Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans Page 13

  ‘Monthly visits?’ Mark eased the car out into the traffic, frowning as he listened to Angela’s account of the nun’s mercy visits to various poor families in the district. ‘I don’t think that comes within your remit, Angela. Strictly speaking, it isn’t part of the Warden’s duties. Sister Beatrice has obviously taken it on herself to help out in her own time.’

  ‘So you don’t think I should visit these families in her stead?’

  ‘Not unless you feel confident,’ he said. ‘Have you been to see Sister Beatrice – consulted her as to her wishes in the matter?’

  ‘Nan says she’s still quite unwell and not up to visitors. I don’t want to bother her – but that isn’t what I wanted to ask you about.’

  ‘No? Fire away then,’ he said. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that Henry Arnold was being offered a seat on the Board of St Saviour’s?’

  ‘I didn’t know myself until I was asked what I thought. It happened very quickly. Arnold is a major contributor to the charity, so we thought he ought to be asked, considering the large donation he offered.’

  ‘I’m ready to make the contribution I mentioned to you a few months ago,’ Angela said. ‘Shall I be offered a seat?’

  ‘Are you requesting it?’ Mark sounded surprised. ‘I didn’t think you wanted the bother?’

  ‘I don’t trust Mr Arnold.’

  ‘Is this feminine intuition, or do you have a good reason for your suspicions? And if so, may I know what they are?’

  ‘I can’t put it into words. I suppose you could say it was intuition,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘He coerced me into having dinner with him the other evening – and it turns out he wants to build a new and I imagine expensive home in the country and move St Saviour’s.’

  ‘Yes, he has put a proposition in writing to the Board,’ Mark said, glancing at her as he indicated and then turned off on to the road leading to one of his favourite restaurants. ‘It isn’t set in stone by any means, Angela.’

  ‘But you think it’s a good idea to move away from Halfpenny Street … from London?’

  ‘Don’t you – eventually?’

  ‘I can see why it would be considered a step forward – in time,’ she agreed. ‘But I know that many of our children would resent being taken out of London – as would the staff. I’m not sure that either Nan or Sister Beatrice would care for the idea …’

  ‘No, I’m certain they wouldn’t. But as the population grows and traffic intensifies London is only going to get busier, dirtier and the air more polluted … surely the country will be a better environment for children who’ve only ever known poverty and the squalid conditions of the slums?’

  ‘Even if I agreed that might be the way to go in the future …’ Angela paused as he drew up outside the ancient inn by the river and stopped the engine ‘… seriously, Mark, I don’t think it would be sensible to trust everything Mr Arnold says.’

  ‘Your instincts are usually good,’ Mark said, looking thoughtful. ‘It might be worth doing a bit more investigating – but Arnold is entitled to that seat after the amount he donated. I’m sure the Board would agree that you are too, once you make the donation.’

  ‘I’ll send the cheque in the morning, together with my request. As Administrator I think I should have a say in policy-making – and I think Sister Beatrice should be invited to join the Board too.’

  ‘I doubt she’d be interested,’ Mark said. ‘She finds the monthly meetings a chore and prefers to leave them to you.’ He quirked an amused eyebrow at her. ‘Hoping for an ally to help you block a future move, Angela?’

  ‘Would you vote for it regardless of my views?’

  ‘I haven’t said I’m definitely for it, though I have some ideas of my own.’ Mark leaned in closer, his breath warm on her face as he touched her hand. ‘I certainly wouldn’t want this to come between us,’ he said. ‘You know I value your opinion, Angela. Your friendship means a great deal to me and I would always listen to your arguments – just as I hope you would consider mine.’

  His touch made her heart miss a beat and her breath caught as she felt something spark between them. She knew instinctively that Mark was ready to move forward in their relationship, and she believed she might be too. At last she could contemplate loving a man again, and the sexual tension was there between them in that moment. She felt it and welcomed it, her mouth slightly dry and the slow rhythm of her heart like a drum beat, as if she were being drawn from the darkness into the light.

  Angela hesitated, and then smiled and squeezed his arm. ‘You mean a great deal to me too, Mark. I would hate to lose you – but I have a bad feeling about this business with Mr Arnold. I know he speaks highly of St Saviour’s and appears to be genuine in his concern for the children, yet I cannot shake off the suspicion he has an ulterior motive, even though it’s hard to see what’s in it for him. He referred to St Saviour’s as his home, and more or less offered me the post of Warden. I felt as if he were trying to bribe me – as if he were riding roughshod over the rest of you.’

  ‘In a few years, if you still wanted it, I’d probably recommend you for the post of Warden,’ Mark said. When Angela shook her head, he raised his eyebrows. ‘You wouldn’t want that?’

  ‘I am suited to the role of Administrator – I get things done, and I’m good at raising funds – but you need someone like Sister Beatrice at the helm. Aside from the fact her nursing experience is invaluable, she has an understanding of the children and people of London that comes from intimate knowledge of what they’ve suffered. I love the children, and I spend as much time with them as I can, but I doubt they could ever trust me the way they trust her. Besides, it’s too much work for one person, especially now we have the new wing.’

  ‘It sounds as though you admire Sister Beatrice.’

  ‘Yes, of course – don’t you?’ Angela blushed as his eyes quizzed her. ‘That doesn’t mean that we shan’t end up arguing once she’s fighting fit again – I’ve no doubt we shall – but I do know that she does a good job.’

  ‘I think the two of you make an excellent team. Although marvellous in her way, Beatrice was struggling to cope until you arrived – St Saviour’s was stagnating, behind the times. We had to bring it up to date, move foward. And once the country gets through this austerity period, the pace of change is only going to pick up. You’ve done a lot since you arrived, gone a part of the way there, but there’s so much more to do. The NHS will revolutionise health care in this country. It is my belief and hope that the life of the working man will also improve. Yet some evils will never go away; men will go on getting drunk and beating their wives or abusing their children. We need to create a safe environment for those youngsters – and we could take on more in the space and freedom the countryside offers.’

  ‘Yes, but in Halfpenny Street, St Saviour’s is right at the heart of the need …’

  Mark had come round to the side of the car; he offered his hand and she took it, gliding elegantly from the car. For a moment as he looked down at her she thought he might kiss her and found that she was hoping he would, but he merely smiled, closed the car door and offered her his arm.

  ‘Shall we forget work for once and enjoy ourselves, Angela? I know you’re passionate about St Saviour’s and I’m glad it has turned out so well for you – but I’d rather like to talk about us for once.’

  ‘Oh?’ Angela looked up at him as they walked towards the lights and warmth of the restaurant. ‘We are still friends, I hope?’

  ‘Yes, of course, and always will be – but I was hoping there might be something more. I know you loved John, and I was frightened of speaking out for a long time – too long, but I should like to clear the air. I care for you a great deal and I’d like us to be more than friends one day …’

  ‘And Carole?’ Angela gave him a questioning look. ‘You have no regrets? I thought perhaps you felt something for her?’

  ‘It was an affair, nothing more. To my shame, I used her �
� she was young and pretty and seemed to like me. I was flattered … and you didn’t seem interested. I thought your heart might be set on Nick Hadden?’

  ‘Only as a friend,’ Angela replied. ‘I’m not sure you used Carole, Mark. I think it was the other way round: she knew you were comfortably off and she wanted the prestige of being your wife. It was a rotten trick she played, lying about being pregnant with your child.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ he agreed ruefully. ‘Fortunately, you were not taken in by her.’

  ‘I might have been if she hadn’t tried to sabotage Sister Beatrice.’ Angela smiled. ‘I’m pleased you weren’t hurt by her, Mark.’

  ‘As I said, it was merely a flirtation – and you and I seemed to have drifted apart. I suppose I felt shut out, which is why I got involved with Carole.’

  ‘Did I shut you out?’ Angela gazed deeply into his eyes.

  ‘You were angry with me because I didn’t tell you that your mother was ill, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘That was unfair of me, Mark. I know you can’t talk about your patients.’

  ‘Your mother particularly asked me not to speak of it to you. I did ask if you were going home last Christmas – if you’d said no, I would have told you that you ought to. That was as much as I could do. The truth had to come from your mother, or your father.’

  ‘Father wouldn’t have told me if he hadn’t needed help with the fees for the clinic in Switzerland,’ Angela said, feeling a shadow pass over her. ‘She has left there, did you know?’

  ‘Yes, I was informed as a matter of courtesy by the clinic.’

  ‘Dad says she’s going to stay with a friend in his villa in France … It isn’t fair on him. Did you know he has a heart problem?’

  ‘Yes. He has asked my advice …’ Mark’s hand reached for hers. ‘Again, I was asked in confidence. I’m sorry, Angela, I know it’s all been pretty rotten for you since John died. The split between your parents is awful, especially at a time when your father needs someone.’

  ‘I’m so angry with her. I’d like to go over there and tell her what she’s done to him – but of course I can’t.’

  ‘Perhaps she had her reasons,’ Mark said. ‘A marriage fails over several years and for many reasons. Mine failed after my son died, but perhaps it was falling apart long before that … I’ve always wondered if Edine felt that I’d let her down, failed her in some way.’

  ‘I’m sure you did everything you could to help her.’

  ‘Perhaps …’ His strong features reflected vulnerability, as if the past hurt too much to be reopened. ‘Thank you for believing in me, Angela – but every one of us has something in our past that we regret, do we not?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right,’ she agreed. ‘Tell me, how is that friend you were anxious about? Is he recovering from his operations?’

  ‘Yes, though I fear that he may find life harder to cope with now … it looks as if he may be physically impaired. For a man like Alan, that is worse than you can imagine. His music means everything to him, and he may never again play as he once could – oh, he can make music, but for an artist like him that isn’t enough. I feel guilty, and yet the advice I gave him was the best I could offer in the circumstances.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, but I know you will help him all you can.’

  ‘I will indeed. Yet I wonder if that is enough …’

  The lights were soft and discreet as they entered the restaurant. As she took her seat opposite Mark, Angela was unaware of the man rising to his feet a few tables away, having just paid his bill. Although she didn’t see him as he escorted his very pretty blonde companion from the dining room, Henry Arnold observed Angela laughing at something Mark had said to her.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve decided that you like and admire Sister Beatrice,’ Mark said after he’d ordered their meal. ‘I’ve always thought she was an excellent nurse …’

  ‘I certainly admire her and appreciate what she does,’ Angela said with a little grimace. ‘But as to liking her … well, I think the jury is out on that, and I’m sure she feels the same way. Before she was admitted to hospital I couldn’t do anything right and I dare say it won’t improve her mood having to stay there for a few weeks.’

  ‘No, perhaps not, but have you ever wondered why she’s so tetchy?’

  ‘It may have had something to do with her feeling ill,’ Angela said.

  ‘Undoubtedly that was a factor, but I think she was also nervous of the future. After all, she isn’t young any more and in you she has a formidable rival.’

  ‘I’m not a rival,’ Angela said. ‘I’ve already told you that I wouldn’t want her job as warden.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mark said and smiled, his brows lifting. ‘But does she know that?’

  SEVENTEEN

  Beatrice’s body ached all over. Her head was throbbing and she felt as weak as a kitten, but at least the pain in her side had gone and she no longer felt that dragging sensation that she’d been vaguely aware of after the operation. It had been as if her limbs were made of lead and it was too much trouble to move, drink or eat. She’d been aware that Nan had visited a couple of times, and her bedside table was bedecked with flowers and cards from the children and staff at St Saviour’s, but everything seemed so distant, as if it was happening in another time, another life. She could only recall having felt like this once previously in her life … but that was so long ago, when she’d reached rock bottom after losing the only thing that mattered: Tommy, her beloved son. She’d never loved her husband, but after Tommy’s death she’d hated him, blaming him for the way her son died …

  She shook her head, refusing to dwell on the unhappiness that had so nearly destroyed her. On that previous occasion when she’d occupied a bed in the Infirmary she’d wished for death, believing that life held nothing for her but emptiness and misery. Then she’d sought the forgiveness and mercy of God, and in return she’d found comfort at the convent. She trained as a nurse and through helping others she’d come to terms with the tragedy that had almost destroyed her. St Saviour’s had given her back the contentment she’d lost all those years ago … giving her love and respect, and lending purpose to a life that had once lost all meaning.

  Beatrice glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight in the evening and she’d had no visitors. Nan had told her she couldn’t come tonight, but Beatrice had expected a visit from Angela. She needed to see her, to hear how things were going at the home – to be reassured that they missed her and needed her back.

  Nan told her these things, but she’d also told her that Angela was managing very well. ‘I never expected she’d cope half as well as she has,’ Nan told her cheerfully. ‘There’s no need for you to worry about rushing back, Beatrice. The doctor said you should take a couple of weeks at the seaside to rest and get your strength back, and I’m sure Angela will be fine.’

  Nan’s intention had been to reassure her, Beatrice knew that, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She needed them to miss her, to be desperate to have her back. Her greatest fear was that the Board would decide she was too old and invite Angela to replace her. What would she do then – return to the convent and work in the Infirmary? But what if they decided she was too old for that, too?

  Hearing a cry from two beds down, Beatrice turned to look at the woman who lay there. Old and homeless, she’d been found lying on the pavement, her body wasted and spent. The nurses whispered that she’d had a stroke and her mind was affected.

  ‘Please help me,’ she cried weakly. ‘My eyes … I can’t see … it’s my eyes …’

  Beatrice looked for a nurse but there were none in sight. Every bed was occupied and the nurses had been rushed off their feet all day. At this hour, they were most likely getting ready for the changeover, the day nurses briefing the night nurses on new admissions to the ward and each patient’s particular needs.

  ‘Please help me … it’s my eyes …’ the pitiful wail stirred Beatrice into action. She swung
her legs over the side of her bed, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment but immediately steadying herself. Discovering that she could walk slowly, she found her way to the woman’s bed and bent over her, touching her hand.

  ‘What is wrong, dear?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, Nurse, will you bathe my eyes?’ the woman pleaded. ‘I can’t see – and it’s so much better when you bathe them.’

  Hesitating for a moment, Beatrice picked up a tissue from the box beside the bed and damped it with water from a jug. It was tepid, because it had been left there all day and in Beatrice’s opinion was not fit to drink. Her patients would not be given liquid that had been standing in the ward all day! She wiped the woman’s eyes a couple of times, soothing with gentle kindness as best she could, and her hand was seized and kissed.

  ‘You’re so kind,’ the old woman said, ‘so kind, Nurse …’

  Beatrice patted her hand and withdrew it. She was feeling decidedly odd as she left the old lady, who had quietened now, and began to walk back to her own bed. Realising vaguely that she was weaving from side to side, Beatrice sighed and sank to the floor in a faint before she could quite reach her bed. The next thing she knew, a nurse was standing over her, scolding her for getting out of bed.

  ‘What did you think you were doing, Sister Beatrice!’ the nurse admonished. ‘You could have opened your stitches and harmed yourself – and after all the trouble Doctor’s gone to, making you better.’