The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,160
no reason why she’d lie about something like that.
Dora frowned. There had to be something more to it, something even her mother didn’t know.
Somewhere inside her, a dark and nameless fear began to uncoil itself again.
Two days later, Dora sent word for Josie to meet her in Victoria Park. It was a hot, sunny Saturday and the park was crowded with families, children playing and young couples strolling hand in hand.
The Josie she knew would have loved a day like this. She would have been in the park with her friends or Bea and Little Alfie, squealing with fun and laughter as she chased them around on the grass.
But sitting on a park bench, Dora scarcely recognised the thin, nervous young girl who approached her, head down, dragging her feet. Seeing her, Dora’s heart sank to her shoes.
‘All right, Jose?’ she greeted her. ‘Lovely day, ain’t it?’
‘S’all right, I s’pose.’ Josie stopped a few feet away and eyed her cautiously. ‘What do you want?’ she asked. Then, before she could reply, she said, ‘I suppose Mum told you to talk to me about Gold’s? Well, you’re wasting your time. I’ve made up my mind and I’m not going to change it.’ Her chin lifted defiantly.
‘So it’s true, then? You want to leave school?’ Dora shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted up at her. ‘Why, Josie? I thought you loved school? What about your certificates?’
‘I don’t need any certificates.’
‘You’ll need them if you want to be a teacher, surely?’
‘I don’t want to be a teacher,’ Josie said flatly. ‘I just want to leave school and start earning some money, so I can—’
She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. Dora understood why she wanted to leave school. It was to escape Alf.
Hadn’t she done the same thing herself? Part of her reason for becoming a nurse was so she wouldn’t have to live under the same roof as him. But if she’d known that by leaving she would be condemning her sister to the same living hell, she would never have done it.
‘What is it, Josie?’ she whispered. ‘You can tell me.’
She looked at Josie’s dark, wretched eyes and remembered the bright little child she had been. Was this really the same girl who always had her head in a book? Who ran to school every morning and stayed behind every afternoon, and helped the younger kids with their reading and sums?
Alf Doyle had taken away more than her sister’s innocence. He had taken away her hopes and her dreams, too.
And in spite of her warning, she was still doing it.
She stood up. Suddenly her legs seemed to be as fragile as pipe cleaners, barely able to support her.
‘Josie, I need to know,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Is it Alf?’
Josie’s head shot back and Dora saw shock spark in her eyes. Then she turned on her heel abruptly and began walking away.
‘Josie, please!’ Dora watched her go, hurrying along the path, shouldering her way through the couples and the families as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. She was disappearing, slipping away from her. Another second and it would be too late . . .
‘It happened to me too, Josie!’ she called out.
The words seemed to echo around inside her head. A few people turned to look at her curiously, a dumpy redheaded girl standing in the middle of the path, shouting nonsense into the air.
Dora stood and waited, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of her sister. But Josie had already gone, lost in the crowd.
Lost for ever.
Defeated, she turned away to go, just as a small voice behind her called her name.
Dora swung round. There, on the path, stood Josie. She looked so small and lost, tears streaming down her face.
‘Is it . . . is it true?’ she asked. ‘It’s not just me?’
Dora rushed to her, and a moment later they were clinging to each other, not even caring who might be watching them. Josie was crying, sobbing so much her slender body shook. Dora wanted to cry too as she clung to her, stroking her hair.
‘We need to talk,’ she whispered. ‘No more secrets, all right? It’s the only way, Jose.’
They walked. Round and round Victoria Park, until their legs ached. Then they sat on a bench and watched the ducks swimming on the lake. Josie’s hand felt small and trusting in Dora’s, just as it had when they were young and she had brought her here to feed the ducks.