The Nurse's War (20 page)

After the firestorm, the streets were unnaturally quiet, empty of human life except for the occasional ‘lady of the night’ who continued to stroll the shattered pavements, finely dressed and wholly indifferent to the wreckage she walked through. It was hardly surprising she continued to ply her trade, Daisy thought. Not when the demand for prostitutes was so high, and a woman on the street could earn fifty times as much as a girl in the shop.

They had been travelling towards the river and now turned onto the Embankment. Idly, she glanced to her right, then jerked herself upright, staring blindly through the cab’s window. She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, for the Thames was changed out of all recognition. It was scarlet—scarlet water. In fact, not water at all it seemed, but a thin wash of red dye. Fires raged fiercely on each of its banks, their demon glow mirrored in the depths of the ancient river. It was too horrible to look on and she slumped back into her seat. But fire was inescapable; it was everywhere. As they approached the City, she could see the red blaze highlighting the dome of St Paul’s against an overcast sky, a doomsday silhouette. Around the cathedral, great gaps had been torn between rows of houses; those left standing stared blindly and darkly at nothing. The few small gardens had been desecrated, with earth and rubble and fragments of furniture piled high where once sooty flowers had bloomed. The taxi crunched its way over street after street of splintered glass. Twice, maybe three times as many houses had been destroyed or damaged than she had ever seen before.

Wardens were out in force, still scouring the worst hit areas. Hours ago they’d rescued the living, and now came the grim task of collecting body parts and taking them to the mortuary in the hope of identifying those who’d perished. She looked away, averting her eyes from the sacks that stood ready at the side of the road. On into the East End and the streets were a little busier here, though for the moment
the business of everyday life was suspended. Groups of exhausted bystanders had emerged from their overnight shelter and were standing motionless on street corners, gazing dumbly ahead. It was as though by continuing to stand and gaze, they could convince themselves that they’d come through, that they were still alive.

Daisy needed no convincing. She had never felt more alive, wonderfully alive. But it seemed wrong to feel so when others were weighted with sorrow. For the first time that morning, she thought of Connie and prayed that the Astoria had been spared. A spasm of guilt took hold that she hadn’t thought of her friend before. Back at the hospital, her first task must be to go in search of her. The taxi was barely moving now. It had entered a down-at-heel road where, by a strange quirk of fortune, most of the properties had survived undamaged. She glanced up at the street sign. Gower’s Walk—her destination. Halfway down the street and hemmed in by houses on either side, was the shop Gerald had described. It was a drab building of dirty yellow brick, with a striped awning that had been shredded by the elements and flapped dolefully in the breeze. The woodwork seemed never to have seen a brushstroke of paint, and when she peered into the shop’s one window, its grime was so thick that she was unable to make out any of the goods for sale. Not that there were many, she could see, once she’d pushed the door open. It appeared that Mr Rigby was as penniless as his neighbours.

The bell clanged and the man behind the counter looked
up unsmilingly. When she handed him the envelope, he grunted. When he looked at the name, he spat on the sawdust floor.

‘You will give it to Mr Minns when he calls,’ she said anxiously.

‘He’ll get it, don’t worry.’ His voice was incongruously high. He spat again. ‘No justice in the world,’ she heard him mutter in the same high voice, as he trailed off to the rear of the shop with the envelope in his hand.

She had no idea what he meant but it was clear that Gerald was not a favoured customer. She wondered if the man might know her husband’s address. If so, she could deliver the papers personally, but he didn’t come back, and when she heard him shuffling and mumbling in the distance, she thought better of it. It was more than likely the shopkeeper didn’t know. Gerald had been careful never to say where he was living. And if, by chance, she discovered the address, he might be angry if she turned up unannounced. She might even put him in danger by doing so. The Indians he feared were sure to be in the house still, and she couldn’t dismiss his worries over them as readily as Grayson had.

But, since the kidnapping attempt, it appeared that Grayson himself was having second thoughts. It seemed incredible that Gerald’s supposed enemies were the very same men who had tried to abduct the envoy Grayson and his colleagues were protecting. But there were surely not that many Indians in London. And if they were the same,
were they also the very same people who’d been following her? If indeed she
had
been followed. She was still not entirely certain there’d been anybody, and not sure either why her mind connected a possible stalker with what had happened in Kingsway. She’d had a vague feeling that she’d seen the driver of the saloon before. But where?

Of course, she couldn’t have. She walked quickly back to the waiting cab and scolded herself for silliness. She couldn’t have recognised the driver of the speeding car. And she’d been only vaguely conscious of a figure watching her. A shadow more than a figure, always on the periphery of her vision. But if there had been someone watching her and he was still watching … no, she was sure that no one had seen her go into the shop with the envelope, or leave without it. All would be well. Grayson had told her that Patel was meeting with a senior government minister midweek for final negotiations. Congress would decide then whether or not to involve India in Britain’s fight and, once the talking was finished and the deed done—one way or another—any threat was bound to vanish, whether to her or to Gerald or to Grayson.

Her heart gave another of those peculiar little bounces as her mind sounded his name. The knowledge that she would see him very soon trumped the weariness snapping at her heels. Tuesday was only two days away and already her mind was busy working on how best to get the necessary time off duty. She’d begun to count the hours before they were together again, she realised, and that was ridiculous.
She might have allowed Grayson closer than she could ever have imagined, but her deepest feelings remained unchanged. She would never again commit, not in the way she had as the young woman who’d flung herself body and soul into what she’d believed the love of her life. The affair with Grayson could never be more than loving friends and she hoped he would accept this truth. For months she’d kept her distance from him, for fear of the hurt she might cause, but last night had changed them. Distance was no longer possible. Last night they’d embarked on unexplored waters and she could only hope they would each find their own safe harbour.

Her spirits were still bubbling when she walked on to the ward an hour later. The sight of Connie talking to a patient at the far end of the room filled her with relief. But it was clear that every nurse was working at full stretch, both on the ward and in the adjoining corridor, where a line of stretchers had been temporarily parked. Many of those injured from the night’s wreckage had already been patched up or sent to theatre, but more victims were arriving all the time. Nurses rushed back and forth, fetching water and towels, fielding kidney dishes, pressuring wounds pumping blood at an alarming rate. Or they simply sat and held patients’ hands in an attempt to console and comfort. Daisy made ready to plunge into the fray.

‘A word, Driscoll.’ Sister Elton had appeared at her shoulder and was beckoning her towards the small glass office to one side of the ward.

Daisy went with a heavy heart. She had no difficulty in foreseeing the interview to come.

‘Sister Phillips tells me that you did not return to the Home last night. And you are an hour late coming on to the ward.’

‘I’m sorry, Sister. I was invited to supper and was caught out by the bombing raid.’

‘Do you think you are the only nurse who went out on Saturday evening?’

‘No, Sister,’ she murmured, her eyes downcast.

‘Others have managed to return and report for duty on time. Why not you?’

‘I was at the Ritz.’ Sister Elton’s eyebrows twitched. ‘They wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.’ The Sister’s eyebrows twitched even more rapidly. Daisy staggered on, ‘They insisted we took shelter below ground and I wasn’t able to get away until this morning.’

The senior nurse said nothing more, but walked over to her desk and began, sheet by sheet, to flick through a sheaf of papers piled high on its surface. Then, methodically, she rearranged the sheets and placed them into a manila folder. All the while Daisy waited for her sentence to fall.

‘My nurses are not in the habit of visiting the Ritz, Driscoll, and I have no idea of the arrangements that
pertain there. But since you will not have worked your full shift, you will have no time off for the next three days.’

‘But Sister—’ Tuesday’s delights were dwindling into the mist.

‘You have something to say, Nurse Driscoll?’

‘No, Sister.’

‘Then go back to the ward and work. You are needed.’

And needed she was. For the next six hours she worked without pause, her mind bristling with resentment that she would be unable to meet Grayson as they’d planned, while all the while her hands routinely bandaged limbs, stuck plasters and swabbed wounds.

She was passing down the ward towards the sluice room, carrying yet another bowl of water turned crimson with blood, when Mrs Oliver called her over.

‘You’re not happy today, Nurse.’ The old lady’s eyes were sharp.

‘I’m fine, Mrs Oliver. It’s been a little frantic.’

‘That it has. And no wonder. The noise last night! Truth to tell, I thought it was all up with us, thought I’d be seeing my Edward sooner than I expected. But somehow the bombs missed.’

‘The hospital was lucky.’ Daisy rested her bowl on the bedside table. She dare not stay talking too long or Sister Elton would be at her shoulder with another reprimand.

‘And the bombs missed you too, my dear. Wherever you were.’

She had no wish to get into another conversation about
her whereabouts. She gave the old lady a gentle smile and made ready to move off. But Mrs Oliver hadn’t lived for eighty years without learning to read below the surface.

‘Don’t let that Sister upset you. You’ll get to see him—I’ll make sure of it.’

Daisy looked astonished.

‘That’s what it’s about, isn’t it?’ Mrs Oliver heaved herself upright against her pile of pillows. ‘I saw Missus Frosty Face take you into the office. You were positively glowing when you came onto the ward, but after she’d finished with you, you looked as though you’d had a good whipping. I know you were seeing your young man last night. It had to be about that. Am I right?’

Daisy couldn’t deny it, but marvelled at how transparent she must be. And all the time she’d thought herself so discreet.

‘When were you supposed to meet?’ Mrs Oliver asked.

‘The day after tomorrow. After lunch. It’s when I usually get my free time except—’

‘Except there’s no free time now,’ the old lady finished for her. ‘I’ve got a little plan. I’ve been working it out and it’s simple. On Tuesday, I’ll play up a bit. The nurses know me for a placid old soul so they won’t know what to do with me if I misbehave. They’ll call the dragon over to help, and I’ll keep her busy. You can steal out and have a few words with your beau, and she won’t even know.’

‘Mrs Oliver, you are a wicked woman!’

‘If that’s my only sin, I’ll be up in heaven alongside Edward in no time at all.’

Daisy squeezed the old lady’s hand and continued to the sluice, smiling inwardly. She didn’t know if the ruse would work but she was grateful, and it was certainly worth a try.

By teatime the trickle of new patients was ended and she was able at last to retreat to the nurses’ station. She had begun to feel dangerously light-headed and there would just be time to snatch a slice of toast and a cup of tea. As she was finishing stacking her china, Connie appeared in the doorway with a knowing smile on her face.

‘Who’s a naughty girl then?’ she whispered provocatively.

Daisy felt the annoyingly familiar blush gather strength, but she decided to put on a bold front. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Not much, you don’t. I came to check you were okay last night. And guess what, no Daisy. And no Daisy this morning either.’

‘The raid was really bad, you know that. It prevented us leaving the hotel.’

‘I bet it did.’

Her friend’s eyes looked suddenly alert. She had spied Sister Elton, who had slipped into the nurses’ station and was now advancing on them. At least that spared her further interrogation, Daisy thought. ‘You’re to tell me every single detail—this evening,’ Connie hissed, as she made a rapid retreat. ‘No excuses. Fire duty is off.’

And she was right, fire duty was off. A cluster of
incendiary bombs had been dropped on the hospital roof the previous night, and those nurses acting as wardens had donned their tin hats and rushed to do battle. Between them, they’d put out every single fire, but a great deal of debris had been left behind, and the fire-watching rota had been suspended until such time as the male orderlies gained access to the roof and cleared it of any danger. Daisy received her reprieve thankfully. She was utterly fatigued, and the thought of spending five or six cold hours on an exposed roof was uninviting. It was the end of her shift and she wanted to sleep. But that wasn’t going to happen, at least not yet. Connie would not allow it.

C
HAPTER
12

‘
Y
ou’re not going to slink off to bed. Don’t even think of it,’ her friend said, as they filed into the dining hall. ‘We’ll have our meal and then we’ll talk.’ It was evident Connie was bursting to spill the news of her evening at the Astoria.

As usual, supper was nondescript and left Daisy thinking longingly of the partridge, but the meal was mercifully as short as it was bland, and they were soon making their way towards the nurses’ sitting room. They were about to walk through the door, when a girl came flying out, almost cannoning into Connie who was a step ahead.