A Nightingale in Winter Read online

  Suddenly, from the other side of the wrecked ship, the sounds of screaming grew louder. Eleanor looked up anxiously, her eyes searching for Kit.

  “What is it?” Dirk asked, and she shook her head.

  “I don’t know. Kit’s gone to find out what’s happening. She’ll be back soon.”

  There was a pause while they waited together. His breathing sounded labored now, and she was increasingly concerned about his chances of survival. It was so cold apart from anything else, but she dared not move him and risk opening up his wound again. And for all she knew, none of them had much time left on the stricken ship. Something terrible was obviously happening. If only Kit would come back to tell them what that was. Had the German U-boat returned to finish them off?

  Dirk shivered in her arms. Very gently, she edged her body still closer to him.

  “How long have I got, d’you think?” he asked.

  Looking down, she saw he’d accurately read her concerns. In the hospital she’d worked at in England, she’d often been asked difficult questions by horribly injured patients. It had taken her some time to get used to answering them indirectly and in such a way that the man in question felt he had been given an answer. She tried the technique now on Dirk.

  “The more you consent to lay still and stay quiet, the better your chances of survival,” she said. Despite everything, he smiled a little, not fooled.

  “Spoken like a true nurse.”

  Then suddenly Kit was back at last, her face reflecting all the horrors she’d witnessed on the other side of the ship. Eleanor saw she was doing her best to stay calm and gave her an encouraging smile.

  “How is he?” Kit asked, looking at Dirk.

  “Weak but conscious.”

  Dirk opened his eyes to prove it. “Hi.”

  Kit’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Dirk, I’m so sorry about Jimmy.”

  He closed his eyes again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “It’s all so utterly terrible. I just can’t—”

  “What’s happening, Kit?” Eleanor urged her to tell them.

  Kit wiped her eyes, doing her best to pull herself together a little. “There are lifeboats. Four of them.” And she crouched down and clutched hold of Eleanor’s free hand as if she couldn’t last out a second longer without the reassurance of human contact. “At least there were four. Oh, Eleanor, one of them just capsized. I think there were too many people in it. They were trying to bail it out with their hats, but it was no good. They all drowned.”

  “Shh…” Eleanor wanted to soothe Kit, but at the same time she was watching Dirk’s face. She could see a flicker of anxiety in his eyes.

  “They knew,” Kit continued. “The moment before…They all knew what was going to happen. The boat…the boat was so low in the water, and more and more people…” Her voice broke. “And, Eleanor, there was this dreadful man taking photographs of it all. How could he? How could he?”

  “It’s what Jimmy would have done,” Dirk said without opening his eyes.

  While Eleanor shuddered at the horrific image Kit’s words conjured up, she clung at the same time to the life belt of taking practical action. “What about the other boats?” she asked. “Kit, are the other boats safe? Did you find out if help is on the way?”

  “No. I don’t know.” Kit’s shaky self-composure was crumbling, her voice rising now toward a wail.

  “Go and find out,” Eleanor urged her. “Please, Kit. We need to know what’s happening.”

  Kit’s voice was barely a whisper. “All right.”

  Dirk’s eyes were still closed. It was impossible to tell whether he was at last taking her advice and resting or whether he’d lapsed into unconsciousness. Aware of a creeping numbness in her limbs, Eleanor shifted her position slightly to avoid getting a cramp. The ship didn’t appear to be sinking as yet, but it was badly damaged, and who knew how long it would stay afloat. Everyone on board must be remembering, as she was, the fate of the Titanic only four years previously. The liner had been much larger than The Sussex, but even so, she’d been entirely consumed by the ocean. Eleanor couldn’t swim, and in any case, the waters would be icy. No one who ended up in the water would last very long.

  “If there are any sound lifeboats, you should go in one,” Dirk told her, eyes still closed.

  “Shh,” she told him. “We’ll see.”

  He was silent again, seeming to sleep for a few moments, lips slightly parted. She examined his face, noticing the faint growth of stubble on his chin. He looked young and vulnerable, like so many of her patients did. And yet there was a strength about the bones of his face, something that drew her to him. Before the explosion, he’d spoken to her of blood transfusions and his desire to write about modern innovations in medicine. In different circumstances, it would have been pleasurable to talk about the subject with him.

  “Belle…”

  Leaning forward to catch the softly spoken word, Eleanor frowned, trying to make sense of it.

  “Nervous she was, at first. But I got her to trust me in the end—” Suddenly he was seized by a fit of coughing, causing her fingers to become dislodged. Blood spurted from the wound, staining her coat, but was quickly stemmed as her fingers found their position again.

  “Careful,” she warned him gently, feeling his blood sliding through her fingers.

  He shivered. “I’m so cold.” She moved closer still, cradling him in her arms, and was rewarded by the faintest of smiles. “You’re such a good person.”

  Eleanor’s heart gave a lurch. For she didn’t feel good, and hadn’t for a long time. Despite all the church services she’d attended over the years, despite volunteering, despite helping people to the best of her ability, deep down she felt like a bad person. It was a view that was constantly reinforced by her father. For as long as she could remember, he’d spoken to her with an air of disapproval and contempt. She’d never known why, but sensed it had something to do with that lost part of her life before her breakdown.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Dirk was watching her again; it was uncanny the way he seemed able to read her face. Frightening.

  “Nothing,” she said, carefully removing all emotion from her face. “Nothing’s wrong. And please, you shouldn’t be talking; you should be conserving your strength.”

  “As long as I can talk, I know I’m still alive.” He smiled, and she let out her breath as the atmosphere between them lightened a degree.

  “Very well. Tell me about Belle. Is she pretty?”

  Once again he smiled faintly. “She liked to run. Round and round. Biggest grin on her face you ever saw. Tail almost wagging itself off…”

  Belle was a dog. A dog, not his girlfriend.

  “Loved to be free like that…”

  A wave of emotion hit Eleanor, every bit as strong as the waves bashing at the ailing ship, and she pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. Ever since she’d first learned of the existence of VADs, she’d dreamed of coming to France and of gaining her freedom. Mrs. Frobisher had first told her about the recruitment drive by the Red Cross, not because she thought Eleanor might be interesting in joining, but because she simply talked non-stop about everything and anything. For once, Eleanor had lapped up her every word.

  “Do you think I would be suitable to become a VAD?” she’d asked the older woman when she paused for breath.

  Mrs. Frobisher had regarded her doubtfully. “Why, er…yes, I’m sure you would,” she’d said, and Eleanor had duly reported this to her father that very evening.

  “Mrs. Frobisher thinks I should volunteer my services as a Voluntary Aid Detachment, Father.”

  The Reverend Martin looked up from his newspaper, not troubling to conceal his surprise. Mrs. Frobisher was a very strong presence in the parish and one of quite a few widows who seemed intent on doing their level best to convince him that he should consider remarrying. He wasn’t averse to giving any of them the impression that this plan was a possibility at some date in the future, and
of them all, he seemed to have the most time for Mrs. Frobisher.

  “Does she indeed,” he said.

  Eleanor’s heart was racing, partly as a result of the half-truth she’d just told, but also because his answer was so important to her. If he vetoed the plan, then that would be that. “Yes. I should like to consider offering my services if you have no objection.”

  “Well, I don’t imagine for a moment you’d be suitable. What experience do you have of nursing, after all? But should they accept you, I wouldn’t object, provided it didn’t conflict with your duties here. Of course, the war will all be over in a matter of months.”

  But the war hadn’t been over quickly, and Eleanor had been accepted as a VAD. For a while, the combination of her work in the hospital and at the vicarage had so absorbed her that she’d forgotten about her desire to go to France in search of freedom. Then, without warning, her father changed. Normally, they avoided each other as much as possible, often only seeing each other for their evening meal, and sometimes not even then if Eleanor was working an evening shift at the hospital. But suddenly he always seemed to be waiting for her. Looking at her.

  So, she’d put in for a transfer to the Front, and here she was. Provided they were rescued, she’d finally have the freedom she’d craved for so long.

  “Eleanor…” Dirk’s eyes were still closed. His voice was very weak.

  “Shh. You really shouldn’t talk,” she told him.

  He opened his eyes briefly. “I never was much good at doing what I ought to do.”

  But despite his words, he lay quietly, and Eleanor knew it was a sign of how tired he was now. Before she could begin to contemplate the consequences for him if help didn’t arrive soon, Kit came back again.

  “I spoke to one of the crewmen,” she told them breathlessly. “It seems they don’t think the ship will sink after all. They’ve sent a mayday message. The lifeboats are coming back.”

  “Well done,” Eleanor told her. “That is good news.”

  Kit didn’t look as relieved as would have been expected. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Eleanor, d’you remember the fat woman we saw?” she asked. “The one I was laughing at?”

  The woman with the adoring husband. “Yes, I remember her.”

  “Well, I saw her, in the water. Her husband had gotten her up onto a sort of a raft. I suppose it was part of the ship. She…she was too large to get into the lifeboats. Oh, Eleanor, she was just kneeling there. It was such a dreadful, pathetic sight. You can’t imagine…” Tears squeezed their way from behind Kit’s closed eyes.

  Eleanor felt tears gather in her own eyes.

  “Her husband wouldn’t leave her,” Kit went on. “He couldn’t get onto the raft without knocking her in I suppose, so he was just clinging to the side. Then as I watched…as I watched…he just slipped into the water.”

  “Grandos,” Dirk said, and they both looked at him, surprised.

  “You knew him?” Eleanor asked and felt the slight affirmative movement of his head against her thighs.

  “Crossed with him from the States on the Rotterdam. Spanish guy. A composer. Devoted to his wife.”

  Kit began to cry openly. “This is so awful. I can’t bear it. Why did they fire at us? We’re a passenger ship! They must have known. They must have!”

  Eleanor could think of nothing to say to comfort her, so she said nothing. Then someone called out. Eleanor listened intently. The call came again. “Someone’s calling for a nurse,” she told Kit.

  Kit said nothing. Neither did she move. Eleanor looked at her urgently. “Kit, they’re calling for a nurse. You’d better go.”

  Kit looked fearfully in the direction of the voice. “There’s a man with his legs trapped. The crew have been working to free him.”

  “They must have succeeded.”

  “Oh, Eleanor,” Kit pleaded, “can you go? Please. If I stay with Dirk? I feel so utterly useless. I…I don’t even know any longer if I should go to France if we come through this.”

  The call came again, sounding even more urgent.

  “Please, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor knew she ought to go. Kit was clearly in no fit state to be of much help, and besides, Eleanor was growing stiff from being in one position for so long. Still, she felt extremely reluctant to leave Dirk. She wanted to see things through with him, stay with him until she could deliver him to safe hands. But it was a simple, if vital, task she was doing, after all. Kit could do it just as well. Reluctantly, she beckoned the other girl over. “Sit here like this. Keep your thumb just here and make sure you keep the pressure even.”

  When Kit was in place, Eleanor got to her feet, feeling suddenly cold in the biting wind without the warmth from Dirk’s body.

  She was moving off when he spoke. “Eleanor?”

  “Yes?” Their eyes met.

  “Come back?”

  Weak as he was, there was a strength in his eyes that connected to her. Nobody had ever looked at her quite like that before. It was as if he knew her, through and through. It frightened her; filled her with uneasiness. And yet, somehow, she still didn’t want to leave him.

  “Yes,” she told him, “I’ll come back.” Then, with a reminder to Kit to make sure to keep the pressure on the wound even, she went off to do her duty.

  Chapter Four

  DIRK COULD HEAR HIS MOTHER shaping the butter with her butter paddles in the dairy across the yard. Slap, slap, slap. As the sound came in with the breeze through the open window, he could picture her: pink cheeked, wearing a spotless white apron, her auburn hair completely hidden beneath the scarf tying it back. Dirk’s stomach growled. Some of that butter layered onto toast would be a good start to the day. Even better with a freshly boiled egg, which meant he had to get up. Egg collecting was his job.

  Suddenly, water flecked his face. The rain must be coming in through the open window. Why was it open? It was cold, and Dad got mad if anyone let the heat out of the house in the winter.

  He tried to open his eyes, but somehow his eyelids felt glued together, and he couldn’t do it. In any case, the world was suddenly tilting, and he wasn’t in his bed beneath the window any longer; he was on his toboggan on a snowy hillside above the farm, the cold air whistling past his ears, his scarf swirling in the air behind him.

  “Woo hoo!” he cried out with pure exhilaration, punching the air with joy, and started up the hill again, dragging the toboggan behind him. Over and over he swooshed down the hill and trudged up again, until he was so cold he could no longer feel his hands and feet, and he had to give up and return to the farm for hot chocolate.

  “Did you have fun?” his mother scooped him up into a quick embrace before he could evade her. The warmth of her body felt good against his, even though he was too old to be hugged that way any longer.

  “It was amazing!” he said, still remembering the thrill of the rapid descent…But his mom was fading away now, and somehow it was Jimmy standing there waiting to greet him on a station platform.

  “Hey, kiddo! Great to see you again. Just you wait and see the girl I’ve got lined up for you to take to the party tonight! She’s a real peach.”

  A voice came to him, a voice that wasn’t Jimmy’s. “Dirk? Please, you must wake up.”

  Confused, he looked around the station platform to see who’d spoken, but nobody was there. The platform was eerily empty—no passengers, no guards, not even any trains. When he looked back toward Jimmy, his friend had gone too. He was alone.

  “Dirk, listen to me. You must stay awake. Please. Come on, open your eyes. Look at me.”

  “No…”

  The voice didn’t belong to the station, because there was no station. Very faintly, Dirk saw his mom again, the cup of hot chocolate in the hands she was holding out to him. But there was a look of sadness in her eyes now, an expression of pained reproach. And as he stared at her, struggling to find the words to explain his anger and frustration, Jimmy spoke again.

  “So long, pal. See you on the
other side.”

  Dirk’s eyes sprang open, a knife of pain stabbing him as he remembered all over again that Jimmy was dead.

  “There’s a ship on its way to rescue us. They’ll be here soon. Within the half hour, they say.”

  It was her again—the nurse, Eleanor. He was grateful to have her back again. The other one—Kit—had bombarded him with words, chattering on and on about her friends and her training, and then on to her fears that a U-boat would return to finish them off. His head had felt as if it was in danger of exploding, and he’d closed his eyes in an effort to block her out.

  “Kit was almost asleep when I came back,” Eleanor told him. “The effects of the cold, I think. I sent her to try to find shelter.”

  “Aren’t you cold yourself?” His voice was croaky from lack of use, his throat as dry as a desert.

  “I’m all right,” she said. “Here, have a sip of water.” Carefully, she placed an open flask to his lips, and he stirred himself to drink, the cold liquid a balm against his parched lips. How long had he been asleep? And what had he missed?

  “I must write about this when we reach land,” he said. “While it’s all still fresh in my mind.”

  “You’ll be going straight to hospital,” Eleanor told him, putting the flask down and settling his head more comfortably on her lap. “Work must wait.”

  He smiled briefly at her stern tone of voice and closed his eyes again.

  “Eyes open, remember?” she said. “You must keep awake.”

  “You’re so efficient,” he quipped, but as he did so, he felt the cold trails of his tears as they slid down the sides of his face into his hair. First his mom, then Jimmy. The two people he loved most in the world gone.

  “Shh,” said Eleanor, although he hadn’t spoken, and he swallowed, doing his best to force the wave of grief down.

  It wouldn’t help anything to give way to it now. Eleanor was right; he had to hang on here if he wanted to survive. There would be plenty of time to grieve after he’d been taken off this cursed ship.

  “Have you ever lost anyone?” he asked, opening his eyes, just in time to see a shadow cross her face.