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  Angelina felt her face flush with excitement. Miss Day had taken her seriously.

  Angelina Green would soon be on the next step of her ladder.

  May 1920

  Angelina finished making their egg and watercress sandwiches – Ruby’s favourite Saturday teatime meal – and reached for the tin that held their precious cakes. Removing the lid, she saw that another dozen had been added: tiny orange butterfly sponges, a speciality of Mrs Haines’s. Angelina smiled to herself. It seemed that Miss Jones regularly found some excuse to pop into their house and leave a parcel containing sweet meats of one kind or another, so their tin was never empty for long.

  It was five-thirty. Ruby would be home soon because the last appointment at the salon was always at four o’clock on Saturdays. And as this was Angelina’s weekend off, the two girls had decided to go into town later to see a film, or just to browse the shops. Because of Angelina’s shifts, they didn’t often have the chance to be together like this, and they were both looking forward to it.

  With the table set for their tea, Angelina turned one of the chairs to face the window, then sat down and gazed out. It was a fine evening with summer beckoning, and the exciting prospect of September and what would follow on after that, made her heart rush with anticipation. After several interviews, they had accepted her application at UCL, and now all she wanted to do was to get started, to get on with it! When she had told Miss Kingston the news, the superintendent had been almost speechless with amazement.

  ‘From the moment you arrived here, Angelina,’ she’d said, ‘we all knew you would go far. But really – I did not imagine the heights you were going to achieve. You are a credit to yourself and to us, my dear, living proof that whatever one’s beginnings, nothing is impossible if you work hard and are determined.’ She had hugged Angelina to her tightly. ‘I cannot wait to tell Miss Jones your news, because she is so proud of you and Ruby. She thinks you are such brave and clever little girls – and she is right!’

  But above all the euphoria regarding her future, it was with some relief that Angelina could say that she was happy inside herself once more. She had faced up to her demon and sent it packing, promising herself that she would never again let her heart rule her head, never again wish or hope for the impossible, the unobtainable. She shook her head, irritated at her own thoughts. She must have been completely mad to have thought that she could mean anything to Alexander Garfield. Mad, stupid, and infantile – yes, that’s what she had been – infantile! She’d had a childish dream that one day he would love her as she loved him, but dreams were just that – dreams. They were not reality.

  Angelina lowered her eyes, tracing the pattern on the tablecloth with her forefinger thoughtfully. But had she been entirely to blame in all this? Wasn’t there someone else in this hopeless equation?

  Well, tes! Yes! What had taken place in that field in France had been no dream, it had been reality! With Alexander’s arms around her so closely they’d been like one person, with his lips almost devouring hers, over and over, with him saying, ‘Don’t be sorry because I’m not a bit sorry.’ That had been reality!

  Despite all her best intentions, Angelina’s shoulders drooped. What had that all been about? Had Alexander completely forgotten about it, as if it had never happened? Had he forgotten those two hours they’d spent together with his hand holding hers, refusing to let it go? For the first time in their lives they had talked as two friends, as equals, not just discussing the present situation but exchanging views and opinions about everything under the sun, making each other laugh about little things they remembered when Alexander had come to the orphanage with his father.

  For Angelina, those two hours had been a blissful break from the horror and distress all around, and being there, just the two of them, had felt absolutely right, absolutely perfect.

  And she’d remembered not to call him ‘Mr Alexander’ He had been just Alexander. Her long-time friend.

  Angelina thought about what Miss Kingston had told her of her own experience, and not for the first time, Angelina felt angry. Angry at the injustice of the superintendent’s situation, and of her own, too. It was not fair! Why did a man – any man – play games with the emotional feelings of a woman, and then calmly walk away? Didn’t they realise how it hurt? How it stung?

  Angelina shook herself angrily and stood up. That demon would keep reappearing! But she must take Miss Kingston’s advice and forget all that had happened and look to the future. And that was exactly what Nurse Angelina Green – one day, hopefully, to become Dr Green and eventually Miss Green, in surgeon’s language – was going to do. Forget the past and fix her eyes on the future.

  Could she do that, honestly? Angelina pursed her lips. It was going to be hard, but, as usual, she would do her best.

  *

  It was nearly seven o’clock before Ruby came home, breathless from having run all the way.

  ‘Sorry I’m late!’ she exclaimed, ‘but just before we closed Mr Walker and Robert called in, and we all just stood there, chatting.’ Ruby went across to the sink to wash her hands before going on excitedly. ‘You’ll never guess, Angelina, but I’ve been asked to go to a function with them – with the family!’

  Angelina raised her eyes.

  ‘Really? What sort of function?’

  ‘They explained that it’s to do with the Masons … a sort of gentlemen’s club or ‘Lodge’ to which Mr Walker belongs, and every year they hold a Ladies’ Night which means that members can invite their wives and families.’ Ruby dried her hands and went across to the table to join Angelina who was pouring their tea. ‘Anyway, the thing is, Robert doesn’t have a partner to go with him, and they wondered whether I might like to make up the foursome.’ Ruby sat down and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Honestly, Angelina, I couldn’t believe they would want me … I mean Robert must have plenty of friends at his college that he could ask but Mrs Walker kept insisting that Robert would prefer me to sit beside him, that we know each other very well now – because we never stop chatting whenever he calls in at the salon. She said there would be a very nice meal, and dancing afterwards! And I said the only dance I could do was the waltz because we used to do that in the playroom sometimes … do you remember, Angelina? When we were all messing about?’

  ‘I remember, Ruby,’ Angelina said.

  ‘The thing that’s worrying me is what I am going to wear,’ Ruby went on. ‘Mrs Walker explained that the ladies are usually in long frocks, but that it wouldn’t matter if I wore short. She said that anything simple and summery would do, and Mr Walker said he thought I would look lovely if I just wore a sack!’ Ruby sat back and clasped her hands together. ‘All this has made me feel that I’ve been hit by a whirlwind, Angelina! Why would they invite me – I mean I’m just a member of their staff. No one special …’

  Angelina leaned across and squeezed Ruby’s hand. ‘But you are someone special, Ruby,’ she said, ‘and you always have been. That is why Mrs Walker took you on.’ Angelina paused. ‘And Robert must think you are special, or he wouldn’t have wanted you as his partner.’

  Ruby dropped her gaze. ‘Well, it is true that Robert seems to like me,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve never bothered to tell you before, but on Valentine’s Day he gave me a rose. I didn’t think too much of it because Mr Walker gave Mrs Walker one as well, but when Robert gave me mine he held my hand tightly and wouldn’t let it go!’ Ruby took a deep breath. ‘Do you think I’m being silly, Angelina, because I really, really, like him. From the moment I set eyes on him I knew he was someone I would love being with. Am I being stupid?’

  ‘Of course you aren’t being stupid,’ Angelina said slowly ‘Now, when is this function to take place?’

  ‘On the first Saturday of next month.’

  ‘Good. That gives us three weeks to find you a dress.’ Angelina said briskly. ‘There’s no time like the present, so we start tonight! As soon as we’ve had tea, we’ll go into town and look in all the windows for som
e ideas. The market always has nice material in stock so between us we’ll produce something that will make Robert proud to show you off.’ Angelina smiled. ‘At least you don’t have to find a good hairdresser!’

  Dear Miss Jones,

  I hope you won’t think me impertinent, but I have a great favour to ask. Ruby has been invited by her employers to accompany them to a very special party, and she has nothing suitable to wear. The occasion calls for a long dress, and of course Ruby does not have one. At first, I thought she and I could make one between us, but you know, more than anyone, that our needlework lessons at the orphanage did not run to cutting out from a long length of material – and then making a dress to fit in all the right places! Would you do it for us – for Ruby? We have enough money to buy quite a nice material – we’ve already looked in the market – and the pattern would only need to be a simple one. All we need is your magic needle, if you have the time.

  Ruby and I would quite understand if you are too busy.

  The party is to take place in just under three weeks.

  Yours sincerely,

  Angelina

  Chapter 20

  July 1920

  Senior Nurse Green slowly accompanied the doctor as he visited each patient in the women’s medical ward. It was a routine procedure which took place a couple of times a week, its purpose to examine the notes at the foot of each bed, and to discuss the progress, or otherwise, of each woman.

  As always, Angelina was able to answer any query the doctor might have with no problem – she had been in charge of this ward since her return from the Front, and knew all her patients and their specific needs without having to continually refer to their records. As it had been with her soldiers, while the sick were in her care, they were her family.

  The doctor finished his rounds and left the ward, and Angelina returned to her desk. As she sat there in the quiet, immaculately hygienic surroundings, she could not stop her mind from returning to France … to the noise … to the mud and squalor … to the filth … the terror. How had she come through all that, relatively unscathed? And why hadn’t Heather come home with them?

  Angelina stopped what she was doing for a moment, and put down her pen, aware that among all those thoughts was a more surprising one. She was missing those awful days, actually missing them. How could that possibly be? To get away from all that, and come home safe and sound had been everyone’s overriding wish, yet looking back on it, she realised what a wonderful time, what a wonderful experience it had been. All the friends she’d made – not necessarily close friends, but friends united in a common purpose, looking out for each other, looking after each other. It had been teamwork to a degree she would surely never again experience, and Angelina was grateful. She had learned so much about others, and so much about herself. In its own strange way, being there fighting a war alongside her fellow nurses had been a privilege, and she would never forget a single bit of it.

  Just then, one of the orderlies arrived with details of an urgent case about to be admitted from Accident & Emergency, and glancing down at the papers she’d been given, Angelina frowned. Someone called Valentina Marshall was about to occupy the only vacant bed on the ward – surely this had to be Mrs Marshall from the orphanage? Once, when Angelina had been in the kitchen she’d overheard Mrs. Marshall reveal her unusual Christian name to Mrs. Haines – who’d received the information with a raised eyebrow. But Angelina he remembered being told that Mrs Marshall had had some time off over the last few months because she hadn’t been feeling well.

  It was Mrs Marshall, but when she was wheeled in on the trolley it took Angelina by surprise. The woman looked gaunt and grey and so much older than she used to look. Angelina went over to speak to her.

  ‘Hello Mrs Marshall,’ Angelina said quietly. ‘Now, what have you been doing to yourself may I ask?’

  Mrs Marshall smiled faintly, grasping Angelina’s hand. ‘Oh Angelina,’ she said, ‘I never expected to have to come to hospital … I mean, I’m never ill. You know that. But I can’t get rid of this wretched cough and I’ve been finding it difficult to breathe – especially at night.’

  As if to prove the point, she began wheezing and coughing, and it was obvious that she was in considerable pain.

  Angelina squeezed her hand sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry, you’ve come to the right place,’ she said. ‘We’ll soon make you more comfy.’

  Without looking at Angelina, Mrs Marshall said, ‘I had no idea they’d be keeping me in overnight. I thought it would be a quick examination downstairs and then I’d be given some tablets to take home with me.’ She paused. ‘But if I had to stay, I was hoping I’d be on your ward, Angelina.’

  Angelina smiled at that. After all, she had never been Mrs Marshall’s favourite child. Just then, the emergency doctor arrived and Angelina went over to the desk with him for a discussion about their new patient.

  ‘I’m afraid it does look like another TB case,’ the doctor said, ‘rather than the dreaded flu – which was our first thought. We shall have to wait for the X-rays.’

  Angelina nodded. ‘So, obviously, Mrs Marshall needs to go straight into the isolation side ward? And luckily here is a bed available,’ Angelina added.

  ‘Good – thanks.’ As he turned to leave, the doctor said, ‘May I wish you good luck, Nurse Green? In your next venture I mean.’ Angelina had become very well-known at St Thomas’s. Everyone knew she was leaving, and everyone knew she had been one of the heroic front line nurses.

  Angelina smiled quickly. ‘Thanks – I’m looking forward to it.’

  *

  Angelina’s shift was to finish at nine o’clock, and she wasn’t due back on the ward until midday tomorrow, so she was going to spend the night in her own bed. This was quite a treat, especially as it gave her and Ruby the chance to go on talking, however late it was, before they finally fell asleep. Neither of them were ever short of anecdotes about their working day, and Ruby’s experiences in the salon were always worth hearing about. She had a funny way of mimicking some of their clients, and to Angelina it seemed a happy, breezy, way of earning a living.

  It was eight o’clock – one hour to go before her relief took over – and Angelina sat back and stretched her arms above her head. The last hour was always the longest.

  The ward was quiet, all the medications had been administered, and most of the patients were asleep. And as Angelina’s thoughts wandered, she remembered again how beautiful Ruby had looked in the dress which Miss Jones had made for her.

  The day after Angelina’s letter had arrived at the orphanage, Miss Jones had come to the house, full of ideas and enthusiasm. It had only been Ruby there at the time, but Ruby had described the visit in detail.

  ‘Of course I am not too busy to make either of you a dress!’ Miss Jones had exclaimed. ‘I shall make you look like a princess, Ruby. Leave it to me!’

  And when the great day arrived and Ruby had put on the dress and presented her appearance for Angelina’s inspection, Angelina – only just having come home from work – had been almost bowled over.

  The dress was a simple, full-length creation in a soft lavender-coloured silky material, its scooped neckline showing off Ruby’s fine skin, its dropped waistline, with a large bow at the hip, accentuating her graceful figure. Ruby had trained most of her unruly fair curls to remain firmly clipped to the top of her head, while allowing just one or two fronds to stray prettily either side of her face.

  For a few seconds, Angelina had remained speechless. Miss Jones had been as good as her word. Little Ruby Lane did indeed look like a princess.

  When Robert Walker had arrived at their door to escort Ruby to the car waiting outside, Angelina had thought she was watching a fairy tale take place. Robert, a tall, dark-haired young man was wearing a dinner jacket, white shirt and black bow tie, and as he’d looked at Ruby it was obvious that he was enchanted. As well he might be, Angelina had thought. Miss Jones had woven another of her magic spells.

 
Thinking about that now, Angelina was ashamed to admit that, at the time, she had been envious of Ruby. Really envious. Because she had wished that it was she going to that party – with Alexander – and that Alexander had been looking down at her in the way in which Robert Walker had gazed at Ruby. He had taken her hand straightaway, and held it, like Angelina remembered hers being held. Then, and now, it had seemed like a physical statement of ownership, and it was obvious that Ruby had been starry-eyed as she’d looked up at Robert.

  Now, Angelina sighed at all her memories. Whatever else life might give you, why was there always one more thing that you wanted? She had yearned to be a nurse, and she was one, fully qualified. She’d wanted to go much further in her medical career, and that wish, too, was being granted. Yet there was still one more thing she longed for.

  It was to be with the one person she had always loved. And would, for the rest of her life.

  Yet that was where her luck had run out. She could never be Alexander Garfield’s wife. It had been written in the stars.

  Just before her relief arrived to take over, Angelina went into the isolation ward to check on her four patients. Three of them were sleeping fitfully, but Mrs Marshall appeared to be awake, and she smiled faintly as Angelina approached.

  ‘I don’t think those tablets you gave me are working, Angelina,’ Mrs Marshall whispered. ‘Can I have some more?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Angelina replied softly, ‘but the next round of medication is due in an hour.’ She paused. ‘Try and relax – you will start to feel batter in a day or two.’ Angelina sighed inwardly. She hoped Mrs Marshall hadn’t left it too late before seeking help.