The Nightingale Nurses (30 page)

Sister Judd nodded to her when she came in, but made no comment. Even Staff Nurse Strickland made no attempt to stop her any more. They had both accepted that Helen would come whether they liked it or not, and decided to put her to good use instead. While she was there watching over Charlie, it meant the other nurses on the ward had one less task to perform.

The screens were pulled around his bed. Helen’s heart lurched with fear until she saw Millie emerging, pushing a trolley laden with a bowl, soap, flannels and towels.

She smiled when she saw Helen. ‘Oh, hello. You’re early.’

‘I came as soon as I could.’ She nodded towards the curtains. ‘How is he?’

‘I’ve just finished giving him a wash and brush up, so he’s looking very respectable.’

Helen eyed her friend narrowly. ‘And how is his illness? I noticed he was due to have a blood test this morning. Have the results come back yet?’

‘You know you’re not supposed to ask questions like that.’ Millie’s laugh was shrill with tension. ‘And you’re not to go snooping at his chart, either. Sister Judd will be furious if she catches you.’

‘Is that you, Helen?’ Charlie’s voice came from the other side of the screen.

‘Just a minute.’ Helen turned back to Millie. ‘How is he, really? What did the consultant say? Are they going to try serum treatment?’

‘I don’t know, do I? No one tells us students anything.’

‘Benedict –’

‘Is that Strickland calling me? I have to go.’ Millie charged off down the ward, pushing the trolley ahead of her.

‘Benedict was in rather a hurry,’ Helen commented, as she slipped through the screens to Charlie.

‘She’s probably just busy.’

‘Hmm.’ Helen wasn’t so sure. Millie had looked almost guilty as she darted away.

‘Are you sure you haven’t upset her?’ she teased.

‘No more than usual.’ Charlie’s smile was strained. He lay against the pillows, his face flushed against the snowy whiteness of the linen.

Automatically, Helen reached for the chart on the end of his bed. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

‘Do you have to?’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘I have enough people coming in here, staring at that chart. I’m not your patient, Helen.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ She replaced the chart and went to sit beside him. ‘How are you, Charlie?’

‘Better than you, I reckon.’ He turned his face to look at her. ‘When was the last time you got some sleep?’

‘I’m on night duty. It’s always hard to sleep on nights.’

‘I bet you’re not eating, either.’

She laughed. ‘It’s me who should be worrying about you, remember?’ She searched in her bag. ‘I’ve brought the
East London Observer
with me, I thought I could read it to you. I know you like the speedway results.’ She pulled out the newspaper. ‘There was racing on in the Harringay last night, so perhaps there’ll be a report in here somewhere . . .’

‘I mean it, Helen. You shouldn’t spend so much time with me. You need to keep up with your studies.’

She laughed, still flicking through the newspaper, looking for the sports pages. ‘Now you sound like my mother!’

Charlie put out his hand, his fingers closing round hers. It upset her to feel how little strength he had in his grasp. ‘For God’s sake, will you stop doing that and listen to me? I’m trying to tell you—’

She let the newspaper drop into her lap. She had never heard him speak to her so sharply before, and it made her nervous. ‘What, Charlie?’

He was silent for a moment. Now he had her attention, he didn’t seem to know what to say next. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, ‘I’ve been thinking about it, and – I don’t want you to come and see me any more.’

‘Charlie!’

‘I mean it, Helen. I don’t think it’s doing either of us any good, you being here all the time.’ He turned his face away from hers.

‘But I want to be here.’

‘Well, I don’t want you here!’

She stared at him, stunned. ‘You don’t mean that?’

‘Yes, I do.’ His hand slipped away from hers. ‘Your mum’s right. We don’t belong together, we never have. It would be better for both of us if we parted.’

His face was still turned away from hers, so she couldn’t see his eyes. This wasn’t Charlie speaking, she thought. It couldn’t be. ‘Stop it, Charlie,’ she pleaded. ‘If this is your idea of a joke, then it’s not very funny . . .’

‘I’m not joking,’ he said firmly. ‘I want you to go, and don’t come back.’

Outside the screens she could hear the sounds of ward life going on: the rattle of a trolley being pushed past the curtains, the sound of footsteps, of muted voices, people going about their business, oblivious to the fact that her world was collapsing.

And yet she still couldn’t believe it. It all seemed too unreal.

‘All right,’ she said, fighting to stop the tremor in her voice. ‘I’ll go, if that’s what you want. But first you have to tell me to my face.’

‘Helen—’

‘I’m serious, Charlie. If you’re going to break my heart then the least you can do is look me in the eye while you do it.’

He didn’t move. ‘Just go,’ he said wearily. ‘Please.’

Helen stared at his stubborn profile. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re doing this,’ she said. ‘You can’t lie to me, Charlie Dawson, I know you too well. That’s why you can’t look at me, isn’t it? Because you’re afraid I’ll see the truth.’

‘You want the truth?’ Slowly, he rolled his head to face her, and she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. ‘I’m dying, Helen.’

It was as if she had been plunged head-first into icy water. She gasped, desperately fighting for control. ‘No, you’re not!’

His mouth lifted at one corner. ‘You know as well as I do, Helen Tremayne. I’m not getting any better, and I don’t think I will.’

‘But—’ She stopped short. He was right. She had seen the figures on his chart, seen him struggling more every day, even though she had done her best to block the knowledge out. He wasn’t responding to any treatment, and his limbs had started to swell as his kidneys failed to do their job. She didn’t want to think about what would happen next, although she’d read it in her textbook many times. ‘There’s still hope,’ she whispered. ‘There are so many different treatments the doctors can try. And sometimes infections like yours just get better by themselves—’

‘But more often than not they don’t.’ He managed a wry smile. ‘Look, I might not have your education, Helen, but I’m no fool. I know what’s happening to me, and I don’t want you to have to go through that. I don’t want you to watch me die.’

‘I told you, you’re not going to die.’

A single tear rolled down Charlie’s cheek and soaked into the pillow. ‘Please, Helen,’ he begged. ‘Don’t make this any harder for me than it already is. It’s taking everything I’ve got to say this. But I’ve got to do what’s right.’

‘How is it right to send me away when all I want to do is be with you?’

‘What else can I do?’

‘Marry me,’ she blurted out. The words were spoken before she’d had time to think about them. But once she’d said it, she realised it was what she wanted.

‘You what?’ Charlie tried to lift his head from the pillow, his eyes wide with astonishment.

‘Marry me. It’s the right thing to do, Charlie,’ she urged. ‘I don’t want us to be apart. Whatever happens, I want us to face it together.’

His blue gaze fixed on hers for a moment, then he shook his head. ‘We can’t.’

‘We can. I’m not talking about a big church do or anything like that. We could even get a minister to marry us here, at your bedside—’

‘I’m not talking about the wedding. I’m not going to marry you so I can leave you a widow.’

‘That won’t happen,’ Helen said firmly. ‘And even if it does,’ she added, as he opened his mouth to argue, ‘it’s still what I want. I want to be with you, Charlie. For better or for worse.’

‘In sickness and in health?’ he said weakly.

She nodded. ‘In sickness and in health.’

He looked at her for a long time. ‘You do realise that even if I manage to survive this illness, your mother will kill me?’

Helen smiled. ‘Is that a yes?’

He shook his head wonderingly. ‘I never realised you could be so forceful, Helen Tremayne.’

‘I am when I want something.’

‘We don’t even have a ring.’

‘Wait there.’ She slipped out through the screens and looked around the ward.

‘Lost something, Miss?’ The patient in the next bed, Mr Tucker, looked up from his newspaper.

‘I won’t know until I find it . . .’ Helen caught sight of the ashtray beside his bed. ‘Do you smoke, by any chance?’

Mr Tucker grinned guiltily. ‘Only when Sister ain’t looking! Why? Do you want one?’

‘No, but I’d like to borrow your cigarette packet, if you don’t mind?’

He reached into his locker and pulled out a packet of Kensitas. ‘Here you are, love, help yourself. But don’t let Sister catch you or she’ll have your guts for garters!’ He grinned.

‘Thanks.’ Helen opened the packet and tore out a strip of the silver paper, then handed it back. Mr Tucker watched her with interest.

‘And what are you planning to do with that, then?’

Helen gave him a mischievous smile. ‘You’ll find out.’

Charlie turned to look at her as she slipped back inside the screens. ‘You look pleased with yourself.’

‘I’ve got my ring, look!’ She twisted the silver paper around her finger and held it up to show him.

Charlie looked at it, then back at her. ‘It ain’t much, is it?’

‘It’s all I need.’ She pulled it off and handed it to him. ‘But you’ve got to do it properly.’

He gave a dry laugh. ‘There ain’t nothing proper about this.’

‘I don’t care,’ Helen declared. ‘You’ve still got to ask me.’

‘Helen—’

‘Ask me. Please?’

He sighed and took the silver-paper ring from her. ‘I can’t get down on one knee.’

‘That’s all right. I’ll just pretend.’

He paused. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, unless you think you can get out of bed?’

‘I meant about the proposal. Are you sure you want to marry me?’

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’

‘Very well, then,’ he sighed. ‘Helen Tremayne, will you marry me?’

‘Yes, please!’ She realised her hand was trembling as she held it out for Charlie to slip the ring on to her finger.

It was nowhere near as fancy as Millie’s vintage emeralds, or Brenda Bevan’s solitaire. But she still felt like the proudest, luckiest girl in the world as she held up her makeshift silver-paper band to the light.

‘Just think,’ she said. ‘I’m going to be Mrs Charlie Dawson.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘You do realise we might not get as far as the wedding?’

Helen gave him a knowing look. ‘Oh, yes, we will,’ she said. ‘You’ve made me a promise, and I’m not letting you go that easily!’

IT WAS A
relief to see Esther Gold sitting up in bed, looking so well again.

‘I bet I look a fright, don’t I?’ she said to Dora. ‘I haven’t dared look at myself in a mirror yet.’

‘You look lovely,’ Dora reassured her. She looked a lot better than she had done a couple of weeks earlier, anyway. The bruises and swelling on her face had gone from ugly black and purple to a faded yellow, although the livid scar that ran down her cheek was a reminder of the ordeal she had suffered.

Esther gave a wry smile. ‘I don’t know about that. No one has ever said I looked lovely, even before all this. But I’m alive, and that’s all that matters.’

‘And you’re doing very well, so the doctor says. He’s ever so pleased with you,’ Dora said. ‘Your vision, hearing and speech are all normal, and you’ve recovered your memory, too.’

‘I have, haven’t I?’ A shadow passed over her face, like a cloud over the sun. ‘Although I’ve got to admit, there are some things I’d rather forget.’

Dora squeezed her hand in sympathy. The scars on Esther’s face and body might be healing, but she knew there were other scars, ones that couldn’t be seen, that the doctor could do nothing to heal. According to the night nurse’s report, Esther often woke up screaming and had to be calmed down.

‘I’ll tell you something I haven’t forgotten,’ Esther said. ‘To thank you for saving my life.’

Dora blushed. ‘I didn’t.’

‘That’s not what I heard. You were a heroine, Dora. If you hadn’t found me that night and frightened off those men, I don’t know what would have happened to me.’

‘I’m just glad I was passing.’

‘There are a lot who would have passed straight by and not got involved,’ Esther said grimly. Then she added, ‘The police came round to see me again this morning. Wanted to know all the details about what happened that night.’

Dora’s throat went dry. ‘And what did you tell them?

‘I told them I couldn’t remember anything.’

She frowned. ‘Are you sure? The doctors said there’s nothing wrong with your memory . . .’

Esther’s expression was firm. ‘All the same, it was dark and I couldn’t make out any of their faces.’

Dora hesitated. She wanted to protect her family, but she couldn’t lie to Esther. Not if it meant her attackers went unpunished.

She took a deep breath. ‘Miss Gold, there’s something I’ve to tell you. It’s about my brother Peter—’

‘Anyway,’ Esther cut her off, ‘I just want to put it all behind me, forget about it. God works in mysterious ways, and I just pray that the people who did this will feel some remorse for what they did, and change their ways.’

A look passed between them, and Dora suddenly understood.

She nodded. ‘I hope so too,’ she said. ‘Thank you,’ she added quietly.

‘No need to thank me,
bubele
. Just make sure something good comes of this, eh?’

‘I will,’ she promised.

Esther’s gaze drifted to the enormous vase of flowers on her locker. No prizes for guessing who they were from, Dora thought.

‘I notice Dr Adler has been in to see you again?’

A faint girlish blush rose in Esther’s cheeks. ‘He’s been very kind,’ she said. ‘And it’s such a relief that he’s been staying with my father too, to make sure he’s all right. That’s been a real weight off my mind, I can tell you.’

‘Dr Adler must be keen.’