The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,170
was impossible, impulsive, complete madness and they would never get away with it. She could almost see her mother, face pinched with disapproval, dismissing the idea on her behalf.
‘Yes, please,’ she said.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
SHE RAN ALL the way back to the nurses’ home, her mind in a whirl. Had she really just accepted Charlie’s proposal? She could scarcely believe it. She’d never done anything impulsive in her life.
As she lined up with the others for her turn in the bathroom, she could barely stop herself from laughing out loud. She had no idea what she had let herself in for. She’d left Charlie promising to borrow a car to get them to Gretna Green. All she had to do was to pack and be ready to leave at teatime the following day.
But tomorrow was also the day she was due to meet her mother to go through the arrangements for her move to St Andrew’s.
One way or another, I’m going to Scotland, she thought, smiling at herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth.
Millie had, as usual, ignored the ten o’clock curfew, to meet her aunt for dinner, but Dora was already in bed when Helen crept back into their room just as Sister Sutton was calling for lights out.
She undressed quickly in the dark and changed into her flannel nightdress, shivering in the cold. It was a warm summer’s night, but their attic bedroom was freezing as usual.
Moving quietly so as not to disturb Dora, Helen eased open her wardrobe doors and groped in the dark for her few items of clothes. There wasn’t much to pack, at any rate. She carefully pulled her suitcase out from under her bed, and had just opened it when Dora’s voice came sleepily out of the darkness.
‘What are you doing?’
Helen looked up sharply. She could see Dora lying on her side, her eyes glinting in the gloom, watching her.
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I guessed that.’ Dora sat up, pulling the blanket around her chin. ‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘I – just thought I’d get ready for Scotland.’ At least it wasn’t a lie, she told herself.
Dora faced Helen in the darkness. ‘I thought you weren’t leaving for a few days yet?’
‘I’m not.’
‘So why have you started packing in the middle of the night?’ Helen heard the shrewd tone of Dora’s voice. There was no fooling her. She had far too much East End cunning for that.
‘You’re up to something, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. Not if you don’t want to.’
Helen hesitated. She knew she could trust Dora. She seemed like the kind who would be good at keeping secrets. She scrambled into bed, shivering as her bare feet touched the icy starched linen sheets.
‘I’m running away,’ she said.
Dora listened carefully as Helen explained her plan to elope with Charlie to Gretna Green.
‘It all sounds very romantic,’ she said finally.
‘It’s the only way we can be together,’ Helen said.
‘And what will you do when you’re married? Have you thought about that?’
‘I—’ Helen faltered.
‘You won’t be able to continue your training. Not up in Scotland, or down here, or anywhere else.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Helen said bravely. ‘As long as I’m with Charlie.’
‘You might say that now, but how will you feel in a few years’ time? You’d be giving up an awful lot to be with him, remember?’
‘It would be worth it.’
‘I hope you’re right. I hope your Charlie is worth burning all your bridges for, because that’s what you’ll be doing, make no mistake about that.’
Helen heard the bedsprings creak as Dora lay down again. She lay on her back too, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. She could feel some of her confidence ebbing away. Dora was right. Once she married Charlie her life would change completely. She would not just be giving up nursing, she’d be giving up everything. Her mother would never speak to her again, and she’d make sure the rest of her family didn’t either. Much as Helen loved Charlie, was she ready to throw in her lot with a young man she had known a matter of months?
‘I’ll tell you something else, too,’ Dora said. ‘If you do a flit now, you’ll be proving your mum right, won’t you? You’ll be proving that Charlie is a bad influence and that you can’t be trusted to think for yourself.’
Helen watched the shadows deepening on the sloped eaves. Dora was right again, she thought miserably.