against the door. A few minutes later there was the sound of creaking floorboards from below them, and Sister Sutton’s voice rang out.
‘Ten o’clock. Lights out, Nurses.’
Helen put away her letter and pattered across the room to turn off the lights, then hopped back into bed.
‘’Night,’ Dora said.
‘Goodnight.’
Within a few moments, soft breathing from the other side of the room told her Helen was fast asleep. Dora lay on her back, staring into the darkness. The silence seemed to close in on her.
She had never been away from home before, not even for a single night. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of longing to see her mum again.
But slowly, gradually, the weariness of the day took over. As she fell into a fitful sleep, Alf Doyle crept into her dreams just as he had on so many nights, his bulky body looming over her, big clumsy hands groping for her in the dark . . .
She opened her eyes, saw the shadowy shape at the end of her bed, and let out a scream.
Immediately a hand was clamped over her mouth, pinning her against the pillows.
‘Shut up, for God’s sake, before you bring everyone running!’ a female voice hissed.
But there were already footsteps and voices in the corridor as the other girls gathered outside.
‘What’s going on?’ someone called out.
‘Nothing. Just the new girl having a nightmare.’ Helen’s voice was sleepy in the darkness.
‘It sounded like someone was being murdered,’ one of the students grumbled.
‘She will be murdered if she wakes me up again,’ muttered another.
No one inside the room moved as the footsteps shuffled away. Then the weight rolled off Dora’s chest and sat up. In the gloom, she could just about make out a figure at the end of her bed.
‘That was a bit close for comfort,’ the other girl said, taking off her beret and fluffing up her hair.
‘I don’t know why you can’t just get in on time like everyone else,’ Helen grumbled, turning over and pulling the covers up around her ears.
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ The newcomer looked down at Dora. ‘Sorry, did I give you a frightful shock? You mustn’t mind me, I’m always doing it.’ She peeled off a glove and held out her hand. ‘How do you do, by the way? I’m Millie Benedict. We’re going to be sharing a room, won’t that be fun?’
Chapter Six
MILLIE BROKE INTO a brisk trot down the empty corridor. She knew she would be in trouble if she were caught running – nurses were allowed to run only in case of fire or haemorrhages – but she would be in worse trouble from Sister Parker if she were late on her first day back in preliminary training.
The new students were already busy cleaning when she slipped in to the classroom. Every morning after breakfast and before they started lectures, the PTS students had to clean every inch of the classroom and practical area. They damp dusted, high dusted, cleaned out the cupboards, washed bedpans and bottles, and washed and powdered the rubber mackintosh sheets that were used to protect the mattresses on the wards.
Millie tried to slink off to the sluice before she was seen, but naturally the eagle eye of Sister Parker, the Sister Tutor, sought her out straight away.
‘Oh, Benedict, it’s you again.’ Sister Parker may have seemed like a harmless old dear with her white hair, bright blue eyes behind round pebble spectacles and soft Scottish accent. But Millie knew from bitter experience that she had a sting like a scorpion. Her standards were extremely high, and she could reduce a pro to tears over a badly made bed. ‘I do hope your lack of punctuality this morning is not going to be a sign of things to come?’
‘No, Sister.’
She could feel Sister Parker’s eyes on her, searching for faults. Finally, to Millie’s relief, she said, ‘Well, don’t just stand there looking decorative, girl. Those lockers need cleaning out.’
Do they? Millie thought ten minutes later, as she got down on her hands and knees to scrub out the corners of a locker with Lysol and hot water. No one ever used the lockers in the practice area. It was set out like a ward, with beds, screens, trolleys and all the usual equipment, but no patient ever saw these things. And yet every morning they had to scrub every inch of them.
Millie knew better than to ask why. Once, at the very beginning of her training, she had had the temerity to