Free Nightingales at War by Donna Douglas Page A

common ground between them. And it didn’t help that Simone was desperately unhappy in her new home. Like a beautiful, exotic hothouse flower, she simply couldn’t survive in the chilly, grey climate of England. She hated the people, the weather, the language. But most of all she hated James for bringing her there. He did his best to make their marriage work, but Simone’s indifference, combined with her violent, jealous moods, eventually proved too much for him. Now they were like barely civil strangers, existing side by side in an atmosphere of mutual resentment.
    He had reached the landing that led to his office when he heard a curious sound from above him. At first he thought it might be exhaustion playing tricks on him. But as he paused on the stairs to listen, he realised it wasn’t his imagination. Drifting down the stairs were the sounds of laughter – and music.
    Curious, he followed them to the top floor, where the empty wards were situated. From along the passageway came the strong smell of fresh paint. As James approached, he could hear the hubbub of voices. It sounded as if someone was having a party in Holmes ward.
    He opened the double doors, and an extraordinary sight met his eyes. The cavernous ward, stripped of beds, furniture and curtains at the tall windows, was filled with people. James recognised nurses, medical students, porters, even a couple of ward maids, all merrily wielding paint brushes side by side. The decorators were there, too, in their brown overalls, looking askance at the efforts of those around them. Over in the corner, a gramophone was playing.
    And in the middle of it all was Kathleen Fox. James picked her out straight away, halfway up a ladder, painting a window frame. He barely recognised her in paint-spattered overalls, her chestnut hair wrapped up in a colourful scarf.
    He stood in the doorway, watching her for a moment as she chatted happily to the young medical student beside her. But then she spotted him and came down the ladder to greet him.
    ‘Mr Cooper!’ She had a smudge of white paint across her nose. ‘This is a surprise. What are you doing here?’
    ‘I’ve just come out of Theatre.’ He gazed around him. ‘You seem to have mobilised quite an army!’ he commented.
    ‘Oh, I can’t take the credit for it,’ she dismissed. ‘I simply explained the situation and everyone volunteered to help the decorators get finished in time for tomorrow. Although between you and me, I’m not sure they’re entirely appreciative of our efforts!’ she confided with a smile.
    ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
    ‘I wouldn’t be too certain. Poor Mr Brewer the foreman is doing his best to keep control of everyone, but I feel the situation is getting away from him!’
    She grinned. James didn’t think he had ever seen her looking so full of life. Out of her severe black uniform, she looked far younger than her forty-odd years, laughter sparkling in her grey eyes.
    ‘It’s looking splendid anyway,’ he said.
    ‘Do you think so?’ Kathleen looked around her. ‘We won’t be able to get all the furniture back in place and the curtains up until the paint’s dry tomorrow morning, but hopefully it should all be ready by the time the casualties start to arrive.’
    ‘You’ve done very well.’
    She blushed. ‘I felt I should correct my mistake,’ she admitted quietly.
    ‘Not to mention prove Miss Hanley wrong?’
    Kathleen sent him a quick look, then a slow smile spread across her face. ‘I’m afraid you may be right,’ she admitted shamefaced. ‘Is that very terrible of me?’
    ‘Not terrible at all, if it means the ward is ready for when the men arrive. But you do realise if you manage to pull this off, Miss Hanley will probably claim it was all her idea?’
    ‘You may be right about that, too.’ Kathleen looked rueful. James had to fight the urge to reach out and rub the smudge of paint from her nose. ‘But we still have quite a lot to do, so I’m afraid Miss