A Nightingale in Winter Read online

  Should she rejoin Kit and the two men? What if she had another panic attack? Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder and saw straight away that the decision had been taken out of her hands. Kit and the two men were coming over to her.

  Jimmy and Kit were talking as they walked toward the girl at the rail. Dirk kept at a slight distance from them, not listening to their conversation. Instead, he was watching Eleanor, sensing she was aware of their approach and that she didn’t know whether to turn to acknowledge them or to wait until they reached her. She was a fair distance away, and there was plenty of time to watch her. Something about her intrigued him. She was so tense; it wouldn’t surprise him too much if she ran away from them again. For that was precisely what she had done, albeit at a reasonably dignified walk.

  Was she just nervous of men? No doubt he and Jimmy had broken every code of protocol by speaking to them like that, but hell, Kit had spoken first. In any case, surely a member of the Voluntary Aid Detachment must be used to speaking to men? One hundred percent of their patients were men after all, and if he knew anything about soldiers, he knew they’d be bound to crack on to a pretty nurse if they were halfway able. And Eleanor was certainly pretty, by Dirk’s estimation.

  No, he was almost certain that it’d been Jimmy who had freaked her. She’d been looking straight at him right before she’d run off, her expression one of sheer terror. Though why Jimmy should inspire such a reaction, he had no idea. They’d almost reached Eleanor now, and Dirk continued to linger slightly behind, watching to see how she dealt with seeing Jimmy this time around.

  “Are you all right, Eleanor?” Kit was asking, and Dirk willed Jimmy to lay off the wisecracks for once in his life, giving the girl time to collect herself.

  Eleanor looked up, her gaze focused on Kit. “Yes, sorry about that. I…I felt a little nauseous.”

  It probably wasn’t a lie either, but Dirk didn’t think for one minute that it’d been as a result of seasickness.

  “Oh dear, it is getting a little choppy, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps you’d like to sit down somewhere, Miss…?” Dirk stepped forward now, and as he did so, she looked straight at him. He saw that her eyes were a vivid blue, the same as Jimmy’s. There were blond tendrils of hair escaping from her nurse’s cap, and a pulse beat strongly at her throat. She still looked nervous, poor thing.

  “Miss Martin,” she told him softly. “And no, no thank you. I’m all right now.”

  “Good job you’re not up in that thing if you’re prone to motion sickness!” Jimmy shouted, pointing to the skies as an aircraft flew noisily overhead.

  “Goodness!” Kit said excitedly. “Look at the way it’s looping the loop!”

  They stood and watched the plane performing its tricks. By the time it had gone, a lot of the tension had dispersed. Eleanor’s indisposition wasn’t mentioned again.

  “This is Dirk Loreson and Jimmy O’Neill, Eleanor,” Kit told her. “They’re journalists. Jimmy’s been telling me all about it. You must be terribly brave,” she said, turning to the men. “I mean, it’ll be risky being so close to the Front, won’t it?”

  “A darn sight riskier than writing stories about prize-winning steers,” Jimmy said, and when Kit looked baffled, Dirk explained.

  “That’s a little dig at my rustic background. Jimmy’s a New Yorker through and through, whereas I’ve only lived there a few years. Still, I’ll probably feel a lot more at home in the French countryside than he will.”

  “It ain’t going to be a day out for a picnic, pal.”

  “I know.” Dirk only gave half his attention to his friend’s teasing. He’d heard it all before.

  “From what I hear, some of the hospitals are pretty close to the Front as well,” he said to the women. “I’m surprised your parents weren’t worried about you going.”

  Kit’s eyebrows shot skyward. “They were, especially Mama. To listen to her go on, it’s amazing I haven’t had some incredible mishap already. I’m sure she thought the train would crash or I’d be kidnapped in Victoria Station by white slavers. But I told her she either had to let me go to do my bit in France or see me die of boredom. You can’t imagine how dreary life’s been in England. Hasn’t it, Eleanor?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Kit went on to tell them all exactly why life had been so dreary. Dirk returned to his speculations about Eleanor. Somehow he didn’t get the impression her life was the one of parties, clothes, and hijinks that Kit was lamenting the loss of. They were both dressed in their austere VAD uniforms, but somehow there was an air of wealth about Kit that Eleanor didn’t possess. It wasn’t the only difference between the two girls either. Something about Eleanor’s face spoke to him of troubled times and experiences in the past, whereas Kit’s face was an open book.

  “It’s the one thing I can’t stand about the work,” Kit was saying now. “All the blood and gore!”

  Jimmy laughed. “A little inconvenient for a nurse to feel that way, isn’t it?”

  Kit pulled a face. “Yes, I know it sounds silly, and I can deal with it all. But no one could say in all honesty that they positively enjoy the sight of an infected leg stump.”

  “Please!” Jimmy groaned.

  “Well, that’s the reality of it, day in and day out. You simply can’t imagine some of the things we have to deal with. And, as I say, I do. But I like to think that my main strength lies in spreading cheer through the ward. Good morale is so very important, isn’t it, Eleanor?”

  Dirk found himself listening eagerly for Eleanor’s reply, willing it to be more than a simple agreement.

  “Good morale is very important,” she agreed, flushing a little as they all looked at her. “But I find…” she cleared her throat “…I don’t mind the medical side of it at all. I’m not squeamish.”

  “You lucky thing!” Kit said with feeling.

  “Why d’you think that is?” Dirk asked Eleanor, not wanting Kit to start dominating the conversation again, and he saw her think about it.

  “I suppose I just find it all so fascinating; the healing process and finding the best way to treat a patient. And then there have been such exciting new developments in medicine since the war began. Blood transfusions and that sort of thing…”

  Dirk smiled, pleased to have identified a subject that she felt a passion for. He thought he would very much like to see her in action on the ward, watching how she dealt with the patients.

  “War has its uses, I suppose,” Jimmy cracked, and as Eleanor flushed and dropped her eyes, Dirk could have cheerfully socked his friend on the jaw. For someone who spent a good part of his working week interviewing people, Jimmy could be remarkably tactless.

  When they started walking again, Dirk hung back, letting Jimmy go ahead with Kit. “Don’t mind my friend,” he said with a smile, “he can be an insensitive idiot sometimes.”

  Eleanor shot him a brief glance but said nothing.

  “He’s harmless enough, though,” Dirk said, but when there was still no response, he kicked himself. What was he going on about Jimmy for? Had he already forgotten the way the poor girl had reacted to his friend when she’d first seen him?

  “Have you ever seen a blood transfusion?” he asked, reverting to their previous topic of conversation and hoping to distract her.

  “No,” she said quietly, and although she didn’t look up, he somehow felt more hopeful.

  “I bet you’d like to, though. I mean, if you’re interested in that kind of thing, it would be fascinating, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I’m sure it would.”

  “I’d like to find out more about it all,” Dirk persisted. “The advances in medicine, I mean. I’m really interested in all that, and I think it would make a good series of articles. Different from the stuff I usually write, but then, everything’s going to be different, isn’t it? I’ve never reported on a war before.”

  He paused here, offering her a chance to ask a question or make a contribution if she wanted
to. When she didn’t, he pressed on, filling the silence.

  “And yet, if you think about it, maybe it’s not so very different after all. I mean, anyone who’s ever reported on Wall Street has experience in conflict. And then there are politics…” He could hear himself babbling like a crazy man and was almost grateful when he saw that the others were waiting for them to catch up.

  Kit smiled at him. “I was just saying to Jimmy, Dirk, that you’ll both have to look us up some time if you’re based near our hospital.”

  Jimmy was looking delighted with the idea. Dirk suspected he was rather smitten by Kit. “Great idea, isn’t it?” he voiced his enthusiasm, and Dirk nodded.

  “Sure, it would be nice to do that,” he said and saw Kit smile with pleasure.

  “Excellent!” Kit said with a little clap of her gloved hands. “Has one of you got your reporter’s notebook handy? I’ll give you our address.”

  “Yes, sure,” said Jimmy. “I’ve got mine somewhere.”

  While his friend searched fruitlessly, Dirk reached into his inside pocket for his own. “Here, write it in mine,” he said, and he watched as Kit did so.

  “There you are,” she said, holding the notebook out to Dirk after she’d finished.

  “Thanks.” He was just stuffing the notebook back into his pocket when there was a shout nearby. It was quickly followed by another, then another, until people were screaming all around them.

  “What is it?” Kit said over the noise, sounding afraid. “What’s that man pointing at?”

  As she spoke, those nearest the side of the ship began to turn and run, but before Dirk could see what was wrong, the ship was rocked by a massive explosion. He heard a woman scream, debris flew through the air, and then something hit him, and he knew no more.

  Chapter Three

  STUNNED, ELEANOR LAY FOR SOME TIME, drifting in and out of consciousness, her ears still ringing from the blast, half dreaming about comforting arms enfolding her, a hand that oh so tenderly soothed her brow. Her mother. “Don’t worry. Shh, darling, don’t worry, everything will be all right.”

  Then an icy wind bit across her face, shattering the beautiful dream into fragments. The explosion. Her eyes flicked open, and she remembered. There had been an explosion. One moment Kit had been suggesting to Jimmy that he write down their address in his notebook, and the next…Kit!

  Eleanor sat up. Too quickly. The sudden movement caused her head to swim, and she had to put a hand to her eyes and sit still until the blackness cleared. Her shoulder and left side were hurting; she could remember the sensation of flying through the air. Gradually, she became aware of what had become over the last two years an all-too-familiar sound: the sound of people moaning with pain and despair. Opening her eyes again, the first thing she saw was a woman’s body. For a moment she thought it was Kit, but then she looked closer and saw that it was one of the Americans—the one with the swatches of material. Clearly she wouldn’t be conducting any more business transactions. She was dead.

  But where was Kit?

  As Eleanor looked around for her, there was a sudden blast of escaping steam from the stricken engine room, a sound so loud, it was almost as if a second explosion was taking place. Through a warm mist, Eleanor could just make out emptiness where the front of the ship should have been. The entire section had been blown away; anyone dining in the first class dining room below was certainly dead.

  “Kit?” Getting shakily to her feet, Eleanor continued to look around, finally spotting Kit lying a little way off. Her eyes were open, and she was weeping. Both were good signs.

  “Kit? Are you all right?” she asked, starting to go over, but then she saw Jimmy, stretched out on his back, his mouth open, his eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. A piece of debris lay heavily across his chest. As she looked, she heard Kit’s weeping grow louder. She’d just caught sight of Jimmy too.

  “He’s dead,” Eleanor told her gently. “There’s nothing we can do for him.”

  “Oh, Eleanor,” Kit wailed, and Eleanor turned her back on Jimmy, covering the rest of the distance between them, her eyes busily scanning the immediate area. There was, as yet, no sign of the other man, Dirk Loreson.

  “Kit,” Eleanor asked firmly, crouching down by her side. “Answer me. Are you hurt?”

  Kit struggled to sit up. “No, I…I don’t think so,” she sobbed. “Oh, but Eleanor…”

  The sound of pain seemed to be surrounding them, and suddenly a man ran by screaming. “Alice! Alice! Alice, where are you?”

  Eleanor saw Kit watch him, her eyes wide with horror. She looked hysterical, and Eleanor reached for her hand, squeezing it.

  “Please, Kit,” she urged, “try to stay calm. We have to find Mr. Loreson.”

  “Dirk!” Kit looked even more alarmed. “Where is he? Oh, God…”

  “I’m going to look for him,” Eleanor said, getting carefully to her feet. The movement jarred her shoulder, but instinctively she knew it was only badly bruised.

  “Mr. Loreson?” Walking slowly, she called his name, and then suddenly she saw him lying a little way off, his back turned to them.

  “I see him!” she told Kit and hurried over, the pain in her shoulder forgotten.

  “Mr. Loreson?” Crouching down, she saw that he was bleeding heavily from his neck. An area of the deck was already covered in his blood.

  Quickly, she felt for his pulse, putting her face close to his mouth to detect any sign of breathing. She felt both pulse and breath at the same time—weak but there.

  “Eleanor?” Kit was behind her, seeking reassurance.

  For a moment, Eleanor ignored her, carefully examining the wound in Dirk’s neck. It was a deep gash on the right side, just above the ear, and she knew that if he was to survive, the flow of blood must be stemmed. He’d lost so much already.

  Reaching down, she carefully applied pressure to the wound.

  “Is he all right?”

  Eleanor looked briefly up at Kit, taking in her pale, anxious face. “He’s alive, but it looks serious. Judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, I’d say an artery’s been severed.”

  Kit’s voice instantly rose to a wail. “He’s going to die as well, isn’t he?”

  “Not if I can apply pressure to the wound until we’re rescued…”

  “We might not be rescued. The ship might be sinking at this very moment. We might—”

  “Stop that!” Eleanor looked up sternly as Kit began to weep again. “Please, Kit! Look, I know you’re frightened,” she said more gently, “but we have to stay calm if we’re to be of any use at all. Remember your training.”

  Kit sniffed. “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Now, why don’t you go and find out what’s happening? We need to know, and I can’t leave Dirk.”

  Kit sniffed again, wiping her face with the backs of her hands. Dust had prematurely aged her, turning her dark hair ashen. “Yes,” she said. “All right. I…I’ll go.” Moving as cautiously as an old woman, she began to walk away.

  Moments later, she was running back, a hand covering her mouth.

  “Oh, Eleanor, there are women throwing their children into the sea!”

  Dirk gave the slightest of moans. Eleanor looked down into his face, barely listening to what Kit was saying. “There must be lifeboats,” she said. “They must be throwing them into lifeboats. Go and find out, Kit. Please.”

  “Yes. Yes, all right.”

  Eleanor bent her face closer to Dirk’s, dimly aware that Kit had gone at last. He gave another groan, his eyelashes fluttering. “Eleanor?”

  “Shh…”

  Dirk swallowed to moisten his throat. “Belle…”

  “Shh, don’t try to talk.”

  He licked his lips and tried again. “Belle…She…was like you…”

  “Mr. Loreson, please.”

  His eyes opened at that. He looked at her for a long while, finally giving the smallest of smiles. “So formal,” he joked, and suddenly she was aware of the weight of
his head against her thighs, the warmth coming from his body despite the bitterly cold conditions.

  In order to be able to apply pressure to his wound, she’d gently brought his head into her lap. It hadn’t seemed intimate until he’d looked at her.

  “The others?” he asked, suddenly more alert. “Kit and Jimmy?”

  She paused fractionally before answering. “Kit isn’t hurt.”

  The pale eyes bored into hers. “Jimmy?”

  She swallowed. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  Dirk’s eyes closed. “No.”

  She could feel the sudden tension in his body and wished there was something—anything—she could do to comfort him. “I think it must have been instantaneous. I don’t think he suffered.”

  “Jimmy,” he groaned, the word coming out as a sob.

  “I am so very sorry.” She pushed his hair back, feeling the contours of his face beneath her fingers.

  He was silent for a moment, and then when he spoke, it was in a voice charged with venom despite his physical weakness. “Bastards. The bastards! What the heck happened to the Hague Convention? This isn’t a troop ship, dammit!”

  “Please, Mr. Loreson,” Eleanor said. “You must try not to talk. You’ve lost a great deal of blood.”

  He opened his eyes again. “What’s wrong with me?”

  She met his gaze. “I think an artery in your neck has been severed. I’m applying pressure to stop the wound from bleeding further.”

  “But I’ve already lost a lot of blood, right?”

  She hesitated, but sensed he wouldn’t be fooled by a half-truth. “Yes, you have.”