Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (22 page)

‘Hmm?'

‘The tracheostomy.' Of course he wouldn't know the child's name, she thought. The patients were just a set of symptoms to Dr Drake. Not like the charming Dr French …

But for all his charm, Dr French wasn't there when she'd needed him. And Dr Drake was.

‘Oh, yes. Good.' He took off his spectacles again and polished them on the hem of his white coat.

Jess took a deep breath and tried harder. ‘I've never seen a tracheostomy done before,' she said.

‘I've never done one before.'

Her gaze flew up to meet his. ‘You mean, that was your first time?'

The faintest hint of a smile appeared on his lips. ‘Did it show?'

‘Not at all. I would never have guessed.'

‘I wasn't sure if I should tell you.'

‘I'm glad you didn't. I would have been even more nervous.'

‘I think I was nervous enough for both of us!'

His smile widened and Jess suddenly realised that she had got him wrong. What she and all the other nurses had assumed to be arrogance was really just shyness.

From outside the window, far across the hospital grounds, came the sounds of laughter and singing.

‘It sounds as if the party is livening up,' Jess said. ‘And here we are, sitting like a pair of Cinderellas.'

He replaced his spectacles, pushing them higher on his long nose. ‘I don't mind. I'm not really one for parties.'

‘Me neither.'

His brows rose. ‘You surprise me. I thought you and your friends enjoyed a bit of fun? You certainly seem very lively on the ward.'

Jess immediately remembered the incident with the mistletoe. Poor Dr Drake. If he was as shy as she thought, he must have been utterly mortified. No wonder he'd flown off the handle like that, if he'd thought they were making fun of him.

He finished his tea and stood up. ‘Well, I suppose I'd better be going,' he said. ‘Thank you for the tea, Nurse. It was most welcome.'

As he went to leave, Jess happened to glance up at the clock on the wall. ‘It's nearly midnight,' she said.

‘So it is.' He smiled at her again. ‘Happy New Year to you, Nurse.'

Jess smiled back at him. ‘Let's hope so, sir,' she said.

THE FIRST FACE
Millie saw when she stepped on to the ward as a new nurse was Grace Maynard, coming out of the kitchen with a breakfast tray in each hand.

It came as a shock to see her former maid in her VAD's uniform, and Millie could tell from the other girl's expression that the feeling was mutual.

‘Your ladyship! What are you doing here?'

‘The same as you, I should think,' Millie said ruefully.

Grace stared at her uniform. ‘Sister said we were getting a new nurse, but I never imagined—' Her mouth opened and closed again.

Millie read the expression in her hazel eyes. The poor girl looked completely at a loss, obiously wondering how she was going to deal with the situation.

‘I know it might seem strange at first, but we're here to work together,' said Millie. ‘And we can start by you not calling me “your ladyship” any more.'

Grace blushed. ‘What else should I call you?'

‘How about Nurse Rushton, since we're supposed to use last names?'

Grace nodded, but still looked decidedly uncomfortable.

‘Can I help you with these?' Millie went to take one of the trays from her, but Grace held on to it firmly.

‘I can manage, your – Nurse Rushton.' Grace looked flustered. Millie didn't blame her. The poor girl had spent the past ten years running about after the Rettingham family, and now here was Millie helping her.

‘Please, Maynard?' Millie said, taking the tray.

Grace hesitated for a moment, then she nodded and handed it over. ‘It's for bed six,' she said. ‘His arm's damaged so he might need help cutting his food up. But don't fuss over him too much, it puts him in a bad mood.'

Handing out the breakfasts was a good chance for Millie to meet the patients. There were around thirty of them, with a variety of injuries, from dressed wounds on their heads and torsos, to splinted limbs supported by complex frames and pulleys. Many seemed quite well, sitting around the central table to eat their breakfast and chatting amongst themselves.

Grace explained that most of the men had come straight from field units or hospital ships, where they had received the emergency treatment they needed. They were then sent to the Nightingale for post-operative care or convalescence.

‘Most of them have been injured in some way – gunshot or shrapnel wounds, or fractured limbs – but we also have some medical cases,' she said. ‘Sergeant Powell in bed two, for example, was sent home with pneumonia.' She nodded to an older man, who was sitting up in bed quietly doing a newspaper crossword.

‘What about those two?' Millie nodded to a dark-haired boy, who was patiently feeding a pale young man.

‘That's Tommo and Alan. Alan had a terrible head injury, but he's getting better. Physically, at least,' said Grace. ‘The doctors say there's no reason why he shouldn't start doing things for himself, but he seems to have lost the will … Sister has told us to keep an eye on him anyway.'

‘His friend seems to be doing that already?'

‘Tommo's a great help.' Grace smiled. ‘Watch out for him, though, he can be a bit lively. He'll take advantage of you, if he thinks he can get away with it.'

‘I'll remember that.' Millie watched the pair for a moment. Tommo was all solicitous concern, neatly wiping the other boy's chin with the corner of a napkin, then picking up the spoon to feed him again.

‘Tommo's so protective of Alan, he never leaves his side,' Grace said. ‘At least it gives the other men a rest from Tommo pestering them all the time!'

Miss Wallace came on duty as they were clearing away the breakfast dishes.

‘Welcome back, Nurse Rushton.' She beamed at Millie. ‘I see you've got stuck in straight away. That's good. It's just what we like to see, isn't it, Maynard? Someone who isn't afraid of hard work.'

‘Yes, Sister.' Grace sent Millie a sideways look. She was probably thinking of all those times she had fetched and carried for her, Millie thought. She hoped she would be able to prove that she wasn't afraid of hard work, as Miss Wallace had said.

She was determined to do her best and not to make any mistakes. But she had forgotten how much there was to good nursing. Even making a bed seemed beyond her. She could see the look of strained patience on Grace's face as she showed her for the third time how to smooth out the drawsheet so there were no wrinkles.

Desperate to impress, Millie then rushed through the bedpan round in record time, only to realise that she had forgotten to test and measure the patients' urine as Sister had specifically instructed her.

Miss Wallace was very good about it. ‘Don't look so worried, Rushton. I'm sure it will all come back to you,' she reassured her cheerfully. But Millie was certain she must be furious with her.

At her break, she followed Grace down to the dining room. ‘I know we're not supposed to talk to each other because of the silly rules, but can I just sit on your table?' Millie begged. ‘I don't know anyone else and I'm a bit lost.'

‘Of course,' Grace said. But there was something strained in her smile, and once again Millie worried that she'd made her feel uncomfortable.

She realised how little she knew about Grace Maynard. She had only found out recently from looking at the rent books for the estate that both Grace's parents were dead, and that she had been the breadwinner of her family for the past ten years. The poor girl had been through some hard times, but in all those years she had been nothing more than a shadow to Millie, flitting about on the edge of her life, quietly and efficiently serving her. It made her feel rather ashamed.

‘How are you getting on at the Lodge, your lady— Nurse Rushton?' Grace made a faltering attempt to start up a conversation.

‘I like it very much,' Millie replied. ‘It's more practical for the three of us, and so much easier to keep clean.' She stopped, blushing furiously, remembering that it was Grace who had kept Billinghurst Manor clean. Millie had never had to lift a finger.

If Grace noticed, she was too polite to remark on it. ‘And how is Lady Rettingham?' she enquired. ‘And Master Henry?'

‘They're both very well, thank you. Although my grandmother misses you terribly,' Millie added. ‘She was only saying the other day, you're quite the best maid we ever had …'

Grace's smile was strained, and once again Millie had the awful feeling she'd put her foot in it.

‘Um … How is your family?' She desperately tried to change the subject.

‘Very well, thank you. Walter and Ann have both had bad colds, but they're getting better now. And I had a letter from my brother Albie this morning. He seems to be doing well enough in the army, which is a relief.'

Millie pressed her lips together to stop herself from making another idiotic remark. She hadn't even known Grace's brother was old enough to be called up.

‘And then there's my other sister, Daisy. She's over there, look.' Grace nodded over to the far corner of the room. Millie looked over her shoulder at the pert blonde, chatting to a group of other staff nurses. Now Grace pointed it out, Millie could see a faint family resemblance. Although she took more pride in her appearance than Grace.

‘Why don't you go and sit with her?'

Grace shook her head. ‘Daisy says it's not allowed. She's a proper nurse, you see, not like me. Besides, she wouldn't want me hanging around with her friends.'

She said it so matter-of-factly, Millie could only stare at her. Daisy Maynard sounded like an even bigger snob than Millie herself was supposed to be.

After their break, she returned to the ward. Tommo called out to her straight away.

‘Please, Nurse, I need a bottle.'

‘Of course, Mr Thompson. I'll fetch one for you.'

She fetched a bottle from the sluice. As she pulled the screens around his bed, he said, ‘Can you help me, Nurse?'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Can you – you know? Put it in for me? Only I can't manage it by myself.'

Millie looked at his face. His imploring expression would have melted a heart of stone.

‘I thought it was your leg that was injured?'

‘Yes, but my shoulder's playing me up too.' He massaged it, wincing at the pain. ‘It's so stiff, I can hardly move it. Pain shoots right down to my hand, it does. I can't hardly move my fingers.'

‘Hmm.' Millie thought for a moment. ‘Well, if you really need help …'

‘Oh, I do. I do.'

‘Then wait here a minute. I'll just go and wash my hands.'

Millie could hear him chuckling to himself behind the curtains as she walked away. But his laughter stopped when she returned and he saw what she had with her.

‘What – what are those?' he whispered.

‘Rat-toothed forceps.' Millie advanced towards him. ‘Come on, then, let's be having you.'

He shrank back, eyes still fixed on the shining, snapping jaws. ‘It – it's all right, Nurse, I think I can manage by myself.'

Millie feigned a look of innocent concern. ‘Oh, well, if you're sure?'

She was pushing back the screens as Miss Wallace whisked past.

‘Ah, Nurse Rushton.' She looked from the forceps to Millie's expression. ‘Let me guess – Mr Thompson?'

‘Yes, Sister.'

‘I trust you were able to assist him?'

‘As it turned out, he didn't need my help, Sister,' Millie replied, straight-faced.

Miss Wallace smiled. ‘You see, Nurse? I told you it would all come back to you.'

Millie went home at five o'clock, tired but happy. She had made some mistakes on her first day, but not nearly as many as she'd feared, and Miss Wallace had been pleased with her work.

She'd also managed to make a start on winning Grace over. By the end of their shift, they were chatting more like equals than mistress and former servant. Millie was pleased. She liked Grace and hoped they might become friends. Although she couldn't imagine what her grandmother would say about it.

There was a sleek black car parked outside the Lodge on her return. As Millie opened the front door, she could hear shrieks of childish laughter coming from the sitting room.

She put her head around the door. There, to her surprise, she found Lord Edward Teasdale scampering around the floor on all fours, Henry riding on his back. Her son was wielding a wooden sword.

‘Teddy?'

He looked up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘Hello, Millie.'

‘I'm a knight, and he's my trusty steed!' Henry announced, waving his sword at her. ‘And Nanny's a dragon!' he added.

She is indeed, Millie thought. She didn't dare look at Nanny Perks's face in case a prim display of disapproval made her laugh too much.

‘I'm afraid your trusty steed needs to go back to his stable, old man.' Teddy gently disentangled himself from Henry and set him down on the floor. He stood up, brushing down the knees of his suit trousers.

Nanny ushered her charge out of the room, leaving them alone. ‘What are you doing here?' Millie asked, looking up at Teddy.

‘I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop in and say hello. Your grandmother invited me to tea, if you recall?'

Millie smiled. ‘So she did. And why were you in the area? Have we had some Germans parachuting in that you need to question?'

He put his finger to his lips. ‘Shhh! You know what they say … careless talk costs lives. But no, actually it was just a very dull meeting of the top brass. Nothing remotely exciting, I'm afraid. Certainly no Germans marauding about the place.'

‘So we can sleep soundly in our beds tonight?'