Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (43 page)

‘You won't know until you try, will you? And besides, I have a feeling it will work out very well.'

As Grace turned away to make the beef tea, Daisy saw a slight smile curving her lips. She was already daring to consider the possibility of a new life.

But by the time she'd finished preparing the drink, her old doubts were back in place.

‘I can't go,' she said. ‘It's not right.'

‘So what are you going to do? Stay in the village for ever? Ann isn't a baby any more, Gracie. Soon we'll all have grown up and left, and then where will you be? Stuck in that cottage with no one for company, wishing you'd taken the chance when it was offered to you.'

Grace smiled shyly at her. ‘I wish I had your confidence, Dais.'

‘Then let me give it to you,' Daisy urged. ‘You take my wings and fly, Gracie. Fly as far away from here as you can.'

‘
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO
you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Effie, happy birthday to you!'

Effie sang grimly to her reflection in the scrap of mirror above the sluice sink. What a way to spend her twenty-first birthday, she thought, scraping vomit off a sheet down a plug hole.

It wasn't even as if she could have a laugh today. It was lonely on the ward without Jess and Daisy around. But with Jess still recovering in isolation, and Daisy on the Military Ward, that only left sour-faced Sister Allen to share her birthday with.

As if she had somehow summoned her with her thoughts, the sluice door suddenly flew open and Sister Allen appeared, hauling a bag of soiled dressings.

‘These need to be taken down to the incinerator and disposed of immediately,' she instructed. ‘
Stat!
' she added, when Effie didn't move straight away.

The incinerator was kept away from the main hospital building, in a squat brick-built shed called the Furnace Room. The gigantic incinerator filled the small room, its gaping, fiery maw like a portal to hell. The orderlies manned the furnace in shifts, stripped to their vests, feeding the beast with soiled dressings, amputated limbs and any other ghastly detritus that the hospital wished to be rid of. Because of the stench and the roaring, uncomfortable heat it belched out, very few of the senior staff ever ventured down there. Which made it a popular hiding place for the junior nurses and medical students.

Just Effie's luck, it was Connor who was on furnace duty today, shovelling rubbish from a heap into the burning jaws with a pitchfork. Silhouetted against the bright circle of fire, with his dark colouring and the red glow of the furnace reflected on his skin, he couldn't have looked more like one of the devil's minions if he'd tried.

Effie watched him unseen for a moment. Even though she didn't like him, she could appreciate what a perfect specimen of manhood he was. His vest clung to him damply, outlining every muscle of his toned, broad-shouldered physique.

He stopped for a moment to push a damp curl out of his eyes, and caught her watching him.

‘Enjoying the show?' he said quietly.

Effie cleared her throat. ‘Sister Allen told me to bring these dressings down to you.' She shoved the sack at him, not meeting his eye. He picked it up and swung it easily into the furnace, where it was swallowed by the leaping flames.

As Effie turned away, he said, ‘Happy birthday, by the way.'

She stopped. He was the only person who'd wished her that all day. ‘I didn't think you'd remember.'

‘How could I not remember you turn twenty one today?' His mouth twisted. ‘You've been counting the days ever since I arrived, haven't you?'

‘And now it's here,' she said. ‘I'm a free woman, I can do as I like.'

‘God help us all,' Connor muttered. He leaned on his pitchfork. ‘So what has your fiancé bought you for your birthday? Not an engagement ring, by any chance?'

His mocking gaze fell to her left hand. Effie hid it in the folds of her skirt. ‘Even if he had, I wouldn't be wearing it on duty, as you well know,' she said.

‘I'll take that as a no, then.'

Effie lifted her chin. ‘As a matter of fact, I won't know what he's bought me until I see him tomorrow. He's taking me up to London for dinner,' she announced proudly.

‘London, eh?' Connor sounded impressed, but the teasing glint in his eyes told a different story.

Effie turned away, irritated. Why did he manage to get under her skin so easily?

As she went to walk away, Connor called after her, ‘By the way, I've got a present for you, too.'

‘Have you? Where?' Effie looked around warily. She wouldn't put it past Connor to present her with a severed leg and think it was hilarious.

‘It's more of a surprise,' he said.

‘A nice surprise?'

‘I think you'll like it.' He paused for a moment then said, ‘I'm leaving.'

Effie stared at him. ‘You're going back to Ireland?'

He nodded. ‘I can't stay here for ever,' he said. ‘Summer's coming and I'm needed on the farm. I've already stayed away far too long. Besides, what's there to keep me here, now you're making your own way in the world?'

What indeed? He was watching her face closely, waiting for her reaction. But Effie didn't quite know how to respond.

‘What will you tell Mammy?' she asked.

‘I'll tell her the truth, that you're of an age now to do as you please.'

‘Will you tell her about Kit?'

He smiled. ‘I think that's best left to you, don't you? Although I'd like a front seat when you finally pluck up the courage to tell your father you're marrying an English Protestant!' he laughed.

Effie sighed. She'd had more than a few sleepless nights over it herself.

As if he could sense her troubled mood, Connor said, ‘Are you sure you're doing the right thing?'

Effie was instantly defensive. ‘Not again! When are you going to stop interfering, Connor Cleary?'

‘When that eejit proves he's good enough for you.'

She laughed, taken aback. ‘I didn't know you had such a high opinion of me.'

Connor didn't crack a smile. ‘You'd be surprised,' he said seriously.

Their eyes met. Effie's skin prickled with heat, but she put it down to the warmth belching from the furnace.

‘When are you going?' she changed the subject.

‘I'm booked on the boat from Holyhead on Thursday morning. I'll be catching the train from London tomorrow night.'

‘I'll miss you.' The words were out before she could stop them.

Connor laughed. ‘Euphemia O'Hara! Have you just forgotten yourself and said something nice to me?'

‘No!' she denied it, staring at the floor. ‘I just mean you're the closest thing I've got to family over here. Like a brother.'

His dark brows rose. ‘Is that what you think? That I'm like a brother?'

‘What's wrong with that?' she asked.

He dropped the pitchfork with a clatter and before Effie knew what was happening he'd crossed the room in a couple of strides, cupped her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her mouth. Effie braced herself, expecting him to try and dominate her the way Kit did. But even though he was physically much stronger, Connor's kiss was the gentlest she'd ever experienced. He barely brushed her mouth with his soft, dry lips, but it was enough to send a dart of pleasure right through her.

He pulled away and smiled at her. ‘Did that feel like a brother's kiss, Effie?' he said softly.

After she'd come off duty, Effie went to visit Jess in the sick bay on her way back to the Nurses' Home.

Jess was lying flat on her back, supported by pillows on either side to keep her still. It upset Effie to see the scar at her throat where Dr Drake had performed the emergency tracheostomy.

But at least Jess was well enough to be bored.

‘I don't know how much longer I can put up with this,' she complained, her voice husky. ‘Dr Drake said I might have to stay here for five weeks. It's not been five days and I'm fed up already!'

‘I borrowed a magazine off Mrs Flynn for you, so that might help,' Effie set the copy of
Woman's Own
down on the bedside locker. ‘Can I get you anything?'

Jess managed a smile. ‘It's all right, Nurse O'Hara, you're not on duty now. You don't have to attend to my every need! Sit down and tell me what's going on in the outside world. Happy birthday, by the way. Your card's on my dresser if you want to find it.'

‘Thank you.' Trust Jess Jago to be organised, thought Effie. Only she could get rushed to sick bay and still deliver a birthday card on time!

Effie sat down beside the bed. ‘You gave us all quite a scare.'

‘Did I? I don't remember much about it.'

‘You went downhill so quickly you took us all by surprise. One minute you were protesting that you were fine, the next you were delirious with fever, and couldn't breathe for the wretched membrane in your throat. We all thought we'd lost you, until Dr Drake did that tracheostomy. He practically brought you back from the dead!'

A strange, faraway look crossed Jess's face. ‘I remember him bringing me back,' she said. ‘I didn't want to come at first, but Sam made me—'

She stopped dead, her ashen cheeks suddenly stained with hectic colour.

‘It's all right,' Effie said gently. ‘I found the letters under your bed. I wasn't snooping, honestly,' she said quickly, seeing the stony expression on Jess's face. ‘I was only looking for Sam's address so I could write and let him know you were ill.'

She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. It had been such a shock, finding all those carefully written letters. There had been a letter from Sam's mum, too, passing on the terrible news that he had been killed during the siege of Tobruk. ‘Why did you go on writing to him, Jess?'

She turned her face slightly, so Effie couldn't see into her eyes. ‘I – I don't know,' she said. ‘I kept meaning to stop, but somehow I couldn't. I thought if I carried on writing to him it would mean he was still out there, reading them. In the end my letters turned into a kind of journal. I could pour out all my troubles to Sam, and imagine what he might say about them. It made me feel – I don't know – closer to him.'

‘But it wasn't just the letters,' Effie said. ‘You talked about him as if he were still alive, too.'

The scar at Jess's throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. ‘I couldn't help it,' she said. ‘You started talking about him, and I thought if I told you what had happened, you'd start asking questions, and I'd have to drag it all up again … But then the longer I kept up the pretence, the worse it got. It reached the point where I couldn't tell you. I was afraid you'd think I'd gone mad.' Jess turned her dark eyes to Effie's, pleading for understanding.

Effie didn't reply. She didn't like to say so to Jess, but she feared her friend had been gripped by a kind of madness, denying the truth of what had happened to her boyfriend. It had taken Harry's death and her illness to bring her to crisis point.

Perhaps now the crisis was over and the truth was out, Jess could slowly start to rebuild her life.

Dr Drake came into the sick bay, carrying a book.

‘Here's that Wilkie Collins novel I was telling you about,' he said. ‘I thought you might like to—' He looked up and stopped dead when he saw Effie sitting there. ‘Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you had company.' A vivid blush flooded his face.

‘Dr Drake was telling me about an author he thinks I might like,' Jess told Effie.

‘Is that right?' Effie looked up at Dr Drake, then back at Jess. She was blushing too.

THAT AFTERNOON, JESS
was surprised to get a visit from Sarah Newland.

‘I heard you were ill,' she said. ‘Makes a change, doesn't it? Me coming to visit you in hospital, instead of the other way round?'

Jess smiled. ‘I'm not a very good patient, I'm afraid. I'm not really used to being waited on.'

‘I know what you mean.' Sarah grinned. ‘But from what the doctor says, you're going to have to get used to it.'

‘I know!' Jess closed her eyes. She couldn't imagine lying still for five weeks. ‘How are you, anyway? How's little Jess?'

‘Getting bigger every day!' Sarah beamed with pride. ‘Oh, Jess, I'm so lucky to have her. She's like a miracle.'

‘I'm glad things are going well for you.' Jess frowned. ‘But who's looking after the baby today?'

A blush rose in Sarah's cheek. ‘Her grandmother,' she said quietly.

She spoke so softly, Jess wondered if she'd heard correctly. Then, as Sarah reached up to brush a stray lock of red hair from her face, Jess noticed the emerald ring sparkling on the third finger of her left hand.

‘You're wearing your ring?'

‘Mrs Huntley-Osborne gave it back to me.' Sarah blushed. ‘She said Clifford meant me to have it.' She smiled. ‘Between you and me, I think it makes me look a bit more respectable. You know what she's like!'

‘I do indeed,' Jess agreed. Which made her change of heart all the more mysterious.

Sarah seemed to read her thoughts. ‘I know,' she said. ‘I don't really understand it either. But ever since that day in the chapel, at the memorial service – oh, you won't know about that, will you?' Jess shook her head. ‘It was the strangest thing. She just gave up her seat for me, in front of everyone. The whole village was watching. I was so surprised, I nearly fainted on the spot, I can tell you!'

‘I don't blame you.' Jess was stunned, too. She couldn't imagine what had brought on Mrs Huntley-Osborne's change of heart. Perhaps her own words had sunk in after all, thought Jess.

Or perhaps Mrs Huntley-Osborne finally realised that pride could make her into a very lonely woman.