The Nightingale Nurses (9 page)

He stared down at the coin nestling in his giant paw. ‘I – I truly don’t know what to say, Nurse.’

Dora smiled as she watched him shambling out through the double doors. She felt very pleased with herself for her good deed, not to mention for averting another drama with Sister Percival.

No sooner had he shambled off across the courtyard than Penny Willard arrived.

‘Oh, my, is that the time?’ She made a big pretence of looking at the clock above the booking-in counter. ‘My alarm clock must be slow.’

Dora sent her a sceptical look as she wrote that day’s date on a fresh page in the booking-in ledger. ‘It’s a good thing Percival’s not coming in until late this morning.’

‘Isn’t she? I’d forgotten all about that.’ Penny didn’t meet her eye as she pulled her copy of the
Daily Express
from under her cloak. She sat behind the desk, calmly flicking through the newspaper.

Dora stared at her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I have to read my stars every morning before I can start my day.’

‘What about the patients?’

Penny’s heavy-lidded gaze moved slowly across the empty waiting room. ‘I don’t think we’ll be overwhelmed by the rush, do you?’

‘If we don’t have any patients in Casualty we could always make a start on today’s Outpatients list?’

Penny gave her a lazy smile. ‘Do calm down, Doyle. We might as well make the most of it, since Percy’s not here to crack the whip.’

She consulted her horoscope and then insisted on consulting Dora’s, too. A couple of patients arrived, but Penny took their names and sent them off to wait on the benches until she was ready to receive them.

‘You’re going to have an unexpected encounter today. Ooh, that sounds interesting, doesn’t it?’ Penny read out.

‘Not really,’ Dora replied. ‘Every day’s an unexpected encounter in this place. You never know what you’re going to see.’

As if to prove her point, the double doors suddenly flew open and a young policeman came through them, hauling a man with him. From the firm grip he had on the man’s arm, it was hard to tell if the policeman was holding him up or stopping him from escaping.

Penny Willard sat up straighter behind the counter and pulled a strand of blonde hair from her cap. ‘Hello, who’s this? He looks rather nice.’

Dora recognised the policeman immediately. She watched as he strode up to the desk, dragging the man behind him.

‘We arrested this one trying to break into a warehouse this morning,’ he said. ‘Funny thing is, as soon as we got him to the station he started complaining of a bellyache.’

‘I’ve got appendicitis, I know I have.’ The man tried to wriggle free from the policeman’s grasp, but he held on grimly.

‘You’ll have a broken arm, too, if you don’t pack it in.’ The policeman looked up and noticed her. ‘Dora?’

‘Hello, Joe.’

‘I didn’t know you were working in Casualty?’

‘I started a couple of weeks ago.’

Penny looked from one to the other. ‘Do you two know each other?’

‘I should say.’ Joe gave Dora a warm smile. ‘Dora and me are courting. Ain’t that right?’

‘I—’ She was aware of Penny’s interested look. But before she could say any more, Sister Percival arrived and threw herself into the middle of the situation like a fizzing ball of perpetual motion.

‘You two. What are you doing?’ The words came out short and sharp, too fast for Dora and Penny to defend themselves. ‘I hope you’re not flirting when there are patients waiting? I know what you young nurses are like. Man mad, the lot of you.’ Her eyes darted to Joe and the man. ‘Can I help you?’

‘PC Armstrong has brought in a prisoner, complaining of abdominal pains.’ Dora stepped in quickly while Penny was still trying to slide her copy of the
Daily Express
under the counter.

‘Then you’d better get him attended to, hadn’t you?’ Sister Percival replied sharply. ‘Take him to Consulting Room Three at once, and inform Dr McKay. Not you,’ she added, as Joe went to follow them. ‘Patients and medical staff only in the consulting rooms.’

‘But he’s under arrest . . .’

‘I said, patients and medical staff only.’ Sister Percival drew herself up to her full height, which barely reached Joe’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Constable, we’ll make sure he doesn’t escape through a window.’

Dr McKay took a long time examining the man, palpating his stomach, listening to his heart and asking all kinds of questions.

‘I’m sorry, young man, but I’m afraid I can’t find anything wrong with you,’ he said finally. ‘But that doesn’t mean you’re not ill,’ he went on, as the man’s face fell. ‘We should probably admit you to the ward for further tests.’ He turned to Dora. ‘Arrange for this patient to be transferred up to Judd, would you?’ He looked at the man, who was fighting to keep the grin off his face. ‘I hope that’s all right with you, Mr Treddle?’

‘Fine by me, ta, Doctor. I reckon I can put off going to jug for a few days!’

When Dora returned to the waiting room, Joe Armstrong was standing at the counter talking to Penny Willard. Dora heard her laughter carrying down the corridor.

He saw Dora and headed towards her.

‘Where is he?’

‘Dr McKay wants to admit him for tests.’

Joe’s face fell. ‘You’re having a laugh, ain’t you? There’s nothing wrong with him.’

‘We don’t know that until we’ve done the tests.’

He sighed. ‘My sergeant won’t be happy about this.’

‘Then he’d better have a word with Dr McKay.’ Dora went to the counter and picked up the next patient’s notes. Joe followed her.

‘Can I talk to you?’ he asked.

‘Sorry, I’m working.’

Just her luck, Sister Percival appeared at that moment. ‘I want you to go for first lunch, Doyle,’ she said.

She was aware of Joe standing beside her, listening. ‘Do you mean now, Sister?’

Sister Percival consulted her watch. ‘Unless someone has rearranged the timetable in the dining room without informing me,’ she said. ‘Go along, Nurse. And I want you back here not a moment later than half-past ten.’

Joe trailed after Dora and out into the courtyard. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages,’ he said.

‘I haven’t had much time off lately.’

‘I’ve phoned that nurses’ home of yours so often, I reckon that old dragon of a Sister must be sick of me!’ He reached for her hand, but Dora pulled away.

‘Matron’s office is right over there,’ she hissed. ‘Do you want to get me the sack?’

‘But I’ve missed you.’

She turned her head to look at him properly for the first time. She could understand why Penny Willard had been flirting with him outrageously. Joe Armstrong looked so handsome in his policeman’s uniform. He had tucked his helmet under his arm and his fair hair glinted in the spring sunshine.

He was everything she could have wanted in a boyfriend. And yet . . .

And yet he wasn’t Nick Riley. She was angry with herself for even thinking it, but it was the truth.

They had been out together on a couple of occasions over the past few weeks, and in that time Dora had desperately tried to make herself love Joe. She’d hoped that if she spent enough time with him then sooner or later something would click. But it hadn’t happened, and she had begun to give up hope that it ever would.

‘So when am I going to see you again?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure when I’ll get my next night off.’

‘You must have some idea, surely?’

Dora took a deep breath. She was going to tell him that she thought it might be better if they didn’t see each other any more, but his green eyes were so full of appeal she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘Next Thursday,’ she said. ‘If I can get the time off.’

He grinned. ‘That’s my girl! I’ll take you dancing.’

‘Do we have to?’ Dora pleaded. ‘I don’t really feel like dancing after fourteen hours on my feet!’

‘The pictures, then. I’ll even let you sit in the back row with me, if you’re good.’

Before she could stop him, he swooped down and gave her a long, hard kiss on the lips.

‘Joe!’ She pushed him off. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.’

‘Did you have to do it here? Heaven knows who could be watching . . .’

She glanced around nervously – and spotted Nick, smoking outside the Porters’ Lodge. Dora wasn’t even sure he’d seen them, but still felt as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

‘You’d better go,’ she said, giving Joe a little shove in the direction of the gates.

‘I’ll see you next Thursday.’

‘If I can get the time off,’ she reminded him.

‘You’d better!’ He grinned.

Penny Willard was waiting for Dora when she returned from lunch. ‘I suppose that was your unexpected encounter, like it said in your stars,’ she said. ‘You kept
him
quiet. Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?’

Dora shrugged. ‘We’ve only been out a few times.’

‘All the same, I’d hold on to him if I were you. He seems really nice. And you can tell he’s keen on you.’

‘Yes,’ Dora sighed, her gaze drifting towards the double doors. ‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’

That was the problem. She didn’t want to lead Joe on and hurt him. But he was so persistent, it was hard to say no.

Perhaps she wouldn’t want to say no after next week, she told herself bracingly. One more date, and she would know whether or not to end it.

Sister Percival appeared again, springing up out of nowhere like a jack-in-the-box, as usual.

‘There you are,’ she said. ‘Dr Adler wants you to help him with a poisoning in Consulting Room Two.’

‘Dr Adler?’ Dora frowned.

‘Yes. He’s back, didn’t anyone tell you? He arrived from Switzerland early this morning. Poor man, I expect he’s utterly exhausted. But he’s so dedicated, he came straight back to work.’ She beamed her approval of Dr Adler’s selflessness.

At last I get to meet him, Dora thought, as she made her way down the corridor. She had heard so much about the famous and brilliant Jonathan Adler, she wondered if the reality could ever match up.

But then she pushed open the door to the consulting room and realised they had already met, as she found herself staring at a young man bent double, retching into a bowl – and the man she had thrown out of the department first thing that morning.

He had swapped his shabby black coat for a white one, but she would have known him anywhere.

‘Ah, Nurse Doyle.’ Dr Adler’s face was impassive under his shaggy mane of dark curls. ‘Mr Creasey here thinks he may have accidentally ingested some rat poison. Let’s see if we can’t wash him out, shall we?’

SHOREDITCH WORKING MEN’S
Club was packed for the Thursday night fight. A pall of cigarette smoke mingled with the smell of sweat and stale beer. Men gathered around the ring, pints in their hands, jeering and yelling encouragement.

‘Come on, Nicky boy! Give him your right!’

‘Stop dancing about, this ain’t the bloody Royal Ballet!’

Nick was barely aware of the sea of faces around him, all his attention fixed on his opponent. Little Billy Brown barely came up to his chin, but he was strong, stocky and as tough as teak. Nick had had him on the ropes several times but he kept coming back for more. He’d landed a few good blows, too: Nick could feel the drip of blood down his temple from where Little Billy had caught him on the brow, but his body was too tense to feel pain. That would come later, when the fight was over.

Little Billy grinned at him, his teeth red from a split lip. ‘Show us what you’ve got, big lad,’ he taunted.

Nick kept his focus, shutting out the banter. Billy was trying to rile him, but Nick had the measure of his opponent now. Little Billy might be tough, but he didn’t have a payoff punch.

‘Don’t let him get too close,’ Nick’s trainer Jimmy had warned after the fourth round. ‘See those short arms of his? He has to move in to drive the blows home. Once he gets in, he’s dangerous.’

Little Billy was tiring, too. He was in his late-thirties, he’d been in the game since he was Nick’s age, and all those years were beginning to tell on his stamina. That bloodied grin of his was all show. He could barely keep up as Nick sidestepped around him, drawing him in circles, playing a cat-and-mouse game.

Nick respected Little Billy too much to want to humiliate him, and he needed to put on a good show for the crowd. But it was getting late, he’d been working hard today, and all he wanted to do was go home and get some kip.

He timed it to the second. He lowered his guard for a moment, tempting Little Billy in. A wiser fighter might not have taken the bait, but Billy was greedy. As he moved in closer, Nick was ready for him. With deadly accuracy, he drove an uppercut to the other man’s chin that lifted him off the ground and sent him flying across the ring.

The referee stood over him, counting him out, but Nick knew it was all over. Little Billy made no attempt to haul himself off the canvas as the crowd roared.

Afterwards the two fighters made their way down the narrow, darkened passageway that led to the boxers’ changing room. Jimmy, Nick’s trainer, followed them.

‘Good fight tonight,’ Billy said, voice muffled by his swollen mouth. ‘You did well, mate.’

‘You too. Sorry about that last jab.’

‘I asked for it. Got a bit greedy, didn’t I?’ Billy ruefully nursed his jaw. ‘Still, it was a fair fight.’

‘I just hope Terry pays up.’ Terry Willis, the local promoter, had been known to sneak off without paying his fighters in the past.

‘I don’t think he’d dare pull a fast one on you!’ Billy grinned.

The door to the changing room was stuck as usual. Nick put his shoulder against it and gave it a shove. Inside the poky back room, the bare lightbulb cast a sickly light on paintwork yellowed with nicotine. Crates of empty ale bottles took up most of the room, filling the air with a stale beer smell.

Joe Armstrong was perched on one of the crates, his kit bag at his feet. He jumped up when the door opened, then sat back down.

‘What you doing here?’ Little Billy asked.

‘I’m waiting to see Terry.’

‘Don’t reckon he’ll want to see you, after what you did to Johnny Jago.’