The Last Garden in England(48)

“Miss Adderton,” said Miss Cynthia.

“If you wish,” said Stella, folding her hands behind her back.

“We have rather a dilemma. Some of the nurses have asked for a dance to be held at Highbury House,” said Father Devlin.

“I will not have the nurses dancing with the patients in their care,” said Miss Cynthia, her tone severe.

“I believe you’ll find that it’s my responsibility to make that sort of decision on behalf of my nurses,” said Matron.

“Surely you wouldn’t begrudge the few men who are fit enough the chance to shuffle around the floor,” said Father Devlin with a smile.

“It is not the shuffling I’m concerned with.” Miss Cynthia crossed her hands primly over her knee. “It would be wholly inappropriate for a nurse to dance with a man under her care. Why, it could create chaos in the wards.”

“There is a time and a place for a little fun. Besides, one nurse to every ten patients won’t make for a good ratio,” said Matron.

“But that is where Miss Adderton might come in handy. Where would we procure some young people to make up a crowd?” asked Father Devlin.

“I would like to point out that I have not yet agreed to host a dance in my home,” said Mrs. Symonds.

Stella looked among the four of them, not knowing the right answer.

“You can speak your mind,” said Father Devlin gently. “It’s only a friendly question.”

“Well, there are the land girls,” Stella started. “I have a friend who says that they organize dances, and girls come from across the county for it.”

The priest clapped his hands together. “Excellent idea!”

“You could also invite the men from the air base. And the WAAFs,” Stella added, remembering the women serving in the Royal Air Force’s auxiliary branch who worked in support roles at the base.

“If the officers from the base came as well, it would keep the men in line,” said Matron.

“It could be a tea dance. There’s nothing more innocent than a tea dance,” said Father Devlin.

Miss Cynthia squinted at him. “I didn’t think the church would approve.”

“I know enough about men to understand that they are never so mischievous as when they are restless.”

“Women, too,” muttered Matron into the edge of her cup.

“A well-chaperoned dance will lift their spirits, and I dare say it will do much the same for your nurses, Matron McPherson,” said Father Devlin.

Miss Cynthia shook her head. “No. I don’t think it would be proper. I really can’t have my nurses cavorting with pilots, either.”

“My nurses,” Matron reminded the commandant.

“I can understand why the Voluntary Aid Detachment would not want to be seen as endorsing such an activity, Cynthia,” said Mrs. Symonds.

Father Devlin sighed.

“Thank you, Diana. I appreciate when someone is able to see reason,” said Miss Cynthia.

Stella, who had not yet been dismissed, saw something flicker in her employer’s eye when Mrs. Symonds turned to her.

“Now, if I invite the land girls to a dance at Highbury House, would your friend Miss Pedley be able to spread the word?” Mrs. Symonds asked.

Miss Cynthia’s cup clattered against its saucer as she jolted. “But you just said…”

“I never said there wouldn’t be a dance. I said that you, as the head of this convalescent hospital, might not want to endorse it. However, Highbury House is still my home, and I may still choose to organize a dance here,” said Mrs. Symonds.

Miss Cynthia sucked in a breath. “I will remind you that the ballroom currently houses Ward C. I cannot authorize the removal of beds for such frivolity.”

Mrs. Symonds waved her hand. “The dance will be held on the veranda. We might risk the weather a little bit, but I think the effect will be lovely. Don’t you?”

Stella couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. A dance at Highbury. What a thing that would be.

“Miss Adderton, this is more Mrs. Dibble’s area, but you wouldn’t happen to know the level of our wine cellar reserves, would you?” Mrs. Symonds asked.

Father Devlin laughed. “What of our tea dance?”

“When I was a deb, I never could abide tea dances. Tepid, insipid things. If I’m to throw a party, it will be a good one,” said Mrs. Symonds.

Miss Cynthia was beginning to look positively pale. “The nursing staff—”

“If I might, Mrs. Symonds. I think you’ll find that you could sell tickets for six pence each and donate the money to a charitable cause. Like the British Red Cross or Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nursing Corps,” said Stella.

Mrs. Symonds cut her a look, and for a moment she thought that her employer would object. Instead, the woman’s face brightened.

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Miss Adderton,” said Mrs. Symonds.

“Very noble indeed, and one I’m sure that everyone at Highbury House would be glad to take part in,” Father Devlin agreed.

Miss Cynthia leaned back in her chair, defeated. “If anything happens…”

“Patients and nurses are not animals, Cynthia. They will be able to control themselves through a fox-trot or two,” said Mrs. Symonds.