back off his smiling face. So handsome, too. Helen nervously checked the thought, as if he could somehow read her mind.
He was looking at her expectantly, but Helen didn’t know what to say. Finally she asked, ‘How’s your leg?’
‘All right, thanks. Takes a bit of getting used to, but it’s not as bad as I thought.’
‘That’s good.’ She moved awkwardly past him into the sluice room. Mr Denton followed her.
‘Cold in here, isn’t it?’
‘That’s because there’s no glass in the windows.’ Helen pointed at the high screen-covered gap above their heads. ‘It’s better for ventilation. But it does get freezing in the winter.’
‘Is that right?’
It seemed so ridiculous, having a chat about the sluice-room window. But Helen had no idea what else to say. She could feel him watching her from the doorway as she found a vase in the cupboard and filled it under the tap.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said at last.
‘You’ve only been gone a day!’
‘I know, but it feels strange, not seeing your smiling face when I wake up.’
The silence stretched between them. Helen glanced down at the watch pinned to her bib. Another minute and she’d have to go back to the ward.
‘I’m making a right mess of this, aren’t I?’ Charlie Denton ran his hand through his sandy hair. ‘I had it all planned on the way here, but now it’s all gone out of my head.’
‘What did you want to say?’ Helen could hear her heart beating in her ears.
He smiled at her, his blue eyes warm. ‘I don’t suppose you’d think about coming out with me one night?’
Her surprise must have shown on her face because he went on quickly, ‘No, sorry, forget I asked. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’ve probably got dozens of lads after you. Why would you want to have anything to do with me?’
‘I haven’t, honestly,’ Helen blurted out.
His face brightened. ‘So does that mean you’ll come out with me?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m going on nights from tomorrow.’
‘How long for?’
‘Three months.’
‘Three months! That’s a long time to wait for a night out at the pictures!’ Charlie Denton thought about it for a moment. ‘But I reckon you’re worth waiting for,’ he said cheekily. ‘So what d’you reckon? Will you go out with me then?’
Helen hesitated. She longed to go, but . . . ‘My mother wouldn’t like it.’
‘I’m not asking your mother. I’m asking you.’ He grinned. ‘And I’m warning you, if you say no, I’ll come back in three months and ask you again!’
‘You’re very persistent.’
‘I am when I want something, Nurse T.’ He frowned. ‘I can’t keep calling you that, can I? Can I at least know your name?’
‘Helen.’
‘Helen.’ He paused for a moment, savouring it. ‘I knew you’d have a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.’ He smiled. ‘And I reckon now I’m not a patient any more, you can call me Charlie.’ He took her hand and shook it. ‘I’ll see you in three months, Helen.’
‘If you say so . . . Charlie.’
But as she watched him walk away, Helen knew she would never see him again. In three months’ time he would have gone back to his old life and forgotten all about her. Which was probably just as well since her mother would never allow her to have a boyfriend.
She smiled to herself as she carried the vase back to the ward. But it was still a nice idea while it lasted.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘SEE ANYTHING YOU like, young lady?’
Mr Solomon crept from behind the curtained-off area at the back of the shop, his tread so soft Dora hadn’t heard him approach. ‘Or perhaps you have something you wish to offer me?’ he suggested
‘I’m looking for something . . .’ She peered into the glass-fronted case, crammed full of watches, rings, brooches and trinkets, each with its own sad story to tell. How desperate did a woman have to be to part with her wedding ring, or a man to hand over his precious war medals, knowing they might never see them again?
‘So you have something special in mind?’ He took a jingling ring of keys out of his pocket and selected one. ‘A ring, perhaps? Or a bracelet? I have one here that might suit you . . .’
‘A necklace,’ Dora said. ‘A – friend – brought it in last month. You gave him money for it.’
‘And now you want it back?’ He opened up the case. ‘A necklace, you say? What does it look like?’
‘It’s silver,