Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans Page 9

  ‘I’m afraid it’s Sister Beatrice,’ Angela told her, and saw the shock in her face. She turned pale and sat down, staring as if she’d seen a ghost. ‘I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself, Muriel. The doctor thinks she has acute appendicitis and will need an emergency operation.’

  ‘God have mercy! My niece’s youngest daughter had that – it burst and she died. They couldn’t do nothin’ for her – pray God, Sister don’t go the same. Whatever shall we do without her?’

  ‘We shall have to manage as best we can until she comes back,’ Angela said calmly. ‘We have good nurses in Michelle and Wendy, and Paula too. I’m sure we shall manage.’

  ‘But Sister is always here,’ Muriel said. ‘We all turn to her when we need her. Does Nan know? She’ll be dreadfully upset. She’s very fond of Sister – as am I.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure everyone is,’ Angela said. ‘But if we all continue to do our jobs as normal we shall manage. Hopefully it won’t be for too long.’ Angela believed this, though she knew there would be no time for any extras, like the party to celebrate the opening of the new wing; that would have to be cancelled now.

  ‘It might be for the best,’ Cook said dolefully, dabbing at her eyes with her white apron that was smeared with some kind of sauce. ‘I don’t like the sound of it, though – emergency operation isn’t good, Angela. It isn’t good at all …’

  ‘No, it’s very upsetting,’ Angela said. ‘But I assure you, I can manage the office work as usual and the nurses will all do their duty.’

  ‘But Sister tells me what to cook for the children – some of them have special diets and she’s always the one that works out what’s right for them. I’ll do my best, but I’m not sure I can manage without her guidance …’

  ‘I will consult with Michelle or Wendy and tell you what’s needed.’ Angela sighed inwardly. Sister Beatrice had no doubt been a tower of strength, but there was no reason things should collapse because she’d been taken ill. ‘I dare say Sister has a record of things like that in her office.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ Cook said. ‘But it won’t be the same. We discuss all the menus over a cup of tea and a slice of my best fatless sponge and … oh well, I suppose we’ll manage somehow.’ She sighed heavily. ‘But if anything should happen …’

  Angela suppressed a feeling of irritation. She’d thought Muriel was her friend, but it seemed that old loyalties were the strongest. She would simply have to show them all that she was perfectly capable of managing at St Saviour’s without Sister’s help.

  ‘We must pray Sister returns to us soon,’ she said. ‘I’d better go and find Nan – she’ll be terribly upset if she learns of Sister’s illness from somewhere else …’

  ‘I knew something was wrong with her,’ Nan said after Angela had persuaded her to sit down and have a cup of tea with her in the staff room. ‘I sensed it and she looked so tired – but I thought that she might not have been sleeping because of what happened with Terry. She still blames herself, even now …’

  ‘Sister has been tired and anxious of late,’ agreed Angela. ‘I suspect she’s been suffering nagging pains for a while but carried on working regardless when she ought to have gone to the doctor.’

  ‘Beatrice is like that,’ Nan said. ‘She holds things inside, won’t give in to whatever is upsetting her. She went through a terrible time as a young woman, before she joined the nuns, and I imagine she got used to hiding pain. I didn’t know her back then, but she’s told me a few things over the years … I do know she was married for a time, and I believe there was a child, but I can’t say more than that.’

  Angela didn’t press her for details, even though the news that Sister had been married came as a considerable surprise. Occasionally she had wondered what Sister’s life had been like before she became a nun, but it had never occurred to her that Beatrice might have been married. Though she told herself it was none of her business what terrible sorrow had driven Beatrice to give up all worldly things and enter a convent, she couldn’t help wishing she knew more – perhaps if she understood more of why Sister was so passionate about her work at St Saviour’s and why she felt that Angela was trying to undermine her role when all she wanted was to help, then she would know how to reassure her that was not the case.

  ‘Let’s hope that holding back won’t have cost her her life,’ Angela said.

  ‘I don’t know what we would do without her,’ Nan said in a mournful tone. ‘I know you do a lot of the office work now, Angela, but … everyone respects Sister Beatrice: the nurses and carers, children – and the locals too. So many people stop her when she goes out, asking for her help. And every month she goes into the slums to visit families and check their health and give advice, making sure mothers know how to sterilise the babies’ bottles – lots of small but significant things like that.’

  ‘Thankfully, those visits won’t be necessary now that Mr Bevan has won the doctors round and free health care is available to everyone on the National Health Service. Those poor families can call the doctor out now without having to worry how they’ll find the money to pay him.’

  ‘A lot of people don’t know about the changes, and even some of those that do still refuse to go to a doctor or hospital – they don’t trust them, or they’re too embarrassed.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’ said Angela, incredulous.

  ‘You don’t understand, Angela. The conditions some of these people live in are so awful that they’re ashamed to have the doctor out. Some of the mothers can’t even wash their children’s clothes because they don’t have others to put on them while they dry. Beatrice takes the poorest families a few clothes, boots and shoes, and anything else that comes her way. They rely on her for so much. She gives them food sometimes, buys it out of her stipend – and that’s not much, I can tell you, but she says she doesn’t need anything for herself. She’d give the food off her own plate if necessary. They don’t think of it as charity from her; they trust her; she represents the Church and that’s different to all the officials the government send round. People hate being told they’ve got to fill in a form if they want an extra five bob a week; what the Church gives is offered without question or criticism … only it isn’t the Church, it’s Sister Beatrice and Father Joe.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Angela said, chastened. ‘I hadn’t realised that things were quite that bad these days. I thought all that belonged to Victorian times when the children went barefoot.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps you did,’ Nan said, though she didn’t sound critical of Angela. ‘I know you do as much as you can for the charities you help, but how many slum houses have you actually visited?’

  ‘Only a few that were going to be pulled down – and they were mostly empty.’

  ‘Well, you should visit a family and see what they have to put up with,’ Nan advised.

  ‘I was going to ask Dr Kent to visit Kelly’s mother,’ Angela said. ‘I told her I’d go with him, but I haven’t had time. I’ll telephone him later and arrange it.’

  ‘You’ll have more idea of the good Sister Beatrice has done then.’ Nan smiled at her. ‘You’ve done really well here, Angela. I know Beatrice finds it easier than before – and I know you have a good heart – but you should see some of those families. You wouldn’t believe the poverty that still exists in places. I know things are slowly getting better, but it will take years to rehouse all those who need it. The shortage of housing means that more people crowd into the houses that are available. Beatrice told me about a house where five Indian families were living, sharing one toilet in the yard and one tap in the kitchen. Can you imagine what would happen if one of the children went down with an infectious illness?’

  Angela nodded. ‘It would spread to them all. That is truly awful, Nan. I’ve heard stories, but I didn’t realise that Sister visited such families,’ Angela said. ‘No wonder Father Joe calls her an Angel. The Angel of Halfpenny Street.’ She smiled and Nan laughed at the memory. Father Joe had waxed lyrical with a heft
y tot of brandy inside him, after he’d been wounded while preventing Terry from stabbing Sister for a second time. ‘Well, I must get on now. I shall telephone the hospital later and find out how Sister is after her operation.’

  ‘I’ll be going round there when I finish work,’ Nan said. ‘Beatrice has been a good friend to me and I couldn’t sleep tonight if I didn’t go myself to see how she is.’

  Angela nodded but didn’t say anything. It had been made clear to her in a short space of time how much the staff here thought of their Warden. It seemed that they were afraid that the wheels would grind to a halt without her, and they clearly didn’t believe Angela could manage alone. Nan had been polite about it, but she obviously thought it impossible for Angela to step into Beatrice’s shoes.

  TWELVE

  Nan left the hospital feeling slightly better than she had when Angela first told her the news. Sister Beatrice had come through the operation and was in the recovery ward. She hadn’t been allowed to see her friend, but the nurse had been kind and told her not to worry.

  ‘Sister Beatrice will recover in time. It was touch and go for a while. If they hadn’t got her in quickly, I’ve no doubt she would have died. There is still a risk of infection, so she may have to stay here a few weeks.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good thing someone was with her when it happened,’ Nan said. ‘Please tell her I called and I shall call again tomorrow.’

  The nurse promised she would let St Saviour’s know when Sister Beatrice recovered from the anaesthetic and Nan went off to catch her bus. She was relieved but couldn’t stop worrying; Beatrice wasn’t out of the woods yet, and if anything happened to her, Nan knew how much she would miss her friend. And it wouldn’t just be a personal loss for her – everyone at St Saviour’s would be distraught.

  It was hard to imagine how any of them would manage at the home if their Sister Beatrice didn’t come back to them. Nan didn’t think anyone realised how much they all relied on their Warden. It wasn’t so much what she did, as the fact that she was there – solid and reassuring. The death of her husband and son from diphtheria had almost destroyed Nan, but her friendship with Beatrice had pulled her through, restoring her will to live. And it was Beatrice as much as Nan’s friend Eddie Charles who’d helped her see that she must accept her daughter Maisie’s decision to enter a convent.

  Nan’s eyes stung with tears as she walked towards the bus stop through the gathering dusk. The dimly lit streets were shabby but even at this hour there were always people about, some of them with no home but a shop doorway or a cardboard box under the arches. Sometimes she dreaded returning to her home, even though she was so comfortable in her prefab. The nights could be long and lonely, despite the friends she’d made, but though she’d had years to get used to being on her own, she still missed her husband and son and Maisie. At least her last visit to the convent had shown her that her daughter was well and happy. Yet leaving her in that cold cheerless place had wrenched at her heart. Nan had longed to have her daughter home but she’d reconciled herself to the fact that Maisie was Sister Mary now and it was what she wanted. Nan had no family left, though she and her friend Eddie had decided to adopt Alice’s child as their grandchild, in a manner of speaking. Eddie had suggested it in one of his letters and told her that he’d already started making wooden toys for the baby, which made Nan hope that he’d decided against moving to the country permanently. If Eddie decided to stay with his family and work in their shop, Nan would have felt his loss far more than she’d believed possible.

  Nan’s job at St Saviour’s was a huge part of her life now, but if they had a new warden, she might have her own ideas – and Nan could find herself looking for another job.

  No, she wouldn’t consider that possibility; it would mean Beatrice was no longer able to work and that would be a tragedy for her friend. Nan would not dwell on her own loneliness: Beatrice was the one that mattered now …

  Reaching her home, she let herself in with a sigh of relief. It was good to be settled in a place she could call her own. She was about to heat some milk for her bedtime drink when the doorbell rang. Nan hesitated before going to answer it. Who could it be at this hour?

  She answered the door tentatively, poking her head round to see who it was, and then wider as she recognised the woman who lived next door.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ she said, ‘but this was delivered for you a couple of hours ago. The florist’s boy was going to leave it on the doorstep, but I thought it might get pinched so I took it in.’

  ‘Oh, how kind of you,’ Nan said and took the gorgeous bouquet of roses and scented stocks. ‘Thank you so much. I should have hated it to get lost.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I thought,’ her neighbour said. ‘You were a bit late home tonight, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I went to see a friend in hospital.’

  ‘Oh, well, it’s a good thing I happened to see the delivery boy. Goodnight then, Nan.’

  Nan took the flowers inside. The perfume was lovely and she knew even before she opened the envelope that it could only have come from one person.

  ‘Happy Birthday, dear Nan,’ the card read. ‘I can’t be with you tomorrow, but I shall see you next weekend. I’ll be in touch before then, Eddie.’

  Suddenly, the world seemed much brighter. Eddie hadn’t forgotten it was her birthday tomorrow. Most years she celebrated with a glass of sherry and a slice of birthday cake with Beatrice, but tomorrow she would be on her own.

  A smile touched her mouth. She was too old to be silly over birthdays. She would put these lovely flowers into water and then make herself that cup of cocoa and go to bed.

  Angela sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair before retiring. She’d been shocked by Sister’s collapse, but the more she thought about it the more obvious it was that something had been wrong the last few weeks. She was on the point of getting into bed when she recalled Sister’s rather cryptic message about the twins. It had all been a bit hectic and she couldn’t quite recall what Sister had said … something to do with their aunt. She shook her head; it was all jumbled up with Sister being taken off to hospital and everyone’s reaction.

  Sighing, Angela switched off the light. She refused to be annoyed despite everyone seeming to doubt her ability to cope. Naturally, she couldn’t help on the nursing side, but Michelle, Wendy and Paula were capable of looking after their patients and they could always call in the doctor if in doubt. Everything would be perfectly all right, she thought as she closed her eyes. Most of the work was routine after all …

  Sleep eluded her, her thoughts returning to earlier that evening when she’d visited Kelly’s home with Dr Kent.

  He had been only too pleased to accompany her and to examine the girl’s mother, confirming that she had a weak chest with a tendency to bronchitis and that the dampness of her home was contributing to her poor state of health.

  Kelly had shown them where her mother slept and the large patches of mildew on the walls and ceilings had shocked Angela to the core, especially when Kelly told her that she wiped them over at least once a week.

  ‘It comes back, Mrs Morton,’ she’d said. ‘Whatever Da tries, it just comes back.’

  ‘These old houses ought to be pulled down,’ Dr Kent told Angela when they left the Masons’ home later. ‘It’s no wonder Mrs Mason is ill. Her heart condition makes her more vulnerable and I think she may have some mucus on her lungs. Left untreated, she could end up with pneumonia. I shall book an appointment for her to have tests. And I’ll draw up that report for you, Mrs Morton – though I’m not sure what good it will do. I dare say she isn’t the only one in desperate need of a decent home around here.’

  ‘I’m on the board of a housing charity,’ Angela said. ‘I do their secretarial work for free and I’m hoping to bring this case to their attention. Twelve houses have been renovated and are almost ready for occupation. With your report to support their case, I think Mrs Mason and her family stand a good chance of getting
one.’

  Dr Kent looked at her in surprise. ‘Well, if you can manage that, I take my hat off to you, Mrs Morton. I’ve been badgering the council on behalf of another patient, but they tell me there’s a wait of at least a year.’

  ‘Perhaps the housing charity can do better,’ Angela had replied. She’d seen disbelief in his eyes, but she had contributed to the charity in more ways than one and if she had any influence at all, she would make sure these worthy cases were at least considered for one of the first batch of renovated houses … Smiling at the thought, she snuggled down into her pillows and drifted into sleep.

  THIRTEEN

  The telephone rang in Sister’s office as Angela reached it the next morning. She picked it up, listening to the crisp and rather cold tones of the voice on the other end.

  ‘May I speak with Sister Beatrice please?’

  ‘I’m afraid she isn’t here. I am Mrs Morton, the Administrator – may I help you?’

  ‘Yes, I dare say you can,’ the voice went on. ‘I am Miss Sampson from Children’s Welfare. I’m ringing to confirm that Miss Jane May will be taking the May twins this afternoon. She will call at two o’clock. Please have them ready for her.’

  The phone snapped off at the other end, leaving Angela staring at it in dismay. It was very short notice and she wasn’t sure how the twins would take the news that they were being fetched by their aunt.

  Angela made a brief search of the papers on Sister’s desk but found nothing to help her concerning the twins – yet perhaps it was what Sister had been trying to say when she was struck down. Had she known that the aunt was applying to remove them from their care? She hadn’t mentioned the fact to Angela, but perhaps she hadn’t got round to it when she was taken ill. As far as Angela was aware, Sister hadn’t been consulted in the matter by the authorities, but she always seemed to know what was going on without anyone telling her. In this case she may have had her own sources and hadn’t got around to sharing her thoughts with Angela before being overtaken by her illness.