The
spring of 1937 sees a new intake of student nurses at the Nightingale hospital
in East London. Among them is Effie O’Hara, a fun-loving country girl. She’s
looking forward to experiencing the bright lights of London. But with her older sisters watching over her,
how can she escape the confines of hospital life?
She finds an unlikely ally in Jess Jago, the new maid
at the nurses’ home. Like Effie, Jess is looking for a new start. But it isn’t
long before her past catches up with her…
Meanwhile, East End girl Dora Doyle once again finds
herself at odds with spoilt fellow student Lucy Lane. But as the girls face
dark times, they begin to realise their worst enemy can also be their best
friend...
Excerpt
‘Your duties will begin at five o’clock sharp,
when you will lay the fires, draw the curtains and make sure the boiler is lit.
You will then wake me at precisely five-thirty with a cup of tea and my
breakfast. I like two boiled eggs and buttered toast. Lightly boiled, mind. I
can’t abide eggs like rubber.’
The
fearsome Home Sister glared at Jess as if she doubted she could ever be equal
to such a task. Jess smiled back, her tongue rammed in her cheek to stop
herself from speaking out of turn. She didn’t want to lose this job before
she’d managed to get it.
‘At
six o’clock you must wake the students,’ Sister Sutton went on. ‘Once they have
gone, you will clean the bathrooms, sweep, dust and polish all the halls and
stairs, and clean the students’ sitting room. The nurses are supposed to keep
it tidy, but they tend to be rather careless.’ Her bulbous nose wrinkled with
distaste. ‘I will carry out my room inspection at midday, so I expect
everything to be in order by then.’ She stared at Jess, her eyes as tiny and
dark as raisins in her doughy face. ‘You have been in service, you say?’
Jess
nodded. ‘Since I was thirteen.’ Although
none of the houses where she had been employed as a maid of all work were
anywhere near as big as the student nurses’ home. With its grand entrance,
sweeping staircase and long passages, it was like one of the country mansions
she had read about in her favourite Jane Austen books. Except there were no
works of art on the drab, brown-painted walls, and the floors were covered in
polished lino and not Turkish rugs. But the ornate plasterwork on the high
ceilings still whispered of the house’s elegant past.
As
the Home Sister continued to list the maid’s duties, Jess gazed up at the
twisting plaster vine leaves and carved bunches of grapes and wondered how she
would ever be able to reach up there with a duster.
‘Are
you listening to me, girl?’ Sister Sutton’s sharp voice interrupted her
thoughts. ‘I hope you’re not daydreaming? I have no time for daydreamers.’
‘No,
Miss. Sorry, Miss.’
‘Please
address me as Sister.’
‘Yes,
Miss – I mean, Sister.’
Jess
bobbed her head. She wasn’t easily intimidated, but Sister Sutton seemed as
imposing as the house she presided over. She wasn’t much taller than Jess, but
at least three times as wide, her severe grey uniform stretched over her solid
bulk. Wisps of wiry hair escaped from beneath her starched white bonnet, tied
in a bow amid her quivering chins. A Jack Russell terrier pranced around her
feet, yapping up at Jess. The din filled the echoing passageway where they
stood, but Sister Sutton seemed oblivious to it.
‘It
says in your references that you’re a hard worker and quick to learn.’ The Home
Sister looked doubtful as she consulted the papers in her hand.
‘I
am, Miss – Sister.’
‘Your
previous employer seemed very satisfied with you. So why did you want to
leave?’
‘I
wanted a live-in job, Sister.’
‘Really?’
Sister Sutton’s brows rose. ‘Most young girls seem to want to live out these
days.’
Most
young girls don’t come from where I do, Jess thought. ‘I would prefer to live
in,’ was all she said.
Before
Sister Sutton could ask any more, Jess turned her attention to the dog. She
bent to stroke it but it lunged forward, snapping at her outstretched fingers.
She snatched her hand back sharply.
‘I
wouldn’t do that if I were you. Sparky is very fussy about people,’ Sister
Sutton said.
Jess
eyed the dog. He stared straight back at her with hostile black eyes, as if he
knew exactly who she was and where she had come from.
The
front door opened and two students came in, chattering together. As soon as
they spotted Sister Sutton they froze and fell instantly silent. They tried to
slink towards the stairs, but Sister Sutton wheeled round to confront them.
‘You
two! Where do you think you’re going?’ she demanded.
The
girls exchanged nervous glances. They weren’t much older than Jess, one pretty
and blue-eyed with dark curls, the other brown-haired and sharp-featured, her
neat nose pointing skywards.
‘Please,
Sister, it’s eleven o’clock,’ the dark-haired girl stammered. She had a lilting
Irish accent that was as sweet as her round face.
‘I
can tell the time perfectly well, thank you very much. Why aren’t you on your
wards?’
‘We’ve
been sent off duty until one, Sister,’ the other student explained. Her voice
was clear and crisp, each syllable perfectly pronounced, like one of the lady
announcers on the wireless.
‘I
see. Why couldn’t you have said that, O’Hara?’ Sister Sutton swung her bulk
around to face the Irish girl again.
‘I
– I – sorry, Sister,’ she mumbled.
‘I
should think so, too. And look at the state of you. Crumpled apron, grubby
collar – and is that a pin I see sticking out of your cap?’ She drew in a sharp
breath. ‘Tidy yourself up immediately or I shall cancel your half-day off.’
‘Yes,
Sister.’
Jess
stared at the Irish girl as she fumbled with her cap, a blush rising in her
face, unable to see why Sister Sutton was making so much fuss. The girl looked
immaculate to Jess, in her blue-and-white striped dress and spotless apron. But
she couldn’t imagine how thick and itchy that heavy fabric and those woollen
stockings must feel on such a warm April afternoon.
Jess
caught the brown-haired girl’s eye and gave her a sympathetic smile. The girl
tossed her head, stuck her turned-up nose even further in the air and stalked
straight past her towards the stairs, the Irish girl hurrying behind with her
head down.
Charming,
Jess thought. She pulled a face at the girl’s retreating back, then quickly
stopped when she realised the Home Sister was glaring at her.
‘Are
you sure you’re capable of this kind of work?’ she said. ‘You don’t look as if
you could lift a broom.’
Jess
knew what Sister Sutton was thinking. At seventeen years old, she was still as
slight as a child.
‘I’m
stronger than I look,’ she promised, squaring her shoulders. ‘Just give me a
chance, and you’ll soon see what I can do.’
Sister
Sutton pursed her mouth. ‘You’re certainly good at speaking up for yourself, I
can see that.’
‘Sorry,
Sister.’ Jess pressed her lips together. And she’d tried to be so careful not
to put a foot wrong.
But
then Sister Sutton heaved a sigh that shook all her chins and said, ‘Very well,
you may have a trial. One month and then I shall decide whether you’re up to
the job or not.’
Jess
let out the breath she had been holding since she arrived on the doorstep of
the nurses’ home. Her fingers ached where she’d kept them twisted together for
so long. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Thank
you, Sister,’ Sister Sutton corrected
her. ‘You must refer to me and the other nursing sisters correctly at all
times. You must also remember not to speak to anyone unless they speak to you
first, and to stand up whenever a sister enters the room. And you must keep
your distance from the other girls here. They are student nurses at the
Nightingale Hospital, and as such they are your social superiors. They must be
treated with due deference.’
Jess
thought about the sharp-featured girl, tossing her head so haughtily and
walking past Jess as if she didn’t exist. But after four years in service, she
was used to being treated like part of the furniture.
And
if that was what it took to escape from the hatcheries, then she would willingly
become invisible.
‘Now,’
Sister Sutton went on, ‘I will show you to your room.’ She bustled off down the
passageway, a bunch of keys jingling from her belt. Reaching the door at the
farthest end of the passage, she took the keys in her hand and held them close
to her face, squinting at each in turn until she selected the right one.
‘Here
we are,’ she said, unlocking the door and throwing it open. ‘The room’s small,
but perfectly adequate for your needs.’
Jess
stepped inside. Sister Sutton was right, it was small. Scarcely bigger than a cupboard, with just enough room
for a narrow bed and a chest of drawers. But to Jess, it seemed like a palace.
There was even a small shelf above the bed where she could keep her books.
She
stepped inside, breathing in the clean smell of furniture polish and fresh
linen. Spring sunshine flooded the room, making everything bright and cheerful.
Jess
went over to the window and gazed out over the garden. It couldn’t be more
different from the hatcheries. Living here would be like living in Victoria
Park, waking up surrounded by grass and trees and flowers every day.
‘It’s
beautiful,’ she breathed.
Sister
Sutton huffed. ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ she said. ‘But as I said, it’s
perfectly adequate for a maid’s needs.’
Jess
looked around her again. Whatever the Home Sister might think, to her it was
perfect. Almost too perfect. Girls like Jess Jago didn’t get that kind of luck.
Perhaps
1937 was going to be the year everything changed for her, she thought.
About the Author
Donna
Douglas has always loved stories. As a child, she looked forward to her weekly
fix of the Bunty comic, with its
dramatic tales of girls achieving their dreams against the odds. Donna wanted
to be a writer, but like her favourite fictional heroines, her dream seemed to
be out of reach. Girls from the back streets of south London didn’t do that
kind of thing.
But
like those Bunty girls before her,
Donna was determined. When she was 19, she landed her dream job, writing photo
love stories for a teenage magazine. She went on to train as a ‘proper’
journalist, and worked on several women’s magazines. But the longing to tell
stories never left her, and when she was 40 years old she published her first
novel, Waiting in the Wings, which
won the Romantic Novelists Association New Writers Award.
Her
first novel in the Nightingales series, The
Nightingale Girls, was published in 2012. Since then there have been two
more, The Nightingale Sisters and The Nightingale Nurses. The next novel
in the series, Nightingales On Call,
is published in April 2014. Set in a 1930s East End hospital, The Nightingale
novels are heartwarming, emotional stories of girls battling against the odds –
just like those Bunty heroines of
old.
Donna
now lives in York with her husband. They
have a grown up daughter. When she isn’t writing, she likes walking, reading
and watching Pointless on TV.
The overall giveaway on tour is three
paperback copies of Nightingales on Call and is open Internationally.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Thank you for hosting a spotlight today Vicky.
ReplyDeleteShaz