Donna Douglas
Nightingales on Call
Publishing 24th
April 2014
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.''
Review
If you are a fan of Call The Midwife, Downton Abbey or Upstairs Downstairs, you really have to read this book. OK, you have to read the whole series.
I can't remember the last time I read a 400 + page book in one day, but I did with this one. The characters are all such fun to read, with vivid personalities and so many issues. With Dora, it is her boyfriend, who just happens to be married, (that's a long story) Lucy, whose father has disappeared after financially ruining them, Effie, who just likes to have fun, and Jess, the girl from the bad family that wants something more.
Donna Douglas creates stories that pull you in for each of the girls and some of the girls you want to hate, and others you want to kindly bop on the head, (Effie, I'm looking at you) and others you can't help but like even though they have their faults.
I liked getting to know all the girls as well as the Sisters in charge. Sister Sutton was a particular favorite of mine, because I just loved her relationship with Jess.
You have to champion Dora, because even though she doesn't always do the right thing, she has compassion, which is lacking in some of the other girls on the children's floor.
Lucy is frustrating. You really want to hate her, but she has so many problems that is hard to do that. She's the spoiled little rich girl.
I can't begin to say how much I loved these characters and their over the top drama!
Rating: 5 flowers
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.
Author
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