Nightingales at War (27 page)

But at the same time, a small unworthy part of her hoped that Cissy wouldn’t renew her friendship with Jennifer. Because then there might no longer be any room for Eve in her life.

AS SOON AS
Jennifer walked into the dance, she realised she had made a terrible mistake.

It was all too much for her. The bright lights, the loud music, the laughter – after so many weeks hiding away, it was like a horrible dream. The kind of dream where she found herself lost in an unfamiliar place with no clothes on, and everyone was staring at her.

They were staring at her now. Jennifer could feel several pairs of eyes boring into her back as she slunk around the edge of the dance floor to join the row of wallflowers.

She burned with shame. Once upon a time she would have felt nothing but pity for them, sitting there so hopefully, clutching their glasses of punch and waiting for someone to ask them to dance. But now she was the one to be pitied. Even though she kept her gaze fixed on the dance floor, pretending to be absorbed in watching the dancers spinning around in front of her, she could hear the other girls whispering together, glancing her way, then whispering again.

Jennifer put her hand up to her face, an automatic gesture of self-protection. She wished she’d swallowed her pride and asked Cissy to come with her. At least she would have had a friend, someone to talk to. But Jennifer had only made up her mind to come at the last minute, because her mother nagged her into it.

‘You’ll enjoy it,’ she’d kept saying. ‘Go on, you need an excuse to get yourself dressed up.’

So now here she was, in an old dress, wishing she had never listened to her mother. No amount of make-up could cover her scars, and her hair hadn’t grown enough to curl into anything like a nice style.

She heard one of the girls giggling, and something inside Jennifer snapped. She turned on them. ‘Had a good look? Perhaps you’d like to take a picture, so you can show all your friends?’

The girl turned red. ‘We weren’t talking about you.’

‘No, of course you weren’t!’ Jennifer sneered back. ‘You think I can’t hear you, whispering and laughing behind your hands? You’re not exactly an oil painting yourself, you know!’

She looked away in disgust, in time to see Cissy coming into the hall, arm in arm with a pretty girl in a pink dress. Cissy saw her, waved and came over, dragging her friend behind her.

‘Jen! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? We would have waited for you.’

‘I – I didn’t make my mind up until the last minute.’ It was only when the girl in the pink dress drew nearer that Jennifer realised with a shock that it was Eve Ainsley.

But it wasn’t the Eve she remembered. Make-up transformed her ordinary features, widening her grey eyes and giving a glossy pink softness to her mouth, while her light brown curls perfectly framed her face.

And that dress – well, it could have come straight off the catwalk of Elsa Schiaparelli herself, nipping in at her tiny waist then flaring out over her hips, giving the illusion of curves to her skinny shape.

But it wasn’t just the clothes and make-up that were different. Eve seemed to glow, as if lit from within. Jennifer couldn’t stop gawping at her.

Cissy smiled, guessing her thoughts. ‘What do you think?’ she said proudly. ‘She looks all right, doesn’t she?’

Jennifer caught Eve’s shy smile, and felt a painful stab of jealousy. She instantly put her hand up to her own face, feeling the roughness of her scarred skin under her fingers.

‘You look nice, too,’ Eve complimented Jennifer. ‘That dress really suits you.’

She was trying to be kind, Jennifer realised. But the last thing she needed was to be patronised by the likes of Eve Ainsley. Just because she’d had her hair done and was wearing a dress that fitted her for a change, that was no reason for her to get all high and mighty. Underneath those bouncy curls, she was still the same insipid little creature she had always been.

Not that Cissy could see that. She looked completely besotted with her creation.

‘We’re just going to get some punch,’ she said, taking Eve’s arm again. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’

Before Jennifer could reply, Dr Jameson and her old medical student friend Tom Treacher came over to them.

‘Good evening, ladies,’ Simon Jameson greeted them smoothly. ‘My friend and I were wondering if you might dance with us?’

His gaze skimmed over Jennifer, and she was already smiling before she realised he was holding his hand out to Eve and not her.

Jennifer glanced at Tom, but he was looking away as if he didn’t know her. She quickly tried to hide her embarrassment, but Cissy’s sharp eyes must have caught it, because she said, ‘Sorry, we can’t.’

Jennifer interrupted her. ‘You can go and dance, if you like,’ she said. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ll go and get some of that punch.’

Cissy chewed her lip, reluctance written all over her face. ‘You will wait for me, won’t you?’ she said.

‘Of course.’ Jennifer shrugged.

‘Promise?’ Cissy was still watching her friend over her shoulder as Tom Treacher led her on to the dance floor. ‘Promise you’ll wait there till I come back?’

‘I promise,’ Jennifer mouthed back. She kept the smile pinned to her face until they had disappeared among the dancers. Then she hurried away.

Her mother would be furious with her, but Jennifer didn’t care. She had had all the humiliation she could bear for one evening.

Fortunately her mother was out visiting a friend when Jennifer arrived home, but her father was in the kitchen, listening to the nine o’clock news on the wireless. She tried to tiptoe down the hall, but as she reached the foot of the stairs he called out, ‘Is that you, Jen?’

Her heart sank. ‘Yes, Dad.’

She heard the creak of his old armchair as he stood up and came into the hall to greet her. ‘You’re home early, love. Didn’t you enjoy the dance?’

‘Not really.’ She shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’m a bit tired.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you. What happened to the girl who used to come home at dawn on the back of a milk float?’

Jennifer glanced at him in shock. ‘How did you know that?’

‘There’s a lot of things I know, love.’ Alec Caldwell’s eyes twinkled. ‘Like I know it ain’t tiredness that’s brought you home early. Am I right?’

Jennifer caught her father’s kindly gaze and suddenly all the fight flooded out of her. ‘Oh, Dad!’

The next thing she was in his arms and he was comforting her, just like he used to do when she was a little girl and had fallen over and hurt her knee.

‘Come on,’ he said, his arm around her shoulders. ‘Let’s have a cuppa and you can tell me all about it.’

As they sat together in the kitchen, Jennifer told him about the dance, and about how everyone had looked at her. Her father listened sympathetically.

‘Are you sure you ain’t just seeing and hearing what you want to?’ he asked.

‘I don’t want people staring at me, or talking behind my back.’

‘No, but it’s what you expect, so that’s what you think is happening.’ Alec Caldwell regarded her over the rim of his teacup. ‘Either way, the question is what are you going to do about it?’

‘I dunno what you mean.’

‘I mean, are you going to hide away, or are you going to go out there with your head held high?’

‘I know what I’d like to do,’ Jennifer murmured into her cup. ‘I just want to lock myself in my room and stay there.’

‘That doesn’t sound like my Jen.’

‘Yes, well, I’m not your Jen any more, am I?’ she snapped back. ‘The explosion – what happened – it changed me, Dad. You only have to look at me to see that.’

‘I look at you every day,’ her father reminded her. ‘And all I see is my beautiful little girl.’

Jennifer turned her gaze towards the dying fire. Of course, he would say that, wouldn’t he? He was her father, and she would always be beautiful to him.

‘Other people see something different,’ she muttered. ‘They see a monster.’

Her father sighed. ‘That ain’t true, girl, and you know it.’

‘I don’t care anyway. I’m never going to face anyone again.’

‘Oh, yes? And how are you going to manage that, then? You can’t lock yourself away, no matter how much you might feel like it.’

‘Want to bet?’

Her father shook his head. ‘Look, I can’t take away what happened to you, no matter how much I wish I could.’ His face filled with sadness. ‘But I won’t allow you to ruin your life over it.’

‘My life’s already ruined.’

‘No, it ain’t. Not if you don’t let it be.’

‘So what am I supposed to do?’ Jennifer asked.

‘You’ve got to get out there and face the world.’

‘I tried that, remember?’

‘I don’t mean going out tonight,’ her father dismissed. ‘I mean getting yourself back in the land of the living. Going back to work would be a start—’

‘Oh, no.’ Jennifer was shaking her head before he’d reached the end of his sentence. ‘You’ve been talking to Mum, ain’t you? I bet she’s put you up to this. But I ain’t going back to the Nightingale, Dad. I can’t do that.’

‘You’ve got to do something, love.’

‘Then I’ll find a job somewhere else. In a factory, or an office or something. There’s plenty of other war work I could do. Just don’t ask me to go back to that hospital, please!’

But for once her father stood firm. ‘Until you’re twenty-one, you’ll do as you’re told, my girl,’ he said. ‘And I’m telling you, the best thing you can do now is put that uniform on and get back to that hospital!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Eve said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Dr Jameson smiled down at her. ‘Stop apologising,’ he said. But Eve could see the pained look that flashed across his face every time she trod on his feet. He was such a good dancer, he must despair of her, tripping over her own feet and stamping on his toes. He was probably wishing he’d asked Jennifer to dance instead of her, she thought.

She tried to remember to do what Cissy had told her, and smile up into his eyes while they were dancing, but embarrassment stopped her from lifting her gaze past his bow tie. She only hoped he couldn’t feel how clammy her hands were.

The tune ended and another began. Eve started to move away, grateful to escape, but to her astonishment Dr Jameson held on to her hand.

‘Can’t we have another dance?’ he pleaded.

‘Are you sure?’ She eyed him uncertainly, not sure if he was making fun of her. ‘I’m not a very good dancer,’ she pointed out, as if he hadn’t noticed that by now.

‘You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.’

Eve glanced at Cissy, already making her way off the dance floor.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I need to see my friend.’

‘The next dance, then?’

‘If you like.’ He probably would have found himself another partner by then, she decided.

Eve caught up with Cissy by the punch bowl. ‘I can’t see Jen anywhere, can you?’ Cissy said, looking around. ‘I hope she hasn’t gone home.’

A thin thread of jealousy snaked its way into Eve’s heart. She wanted to tell Cissy all about her dance with Dr Jameson, to share the exciting details with her and hear her opinion. But Cissy seemed more preoccupied with Jennifer.

‘I shouldn’t have abandoned her like that,’ she said. ‘She was bound to be a bit nervous about coming here on her own.’

‘Probably better for her to go home, in that case.’

Eve knew she’d said the wrong thing when she saw Cissy’s frown. But then she sighed, and said, ‘I suppose you’re right. I’ll go and see her tomorrow, make sure she’s all right.’

The music changed, and suddenly Dr Jameson reappeared at Eve’s side, claiming her for another dance. She was going to refuse him again, but Cissy nodded her encouragement.

‘Go on,’ she whispered. ‘This is your big chance.’

Eve tried to smile as she followed him on to the dance floor. Cissy was right, she told herself. This was her big chance.

This was the night the ugly duckling turned into a swan, and she had to make the most of every minute.

IT HAD TAKEN
some effort to organise the dance, but it was worth it.

Kathleen gazed around the room with satisfaction. With the threat of air raids still present, the disused ward on the top floor was considered unsafe for patients, but it made a splendid place for a dance, transformed with tinsel and garlands. Mr Hopkins had even performed a Christmas miracle and found a small tree, which they’d decorated with a star on top.

Everyone was there, from student nurses to sisters, housemen to consultants. They had all made an effort and dressed up for the occasion, as if determined to forget the hardships and troubles of the past year and simply enjoy themselves.

Even Miss Hanley was there, looking stately in dark green brocade, keeping vigil by the punch bowl to make sure none of the medical students got any ideas about adding their own ingredients.

‘I suppose this means we won’t be getting a cascara cocktail this year?’

Kathleen turned round to see Mr Cooper standing behind her, looking smart in his evening suit.

‘Not if Miss Hanley has anything to do with it,’ she said.

‘She’s no fun.’ His mouth quirked.

‘Fun? Have you forgotten the year someone laced it with antimony and half the ward sisters ended up in the sick bay?’

He pulled a face. ‘That was fairly ghastly, wasn’t it?’

‘Ghastly isn’t the word.’

‘So what do you say?’ he asked. ‘Shall we live dangerously, and risk a glass?’

‘Why not?’ She smiled back. ‘Although I feel quite confident with Miss Hanley as guardian,’ she added.

‘Oh, me too.’

She watched him as he made his way to the punch bowl. James Cooper was a handsome man, but his evening suit gave him the look of a matinee idol. Some of the young nurses were sending him longing looks as they sat in a row around the dance floor, she noticed.

He returned and handed her a glass of dubious pink liquid. ‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘And may I say how beautiful you’re looking this evening?’

Kathleen looked down at her dress. The dark blue velvet was more serviceable than glamorous. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘One has so few opportunities to dress up these days.’

‘Unless one’s idea of dressing up is a siren suit and tin hat.’ He raised his brows at her over the rim of his glass.

‘True.’ Kathleen looked around the crowd. ‘Is your wife not with you this evening?’

His smile slipped a fraction. ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m afraid Simone dislikes hospital parties.’

‘I suppose they must be rather dull if you don’t know anyone?’

‘Quite.’ He downed some of the punch, then winced.

Kathleen looked at him apprehensively. ‘Oh, dear, don’t tell me they’ve managed to put alcohol in it, after all?’

‘No,’ he said, ‘just the opposite, in fact. It might be improved if they had.’ He leaned in towards her and said, ‘Fortunately I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a flask of medicinal brandy with me, if you’re interested?’

Kathleen laughed, shocked. ‘Mr Cooper! I’m surprised at you.’

‘Do you want some, or don’t you?’

Kathleen sipped the sugary pink punch. It was rather unpalatable. ‘I’m supposed to be setting a good example to the nurses,’ she said.

‘Then we’ll have to be discreet, won’t we?’ He laid his hand on her arm and guided her to the back of the room, as far from Miss Hanley as they could manage.

‘I bet you were a holy terror when you were a student!’ Kathleen said, as he topped up her glass from the small leather hip flask.

He smiled roguishly. ‘I had my moments.’ He raised his glass to her. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’ Their eyes met and held for a moment. In the background, the band struck up a lively tune.

‘Do you remember that day we redecorated the ward?’ he asked suddenly.

Kathleen nodded. ‘How could I forget? It was a very rash decision of mine.’

‘It was a very brave decision,’ he corrected her. ‘It was also one of the happiest days of my life.’

He looked so wistful when he said it, Kathleen wondered if she’d heard him correctly.

‘This tune was playing then as I recall.’ He paused for a moment, his head cocked, listening.

“‘The Lambeth Walk”,’ Kathleen nodded. ‘Everyone was dancing to it.’

‘Do you want to dance now?’

His question took her by surprise. She glanced around at the couples who had already taken to the floor. ‘I’m not sure if that’s appropriate.’

‘Why not?’

Without knowing why, she looked towards Miss Hanley, still keeping her fearsome watch over the punch bowl.

‘May I remind you, Miss Fox, that you are Matron of this hospital, not Miss Hanley?’ James Cooper said softly.

‘All the more reason why I shouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of the junior staff.’ She looked longingly towards the dance floor, terribly tempted. She had always loved dancing when she was young. ‘Besides, it’s such a long time since I danced, I’m not sure I’d even remember how,’ she said ruefully.

‘Then allow me to show you.’ He took the glass out of her hand and guided her towards the dance floor. ‘It’s like riding a bicycle,’ he promised. ‘You never forget how to do it.’

Fortunately, by the time they’d taken to the floor, the music had changed to a sedate foxtrot. Kathleen was grateful for the change of pace. She wasn’t sure she would be able to keep up with the lively to and fro of ‘The Lambeth Walk’, let alone master all the steps.

‘This is much more to my taste,’ she said.

‘Mine too.’ He pulled her gently into his arms.

He seemed to hold her closer than he should, so close she could breathe in the scent of his expensive cologne. Kathleen hardly dared tilt her head, knowing that if she did she would be gazing straight into his eyes, her face only inches from his. But at the same time, she felt the pull of his gaze until she couldn’t look away any longer . . .

And then the siren sounded, drowning out the music, and every muscle in Kathleen’s body tensed.

Not again, she thought. Please God, not tonight. Let us have one night of joy, at least . . .

The double doors flew open and two of the medical students burst in, their faces alight with excitement.

‘They’ve got St Paul’s!’ one of them exclaimed. ‘The whole city’s alight!’

Everyone ran to see what was going on, donning their tin hats and climbing the metal staircase to the roof for a better view. Only Kathleen and James stayed behind, holding back as the tide of people rushed past them.

‘Aren’t you going up to look?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could bear it. I’ve seen enough destruction over the past few months to last me a lifetime.’

‘I know what you mean.’ He took out his hip flask and passed it to her again. ‘I hope to God they haven’t really got St Paul’s,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know why, but it would just feel like the end.’

Kathleen nodded in mute understanding. As the Blitz had raged around them, wreaking destruction day and night for weeks, the cathedral had remained untouched, a proud and defiant symbol of the city’s enduring heart. If that heart were destroyed, then perhaps the heart would go out of the people, too.

‘I thought it had stopped,’ she whispered. ‘I really thought they’d leave us alone now.’ For the first time in months she had allowed herself the faintest hope. The Luftwaffe had turned its attention to other cities, and much as Kathleen pitied them, at the same time she couldn’t help feeling a kind of relief. They had started to emerge from their basements, to feel the cold December air on their faces.

‘Perhaps it’s just for tonight?’ James suggested.

‘It won’t be. This is the beginning of another assault. We didn’t cave in last time, so he’s trying again. And this time it will be even worse.’ Her voice hitched, betraying her despair.

‘It’ll be all right,’ James soothed. ‘We’ll get through it.’

‘I don’t think I can bear it, not again. I’m not brave enough . . .’

‘You’re braver than you think.’ He reached out and took her hand, a brief squeeze of reassurance which imperceptibly took on a new meaning when his fingers slowly curled around hers, his thumb tracing her knuckles with a delicate touch that made her catch her breath. Kathleen froze, not daring to breathe. She knew she should pull away, but after standing alone for so long, it felt too good to have someone to hold on to. If she didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge what was happening, perhaps the moment would never end.

And then, suddenly, it did.

They sprang apart like guilty children as the ward doors flew open and Miss Hanley appeared.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, Matron . . . Mr Cooper . . . but I’m afraid we have an emergency.’