A Sister's War Read online

  ‘What’re you talking about?’

  Ronnie sat up. ‘Margaret. It’s the reason she fell into the canal. The cat was drowning and she rescued him.’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘You won’t be able to keep him – Dora will soon see to that.’

  ‘She’s not going to know.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She paused. ‘How silly of Margaret to put herself into such danger over a cat.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she realised it at the time.’

  ‘You know the police took her to hospital?’

  ‘Yes. Mich—’ She caught herself. ‘Constable Scott told me.’

  Jessica shot her a look but didn’t comment.

  ‘What did Dora say about it all?’ Ronnie asked.

  ‘She didn’t say much until they took Margaret off.’ Jessica picked up her toothbrush. ‘But she gave us another lecture about not wandering around in the dark alone, and you could see she was very cross that her warnings hadn’t been obeyed. I must say, I wish Margaret hadn’t taken off like that.’

  ‘I suppose she wanted a quiet walk by herself – maybe she was having second thoughts about going home.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Jessica’s voice was a gurgle as she swilled her mouth and her toothbrush in a mugful of water.

  ‘Is May coming?’

  ‘She’ll be over shortly.’

  ‘I’m too tired to wait up for her,’ Ronnie said, putting her hand out to stroke Lucky’s stomach. He’d rolled over on his back against the boat wall, as far away from Jessica as possible. ‘Just a minute, Lucky. Let me have a proper look at you.’ Ronnie leaned closer. ‘Jess, can you pass my torch on the shelf?’ Jessica put the torch in Ronnie’s hand and she shone it on his underside. ‘So you’re not a boy after all,’ she said, rubbing the furry stomach. ‘You’re a sweet little girl pussycat.’ Lucky purred in acknowledgement. Ronnie looked up at Jessica. ‘Lucky’s a girl.’

  ‘Yes, I heard you tell her,’ Jessica chuckled. ‘Well, boy or girl, I don’t mind you having it/him/her so long as you keep it out of the space we laughingly call the kitchen. They’re not the most hygienic creatures ever to be wandering about where food’s being prepared.’

  ‘Lucky’s as clean as a whistle,’ Ronnie said, cuddling her.

  Her last waking thought was wondering what Rusty would think of the little cat.

  When Ronnie woke the following morning May and Jessica were both up and dressed.

  ‘I can’t believe I didn’t hear either of you,’ she said, as May handed her a cup of tea.

  ‘We were practically tiptoeing,’ May said. ‘You looked done in, if I may say so, Ron.’

  ‘I was,’ Ronnie said, taking a deep swallow. ‘Oh, this tastes wonderful. Thank you.’

  ‘And I see we have a new visitor.’ May jerked her head towards Lucky who was still fast asleep.

  Ronnie grinned. ‘I’ve told her she has to be on her best behaviour.’

  ‘And does she have a name?’ May asked.

  ‘Her name’s Lucky,’ Ronnie said. ‘Well, it couldn’t be anything else, her being a black cat and being pulled out of the canal when she was drowning.’ She looked at May. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘No, I like cats,’ May said. ‘We always had one at home.’

  ‘My parents would never let me have an animal,’ Jessica said, spooning out the porridge, ‘so I can’t say I’m used to them, but as long as she’s clean, I’ll keep her secret.’

  ‘What – away from Dora, d’ya mean?’ May said with a smirk.

  ‘Yes,’ Ronnie answered for Jessica. ‘Dora will make me give her up and I’m not going to. Margaret fell in the water to rescue her. She’s special.’

  ‘Poor Margaret.’ May sat at the table while Jessica set down the porridge bowls. ‘Sally said the best place for her was hospital but I’m worried. She looked terrible.’

  ‘Give her a couple of days rest and I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Jessica said firmly.

  After the three of them had finished a rather sombre breakfast there was a rap on the side of the butty. Lucky startled and jumped off her cushion and Ronnie saw her squeeze into a tiny space near the stove.

  Dora slid back the hatch.

  ‘We need ter plan our day,’ she said. ‘We can’t press on ’til we know about Margaret. I’ve spoken ter the barman, who said the police rang early this morning. They’re keepin’ her in as she’s got a cough. I’m not surprised.’ Dora tutted. ‘This job in’t right for her at all and she knows it by her letter yesterday.’

  ‘I’d like to go and see her,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘Certainly not, miss. Yer not goin’ anywhere but stayin’ here where I can keep an eye on yer.’

  ‘Miss Dummitt, I was the one who found her,’ Ronnie said, quelling her temper as she felt her face flush. ‘I’m asking you please to let me visit her. She’ll be feeling so strange without knowing anyone.’

  ‘How will yer get there then? The hospital’s more’n five miles away.’

  ‘I could borrow Margaret’s bike.’

  ‘Not in this weather, you fallin’ off and another disaster.’

  ‘Then I’ll walk to the pub. I’m sure someone there would have transport.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Dora wrinkled her brow. ‘Maybe Jack Soames might. He’s got a van and the old devil can usually find a can of petrol. But I in’t happy about it.’

  ‘Oh, that would be marvellous,’ Ronnie said, jumping up before Dora could change her mind. ‘I’ll go over straightaway.’ She stopped. ‘Which hospital is she in?’

  ‘King’s Park. Jack’ll know it,’ Dora said. ‘Don’t stay long, now … an’ tell her we wish her the best,’ she added unexpectedly, as she withdrew her head.

  Ronnie dressed hurriedly in her only pair of clean trousers and her usual two thick jumpers, relieved Dora hadn’t spotted Lucky.

  ‘Anyone seen what the weather’s like?’ she said to May and Jessica.

  ‘You won’t believe it,’ May said. ‘I went outside before you emerged. The sun’s out. It’s a beautiful crisp morning.’

  ‘How wonderful. I was getting sick of all the rain and the mud. But I’ll still have to go in my raincoat. I didn’t bring a proper coat. There was no room.’ She didn’t add that there was also no spare money. It would be too disloyal to Dad’s memory.

  ‘Good luck on your adventure,’ Jessica said as Ronnie left. ‘Tell her to get better soon.’

  ‘I will.’

  Ronnie half ran to the pub, thankful it was so near the mooring. The ground was still soft and squelchy but she hardly noticed. Her main thought was to find out how Margaret was. She was at the pub in less than five minutes.

  She heard a motorcar draw up just as she was about to enter the building. She looked round and saw it was a police car. The door opened and Michael Scott sprang out.

  ‘Ronnie! What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m looking for Jack Soames. He works in the pub and Dora said he might be able to give me a lift in his van to the hospital.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind. I don’t want to see you go off in some rusty old van with a man you’ve never set eyes on. I’ll take you there.’

  Ronnie hesitated. Then she nodded. She’d rather be in a car with Michael Scott than Jack Soames, whoever he was, any day.

  ‘Hop in, then.’ He smiled and opened the passenger door for her.

  ‘How did you know I’d be here?’ she asked.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he said, switching on the ignition key. ‘I just guessed you might use the pub to phone the hospital.’

  ‘So Dora let you off then?’ he said when he’d started the engine. He glanced at her.

  ‘Reluctantly,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘Has she spotted the cat yet?’ He turned his focus to the road.

  ‘No, and she’s not going to, if I can help it. And it’s not “the cat”,’ she added. ‘It’s a “she” called Lucky – just as you told her she was.’

  Michael Scott smiled. Even in profile he had a nic
e face, she thought. Actually, when he had his helmet off so you could see his face, he was rather good-looking.

  ‘What did the hospital say when you rang them this morning?’ Ronnie asked, thankful he couldn’t read her last thought.

  ‘Not much. I’m not a relative but when I mentioned “police” Sister said Margaret definitely wouldn’t be coming out today.’

  ‘I’ve just thought – do you think they’ll allow me to visit her when I’m not a relative?’

  ‘We’ll have to play it by ear,’ he said. ‘It probably depends on her condition.’

  The seat was well padded and clean but she couldn’t get comfortable worrying about Margaret.

  As though he understood, he patted her arm briefly. ‘Try not to worry until we find out exactly what the situation is. And by the way,’ he added, ‘there’s no need to call me Constable Scott when I’m not in uniform. I’m just about to go off-duty for the day, so you can call me Michael.’

  She nodded.

  At the hospital Michael strode up to one of the receptionists.

  ‘Constable Scott.’ He handed her his identification and she glanced at it, then waited. ‘I telephoned this morning about Margaret Webb. We brought her in last night – the young lady who’d fallen into the canal. Is it possible to see her?’

  ‘Visiting hours are strictly two ’til four every afternoon.’

  ‘We can’t come then,’ Ronnie said, standing near Michael. ‘Margaret and I are trainees for the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company. I know she’d like to see us, if possible.’

  The receptionist put her glasses on and ran her finger down a page from an open book.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘Margaret Webb.’ She stopped a passing young student nurse. ‘Nurse Brown, could you go upstairs and speak to Sister Harris in Ward 6. Tell her it’s a police officer who wants to see her patient, Margaret Webb.’

  ‘And her fellow crew member, Ronnie,’ Ronnie added quickly.

  The young nurse nodded and hurried away. She was back in no time.

  ‘You may both go up but Sister Harris is very strict. She’s given you no more than five minutes.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Michael turned to Ronnie. ‘Shall we go?’

  His expression was calm. He was certainly the kind of person to be around in an emergency, Ronnie thought, as she allowed him to guide her down a long dreary corridor, the lower half of the walls olive green and the upper half what may have once been cream. Michael’s steady but swift footsteps squeaked on the linoleum and she had to take little skips to keep pace.

  They walked through the door of Ward 6 to see a line of patients on both sides – maybe fifteen apiece. Ronnie’s heartbeat quickened with anticipation that her fears would soon be alleviated. A brisk plump woman with grey hair tucked under her cap came towards them and Ronnie saw her badge: Sister Harris.

  ‘We’ve come to see Margaret Webb,’ she said. ‘I think you’ve allowed us a few minutes.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Sister Harris said in clipped tones. ‘The patients in here must be kept very quiet. They are seriously ill.’

  Ronnie’s stomach lurched.

  ‘Do you mean—?’ Her words choked.

  ‘Yes. Miss Webb is very poorly. I’m afraid she has pneumonia.’

  Michael took Ronnie’s hand but she scarcely noticed. Biting her lip to stop herself from crying out, she looked directly at the Sister. It couldn’t be true. Margaret was only twenty.

  ‘Isn’t pneumonia something that only happens to older people?’ she asked, her voice tremulous.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. Babies can get it.’

  ‘She won’t die, will she?’ Ronnie licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry.

  ‘She’s young,’ the Sister said, unknowingly repeating Michael Scott’s words. ‘That’s in her favour.’

  Margaret’s eyes were closed as Ronnie, her insides quivering, tiptoed over to her bed, Michael a few paces behind. Her friend’s face was as pale as the stark white of the pillow. Ronnie sucked in a breath. She looked so small and frail. Pneumonia. Was it really possible? Margaret’s hand was outside the bedcover and Ronnie gently took it. Instantly, Margaret’s eyes opened and when she saw who it was she smiled.

  ‘Ronnie. How did you know where I was?’

  Dear God, her voice was so weak.

  ‘Constable Scott told me. Do you remember he found us last night?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Is he—?’

  ‘He’s right here,’ Ronnie said, letting go Margaret’s hand and moving aside. Michael shook his head.

  ‘Let me thank him,’ Margaret said, trying to raise herself.

  Michael stepped into view. ‘Don’t try to move, Margaret,’ he said. ‘We’re only allowed a few minutes as we’re not relatives.’ He paused. ‘Before I left the station this morning they said they’d received contact details for your parents, so by now they will have let them know where you are.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Margaret scrunched the corner of her sheet with her restless fingers. ‘Mum and Graham are going to be so upset. They thought I was going home today. That’s what I told them. But now …’ She closed her eyes, exhausted with the effort of speaking.

  ‘Is there anything you want, Margaret?’ Ronnie said, desperate to do something for the sick girl.

  ‘Nothing.’ Then Margaret’s eyes opened. ‘Just one thing. Please look after the little cat or it would have been in vain.’

  Ronnie’s eyes pricked with tears.

  ‘I’ve thought of a name for him,’ Margaret said, turning her head to look directly at Ronnie with her cornflower-blue eyes.

  ‘He’s actually a “she”,’ Ronnie said, managing to stop herself from blurting out that the cat had already been given a name. ‘What do you want to call her?’

  ‘Lucky,’ Margaret said. ‘Because black cats are lucky – and she certainly is.’

  Ronnie swallowed hard. ‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘Constable Scott came up with the same one.’ She glanced at him and gave a half smile, and he smiled back warmly. ‘So Lucky it is. I think she’ll soon get used to her new name.’

  Margaret smiled. ‘Will you come and see me again, Ronnie?’

  How could she answer? She had no idea of Dora’s plans: whether she still expected her trainees to continue along the canal today or wait until they knew Margaret was safely at home.

  ‘I’ll come if I’m allowed to,’ was all she could say, taking Margaret’s hand again and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  ‘I’m glad.’ Margaret gave a deep sigh. ‘You can tell me how Lucky’s getting on.’ She closed her eyes again and Ronnie watched for a few seconds as the girl’s chest rose and fell under the blanket.

  ‘We should leave,’ Michael said softly, just as Sister Harris bustled over and pointedly looked at her watch.

  Back in the police car Ronnie was silent. She stole a glance at Michael, his hands firm on the steering wheel, concentrating on the road. She wished he’d say something – some words of comfort. As though he knew what she was thinking he turned his head towards her.

  ‘Try not to worry,’ he said. ‘She’s in the best place and Sister Harris seems very capable. You have to have faith that they’ll look after her and she’ll recover.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do,’ Ronnie said. ‘I have a horrible feeling …’ She trailed off.

  ‘It’s because we’re not medical people,’ Michael said. ‘They know a lot more about pneumonia now and it’s not always a death sentence like it used to be in the old days.’

  ‘Don’t even talk about death,’ Ronnie said sharply.

  Michael turned back to the road. He glanced out of his window, and suddenly she felt him tense beside her as his hands clenched the steering wheel.

  ‘What’s that twerp up to?’ he said, glancing in his mirror.

  Ronnie turned her head to follow his gaze. She couldn’t see anyone, so twisted right round in her seat. Then felt her body go rigid. Will Drake stormed by on his motorbike, giving them both a cheery wa
ve as he made his front wheel tip up and leave the ground before it thumped back onto the road again.

  ‘Young idiot,’ Michael fumed. ‘He could easily cause an accident doing something so foolhardy. And I’d certainly be interested to know where he gets his petrol and what reason he gives to be allowed it.’

  Ronnie couldn’t answer. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her eardrums she was sure Michael Scott could hear it. She swallowed. What was Will Drake doing? By his behaviour he obviously had little fear of the police.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Michael Scott drew up as near as he could get to Persephone and Penelope, then hopped out to open the passenger door of the car for Ronnie. Dora strode towards them.

  ‘How is she?’ Dora said, after acknowledging Michael with a brief nod.

  Ronnie hesitated and turned to Michael.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll be coming out very soon,’ he said to Dora.

  ‘Have you any idea how long?’

  ‘No,’ Ronnie said. ‘But she does look very poorly. They said she had pneumonia.’

  Dora paused for a moment then shook her head. ‘I need ter think about this,’ she said. ‘We have a schedule ter keep. I’ll have ter have a word with the office.’ She looked at Ronnie. ‘You’d better come with me and allow Constable Scott ter carry on with his duties.’

  ‘Oh, I was just about to go off-duty,’ Michael said, smiling. He glanced at Ronnie. ‘But I was glad to be of service, Ronnie.’

  ‘Thank you … Michael,’ she added under her breath so Dora couldn’t hear her use his Christian name.

  He grinned in acknowledgement. ‘Let’s hope we hear some better news soon.’ He jerked his head to Dora’s departing figure. ‘I’ll call the hospital tomorrow and let you all know how Margaret gets along.’

  ‘How can you?’ Ronnie said. ‘I’m sure Deadly Dora will want to move off today and you won’t know where we are.’

  ‘We’re not the canal police for nothing,’ Michael grinned. ‘And the canal isn’t going anywhere so I’m sure I can catch you up.’

  Ronnie nodded and hurried after Dora. Michael would do his best – of that she was certain.

  ‘We’ll wait until termorrer mornin’,’ Dora addressed the group when she returned from making her phone call at the pub. ‘Then I’ll phone the hospital and if she’s makin’ progress we’ll be on our way.’