The Little Runaways. Cathy Sharp
she was due on duty, but she might as well go up to the wards and look in on the new arrivals. Being early for work was always a good way to impress and she wanted Sister Beatrice to think well of her, because she knew she was still on probation as far as the crusty old nun was concerned. She was wed to her order and her religion and had probably never had a man in her life; at least that was Carole’s guess. Her whole life revolved around St Saviour’s and the children. Carole would never be like that; even if she did stay on to become Warden, she would never let her job become her whole life. No, she wanted it all and she intended to get whatever she could out of her present position.
Patting her mouth with the napkin, she stood up and straightened her uniform and then walked briskly from the dining room, almost colliding with a young red-haired boy who was running as if his life depended on it. She grabbed hold of his arm to steady him as he almost fell over in his efforts to avoid knocking into her.
‘Sorry, Nurse,’ he said. ‘I was in a hurry to catch up with Mary Ellen – you won’t tell on me, will you?’
‘You must be Billy Baggins,’ Carole said with a frown. ‘I’ve heard about you. You’re the little rebel. You really should start looking where you are going, but no, I shan’t tell on you – this time; just don’t do it again.’
‘Thanks, Nurse.’ Billy grinned cockily and walked nonchalantly away.
Carole guessed he would run as soon as he was out of view, but why should she care? She smiled, because she was a bit of a rebel herself and always had been. Perhaps it came from being the youngest of a clever brood and always the last to know what was going on in the family home. Not that she had much family now: the war had seen to that, taking her father and two elder brothers and leaving her with just her sister, Marjorie, and her mother.
Just as she reached the top of the stairs she saw a man come from Sister Beatrice’s office. He walked towards her, stopping to smile as they came face to face outside the sick bay, and then he offered his hand. Carole noticed at once that his hand was strong and assured as he clasped hers firmly; on the little finger of his right hand he wore a solid gold signet ring.
‘I’m Mark Adderbury,’ he said. ‘You must be Carole Clarke, the new staff nurse. Sister Beatrice told me about you. I’m glad to meet you, Carole.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard a bit about you too.’ Carole gave him the special smile she reserved for men who passed the test, and he did with flying colours. Good-looking, mature, rich and intelligent, he had all the necessary qualities – but what was he like as a man? ‘You visit the disturbed children, I think?’
‘Yes, that’s my job, but I’m interested in everything that goes on here and all the children. St Saviour’s gives hope to children who had none when they were brought here, Carole. I think helping a place like this to exist is the best job in the world.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Carole said, groaning inwardly. Not another man bent on a mission! She didn’t want to dedicate her life to good causes, unless there was something in it for her. Yet Mark’s smile was rather enticing and she decided to let the jury stay out for a while on this one. She wouldn’t mind getting to know him better before she wrote him off. ‘I do enjoy working with children; they are much easier than adults, I think. Elderly patients complain all the time and the younger men never do as you tell them.’ She gave a soft laugh to show that she was teasing and saw the flicker of appreciation in his eyes.
‘Yes, I imagine so, though I work with all ages. This is my pleasure in a way, though I wouldn’t want you to imagine that I have no other interests – good music, the theatre, dancing, books …’
Carole raised her eyes to his, seeing the sparkle there. Just the sort of things in life she liked herself – but was he taken?
‘I expect you and Mrs Adderbury have a wonderful social life …’
‘We had one, but my wife died some years ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said, though she felt quite the opposite at the news he was a widower.
‘Thank you, but I have a pleasant life and lots of friends,’ he murmured.
Carole felt a spurt of annoyance. Did he mean women friends? Men usually fell at her feet, but Mark Adderbury showed no sign of following the herd and that aroused her hunting instincts – better to keep him keen.
‘Gracious, look at the time,’ she said, though she was still early. ‘It was nice meeting you, Mr Adderbury, but I must fly.’
‘Oh, Mark, surely,’ he said, calmly. ‘But I mustn’t keep you waiting and I too have to hurry …’
Carole could feel her heart racing as she went into the sick ward. She rather liked him, even if he did look at her as if she were a charming child rather than the exciting woman most men seemed to think her …
‘Oh, you’re early,’ Nurse Paula said as she entered. ‘Good, I can tell you the latest and then get off.’
Carole nodded and smiled. ‘I just met Mr Adderbury. He seems very nice?’
‘Yes, I suppose he is. I’ve hardly spoken to him, other than about the children. He and Angela Morton are good friends, I think – not that there’s anything in it. Sally says she still loves her husband: he was killed in the war …’
‘Lots of us lost loved ones in the war, my fiancé, father and brothers were all killed,’ Carole said without blinking. ‘But some of us choose not to wallow.’
‘What rotten luck, to lose so many men in your family. I can’t imagine how that feels,’ Paula said, looking sympathetic. ‘When I’m not on nights we might go to a film together sometime?’
‘What about your boyfriend?’
‘I don’t see Fred all the time,’ Paula sighed. ‘I used to go out with Sally sometimes, but she doesn’t have time these days.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Carole said. It was always best to make allies but she’d no need to commit herself at this point. Something better might come up − she thought again about Mark Adderbury. ‘Now, shall we look at what’s been happening? What about the new arrivals?’
‘Medically, they seem all right now; they were not much affected by the smoke, because Nancy got her brother out quickly – but the boy is difficult; he just stares vacantly, though I’m sure he knows what I say.’
‘Still in shock, I suppose, though he can talk when he likes. Has Mr Adderbury visited them?’
‘Yes, a little while ago. He said the girl was the best judge of her brother’s behaviour and very good at handling him; he advised me to just leave him for now and hope that he comes out of it – but he never tells us nurses more than he thinks we need to know.’
‘Well, all we can do is to keep an eye on Terry,’ Carole said. ‘If he is calmer now we shall not need to sedate him. We must just let his sister look after him and wait until he recovers. It was a terrible thing – to lose both parents in that awful fire.’
‘Yes, horrid,’ Paula agreed but frowned. ‘I don’t know why but that boy gives me the shivers. I wish they could be moved into one of the dorms.’
‘Don’t be foolish, Nurse,’ Carole said briskly. ‘Terry is just a child and he’s been through an ordeal. You must learn to make allowances.’
Nan walked through to the hall of her small prefabricated bungalow and picked up the envelope the postman had just delivered. She’d been fortunate to get this place, having been bombed out twice during the war: the first time she’d lost almost everything, recovering only a few precious photographs and papers that were saved from the fire because she’d kept them in a biscuit tin, which miraculously survived under the rubble. The second time she’d merely had a room in a terraced house, sharing