The Nightingale Girls (40 page)

‘Finding something for you to wear.’ Millie rifled through the rail, pulling out and rejecting garments. ‘My grandmother ordered me far too many clothes when I did the Season, and insisted I brought them all with me when I came here. I knew they’d come in useful one day . . . ah, what about this one?’

She pulled out a dress in a deep burnt orange colour. ‘I could never wear it because the colour was far too strong for me. But you could carry it off beautifully with your dark colouring. Here, try it on.’

Helen wanted to argue, but she had no time to demur.
And besides, she had never seen such a beautiful dress, let alone worn one.

It was even more beautiful when she’d slipped it on. Millie was right, the colour suited her perfectly. It was made from a soft, fluid fabric that flowed sensuously over her slim body in a way she had never thought possible in the stiff cottons and sensible wools her mother always made her wear.

‘Are you sure it’s quite decent?’ she whispered, unable to take her eyes off her reflection.

‘Of course it is. My grandmother would never let me wear anything that wasn’t the height of modesty,’ Millie said primly. ‘Now take it off again and go and wash your face. Then I’ll put some lipstick and powder on for you– don’t worry, I won’t make you look like a tart!’ She laughed at Helen’s fearful expression, and clapped her hands in joy. ‘Oh, this is so exciting, isn’t it? Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!’

WHEN HELEN HURRIED
outside ten minutes later, William and Charlie were leaning against the car, chatting like old friends.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ She rushed up to them, still smoothing down her dress. They both turned to look at her.

‘Oh, my.’ Her brother let out a long whistle. ‘I didn’t recognise you, Hels. My sister scrubs up rather well, wouldn’t you say, Charlie?’

Helen watched Charlie’s face anxiously. She was still worried that she was overdressed, but the admiring look in his eyes told her she’d got it just right.

‘I’ll say,’ he said. He smiled at her. He looked very attractive himself in a suit and tie, his sandy hair neatly brushed back from his broad, handsome face. Helen felt a tingle of anticipation. This was really happening. She was actually going on a proper date with Charlie Denton!

‘Right, well, I’ll leave you to it.’ They both tore their eyes away from each other to look momentarily at William. ‘Have a pleasant evening. And see you look after her, Denton, or you’ll have me to answer to.’

‘I will,’ Charlie promised.

‘And you,’ William whispered to Helen as he got into his car. ‘You see you look after him, too. You’ve got a good one there, Hels. And there aren’t too many of them around.’

He drove off, leaving them alone. Suddenly Helen felt rather awkward and self-conscious, standing there in her borrowed dress, all done up with lipstick and powder.
Especially as Charlie didn’t seem able to take his eyes off her. She touched her nose, wondering if she still had a smudge of oil there.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said softly.

‘Thank you.’

‘I wasn’t sure if you were going to come. When you were late I thought you might have changed your mind.’

‘I thought you’d change your mind and decide not to wait for me,’ Helen confessed.

Charlie grinned. ‘Never! I’ve waited three months for this. So where do you want to go?’

‘Wherever you like.’ Helen shrugged happily.

‘Well, I’m not much for dancing at the moment, but we could go to the pictures, or I could treat you to tea?’ His blue eyes searched hers anxiously. For the first time it struck Helen that he was as nervous as she was.

‘It’s a lovely evening. Why don’t we just go for a walk in the park?’ she suggested. ‘If you’re up to walking, that is?’

‘I reckon the exercise would do me good. But are you sure? I know most girls would expect a fellow to spend a bit of cash on them, show them a good time. I know my Sally . . .’ He stopped. ‘Anyway, I don’t want you going back to that nurses’ home and telling them all I don’t know how to treat a girl properly,’ he mumbled, blushing.

‘I promise I won’t,’ Helen reassured him. ‘It’s far too nice to sit in a stuffy old cinema.’

He grinned. ‘The park it is, then.’ He crooked his arm. ‘You’ll have to walk this side of me, I’m afraid. I know a gentleman should walk next to the road, but I need that hand for my stick. If you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Helen put her hand under his arm and they walked slowly along the street together. He
seemed to be managing very well, walking with only a slight limp.

‘How are you coping with the prosthetic?’ she asked. ‘You’re not in any pain or anything?’

He sent her a wry sideways look. ‘We’re not in hospital now, remember, Nurse Tremayne?’

‘Sorry.’ Helen smiled apologetically. ‘Old habits die hard, I suppose.’

‘Yes, well, you’re my girl now, not my nurse.’

My girl. Helen savoured the words as they crossed the road and strolled through the ornate wrought-iron park gates. It was a fine early summer’s evening, and Victoria Park was still full of families enjoying the fresh air. They stopped for a moment to watch the boats on the lake.

‘Do you row?’ Helen asked.

‘I haven’t for a long time. When we were first courting, me and Sal—’ He stopped himself short. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his face colouring.

‘You can talk about her, you know.’ Helen squeezed his arm. ‘You were engaged to be married. You’re bound to mention her name sometimes.’ She looked across the water, sparkling in the low evening sunlight. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in a rowing boat before,’ she mused.

‘What, never?’ Charlie stared at her. Helen shook her head.

‘My mother always said it was too dangerous.’

‘Not if you do it properly. I’ll take you one day. You’ll be safe with me.’

Helen smiled at him. I know I will, she thought. She gazed at his profile as he looked across the water. She hoped he wasn’t thinking about Sally.

‘In fact,’ Charlie said, ‘why don’t we do it now?’

‘What?’ Helen said, half laughing. ‘Are you serious? The park will be closing soon.’

‘Not for another half an hour or so. We’ve got plenty of time for a quick spin around the lake. What do you say?’

Helen looked down at her dress. ‘I’m not really dressed for rowing!’

‘Then you can just sit there and look beautiful while I do all the hard work. Unless you really don’t care to?’ He frowned, suddenly anxious. ‘I want you to enjoy tonight. And if you’d rather do something else . . .’

Helen looked from him to the boats and back again. Tonight was a time for new experiences, she decided. ‘Why not?’

‘That’s my girl!’ Charlie grinned.

Helen almost changed her mind once he’d purchased two tickets from the small booth and she was stepping into the rickety little boat. It swayed and rocked under her feet, nearly knocking her off balance.

‘Why won’t it keep still?’ she laughed.

‘Wouldn’t be much fun if it did!’ Charlie put out his hand to steady her. ‘Come on, if I can do it with one leg, you can do it with two!’

They were finally seated and set off, Charlie pulling strongly on the oars until they were gliding over the water. Fine golden hairs glistened on his strong forearms as they pulled the oars back and forth.

Helen took off her glove and let her fingers trail in the water, watching the dark shapes of the fish darting about beneath them. A few curious ducks paddled by to watch them, then swam off again.

‘Well? What do you think?’ Charlie asked her.

‘It’s lovely.’ Helen lifted her face to the low evening sun, dappling through the trees. ‘It’s all really lovely.’

She hadn’t known what to expect from her date, but this was far better than anything she could have imagined.

‘I don’t mind being on the water myself,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t feel as awkward as I do when I’m walking around. No one’s looking at me out here.’

Helen regarded him sympathetically. ‘Are you still finding it hard to get used to?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it, to be honest. I have good days and bad days, like you do with anything else. It’s helped a lot, my uncle giving me a job at his joinery firm. I’ve always been good with my hands, and this is my chance to learn a proper skill. Makes me feel a bit less useless when I’m not earning my own living.’ He smiled at her. ‘Hark at me, going on!’

‘I like listening to you.’

He shook his head. ‘But you don’t want to hear me moaning. I’m trying to impress you, remember?’

‘It would impress me more if we didn’t keep going round in circles,’ Helen teased.

‘Oh, really?’ Charlie’s brows rose questioningly. ‘If Madam is not happy with the service, perhaps she’d like to have a go herself?’

Helen saw the glint of challenge in his eyes. ‘Perhaps she would,’ she said, reaching for the oars.

It took a bit of practice, much laughter and rocking of the boat before she got the hang of it. Charlie’s hands covered hers as he showed her how to pull back and forth with the oars.

‘It’s hard work on the arms,’ he warned her.

‘Not when you’re used to hauling people in and out of baths!’ Helen replied.

She would have liked to stay in the boat forever, with Charlie, the world drifting past, feeling the sun on her face and hearing the pleasant sound of laughter and birdsong. But all too soon the boat keeper was calling them in, telling them the park was going to be closing in ten minutes.

Helen was worried their date was going to end, too, but then Charlie shyly asked if she would like to have something to eat.

‘I know a little cafe near here that’s open till nine,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing fancy, but the food’s nice.’

‘It sounds perfect,’ Helen said, taking his arm.

And it was. Charlie was right, the cafe was nothing fancy, with its scrubbed tables and tiled floor. But it was quiet, and the egg and chips were delicious, and even if they’d tasted like sawdust it wouldn’t have mattered because she was with Charlie.

They talked endlessly. Helen couldn’t believe she’d ever worried that they might sit in awkward silence with nothing to say to each other. They talked and talked, and laughed until their sides ached over the silliest of things. They were still talking and laughing when the proprietor of the cafe, a large Italian man called Antonio with the broadest cockney accent Helen had ever heard, very politely informed them that he wanted to close up and go home.

Charlie walked Helen back to the hospital through the darkened streets of Bethnal Green. ‘I’m sorry it wasn’t a posh night out,’ he said.

‘I didn’t mind. I enjoyed it.’

‘I mind. You’re a proper lady, and you deserve the best.’ He paused for a moment. ‘The truth is, I’ve been a bit skint since I lost my job. I’m doing better now I’m working again, but I’m not exactly flush just yet.’ He turned to look at her, his face shadowed in the silvery lamplight. ‘But I will do better next time, if you give me another chance? I might not be able to treat you to tea at The Ritz just yet, but I reckon I’ll be able to stretch to a couple of tickets for the pictures?’ He looked anxious. ‘What do you say? Will you go out with me again?’

She hadn’t meant to say yes. This was meant to be their
one and only date. But somehow she found herself nodding eagerly. ‘Yes, please,’ she said.

Helen walked away from him, through the hospital gates and up the broad sweep of driveway that led to the main hospital building. Shaded lights glowed in the ward windows above her. Happiness rose inside her like a bubble in her chest, until she wanted to laugh out loud, just to let it out.

Before she went through the archway in the main building that led into the courtyard beyond, she remembered what William had said. Steeling herself for disappointment, she cautiously looked back over her shoulder.

Charlie was standing at the gates, outlined by the glow of the lamplight, leaning heavily on his stick, watching her.

‘
GUESS WHAT? I’M
getting an award!’

Lucy Lane made the announcement from her usual position at the head of the table in the dining room, her voice rising imperiously over the clatter of knives and forks. No one responded. They were all too used to Lucy’s bragging to bother being impressed any more.

‘The Board of Trustees is awarding prizes to the top student from each year on Founder’s Day,’ Lucy went on, oblivious to their lack of interest. ‘They’re giving it to Patterson in the third year, Tremayne in second year, and me.’ She beamed around at them all. A couple of the students nodded politely, the others just went on eating. ‘They’re giving out the prizes at the Founder’s Day party. Our parents are being invited to watch us. I expect my mother will absolutely insist I have a new dress!’ She sighed, as if the whole business was simply too exhausting.

‘Listen to her, she’s off again.’ Katie rolled her eyes at Dora. ‘I really wish someone would take her down a peg or two.’

Dora didn’t reply. For once, Lucy’s bragging washed over her. She had far more important things on her mind.

Today her mum and the kids were due home from their holiday in Loughton, and Dora was anxious to visit and find out how Josie was getting on.

She hoped her mum had let her stay on with Auntie Brenda a bit longer. Anything to keep her out of Alf’s clutches.

She was certain in her own mind that he had turned his attentions to her sister. She tried not to think about what poor little Josie had gone through. But over the past three weeks her nightmares had started again. Only this time it was her sister’s haunted face that woke her up screaming.

Bea was playing out with some other children from their street when Dora arrived in Griffin Street. She heard her little sister’s voice before she’d even turned the corner, bossing everyone about. They were taking turns to bowl a hoop made from the metal rim of an old bicycle wheel. But as soon as she saw Dora, Bea abandoned the game and ran up the street to greet her.

‘We’ve got a hoop, look! Although it’s mine really,’ she added with a warning glare at the children who hovered nearby. ‘I found it.’

But Dora wasn’t listening. Her attention was fixed on the skinny, dark-haired girl sitting on the kerb, shoulders hunched, her knees drawn up under her chin.