The Nightingale Girls (48 page)

‘Sinister.’

The whisper was so faint, Millie wasn’t sure she’d heard it at first.

She looked up in disbelief. ‘Daddy?’

She saw his dry lips move slightly. No words this time, but it was enough. His eyelids fluttered for a second, then closed again.

‘Nurse!’ Millie screamed. She ran for the door and crashed into the nurse who was hurrying in.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’

‘He’s woken up!’ It was all Millie could do not to hug her. ‘He spoke to me.’

Everything happened very fast after that. The nurse called for Mr Cossard, who finally appeared after what seemed like hours, examined his patient and declared that, yes indeed, there did seem to be signs of life.

‘But we must be cautious until we know the extent of any possible damage,’ he cautioned.

‘He can’t be too damaged if he can still do
The Times
crossword, can he?’ Millie was too delighted to listen to the warnings. ‘I must tell Seb.’ She looked out of the window. There was no sign of him in the grounds, but she knew he would be there.

She found him straight away. He was sitting on the bank by the stream, smoking and staring out into the water.

‘Seb!’ He shot to his feet and tossed his cigarette into the stream when he saw her running towards him, calling his name. Millie saw the flicker of concern on his face as he wondered what news she was bringing.

She launched herself into his arms, overcome by joy and relief. ‘He’s awake, Seb,’ she whispered. ‘Daddy’s going to be all right.’

‘Thank God.’ She felt him relax, and his arms went around her, holding her tight. For a moment neither of them moved. Then they slowly pulled apart. Millie looked up into his eyes, finding them dark with desire, and felt herself weaken.

‘Millie?’ His voice was hoarse, uncertain.

For an answer, she put her hands up to his face and kissed him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the
world. Seb’s kiss was shy and tentative at first and she could sense him holding back, as if he almost didn’t dare believe it was really happening. Then a moment later the floodgates opened and he was kissing her with a ferocity and passion she could hardly have imagined in him.

She went on kissing him for a long time, not wanting to let him go, afraid to break the spell. But finally it was broken and they pulled apart.

‘We’d better go back inside.’ Millie’s gaze slid away from his, unable to meet his eyes.

‘Shall I telephone your grandmother and let her know? Or would you prefer me to drive back and fetch her?’ Seb asked, as they walked back to the hospital building.

‘It might be best if you telephone her. She may need some time to compose herself. Granny hates being caught unawares.’

They were talking like strangers, Millie thought, not like two people who had just shared a moment of intense passion. She began to wonder if she’d imagined it.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETHEART.’

Helen stared in joyful surprise at the parcel Charlie placed into her hands. It was carefully wrapped and tied with pink ribbon.

‘You didn’t have to get me anything. I really didn’t expect it.’

‘What kind of a bloke doesn’t buy his girl a present on her birthday?’ He nodded towards it. ‘Go on, then. Open it. I want to see if you like it.’

Helen’s fingers trembled as she untied the silky bow. It wasn’t even her birthday until the following day, but it was already the best she had ever had. Charlie had arranged for her to have tea with his family, and his mum had prepared a wonderful spread for her, including a big birthday cake she had iced herself. Everyone had joined in a heartfelt but tuneless chorus of ‘Happy Birthday To You’, then Charlie’s younger brothers and sister had crowded round to help her blow out the candles. This was followed by a mad rush as everyone dived in to get the biggest slice.

‘Hold it, you lot, there’s plenty for everyone!’ Mrs Denton laughed, brandishing the cake slice to keep them at bay. ‘Anyway, our Helen gets the first piece, as she’s the birthday girl.’

Helen beamed. Our Helen. It was the first time anyone had ever called her that.

‘I s’pose you’ll be having a big party with your family, too?’ Mrs Denton had said. Helen had smiled, and made
some neutral reply. But she had never had a birthday party in her life. Her mother disapproved of rowdy celebrations. She didn’t approve of birthdays in general, feeling it was wrong for anyone to be singled out for special attention. Of course Helen had cards and presents, but Constance always managed to take the edge off her joy by making her give up a favourite toy to the local children’s home.

‘You must remember those less fortunate than yourself,’ she always said. Although Helen hadn’t been able to think of anyone less fortunate than her as she’d tearfully parted company with her favourite teddy or most cherished book.

After the tea party, Charlie had taken her aside into the hall to give her his present. ‘I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone else in case you didn’t like it,’ he confessed shyly.

Now Helen carefully unfastened the bow and peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a beautiful jewellery box in polished golden wood. Inside it was lined with red velvet, with small compartments for all her trinkets.

‘I made it myself at my uncle’s works,’ Charlie said proudly. ‘I know it’s not much, but I thought you might like it?’

‘Oh, Charlie, it’s the nicest present I’ve ever had!’ It didn’t even matter that she had no jewellery to put in it. Just the thought that he’d taken the time and the trouble to make something especially for her was enough. Helen threw her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, Charlie, I love it. And I love you, too.’

He put his hands up to grasp her wrists, pulling away from her. His blue eyes searched hers. ‘Do you mean it?’

‘Yes, it’s perfect.’

‘Not the box. Did you mean what you just said – about loving me?’

She hadn’t realised the words had escaped her. She’d
been too shy to say them out loud before, even though they sang in her heart constantly.

She nodded. ‘Say it again,’ Charlie said.

Helen felt a warm blush rising in her face. ‘I can’t.’

‘Go on, say it. Please.’

She raised her eyes to meet his. ‘I love you, Charlie Denton,’ she whispered.

He walked her back to the hospital, right up to the gates. He would have walked her to the door of the nurses’ home if she hadn’t stopped him. ‘I’m not sure I want to let you go,’ he said, his arm tightening around her waist. ‘I’m frightened I’ll never see you again.’

‘Don’t be silly! We’re going to the pictures next Friday, remember?’

‘But that’s a whole week away! How am I going to manage until then?’

‘You’ll manage,’ she laughed. ‘Now go. I’ve got to get changed and be back on duty by five.’

‘On one condition.’

‘What’s that?’

‘That you say you love me again.’

‘I can’t!’ Helen looked around, embarrassed. ‘Not here.’

‘Say it again, or I’ll stand right here until you do.’

He looked so obstinate, standing there leaning on his stick, that Helen laughed. ‘All right, then.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I love you, Charlie Denton. Is that enough for you?’

He thought about it for a moment. ‘I would have preferred you to shout it from the rooftops, but that will do for now, I s’pose.’ He bent forward, and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘I’ll see you next Friday.’

He walked away, limping on his stick. Helen went in through the hospital gates and was crossing the courtyard when she heard his voice, loud and clear as a bell, ringing out over the hospital wall.

‘I love you, Nurse Helen Tremayne!’

It seemed to ring out for ever like an echo around the tranquil courtyard. All around her people looked up to see where the sound was coming from. Helen stood rooted to the spot, her whole body flaming with heat, certain everyone must be looking at her. But embarrassed as she felt, she also couldn’t stop smiling.

And then she turned around and saw her mother waiting for her outside the black front door of the nurses’ home and the smile froze on her face.

A wave of fear crashed over Helen, making her gulp for air. She wanted to run, but her feet were already moving, dragging her towards her mother as if pulled by an invisible thread.

Constance Tremayne stood on the steps, as still as a statue, both hands clutching the strap of her sensible handbag.

‘Go inside,’ she ordered through tight, unmoving lips.

The nurses’ home was closed to families or friends, but as usual the rules did not apply to Constance Tremayne as she led the way into the empty sitting room. The July sun shone through the bay window, throwing a broad patch of light on to the worn, sagging settees. A solitary teacup from the previous night sat in a sticky ring on the table.

Constance stood at the window, back turned to her daughter, staring out across the courtyard. Helen had got used to reading her mother’s moods. From the set of her stiff spine to her tightly clenched hands, it was obvious she was furious.

Helen fixed her gaze on the teacup, braced herself, and waited.

‘Who is he?’ Constance asked finally.

‘His name is Charlie.’ Her voice came out as a whisper.

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Nearly three months.’

Her mother turned around to face her. ‘You have been lying to me for that long? I had no idea you could be so deceitful.’

‘I haven’t lied to you, I just . . .’

‘Be quiet, Helen.’

‘But Mother . . .’

‘I will tell you when you can speak.’ Constance gazed out of the window again. ‘I suppose he is the reason you were caught coming back late?’

Helen’s heart sank. It was too much to hope that her mother would not have found out about that. She knew everything.

‘Well? What have you to say for yourself?’

She stared down at the box in her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Mother.’

Helen felt the chill of her mother’s wintry gaze on her. ‘I’m afraid sorry is not enough, Helen. I wonder if you realise how deeply disappointed I am in you?’ She came to stand before her. ‘You have let yourself and your family down. I brought you up to be a decent girl, to have high moral standards. I did not bring you up to stay out all hours and behave like a common tart!’

‘I’m not a tart!’ Helen protested. ‘I just have a boyfriend, that’s all. Lots of girls have boyfriends.’

‘Not you! You’re better than that. I will not have your name tainted with scandal, do you hear me? I will not have people whispering about you behind your back, saying you’re no better than you ought to be. I don’t think you quite understand, Helen, I have an excellent name in this hospital. I won’t have you tainting it with your sordid little liaisons!’

‘It’s not a sordid liaison,’ she protested. ‘Charlie’s a nice boy. I’ve even met his family. I’m sure if you got to know him . . .’

‘I have no intention of getting to know him, because you won’t be seeing him again,’ Constance declared flatly.

‘But Mother—’

She held up a hand for silence. ‘That’s enough, Helen. I don’t wish to talk about it any more. I’ve made my decision and that’s the end of it.’

Helen stared at her, shocked. Constance was already gathering up her handbag, as if the matter were settled.

‘Y-you can’t say that,’ she stammered. ‘I love Charlie.’

‘Love! For heaven’s sake, Helen, do you know how utterly ridiculous you sound? Why, you’re like one of those simpering fools in
Peg’s Paper
!’ Her mother gave her a pitying look. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re far too young and naive, you don’t know the first thing about it.’

Helen watched her adjust her gloves, fastening the buttons at her wrists, fastidious as ever.

‘So I’m never going to be allowed to have a boyfriend, is that it?’ she asked quietly.

‘Of course you can have a boyfriend, Helen. Don’t be so melodramatic.’ Constance paused to consider the matter. ‘When you’re older, and you’ve finished your training, then I’m sure a suitable young man will come along.’

‘And I suppose you’ll tell me where and when to find him?’ The words were out before she could stop herself.

Her mother stared at her. ‘Don’t be impertinent, Helen.’

‘I’m not being impertinent. I just don’t understand why I can’t have a boyfriend. William has lots of girlfriends, and you don’t say anything to him.’

She saw her mother’s expression soften. ‘William is
different. He is a young man, and he doesn’t need my guidance so much.’

Really? Helen thought. For a moment she was tempted to tell her mother the real reason for Peggy Gibson’s breakdown. But she couldn’t betray William and she didn’t think her mother would believe her anyway. Constance Tremayne doted on her son.

‘You are a young, impressionable girl and you must be protected for your own good,’ she went on briskly. ‘Which is why I have decided to remove you from this hospital.’

‘What?’ Helen stared at her in dismay. ‘But why?’

‘Because I am no longer satisfied that it is a suitable place for you to continue your training.’ Constance absently ran one gloved finger along the window ledge and inspected it for dust.

‘But I don’t want to go. I like it here. I’ve made friends.’

‘And I’m sure you’ll make friends elsewhere.’ She snapped her handbag shut. ‘Now, I must be going. I shall expect you for tea tomorrow, since it is your birthday.’

‘You can’t do this.’

Her mother was almost at the door before Helen managed to get the words out. Constance stopped and stared at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Helen couldn’t look at her. She fixed her eyes on the jewellery box in her hands instead. It made her think of Charlie, which gave her courage she’d never had before. ‘You can’t run my life for me like this. You’ve always decided everything for me, but not any more. You can’t take me away from here, and you can’t tell me who I can and can’t fall in love with.’

‘Of course I can, Helen. I am your mother. I have your best interests at heart.’

‘No, you don’t. All you’ve ever wanted to do is turn me into a copy of yourself. But I’m not you, and I’m sick
of doing everything you say. I want to be allowed to think for myself—’