A Nurse's Duty (23 page)

Nick hurried to do her bidding and the men teased him gently.

‘You like Sister, don’t you, Nick? Her boyfriend, are you?’ said one and the others chuckled.

‘Don’t tease him,’ said Karen, but Nick was not offended. He was smiling broadly, delighted with the idea. Since Karen had told them that she was leaving to go back North, he had been despondent. He did not want to stay in Essex without her. It made him anxious to go home himself, at least he would be closer to her there. Before that he had been dreading his discharge from the hospital.

*

Next morning, as Karen let herself out of the front door of Greenfields, she saw a priest walking up the drive. A priest who, as he drew nearer, looked strangely familiar.

‘It’s Father Donelly, isn’t it?’ she asked as he walked up to her as though he intended to speak to her. ‘Are you here instead of Father Murphy?’ Had Patrick decided it was best for him not to risk meeting her? Karen wondered, her hurt feelings surfacing.

‘Good morning, Sister,’ said Sean Donelly, his face unsmiling. ‘No, I’m not here to replace Father Murphy, I’m here to see you. Do you mind if I walk with you to the village?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Karen, her brow wrinkling in mystification. They fell into step, Karen peeping up at Sean’s forbidding expression as they walked.

‘It’s not Doctor Richardson, is it?’ she said at last. ‘Is Robert all right?’

‘He was when I left Durham,’ said Sean. ‘In fact his health has improved greatly. No, it’s nothing to do with Robert.’ He paused before turning to face her. ‘I had a letter from Patrick,’ he said. ‘I came down to Essex to see him, to persuade him to give you up.’

‘Oh.’

Karen was white-faced. She walked over to the hedge and stared over it to the river, its brown water turbulent in its rush to the sea.

‘Did he ask you to talk to me?’ she said after a moment.

‘No, he did not. I have not seen him. Evidently he has gone up to London to visit his brother. Father Brown said Patrick has not been himself these last few weeks, so he told him to take a week off as his brother was home.’

Karen turned to face Sean, looking up into his face. He returned her gaze unblinkingly, his condemnation of her plain to see. She bit her lip.

‘Patrick told me about you, though. He wrote to me. That’s why I came down to see him. I have to stop him, make him see what a
terrible
sin it will be if he doesn’t give you up. And you – you must go away, leave him. Don’t you know you are endangering his mortal soul? And you yourself will be damned as an instrument of the devil.’

‘No! It’s not like that. I love Patrick. In my church we could marry, we could be happy.’

‘Your church? What are you talking about, woman? He is a
Catholic
priest.’

Sean took hold of her by the arm and swung her round to face him, bending his head to her, his eyes glittering.

‘But you are married already, aren’t you? Oh, yes, I know about you. I made it my business to find out about you. Your husband deserted you, and went to Australia. But you are still married to him.’

‘I’m not. I’m a widow. He was killed …’

‘A widow, are you? But you weren’t a widow when you used your wiles to entangle Robert Richardson, were you? Oh, yes, he told me about you. Do you realize you ruined his life too?’

‘No, I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault if Robert fell in love with me. I told him about Dave.’

‘And did you tell Patrick about your husband?’

Karen suddenly slumped. No, she hadn’t told him about Dave, she thought dully.

‘Oh, what does it matter now anyway? You’ve wasted your time coming here, Father Donelly. I’m going home, I leave at the end of the month. I gave Matron my notice this morning. Now let me go home, I’m tired. I’ve been working all night.’

‘I’ll let you go in a minute. First I want your promise that you won’t get in touch with Father Murphy again.’

‘I’ll have to see him in the hospital, I have the rest of the month to work,’ she pointed out.

‘Then go now, make some excuse. Go before Patrick comes back.’ Sean was uncompromising.

‘Leave me be!’

Karen had had as much as she could take. Wrenching her arm from the priest’s grasp, she ran off down the lane to the safety of Annie’s cottage.

‘Lies breed lies,’ Gran used to say, and Karen could almost hear her saying it when she stood before Matron yet again and said she had to leave immediately.

‘My mother is worse,’ she said, ‘I have to go.’

‘Well,’ said Matron, not without sympathy for she could see that her Night Sister was distraught, ‘if you must, you must. At least it would have been your free night tonight, so I have a little time to rearrange the staffing. I would advise you to have a good night’s sleep and travel tomorrow, though. You’ll be no use to your family if you collapse on them too.’

Nick was waiting for Karen outside the office. ‘I’m going home too, Sister,’ he said, full of excitement. ‘Saturday, I’m going.’

‘Good for you, Nick,’ Karen answered, managing a smile. ‘I hope you have somewhere to stay?’

‘Yes, Sister. I have the address of a boarding house in Durham. Will I be able to come to see you, Sister?’

‘Why, yes, you can.’ Karen forced herself to think of him, of how he had stayed at the hospital longer than usual because his disturbed nightmares were still recurring. ‘I am glad you’re going home, Nick,’ she added warmly. ‘That means you’re getting better, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, I’m better,’ he answered. ‘If I write to you, Sister, will you write to me?’ Nick sounded diffident. Perhaps she didn’t care whether she saw him again or not, perhaps she was only being polite. He had had too many rebuffs in his life to suppose anyone could like him for himself.

‘Of course, Nick.’ Karen’s smile widened into a grin. ‘Don’t you think I’ll miss your cheeky face?’

He beamed, his cheeks flushed with happiness. All he needed was her approval.

Karen picked up a notepad and wrote down the address of her parents. ‘I can always be reached there,’ she said, ‘even if I’m working away.’

Nick put the slip of paper in his pocket as Karen pulled on her cloak for the last time.

‘Goodbye, Nick, look after yourself.’

‘’Bye, Sister, I’ll see you soon,’ he answered. She glanced around the hall, feeling a sense of finality and regret. Then she began walking down the drive of the old house.

It was a fine, bright morning for a change, with a promising hint of spring in the air and snowdrops in full bloom under the hedgerow. Jewel-like crocuses peeped from beneath the beech trees which lined the drive and daffodil leaves were thrusting up towards the sun.

Looking back from the gate, an unexpectedly piercing shaft of pain shot through her for what might have been, together with a terrible longing to see Patrick, just once more. But she knew she could not. Sadly she walked on down the lane to the cottage.

Next morning, Karen was up early but not before Annie. She could hear her landlady moving about in the kitchen. This was the day, thought Karen, she was going and she would never see Patrick again. Drearily, she washed and dressed and finished packing her boxes before going downstairs.

‘Now, Karen,’ Annie greeted her as she came downstairs, ‘I want you to eat a proper breakfast today. You’ve that long journey ahead of you after all.’ She was using her firm, no-nonsense tone of voice.

‘There’s porridge and bacon and eggs. I’ve waited for you, too. I thought we might eat breakfast together as it’s your last day.’ She looked Karen up and down. ‘You’re so thin, I’m sure your mother will think I haven’t been feeding you properly.’

Karen smiled and followed her into the kitchen, sitting down at the table obediently though she didn’t feel the least bit hungry. She watched Annie bustling about with plates of food, thinking how fond she had grown of the older woman.

‘I’ll miss you,’ she said.

Annie paused, looking at the plate of porridge she was about to put down in front of Karen.

‘Me too,’ she said softly. ‘It’ll be lonely here without you.’ She soon cheered up though. ‘Well, my menfolk will be back soon. This war can’t go on much longer, can it?’

Karen managed to eat the porridge before Annie took away the plates and brought on the fried food, talking cheerfully as she did so.

‘Now, I’ve put you up a nice lunch, some cold chicken and a pasty. And there’s some of my …’ She broke off in dismay as Karen rose to her feet abruptly, upsetting her tea cup, and rushed out into the yard to the drain where she was promptly very sick. Bent double, she retched miserably, over and over. Then, leaning against the stone wall of the cottage, she struggled to regain her composure. Slowly, she managed to still her pounding heart and fight back the waves of nausea.

‘Come on now, come to your bed. I don’t think you should go all that way today. You’re not well enough, you need a rest. Leave it until tomorrow.’

Annie was beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders and leading her back indoors to the warmth of the fire. A quick suspicion had entered her mind as to the real reason for Karen’s precipitate flight home.

‘Are you sure you haven’t got something to tell me?’ she asked as Karen relaxed in the armchair. ‘Is this because some man has let you down? I only want to help you, Karen.’

Blankly, she stared at Annie’s worried face. What did she mean, what was she talking about now? Had she guessed about Patrick? Karen’s face flooded with colour but then she chided herself.
Annie
couldn’t possibly know about Patrick. Oh, no! The realization hit her. Annie thought she was pregnant.

‘I’m all right, really I am. I must have eaten something which disagreed with me, that’s all. I’m not in any trouble, really I’m not.’ How could she be? This time, the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. In any case, it was too early for symptoms, much too early, she told herself.

Earnestly, she gazed at Annie who gazed steadily back, saying nothing. Her suspicions were growing stronger by the minute. Karen sat down at the table, willing herself to act normally. She surveyed the congealing food in front of her and had a hard job not to rush out into the back yard again. Carefully, she held her head up and looked out of the window at the variegated ivy on the barn wall. After a short while, the nausea receded and she felt able to talk.

‘I will still go today, Annie. I’m perfectly well and can get a lift to the station with the carrier. I’ve asked him to stop for me.’

‘Well, I can’t stop you, Karen,’ said Annie, ‘but I still think you would do better to wait until tomorrow.’

‘No, I’ve made up my mind,’ Karen said. ‘I’ll go today.’

Annie recognized the determination in her voice and said no more.

At ten o’clock, Karen duly climbed aboard the carrier’s cart, bound for Littlemarsh. He slung her boxes in the back and they were ready to go.

‘Goodbye, Annie, thanks for everything you’ve done for me. I’ll write and let you know how I’m getting on.’

Karen waved to Annie, standing forlorn at the cottage gate, until a bend in the road hid her from sight. She felt like weeping herself. Annie had been a good friend to her during her stay in Essex. For a moment she almost asked the carrier to stop, to let her off. Panic swept over her. She was going home, she wanted to, but never to see Patrick again … was she being too hasty? Might he have come round if she had stayed?

Sweet Lord, she prayed, closing her eyes, please let me see him again, please. I couldn’t bear not seeing him again.

‘Are you all right, Sister?’ asked the carrier. Karen opened her eyes and looked into his concerned face.

‘Just tired, thank you,’ she answered. And she was, she thought, tired to death.

Chapter Fourteen

THE BASKET WEAVE
boxes were heavy on Karen’s arms as she struggled out of Morton station, named for the village half a mile away, the original settlement, not the cramped rows of the mining community. Somehow she had to make it to old Morton village and out the other side to the unmade road which led to the colliery village.

The wind was, if anything, more biting than it had been in Durham City, sweeping over the hills and small valleys. Putting down her boxes, she pinned on her hat more securely and wrapped her scarf around it for good measure. Taking a firmer grip on her luggage, she set off.

Her heart leapt with love and delight as a man came round a bend in the road pulling a bogey behind him. His cap was pulled down tightly over his ears and his white muffler crossed over his chest as, with one hand in his pocket and the other pulling the home-made cart, he strode up to his daughter and planted a warm, whiskery kiss on her cheek.

‘Da! You got my letter then?’ Karen flung her arms around him with an exuberance which made him back off uncertainly. Such a show of emotion!

‘You all right, lass?’ His gruff, well-remembered voice almost made her break down and sob out her story there and then, but she controlled herself firmly.

‘I’m fine, Da, just fine. And you? And Mam?’

‘We’re in grand fettle. Your mam hasn’t been bad for weeks. I thought I’d bring the bogey, likely your boxes are heavy.’ He busied himself stacking the boxes on the cart. ‘I’m in fore shift so
I
don’t have to go down till twelve. I reckoned I’d just see you home first.’

‘Oh, Da,’ cried Karen, ‘all this way and you have to go to work. You shouldn’t have come, I could have managed.’

He regarded her solemnly. ‘I think not. No lass of mine is going to wander the roads at this time of night on her own.’ He stopped and looked sternly at her. ‘That’s not what you got up to in London, is it?’

Karen laughed helplessly, reminded of the times he had stood on the corner of the street waiting for her when she was courting Dave, to make sure she was in the house by nine.

‘Well, then.’ Taking hold of the rope and pulling the bogey round, he set off in the direction of Morton Main, Karen trotting beside him. They spoke little. He was a naturally silent man unless he was in the pulpit, but the silence was companionable.

At last the familiar view of the towering pit-head winding wheel and the giant slagheap could be seen outlined against the sky. Four rows of houses were strung out from the pit yard while on a slight prominence a more imposing house set in a large garden stood in splendid isolation – the manager’s house. At the opposite end of the village the Chapel stood foursquare, watching over the rows which were lit by gas from the colliery. In another few minutes, Da was leading the way into Chapel Row and Karen was home at last.