Millie thought as she headed back through the double doors into the student nurses’ home. The rambling Victorian building was once a grand mansion for a well-to-do family, but now the elegantly proportioned rooms and hallways were hidden under dull brown paint, and thick net curtains shrouded the bay windows, as if the sight of sunlight might lift the poor pros’ spirits more than was good for them.
Around a hundred students lived in the house for the three years of their training, crammed three or four to a room, under the care – if that was the right word – of Sister Sutton, the Home Sister. She occupied three rooms on the ground floor, just inside the main entrance, from which she and her horrid little dog Sparky kept a watchful eye on her charges. She was supposed to be like a mother to them, but her bad temper and the heavy ring of keys jingling at her belt made her seem more like a gaoler.
Millie trod carefully past her door, holding her breath as she went. She had almost reached the stairs up to her room when she heard a tell-tale heavy tread from the landing above her. Next moment Sister Sutton’s broad, squat figure filled the space at the top of the stairs, blocking out the feeble light from the landing window. Sparky, a small brown-and-white Jack Russell terrier, pranced around her own feet, yapping.
‘Benedict!’ Millie cringed at the sound of her own name. ‘Why are you creeping about here at this time of the day?’ Sister Sutton demanded.
‘I’ve just been to see Matron, Sister.’ Millie held out her hand to pat Sparky. He let out a low growl and retreated behind Sister Sutton’s voluminous grey skirt. Nasty, bad-tempered thing, Millie thought. Nothing like Nero, her father’s beloved Labrador.
‘Hmm. Why am I not surprised to hear that?’ Sister Sutton glared at her. Her eyes were like tiny black raisins, almost lost in the doughy folds of her fat face. ‘I hope she’s given you your marching orders?’
‘No, Sister. I’m to retake Preliminary Training.’
‘And what a waste of time that will be for everyone!’ Sister Sutton tutted impatiently. ‘Poor Sister Parker, her patience must be stretched to breaking point already, with all you useless girls. But I suppose Matron must know what she’s doing,’ she murmured under her breath.
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘Well, don’t just stand there, girl. Go to your room at once!’
As Millie went to move past her, Sister Sutton’s hand shot out and fixed on her arm, holding her back.
‘Have you been smoking?’ Her tiny eyes narrowed even further.
‘No, Sister,’ Millie lied guiltily.
Sister Sutton thrust her face close to hers, so close Millie could see the wiry grey hairs sprouting from her chin. ‘You know I can’t abide smoking. It’s a filthy, detestable habit.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ As Sister Sutton stared beadily into her face, Millie suddenly caught a familiar whiff. ‘Is that Guerlain perfume you’re wearing, Sister?’
Sister Sutton released her abruptly, her cheeks flushing. ‘What an impertinent question!’ she spluttered. ‘As if I have time for such fripperies. Go on with you, girl. Get up to your room. I shall come up there in a minute and inspect it. I dare say it’s a terrible mess as usual?’
Still blustering, she stomped off down the stairs, Sparky trotting behind her.
Millie watched her go, smiling to herself. Smoking might be a nasty, detestable habit. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as rifling through other people’s drawers and stealing their perfume.
Chapter Four
DORA’S FIRST IMPRESSION of the Home Sister was that she had never seen anyone so fat in her life. Sister Sutton was about five foot tall and almost as wide. She filled the doorway of the nurses’ home, her grey uniform stretched to bursting over a formidable shelf of a bosom. Her head seemed to be connected to her body by a cascade of quivering chins. Even her ankles were fat, spilling over her stout black shoes.
‘You there!’ She waddled towards Dora at surprising speed, trundling as if she were on wheels. Grey wisps of hair escaped from her starched cap. Behind her scampered a yapping terrier.
‘I saw you,’ she accused, pointing a fat finger straight between Dora’s eyes. ‘Canoodling with that porter.’
‘I wasn’t canoodling with anyone!’
‘Don’t lie to me, girl, I saw you with my own eyes. Quiet, Sparky!’ she roared at the dog, who was circling Dora’s legs, his lips drawn back to show yellow teeth. ‘I was watching you from my office. You are a disgrace. I have a