Nightingales at War (33 page)

AS IT TURNED
out, Cissy’s wedding wasn’t quite the grand affair she’d hoped for.

Three days after they had been rescued, Paul telephoned out of the blue to say he’d been given twenty-four hours’ leave the following week, and could they possibly organise the wedding by then?

The next few days were a flurry of activity, but everyone pitched in. While Cissy queued at the register office for a special licence, Mrs Stanton and her WVS volunteers pooled their rations to come up with the ingredients for a cake, and Eve set about making a dress from a length of parachute silk. It wasn’t exactly Norman Hartnell, but everyone agreed it was close enough.

Unfortunately, they could only get hold of enough fabric for one bridesmaid’s dress.

‘You should have it,’ Jennifer said to Eve. ‘You’re the one who’s stayed up day and night sewing, after all.’

But Eve refused. ‘It wouldn’t feel right,’ she said. ‘You’re Cissy’s best friend. You should be her bridesmaid.’

Eve was still stitching the hem as they got ready on the morning of the wedding.

‘She hasn’t stopped, has she?’ Cissy remarked as Jennifer put curlers in her hair for her. ‘But I suppose it takes her mind off what’s happened, doesn’t it? It must have been terrible for poor Eve, don’t you think, her aunt dying so suddenly? Her heart, wasn’t it?’

Jennifer watched Eve, her head bent over her sewing, humming to herself as she worked. She wasn’t sure it had been so terrible. Although her face was full of sorrow, she also looked as if she’d had a huge weight lifted from her shoulders.

But then, that might have been her new boyfriend’s influence, Jennifer thought.

Cissy still hadn’t got over seeing Eve throw her arms around Oliver and plant a huge kiss on his lips after their rescue. Everyone was in shock, especially Cissy.

‘You know, I could have sworn she had a soft spot for Dr Jameson,’ she’d marvelled. ‘Just goes to show, doesn’t it? Appearances can be deceptive. Not sure I like the idea of a conchie at my wedding, though,’ she’d added in a low voice. ‘Dunno how my Paul will feel about it either.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine when you tell him that conchie helped to save your life,’ Jennifer reminded her.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Cissy agreed. ‘Who would have thought he’d turn out to be such a hero?’

‘As you say, appearances can be deceptive.’

Jennifer finished putting in Cissy’s curlers and fastened a scarf around her head to keep them in place.

‘Right, your turn,’ Cissy said, getting up from the chair to let Jennifer sit down.

‘Oh, I’ll be all right,’ Jennifer dismissed this, her gaze cast down. ‘I’ll just put a comb through my hair . . .’

‘Jennifer Caldwell! This is my wedding and you’ll do as you’re told!’ Cissy planted her hands on her hips. ‘Besides, you want to look your best if—’ She stopped abruptly.

‘If what?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Nothing,’ Cissy said. But her enigmatic smile told a different story. She really was a terrible liar, Jennifer thought. ‘Anyway, sit down and let me put some curlers in, and I don’t want to hear another word about it!’

Jennifer slid into the chair reluctantly. She stared down at her hands folded in her lap as Cissy set to work.

Cissy sighed. ‘I do wish you’d learn to look past those scars, Jen. Everyone else has.’

I wish I could too, Jennifer thought. But they went too deep.

At Cissy and Paul’s wedding reception at the local pub, Jennifer lingered on the edge of the dance floor, watching the other couples whirling around in each other’s arms, and trying not to feel too jealous that she was the only girl in the room without a partner.

‘Not dancing, then?’ a man’s voice asked behind her.

Jennifer’s heart sank. She didn’t want to have to turn round and see that flash of revulsion in his eyes before he had time to hide it behind a smile. She didn’t think she could bear it, not again.

Her hand went up automatically to cover her cheek. ‘I’m not really one for dancing,’ she muttered.

‘That’s not what you used to tell me. You said you used to love the Palais on a Friday night.’

Without thinking, Jennifer swung round – and found herself staring into the steady gaze of Philip Chandler.

She had never seen his eyes unclouded before. They were sharp and brown, the colour of chestnuts. She’d never seen him on his feet either. It surprised her to see how tall and well-built he was in his smart RAF uniform. His features, though still damaged, were starting to take on a better appearance, thanks to the surgeons’ skill. As had his smile, which lit up on seeing her.

‘Philip?’

‘You recognise me then?’ He sounded disappointed. ‘And there was me, thinking I’d been transformed into a handsome prince.’

But Jennifer was too shocked to laugh at his joke. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m a guest at your friend’s wedding, same as you are. She wrote and invited me, told me you’d be here.’

Jennifer frowned. ‘Didn’t you get my letters?’

Philip’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. ‘Yes, I did,’ he said quietly.

‘So why didn’t you write back?’

‘I didn’t know what to say,’ he admitted. ‘I was angry when I first left the Nightingale. I didn’t really care what you said. I thought you still pitied me.’

Jennifer winced, remembering what he’d overheard. ‘I didn’t,’ she said.

‘I know that now. But by the time I realised your letters were sincere, I thought I’d left it too late. I thought you might have forgotten about me, until your friend wrote and told me how much you were missing me.’

Jennifer whipped round to look at Cissy, whirling over the dance floor in the arms of her new husband. ‘She told you that?’

‘Well, not in so many words,’ Philip admitted. ‘But she did suggest that you might like it if I could come and see you. Was she right?’ He eyed her cautiously.

‘Yes,’ Jennifer said. ‘Yes, she was.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He smiled with relief. ‘Because it took me a long time to wangle a twenty-four hour pass from the hospital, and I wouldn’t want to think I’d wasted my time!’

‘You’re still at the hospital?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Of course. There’s a long way to go before I recover my matinee idol good looks, you know.’

He grinned at her, completely untroubled by the interested stares he was attracting from around the dance floor. And much to her surprise, Jennifer found she was untroubled by them too.

‘How did you know it was me?’ she asked him, as they moved around the dance floor in a stately foxtrot. ‘You’ve never seen me before.’

Philip sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘Evening in Paris,’ he said. ‘I’d know it anywhere. And besides, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined you,’ he added.

She frowned for a moment, thinking he was making fun of her, then realised he meant every word.

He could see past her scars. Perhaps it was time she started to do the same.

ON A DAMP
Friday morning in February, Dora joined the ranks of other nurses and ward sisters to pay her respects at the funeral of Veronica Hanley.

They made a solemn group, standing in their uniformed rows around the grave. But all the time, Dora couldn’t shake off the thought:

It could have been me.

Her family had indulged her when she told them about hearing Danny’s voice warning her, but Dora knew deep down they didn’t really believe her. Danny was dead, and any idea that he might have been looking out for her from beyond the grave was just wishful thinking.

But Dora knew. She had heard his voice as clear as if he’d been standing at her shoulder. And then there was the basement door – when she’d leaned against it, she could swear it felt as if someone was pressing their weight against it from the other side, trying to keep her out.

Danny was looking out for her, she was certain of it. And the idea warmed and comforted her. It was his way of letting her know that he didn’t blame her for what had happened to him. That he wanted her to go on living, for Nick and for the twins.

And that was just what she was going to do. However long this wretched war lasted, she was going to stick it out and see it through to the bitter end, for Danny’s sake.

The funeral ended and they began to drift away from the graveside, back to the hospital. As she followed the other nurses, Dora heard a familiar voice calling her name. She turned round and started at the sight of the tall, slender figure standing under the trees.

She walked over to meet her. ‘You did it, then,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ Helen replied. ‘I did it.’

Dora looked her friend up and down. She looked so different in her grey military uniform, her peaked cap perched on her sleek dark head. ‘You look more like a soldier than a nurse,’ she commented, her throat suddenly dry.

‘I’ll be back in my ward dress and apron once I start work. And there’ll be another cap to learn to fold properly!’ Helen tried to smile, but there were tears sparkling in her brown eyes.

‘I hope it’s easier than the one they gave us here on our first day!’ Dora joked back, her throat clogged with emotion. Don’t cry, she told herself. Whatever you do, don’t cry.

They were silent for a moment. ‘Do you know where they’re sending you?’ Dora managed to ask.

Helen shook her head. ‘Not yet. But David thinks we’ll be stationed together.’

‘That’s good.’ Dora stared at the ground, not trusting herself to meet Helen’s eye.

‘It’s what I want,’ Helen said firmly.

‘I know.’

Dora still couldn’t believe her friend’s bravery, following the man she loved into an uncertain future. But at the same time she knew that if she had the chance to be with Nick, she would have taken it in a moment, war or no war.

She wasn’t upset for Helen, because she knew it was what she wanted. She was upset for herself, because it was someone else being taken away from her, another strand of her life that was unravelling. She wasn’t sure how much more of it she could stand.

‘I’ll miss you,’ Helen said.

Dora prided herself on being tough and keeping herself together, but those three words almost undid her. It was a moment before she could allow herself to say, ‘I’ll miss you, too. The old place won’t seem the same without you.’

‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘You just make sure you are.’

The silence stretched between them. Then Helen said, ‘Well, I’d best be going.’ She reached out and squeezed Dora’s hand. ‘I mean, it, you know. I will be back. And I’ll bring David and both our brothers and your Nick with me, I promise.’

Dora’s fingers tightened impulsively around Helen’s. ‘I’ll keep you to that,’ she said.

After the other nurses had gone, Kathleen stood for a moment, her head bowed, saying her own private goodbye to the courageous woman whose judgement she had come to trust more than she’d ever imagined she would.

‘It’s hard to believe she’s really gone, isn’t it?’

Kathleen looked round. James Cooper stood behind her, sombre in his black suit.

‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘I keep expecting to see her coming down the passageway to find me, with yet another complaint or question.’

‘I don’t suppose you miss that?’

‘Actually, I already do,’ Kathleen replied with a sad smile.

Once she had thought Veronica Hanley was a tyrant whose sole purpose was to frustrate her. But over the past months she had come to realise that her deputy was a deeply caring person, a woman who believed in doing her duty, and did it unflinchingly.

An image of her in her tin hat, fearlessly fire-watching on the roof while bombs exploded around her, came into Kathleen’s mind. That was what she would always remember about Veronica Hanley. Her indomitable spirit.

James Cooper fell into step beside her as they approached the main hospital block. Kathleen knew what was coming, and she was dreading it, almost as much as she had been dreading the funeral.

‘I haven’t seen you for a while,’ he said.

‘I’ve been very busy, trying to sort out the repairs.’

‘I thought you were just avoiding me?’

Mr Philips and his men were out in force again, patiently trying to move the rubble. A team of volunteers had joined them, forming a human chain as they shifted the weighty lumps of rock away from the bomb site. Kathleen could hardly bear to look at it.

James, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off it. ‘I nearly went mad when I realised you were buried under that,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ Then he paused and said, ‘But I did lose you, didn’t I?’

Kathleen allowed herself to look at him at last. He was so handsome, it almost broke her heart.

‘You’re not coming away with me, are you?’ he said.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be right. Not while the Nightingale needs me.’

‘I need you!’ He smiled sadly. ‘But I suppose some things are never meant to be, are they?’

‘No,’ she said. But it had been wonderful while it lasted. A romantic fantasy she would never forget for as long as she lived.

‘Did you ever think you would do it?’

‘I was writing my resignation letter when the explosion happened.’

His mouth twisted. ‘So just a few hours more and you might have been mine.’

Kathleen didn’t reply. She knew Miss Hanley was right. She would never have been happy, knowing it was at someone else’s expense.

They walked a little further, towards the main ward block. For the time being Kathleen’s office had been moved to one of the rooms adjoining a disused ward.

‘What will you do?’ she asked. ‘Will you stay?’

‘Would you like me to?’

There was no answer to that. Seeing him every day, knowing she would never be able to hold him or even touch him again, would be torture to Kathleen.

But then, so was the thought of never seeing him again.

‘I’ve arranged to transfer out to the sector hospital,’ he answered her question. ‘I think that might be best under the circumstances, don’t you?’

She nodded. ‘And will your wife be joining you?’

He sent her a haunted look. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘It might be a good idea,’ she said. ‘You never know, perhaps it would be good for you to make a new start?’

James Cooper sent her a long, sad look. ‘That’s what I’d hoped for,’ he said. ‘A new start.’

Kathleen deliberately turned away so she wouldn’t see the pain in his face. It was the same pain as she was feeling.

She turned her attention back to the men working on the site. The bomb had exploded right in the centre of the hospital, tearing out its heart.

She knew how it felt.

‘It’s an ugly scar, isn’t it?’ James commented, following her gaze.

‘Scars heal. You of all people should know that.’

‘And do you think the Nightingale will ever heal?’

Kathleen lifted her chin. ‘I’ll make sure it does,’ she said.