Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (12 page)

But not any more.

She went back to the Lodge, still steaming with anger. Henry rushed to greet her, Nanny Perks following close behind.

‘I'm ready!' he cried.

Millie stared at him blankly. It was only when she saw his riding clothes that she remembered her promise.

‘We're not going,' she said.

‘No!' Henry cried.

‘But you promised the child,' Nanny reminded her.

‘I know what I promised, but we can't go.' Her mind was already elsewhere, racing ahead. She would write a letter, she decided. Not to William, but to the Wing Commander, telling him exactly what she thought. Or even to the Air Chief Marshal …

Henry's lip stuck out. Seeing him hovering on the edge of tears, Millie tried to placate him.

‘Don't cry, darling, please.' She crouched down so her face was level with his. ‘We can do something else. I could teach you a new card game …'

‘Don't want cards!' Henry shouted. ‘I want to see the aeroplanes.'

‘Well, we can't,' Millie snapped. ‘We're not going to see those wretched planes again, do you understand? It's bad enough that we have to have them here at all.'

Henry's face crumpled. He had never seen his mother lose her temper before, and Millie could see at once how much it frightened him.

‘Henry …'

She reached for him but he fled. Millie went to go after him, but Nanny Perks stopped her.

‘It's better if I see to him.' Her disapproving look said it all.

Millie sank down on the window seat, utterly wretched. Now her own son was frightened of her. She was a stupid, hopeless mother as well as everything else. Nanny Perks was quite right to treat her with contempt.

Her grandmother came in. ‘What on earth is all the shouting about?'

‘Nothing, Granny.'

Her grandmother peered at her. ‘Are you quite well, Amelia? You look as if you've been crying.'

She fished out her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘I think I might be getting a cold, that's all.'

Lady Rettingham's inquisitive expression turned to one of dismay. ‘Please tell me you're well enough to go to the Claremonts'?' she said. ‘I don't think I could bear it if we had to cancel our arrangements. I can't wait to get away.'

Millie looked out of the window, at the landscape filled with slate-blue uniforms. ‘Neither can I, Granny,' she said.

HILDA REYNOLDS DIED
late on Friday morning.

Jess was in the middle of scrubbing the bathroom just before lunch when Sister Allen summoned her and announced matter-of-factly that Mrs Reynolds had been moved to one of the private rooms off the ward corridor, and that Jess would have to perform last offices.

‘I can't spare anyone else to help you as it's almost time for the midday meal,' she said briskly. ‘And please be quick about it. I am off duty this afternoon, and I don't want to be delayed.'

‘Of course, Sister. Heaven forbid you should be inconvenienced!' Jess muttered as she vented her temper on stripping Mrs Reynolds's bed, attacking the iron rails with Lysol and a scrubbing brush, as if she could scrub away her anger and sadness.

Poor Mrs Reynolds. And her poor daughter, too. Jean would be devastated that she'd missed her chance to say goodbye to her mother.

Hilda Reynolds looked perfectly peaceful, the blinds drawn so that the side room was filled with murky shadows. In spite of what Sister had said, Jess took her time, washing Hilda carefully, combing out her long, fine strands of hair and arranging them into two plaits, tied with white ribbon. It took her several attempts to get them right, as her hands were shaking with rage.

How she detested Sister Allen and this wretched hospital! She could never have imagined any ward sister in London, no matter how spiteful, denying a dying woman the joy of seeing her family for the last time. Especially when they'd travelled all day to see her. Miss Fox would never have allowed it, Jess decided.

But Miss Fox wasn't here. Instead they had to put up with Miss Jenkins, who was every bit as vindictive as Sister Allen.

Jess had learned to put up with the rough treatment that all the London nurses received. But to make the patients suffer through no fault of their own was too much …

She dressed Hilda in a clean nightgown, and rolled white stockings up over her stick-thin legs. At least the poor woman was at peace from her dreadful illness now, although that wouldn't be any consolation to her family. Jess wondered if she should write to Jean, to let her know that her mother hadn't suffered? She knew the hospital would contact her, but felt as if she wanted to add her own condolences.

She was busy mentally composing a letter in her head when she heard Mrs Huntley-Osborne's braying voice passing the door. She was on her way down the corridor.

Jess looked at the watch on her bib. It was nearly one o'clock. Sister Allen would have gone off duty by now.

She came out of the bathroom, rolling down her sleeves, and met Daisy.

‘Oh, hello,' the other girl greeted her cheerfully. ‘Have you finished with Mrs Reynolds? Such a shame, isn't it? We've just finished serving the meal, and Sister's just gone off duty, so …' Daisy must have seen the light of combat in Jess's eyes because she stopped and said warily, ‘What's wrong?'

She nodded in the direction of Mrs Huntley-Osborne's broad rear, disappearing through the double doors to the ward. ‘What's she doing here?'

‘Come to visit Miss Pomfrey, I expect. Now, shall I put the kettle on, or will you?'

‘In a minute. I'm going to have a word with Mrs Huntley-Osborne first.'

‘What? No, you can't! Jago—' But Daisy's words were lost as Jess marched down the corridor.

Mrs Huntley-Osborne was already at Miss Pomfrey's bedside when Jess caught up with her.

She cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me,' she said. ‘I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

Mrs Huntley-Osborne turned to her. She was even more formidable up close, with that square jaw and her bulky body encased in tweed. The fox stole around her neck stared at Jess, glassy-eyed.

‘I beg your pardon?' she said.

Jess stood her ground. ‘Visiting hours are Wednesdays and Sundays, from two until four. It is now –' she looked at her watch again ‘– twenty-past one on a Friday afternoon. You shouldn't be here.'

Ensconced in bed, Miss Pomfrey let out a little yelp of outrage. ‘Do you know who you're talking to?' she spluttered. ‘This is Mrs Huntley-Osborne!'

‘I don't care if it's the Queen of Sheba, she ain't allowed here outside visiting time. Rules are rules,' Jess parroted Sister Allen's words firmly.

Mrs Huntley-Osborne drew herself up to her full height. ‘I will talk to Sister about this. Where is she?'

‘She ain't here. Now, if you don't leave immediately, I will call a porter to have you removed,' said Jess.

She and Mrs Huntley-Osborne stood toe to toe, eyeballing each other. Jess barely came up to the other woman's shoulder, but she refused to be intimidated. She was an East End girl, and she'd faced down tougher types than this old windbag.

But all the same, she was relieved when Mrs Huntley-Osborne turned away and snatched up her bag.

‘Very well,' she said. ‘But, believe me, you haven't heard the last of this. I shall be speaking to Matron.'

Daisy was hiding in the corridor, watching the scene unfold. She hurried after Jess as she returned to the bathroom.

‘What do you think you're doing?' she hissed. ‘You can't talk to Mrs Huntley-Osborne like that!'

‘Why not? I don't think it's fair to have one rule for one person, and another for everyone else.' She took off her cuffs and rolled up her sleeves. ‘If Mrs Reynolds's daughter can't come in five minutes late, I don't see why an old witch like that can turn up whenever she feels like it.'

‘Yes, but all the same … you do realise she's going to go straight to Matron, don't you?' Daisy said.

‘What can she do?' Jess shrugged.

A moment later, the ward telephone rang.

‘I think you're just about to find out,' Daisy replied.

Jess was still reeling from her bruising encounter with Matron as she left the hospital with Daisy and Effie after their shift finished at eight.

‘So she's putting you on nights on the Fever Wards as punishment?' Daisy laughed. ‘She must be utterly furious with you!'

‘She wasn't best pleased,' Jess said.

It was an understatement. Miss Jenkins had been so incandescent with rage, Jess thought she was going to hurl herself across the desk that separated them.

‘Is this true, Nurse?' she had demanded, her pale eyes bulging. ‘You had the temerity to eject Mrs Huntley-Osborne from the ward?'

‘It was out of visiting hours, Matron,' Jess tried to defend herself, but Miss Jenkins was having none of it.

‘It is not for you to decide who should be where and when in this hospital. Mrs Huntley-Osborne happens to be Chair of the Hospital Fund-Raising Committee, as well as a dear personal friend of mine. I will not have her spoken to in such an offhand manner. I can only put it down to the fact that you have not been properly trained in how to deal with people. I could never imagine one of my own nurses …'

And so it went on. And all the while, Jess was aware of Mrs Huntley-Osborne standing behind Matron's shoulder, a smug expression on her square-jawed face.

‘Poor Mrs Huntley-Osborne,' Daisy giggled. ‘I don't think anyone's ever said no to her.'

‘Then it's about time someone did,' Jess muttered. ‘Nasty old busybody, thinks she's better than everyone else.'

‘Oh, no, I've just had a thought,' Effie cried. ‘You do realise that you'll probably be on nights over Christmas?'

Jess pulled a face. ‘I hadn't thought of that.'

‘That's a shame,' Daisy said. ‘Christmas is always such fun on the wards, isn't it? There's the carol singing, and the presents, and the Christmas show …'

‘All right, you don't have to rub it in!' Jess said irritably.

‘Well, that settles it, then. If you're going to spend the next few weeks in isolation, you've definitely got to come out with us tonight,' Effie said. ‘No, don't argue.' She held up her hand as Jess started to protest. ‘You've got to have some fun, my girl. Go on, please? I'm sure Sam wouldn't want you to shut yourself away for his sake.'

Jess considered it for a moment. ‘You're right,' she agreed.

‘Then you'll come?' Effie's blue eyes lit up with excitement. ‘Oh, that's grand!'

‘But I don't want you trying to fix me up with anyone,' Jess warned.

‘Of course not.'

‘I mean it. I'm not interested.'

‘I won't, I promise,' Effie said solemnly.

Back at the Nurses' Home, Miss Carrington appeared in the hall as they were taking off their cloaks. ‘There's a letter for you, O'Hara,' she said.

‘A letter, Sister?' Effie looked up, shock written all over her face.

Jess nudged her. ‘Don't look so surprised, I expect your mother's written to you at last.'

Miss Carrington held the envelope at arm's length and squinted at it. ‘It was originally sent to London, and it's been redirected here.' She looked at Effie over her spectacles. ‘You silly girl, why didn't you give your family your new address?'

Effie's face turned pink. ‘I thought I had. She must have forgotten it.'

‘Well, it looks as if she's found you anyway,' Miss Carrington said.

‘Yes,' Effie said slowly. ‘She has, hasn't she?'

Jess noticed her friend's expression as Miss Carrington handed over the letter. She looked so wary, it might have been a hand grenade she was taking.

‘I'll read it later,' she said, shoving it into her pocket.

Jess didn't think any more about it as they got ready for their night out. It was so long since she had gone out, it felt strange to be dressing up. Not that she had anything very fancy to wear, just her usual skirt, blouse and cardigan.

Effie was dressed up to the nines as usual, in a blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes. Her dark curls were swept up and fastened at the back of her head with a matching ribbon.

‘What did your mother have to say?' Jess asked Effie as she watched her putting on her shoes.

‘What?'

‘Your letter? It was from your mother, wasn't it?'

‘Oh … yes, it was. But I haven't had a chance to read it yet.' Effie stood up and grabbed her bag. ‘Come on, we'll be late.'

The Keeper's Rest was a sea of slate blue, with RAF and Canadian Air Force uniforms everywhere they looked.

‘I can't see Kit anywhere …' Effie scanned the crowd, craning her neck to see.

‘Perhaps he isn't here?' Jess edged aside to allow a pair of WAAFs to squeeze past. The crush of so many bodies around her was making it difficult to breathe.

‘Oh, he'll be here …yes, look, there he is. Kit! Kit!' Effie waved madly, her voice carrying across the noisy bar.

He pushed his way through the crowd to greet them. He was just as Effie had described him, tall and good-looking with sleek fair hair and an aristocratic, high-cheekboned face.

‘Darling!' He swooped Effie up in his arms and gave her a long, extravagant kiss. Daisy and Jess looked at each other, embarrassed.

Finally they separated, and Effie said, ‘These are my friends, Jess and Daisy.'

‘Pleased to meet you, ladies.' He spoke in a lazy, upper-class drawl. ‘Come over and meet the others.'

He led them to a corner table, where two young men sat with beers in front of them. One was a handsome giant, with thick fair hair and clear blue eyes. The other was small, wiry and very dark, with a lively face that didn't seem able to stop smiling.