Shroud for a Nightingale Read Online Free PDF Page B

breakfast.”
    They were silent again, considering this new development. Miss Beale noted with interest that there were no protestations that no one would want to murder Fallon. Then Maureen Burt said: “Fallon can’t be all that sick. She was back here in Nightingale House this morning, just after eight-forty. Shirley and I saw her slipping out of the side door just before we went into the demo room after breakfast.”
    Nurse Goodale said sharply: “What was she wearing?”
    Maureen was unsurprised at this apparently irrelevant question. “Slacks. Her top coat. That red headscarf she wears. Why?”
    Nurse Goodale, obviously shaken and surprised, made an attempt to conceal it. She said: “She slipped those on before we took her to the sick bay last night. I suppose she came back to fetch something she wanted from her room. But she shouldn’t have left the ward. It was stupid. She had a temperature at 103.8 when she was warded. Lucky for her that Sister Brumfett didn’t see her.”
    Nurse Pardoe said maliciously: “Funny though, isn’t it?” No one replied. It was indeed funny, thought Miss Beale. She recalled her long damp drive from the hospital to the nurse training school. The road was a winding one; obviously there would be a short cut through the trees. But it was a strange journey for a sick girl to make on an early January morning. There must have been some compelling reason to bring herback to Nightingale House. After all, if she did want something from her room there was nothing to prevent her asking for it. Any of the students would gladly have taken it across to the sick bay. And this was the girl who should have played the patient that morning, who should, logically, be lying next door among the tangle of tubes and linen.
    Nurse Pardoe said: “Well, there’s one person who knew that Fallon wouldn’t be acting patient this morning. Fallon herself.”
    Nurse Goodale, white-faced, looked across at her. “If you want to be stupid and malicious I suppose I can’t stop you. But, if I were you, I would stop short of slander.”
    Nurse Pardoe looked unconcerned, even a little pleased. Catching sight of her sly, gratified smile, Miss Beale decided that it was time this talking stopped. She was searching for a change of topic when Nurse Dakers said faintly from the depths of her chair: “I feel sick.”
    There was immediate concern. Only Nurse Harper made no move to help. The rest gathered around the girl, glad of the chance to be doing something. Nurse Goodale said: “I’ll take her to the downstairs cloakroom.”
    She supported the girl out of the room. To Miss Beale’s surprise Nurse Pardoe went with her, their recent antagonism apparently forgotten as they supported Nurse Dakers between them. Miss Beale was left with the Burt twins and Nurse Harper. Another silence fell. But Miss Beale had learned her lesson. She had been unforgivably irresponsible. There was to be no more talk of death or murder. While they were here and in her charge they might as well work. She gazed sternly at Nurse Harper and invited her to describe the signs, symptoms and treatment of pulmonary collapse.
    Ten minutes later the absent three returned. Nurse Dakers still looked pale but was composed. It was Nurse Goodale wholooked worried. As if unable to keep it to herself, she said: “The bottle of disinfectant is missing from the lavatory. You know the one I mean. It’s always kept there on the little shelf. Pardoe and I couldn’t find it.”
    Nurse Harper interrupted her bored but surprisingly competent recital and said: “You mean that bottle of milky-looking mixture? It was there after supper last night.”
    “That’s a long time ago. Has anyone been in that loo this morning?”
    Apparently no one had. They looked at each other in silence.
    It was then that the door opened. The Matron came quietly in and shut it behind her. There was a creak of starched linen as the twins slipped from the desk and stood to attention.