The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,33

I suppose.’ He watched her as she applied powder to his leg to dry it. ‘When d’you reckon I’ll be up and about?’

‘You’d have to ask the doctor that. But we usually aim to get you exercising as soon as possible after your wound has healed, and you’ll be fitted with a temporary prosthetic after about a month,’ she quoted the chapter of the medical book she’d been studying the night before. She hadn’t done a stint on Orthopaedics yet, but she’d been reading up on amputations since Charlie Denton had arrived on the ward.

‘A month!’ he groaned. ‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s not that long when you think about it. I’m a lot better off than that poor bloke who came in last night.’

Sister Holmes had told them about the emergency head injury that had been admitted the previous evening. A young man, Mr Oliver, had been brought in with a compound depressed fracture. He’d been in theatre for most of the night and was now recovering in a private room at the far end of the ward.

‘Motorbike accident on the Mile End Road, so I heard,’ Charlie Denton said. ‘How is he, do you know?’

‘He’s as well as can be expected,’ Helen replied. Not that she knew much about it – only the staff nurses were allowed to nurse the patients in the side wards.

‘Well, I hope he pulls through. Poor bloke, I don’t think he’s any older than me. It just goes to show, doesn’t it? You have to make the most of every minute, because you never know if it’s going to be your last.’

He was silent while Helen replaced his splint, lost in his own thoughts. But by the time she’d finished he’d cheered up.

‘Anyway, nothing can upset me today,’ he said brightly. ‘It’s visiting day. My Sal’s coming in to see me.’

Helen had heard a lot about Charlie Denton’s Sal in the week he’d been on the ward. He talked about his fiancée all day, every day. She had never met a man so besotted.

‘I can’t wait for you to meet her, Nurse,’ he said, as Helen pulled the screens back. A few beds down Amy was doing the drinks round, reciting the list to Mr Bennett.

‘We’ve got tea, coffee, cocoa, hot milk, cold milk, Ovaltine . . .’ she intoned in a bored voice.

‘I’m telling you, I was a lucky man the day she agreed to marry me,’ Charlie Denton said.

‘I’m sure she’s a lucky woman, too.’ He seemed like quite a catch to Helen, well built and handsome, with coppery-fair hair and warm blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

His smile faltered now. ‘I dunno if she thinks she’s so lucky. Reckon she might think she’s got a pretty bad deal, what with my one leg and all.’ He looked down at it. ‘She didn’t bargain for that the day she said she’d marry me, did she?’

‘What do they say, Mr Denton? “In sickness and in health”?’ Helen reminded him, carefully arranging his covers and tucking them in around him.

‘I hope you’re right, Nurse.’

Amy arrived at the end of the bed next to his. It was occupied by Mr Nicholls, a very elderly hernia patient who was also very deaf.

‘What do you want to drink?’ she bawled at him.

‘What have you got?’ he bawled back.

‘Same as we had yesterday. And the day before. And the one before that, you silly old goat,’ Amy muttered. Then she pasted a smile on her face and said aloud, ‘We’ve got tea, coffee, cocoa, hot milk, cold milk, Ovaltine—’

‘What?’

‘Tea, coffee, cocoa, hot milk—’

‘What?’

‘I said hot milk—’ Amy was getting red-faced with the sheer effort of shouting.

‘Did you say Bovril?’

‘No, I said—’

‘I’d like a Bovril, dear, please.’ Mr Nicholls settled happily back against his pillows. Helen and Charlie exchanged amused glances.

‘You’ll have a bloody tea and like it.’ Amy sloshed some into a cup and shoved it at him, then moved on to Charlie Denton.

‘What do you want to drink?’ she asked.

‘What have you got?’ he asked.

Amy jerked her head towards the next bed. ‘Didn’t you hear me telling him?’

‘Sorry, Nurse, I don’t like eavesdropping on other people’s conversations.’

It was all Helen could do to keep a straight face as Amy rolled her eyes and began, ‘We’ve got tea, coffee, cocoa, hot milk, cold milk, Ovaltine—’

‘I don’t think I fancy anything, thanks, Nurse.’

‘Then why did you make me go through the list?’

‘I thought you might have something different.’

‘Well, we haven’t. And you’d better get a move on,