The Nightingale Girls

CHAPTER Forty-Five



‘GO AWAY,’ ALF grunted. ‘I don’t want you touching me.’

Dora smiled, enjoying every moment. ‘Don’t be silly, Alf,’ she said briskly. ‘I need to smarten you up.’

She followed his wary gaze to the trolley, laden with face cloths, towels, soap – and a razor blade.

‘I – I want someone else to do it,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t want you near me.’

‘Doyle?’ Dora turned as Staff Nurse Lund stuck her head through the curtains surrounding the bed. ‘Why haven’t you finished washing the patients? The consultant will be here soon.’

‘Mr Doyle doesn’t want me to wash him, Staff.’

Staff Nurse Lund wrinkled her nose fastidiously. ‘Really, Mr Doyle, that won’t do at all,’ she said. ‘It’s only a quick wash and brush up. You want to look your best for Mr Dwyer, don’t you?’ Without waiting for his reply, she turned back to Dora and said, ‘Carry on, please, Nurse. And be sure you don’t take any more nonsense.’

‘No, Staff.’ Dora waited until she’d gone, then looked back at Alf. ‘You heard her,’ she said, picking up a flannel.

Alf yelped as she slapped the cold, clammy cloth around his face. ‘That water’s stone cold. And do you have to be so bloody rough?’ he snapped, jerking his head away. ‘I’ll tell that Sister if you’re not careful.’

‘Go on, then.’ Dora took a step towards the curtains. ‘I’ll call her for you, shall I?’

‘Don’t bother,’ Alf grunted. ‘The old bitch is just as bad as the rest of you.’

His bravado didn’t fool her for a moment. He’d been wary of her ever since she’d made her threat.

Seeing him now made Dora wonder how she’d ever been so afraid of him. His ashen, haggard face, roughened by stubble, looked ten years older. He was no longer the monster who had made her afraid of every moving shadow in the night. He was just a trembling, pathetic coward who couldn’t even look her in the eye.

His gaze sharpened when she picked up the razor blade.

‘What’s the matter, Alf?’ Dora grinned. ‘You look a bit nervous.’

‘Never mind me,’ he muttered through a chin smothered with soap. ‘You just concentrate on what you’re doing with that thing.’

‘You’re right, I could do someone an injury, couldn’t I?’ She let the shiny blade flash in front of his terrified eyes. ‘It’s so easily done, isn’t it? One slip and I could have your ear off – or worse.’ He said nothing, but perspiration glistened on his brow.

‘But it’s all right, you’re quite safe,’ she assured him as she brought the blade down the length of his cheek. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice, and I’ve got quite a steady hand. Unless something upsets me, of course. Then I just start shaking all over the place.’

She wiped soap off the blade, aware of Alf watching her every move. ‘And do you know what really upsets me, Alf?’ she said, as she moved the blade towards his chin again. Her face was so close to his she could see the vein throbbing in his temple. ‘People who don’t keep their filthy hands off my sister.’

He gave a squeak of terror and tried to jerk away, but she clamped his chin in her hand, trapping him. ‘No, no, don’t start jigging about all over the place or I really will do you an injury,’ she warned softly. She tugged his face around to look into her eyes.

‘Are you frightened, Alf?’ she whispered. She let the blade rasp against his skin. ‘You’re not such a big man now, are you?’ He held himself rigid, but she could see his eyes bulging with fear. ‘Do you want me to stop? That’s what we wanted too, me and Josie. But you wouldn’t, would you? You kept on hurting us.’ She smiled, pushing her face closer to his. ‘And do you know what? I’m not going to stop either.’

His eyes screwed shut, his whole body tensed, waiting. She could smell the fear coming off him as she lowered the blade, letting its sharp edge rest just below his ear . . .

I could kill him, she thought. Just one little nick in the right place, and he’d be gone forever.

She lowered the blade. ‘D’you know what? You’re not worth doing time for.’

He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘You’re mad,’ he croaked, his hand going to his throat.

‘Touch my sister again and you’ll see how mad I can be.’ He flinched back as she thrust the blade under his nose. ‘I’m warning you, Alf Doyle. If you so much as lay a finger on Josie again, I’ll come after you. And it’ll take more than a surgeon to put you right.’

Kathleen Fox was shocked to see Helen Tremayne, of all people, standing in front of her desk. She was even more shocked when she found out why.

‘Let me be clear about this.’ She read the notes in front of her again. ‘You were discovered hiding in Sister Sutton’s bathroom late last night, is that correct?’

‘Yes, Sister.’ Tremayne’s head hung low, her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘And may I ask why?’

As Tremayne explained, it was all Kathleen could do not to smile. It was only the young nurse’s utter mortification, and the fact that Miss Hanley was standing hatchet-faced beside her, that stopped her.

‘I see,’ she said, when Helen had finished her stumbling explanation. ‘You gave Sister Sutton quite a fright,’ she observed.

‘Yes, Matron. I’m sorry, Matron.’ Helen’s eyes were red-rimmed, circled by dark shadows. She looked as if she’d been awake all night.

Kathleen looked down at her notes and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud. ‘This is a very serious situation indeed,’ she said. ‘Who knows what Sister Sutton could have been doing when you fell through her bathroom window? It could have been extremely embarrassing.’ She pinched her mouth tight. ‘You have an exemplary record of conduct at this hospital, and I am very disappointed that you have let yourself down.’

‘And no doubt your mother will be very disappointed too,’ Miss Hanley added severely.

Tremayne looked up sharply. ‘Please don’t tell my mother, Matron!’

The fear in her eyes startled Kathleen. She had never seen a girl look so afraid.

‘And why should we not tell her?’ Miss Hanley demanded, clearly enjoying the moment.

‘Because . . . because I’m afraid she will be very vexed,’ Tremayne said lamely.

‘You should have thought of that before you did it, shouldn’t you?’ Miss Hanley said sternly.

Matron saw Tremayne’s chin quiver with the effort of not crying. She could understand how the poor girl felt. She had seen Mrs Tremayne vexed many times. She had also seen her trailing her daughter around like a pet spaniel, to scold or kick as the mood took her.

‘Since Sister Sutton has very generously agreed to say no more about it, and bearing in mind your exemplary record of conduct up until now, I see no reason to involve your mother,’ she announced. Ignoring Miss Hanley’s gasp of annoyance behind her, she added, ‘However, that does not mean you are off the hook by any means. You broke the rules, and you must be punished. You will have your leave cancelled for the next two weeks. And rest assured that if this happens again, we will have to reconsider whether to inform your mother.’

‘Yes, Matron. Thank you, Matron.’ Relief lit up the nurse’s strained face.

After Tremayne had gone, Kathleen steeled herself for the inevitable reprimand from Miss Hanley.

‘I must say, Matron, that I’m sure if I were Mrs Tremayne I would like to be informed of my daughter’s behaviour,’ she said.

I dare say you would, Kathleen thought. And you’d probably punish her just as severely, too.

‘May I remind you, Miss Hanley, that we do not make a habit of informing other students’ mothers when their daughters misbehave,’ she replied. ‘Or we would be on the telephone or writing letters all day, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, but Constance . . . Mrs Tremayne . . . is different,’ Miss Hanley insisted. ‘She would want to know.’

‘And what good would that do? Nurse Tremayne has already received adequate punishment. After all, I run the nursing staff of this hospital, not Constance Tremayne.’

The maid came in with the tea tray before Miss Hanley could reply. Kathleen quickly changed the subject to the new allocations for the following month. But as she watched her Assistant Matron sipping tea, she had no doubt that Miss Hanley would tell Mrs Tremayne at the first opportunity.

For poor Helen Tremayne’s sake, Kathleen would have to try to ensure the opportunity did not present itself.

‘Really, Agatha, don’t you think you’re taking it all too seriously? It was only a prank, after all.’

‘Only a prank?’ Agatha Sutton’s eyes grew beady. ‘You may find it amusing, Florence, but I can assure you I do not. In fact, I’m still deeply upset by it. I haven’t been able to venture into my bathroom after dark since.’ She gave a dramatic shudder that set all her chins wobbling. Florence Parker didn’t lift her eyes from her sewing, but Veronica Hanley could see her lips pursed together as she tried to stop herself from smiling.

Miss Hanley herself couldn’t see anything funny about it. She didn’t believe Agatha Sutton was taking it too seriously, either. If anything, it was Matron who was at fault for not considering the Home Sister’s feelings in the matter.

‘I agree, it’s completely unacceptable,’ she said, stabbing her needle into the patchwork. ‘Trespass is very serious, and Helen Tremayne should have been punished severely for what she did to poor Agatha.’

‘You make it sound as if she lay in wait in that bathroom deliberately to jump out at her,’ Florence shook her head. ‘Really, the poor girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ Her blue eyes twinkled. ‘It’s rather funny when you think about it. I wish I’d seen her face!’

She chuckled to herself. Veronica and Agatha exchanged a look of horror. Florence Parker was an excellent nurse, but she could be very modern at times.

‘I really don’t think it’s funny at all,’ Veronica said. ‘It could have been very embarrassing for poor Agatha.’

‘An invasion of my privacy,’ Agatha Sutton put in. ‘Poor Sparky hasn’t been the same since, either.’

At the sound of his name, the little dog lifted his head from where he had been snoozing on the rug at their feet, then sank down again.

‘You see?’ Agatha said. ‘He is utterly traumatised, poor lamb.’

‘So you think Matron should have dismissed Tremayne because of what she did to your dog, is that it?’ Florence’s voice was sharp. ‘Everyone is allowed to make a mistake, surely? Why, I remember when I was young . . .’ She looked up, saw their expressions and her voice trailed off. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ she said briskly. ‘What does matter is that Tremayne is a wonderful nurse and an extremely hard worker. She would be a great loss to this hospital.’

‘I agree with you,’ Veronica said. ‘No one would want to see her dismissed. She is an asset to the Nightingale. I wish there were more like her.’ In fact, Helen was usually one of the few students of whom she whole-heartedly approved. ‘But don’t you see? That is why I feel she should be disciplined. Before she is led astray.’

Agatha Sutton said, ‘Her mother should have been informed, at the very least.’

‘That busybody!’ Florence shook her head. ‘She has her nose stuck into our business far too much as it is.’

‘This hospital is her business,’ Veronica insisted stubbornly. ‘And Helen is her daughter. She has a right to know if the girl is in moral danger . . .’

‘Good heavens, Veronica, you make this place sound like Sodom and Gomorrah!’ Florence stared at her, her eyes narrowing. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of informing Mrs Tremayne yourself?’

‘I think I would want to know, if it were my daughter.’

‘And I think such decisions are best left to Matron. Don’t you agree, Agatha?’

‘I think Veronica must do as her conscience dictates,’ the Home Sister said primly, leaning forward with great effort to offer a biscuit to Sparky.

‘As long as it is her conscience speaking, and not a desire to score points at Matron’s expense? Because such a situation could backfire very badly indeed.’

Veronica was silent, concentrating on her stitching. She could feel Florence’s eyes fixed on her, but refused to meet her gaze.

Florence was wrong, she told herself, this had nothing to do with Matron. Helen Tremayne was an excellent nurse with a bright future ahead of her. It was for the girl’s sake that she had to speak up.

Mrs Tremayne would expect nothing less from her.