The Nightingale Girls

CHAPTER Thirteen



IT WAS THE week before Christmas, and many of the patients on Holmes were getting ready to go home. It was the consultant’s policy to send as many men as possible back to their families, to give them and the medical staff a chance to enjoy a good Christmas.

There was a definite festive atmosphere in the air. The long, cavernous ward had been brightened up with streamers, paper chains and sprigs of holly. A couple of the nurses had optimistically stuck some mistletoe over the doors, too, but Sister Holmes had ordered it to be taken down in case it gave patients the wrong idea.

That afternoon, once visiting time was over, the porters would bring in the tree and the nurses would decorate it.

‘But I don’t want any mess in the ward,’ Sister Holmes warned them all severely. ‘The first sign of a dropped needle and that tree goes out, Christmas or no Christmas.’

Helen hummed to herself as she went about her tasks. She enjoyed Christmas at the Nightingale. Everyone was in such good spirits. Even the patients were happy, laughing and joking amongst themselves. Fortunately, they were all on the mend and there had been no dramatic admissions over the past week, apart from Mr O’Sullivan and his internal haemorrhoids. But a week after surgery, even he was feeling better.

Charlie Denton was improving, too. His wound had healed up nicely and his splints and supporting pillows had been taken away. Now all he needed was regular massage and movement to keep his leg muscles working before his temporary prosthetic was fitted. With any luck he would be back on his feet by the New Year.

Helen watched him as he helped Mr Stannard with his crossword.

‘I wonder if she’ll turn up today?’ Amy Hollins voiced the thought that had been going through Helen’s mind at that exact moment.

Charlie Denton’s fiancée Sally had been in to visit him once in the five weeks he’d been in hospital. Helen had taken an instant dislike to the brassy-looking blonde who’d spent ten minutes admiring herself in her compact mirror before announcing she had to go and catch her bus.

Every week Charlie looked for her, and every week there was another excuse for her not coming. One week her mum was poorly, the next she had to go and see her sister in Clacton. He tried to hide his disappointment as best he could, but Helen could see the light fading from his eyes when the doors opened and she wasn’t there.

Bitterness had got the better of him the previous week, when another visiting time was almost over and there was still no sign of his fiancée.

‘I know it’s tough for my Sal, having to see me like this,’ he’d said to Helen. ‘But all the same, you’d think she’d make the effort for my sake, wouldn’t you? I mean, look at Percy over there.’ He’d nodded towards Mr Oliver, who had been moved to the main ward now he was beginning to recover from his head injury. He sat propped up against the pillows, staring glassily into space, almost unaware of the pretty dark-haired girl who sat at his bedside, tenderly stroking his face. ‘His girl comes in to see him every visiting time, even though he doesn’t know she’s there half the time. And I reckon she’d come every day if she could. They say head injuries change people, don’t they? Make them moody, like? That poor girl doesn’t even know if he’s going to be the same bloke when he gets out of here. And yet she still comes, still loves him with all her heart. You only have to look at her to see that.’

He turned to Helen, blue eyes full of despair. ‘I’m not like that, am I? I haven’t changed. I’m still the same bloke Sal fell in love with. It’s only my leg that’s gone, not up here.’ He touched his finger to his temple.

Helen wished she could say something to comfort him and bring the smile back to his face. But she couldn’t. She could tend his wounds, keep him clean and comfortable, but she couldn’t mend his broken heart. Only Sally could do that.

As another visiting time loomed, Helen hoped his fiancée wouldn’t let him down. She was almost as thrilled as he was when Sally appeared shortly after the visiting bell rang. Helen saw Mr Denton’s face light up when he saw her strutting down the ward towards him in her smart red coat, her hat arranged at a rakish angle on her blonde head. She carried a wicker basket full of fruit – an offering from his mum, Helen guessed. Mr Denton’s father was a costermonger in Columbia Street market, and every week his mum would turn up for visiting time with a basket overflowing with apples, pears, bananas and oranges, which Mr Denton would kindly distribute among the rest of the ward.

She watched Sally place the basket down beside the bed, lean over and kiss her fiancé on the cheek. It didn’t look like the warmest kiss Helen had ever seen, but since she had never been kissed herself she was no judge.

‘Tremayne?’ Sister Holmes jolted her back to reality. ‘While we’re quiet, I want you to go down to the basement and fetch the box of tree decorations. The porters will be bringing the tree up after visiting time.’

‘Shall I go with her, Sister?’ Amy Hollins offered. ‘It will be quicker with two of us.’

‘Good idea, Hollins.’

Helen was surprised at Amy volunteering for extra work. But she found out why as soon as they got down to the basement and Amy disappeared off to the stoke hole for a sneaky cigarette, leaving Helen to search for the box by herself.

The air in the basement was musty, and so cold Helen could see her breath curling in front of her. The feeble electric light barely pierced the gloom, casting long shadows over the bare brickwork.

Helen inched her way between shelves that were crammed with boxes and long-forgotten medical equipment. Old desks, chairs and trolleys covered in dustsheets made sinister shapes that rose out of the shadows at her, making her jump at every turn.

‘I see your Mr Denton’s fiancée has turned up,’ Amy remarked, her voice carrying from the far end of the basement where she perched cosily beside the stoke hole.

‘He’s not my Mr Denton.’

‘Really? You seem to take quite an interest in him. I thought you two were the best of friends.’

Helen bent double to squint at the rows of boxes on the lower shelves, trying to make out their labels in the darkness.

‘She’s probably ditching him,’ Amy said.

Helen stood up so quickly she backed into a drip stand, sending it clattering. ‘That’s an awful thing to say!’

‘Why? It’s what I’d do. What good is a crippled husband to her? Better to end it now than go on with it out of pity, I say.’

‘If she loves him, she’ll stay with him whatever happens.’

‘Then she’s daft. He’ll drag her down and ruin her life.’ Amy appeared at the far end of the basement, cigarette in hand. ‘Think about it. He’ll never be able to work or provide for his family. And as for wanting to go to bed with someone like that—’ She shuddered. ‘No, she’s better off finding a real man who can look after her.’

‘Charlie is a real man!’

Helen felt herself blushing as she blurted out the words. Amy’s brows rose questioningly.

‘It’s Charlie now, is it? You really are interested in him, aren’t you? Fancy that – the oh-so-perfect Tremayne falling for a patient. Bet your mother wouldn’t like that.’ She smiled wickedly. ‘Maybe someone should tell her? Give you a taste of your own medicine.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Helen protested.

‘Oh, don’t look so panic-stricken. We’re not all tell-tales like you.’ Amy took a long pull on her cigarette. ‘Anyway, you’ll get your chance with him soon enough. Trust me, I know about these things. I bet you sixpence she’ll finish with him today.’ She looked up at Helen through a curling plume of smoke. ‘Have you found those decorations yet? Better get a move on before Sister She-devil sends someone down to look for us.’

I’d find it a lot quicker if you were helping me, Helen thought.

She finally located the battered, dust-covered cardboard box on a top shelf at the far end of the basement.

‘About time, too.’ Amy stubbed out her cigarette and tossed it into the stoke hole as Helen appeared, staggering under its weight. ‘And you’ve got dust all over your apron,’ she added casually. ‘Sister isn’t going to be too pleased about that.’

Visiting time wasn’t yet over by the time they returned to the ward, but Charlie Denton’s fiancée had already gone.

Staff Nurse Lund intercepted Helen as she was changing her apron. ‘Can you keep an eye on Mr Denton, Tremayne? We think he might have had some bad news.’

Helen’s heart sank. Ignoring the knowing look Amy sent her, she went over to Charlie Denton’s bed.

A newspaper lay open at the crossword page, but he wasn’t looking at it. One look at his hollow-eyed face, and Helen knew Amy Hollins was right.

She offered the only comfort she could. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Mr Denton?’

He turned to look at her, his smile wobbling. ‘No, thanks, Nurse. But I wouldn’t mind something a bit stronger, if you’ve got it?’

‘Why? Has something happened?’

‘You could say that.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Sal’s called off the engagement.’

‘What happened?’

‘Oh, she was nice enough about it. Shed a few tears, said how sorry she was and all that. But the bottom line is, she reckons she can’t cope with the idea of me being disabled. Doesn’t want a cripple for a husband.’ He pleated the sheet between his fingers. ‘Can’t say I blame her. I’m not looking forward to it much myself.’

‘Oh, Mr Denton, I’m so sorry.’ Helen fought the urge to reach for his hand. ‘Perhaps when she’s had time to think about it, she’ll realise she’s made a mistake?’

‘I doubt it, Nurse T. From the sound of it, she’s already found someone else.’

‘Do you know who it is?’

He nodded. ‘One of my best friends, as it happens.’ He tried to smile, but his voice was thick with emotion. ‘I don’t really blame her. Sal’s young, full of life. She wants someone who can take her out dancing, someone who can provide for a family. And let’s face it, I’m never going to trip the light fantastic around the People’s Palace any more, am I? No, it’s better that she finds someone who can look after her. And I know my mate Sam will do that. I’d like to think my Sally will be well looked after.’ He opened his hand. A ring with a tiny diamond chip glinted in his palm. ‘Although I don’t suppose she is my Sally any more, is she?’

Helen felt a lump rising in her throat. But before she could say any more, Sister Holmes summoned her to help decorate the tree.

Charlie Denton smiled wanly. ‘You’d best get on, Nurse. I’ve taken up too much of your time. That tree won’t decorate itself, will it?’

Helen had been looking forward to decorating the Christmas tree. But now, as she perched on a chair to hang glittering stars from its branches, she had never felt less festive in her whole life. She kept stealing glances over at Charlie. Mr O’Sullivan in the next bed was trying to regale him with the details of his recent operation. But even though Charlie was smiling and nodding, she could tell he wasn’t listening to a word.

‘I do wish you’d pay attention, Tremayne,’ Sister Holmes scolded, as another bauble shattered on the ground. ‘If you drop anything else it will come out of your pay.’

‘Yes, Sister,’ Helen said miserably.

Amy sidled up to her smugly, a glass angel in her hand.

‘Told you, didn’t I?’ she said. ‘That’s a tanner you owe me.’

Helen ignored her. Turn the other cheek, the Bible said. But sometimes the urge to shove Amy’s face in a bedpan was almost overwhelming.