The Nightingale Girls (27 page)

Helen’s brows rose but she said nothing.

For the next hour she and Amy handed out medication with the Night Sister, changed dressings, straightened sheets and shook pillows, generally making the patients comfortable for the night. Then they turned off the lights and Helen and the pro went around pinning little green cloths over the lamps above patients who needed special care, and the one on the sister’s desk.

After that, the pro headed off to catch up with her duty list on Male Chronics, leaving Helen and Amy alone.

‘Right, that’s it. I’m off for a rest,’ Amy announced.

Helen sat down at the desk in the middle of the ward.
‘I’ll keep an eye on this lot and let you know if Night Sister turns up.’

‘She doesn’t do her rounds until well after midnight. Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea in the kitchen?’ Amy offered.

If Helen hadn’t already been sitting down, she would have fallen over in a faint. Ever since they’d started on night duty, Amy had entertained a string of junior doctors in the kitchen. But Helen had never been invited to one of her midnight soirees.

‘Why?’ she asked blankly.

‘No reason. I just thought you could do with a break,’ Amy shrugged. ‘It’s so tedious sitting here night after night with this lot.’ She nodded around the ward. ‘You could come and have a laugh with us for a change.’

Then, just as Helen was beginning to wonder if she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming it all, Amy added, ‘Your brother said he might drop in later.’

Ah, so that’s it. Helen saw the studied nonchalance on Amy’s face and realised the real reason why she was suddenly being so nice to her. She was interested in William, and she’d decided she should start sucking up to his sister.

As if that would make any difference, thought Helen. She tried to keep as far away from William and his love life as she possibly could.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, ‘but I’d better stay here, just in case any of the patients needs anything.’

‘The only thing this lot need is a good undertaker,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t look at me like that, they’re all at death’s door anyway. Although I hope none of them decides to die before tomorrow morning. If I’m late going off duty because I have to lay someone out, I won’t be very happy about it.’

‘I’m sure none of them will be that inconsiderate,’ Helen murmured.

Once Amy had gone, she started on the list of jobs Sister Hyde had left for them to do. She had just started mending the linen when she saw three housemen creep past. Her brother William was one of them. He smiled and gave her a sheepish wave as he followed the others into the kitchen.

Helen settled down to her stitching by the dull light of the shaded desk lamp. All around her was the creak and rattle of bedsprings, mingled with the noises made by the patients. Many of the elderly women on Hyde were disturbed, their minds gone with age and illness. At night they became even more restless and agitated. While other wards slept on peacefully, Female Chronics rang with the sound of whooping, sobbing, wailing and groaning, at least until the effects of their bedtime sedatives took over and an uneasy peace descended for a few hours. Helen was used to the noise. She didn’t find it nearly so disturbing as the muffled shrieks and whoops that came from the kitchen.

‘Nurse?’ Mrs Mortimer’s voice startled her, coming out of the darkness. Helen hurried over.

‘What can I do for you, Mrs Mortimer?’

‘You can tell that rabble to keep their voices down. It’s difficult enough to sleep in this madhouse, without being disturbed by that racket,’ she grumbled.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Mortimer. I’ll tell them immediately.’

She walked into the kitchen to find them all drinking cocoa and listening to William telling a lurid ghost story about a former patient who haunted Hyde ward.

‘And they say that on dark, still nights you can still see her in her blood-stained nightgown, wandering up the ward,’ he intoned in a grave voice.

‘Do you mind?’ Helen interrupted him sternly. ‘You’re
disturbing the patients. And you can put that down, too.’ She snatched a slice of bread out of her brother’s hand. ‘That’s supposed to be for the patients’ breakfast.’

‘Don’t be such a spoilsport, Tremayne,’ Amy said sulkily.

‘She’s right,’ William said. ‘We’ll keep the noise down,’ he promised.

As she left, Helen heard Amy saying, ‘Honestly, Will, I can’t believe she’s your sister. She’s nowhere near as much fun as you.’

Back on the ward, Helen found one of the women had wet her bed and was busy dragging off the sopping sheets, draping them like washing over the sides of her cot. As Helen went to stop her, the woman grabbed her cap, ripping it off her head and sending pins scattering everywhere. Helen was still desperately groping around in the dark, trying to gather them up, when the runner scuttled into the ward to tell her Night Sister was on her way to do her round.

‘Oh, Lord, she’s early.’ Helen retrieved the last pin from under the patient’s bed and got to her feet. ‘You’d better warn Hollins.’

The next minute was a desperate scramble as Amy smuggled the doctors out and tidied the kitchen while Helen tried to refasten her cap as best she could.

She had just fixed the last pin in place when Night Sister appeared. By the time her soft tread was heard outside the ward doors, Amy and Helen had managed to get themselves into some kind of order. Helen could feel her cap slipping down over one ear, but fortunately Night Sister was summoned to an emergency in Female Surgical and didn’t stay long enough to notice.

Amy was even nicer to Helen for the rest of the shift. For once she helped pack the drums with dressings and
swabs, ready for the porter to take off for sterilising when he came back on duty.

‘Are there any doctors you fancy?’ she asked, as they worked.

‘No.’

‘Surely there must be one you like?’

‘Can’t say I’ve noticed them.’

Amy sent her a shrewd look. ‘You’re not still pining over Charlie Denton?’

Helen ducked her head, blushing furiously. Three weeks after starting night duty, she had heard nothing from him. She hadn’t expected him to remember her, but she still felt a pang of disappointment.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped.

‘Pardon me for breathing, I’m sure.’

Helen wished she hadn’t been so sharp. She longed to say the right thing, to make Amy like her more. But she didn’t know how to gossip like the other girls.

There was a long pause. Helen could tell what was going through Amy’s mind long before she said, ever so casually, ‘Does your brother have a girlfriend?’

‘You’d have to ask him that.’

Another pause. ‘Do you think he likes me?’

Amy didn’t look up as she said it, but Helen could feel her anxiety. She suddenly felt sorry for the girl. She wanted to warn her that she was wasting her time, that William would get bored once the chase was over. ‘I’m sure he thinks very highly of you,’ she said tactfully.

Amy went off for her midnight meal shortly afterwards, leaving Helen alone on the ward again. She did a quick round with her torch to check on the patients, trying not to think about the story William had told about the ghostly woman who haunted Hyde. After she’d satisfied herself
that the patients were sleeping peacefully – or as peacefully as they could in a ward full of whistles, groans and snoring – she went into the kitchen to slice and butter more bread for the patients’ breakfasts. If she knew William and the other junior doctors, they would have finished off the last lot.

Cockroaches scuttled for cover as she switched on the light. They’d frightened her the first time she saw them, but now she barely noticed them. She heard someone come into the kitchen behind her.

‘That was quick,’ she said, thinking it was Amy.

‘I didn’t know you were expecting me?’ She swung round. William lounged in the doorway.

‘Hollins has gone for her break,’ she told him. ‘You’ll have to come back if you want to see her.’

‘I didn’t come back to see her. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Helen eyed him warily.

‘Why do you always look so suspicious when I say that?’

‘Because it usually means trouble.’ She slapped his hand away as he reached for a slice of bread.

‘This time I need your advice.’ He perched himself against the stove. ‘Do you know a pro who’s just started on Wren? Blonde, very pretty—’

‘You mean Benedict?’

His dark eyes lit up. ‘You do know her, then?’

‘I share a room with her. Why?’ Helen didn’t need to ask the question. One glance at his face told her all she needed to know. ‘Oh, Will,’ she sighed.

‘What? You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet,’ he protested.

‘I know that look on your face.’

He picked up a teacup and traced the pattern on it with his finger. ‘She seems like a nice girl,’ he said.

‘So are lots of other nurses in this hospital. So is Hollins. Why can’t you go out with her instead?’

‘I’m not interested in Hollins.’

‘Will, you promised.’ Helen put down the knife and looked at him appealingly. ‘After all that business with Peggy Gibson, you promised me you’d never get involved with one of my friends again.’

She saw him wince at the mention of Peggy’s name. ‘This is different,’ he said quietly. ‘Anyway, all that business with Peggy was a long time ago. Can’t you ever let me forget it?’

No one lets me forget it, she thought. She knew he felt guilty about what had happened with Peggy. But he didn’t have to face the other girls’ scorn every day. He didn’t have to endure everyone thinking she was to blame.

She picked up the knife again. ‘Sorry, William, I don’t want to get involved,’ she said.

Just at that moment Amy appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you—’ She saw William and smiled. ‘Hello, are you looking for me?’ She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously.

‘Who else?’ William gave her a winning smile in return. Helen wrung out a teatowel, put it over the plate of bread and butter and left them to their flirting.

Whatever happened, she didn’t want to be part of it.

‘
LET ME BE
clear on this.’ Kathleen Fox struggled to control her rising temper as she looked at the rows of figures in front of her. ‘You are telling me there is no money available for new linen on the wards because you have decided to spend it all on a party?’

She fixed her gaze on Reginald Collins, Treasurer of the Hospital Trustees and the man responsible for drawing up the figures. He squirmed in his seat and examined the papers in front of him.

‘It’s not my doing,’ he huffed. ‘I simply present the facts. The other Trustees . . .’

He shot a quick, guilty look at Constance Tremayne, seated to the right of the Chairman, Philip Enright. Philip might as well not have been there, Kathleen decided. They all knew who was really in charge of the Nightingale.

‘Matron, you do make it sound so frivolous,’ Constance Tremayne observed. She was dressed for battle in a stiff tweed suit, her hair scraped back in its usual tight bun which drew her skin taut across her cheekbones, making it difficult for her to smile. Not that she ever did.

‘Isn’t it?’ Kathleen said coldly.

‘Of course it isn’t. The annual Founder’s Day celebration is a big event for the Nightingale Hospital. And as this year is our fiftieth anniversary, we wanted to make it even more special. All we’ve done is make a temporary allocation in the budget to cover expenses. I think we all agree that is reasonable?’

She looked around the table. No one spoke.

‘Mrs Tremayne is right,’ Gerald Munroe said finally. ‘The Nightingale Hospital is a very important aspect of the lives of the people in this area. It’s our duty to allow everyone to celebrate it.’

Kathleen stared at him. She might have known he’d vote for anything that involved him getting his face in the newspapers yet again.

‘And exactly how many people from this area will we be inviting to celebrate?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘I take it we’ll be throwing the gates open to everyone?’

There was some coughing and shuffling of feet around the table. ‘Of course we will have to restrict the guest list to local dignitaries, senior staff and their families,’ Mrs Tremayne said.

Of course, Kathleen thought. Constance Tremayne wouldn’t want any East End riff-raff at her grand garden party.

‘It will be a very prestigious event,’ she added.

‘I see. And while you’re enjoying this prestigious event of yours, our patients will be sleeping on thin sheets which the nurses are having to patch and mend constantly.’

‘You didn’t seem to mind spending money on the Christmas dance?’ Mrs Tremayne reminded her.

‘The Christmas dance cost next to nothing compared to this extravaganza you’re planning.’

All eyes turned to Constance Tremayne.

‘Then the nursing staff will just have to practise economy.’

Blood sang in Kathleen’s ears. ‘My staff are hardly spendthrift, Mrs Tremayne,’ she bit out. ‘They waste nothing. Dressings are boiled and re-used until they fall apart, everything that can be used again is kept and cleaned and mended. Go and ask any of the sisters here.
They will tell you. And while you’re at it, perhaps you’d like to explain to them why you feel it necessary to spend this hospital’s money on champagne and canapés while they have no clean sheets to put on the patients’ beds? See if they understand this fur coat and no knickers approach of yours, because I certainly don’t!’

Mr Cooper gave a muffled snort of laughter from across the table. Mrs Tremayne turned white-faced with shock.

‘Did she say knickers?’ Lady Fenella asked, baffled.

‘Perhaps we should move to a vote?’ Philip Enright suggested quickly.

‘I think even Mrs Tremayne was lost for words in there!’ James Cooper fell into step beside Kathleen as she made her way back to her office ten minutes later. ‘You have a very lively turn of phrase, Matron. Very . . . vivid, shall we say?’

‘I didn’t intend to be vivid,’ Kathleen snapped back. Usually she enjoyed the few moments of banter she had with Mr Cooper as they left the Trustees meeting, but this morning she wasn’t in the mood. ‘I merely wanted everyone to see how perfectly ridiculous they were being. How on earth can they call this a prestigious hospital when our linen cupboards are empty? Can’t they see the irony?’