The Nightingale Girls

CHAPTER Forty-Four



DORA TRAILED TO the ward with a heavy heart to start her duty, already dreading the thought of seeing Alf again.

Even after three weeks, the sight of him in his blue striped pyjamas, his face florid against the starched pillows, turned her stomach.

Her only consolation was that he seemed as unhappy as she did.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ he greeted her unenthusiastically when she arrived to do his TPRs. ‘What do you want?’

She ignored him, reaching for the thermometer over his bed. He eyed her warily. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.

‘Taking your temperature, what does it look like?’ She shook the thermometer with a flick of her wrist.

‘Isn’t there anyone else who can do it? What about that blonde piece?’ Alf craned his neck, looking desperately around.

‘She’s on her tea break, so I’m afraid we’re stuck with each other.’ She jammed the thermometer into his mouth before he could reply.

She gingerly picked up his wrist to check his pulse, and felt him recoil. She watched him curiously as she counted the beats. His eyes were fixed on her, but not in the leering, overconfident way he usually looked at her. This time he looked almost . . .

Fearful.

That was it, she realised with a shock. Alf was actually afraid of her.

She remembered what her mother had said about Alf being terrified of doctors and hospitals. Now, not only was he in hospital, but he was also completely at her mercy. And after everything he had done to her, no wonder he was scared.

‘What you smirking at?’ Alf watched her, eyes narrowed suspiciously, when she took the thermometer out of his mouth. ‘What does it say? Is it bad news?’

She didn’t reply as she noted down the figures on his chart and hooked it back on the end of his bed.

‘You didn’t ought to go around grinning like a bloody Cheshire cat when there are sick people about,’ Alf grumbled.

‘And you didn’t ought to go around telling nurses what to do,’ Dora said, still smiling. ‘I could make life very uncomfortable for you, remember.’

She saw him pale, his face suddenly grey against the snowy pillows. That would give him something to think about, she decided.

And it gave her something to think about too. A way to make sure he didn’t hurt her sister again.

Helen had never been in love, but she was sure it must feel something like she felt now, sitting in the stalls of the Rialto, holding hands in the dark with Charlie Denton.

She had been nervous when he first suggested a trip to the pictures. She had never been to the cinema with anyone but her parents before, and then only on very rare occasions when it was a film of which her mother approved. She had also heard the other girls talking about what went on in the back row, and she worried that Charlie’s hands might start to wander after the lights went down.

But he was the perfect gentleman as he had been every other time they’d been out together, buying her a box of chocolates and insisting on paying for the tickets.

‘I hope you don’t mind the stalls?’ he said anxiously.

‘It makes no difference to me where we sit.’ Helen would happily have sat on the floor as long as she was with him.

The last six weeks had been the best of her whole life. Every week she and Charlie would meet on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. They would go to the park if it was fine, take a bus trip into town or go for tea at the local cafe. Helen knew the other girls would probably laugh at her – they liked to brag about the smart places they’d been with their boyfriends – but she was content just to be with him.

Charlie had even taken her to meet his family. She already knew his mother from her visits to the hospital, and Mrs Denton was delighted to welcome the shy young nurse into her home.

‘You’ve been a tonic to our Charlie, you really have,’ she told Helen, embracing her warmly. ‘He’s a different lad since he met you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Don’t say anything, but I never really took to that Sally Watkins. Too full of herself by half.’

Helen had been overwhelmed by Charlie’s noisy, boisterous family – his younger brothers and sisters and his down-to-earth dad who sold fruit and veg in the market. It was so different from her own quiet home, where her mother would never even hug her own children, let alone a stranger.

Although now Charlie was dropping hints about meeting her family. It was the only thing spoiling Helen’s happiness as she sat in the darkness, watching Robert Donat avoiding spies in The Thirty-nine Steps.

She hadn’t told her mother about Charlie, of course, and shuddered to think what she would do if Constance ever found out about him.

‘You’re not ashamed of me, are you?’ Charlie had joked when she made yet another excuse.

‘Of course not,’ Helen said. Her mother would disapprove even if she were stepping out with the Prince of Wales.

She hadn’t set out to deceive her parents, but she had never imagined she would get this far with Charlie. She’d thought that after one or two dates he would get bored and drop her. Then everything would go back to normal and her mother would be none the wiser.

She had never imagined that weeks later they would still be seeing each other. And she certainly never imagined she would fall in love with him.

She hadn’t realised she was frowning so hard until she caught Charlie looking questioningly at her in the darkness. She smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly. She knew that one day she would have to do something about the situation, but not yet. Being truly happy was a rare feeling for Helen, and she wanted to enjoy it for as long as she could.

‘Did you enjoy the film?’ he asked as they stepped out into the brightly lit foyer.

‘Oh, yes, it was smashing.’

‘Really? Only you looked as if you were a million miles away.’

‘Sorry, I was just thinking about something else.’ Helen tucked her arm under his. ‘But I loved the film. It was terribly exciting, wasn’t it? Especially that bit at the end where the memory man gets shot—’

But Charlie wasn’t listening to her. He was staring transfixed at a point beyond Helen’s shoulder. She turned to look. Descending the sweeping staircase from the circle on the arm of a good-looking young man was Charlie’s fiancée, Sally.

Ex-fiancée, Helen reminded herself. But no one could have told it from the expression on Charlie’s face. Their eyes met across the room and Helen felt herself fade into the crowd.

Sally made her way over to them. ‘Hello, Charlie,’ she said. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘Sal.’ His voice was gruff.

‘You know Sam, don’t you?’ The two men nodded to each other. Helen waited for Charlie to introduce her, but he seemed to have forgotten all about her as he stared at Sally.

They made polite small-talk for a minute or two, then she said, ‘Well, we’d best be off. It was nice to see you, Charlie. Maybe see you again sometime?’

They walked back to the hospital in moody silence. Helen could tell Charlie was troubled but she was too afraid to ask why. All she knew was that their evening had been ruined. Seeing Sally had changed everything, she could tell.

They were almost back at the hospital when he suddenly said, ‘Do you mind if we sit somewhere for a while? I need to talk to you.’

Helen’s stomach dropped. Here it comes, she thought.

‘Can’t it wait?’ she said desperately. ‘I’ve got to be back at the hospital by ten, and it’s nearly quarter to.’

‘I’d rather say it now, if that’s all right?’

No, it isn’t all right, Helen wanted to scream. She had the sudden urge to run away, never to hear the words that would end her happiness for ever. But it was already over, she realised sadly. It had been over the moment Charlie set eyes on Sally Watkins again.

They sat on a bench across the road from Victoria Park. Helen stared at the tall iron gates and mentally tried to prepare herself for what she was about to hear.

‘I’m sorry about Sal,’ Charlie said. ‘I didn’t know she’d be there, otherwise I would never have suggested going to the pictures.’

‘You had to see her sooner or later, I suppose.’ And once you did, you realised you were still in love with her and it was all over for us, she added silently.

‘I know. I’ve been wondering what I’d feel like when I saw her again. I’d been dreading it, to be honest. I mean, we’d been together since we were kids. We’d planned our future. She was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.’

Charlie turned to look at her. His face was so wretched, Helen’s heart went out to him. ‘Real love doesn’t just go away, does it?’ he said.

‘No,’ Helen agreed sadly. She took a deep, shaky breath. ‘Look, you don’t have to explain. I understand,’ she said.

‘Do you?’

‘Of course. I’ve been expecting it, to be honest.’ She looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eye. If she looked at him, she knew she would cry. ‘Like you said, you and Sally were together a long time. You’re bound to still have feelings for her. And I’m sure in time, once she gets used to the idea, she’ll realise she still has feelings for you, too. If you really love each other then it will work out.’ She gathered up her bag and stood up. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I must be getting back.’

‘Hang on.’ Charlie’s hand closed on her arm, pulling her back. ‘What are you on about? Who says I want Sally back?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Not a chance.’ He frowned at her. ‘Why would I want her back when I’ve got you?’

It took a moment for his words to sink in. And even then Helen wasn’t sure she’d understood them. ‘I don’t understand. You just said . . .’

‘I’ll admit, I was dreading seeing her again. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about seeing her on the arm of another man. But when I saw her . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I felt nothing. Nothing at all. Except glad that I was with you and not her.’

Helen sank back down on to the bench beside him. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up. ‘But you said real love doesn’t just disappear.’

‘No, it doesn’t. That’s what made me realise, what I felt for her was never real love. I was infatuated with her, I suppose. She was the prettiest girl in our street, and I was proud to be seen with her. I was even prouder when she said she’d marry me. But it didn’t seem real somehow. We always wanted different things. She was one for going out, living the high life, having a good time. She was always pushing me to get on, make something of myself, bring in more money. It used to drive her mad that I was happy to stay working with the lads at that factory.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Funny thing is, now I’m working with my uncle, learning a trade, which was what she always wanted me to do. But I’m not doing it for her any more. I want to do it to make you proud.’

His hand closed over Helen’s. ‘I’m not one for making speeches,’ he said wryly. ‘I’ve been chewing myself up with nerves all the way here, to be honest. But I knew I couldn’t let you go without telling you how I feel about you.’ He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight. ‘I love you, Helen. I know I’m not much of a bargain, and I can’t think why you’d be interested in someone like me when you’re so clever and beautiful and could have anyone you wanted. But I just wanted you to know . . .’

He never finished the sentence. Helen knew it was all wrong, and that a young lady was supposed to wait for a man to make the first move, but she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him. And, after a second of surprise, he kissed her back.

It was as terrifyingly wonderful as she had always thought it might be. As his lips moved against hers and she felt the warmth of his hands cupping her face, Helen at last realised what all the other girls giggled and gossiped about. Although she also knew she would never ever tell anyone about this moment, not even Millie and Dora. It was just too special. She wanted it to go on for ever.

It almost did. It was only when they were disturbed by a group of jeering drunks that they reluctantly extricated themselves from each other’s arms.

‘Look at that! Ain’t love grand?’ one of the men laughed.

Charlie put his arm around Helen, pulling her closer. ‘It is, mate,’ he agreed good-naturedly.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ another man said mournfully. ‘All I’m going to get from my missus is a battering. She told me next time I was in after closing time she was gonna lock the door on me!’

‘Closing time!’ Helen whipped round to look at Charlie. ‘Oh, no, I’m so late!’

By the time they got back to the nurses’ home the black front door was firmly closed.

‘How are you going to get in?’ Charlie asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Helen looked up at the windows in despair. She knew Millie often shinned up the drainpipe to slip through their attic window, but that was only when Helen was there to leave it open for her. Tonight it would be firmly locked.

She suddenly thought about the time Millie had climbed in through the open window on to Hyde Ward. She knew she would never have the nerve to try anything so daring or dangerous.

‘We’ll think of something.’ Charlie took her hand in the darkness. ‘Let’s look around the back.’

They picked their way carefully over the uneven patch of ground until they found a tiny window left ajar.

‘Where does it lead, do you think?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure. It’s too small to be a bedroom window. With any luck it’s a store room or something.’ Helen looked around and found an old flower pot. ‘Whatever it is, I’m going to have to risk it. I can’t stay out here all night.’

She placed the upturned pot outside the window, climbed up and scrambled through the narrow gap.

‘Be careful.’ Charlie’s last words drifted up to her as she disappeared head first through the tiny window.

She ripped her stockings, but at least she didn’t break her neck as she landed on a hard tiled floor. She scrambled to her feet, wishing there was a moon as she groped around in the pitch darkness, trying to find the door. The room seemed to be very small, and as she turned around she blundered into something big and cold and hard. She felt around. It felt like . . . a bathtub. She turned around, took another step and banged into a toilet.

A bathroom. She put her hand out and found the doorknob, wincing as it creaked when she turned it. But the creaking was soon drowned out by the sound of scampering feet and frantic yapping.

Helen flattened herself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe as claws scratched frantically at the other side of the door. A moment later she heard shuffling footsteps and Sister Sutton’s voice, blurred with sleep, calling out, ‘What is it, Sparky? Who’s there?’ The footsteps shuffled closer. Helen closed her eyes and prayed with all her might. Just as they reached the door, she heard Sister Sutton’s voice on the other side.

‘Come on, back to bed, you silly dog. Listen to you, yapping at nothing.’

The footsteps started to move away. ‘Thank you, Lord,’ Helen mouthed into the darkness. But as she turned, she knocked into a shelf and a jar of bath salts crashed to the ground, filling the room with the cloying scent of lily of the valley.

The door opened, the light went on, and Helen found herself staring into the face of Sister Sutton, shiny with face cream and circled with a halo of rollers. The Home Sister let out a scream, and so did Helen a moment later as Sparky sank his teeth into her ankle.