora and Millie had already left when Lucy reached their room. She changed quickly into her uniform and reported to Parry. As she passed down the passageways, she could feel heads turning in her direction and a tide of whispers following her. But Lucy kept her head up high and her eyes fixed straight ahead. She wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her looking shaken.

Appearances were everything, as her mother would say.

Sister Parry treated Lucy as if she had never been away, and sent her straight off to prepare a linseed poultice for a small girl with pleurisy. Lucy was grateful for the ward sister’s lack of emotion. If Sister Parry had gushed or asked her how she was feeling, she might have crumbled. As it was, she was proud of her composure as she stirred the linseed and boiling water in the bowl. She was doing very well, keeping herself together.

And no one here had said anything either. There had been no whispers, no curious sideways looks.

As she spread the linen out on the board, Lucy started to wonder if she’d been worrying over nothing. Perhaps no one on Parry knew or even cared about her father?