and outbuildings arranged loosely around a central paved courtyard with a small cluster of plane trees at its centre. These housed the wards, the operating block and the dispensary. Beyond them lay more buildings, including the dining rooms, nurses’ homes and the doctors’ quarters.
Up until a few weeks ago her office had also been situated down there. But when she took over as Matron, Kathleen had insisted on moving into the main hospital building so she could be closer to the wards.
It had caused much consternation among the senior nursing staff. ‘Why does she need to keep an eye on us?’ the disgruntled sisters asked amongst themselves – stirred up, Kathleen suspected, by Miss Hanley. But it was worth the trouble. She was now in the heart of the hospital, where she belonged. Not only was she closer at hand to deal with emergencies on the wards, but her new office gave her a good view over the courtyard, where she could see everyone going about their business.
The damp chill of early September had given way to a few glorious days of Indian summer. Patients basked in their wheelchairs under the shade of the plane trees, enjoying the autumn sunshine. As she watched, a young nurse emerged through the archway from the dining block, heading back across the courtyard to the wards, doing the brisk heel-toe walk that almost but didn’t quite break the ‘no running’ rule.
As if she knew she was being watched, the girl suddenly caught Kathleen’s eye. She ducked her head, but not before Kathleen saw the guilty flush on her cheeks.
She turned away, smiling to herself. ‘So you don’t think we should give Miss Doyle a chance?’ she said.
‘I don’t believe she would fit in.’
I know how she feels, Kathleen thought.
Perhaps for once Miss Hanley had a point. If the new Matron couldn’t even fit in, how would someone like Dora Doyle ever cope?
Chapter Two
DORA HAD MANAGED to convince herself she didn’t want to be a nurse by the time the letter came.
She was walking back to Griffin Street with her friend Ruby Pike on a drizzly October evening after their shift at Gold’s when her little sister Beatrice came running up the street, boots undone, curls flying.
‘All right, Bea? Where’s the fire?’ Dora laughed.
‘Your letter from the hospital’s come!’ she panted. At eleven years old she looked like a miniature version of Dora, with her snub nose, ginger hair and freckled face. ‘Nanna wanted to open it but Mum says we’ve got to wait for you. Come on!’ She pulled at her sister’s hand, dragging her along the street.
Dora looked at Ruby. ‘This is it,’ she said.
‘Just think, this time next month you’ll be out of that ruddy sweatshop!’ Ruby grinned back.
‘I doubt it.’ Dora knew she’d made a proper fool of herself in the interview. She was surprised they’d even bothered to write.
‘’Course you will. They’d be daft not to take you on. Haven’t we always said, you’ve got the brains and I’ve got the looks?’
Dora grinned. With her wavy blonde hair and buxom curves, Ruby looked more like a movie star than a machinist. But she could have been clever too, if she hadn’t been too busy flirting with the boys at school.
Ruby saw Dora’s smile wobble and took her arm, propelling her down the street after Bea, who’d run on ahead to warn the rest of the family at number twenty-eight.
‘Stop worrying, you’ll get in,’ she said. ‘You’re doing the right thing, I reckon. I wouldn’t mind being a nurse myself, come to think of it. Think of all those handsome doctors. Not to mention all those rich old men with incurable diseases, just waiting to die and leave me all their worldly goods!’
‘I think the idea is to keep them alive, Rube.’
They reached Dora’s front doorstep. ‘Go on.’ Ruby gave her a little shove. ‘You can’t put it off forever, y’know.’
‘I wish I could.’ She dreaded seeing the disappointment on her mum’s face. Dora might have given up on the idea, but it was all Rose Doyle talked about.
‘Well, you can’t. Now get in there before your nanna changes her mind and opens it for you. Let me know how you get on, won’t you?’ said Ruby as she let herself in next door.
‘I won’t need to,’ Dora said. ‘If I get in, you’ll be able to hear my mum screaming all the way to Aldgate!’
The letter was on the kitchen mantelpiece, tucked behind the old clock. The rest of the