The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,91
Hopkins saw the little skip in Nurse Tremayne’s step as she crossed the courtyard. It was lovely to see the way her eyes lit up as she saw the letter. That young man who’d come in to deliver it must mean a lot to her, he decided.
‘Is that kettle boiled yet, Mr Hopkins?’ One of the porters called out from the back room.
‘I’m doing it now.’ He smiled to himself as he turned off the gas and warmed the teapot. Maybe Nurse Tremayne would get to do a bit of gadding after all, he thought.
Helen could feel her letter burning a hole in her pocket all the way through the first two hours of her duty. She didn’t dare get it out and read it, although she was absolutely desperate.
Her first emotion when Mr Hopkins had given her the letter was of happiness that Charlie Denton had remembered her. But by the time she’d reached the ward, she’d already convinced herself that it must be bad news. He had changed his mind about taking her out, and was trying to extricate himself as best he could from an awkward situation. For all Helen knew, Sally might even have decided to give him a second chance.
Helen didn’t blame him. She knew all about patients who formed romantic attachments to the nurses who cared for them, only to realise their mistake once they returned to their real lives. She should just be grateful that he had thought enough of her to set her straight, she decided firmly.
That night she couldn’t wait for Amy to go off for her midnight rendezvous in the kitchen with the junior doctors, so she could have some time to read her letter in peace. She sat at the ward desk and read by the dim green-shaded light. All around her, the women filled the air with their low moans, but Helen was too lost in her letter to notice.
Dear Helen,
I hope you don’t mind me writing to you. I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me, but here I am, turning up like a bad penny. I just thought I’d let you know how I’m getting on.
I’ve settled back into my old life, enjoying seeing my mates and going to the pub, just like you said. No work yet, but that’s to be expected, I suppose. I’m sure something will come along. Anyway, I’m getting around a lot on the new leg, and surprising everyone with what I can do. My dad reckons it won’t be long before I’m playing for Orient. Mind you, the way they’ve been playing lately, I reckon even a bloke with one leg would be an improvement! I still get a bit down sometimes, but whenever I start to feel sorry for myself, I hear your voice in my head, telling me to count my blessings. I reckon I needed that kick up the backside you gave me, although I can’t say I was happy about it at the time!
Listen to me, rabbiting on about myself. How are you getting on? How is night duty? It’s only another six weeks till you finish, isn’t it? You see, I’m counting the days. I still want to take you out when you get off. I want to show you how well I’m doing – you never know, I might even take you dancing by then!
Seriously, Helen, I know you’ve probably forgotten all about me – heaven knows, you must have patients asking you out all the time. But it really would mean a lot to me if you gave me a chance. Promise me you’ll think about it, anyway.
I’ll be in touch again next month. In the meantime, I’ll have my fingers crossed you’ll say yes.
Yours,
Charlie Denton
P.S. Sorry for writing to you at the hospital. I hope it doesn’t get you into any trouble with your Matron.
Helen laid the letter in her lap and paused for a moment, savouring it. The paper was smudged with ink and covered with crossings out, but to her it was as beautiful as one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
Charlie Denton hadn’t forgotten her. He still thought about her, and he was counting the days until he could take her out.
She could never accept, she knew that. Her mother would never allow it. But it was still nice to know that somewhere out there, someone cared.
‘Nurse? Nurse, come here at once!’ Mrs Mortimer’s voice rang out imperiously from the darkness, breaking into her pleasant thoughts. Helen put her letter