Nightingales on Call (31 page)

Effie ignored her. She knew Frances was just jealous because Effie was courting Hugo Morgan. She claimed to be happy with her new boyfriend Andrew, but Effie had caught the longing looks Frances cast Hugo’s way when she didn’t think anyone was watching.

They remade the bed quickly, not speaking. ‘There,’ Effie said, when they’d finished. ‘That should be more comfortable for you.’

‘Ta, Nurse.’ The boy gave her a smile, but Effie couldn’t smile back. There was something about him that unsettled her, though she didn’t know why.

‘Don’t you think there’s something strange about him?’ she asked Frances as they gathered up the dirty bedlinen.

‘The fractured femur?’ Frances shrugged carelessly. ‘Not that I’d noticed.’

‘He seems rather sly to me.’ Effie glanced back at the boy. He was watching her. When he caught her eye he gave her an insolent grin. ‘I feel like I know him from somewhere, but I can’t think where.’

‘You wouldn’t forget a face like that, would you? Not with that whopping great birthmark on his cheek.’

‘I suppose not.’

As they loaded the linen into the basket ready for collection, Frances said, ‘So . . . has Hugo asked you to go to the ball with him yet?’

Effie sighed. She had been wondering when Frances might ask that. Not a day went by without her mentioning it. ‘Not yet.’

‘Really? He’s taking his time, don’t you think?’ Frances smirked.

‘I daresay he’ll get round to it,’ Effie shrugged, but deep down she was troubled. The Founder’s Day Ball was only a couple of weeks away, and most of the girls in her set had already found themselves partners. Effie had thought she might be among the first to be asked, but despite her hints Hugo didn’t seem inclined to suggest it.

If she wasn’t careful, she would be joining the lonely ranks of the wallflowers, and wouldn’t Frances Bates love that?

‘Here he is now,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should ask
him
instead?’

Effie looked up. Hugo was approaching them, looking every inch the doctor in his smart white coat, bearing a sheaf of notes for Sister Parry. He barely had time to give Effie a smile and a wink before the ward sister intercepted him.

‘Can I help you, Mr Morgan?’ she asked, shooting Effie a warning look over her shoulder.

‘Perhaps he’s asking Sister to the ball instead?’ Frances suggested unkindly.

After they’d served lunch to the children, Effie was given the task of putting away the clean linen delivery.

‘I want everything counted and put away in the linen room before the consultant does his round,’ Sister Parry warned her. ‘Don’t be too long about it, but don’t be slapdash either. If there is so much as a pillowcase out of place, I will know about it.’

Effie was relieved to escape to the safety of the linen room. It was little more than a cupboard lined with shelves, but to her it was a warm, starch-scented haven out of reach of Sister Parry.

Effie closed the door and set about taking the linen out of the hamper the porter had brought up to the ward, smoothing out the sheets, pillowcases, towels and nappies, and setting them all on the correct shelves. She carefully counted each pile, then counted them again, and made a note on the laundry sheet that came with the linen.

When she was satisfied it was all done correctly, she signed her initials at the bottom of the sheet and then went to take it to Sister Parry.

That was when she found the door was locked.

She turned the brass knob again, but it was stuck fast. Her heart racing, Effie leaned her shoulder against it and gave it a shove. Still it didn’t budge.

She stood for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. Calm down, she told herself. It’s just jammed, that’s all. It can’t be locked. Who would lock the door, knowing she was inside counting the linen?

She tried once more, heaving her weight against the door again and again until her shoulder was numb and her arm ached. On the other side of it she could hear the nurses moving around, preparing for the consultant’s visit. She knocked on it and called out, but no one heard her.

Effie sat down on the edge of the wicker basket to get her breath back. Outside, the ward had gone silent. She looked at her watch. Five minutes until the consultant’s ward round was due to start. She was supposed to be making his cup of tea for when he arrived. Sister Parry would be furious if the kettle wasn’t boiling and ready for him.

She stood up and threw herself at the door one final time. It burst open, and Effie flew out into the middle of the ward and fell at the feet of the consultant, Mr Hobbs.

Her fearful gaze travelled up from his highly polished shoes and pinstripe trousers to his bearded face. He was surrounded by a ring of white-coated medical students, the other nurses – and Sister Parry.

‘What are you doing, Nurse?’ she hissed. ‘Get up immediately!’

As Effie struggled to her feet she caught sight of Hugo, standing at the end of the line. He had his head down, and she could see he was struggling to keep a smile off his face.

The consultant gave her a withering look and moved on without a word, the rest of his firm trailing behind him. Effie quickly went to join the line of nurses bringing up the rear, but Sister Parry stopped her.

‘Where do you think you’re going? Tidy yourself up, Nurse, before you even think about showing your face. And you can be sure I’ll be mentioning this disgraceful behaviour in my ward report!’ she added.

Effie fled to the bathroom. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she could see why Sister had dismissed her. A collar stud was missing, and her cap sat rakishly on the black curls.

She pulled out the pins and had started to rearrange her hair when Hilda Ross came in.

‘Poor you,’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m mortified,’ Effie replied through a mouth full of pins. ‘I might never be able to look that poor consultant in the eye again. I could have sworn that door was locked.’

‘It was,’ Hilda said. ‘Your boyfriend locked you in.’

‘What?’ Effie swung round to face her. ‘Not Hugo? Why would he do such a thing?’

‘You know what he’s like. He loves his silly pranks.’ Hilda rolled her eyes. ‘And Bates was egging him on, of course. If you ask me, she’s every bit as much to blame as he is.’

‘Little cat.’ Effie glared at her reflection in the mirror and jabbed another pin into her cap. But underneath her anger, she was also hurt. Why would Hugo do something like that, knowing it would humiliate her in front of everyone?

Hilda must have got it wrong, she decided.

Effie got her chance to ask him later that afternoon. She was in the kitchen, making up some egg custard for Emily, the little girl who wouldn’t eat, when someone crept up behind her and put their hands over her eyes.

‘Guess who?’ Hugo whispered.

‘Go away!’ Effie shook him off. ‘Haven’t you got me in enough trouble for one day?’

She expected him to try to deny it, but he just laughed. ‘That was priceless, wasn’t it? The look on your face as you came flying through that door. Cheered up a dull old ward round no end, it did.’

‘Sister wasn’t very cheered,’ Effie said. ‘That’s another black mark in my ward report, thanks to you.’

‘Oh, come on, darling! I thought you’d see the funny side. I know you enjoy a good joke.’

‘Not when it’s on me!’

Hugo frowned. ‘You really are cross, aren’t you?’

‘Of course I’m cross! You made a fool of me in front of everyone. And you promised you wouldn’t play any more stupid pranks on me.’

‘Did I?’

‘Don’t you remember? That first evening you took me to dinner.’

‘So I did.’ Hugo grinned at the memory, then quickly sobered when he saw Effie’s expression. ‘I’m sorry, my sweet.
Mea culpa
, and all that. How can I make it up to you?’

Effie considered this as she strained her custard. As usual, it seemed to be more lumps than liquid, but she didn’t care for once because a smashing idea had occurred to her.

‘You could invite me to the Founder’s Day Ball?’ she suggested.

‘Oh!’ She caught Hugo’s look of surprise out of the corner of her eye. ‘Well, I wasn’t planning on taking anyone with me, but I suppose – why not?’ He shrugged. ‘Yes, my angel, if it will stop you being cross with me, then I would be delighted to invite you.’

‘And I would be delighted to accept,’ Effie replied.

And wouldn’t Frances be surprised when she found out? Effie thought.

IT WAS THE
first time Kathleen Fox had ever summoned Lucy Lane to her office.

The young nurse stood before her desk first thing in the morning, hands behind her back, face composed. But Kathleen could see her legs quivering under her perfectly starched uniform.

For the first time in her career as Matron, Kathleen felt almost as nervous as the girl standing before her. She wasn’t looking forward to what she had to say.

‘Don’t worry, Nurse Lane, you’re not in any trouble,’ she began kindly. ‘It’s just that something has occurred and I feel you should be made aware of it.’

‘Yes, Matron.’ The girl’s expression didn’t change. She went on staring straight ahead, past Kathleen’s shoulder and out of the window.

Kathleen reached into her drawer and took out the newspaper that Mr Hopkins had delivered to her office that morning. He was the first: since then there had been a parade of ward sisters, the Home Sister and Sister Tutor, the Assistant Matron and various junior housemen, all lining up outside her office to deliver the same news.

The only one who didn’t seem aware of it was Lucy Lane herself.

Kathleen laid the newspaper on the desk in front of her, folded open at the story. ‘Perhaps you would like to read it for yourself?’ she said.

Lucy’s eyes flickered down to the newspaper, then back up again. ‘Thank you, Matron, but I don’t need to read it. I think I know what it says,’ she replied in a flat tone.

‘Very well.’ Kathleen slid the newspaper back into her drawer and closed it. ‘I understand this must be a very difficult time for you, Nurse Lane.’

‘Yes, Matron.’

‘Perhaps, under the circumstances, it might be best if you went home? I daresay you would like to spend some time with your mother.’

A look of dismay flashed across Lucy Lane’s face, but was quickly masked.

‘Yes, Matron,’ she said.

‘Go back to your room and pack. I will inform the Home Sister that you will be leaving for a few days.’

The look of dismay was back in place. ‘If it’s acceptable to you, Matron, I would like to return this evening?’ Lucy ventured.

Kathleen frowned. ‘That really isn’t necessary, Lane. I know Parry is short-staffed, but I’m sure we can come to some arrangement . . .’ She saw the girl’s expression and reconsidered. ‘Very well. You may decide how long you need to be away. But you must stay overnight at least,’ Kathleen added. ‘I’m sure your mother will need you.’

‘Yes, Matron.’ Lucy lowered her eyes.

Poor girl, Kathleen thought as she dismissed her. She didn’t seem to grasp that home was the best place for her at the moment. By the end of the day, the whole hospital would be gossiping about her. With everything else that lay ahead of her, at least Kathleen could try to spare her that.

Lucy had never seen Jameson looking so shell-shocked as when he opened the door to her.

‘Miss Lucy.’ He greeted her with his usual gravity, but there was a tremor in his voice.

‘Is my mother—’ Before she could even ask the question, Gordon Bird appeared from the library.

‘Hello, Lucy,’ he said. ‘I thought I might come round, just to see if I could be of any use.’

‘I’m glad you’re here, Uncle Gordon.’ She hadn’t been looking forward to facing her mother alone. ‘How is Mother?’

‘She’s gone back to her room to rest. I’m afraid she’s finding all this rather upsetting.’

‘She’s
upset?’ Lucy said scornfully. She glanced at Jameson to make sure he wasn’t listening, then lowered her voice. ‘She was the one who got us into this mess. If she hadn’t talked to that wretched Leo Alderson—’

‘Now, Lucy, let’s not point the finger of blame at anyone,’ Gordon said mildly. ‘It won’t help the situation at all. We should all be pulling together.’

‘You’re right,’ Lucy sighed. Although she knew it would be very difficult to show her mother any sympathy.

But if anyone was to blame, it was Leo Alderson. And after he’d promised her he wouldn’t write the story. The feeling of betrayal was like a punch in the stomach. Lucy didn’t know who to trust any more.

She pulled herself together, and faced her godfather. ‘Is there anything that can be done, Uncle Gordon?’

‘I’ve been called to a meeting with the bank this morning. They’re not best pleased, as you can imagine. I’m hoping I can convince them that it has all been a dreadful misunderstanding, and that we didn’t set out to pull the wool over their eyes regarding your father’s – absence.’

Lucy could see from Gordon’s expression that he didn’t hold out much hope of succeeding. ‘And what if they don’t believe you?’

He shook his head. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ he said. ‘We’ll see what they have to say for themselves before we start thinking the worst, shall we?’

They had some tea, and discussed the situation further. Gordon kept telling her not to worry, that there was every reason to be optimistic, to believe there was a way out of their problems. He was doing his best to cheer her, Lucy could tell. But she could also tell he didn’t believe what he was saying, any more than she did.

When he’d left for his meeting with the bank, Lucy went upstairs to see her mother. The bedroom blinds were drawn, and in the half-light she could see Clarissa reclining on her chaise-longue, one hand over her eyes as if even the shade was too much for her.

When she saw Lucy she sat up and reached out both arms to her.

‘Oh, Lucy! My darling girl!’ A sob caught in her throat. ‘What’s to be done?’

Lucy forced herself to go to her. Her mother’s hands felt fragile in hers, tiny bones under papery skin.

‘Uncle Gordon has gone to see the bank. I’m sure he’ll be able to sort something out.’

‘Oh, he won’t be able to do anything,’ Clarissa dismissed impatiently. ‘They won’t listen to him.’