The Nightingale Girls

CHAPTER Forty-Two



‘APPENDICITIS,’ SISTER HOLMES said.

She looked at the two women sitting opposite her in her office. One, a careworn, middle-aged woman in a blue coat, was trying desperately not to cry, her eyes fixed on her hands. By contrast, Doyle seemed unnaturally calm. Sister Holmes wondered if she’d really taken in the news.

‘Mr Dwyer the consultant is operating now,’ Sister Holmes went on.

‘My Alf will be all right, won’t he?’ Mrs Doyle looked up at her anxiously.

Sister Holmes glanced at Doyle. She looked unfamiliar in her faded summer dress, her abundant red curls framing her face. ‘He’s in the best possible hands,’ she replied blandly.

Doyle met her gaze steadily. At least she understood how serious the situation was. Sister Homes hoped she could explain it to her mother more gently.

‘When can I see him?’ Rose Doyle asked.

‘Not for some time, I’m afraid. Your husband will need time to recover after the operation. But we will let you know the outcome as soon as possible.’

Sister Homes stood up, indicating the meeting was at an end. Delivering bad news always made her feel uncomfortable. She felt so helpless in the face of people’s grief. She was far more at home on the ward, where she could make people feel better in a practical way.

As they left, she said quietly to Doyle, ‘Go home with your mother. I will find another nurse to cover the rest of your shift.’

‘If it’s all the same to you, Sister, I would like to come back on duty at five,’ Doyle replied.

Sister Holmes frowned. ‘Don’t you want to be with your family, under the circumstances?’

Doyle shook her head. ‘Mum will have my nan and the kids with her, she won’t need me. And I’d like to keep myself busy.’

‘Of course. I understand.’

As she looked into the girl’s calm green eyes, she wondered if Doyle really had taken in the news. Because if she didn’t know better, she could almost believe that Dora Doyle really didn’t care.

Outside on the front steps of the hospital, Josie was waiting for them. She jumped up as soon as she saw them.

‘Is he—?’

Dora shook her head. ‘He’s still in theatre. We won’t know anything for a few hours.’

She saw the flare of disappointment in Josie’s face, quickly masked.

‘Thank God I was there,’ Rose Doyle said. ‘When I think about what might have happened if I’d still been away at our Brenda’s—’ She shuddered. ‘Poor Alf. He’s been complaining of those pains for weeks. I told him to go the doctor but he wouldn’t have it. He’s never trusted doctors and hospitals . . .’ she trailed off, choking back a sob. ‘What if anything happens to him?’

‘Shh, Mum. Don’t take on.’ Dora put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘Mr Dwyer is a top surgeon. He’ll look after Alf.’

‘I just wish there was something I could do . . .’ She fumbled in her coat pocket for a crumpled handkerchief. ‘I s’pose all we can do now is pray.’

Dora caught Josie’s eye. She knew what her sister would be praying for. She’d prayed for the same thing herself, night after night, since she was fourteen years old.

‘You should go home,’ she said.

‘Oh no, I’m not going anywhere until my Alf is out of surgery and I know he’s all right.’

‘You heard what Sister Holmes said. It could be hours. You need to get some rest. I can let you know as soon as I hear anything.’

‘She’s right, Mum,’ Josie said. ‘We should let the others know what’s going on.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Rose looked at Dora beseechingly. ‘You will let me know, won’t you love? Whatever the news is, I’d rather hear it from you.’

After they’d gone, Dora went round to the patch of waste ground behind the nurses’ home, where the nurses hid out to smoke. She was glad the other nurses were still on duty and she had it to herself. She needed to be alone to think.

Her hand shook as she held the match to the tip of her cigarette. She couldn’t stop thinking of Alf, lying on that operating table. In her mind, she saw the surgeon opening him up and inspecting the damage to the abdominal cavity and peritoneum. If the appendix was intact, even if it was gangrenous, then it would be a relatively simple procedure to remove it. But if it had ruptured, or perforated during the operation, then it would spread poison all through the abdominal cavity which could kill Alf . . .

She exhaled, narrowing her eyes against the smoke from her cigarette. She felt guilty for even having such a thought. She was a nurse now. She was supposed to save lives, not pray for them to end.

She heard footsteps approaching and swung around to see Nick Riley heading down the narrow, overgrown pathway that led to the waste ground.

He stopped dead when he saw her, his expression darkening.

‘Sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

‘Nick, wait—’ Dora called out to him, but he turned and immediately started heading off back down the weed-covered track, his head down as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

She knew why Nick was avoiding her. It was the same reason he’d ignored her every day for the past week. She’d hurt his pride when she’d rejected him that night Josie went missing.

If only he knew how much she regretted what she’d done. She wished she could explain why she’d pushed him away, to make him understand how Alf had destroyed her trust in any man. But she knew she never would. Like Josie, her terrible secret would stay locked inside her forever.

And Nick would just have to go on hating her.

Nick cursed himself silently. He wished he hadn’t ignored Dora like that. But every time he saw her he remembered that night outside her house, and the frustration and humiliation boiled up inside him again.

He didn’t blame her for rejecting him. He only blamed himself being such a fool, trying to make a move on her when she wasn’t interested in him. When he thought about the look on her face that night he’d kissed her, he just wanted to run away and hide forever.

He could understand why she didn’t want to know. She was so too far out of his league now. She was a nurse in her smart uniform, destined for better things than a lowly porter with a shady past. She deserved far more than him.

But that night . . . Just for a moment, before he’d kissed her, he could have sworn she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her.

‘Aye aye,’ Percy Carson grinned when he got back to the Porters’ Lodge. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of lighting up in here? Mr Hopkins will have your guts for garters.’

‘Let him try,’ Nick growled, clamping a cigarette between his lips. He usually managed to keep on the right side of the Head Porter but he was just in the mood to give Edwin Hopkins or anyone else what for.

‘I’ll have one too, since you’re offering.’ Percy Carson helped himself from Nick’s packet. ‘I s’pose you’ve heard about your girlfriend?’ he said, picking up the box of matches.

‘What girlfriend’s that, then?’

‘You know. That ginger nurse who’s always hanging around you?’

Nick froze. ‘What about her?’

‘Her old man got brought in earlier. Appendicitis. I took him down to theatre myself.’ Percy paused a moment while he lit his cigarette. ‘In a right bad way he was. If you ask me, he’s already a goner . . . Here, where are you going? You’re meant to be in Casualty at half past, remember?’

But Nick was already out of the door, letting it crash shut behind him. All he could think of was Dora’s face, pale and distraught as she called his name. Why the hell hadn’t he stopped to talk to her? He ran straight to the patch of ground behind the nurses’ home, but Dora had gone. All that remained was the smouldering tip of a cigarette.

Dora’s heart was beating fast under the starched bib of her apron as she walked back to the ward. She forced herself to go slowly, even though her mind was racing.

She wasn’t sure what she would find when she got back to Holmes. Alf must be out of theatre by now, she thought. Unless he was dead.

She felt wicked for thinking it, but at the same time she knew she was walking slowly because she wanted to savour the thought for as long as she could.

But as soon as she walked through the doors and saw Millie’s bright face she knew her hopes had been dashed.

‘There you are!’ She hurried up to her. ‘Your stepfather is in the recovery room. They’re bringing him up to the ward in a minute. I’m so glad you’re here. You can be the first to say hello. Won’t that be wonderful?’

Dora gritted her teeth and forced herself to smile.

‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more,’ she said.