Home Front Nurse: An emotional first world war saga full of hope. Rosie James

contents all over the place. And lying there in front of their horrified eyes, were the precious meat and potatoes, all floating in the gravy – which had begun swirling around and creeping into the cracks and corners of the stone floor.

      For a few seconds neither of them spoke, then Angelina had put her own pan down on the floor and began trying to salvage some of the wasted food, just as Mrs Haines, hearing the commotion, had begun hurrying from the kitchen.

      ‘What on earth is going on!’ the cook had demanded. ‘Oh my Good Lor …’ she’d said on seeing the mess. ‘Whatever are we going to do now!’

      ‘That was all Angelina’s fault!’ Mrs Marshall had declared shrilly, her voice ringing through the corridor, ‘She is such a stupid child! I told her to be careful, but she would insist on carrying the heaviest pan! She thinks she knows everything, can do everything better than anyone else and it’s time someone taught her a lesson!’

      For once, Angelina had been speechless. How could she be accused of something that was not her fault? How could Mrs Marshall be so horrible?

      Trying to stem her tears, Angelina had just stared unbelievingly at Mrs Marshall. ‘But I wasn’t holding that pan! You know I wasn’t!’ Angelina had spluttered. ‘You dropped it, not me! It’s not fair to say it was me!’

      But she was to get no further because just then Emma Kingston had appeared.

      ‘Oh dear,’ the superintendent had said as she’d surveyed the scene. ‘Never mind, we must make do as best we can – it’s too late to order a replacement, but I’m sure we can deal with this.’ She had lifted the lid from the other pan. ‘Look, we still have the vegetables and the puddings must be in that other one back there on the table, so all is not lost and perhaps marmite sandwiches will fill the gap, just for once.’

      ‘I told Angelina to be careful!’ Mrs Marshall had declared, determined to maintain the fallacy, ‘but you can’t tell her! Oh no. This one always knows best!’

      ‘Never mind,’ Emma Kingston had said. ‘Accidents do happen now and again.’ She’d glanced briefly at Angelina. ‘Perhaps you will help Mrs Marshall clean this up, Angelina, and then come and have your own dinner. Mrs Haines and I will take the other pans to the kitchen and prepare the tables. Everyone will soon be getting hungry!’

      Then, Mrs Marshall had gone to the kitchen to fetch a large bowl, and soap and water and cloths, and between them, she and Angelina had picked up all the beautiful potatoes, one after another, and the slices of meat, and had washed the floor until all that remained of the event was a large, black stain which would soon dry up and disappear, leaving no trace that anything had happened.

      But what would not disappear, ever, was Angelina’s memory of the occasion. As she and Mrs Marshall had knelt there together on the floor, not another word had passed between them. Because what would have been the point? The older woman had told a direct lie to save her face, and as an adult, her version of the accident would be the one believed if Angelina had decided to say anything to the superintendent or Mrs Haines. But it had taught Angelina one of the hardest lessons in life – that adults are quite capable of telling downright lies, and justice does not always prevail.

      At the end of the evening, with everything completed, she’d stood up and gazed into Mrs Marshall’s unflinching eyes – only to see a look of triumph. The woman had got herself off the hook.

      Mrs Marshall, while carrying all the cleaning materials back into the kitchen, had breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs Haines, the matriarch of the domestic staff, would have had a few choice words to say to her if she had known the truth. The cook had a quick tongue and was ready to criticise the others in her domain when things went a bit wrong, and there had been one or two small incidents recently that had put Mrs Marshall on the wrong foot.

      Mrs Marshall had shrugged to herself. Anyway, Miss Angelina Green, the Miss Who Can Do No Wrong, would come to no harm over being accused. Oh no, she wouldn’t get told off. Besides, Mrs Marshall loved it here at the Garfield and couldn’t afford to lose this job. The money was good, and she had a sick husband to feed and take care of.

      Besides, who cared about a child’s sensitivities? Children got over things pretty quickly.

      Later that night, lying next to Ruby who was sleeping soundly, Angelina had wished with all her heart that she could tell Mr Alexander about what had happened. He would understand and sympathise with her, she knew he would, because each time he visited he always made a point of seeking her out so that they could have their lovely chats together. Mr Alexander was the sort of person you could say anything to, and Angelina had known that he would be as cross with Mrs Marshall as she was.

      Now, almost four years later, the superintendent nodded at Angelina’s remark that the girl believed Mrs Marshall had never liked her. Emma Kingston had always been aware of the woman’s short temper – especially, it seemed, with Angelina who, from such an early age had been so bright, so clever, so quick to catch on. Perhaps Mrs Marshall was actually jealous of the child’s ability in the schoolroom, because she herself was not well educated. In fact, little was known about the woman because she never discussed her personal life other than to say that she lived near the docks with her ailing husband. But she was a good worker and always came in on time, and over the years had introduced one or two other women, neighbours of hers, who needed casual employment, and so far all had proved more than satisfactory. Emma Kingston had found this useful, because she preferred to engage recommended staff.

      ‘Well, we can’t be liked by everyone in this world, can we, Angelina?’ the superintendent said cheerfully. ‘And make no mistake, you are dearly loved by all the rest of us.’ Now then—’ she looked down at the folder on her desk ‘—we shall naturally find you suitable accommodation after you leave here, and I am sure that it will not be difficult to find you work so this is what I want us to talk about. Do you have any particular wishes? You are a very competent girl in so many ways, dear – so, for example, I am certain you would be welcome to learn a trade in one of the hotels or guest houses. You might even like to learn more about cookery because you seem very happy in the kitchen helping Mrs Haines. Apart from washing up and keeping the place clean, she’s told me that you are quick at peeling vegetables and very good at rubbing up short crust pastry!’

      ‘Yes, I do like being in the kitchen,’ Angelina said. ‘Mrs Haines has taught me a lot.’

      ‘Or maybe you would like to think about office work,’ the superintendent went on. ‘Perhaps Mr Garfield knows of someone who could do with a young clerk.’ She glanced at Angelina quickly. ‘Of course, everyone has to start at the bottom and you will not earn very much at the beginning.’

      ‘I wouldn’t mind that, Miss Kingston,’ Angelina said.

      ‘Of course, there are still a few months to go yet, before we need take any action, but do any of my suggestions appeal to you, Angelina? Or do you have thoughts of your own?’

      Angelina took a deep breath. ‘Miss Kingston, I know exactly what I am going to do with my life.’

      The superintendent looked up, unsurprised at this. Angelina had had her feet very firmly on the ground from the moment she had taken her first steps.

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘I am going to train to be a nurse,’ Angelina said emphatically, and without stopping for breath she went on. ‘I have been thinking so much about it, and talking to Greta, and she’s told me that St Thomas’s have a nurses’ training school and that anyone can apply and I know I’m a bit young but next year I shall be going on fifteen and that’s how old they’ll take you and I know I can be a good nurse because I’ve helped in the medical room for a long time now, haven’t I? Nancy is a ward sister at the hospital now, and she could tell them about me and explain that I work hard and that the sight of blood doesn’t upset me – I know what to do with damaged knees and bumped heads – and I don’t mind cleaning up sick—’

      Emma Kingston raised her hand and smiled. ‘Well then, I think we shall