The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,104
certain she was going to die. The maid’s voice outside their door summoning them awake sounded like an unearthly clamour.
‘I truly don’t feel at all well,’ she told Dora, pulling the thin covers around her, her teeth chattering. ‘Do you think I should go to the sick bay? I think I might have a virus, and I don’t want to pass it on to the patients.’
‘I don’t think what you’ve got is contagious.’ Dora smiled knowingly as she adjusted her woollen stocking to hide a hole. ‘If you ask me, I reckon you had too much to drink last night.’
‘Surely not!’ Millie sat up sharply and wished she hadn’t, as the world lurched sickeningly around her. ‘I only had – oh, heavens.’ She’d lost count after the third port and lemon, but she had the awful feeling there had been many more.
Dora laughed. ‘You came crashing in here, fell over the rug and passed out face down on your bed. I had to get you undressed.’
Millie clutched her head and stared at the heap of discarded clothes that lay crumpled on the floor as the previous night’s events came back to her in sickening waves. Had she really climbed in through a window in Female Chronics? Worse still, had she really asked – no, practically begged – William Tremayne to kiss her?
Hot shame washed over her. She wasn’t sure which was worse, her asking or him refusing.
Dora noticed her look of dismay. ‘What happened last night?’ she asked.
Millie couldn’t meet her eye. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Dr Tremayne didn’t try anything with you, did he? Only I’ve heard about his reputation with the nurses. I wasn’t sure if I did the right thing, leaving you alone with him . . .’
‘Dr Tremayne was a perfect gentleman.’ Millie blushed, thinking of the bold way she’d turned her face towards his, ready for a kiss.
‘How odd. From what I’ve heard, he never usually misses a chance to get fresh.’ Dora shrugged. ‘Anyway, you’d better hurry up and get dressed before Sister Sutton comes in. This room smells like a brewery.’ She sat down on the bed to pull on her shoes.
‘I can’t.’ Millie fell back groaning against the unyielding pillows. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t ever face the world again.’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘But I did something terrible. Tremayne is going to hate me.’
‘Why? What on earth did you do?’
Millie told her about breaking into the ward. For some reason Dora seemed to find the idea of her getting stuck under a patient’s bed hilarious.
‘You’re a caution, d’you know that?’ she laughed, wiping away a tear.
‘It’s not funny!’ Millie insisted. ‘I’m so mortified, I just want to crawl away and die.’ She pulled the sheets over her head. ‘Tremayne is probably writing to her mother about me as we speak.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Dora tugged at the covers. ‘Now get up, get dressed, wash your face and come and have some breakfast.’
‘Ugh! I couldn’t face breakfast.’
‘You must. It’ll do you good.’
She was right. Even though Millie’s stomach churned as she forced herself to eat tiny forkfuls of cold kipper, by the time she’d washed the last of it down with a cup of hot, sweet tea she felt less fragile.
She was still feeling a little shaky as she cleaned out the sluice and did the bedpan round. And when she had to hold a bowl for one of the women to be sick, her own stomach heaved in sympathy.
But she thought she was managing quite well until Sister Wren sought her out and told her to report to Matron’s office.
‘Why, Sister? What have I done?’
Sister Wren looked affronted. ‘Good heavens, there is so much wrong with you I would hardly know where to start,’ she said. ‘But for once the complaint has not come from me. Now hurry along. I want those lockers cleaned and scrubbed when you get back.’
At nine o’clock, Millie joined the line of sorry-looking nurses waiting outside Matron’s office.
Matron sat behind her desk, Miss Hanley the Assistant Matron at her shoulder. Outside the harsh wind spattered rain against the windowpanes like gravel against the glass. It was more of a downpour than an April shower.
Matron eyed her wearily. ‘Do you recall, Benedict, the last time we met in this office I told you that if I heard one more report of your misbehaviour, I would have no choice but to dismiss you?’ she said.
‘Yes, Matron.’ A tiny seed of unease began to unfurl inside her.