Nightingales on Call (45 page)

‘He ain’t worth swinging for, Mum.’

‘But what he did to you—’

Suddenly all the fight seemed to drain out of Rose. She collapsed against Dora like a rag doll, spent and exhausted. Dora could only cling to her.

‘How did you find out?’ she whispered.

‘Josie told me.’

Dora stiffened. ‘But she wouldn’t – she didn’t want to say anything.’

‘You’re right, she didn’t. But she knew she had to, for your sake.’

‘For me?’

‘She thought you were going to tell me, take it all on yourself.’ Rose pulled away and wiped the blood from her split lip. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Dora? Why didn’t you come to me?’

‘Because I didn’t want it to be true.’ She couldn’t look at her mother. She’d imagined having this conversation so many times, but had never thought it would happen. Especially not like this, standing on a deserted canal bank in the moonlight. ‘I thought if I didn’t say anything, I could just pretend it was a nightmare.’ She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘And he made me feel as if it was my fault, as if I was the one to blame. He said you’d hate me if you found out.’

She finally found the courage to look into her mother’s face. The moonlight caught the tears glistening in Rose’s eyes.

‘Oh, my poor love.’ Her voice was choked. She reached for Dora, stroking her face. ‘As if I could ever hate you.’ Rose shuddered. ‘To think what that – that monster did to you and Josie under my roof, and I had no idea.’

She broke down then, sinking to her knees and sobbing as if her heart was torn beyond repair. Dora had never seen her proud East End mother brought so low, and it made her hate Alf even more.

But she couldn’t share her mother’s grief and shock. Dora felt detached, as if it had happened to someone else. But it was all new and raw to Rose, this agony. It would hurt like a fresh wound, bleeding and exposed. Dora had been through that stage, she was beyond feeling pain any more. Her wounds had healed, and all that was left were scars that would never disappear.

‘I didn’t see it, I didn’t know,’ her mother repeated, over and over again. ‘I feel so ashamed.’

‘Mum, don’t. You mustn’t blame yourself. Alf was clever . . . cunning.’

‘But I’m your mother, I should have known. I should have protected you both. Only I was so busy thinking about myself, about making a nice home for my family, I didn’t see what was going on right under my nose. I let you both down so badly . . .’

‘You didn’t, Mum, I promise you.’ Dora pressed her face against her mother’s shoulder. ‘That’s why we couldn’t tell you. We knew you’d only blame yourself. But it ain’t your fault, Mum, any more than it was Josie’s fault, or mine. He’s the one to blame, not us.’

‘And to think he had the nerve to show his face here again!’ Rose’s voice was filled with disgust. ‘I can’t stand to think I let him back in my house, had him sitting at my table . . .’

‘You weren’t to know.’

‘I didn’t trust him.’ Rose dashed the tears from her cheek with her sleeve. ‘When he came back, there was something about him. But I thought it was just me, not being able to forgive him after what he did to us before. And then Josie came to me . . .’

Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Dora. ‘You offered him money to leave?’

‘I had to get rid of him somehow. For Josie’s sake.’

‘You should have told me.’

‘I couldn’t. You seemed so happy he was back.’

‘Happy?’ Rose stared at her in astonishment. ‘I wasn’t happy, love. I could hardly stand to look at him, after the way he walked out on us. But I’ve always tried to do what was best for the family, and I knew the kids needed their dad, so I thought I’d have to try for their sakes.’ She looked at Dora, her face desolate. ‘Little did I know I was inviting a monster back into our home. If I’d known then what I know now . . .’ She broke off, her voice shaking.

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ Dora whispered. ‘It’s over. Let’s just try to forget it, shall we?’ she pleaded.

‘I don’t know if I ever can, love.’

This was what Dora had always feared, and she knew it was what Josie feared, too. It was what had kept them both silent for so many years.

‘You must, Mum. For our sake.’ Dora looked out across the canal, its dark, oily ribbon of water stretching towards the railway bridge.

She knew her mother was right; she should have spoken out about what was happening to her. But deep down she knew she’d never have been brave enough to say the words. In the end it was her sister, the little girl she’d always striven to protect, who had found the courage to speak up, for both their sakes. Dora was glad it was all out in the open at last. At least now she could face her family without feeling there was a barrier between them, a terrible unspoken secret she could never divulge.

But at the same time she was scared. She didn’t want this to spoil things between them for ever. She couldn’t bear the idea of her mother seeing Alf whenever she looked at Dora, remembering what he’d done to her child.

‘Josie and I have lived with this for too long. We don’t want to go through it any more. Please?’ begged Dora.

Her mother turned to her with a face full of understanding. ‘It’s over, Dora.’ She smiled tenderly at her daughter. ‘We’ll never have to see that man’s face, or mention his name, ever again, I promise.’

The following day, Dora caught the bus to Wanstead. All the way there, she tried to tell herself that Alf Doyle had been lying. But no matter what she told herself, she couldn’t silence her own fears.

She tried to tell herself the fair wouldn’t be there. But as she got off the bus at the common, she could already see the glow of coloured lights in the sky and hear the faint, jolly strains of a fairground organ.

The fair was busy, crowded with sweethearts wandering hand in hand and families trying their luck on the various sideshows. Rich smells of toffee and frying onions filled the air.

Dora hardly noticed any of it as she pushed her way through the milling crowds, looking for the boxing booth. She circled the fairground three times before she realised it wasn’t there.

‘Lost someone, love?’ a woman called out to her from the coconut shy. She was a small, dumpy creature, swaddled in various layers of clothing, her hair caught up in a scarf. ‘That must be a dozen times you’ve walked past me.’

Dora stepped into the pool of light around the shy. ‘I was looking for the boxing booth.’

‘Oh, yeah? Fancy trying your luck, do you?’ The woman cackled, showing a few brown stumps where her teeth should have been. ‘Sorry, girl, you’re going to have to find something else to punch. Boxing booth’s closed down.’

Dora heard her heart pounding in her ears. ‘What about Nick Riley?’

‘Who? Oh, you mean the bloke who ran the stall? He’s gone, too.’

‘When?’

All the blood in Dora’s head rushed to her feet, making her head spin. ‘When?’ she heard herself ask faintly.

‘Let’s see. . . . . .’ The woman was distracted for a moment as a customer approached. Dora waited, impatience gnawing away at her, as the woman took their money and handed over three wooden balls. ‘Be lucky, love.’ She grinned at them and then turned back to Dora. ‘I reckon it must have been a good few weeks ago now.’ She considered it for a moment. ‘Yes, that’s right. Just after we left Oxford.’

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Dora asked.

‘Hah! Not to me, love. Surly little sod, he was. Getting him to say good morning was like getting blood out of a stone.’ She kept her eyes fixed on the child aiming balls at the shy. Each one missed its target and landed with a soft thump against the thick canvas. ‘Decided life on the road wasn’t for him, I expect. Don’t suit everyone.’ She made a sympathetic face at the child. ‘Oh, bad luck, son. Come back and have another go later.’ She bent to gather up the wooden balls, groaning with the effort. ‘No, if you ask me, he’s headed off home. I expect that’s where you’ll find him.’

I wouldn’t bet on it, Dora thought. She thanked the woman automatically and turned away.

‘Friend of his, was you?’ the woman called after her.

Dora smiled sadly. ‘Once, maybe,’ she said. ‘But not any more.’

SISTER SUTTON SEEMED
rather flustered to see Kathleen Fox at the door to her flat.

‘Matron! I wasn’t expecting you.’ She brushed down her uniform. ‘Is anything the matter?’

‘Not at all, Sister Sutton. I just thought I’d drop in and see how you’re getting on after your illness?’

‘Oh, I’m fully recovered, thank you, Matron,’ Sister Sutton dismissed. ‘It was really a lot of fuss over nothing.’

‘Not according to Dr McKay. He says your kidney infection was very severe. He’s surprised you didn’t have any symptoms earlier?’

‘Well, you know me, Matron. I’m as strong as an ox.’

Are you? Kathleen wondered. The Home Sister certainly looked strong enough, her bulky body filling the doorway to her flat. But there was something oddly vulnerable about her that Kathleen had never noticed before.

‘That’s a relief, at any rate.’ She smiled. ‘May I come in?’

Sister Sutton looked startled. ‘Come in, Matron?’

‘I thought we might have a cup of tea together. If you have time, that is?’

‘Well, I do have to supervise that new maid –’ Sister Sutton’s hands twisted together, betraying her tension. ‘But of course, Matron,’ she said, remembering her manners. ‘Please come in.’

She seemed even more agitated inside her flat, ordering tea from the maid and fussing around plumping up cushions, even though her sitting room was immaculate.

‘Please don’t stand on ceremony on my account,’ Kathleen said. ‘This is purely a social call.’

‘Is it?’ Sister Sutton’s eyes were sharp.

‘Of course. Why else would I be here?’

The maid arrived, bringing the tea tray. Kathleen smiled to herself as Sister Sutton inspected it: snapping at the girl for not remembering a tray cloth, and sending her to fetch a clean spoon.

‘How is she settling in?’ Kathleen asked, when the maid had gone.

Sister Sutton sighed. ‘She tries hard, I suppose. But she’s not terribly quick on the uptake. Not like . . .’ She abruptly stopped speaking.

‘Not like Jess Jago?’ Kathleen finished for her. ‘You miss her, then?’

Sister Sutton nodded. ‘Very much. She seemed so bright and willing to me, I always thought some of the students could have learned something from her. But as it turned out, I was wrong.’ She stared down at the dog at her feet. ‘I still can’t quite bring myself to believe it,’ she said.

Neither can I, Kathleen thought. She had dismissed Effie O’Hara’s pleas from her mind, too preoccupied with other hospital matters to give them much thought. But she couldn’t forget what the student nurse had said. The idea that Jess Jago might have been unfairly accused played on her mind.

And since she had spoken to Dr McKay the previous evening, it had been weighing even more heavily on her.

Her gaze drifted up to the mantelpiece. ‘You have a lot of treasures,’ she remarked.

Sister Sutton smiled shyly. ‘I do like my little keepsakes,’ she said. ‘I know it’s a silly indulgence, but I’m rather fond of them. And I think they brighten the place up a bit.’

‘They certainly do. May I?’ Kathleen rose to her feet to inspect them. ‘I suppose you remember them all?’ she said.

‘Yes, of course,’ Sister Sutton replied. ‘Each one was a gift from a friend or a grateful patient, or else a souvenir of a place I’ve visited. They’re all memories, which is why I treasure them.’

Kathleen’s eye moved along the crowded rows of figurines, coloured glass and miniature models of landmarks, until she found what she was looking for, nestling behind a pair of coy-looking china children holding hands.

‘What about this one?’ she asked, picking up the leprechaun. ‘Was this a gift?’

Sister Sutton put down her cup and reached for her spectacles. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I suppose it must have been, since I’ve never visited Ireland . . . yes, I think it was a present.’ She frowned at the figure in Kathleen’s hand, her face troubled. ‘How odd that I can’t recall who it was from. I can remember all the others perfectly.’

‘I don’t wonder you can’t recall it, since it was never given to you.’

The Home Sister’s head went back. ‘Whatever do you mean, Matron?’

‘I mean this ornament was taken from Nurse O’Hara’s room some time ago.’

Sister Sutton’s tiny dark eyes filled with alarm. ‘I hope you’re not saying – you don’t think I stole it?’

‘No, Sister, I don’t think that at all. But I do think you might have taken it without realising. And I think you might have taken other things, too.’

The Home Sister unhooked her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. Kathleen watched her carefully. She had expected her to react with outrage, but Sister Sutton seemed unsurprised, almost resigned.

‘Do you think you might have taken it, Sister?’ Kathleen prompted her gently.

‘I – I don’t know.’ Sister Sutton’s voice faltered. ‘I might have, but I really have no memory of it. My thoughts have been all over the place lately. I’ve found myself saying and doing the most extraordinary things . . .’ When she looked up at Kathleen, her broad face was creased in fear. ‘You’re right, Matron. I believe I did take those things. I have no recollection of it, but since Jess was accused, I have begun to wonder more and more whether she found the items and decided to return them to their owners.’

‘So she was telling the truth when she said she was putting them back?’ Kathleen spoke her thoughts aloud.

‘I believe she did it to protect me. And that’s why she didn’t speak up to clear her own name.’ Sister Sutton’s mouth trembled. ‘I’ve been so troubled by it, I wondered if I should say something myself. But having no recollection, I didn’t know if I was mistaken.’ She looked at the china leprechaun. ‘But I suppose this proves it,’ she sighed heavily. ‘I am a thief, and Jess Jago was innocent all along.’

Kathleen watched as Sister Sutton lumbered to her feet, her movements slow and stiff. The Home Sister seemed to have aged twenty years in the last five minutes.

‘I will hand in my resignation at once,’ she said with dignity. ‘I know I have no right to ask it of you, Matron, but I wonder if you would allow me some time to pack my belongings and find somewhere else to live? Although I will understand if, under the circumstances, you would prefer me to leave straight away.’