The Nightingale Nurses (4 page)

‘Good thing too,’ her mother had whispered, as they watched Dora leave, head down and coat collar pulled up against the rain. ‘You want to watch that mate of yours, Ruby. I reckon she’s sweet on your Nick.’

As if Ruby needed telling. She had been aware of the tension between them for months, even before they understood it themselves. ‘I trust Dora,’ she said. ‘She’d never do the dirty on me. She’s too good a friend for that.’

Not like me, a voice inside her head added. If she was honest, part of the reason she had wanted Nick was because she knew her mate liked him.

‘And what about him?’ Lettie had nodded towards Nick, who was straightening his brother’s tie. ‘Do you trust him?’

‘We’re married, ain’t we?’

Her mother sent her a scathing look. ‘You’re a fool if you think a wedding ring makes a blind bit of difference to a man.’

Ruby watched Nick, fussing over his brother with so much affection, and felt a pang of jealousy. ‘I’m going to make sure he never wants to look at another woman. You wait and see, he’ll soon forget all about Dora Doyle.’

‘Well, I reckon if anyone can do that, it’s you.’ Lettie smiled at her admiringly. ‘He’s lucky to have you, love.’

Ruby tried to remind herself of that as she gazed around the pub. All around her were the disappointed faces of young men she had turned down, local boys she’d toyed with and then rejected. Even now she was a married woman, they still watched her longingly. She was Ruby Pike, she could have had any man she wanted in Bethnal Green. And she’d chosen Nick Riley. He should be on his knees giving thanks to God, she decided.

But deep inside her there was a knot of tension that just wouldn’t go away.

‘Rube?’ She almost jumped when she realised Nick was standing over her. His smart wedding suit only seemed to emphasise the taut muscles of his body, as lean as a fighting dog’s. ‘I’m going outside for a breath of fresh air.’

‘You will come back, won’t you?’ she blurted out.

His dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘What kind of a question is that?’

‘I dunno.’ She felt suddenly foolish. ‘Take no notice of me, I’m just being daft.’

She looked away, but his fingers tilted her chin and turned her face up to meet his. ‘Ruby, look at me.’ His eyes met hers, intense and direct. ‘We’re married, all right? I ain’t going to let you down. I’m standing by you.’

‘I – I know.’ She bit her lip, feeling wretched. ‘Kiss me,’ she pleaded.

He looked around. ‘What, here? In front of everyone?’

‘Why not?’ She rose, pushing her chair back with a clatter. The port and lemons made her unsteady on her feet and Nick’s hands came out to catch her as she stumbled. ‘You ashamed of your wife, or something?’

She wound her arms around his neck and moved in for a kiss. Nick tried to offer her a peck on the lips but Ruby buried her fingers in the springy thickness of his curls, holding him fast as her tongue boldly probed his mouth. She felt the stiff resistance in his body for a second before he yielded to her, as he always did.

Their kiss brought a riot of catcalls and cheering from the crowd.

‘Oi, you two! Save it for the wedding night!’ someone shouted.

‘They’ve already had that, from what I’ve heard,’ someone else said, then shut up as Nick pulled away sharply and turned to scowl at them.

‘It doesn’t matter anyway.’ Ruby laughed defiantly, holding up her left hand. ‘We’re married now. It’s all legal and above board.’

‘Better late than never!’ another brave soul shouted from the back of the bar.

Ruby was still smiling bravely and laughing off everyone’s jokes when Nick slipped outside a few minutes later. She waited until she saw the door close behind him, then turned to her brother Dennis.

‘Get me another drink,’ she said, thrusting the glass at him. ‘And make it a double this time.’

‘You want to go steady, you know.’ Lettie appeared at her side. ‘You don’t want to get squiffy.’

Ruby stared at her mother. A network of fine purple veins stood out on her thin, flushed cheeks, and her hat was squashed into a strange, lopsided shape where someone had sat on it. ‘You’re a fine one to talk!’

‘I’m not expecting, am I?’ Lettie plonked herself down on the bench next to her. ‘You’re having a baby, remember?’

‘How can I forget?’ Ruby murmured, moodily tracing a sticky beer ring on the table in front of her.

Lettie squinted at her. ‘You’re in a funny old mood, all of a sudden. What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing. It’s just—’ Ruby started to speak and then stopped herself.

‘I know what this is about.’ Lettie pulled off her hat and plonked it on the table. ‘You’re worried about what I said earlier, ain’t you?’ She pressed one thin, clawed hand against Ruby’s shoulder. ‘You don’t want to take any notice of me, love. You’re right, you and Nick are properly wed now. He’s not going to look at anyone else, especially not an ugly mug like Dora Doyle. Not while he’s got you.’

Dennis arrived and put Ruby’s drink down in front of her, then held out his hand for the money. Ruby shot him a filthy look and he retreated sharply.

‘Besides,’ Lettie went on, slurring her words, ‘you’re expecting his baby. And that means a lot to Nick Riley, whatever he lets on. I know I’ve said some things about him in the past, but I’ll say one thing for him: he’s a grafter. You’ll never have to worry about him providing for you and that kid—’

‘There is no kid,’ Ruby blurted out.

Lettie frowned in confusion. ‘No what, love?’

‘I’m not pregnant, Mum.’ Ruby lifted her gaze to meet her mother’s. ‘There is no baby. There never was.’

Lettie’s mouth opened and then closed again. ‘But I don’t understand . . .’

‘I lied,’ Ruby said simply.

‘You mean, you—’ Lettie’s gaze dropped to Ruby’s belly, then back up to her face. ‘But why?’

‘So he wouldn’t leave me.’

It was Nick’s fault. He’d pushed her into it. Ruby knew he was going to finish it with her, cast her aside for Dora, and she also knew that she loved him so much that if he told her he didn’t want her any more, it would be the end of her world.

And so she’d panicked and told him she was pregnant. And those words had changed everything.

The drunken flush drained out of her mother’s face. She stared at Ruby, as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether to laugh or cry.

‘You silly cow!’ she said finally. ‘You mean, you’ve let all the neighbours gossip about us for nothing?’

Ruby’s mouth twisted. Trust her mother to worry about something like that!

‘You’ve got some neck, I’ll give you that much.’ Her mother shook her head slowly. ‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ruby shrugged. ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’

‘Typical!’ Lettie snapped. ‘That’s your trouble, you’re always opening your trap before you’ve had a chance to think about what you’re doing.’

‘I’ll tell him it was a false alarm, that I got my dates wrong.’

Her mother regarded her shrewdly. ‘And how do you think he’ll take that?’

‘I’ll find out, won’t I?’

‘You do realise he might leave you?’

Ruby shook her head. ‘He won’t. Anyway, he couldn’t divorce me. He wouldn’t have the grounds, would he?’ Men could only divorce their wives for adultery, not for lying.

Besides, people like them didn’t get divorced. No matter how unhappy they were, they just put up with each other until death parted them. Her own mum and dad had been living under the same roof for more than twenty years, even though they hated the sight of each other.

‘There are worse things in life than divorce, my girl. You don’t want to be married to a man who regrets it.’ Looking at her mother’s face, so full of sadness, Ruby wondered if she was thinking about her own loveless match. ‘It ain’t no life, believe me.’

‘Who says he’ll regret it?’ Now they were married, Ruby intended to make sure Nick didn’t have a single moment of doubt. ‘Anyway, I’ll probably get pregnant soon enough,’ she added.

‘You’d best make sure you do, my girl, just in case he gets any ideas,’ Lettie warned. ‘And when are you going to tell him the truth?’

The door opened and Nick appeared. Ruby felt herself smiling as he threaded his way through the crowd towards her.

‘Not tonight,’ she said. This was the happiest day of her life, and nothing was going to spoil it.

‘
YOU THERE. WHAT
do you think you’re doing?’

Dora looked round at the sound of the sharp reprimand. A small dark woman in the grey uniform of a ward sister was heading purposefully towards her. It was barely seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, and Dora had just walked in through the doors of the Casualty department for her first day on duty. Surely she couldn’t have done something wrong already?

She relaxed when the Sister barrelled past her towards an elderly man, huddled under his coat at the back of the room on the last of the rows of empty wooden benches.

‘Were you asleep?’ The nurse stood over him, hands planted on her hips.

‘N-No, Nurse.’ Dora saw the old man tremble, and felt for him. His white hair was straggly under his shapeless hat, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

The Sister eyed him beadily. ‘I’ve seen you in here before, haven’t I?’

‘No,’ the old man said.

From somewhere beyond the waiting room came an unearthly howl. Dora jumped, but the nurse did not flinch. Her attention was still fixed on the old man.

‘Yes, I have. Don’t you try to get one over on me, my man. I’ve warned you about this before. This is a hospital, not a public dormitory, I will not have members of the public wandering in to have a nap. Now be off with you.’

‘But, Nurse—’

‘I said, be off with you!’ She lifted him bodily from the seat and propelled him towards the doors. For a small woman, she was surprisingly strong. ‘If you want to sleep it off, try the local library,’ she called, closing the doors firmly on him.

She turned, saw Dora and her eyes narrowed. Dora flinched, afraid she might be next to be ejected. ‘Are you the new student?’

‘Yes, Sister. I’m Doyle.’

‘I’m Sister Percival, and I am in charge of this department.’ She rapped out the words like bullets from a machine gun. She was a neat little woman, bristling with energy. Even when she was standing still she seemed to be moving, her fingers drumming, dark eyes darting. ‘Well? Don’t just stand there gawping at me. Get to the Operating Room and assist Dr McKay with his severed arm.’

Dora looked around her. The waiting room reminded her of a church, long and echoing, with tall windows down one wall and a set of double doors at one end. At the other was a high wooden desk like a pulpit, with a young staff nurse in a blue uniform seated behind it. In between were rows of benches like church pews, empty apart from a woman with a baby in her arms and a man clutching a blood-soaked handkerchief to his temple.

‘Sorry, Sister, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do—’

Another howl ripped through the air.

‘Good heavens, don’t you students ever think for yourselves?’ Sister Percival pointed towards a door beyond the counter. ‘Over there, girl, behind the booking-in desk. Now get along with you. We deal with emergencies here, and that means there’s no time for dawdling.’

Dora went through the door and found herself in a short tiled corridor. Several doors led off it, all bearing the words ‘Consulting Room’ followed by various numbers. At the far end was a door marked ‘Operating Room’. But Dora didn’t need to be told that – the screech coming from the other side of the door told her all she needed to know.

Dora took a deep breath, pushed open the door and walked in.

She nearly ran straight out again when she saw what was waiting for her. A man lay on the operating table, roaring and cursing with pain, blood pumping from the yawning gash on his forearm. She caught sight of glistening muscle, sinews and bone, like the diagrams in a textbook brought to life in front of her eyes.

And so much blood. No textbook could have prepared her for that. It soaked through the towels, shocking scarlet blossoming on the stark white. Thick splashes dripped off the operating table, pooling at the feet of the doctor who stood beside his patient, applying a tourniquet.

He looked up at her over his spectacles. ‘Ah, Nurse. Could you flush this wound for me, please?’

Dora rushed to fetch the saline solution, relieved to get away. The last thing she wanted to do was faint on her first day in Casualty.

The tourniquet stopped the worst of the bleeding, but warm, sticky blood still oozed over her hands as she tried to clean the wound. Dora averted her gaze as nausea rose up in her throat. She felt overpowered by the heat of the room and the sickly smell, like a butcher’s shop on a hot summer’s day.

The doctor took it all in his stride. ‘I’m Dr McKay, by the way,’ he introduced himself, as if they were guests meeting at a party. He was young, dark and slimly built, with a soft Scottish accent. ‘And you are . . .?’

Dora regarded him warily over her shoulder. No doctor had ever asked for her name before. ‘Doyle, Sir,’ she whispered.

‘Pleased to meet you, Nurse Doyle. And this is Mr Gannon.’ He nodded towards the man on the bed.

‘All right, Nurse?’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘You don’t mind if I don’t shake your hand, do you?’

‘Ha! Very good, Mr Gannon.’ Dr McKay chortled appreciatively. His eyes were a warm brown behind his spectacles. ‘Mr Gannon has had rather a nasty accident at work, as you can see. But I’m sure we’ll have him up and playing cricket again in no time.’ He beamed.

Mr Gannon exhaled sharply, swearing under his breath. His face was white and slick with sweat.

Dora stared down at her hands, red and sticky with blood. They seemed to swim and blur in front of her eyes. The doctor’s voice was coming from a long way off.

She quickly finished flushing the wound and stepped back. ‘All done, Doctor.’

‘Thank you, Nurse. Now, I’m just putting in a ligature in the main artery to control the bleeding points . . .’ Dr McKay worked quickly and deftly. ‘Have we met before, Nurse Doyle?’ he asked.

She had been so busy watching him work, she didn’t realise the question was directed at her at first.