The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,147
different when it was her own father lying in the bed.
Her grandmother crossed the room to his bedside. ‘I don’t understand it. There is hardly a scratch on him.’ She looked over her shoulder at Millie. ‘Do you think they might be mistaken about the severity of his condition? Surely if he was that badly injured there would be a wound . . .?’
Millie came to her side. She desperately wanted to offer her grandmother the hope she craved. But she also knew how cruel that would be.
‘All the damage is inside his skull, Granny,’ she said gently. ‘The fall and the blow to his head have shaken his brain badly and caused it to swell. The doctors are hoping that by giving him lots of time and rest the pressure will subside.’
‘And then he will recover?’
If his brain doesn’t start to leak blood, Millie thought. And even if it doesn’t, they wouldn’t know for a while how the vitality of the medullary centres had been threatened. He might well live, but might not fully recover.
But there was no reason to burden her grandmother with such depressing thoughts. The elderly lady was holding on to the metal bedhead as if she would fall down without its support.
‘Yes, Granny. He will recover,’ Millie said flatly.
She pulled up a chair for her grandmother and found one for herself. They sat in silence for a long time, both lost in their thoughts. The Dowager Countess held her son’s hand in her own thin beringed one.
‘Does he know we’re here, do you think?’ she asked.
‘It’s hard to say. I hope so.’
A nurse came in, looking crisp and professional in her blue uniform. Millie watched as she checked the patient’s temperature, pulse and respiration. She spoke to him while she worked, explaining what she was doing. Millie remembered all the times she’d had to chat away to Mrs Jones’ lifeless body while she was training. At the time it had seemed so silly, but now it all made sense. She was treating him like a person, not just a patient. Millie watched the nurse work, and itched to do something practical herself. She had never felt so useless, just sitting there.
They sat with him until the evening turned to night. Millie heard the soft patter of footsteps along the corridor outside as the night staff came on duty.
Beside her, her grandmother’s eyelids drooped. ‘You should go home, Granny,’ Millie said quietly. ‘You need to get some rest.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right, child. It has been a rather long and worrying day.’ She rose stiffly to her feet. ‘I will ask Felix to bring the car for us.’
‘Oh, no, I’m staying here.’
‘But you need your rest too.’
‘How can I possibly sleep?’ Millie looked at her father. ‘Besides, I want to be here. Just in case he wakes up.’ Or the worst happens, she added silently.
If her grandmother had any inkling of what was in her heart, she didn’t let on. ‘You might be in the way,’ she said anxiously. ‘The nurses are bound to be very busy.’
‘All the more reason I should stay, then. I can keep an eye on him during the night. I’m sure, the night staff will appreciate that.’ She looked up at her grandmother, her mouth firm with determination. ‘Whatever anyone says, I’m staying,’ she insisted.
The Dowager Countess sighed. ‘I can see that as usual your mind is made up on the matter, regardless of what anyone else thinks,’ she said heavily. ‘Very well, have it your own way. But I insist you return home first thing in the morning. We must try to maintain normality for the sake of the servants, if nothing else.’
The night nurse was surprised when she came in to turn down the lights and found Millie curled up in a chair, half asleep by her father’s bed.
‘You really should go home,’ she advised. ‘Sister would have a fit if she knew anyone was here overnight.’
‘Sister won’t be back until tomorrow morning. She doesn’t have to know, does she?’ Millie stretched and yawned.
‘I suppose not.’ The nurse looked down at her sympathetically. ‘You look worn out. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you.’
The nurse shaded the light with a green cloth and straightened the sheets. ‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ she said. ‘But do call me if you’re concerned about anything.’
‘Is there anything I can do for him?’ Millie asked quickly, before she left. ‘I feel so useless.’