The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,92

down and tiptoed down the ward.

‘What is it, Mrs Mortimer?’

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Mortimer. Here, let me try to make you more comfortable.’

‘More comfortable? These wretched pillows feel as if they’ve been stuffed with coal. And I don’t know what you’re grinning at.’ She glared at Helen through the darkness. ‘Are you an idiot, girl?’

‘No, Mrs Mortimer.’ Helen tried hard not to smile as she plumped up the pillows. Charlie Denton hadn’t forgotten her, and not even Maud Mortimer could wipe the smile off her face tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

‘WHAT EXACTLY DO you think you’re playing at, Nurse Doyle?’

Dora squirmed under Sister Blake’s withering gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ she mumbled. ‘I thought it was a joke.’

‘A joke?’ Sister’s voice rose in disbelief. ‘Do I look as if I’m laughing, Doyle? Does poor Mr Wenham look as if he’s laughing?’

‘No, Sister.’ Dora kept her gaze fixed on the white-tiled wall of the sluice. The last half-hour had been a slowly unravelling nightmare.

It had all started when Mr Wenham had asked her for help with his urinal. ‘It’s a bit awkward with my poorly back.’ He winced. ‘If you could just reach down there and arrange it all, so to speak . . .’

But Dora had already caught the twinkling eye of the man in the next bed as she took the bottle behind the screens, and knew this was yet another of their pathetic jokes. Two months after she’d started on the ward, the men still hadn’t stopped tormenting her. Blushing, she’d panicked and thrust the urinal under the covers then shot off through the screens as fast as she could. It wasn’t until she had been summoned to account to Sister Blake for why she had refused to help an immobile patient, that she’d realised it wasn’t a joke.

Cleaning up wasn’t a joke, either. Dora was too mortified to meet Mr Wenham’s eye as she stripped off the soiled bedding. The poor man didn’t know where to put himself.

‘Sorry, Nurse,’ he kept mumbling.

‘This is not the first time this has happened, is it, Doyle? I seem to recall several similar incidents when you’ve left a patient struggling.’

Heat spread up her chest, flooding her neck and face. ‘I’m sorry, Sister.’

‘Is there something I should know, Doyle?’

Dora looked up sharply. ‘I – I don’t know what you mean, Sister.’

‘I mean, do you have some kind of problem dealing with men?’

Sister Blake’s keen eyes were fixed on her, as if she could see right into her head. Dora dropped her gaze quickly.

‘N-no, Sister.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ When Sister Blake spoke again, her voice was gentler, more understanding. ‘Look, I was a student myself once. I realise that dealing with male patients can be embarrassing and alarming for a young girl, but it is a very necessary part of nursing.’

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘I also realise that you seem to have had more than your fair share of teasing from some of the young men on the ward. They seem to regard you as particularly good sport, so I’ve heard?’

Dora allowed herself to look up at Sister Blake. Her brown eyes were full of sympathy.

‘You do realise they only pick on you because they know they can get a reaction? If you can manage to conceal your feelings and laugh it off, the teasing may stop.’ Sister Blake laid a hand on her arm. ‘Try to play them at their own game, Doyle. For your own sake,’ she advised. ‘I would hate to have to put this incident in the ward report.’

Dora thought about her words all the way through dinner. As the other pros excitedly swapped stories of their experiences on the wards, she sat mute with misery. If she didn’t buck up her ideas, she would never be a nurse. But how could she ever overcome her terror of touching a man’s body? If she wasn’t careful, Alf Doyle’s poison was going to seep in and infect her future, just as he’d infected her past.

The sound of laughter from the far end of the table made her look up. She saw Lucy Lane’s face and realised the joke was directed at her.

‘O’Hara’s been telling us about your latest mess in Male Orthopaedics,’ she announced down the length of the table. ‘Really, Doyle, how do you expect to make a nurse if you can’t even give someone a bottle?’

Dora stared at her coldly. She knew they would never be friends, but had hoped after saving Lucy’s bacon during the PTS exam that the other girl might