Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (10 page)

‘Of course she wants to see you,' Jess said. ‘I bet she'd be here every day, if she could.'

‘Bless you, love, I wouldn't ask her to do that. She's got far too much on her plate already. But I'm looking forward to having a little chinwag with her, to catch up on what's happening at home.'

Poor Hilda, Jess thought. She wondered if she would be so brave in her position. ‘There, you're all done.' She put down the brush. ‘You look like a film star.'

‘Oh, I dunno about that.' Hilda ducked her head modestly. ‘Just so long as I don't worry my Jean too much.'

Jess pushed the screens back and almost collided with Mr Sulley. As well as ferrying nurses to and from the hospital in his horse and cart, he also worked at the hospital as an odd job man. Although he never seemed to be around when there was a job that needed doing.

This time he was coming down the ward, dragging an enormous Christmas tree.

Jess fell into step beside him, pushing the trolley of wash things. ‘Where did you get that?' she asked. ‘I thought there was a shortage of Christmas trees this year?'

‘Not if you know where to look, there isn't.'

‘Where did you get it?'

Sulley tapped the side of his nose. ‘Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Let's just say a local gamekeeper I know owed me a favour.'

Daisy was waiting for them at the far end of the ward. ‘Is that our tree? Where did you get it?'

Sulley glared at her. ‘Don't you start!'

‘He pinched it,' Jess said.

‘I did not!' Sulley looked offended. ‘And I'll thank you not to go around spreading stories like that, young lady. We're respectable people down here, not like you light-fingered London lot!'

‘They don't call it pinching down here,' Daisy said. ‘They call it poaching.' She nodded towards the tree. ‘I've never heard of anyone poaching a tree, though.'

Sulley's fist closed around the tree trunk, snatching it away from them. His grizzled face was almost hidden behind the foliage. ‘If you two are going to carry on besmirching my good name, I'll take the blessed thing away.'

‘No, don't,' Daisy said. ‘What shall we decorate it with?'

‘There are some old boxes of decorations down in the store room, so I'm told. But don't think I'm fetching them for you,' Sulley replied, still disgruntled.

Sister reluctantly gave them permission to decorate the tree once all their chores were done. Effie came on duty at one o'clock, just as Jess and Daisy were arguing about who should go down to the basement for the decorations.

‘I'm not going down there,' Daisy declared. ‘It's full of spiders and cadavers and rats and all sorts. Besides, I went last time, when I took the soiled dressings down to the incinerator.'

‘The incinerator is not nearly as bad as the basement,' Jess said. ‘Besides, you didn't take those soiled dressings down. I did.'

‘You didn't!'

‘I did!'

Effie emerged from the cloakroom, fastening up her apron. She was humming under her breath.

‘Hello, girls,' she greeted them cheerfully.

Daisy and Jess looked at each other, then as one they both turned to Effie.

‘You have to go down to the basement and collect the box of Christmas decorations,' Daisy told her.

Effie shrugged. ‘If you like.'

Jess regarded her cautiously. ‘Are you sure you don't mind?'

‘Why should I?'

As she went, Daisy said, ‘No one would go down to the basement willingly. Is she sickening for something, do you think?'

‘Love sick, probably, if I know her,' Jess said. ‘She didn't come home until after midnight last night, so I expect there's a man involved.'

Sure enough, when Effie returned with the dusty box of Christmas decorations, she declared, ‘Well, girls, I'm in love!'

‘Not again!' Jess sighed. The RAF had arrived a week ago and Effie had been out with a different man every night since. Once or twice Daisy had gone with her, both of them dressed up to the nines. And every time Effie returned sighing to the Nurses' Home and woke Jess up to tell her she'd met the man of her dreams.

‘It's different this time,' Effie insisted. ‘This time it's real.'

‘Let's hear all about it,' Daisy urged. ‘Who is he? What's his name?'

‘His name's Kit, and he's a pilot.'

‘Aren't they all?' Jess muttered, rooting gingerly through the box. If she unearthed a rat, she would scream the ward down.

‘He's very handsome,' Effie went on, ignoring her. ‘And so dashing. He talks like Leslie Howard. I've always liked men who talk nicely.'

‘He sounds smashing,' Daisy sighed. ‘Does he have a friend?'

‘As a matter of fact, he does,' Effie said. ‘I've arranged for us all to meet up in the Keeper's Rest on Friday night.'

‘Ooh, I can't wait! Daisy squealed with excitement.

‘You can count me out,' Jess said.

Effie pulled a face. ‘Why?'

‘I don't fancy it.'

‘You mean you want to stay in and write another one of your letters to Sam?' Effie teased. ‘Can't you miss one night? The poor lad won't get a chance to read them all! Go on,' she said. ‘Why don't you come out with us, just once?'

‘I told you, I don't fancy it. I'd rather stay at home with a good book. But if you're going out, you might want this.' Jess pulled a sprig of mistletoe out of the box. It had been fashioned out of paper and wire, with cotton-wool berries.

Daisy laughed. ‘Let's put it up over the door to the ward and see if we can get anyone to kiss us!'

‘Knowing my luck, I'll probably get old Sulley!' Jess said.

Daisy twirled the sprig thoughtfully between her fingers. ‘Perhaps we could get someone to kiss Sister?' she said.

Jess laughed. ‘I doubt it! It'd take a mallet on the head, not mistletoe, to get anyone to kiss her …' She broke off, seeing Effie's and Daisy's horrified expressions. She didn't need to turn round to know that Sister Allen was standing just behind her.

‘Jago, Miss Pomfrey needs your attention,' she said shortly.

Had she heard? Jess wondered. Sister was always so angry with her, it was hard to tell.

Miss Pomfrey was sitting up in bed with an embroidery frame propped in front of her.

‘Thread this for me, would you?' She handed Jess the needle and thread. ‘I'd do it myself but I can't be bothered to keep taking my glasses on and off.'

Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do that for you, too?
Jess thought. A please or thank you would have been nice, at least. In the two weeks Miss Pomfrey had been there, she had proved herself a real nuisance. She treated Jess and the other nurses like maids, sending them here and there to do her errands.

What a contrast to poor Mrs Briggs, Jess thought. She was supposed to rest but she couldn't bear to watch the nurses fussing around her.

And as if Miss Pomfrey wasn't unbearable enough, there were the frequent visits from her equally ghastly friend, Mrs Huntley-Osborne. She turned up most days, whenever she felt like it, and stayed for as long as she pleased. It was a terrible nuisance, but Sister said nothing about it.

Jess gritted her teeth, determined not to let her irritation get the better of her. ‘That's beautiful work you're doing,' she admired the embroidery in Miss Pomfrey's lap. ‘Are you making anything special?'

‘I'm embroidering tray cloths for the prisoners-of-war.'

‘And is there much call for tray cloths in prisoner-of war camps?' Jess joked. Miss Pomfrey glared at her, stony-faced.

‘Being a prisoner-of-war is no laughing matter,' she snapped. ‘But since you ask, we will be selling them to raise funds for sending packages out to the POWs. Would you like to buy one?'

‘Um …'

‘You could send it to your mother as a Christmas gift?'

Jess had never even seen her sluttish stepmother Gladys pick up a broom except to hit someone with it. She couldn't imagine her knowing what to do with a tray cloth. Perhaps Sam's mum might like one, though …

Dr Drake appeared like a whirlwind in the doorway to the ward.

‘Sister has asked me to check on a patient.' As usual, he addressed a spot just above Jess's shoulder.

‘I'll fetch her for you, Doctor.' Jess started to walk away, then an impulse seized her and she turned back again. ‘But while you're here, I wondered if you could have a word with Mrs Briggs? The endocarditis patient in bed six.'

Dr Drake stared at her blankly. He couldn't have looked more shocked if his stethoscope had started speaking to him.

‘What about her?' he snapped. ‘Has there been a deterioration?'

‘Oh, no, Doctor. It's just—'

‘What? Spit it out, Nurse!'

Jess took a deep breath. ‘She wants to go home, sir.'

He frowned. ‘What on earth do you mean?'

‘Back to London, sir. She misses her family.'

‘But she's very ill. It's out of the question.'

‘I know, but she misses them so much, I wondered if it might be doing her more harm than good to keep her down here away from them?'

Dr Drake was silent. Jess wasn't sure if he was taking in what she'd said, or working out what to tell Matron when he reported her.

They were interrupted by a sudden snort of laughter from the corner. Jess turned to see Effie and Daisy hiding behind the linen cupboard, giggling helplessly.

A terrible sinking feeling overcame her, and she cast her eyes upwards. There was the sprig of mistletoe, dangling precariously a few inches above their heads.

Dr Drake followed her gaze upwards. He saw the mistletoe, and his angular face suffused with colour.

‘Of all the ridiculous—' He snatched the mistletoe down and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘I suppose you think this is funny, do you? Keeping me talking here while your friends make fun of me?'

Jess's mouth fell open. ‘What? No, sir, I knew nothing about this …' she started to say, but Dr Drake wasn't listening.

‘You might have time to waste, Nurse, but I assure you, I don't!' he bit out, brushing past her.

‘Well!' Daisy said, when he'd gone. ‘Someone can't take a joke.'

‘He's the rudest man I've ever met,' Effie agreed.

Jess said nothing. She had seen the stricken look on his face, and couldn't help feeling sorry for him. ‘He thought we were playing a prank on him,' she said.

‘What if we were? He deserves it,' Daisy declared. ‘You could give me a whole bunch of mistletoe and I still wouldn't kiss him!'

AT LEAST DR
Drake didn't run to Sister as Jess had feared he might. By the time visiting hour arrived at two o'clock, she had started to feel that she might escape punishment.

As the visitors lined up outside, Sister instructed Jess to wait at the door and issue them with tickets as they came in.

‘Remember, only two tickets per patient,' she said, as she always did. ‘If a patient doesn't have a spare ticket, the visitor must wait outside. I will not have my ward overrun with strangers.'

As she handed out the tickets, Jess searched all the visitors' faces for a woman who might be Hilda Reynolds's daughter. She recognised most of the people from their regular visits, but couldn't pick out any strangers in the crowd, let alone any who might be Jean.

The last of the visitors trickled through, and Jess glanced over her shoulder. Hilda was sitting up, craning her neck to see the doors. Jess looked away as she closed them, unable to bear the look of disappointment on the old lady's face.

She went over to Hilda's bed. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, love?' she said. Jess knew she would be in trouble with Sister but she didn't care. She felt she had to offer some comfort, even if it was only a weak cuppa.

‘No, thank you, love. I don't have much of a taste for it these days.' Hilda's brave smile wobbled. ‘Don't look like she's coming, eh?'

‘You never know,' Jess said. ‘It's still early.'

‘I expect it was too difficult for her to get away,' Hilda said. ‘Yes, that'll be it. It's such a long way to come, you see, and she might not have been able to get the time off work.' She shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘It's a pity, though. I would've liked to see my girl.'

Jess pressed her hand. She desperately wished she could say the right thing to comfort Hilda. ‘Are you sure you wouldn't like that cup of tea?'

‘Ta, love, but I'd rather go to sleep, if it's all right with you?'

‘Of course. Here, I'll sort your pillows for you so you're more comfortable.'

By the time she'd finished rearranging the pillows and straightening the bedding, Hilda had already drifted off to sleep. Jess watched her for a moment, the fine blue veins of her eyelids standing out against the creamy yellow of her skin.

Four o'clock came, and Sister rang her bell to announce the end of visiting time. Just as Jess was ushering the last of the visitors out, a woman came running up the passageway, red-faced and breathless, dragging two children behind her.

‘Come on, kids!' she snapped at them. ‘Get a move on, we're late enough as it is!'

She saw Jess and hurried towards her. ‘Excuse me, love, is this Female Medical Ward? Only I'm looking for my mum.'

The woman looked untidy and harassed, but there was something instantly familiar about her warm smile and bright eyes. ‘You must be Jean?' Jess said.

‘That's right, love. You know my old mum, then? How is she?'

‘She'll be all the better for seeing you, I expect. We didn't think you were coming?'

‘I know! It's been bleedin' murder all the way down. First the train dropped us miles from anywhere, then we found out the buses weren't running.' She rolled her eyes. ‘On my life, I ain't never setting foot outside Stepney again if I can help it!'