The Nightingale Sisters (41 page)

Sister Hyde paused for a moment, then said, ‘I believe she may have hidden the pills in her spectacles case.’

‘But surely no one would know . . .’ Millie caught sight of Sister Hyde’s forbidding expression and stopped speaking. She didn’t ask how Sister knew where Maud had hidden her pills.

‘I believe that’s enough questions, Benedict, don’t you?’ Sister Hyde said. ‘Suffice it to say, Mrs Mortimer is where she wants to be, and that is at peace. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?’

Millie looked into her wise, surprisingly kind eyes, and realised Sister Hyde was right. She still had much to learn.

VIOLET LURKED IN
the shadows by the school gates. Her eyes were fixed on the doors, but still aware of everything around her. Every movement, every passer-by, made her twitch.

She checked her watch again. She hadn’t wanted to send Oliver to school, but Miss Fox had advised her to maintain some semblance of normality, for his sake. At the time it had seemed like a wise decision but now, out in the open, she felt exposed. She couldn’t allow herself to breathe until she saw him safe again.

‘Excuse me?’

At the sound of the man’s voice behind her, Violet’s legs turned to jelly. She felt a hand on her shoulder and let out a scream. Seconds later, Miss Hanley appeared, bearing down on them like one of the Furies, her furled umbrella raised like a weapon.

‘Unhand her at once!’ she boomed.

‘P-Pardon me,’ the man stuttered, stepping away from her. ‘I only wanted to tell you you’d dropped this.’ He held out Violet’s purse to her in a trembling hand.

She took it from him, embarrassed colour flooding her face. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else . . .’ she called after him, but he was already hurrying away, looking nervously back over his shoulder at her.

Miss Hanley lowered her umbrella. ‘I take it that wasn’t him? He didn’t look like a cad.’

‘I feel so foolish.’ Violet bit her lip. ‘It’s quite ridiculous to be jumping at shadows like this.’

‘Anyone would act the same way, in your position.’

‘All the same, it’s not fair to involve everyone here in my situation.’

Matron had been as good as her word, mustering the sisters to come to Violet’s aid. She and Oliver never went anywhere unescorted. When she was working on the wards, the other sisters took it in turns to sleep in her flat and watch over her son.

Violet was touched by the way they had rallied round her. She knew she had done little to earn such generosity, keeping them at arms’ length for so long.

Even Sister Wren had come to her aid. Violet had been angry at first when she’d confessed all about answering the advertisement in the newspaper, but after she had calmed down she realised that this confrontation had been inevitable. If it hadn’t been Sister Wren, then it would have been someone else eventually. And besides, Sister Wren felt so wretchedly guilty about it, Violet couldn’t be angry with her for too long.

‘Nonsense,’ Miss Hanley dismissed her comment. ‘We are like the Three Musketeers. “All for one, and one for all”. And I must say, I am rather looking forward to coming face to face with that ghastly Sherman woman again. I will certainly be giving her what-for, I can tell you!’ She gave her umbrella a firm shake, as if to emphasise her point. ‘Although,’ she continued, ‘it has been three days since she last showed her face. Do you think perhaps she has decided to go home?’

‘Perhaps,’ Violet agreed. ‘But I know she’ll be back. And I daresay she will bring my husband with her next time.’

She shuddered. The thought of coming face to face with Victor again frightened her more than she could ever admit.

The doors opened, and the children began to stream out. Violet gripped the wrought-iron gate, craning her neck to peer at their faces, every muscle in her body tense until Oliver came into view. Then, finally, she could breathe again.

They walked back to the hospital quickly, Miss Hanley’s long manly strides setting the pace. As Violet listened to Oliver’s chatter, she was aware that the older woman was deep in thought.

As they approached the hospital gates, she finally spoke.

‘I wonder, Miss Tanner, are you familiar with the Battle of Narva?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The Battle of Narva. Swedes against the Russians? In the year seventeen hundred?’ Miss Hanley shook her head. ‘There’s no reason why you should have heard of it, I suppose. It is a rather obscure battle in the Great Northern War, not something you’d necessarily find in our history books.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘You must forgive me, I’m rather a military history buff. It’s what comes of following one’s father’s regiment halfway round the world, I suppose.’ She caught Violet’s blank look and continued, ‘The Battle of Narva was significant to military historians because it was such an outstanding example of how surprise and initiative can turn the tables and overwhelm far superior numbers. Let me explain . . .’

Violet listened, still bewildered, as Miss Hanley went into great detail about how the Russians had outnumbered the Swedish troops, but how, by using the element of surprise and with the weather on their side, the Swedish army somehow managed to outwit an enemy five times their own size.

‘And all in under two hours, can you imagine that?’ Miss Hanley said, her square, plain face flushed with rare excitement.

‘It sounds very impressive,’ Violet agreed. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t really understand what it has to do with me?’

‘Don’t you see? It’s a question of strategy. The Russians hugely outnumbered the Swedish army. They were far more powerful. The last thing they expected was for the Swedes to bring the fight to them. Which is why they were so hopelessly routed.’

Slowly, her meaning began to dawn on Violet. ‘So what you’re saying is, you think I should take the battle to Victor? That I should go and see him, rather than wait for him to find me?’

‘Exactly. That way you will have the element of surprise.’

‘It would take more than surprise for me to get the better of my husband.’ Violet was frightened enough at the thought of seeing him again. The idea of getting on a train and going back to Bristol, of actually walking up to his front door, made her feel physically sick.

She was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to do it. And if she did, she was just as certain she wouldn’t live to tell the tale.

‘It’s either that, or run away from your enemy,’ Miss Hanley pointed out. ‘But then it’s no longer a battle, is it? And it’s certainly not one you can ever win.’

They passed through the courtyard and the sisters’ block came into view. At last Violet felt her tense muscles begin to relax. She was safe here. Like a rabbit scurrying back into its hole.

She looked at Miss Hanley. For all her baffling talk of military strategy, she had a point. It wasn’t a battle between Violet and Victor. It was a hunt. And she was the one being hunted.

Miss Hanley seemed to guess the thoughts racing through her mind. ‘I can’t tell you what to do,’ she said. ‘But I certainly know what
I
would do.’ She regarded Violet steadily. ‘It’s up to you. Do you want to meet your opponent face to face, as equals on the battlefield, or do you want to spend the rest of your life as someone’s helpless prey?’

‘We’ll miss half the feature if we don’t hurry up!’

Ruby caught Nick’s impatient look in the reflection of her powder compact. He was restless, but she refused to be hurried. It was good to keep a man waiting.

‘One more minute.’ She unscrewed her lipstick and started to apply it.

‘I’ve never known anyone take as long to get ready as you,’ he grumbled.

‘I’ve got to look my best, ain’t I?’

‘You’re going to be sitting in the dark!’

‘Don’t you want everyone to think you’re stepping out with the best-looking girl in Bethnal Green?’

‘I’d rather see the start of this film!’

‘Keep your hair on.’ She pressed her lips together, then snapped her compact shut. ‘All done. See? Wasn’t I worth waiting for?’ She blew him a scarlet-painted kiss. Nick shook his head, his smile reluctant. No matter what mood he was in, she knew he couldn’t resist her flirting for long.

Dora was in next door’s backyard when they left the house. And she wasn’t alone.

‘Look,’ Ruby whispered. ‘That’s the bloke who’s courting Dora. Let’s go and say hello—’

She started towards them, but Nick held her back. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Leave them be.’

‘But we’ve got to be polite.’

‘We’re late enough as it is.’ He took her arm and steered her firmly past them, so she could only give her friend a little wave and a smile as they hurried out of the back gate.

Once out in the street, he lengthened his stride until Ruby had to trot to keep up with him.

‘Not so fast, I can’t keep up with you in these shoes,’ she complained. He slowed down a fraction, long enough for her to fasten herself to his arm. ‘What’s up with you?’ she said.

‘I told you, I don’t want to miss the film,’ he muttered back.

‘We never watch it anyway.’ Most of the time neither of them cared what was happening on the screen, it was just an excuse to be alone together in the dark on the back row.

But tonight Nick kept his eyes fixed on
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
. It was a gruesome film, and Ruby used every excuse it gave her to cuddle up to Nick and bury her face in his shoulder. But even though he put his arm around her, he never turned his head to kiss her. From the blank look on his face as he stared at the screen, Ruby wondered if he was even watching it himself.

Later, they walked home through the darkened streets, Ruby clinging to him.

‘I’m never watching another horror film again as long as I live,’ she declared, tightening her hold. ‘I doubt if I’ll sleep soundly in my bed again.’

She tried to keep up a conversation as they walked home, chattering on about this and that. But when he didn’t answer one of her questions for the umpteenth time, frustration overcame her.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ she demanded, pulling away from him.

Nick stared at her blankly. ‘Sorry?’

‘I knew it! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you? I may as well be talking to a flaming brick wall for all the notice you’re taking!’

‘I’ve got a lot on my mind,’ he said.

She gazed at his profile in the darkness. ‘Like what?’ He was silent. ‘Go on, you can tell me.’

He turned his head slowly to look at her. His face was expressionless. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said.

He put his arm around her, but for once the steel of his muscles failed to reassure her.

She had seen the look in his eyes, and she knew that whoever he was thinking about, it certainly wasn’t her.

They got back to Griffin Street and Nick went to lift the latch on the back gate, but Ruby stopped him.

‘Not yet,’ she murmured, winding her arms around his neck and moving in for a kiss.

She might not have been much good at anything else, but Ruby Pike was a good kisser. All the boys she’d ever allowed that far had said so. She knew just what to do, how to start softly, then gradually get hungrier, more urgent, letting her tongue flicker into their mouths just enough to get them going, to make them want her.

Not that she needed to use any expertise with Nick. Just being with him aroused her so much she could barely contain her own desperate need. And he always responded to her. No matter what mood he was in, she could coax and tempt him with her hands and lips and tongue, until he was just as desperate for release as she was.

But not tonight. He barely kissed her in return, his body as rigid as a wall of granite. Finally he caught her wrists and eased her gently away from him. ‘No,’ he said.

She looked up at him, hurt. ‘Why not?’

‘I’ve got an early start in the morning. And Mum’s probably gone out. I don’t want to leave Danny on his own too long . . .’

He bent forward and kissed her again, but there was no passion in it. It was as if he was just going through the motions, his mind elsewhere.

Ruby could hardly look at him as he let them in through the back door and she watched him climb the stairs. His broad shoulders looked as if they had the weight of the world on them.

Fear began to uncurl in her stomach as it dawned on her that this time she might really be losing him. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

CURLEW HOUSE WAS
just as Violet remembered it. It stood alone amid the Mendip Hills, a gaunt Gothic building, proud, isolated and forbidding.

She held her breath as the taxi rounded the bend and she saw the dark, jagged silhouette on the skyline.

‘Drop me off here,’ she told the taxi driver. ‘I will walk the rest of the way.’

‘Are you sure, Miss? The weather’s taking a nasty turn.’

He was right. The sky had turned the colour of pewter, and a tearing wind drove sheets of rain across the moor. Appropriate weather, Violet thought. There must have been fine days when she lived here, but looking back on it, she couldn’t remember a single day when the sun had shone on Curlew House.

Birds wheeled screaming overhead as she made her way through the wrought-iron gates and up the winding drive. She kept her head down, her face averted from the tall, narrow windows, afraid that if she looked up she might see eyes watching her.

Her nerve almost failed her as she forced herself up the wide stone steps to the front door. She hesitated, her hand on the bell pull. This was it, she realised. Once she rang that bell, there was no going back.

She took a deep breath, and pulled on the chain. The dull sonorous clang that echoed within the house sounded like a death knell.

It was some moments before she heard the slow, stately tread in the hall. Then Mrs Sherman opened the door.

Violet saw the look of shock on her face, and instantly knew Miss Hanley was right. She certainly had caught her off guard.

The housekeeper stared at her speechless for a moment. ‘You!’

‘Hello, Mrs Sherman.’ Violet forced herself to stay calm, just as she’d practised. ‘May I come in?’

Nothing had changed. The house seemed to close in on her, with its oppressive dark walls and heavy aged furniture. She found herself tiptoeing across the black-and-white-tiled floor out of habit, her whole body tense lest she accidentally say or do something to incur Victor’s wrath.