Helen went back to the nurses’ home to change into a fresh apron. Then she returned to the ward.
She crept back full of trepidation, ready to apologise to anybody and everybody. She had barely got through the doors before Sister Holmes stepped into her path.
‘Feeling a little calmer, Tremayne?’ Her brows rose questioningly.
‘Yes, Sister. Thank you, Sister.’ Helen hung her head, ready to say the speech she had been practising in her head all the way back from the nurses’ home. ‘I am so sorry, Sister. It was very wrong of me to speak out of turn like that. I will apologise to Mr Denton, of course.’
‘Before you do, Tremayne, perhaps you had better take a look?’
Sister Holmes stepped aside. Helen lifted her head warily. There, at the far end of the ward, Mr Denton sat in the chair beside his bed, doing a crossword, his temporary prosthetic propped up on a stool in front of him.
‘It seems your little lecture did him the world of good,’ Sister Holmes said. ‘But please don’t make a habit of it, will you, Tremayne?’
‘No, Sister.’
She didn’t approach him straight away. Sister Holmes might have forgiven her, but she wasn’t sure Charlie Denton ever would.
Finally, she could avoid it no longer. She and Amy were doing TPRs again, and it was just her luck he was last on her list.
‘Nurse T,’ he greeted her quietly.
‘Mr Denton.’
They were both silent as she checked his pulse. It wasn’t until she’d recorded the number on the chart at the bottom of his bed that he finally said, ‘Thanks.’
‘What for?’
‘Giving me a kick up the backside.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I reckon I needed it.’
Helen’s head spun with all kinds of emotions. There was so much she wanted to say, but this time she managed to stay professional.
‘Would you like that cup of tea now, Mr Denton?’ she asked.
‘Thank you, Nurse. That would be very nice indeed.’
She went to great lengths to lay out a tea tray nicely with a pretty coloured cloth and a Christmas cracker. As she tucked a spring of holly into his saucer, she told herself that Amy Hollins was wrong. She would do the same for any patient, even Mr Boyd.
Chapter Seventeen
LUCY LANE SAT at her dressing table, admiring her Christmas gift in the mirror. The pearls glowed prettily against her skin, three strings fastened together with a diamond-encrusted clasp. Her father assured her they were from the South Seas, so they were the best money could buy. They would go perfectly with the new dress her mother had had made for her, shimmering silver-grey satin and chiffon, cut on the bias so it skimmed over her slim curves before falling in delicate bead-trimmed points almost to the ground. With matching silver slippers, white satin evening gloves and her mother’s silver fox stole, she would steal the show at the Christmas Dance that night, she decided.
What a pity it was just a silly hospital do and not a really grand occasion where she might be photographed. But even if she didn’t make it into the pages of Tatler, at least she’d have the satisfaction of seeing the other girls sick with envy. Most of them couldn’t even afford a new pair of stockings for the occasion, let alone a dress designed by Hartnell.
Downstairs, her parents were arguing. It had been brewing like a storm since the last guest left their party on Christmas Eve. Throughout Christmas Day the dark clouds had been building, tension gathering, with long, oppressive silences punctuated by the odd sniping comment. It was almost a relief when finally the storm broke and the heavens opened in a spite-filled rage of shouting, screaming and breaking glass that had lasted all afternoon. It had been going on for so long Lucy barely noticed it any more as she sat at her mirror, turning her head this way and that to catch the pearls’ iridescent sheen, lost in her own world of dresses and dancing.
Soon, she knew, it would all be over. The storm would blow itself out, the screaming and smashing ornaments would stop, and peace would be restored. In a couple of days her father would appease her mother with a gift, some diamonds from Asprey’s perhaps, or a new fur, and then it would be all smiles again. Until the storm clouds gathered once more.
The front door crashed, making her jump. A moment later she heard her father’s car roar away. She steeled herself, still fingering the pearls. A