The Nightingale Nurses (14 page)

‘Very good. But we will have to have it altered, of course. If only you weren’t so thin . . .’ Constance shrugged. ‘Oh, well, I suppose it can’t be helped.’ She nodded to the salesgirl, who hurried off to fetch her pins.

As Helen stood there patiently, being tucked and darted and hemmed into place, Constance opened her capacious crocodile-skin handbag, took out her diary and consulted it. ‘Now, I have a number of errands to do in town, and then I have to go to the hospital. I have a meeting with Matron about some new equipment she has insisted we order.’ Helen recognised the light of battle in her eyes. ‘We can take a taxi to the Nightingale together.’

‘Oh, there’s no need. I’m meeting Charlie in town.’

Constance looked up sharply. ‘But I’d planned for us to have tea in Fortnum’s.’

Helen twisted round to look at her. Constance was already consulting her diary again, ticking things off as if that was an end to the matter.

‘I’m sorry, Mother, but Charlie will already be on his way. I can’t put him off.’ Not that Helen would want to, even if she could. ‘Why don’t we all have tea together?’ she suggested.

Constance’s mouth lifted at the corner. ‘In Fortnum’s? I don’t think so, my dear.’

Helen bristled. ‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s not really what he’s used to, is it?’

He’s not going to drink his tea out of his saucer, if that’s what you’re worried about, Helen thought. ‘We could go to Lyons instead?’

‘But I want to go to Fortnum’s.’

Helen sighed. ‘I wish you’d give Charlie a chance, Mother,’ she said. ‘You’d like him if you got to know him.’

‘I’m sure he’s a pleasant enough young man, in his way.’ Constance turned her attention to the salesgirl instead. ‘Are you sure that hem is quite straight?’ she said. ‘It looks rather lopsided to me.’

Helen turned back to the mirror, frustration welling up inside her. As usual, her mother had closed the subject. But this time Helen was determined to get her point across.

‘You’ll have to meet him at the ball,’ she said.

‘Oh, no, I don’t think so, dear.’ Constance didn’t lift her gaze from the hem of the dress.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean he’s not coming to the ball.’ Her mother looked at Helen. ‘You didn’t really think he was invited, did you?’ she said with a quizzical smile.

‘But he’s my boyfriend! All the other girls are taking theirs.’

Constance shot a look at the salesgirl crouching at their feet. ‘This is not the time to discuss it,’ she said. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

‘No, Mother, we’ll talk about it now.’ Helen fought to keep her voice from shaking. ‘I’m not letting you sweep this under the carpet again. You’re always doing this, pretending Charlie doesn’t exist. Why don’t you want him to come to the ball?’

Constance went white to her lips. ‘Really, Helen, I don’t know why you’re taking this tone with me,’ she snapped. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m only doing it because I’m concerned for him. I don’t want him to feel embarrassed or out of place.’

‘Who says he’d be out of place?’

Her mother smiled condescendingly. ‘It’s not a world he’s used to, is it? Mixing with important and influential people, he’d be like a fish out of water. I’m sure he’d be far happier staying with his own kind.’

‘His own kind?’

‘You know what I mean.’ Her mother pursed her lips. ‘Working-class people.’

Helen gasped. ‘This isn’t about Charlie at all. You don’t want him there because you’re worried he’ll embarrass you.’

‘No, I’m worried he’ll embarrass
you
.’ Constance’s dark eyes flared with anger.

‘He won’t,’ Helen said. ‘Because I’m not a snob like you.’

‘If being a snob means I don’t think he’s good enough for you, then perhaps I am.’ Constance bristled. ‘Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. He’s not coming to the ball, and that’s final.’

‘Very well. If he’s not coming then neither am I.’ Helen looked down at the salesgirl, who was clearly enjoying every word. ‘Help me take this off, please. We won’t be buying it after all.’

The girl started to pull out the pins, but Constance stopped her. ‘Please continue,’ she instructed. ‘Really, Helen, do you have to be so dramatic? You’re making yourself look foolish.’

‘I mean it, Mother. I’d rather stay at home than go to this wretched ball without Charlie.’

Their eyes clashed and held for a moment, both waiting for the other to yield.

‘You’re being very childish,’ her mother said in a low voice.

‘We’ll see, shall we?’ Helen turned to the girl. ‘Are you going to help me with this horrible dress or do I have to tear it off?’ she snapped, surprising herself with her sharp tone. Usually she would be all apologetic politeness, but her mother had enraged her too much.

Without waiting for a reply, Helen gathered up the dress and headed back to the changing room, trailing pins behind her.

‘Helen, wait! Put that dress back on at once, you’re making an exhibition of yourself!’ Her mother’s sharp voice followed her into the changing room. ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Not until you’re ready to listen to
me
.’ She swished the changing-room curtain across, shutting out her mother’s livid face.

Constance Tremayne poured herself a cup of tea. She was so upset, she didn’t even check if the pot was warmed properly.

Having tea in Fortnum & Mason was one of her little treats whenever she came up to town from Richmond. But now Helen had ruined it all with her silly temper tantrum.

The mere fact that her daughter had spoken to her like that was proof to Constance that Charlie Dawson was not a good influence. Helen would never have defied her like that before she met him, and she certainly wouldn’t have flounced out of the shop, leaving her humiliated in front of the salesgirl. Helen used to be such a respectful, well-mannered girl, and
he
was turning her into a hoyden. She would be eating pease pudding and swearing like a docker soon.

Constance pursed her lips, remembering how rude Helen had been. Why couldn’t she see her mother was only doing this for her own good? Everything Constance Tremayne did was for Helen’s benefit, to help her to rise as far as she could in the world and never sink into ignominy.

Because Constance Tremayne had been there, and she never, ever wanted that for her daughter.

She shuddered to remember the mistakes she had made when she was a young girl like Helen. The man she had fallen in love with had far more wealth and power than Charlie Dawson, but he’d still brought about her downfall. Constance had been so besotted, she hadn’t seen the danger until it was too late and her reputation was ruined.

Marriage to Timothy Tremayne, a young curate, had saved her and helped restore her to her rightful place in respectable society. But no matter how many charitable committees she sat on, how many flower shows she judged and how blameless a life she led, the memory of her earlier disgrace was like a stain on her character that she could never wash off.

The only thing she could do was to make sure her daughter never made the same mistake. From the moment Helen was born, Constance had exercised ruthless control over her daughter’s life. She chose her clothes, her friends, dictated where she went to school and what her career should be. She knew she could be overbearing at times, but she was acting out of love.

And then Charlie Dawson had come along, and twenty years of careful management had gone out of the window.

Helen thought she was in love, but Constance knew better. She understood how that kind of infatuation could ruin a life. And she wasn’t prepared to sit back and watch her daughter brought low by an East End stallholder’s son.

Constance Tremayne had come too far for that.

‘
OI! KEEP YOUR
hands off the merchandise.’

Ruby grinned at the stallholder, a potato in her hand. ‘Ain’t I allowed to know what I’m buying?’

‘As long as you
are
buying.’

‘’Course I am.’ Ruby tossed him the potato. ‘I’ll have two pounds, and half a pound of carrots to go with them.’

‘Cooking a nice roast for your husband, are you?’ The costermonger smiled. ‘That’s the way to a man’s heart, so they say.’

‘I can think of a better way!’ Ruby winked at him, then caught his wife’s fierce glare.

‘Take no notice of her,’ the man whispered as he tipped the potatoes into Ruby’s bag. ‘I’ve put you a few extra spuds in, just for brightening up my day.’

‘Ta, love.’

As Ruby walked off, the stallholder shouted after her, ‘I hope you brighten your husband’s day, too.’

So do I, Ruby thought. Because she needed all the help she could get.

After six weeks of marriage, she had finally decided to tell Nick the truth about the baby.

‘The longer you leave it, the worse it’ll be,’ her mother had warned her that morning when Ruby called in to Griffin Street for a cup of tea. ‘I dunno why you didn’t just tell him straight off, get it over and done with.’

‘I couldn’t.’ The past six weeks had been the happiest of Ruby’s life. She couldn’t bring herself to spoil things.

‘Well, you’ve got yourself in a right old mess now, haven’t you? He’s got eyes in his head, girl. He’s going to wonder why you’re not showing, when you’re meant to be nearly four months gone!’

Ruby put her hand over her stomach, flat under her fitted skirt. ‘He won’t notice.’

‘Nick Riley ain’t a fool. So you’d best not treat him like one if you know what’s good for you.’

‘Bit late for that, ain’t it?’

Ruby had been silly, she knew it. Her mother was right, she should never have put it off. Now she’d made everything ten times worse.

‘He’s going to kill me when he finds out,’ she whispered.

‘He ain’t going to be shouting from the rooftops, that’s for sure.’ Lettie Pike’s thin face took on a rare expression of sympathy. ‘I know it ain’t going to be easy. But you’ll get round him, love. You always do. Look at that washing machine. Only you could pull a trick like that and get away with it!’ She smiled with grudging admiration.

‘This is a kid we’re talking about, not a flaming washing machine!’ Panic washed over Ruby. ‘What if he leaves me, Mum?’

‘He won’t. Not if he knows what’s good for him. You’ve been a smashing wife to him, and you’ve made a lovely home. I daresay he’s got no complaints. Where’s he going to find another girl like you?’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Ruby picked at the chipped remains of her pink nail polish.

‘You get yourself home, make him a nice dinner. Get him in the mood.’ Lettie grinned. ‘He’ll be putty in your hands by the time you’ve finished with him!’

Ruby wished she was as confident as her mother. Underneath the bright and breezy front she put on for the rest of the world, she was quaking with nerves. She had been practising what she was going to say for days, trying to get the words exactly right. But every time she played out the scene in her head it ended in the same way, with Nick walking out on her for ever.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ruby had hoped that by the time she made her confession Nick would be so besotted with her he wouldn’t care that she wasn’t pregnant. But however much she tried to convince herself she had won him over, she knew he didn’t really love her yet. He cared about her, did everything a loving husband should, but she always had the feeling he was making the best of a bad situation. Without the baby, there would be nothing to hold him to her.

She hadn’t banked on how much he was looking forward to being a father, either. He didn’t say much about it, but she could see the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about the baby.

It was strange, she had never imagined Nick Riley with a kid on his knee. And yet it was enough to bring on one of his rare smiles. Sometimes Ruby found herself feeling jealous of a child who didn’t even exist.

Nick had the afternoon off but he was supposed to be going to the gym on his way home from work, so she had plenty of time to prepare. She was in such a daydream as she let herself into the flat, she almost walked straight into the figure standing in the kitchen doorway.

‘Jesus, Nick!’ She dropped her shopping bag and put a hand to her fluttering chest. ‘You scared the life out of me. What are you doing here? I thought you were training?’

‘Sparring partner didn’t turn up.’ Something about the way he stared at her made Ruby uneasy.

‘You spoiled my surprise,’ she said, bending down to pick up the carrots that had rolled over the floor.

‘You like surprises, don’t you?’

She straightened up. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Don’t act innocent with me, Rube. I’ve found out your little secret.’

Blood rushed to her head, and the room started to spin.

He knew
.

‘How did you find out?’ she whispered.

‘I’m not stupid, Ruby. I can see what’s in front of my face.’ His blue eyes blazed with anger. ‘How long did you think you could go on lying to me?’

Her mouth was suddenly so dry she could barely get the words out. ‘I was going to tell you,’ she stammered. ‘It just never seemed to be the right time—’

‘So you thought you’d just go on pretending instead?’

‘I’m sorry, Nick, truly I am.’ She couldn’t bear to see the contempt in his face. ‘I swear, I wanted to tell you. I tried so many times . . .’

‘So why didn’t you?’

‘I don’t know – I was scared, I suppose. I knew you’d leave me . . .’

‘Leave you?’ His frown deepened. ‘Why would I leave you over a few bills?’

It took a moment to register with her what he’d said. ‘Bills?’ she heard herself say faintly.

He nodded. ‘I found them stashed under the bed. Where you’d hidden them,’ he accused.

Ruby leaned against the wall, her legs too weak to hold her up.

He’d found the bills. She’d been so worried about the baby, she hadn’t given them a second thought.

She had kept her promise at first, after he’d paid off what they owed for the washing machine. For a week or two there had been no more debts. But then she got so bored in the flat by herself, she’d taken herself off to look round the furniture shops, just to see what she might be able to buy if she had the money. The sight of all those lovely things was too much for her, and before she knew what she was doing she had signed another loan agreement with Bert Wallis, and taken out credit in the local drapers.