Nightingales on Call (42 page)

Sister Sutton didn’t take the news very well when Kathleen went to see her later.

‘But I simply don’t understand it,’ she kept saying. ‘Jess is such a good girl, a hard worker, and scrupulously honest.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m a very good judge of character, and I don’t believe she would do such a thing.’

‘I must confess, I was surprised too,’ Kathleen admitted. She had seen Jess every day since she had started visiting Sister Sutton, and she had seemed like a very pleasant, conscientious girl. Loyal, too. She rarely left the Home Sister’s bedside, attending to her every need with great patience. Matron couldn’t imagine that was a rewarding task, given Sister Sutton’s irascible character. ‘But I can’t deny the evidence against her. Nurse Padgett caught her red-handed, and with other witnesses present, too. One cannot argue with the facts, no matter how much one might wish to do so.’

‘But did she say why she did it, Matron?’

‘She didn’t say a great deal, except to maintain that she was returning the stolen objects to their rightful place. A rather curious assertion, given the circumstances.’ Kathleen frowned. If Jess Jago wasn’t the thief, then she certainly knew who was. And she would rather go to the gallows herself than offer them up for punishment.

Sister Sutton’s eyes glistened, and she dabbed at them with her handkerchief. ‘Thief or not, Sparky and I shall miss her dearly,’ she said.

‘I know, Sister. Which, I’m afraid, brings me on to the real reason I’m here.’ Kathleen smiled at her sympathetically. ‘Since there is no one to nurse you . . .’

‘You want me to return to the sick bay?’ Sister Sutton finished for her. ‘It’s quite all right, Matron, I have been expecting you to ask me that. I shall be happy to oblige. I don’t wish to be a nuisance. Although I’m sure I’m quite well enough to resume my duties.’

‘Really, Sister Sutton, I wouldn’t want you to return until you’re fully recovered.’

‘But you will want me to return?’ The Home Sister’s face was suddenly anxious.

‘Of course.’ Kathleen frowned. ‘I can’t imagine why you would think otherwise.’ She leaned forward and patted the elderly woman’s hand. ‘You just concentrate on getting better, my dear.’

‘Yes . . . yes, of course. Thank you, Matron.’ A faraway look came into Sister Sutton’s face then and she frowned, as if a troubling thought had just struck her. ‘Matron, those items that were stolen . . . can you remember what they were?’

Kathleen considered it for a moment. ‘Let’s see. A couple of items of jewellery, I believe. And some perfume.’

‘Midnight in Paris.’ Sister Sutton’s voice was faint.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Kathleen frowned. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘No reason. I just had a vague recollection . . . no, it’s gone.’ She smiled at Kathleen, her face clearing. ‘I’m sorry, Matron, I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose this business with Jess Jago has unsettled me rather. I feel so terribly disappointed.’

Kathleen nodded. ‘That girl has disappointed us all,’ she agreed.

‘You see?’ Anna was telling anyone who would listen at the pros’ table that evening. ‘I told you, didn’t I? I said she was a thief. I could see it the moment I looked at her. She’s got a thief’s eyes, hasn’t she? Sly and shifty.’

‘Oh, do shut up, Padgett,’ Effie said wearily, picking at her food. ‘We’re all tired of hearing about it.’

‘You just can’t bear it that you were wrong and I was right,’ Anna said. ‘And to think you were her friend! You must be feeling rather foolish now, I imagine. All those hours she spent in your room, pretending to help you study. She was probably having a good look round, working out what to steal. You should have a look through
your
belongings, O’Hara. She’s probably already pawned half of them!’

Effie opened her mouth to defend Jess, then realised she had nothing to say. Anna was right, there was too much evidence against her.

Effie thought about the day she’d arrived in London, when her bag was stolen. She still didn’t believe that Jess had been involved, even if it was her stepbrother who had taken it.

But today, in Anna’s room, Jess had stood there, with the stolen earring in her hand, and guilt written all over her face. Effie had been thinking about it all afternoon, but even she couldn’t find an excuse for her friend.

Even so, she wished she had been allowed to say goodbye to her before she left. But Jess had been whisked off to see Matron, and when Effie knocked on her door an hour later there was no answer.

‘Let’s face it, O’Hara, you’re far too naïve,’ Anna said, helping herself to more bread and ham. As it was Sunday the kitchen staff were off, so they made do with cold cuts in the dining room. ‘You placed your trust in someone and they betrayed you. But we did try to warn you, didn’t we, girls? None of this would have happened if you’d stuck to your own kind.’

And who are my own kind? Effie wanted to snap. She hadn’t seen any of her own kind giving up their time to help her when she feared she might fail her exams. She hadn’t seen any of her own kind risking the wrath of Sister Sutton to smuggle her in through the window when she’d stayed out late, either. Jess Jago might not have called herself a friend, but she had been more of a friend to Effie than any of the other girls.

After supper the rest of her set had planned a trip to the cinema, but for once Effie didn’t feel like going out. One or two of the girls tried to persuade her to come, but Anna said, ‘Oh, leave her alone if she just wants to mope about.’

‘I don’t want to mope about. I just don’t want to listen to you telling us all how you were right all along,’ Effie retaliated.

When they’d gone she tried to settle in her room and read a book. But reading always made her restless. Once again she thought about Jess. It had never ceased to amaze Effie how Jess could lose herself in a book for hours on end, to the point where she was oblivious to the rest of the world. Seeing all those words on the page just gave Effie a headache.

She wandered downstairs to the sitting room, looking for a diversion. It felt odd to be able to walk around the nurses’ home without fear of Sister Sutton descending at any moment. It was quiet too, without Sparky yapping about the place. He had gone off to stay at the Sisters’ home, where he was under the dubious protection of Sister Parker. Effie didn’t envy him, if she treated the dog the way she treated her students.

But even the sitting room seemed too quiet and empty. Effie flicked through the selection of gramophone records. Nothing caught her eye. What was the point of music anyway when there was no one to dance with? She found some playing cards and arranged them to play Patience. Jess had often watched her play, and they’d laughed at the idea of Effie having patience with anything.

Sure enough, she gave up halfway through the game. She could almost hear Jess’ voice teasing her – ‘There should be a game called No Patience for you!’ – as she put the cards away.

It was no use, Effie thought. She was simply too miserable to be entertained. Perhaps she should have gone to the cinema with the others after all. At least there she could have been unhappy with other people rather than on her own.

As she headed for the stairs her eyes turned towards the door to Jess’ room at the end of the passageway. Even though she knew there would be no one in there, Effie couldn’t resist taking a look inside.

The room was empty, stripped bare, the pillows and quilt neatly folded. It felt strange not to see Jess’ books on the shelves above her bed, or her brush and comb set out neatly side by side on the dresser.

But there was something. On the bedside table was an ancient-looking anatomy textbook together with a note reading: ‘For Sister Sutton’.

Effie picked it up. This must be the book Sister had lent Jess, she thought. But what kind of thief returned a book? Once again, she had the nagging feeling that none of this was right. Jess was far too honest to steal from anyone.

And yet . . . hadn’t she as good as admitted it to Matron? Effie sighed. There was something staring her in the face, if only she was clever enough to work it out. She felt as if she was letting her friend down by not seeing it.

Effie took the book back to Sister Sutton’s flat. She knew the Home Sister would not be there, but thought she might leave it somewhere for her to find. At least Sister Sutton would know Jess was an honest soul.

She had never been into Sister Sutton’s flat before and was instantly overwhelmed by the knick-knacks and ornaments crowded on to every surface. She moved cautiously, being careful not to dislodge anything. She had never seen so many bits and pieces: little dolls from different countries, tiny vases, paperweights, pottery puppies and kittens, a leprechaun . . .

Effie stopped short, eyes flicking back to the little man in green, sitting cheekily on a pottery tree stump, nursing a crock of gold. She recognised the ornament immediately. She had given it to her sister Katie as a birthday present, just before she came to England. They’d joked about how she would find her own crock of gold in London.

What was it doing on Sister Sutton’s mantelpiece? wondered Effie. Either she’d been on a trip to Ireland, or else Katie must have given it to her.

She picked it up and examined it. Surely it must be Katie’s? She was still puzzling over it when she heard the front door opening. Guiltily, she shoved the ornament back on to the mantelpiece and slipped back into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Katie returned just after nine o’clock.

‘I’m so tired.’ She collapsed backwards on to her bed. ‘Casualty never stopped. Three people got run over, a boy came off his motorbike, and a woman fell off a chair while putting up curtains. Honest to God, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.’ She stuck out her foot. ‘Pull my shoes off for me, there’s a love. I don’t think I’ve got the strength to do it myself.’

As Effie unlaced her sister’s shoe, she said, ‘Do you remember that leprechaun I bought you for your eighteenth birthday?’

‘I think so. What about it?’

‘Do you know what happened to it?’

‘I think it’s on the windowsill . . .’

‘It isn’t. I looked.’

Katie sat up, glancing around. ‘Well, it’s around here somewhere.’ She frowned at Effie. ‘Why? What do you want it for?’

Effie shook her head. ‘No reason. I just wondered, that’s all.’

SEPTEMBER BLEW IN,
and the weather changed from glorious summer to bleak autumn. Almost overnight the sky blackened, the wind pulled at the plane trees in the courtyard, and rain lashed at the windows.

Inside the wards the maids lit the fires and the babies’ prams were covered with mackintoshes as they sat out on the verandah.

It was strange that little Emily Jarvis, a child who had drawn so little attention during her life, should choose such a dramatic day to die.

No one knew exactly when it happened. The night nurse had checked on her at four and she had been sleeping peacefully. But by the time they’d gone to wake her two hours later, Emily was gone.

It came as no surprise to anyone. Even though it had taken weeks for her body to waste away, everyone knew Emily had stopped living a long time before.

But Dora still struggled to contain her emotions when the Night Sister delivered the news at seven o’clock. There was something very special about Emily. She had never made a sound while she was on the ward, had never even looked at Dora or acknowledged her when she tried to feed her or hold her hand. And yet Dora felt a connection with her she found hard to explain.

Even when she and the other nurses went around the ward checking on the patients before Sister Parry arrived, Dora couldn’t bring herself to look at the curtained-off corner where Emily’s bed had stood. She had to look away when the pros stripped it and took away the mattress and pillows to be cleaned.

Luckily, Dora had managed to check her emotions by the time Sister Parry arrived on the ward at half-past. She received the news of Emily’s death with her usual sang-froid, although she did surprise everyone when she announced that she would perform last offices herself.

‘And Doyle will assist me,’ she ordered.

Dora opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again when she saw Sister Parry’s forbidding expression. ‘Yes, Sister,’ she muttered.

She was setting up the trolley in the sluice when Lucy came to find her. ‘Are you all right about doing this?’ she asked. ‘If you really can’t face it, I could tell Sister you’ve been taken ill?’

Once, Dora might have assumed Lucy was trying to get one over on her, or to curry favour with Sister. Now she understood that she was acting out of genuine concern for her, and she appreciated it.

‘Thank you for the offer, but I’d best do it myself,’ she said. ‘You remember how Sister played merry hell with me when I did last offices instead of Elliott once? I’d hate it if she took you to task for the same reason.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Lucy said. ‘I just didn’t want to see you upset, that’s all. I know how fond you were of little Emily.’

‘That’s probably why Sister picked me, the horrible old boot,’ Dora said gloomily. ‘Anyway, it’s the last thing I can do for Emily, so I’d like to do it.’

She wheeled the trolley to the room where the child had been laid to rest. Sister Parry was already there, standing at the foot of the bed, her hands folded in front of her.

‘Close the door, Nurse Doyle, and we shall pray.’

Dora folded her hands and listened as Sister Parry prayed that God might take Emily’s soul into His safe keeping, and deliver her from suffering. Dora steeled herself as Sister Parry ended her prayer and pulled back the top sheet. Emily looked even more like a doll in repose, her frail body so tiny in the vast whiteness of the bed.

Sister Parry was brisk and efficient as they worked together. Dora washed the girl while Sister cut her nails and brushed her hair.

‘You were very attached to the child, weren’t you?’ Sister Parry said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Dora didn’t look up. ‘I had a soft spot for her, Sister,’ she replied.

‘Then I daresay you must think I’m being rather cruel, asking you to do this?’