The Little Runaways. Cathy Sharp
he’d had a fall and then a tramp had attacked him, but I think she was lying.’
‘At least he is safe now. He won’t be beaten here.’
‘No.’ Sally beamed at her. ‘It’s good to know he is safe with us …’ She hesitated, then, ‘Have you moved into your apartment?’
‘I got the keys two days ago and much of the stuff my father is sending up is coming later today. I have to meet the removers at around two o’clock so I’d better get going − I have a lot of work to do first.’
‘Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow?’
‘I’ll be here later this evening. I’ve arranged to help out with the night shift.’
‘I’ll have finished my shift by then. Andrew is taking me out soon. We’re going somewhere special.’
‘Andrew Markham?’
‘Yes …’ Sally’s cheeks were flushed. ‘We’ve been going out since before Christmas, but just casually. It’s going to be different now, I think.’ She paused. ‘You did once say I might borrow a dress sometimes, if you remember?’
‘Yes, of course, Sally. Pop round tomorrow evening – say about eight? I’ll can show off my new home and you can choose something.’
‘I wouldn’t ask, but Andrew mentioned taking me to the theatre and I don’t have anything suitable. Mostly, I can wear my own things, but …’ She stopped and blushed, embarrassed at having to borrow Angela’s clothes.
‘Sally, I’d happily lend you anything of mine. I should have remembered my promise before this, but I haven’t stopped since we came back after the holidays.’
‘I don’t think any of us have had a spare moment,’ Sally said. She looked shyly at Angela. ‘I don’t want to let him down, you see.’
‘You couldn’t do that,’ Angela assured her. ‘You’ll look wonderful whatever you’re wearing.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I must fly or I shall never get there.’
‘Go on, you don’t want to be late,’ Sally called after her but Angela didn’t stop to look back.
Angela looked around the spacious sitting room with satisfaction. She’d been lucky to find an apartment of this size so close to her work at St Saviour’s, and after hours of moving furniture about and hanging curtains, she was finally happy with the effect. From outside, the building looked almost shabby, in keeping with its situation near the river and the old warehouse it had been some years before the war. During the bitter war that had wreaked so much havoc on the East End of London, it had sustained some fire damage but remained structurally sound. The building had since been restored to become a block of flats, some of which were quite small and others, like Angela’s, large with rooms big enough to hold her beloved piano and her gramophone, both of which had now been brought up from her father’s house in the country. Besides the large, comfortable sofa and chairs, and a selection of small tables, there was also a pretty mahogany desk and an elbow chair set near the picture window. Above her head, a wintry sunshine poured in through the skylights. Angela had fallen in love with it as soon as she walked in even though it had cost her more than she’d intended to spend on her new home. Her mother would think it an extravagance if she’d asked her, but her father had told her to go ahead and buy with confidence when she’d asked his advice.
For a moment Angela’s eyes filled with tears, because the thought of her mother’s behaviour at Christmas still made her want to weep. She hadn’t come to terms with what her father had told her concerning her mother’s mental breakdown – because, of course, that was what it was. Mrs Hendry had always been a highly strung woman but something had changed her. In her right mind, her mother would never have stolen things from shops or drunk so much or run up a huge debt for her husband to pay.
When she saw him alone after returning to London, Angela had asked Mark if he knew why her mother was ill but if he did he hadn’t told Angela.
‘People sometimes become overwhelmed by life,’ was all he would say. ‘Something was triggered in your mother’s mind and …’ He shook his head. ‘If I understood why these things happened I would be able to do more for my patients. I believe it was a slow, gradual illness, made worse by the war and then …’ Mark had refused to elaborate. ‘I’m sorry, Angela, but I cannot reveal confidences.’
‘But she isn’t actually your patient.’
‘No, but your father is trying to persuade her to consult me – and she has talked to me in confidence.’
‘And you feel you can’t talk about it?’ Mark nodded and Angela felt annoyed with him. ‘I wish you’d let me know sooner that she was drinking too much. Perhaps I could have helped her.’
‘I doubt it,’ Mark said. ‘Even had you been living at home it would still have happened – it was already happening before you took the job at St Saviour’s. You’d had enough to bear with John’s death. I just wanted to spare you the pain of knowing for as long as I could. We hoped that she would conquer the habit. Instead, it has become very much worse. I thought she was much better at the dance she organised – but perhaps that was because you’d trusted her to do it. She is very proud of you, Angela.’
‘She never shows it.’ Angela shrugged the suggestion off. The fact that Mark had kept her mother’s addiction from her rankled more than she liked and she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. She’d believed they might be getting closer to one another – but a man who truly cared for her would have known she was strong enough to face up to the challenge.
She put the thought from her mind, glancing round her apartment once more. She would have a house-warming party soon, Angela thought, going through to the modern and very new kitchen to boil a kettle. Yes, something simple would do; with a buffet if she could find anything nice in the shops.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Angela,’ Sister Beatrice greeted her as she walked into the sick bay that Sunday evening. ‘Nurse Paula has gone down with flu and rang to say she would be off work for the rest of the week.’
‘Oh, poor Paula,’ Angela said. ‘It is as well we’ve taken on Staff Nurse Carole.’
‘Yes, she has excellent references. We were lucky to get her – and that’s down to you, I suppose.’
‘Why down to me?’ Angela was surprised at the praise, faint though it was.
‘Yes, because of the extra funds you raised before Christmas, we’ve been allowed to employ another nurse with the necessary level of experience.’
‘Oh … well, yes, I suppose that did help but once the new building is finished we shall need more …’ Angela’s words were lost as they heard blood-curdling screams from the isolation ward next door. ‘What on earth was that?’
‘I think it must be Terry Johnson,’ Sister Beatrice said, ‘and that is why I’m glad you’re here this evening. We tried to separate him and his big sister, Nancy, into different dormitories earlier this morning, because they been here a couple of days and are obviously not carrying an infection, but the boy became violent and bit Staff Nurse Carole when she tried to part them. His sister intervened and he quietened, but he is going to need watching. We were forced to give him a mild sedative and leave them both in the isolation ward – but it sounds as though it has worn off.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I think Nurse will need help in there this evening.’
‘I’d better go and see whether he needs anything,’ Angela said, though the first screams had not been repeated.
‘I imagine his sister is calming him down, but they can’t be ignored. Go and talk to them, Angela, see what the matter is if you can. He won’t speak to me, I’m afraid. Usually, I can get children to talk, but not this boy. He just stared vacantly at me, though I’m sure