The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,108

Millie said quietly.

William paused for a long time. Millie could almost see his mind working, searching for the right words.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve already said too much. Helen would kill me if I told you.’ He sounded wretched. ‘All I can tell you is, you mustn’t blame Helen for what happened to Peggy. They were good friends. It was because she was a good friend that Helen – did what she did.’

Millie stared at him. There was a longing in his dark eyes, just as she’d seen in his sister’s. As if there was something he wanted to tell her, a secret he was desperate to share.

‘You have to trust me.’ He held on to her hands, gripping them tighter as she tried to pull away. ‘If Helen says she didn’t report you, then I’d bet my life on it that she didn’t. My sister is no sneak, Millie. And she doesn’t set out to hurt people either.’

‘But Peggy—’

‘For God’s sake, stop talking about her!’ William cut her off impatiently, startling her. ‘Helen didn’t get her into trouble. She saved her life!’

‘What do you mean?’ Millie asked softly.

William paused for a moment. Millie could see all kinds of conflicting emotions battling in his face. Then, finally, he took a deep breath and said, ‘Peggy was a very – emotional girl. She got herself very upset about something and tried to take her own life. Helen found her just in time. She begged Peggy to get help, but she refused. Helen was desperately worried she would try to kill herself again and next time she wouldn’t be there to save her. So she did the only thing she could, and told our mother.’

‘But I heard—’

‘You heard she was found smuggling in a bottle of booze?’ William finished for her. ‘That was the story everyone came up with. Her parents were very upset, you see. They didn’t want anyone to know the truth about their daughter’s – distress – so everyone decided it would be best to come up with the gin story. And Helen went along with it.’

‘Even though she knew everyone would think she was a sneak?’ Millie could hardly believe it. Poor Helen, the other girls were so cruel to her. If it was her, she was sure she would be tempted to clear her name and tell them the truth.

William seemed to guess her thoughts. ‘Now do you believe my sister can be trusted?’ he said. ‘Believe me, Helen knows how to keep secrets.’

There was something about the way he said it that made Millie look at him. ‘What was it that upset her so much that she tried to kill herself?’ she asked.

He was silent for a long time, his lips pressed together as if he was trying to hold the words in.

‘She fell for the wrong man and he let her down badly,’ he said.

One look at his eyes, so dark and intense, and Millie knew his sister wasn’t the only one who guarded their secrets.

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘WHO’S THERE? IS that you, Gwen?’

The old lady’s opaque, sightless eyes searched for Helen in the darkness as she sat beside the bed, holding her hand. It felt like a child’s, fragile bones under papery skin.

‘It’s me, Mrs Rodgers. Nurse Tremayne.’

Not that it mattered now. Mrs Rodgers was nearly eighty and beyond knowing anyone, even herself. The end was very near.

Mrs Rodgers turned her head away restlessly. In the dim light her scalp gleamed through sparse tufts of white hair. Helen was relieved she was quiet at last. All night she had been thrashing around, crying out in a panic, calling out for Gwen. Whether it was a sister or a daughter, Helen didn’t know. She had done her best to calm her fears, sitting with her and holding her hand, even though Amy Hollins complained bitterly at the extra work she’d had to do.

‘I don’t know why you’re making so much fuss,’ she’d said. ‘It’s not as if the old girl even knows you’re there.’

But Helen did it anyway, holding on to her hand and trying to reassure her. No one deserved to die alone.

Although she didn’t seem to be alone. All through the night, Mrs Rodgers had talked to the invisible souls who gathered around her bedside.

‘I’m not ready to go,’ she insisted over and over again, her voice blurred and mumbling. ‘Not until I’ve seen Gwen.’

Finally, as the pink light of dawn was beginning to creep around the drawn blinds, she lifted her head off the