The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,126

away from him, take a look back. If he’s looking back at you, too, that means he likes you.’

‘Is that it?’ Helen laughed.

‘That’s it.’ William tightened the last nut and stood up, brushing down his trousers. ‘Come on, we’d better get going. I think you’re going to need to get changed before this date of yours.’

Helen looked down at her oil-streaked dress in dismay. ‘Oh, no! I won’t have time to change.’ Tears of frustration pricked her eyes. She’d planned this night so carefully, daydreamed about how Charlie would look at her when he saw her again. And now it was all ruined.

He was sitting on a bench outside the hospital gates when they pulled up, a sagging bunch of flowers in his hands. Helen lurched forward in her seat, craning her neck to look at him.

‘I take it that’s your swain?’ William was amused. ‘He looks as nervous as you are. Probably thinks you’ve stood him up, poor chap.’

He pulled up alongside Charlie. Helen barely waited for him to stop the car before she tumbled out, tongue-tied and flustered.

‘I – I’m so sorry I’m late,’ she stammered, fumbling with her shoe, which had got caught in the hem of her dress. ‘I know I look an awful mess, but I can explain . . .’

‘It’s entirely my fault, I’m afraid.’ William got out of the car. ‘We got a puncture on our way back from Richmond, and I made my sister help me change the wheel. I can assure you, she usually puts a lot more effort into her appearance.’

‘That’s all right. I’m just glad you’re here.’ He handed her the flowers. ‘For you,’ he said.

‘Thank you. They’re lovely.’

William stuck out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m William Tremayne, Helen’s brother.’

‘Charlie Denton.’ Charlie got up slowly, leaning on his stick for support. He looked rather dazed as he shook William’s hand. He glanced over his shoulder at Bessie, parked at the kerb. ‘Nice motor,’ he commented.

‘Meet Bessie, my pride and joy. When she’s not breaking down and leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere, that is.’

Helen left the pair of them discussing Bessie’s relative merits, and made a dash to the nurses’ home.

Millie was in their room, reading an anatomy textbook.

‘Can you believe there are so many bones in the human body?’ she sighed. ‘And why do they all have to have such stupid names?’ She looked up at Helen and her mouth fell open. ‘Crikey, what happened to you?’

‘Don’t ask.’ Helen frantically unbuttoned her dress. ‘I’m supposed to be going out with Charlie tonight, and I’ve got nothing to wear.’ She threw open the wardrobe and stared inside in despair. The few decent dresses she had were all at home in Richmond – her mother had decided very firmly that she would have no need of them while she was training. ‘After all, it’s not as if you’re going gallivanting around London, is it?’ she’d sniffed.

‘Let me see.’ Millie put down her book and stood up to look in Helen’s wardrobe. ‘You’re right, it’s not exactly inspiring, is it?’

‘I’ll just have to wear this one.’ Helen pulled out a pea green dress covered in tiny white spots. It was dull but serviceable. ‘It’ll do, won’t it?’

‘If you’re going off to visit his maiden aunt, I’m sure it will be very suitable.’

Helen blinked back tears. ‘You’re not helping!’

‘Then put that horrid frock back in your wardrobe and leave it to me.’ Millie flung open the other wardrobe where she kept her clothes. Dora and Helen shared a cupboard for their meagre assortment of dresses, skirts and blouses, but Millie’s lavish wardrobe of designer gowns had its own home.

‘What are you doing?’ Helen asked.

‘Finding something for you to wear.’ Millie rifled through the rail, pulling out and rejecting garments. ‘My grandmother ordered me far too many clothes when I did the Season, and insisted I brought them all with me when I came here. I knew they’d come in useful one day . . . ah, what about this one?’

She pulled out a dress in a deep burnt orange colour. ‘I could never wear it because the colour was far too strong for me. But you could carry it off beautifully with your dark colouring. Here, try it on.’

Helen wanted to argue, but she had no time to demur. And besides, she had never seen such a beautiful dress, let alone worn one.

It was even more beautiful when she’d slipped it on. Millie was right, the colour suited