She had got used to sleeping in the little bedroom in the flat and it felt strange to be back in her own bed on a permanent basis. Pull yourself together, she silently berated herself. No good can come of feeling sorry for yourself, you just have to get on with things now. And that’s exactly what she intended to do the very next morning when she would apply for a job at the cottage hospital.

The hospital was tiny compared to UCH with only twenty-six beds available for patients. It had been opened in 1900 by Lady Anne Emma Newdigate, the wife of Sir Edward Newdigate who owned Arbury Hall in Stockingford. Over breakfast Holly’s mother informed her that an operating theatre had been funded by donations the year before but now the hospital was struggling for funds because of the miners’ strike that had almost brought the local pits to a standstill some months before.

‘I’ve heard of miners’ families that have had to admit themselves into the Union Workhouse on the Bullring because their children were starving,’ Emma told her gravely. ‘It’s been very hard for them, poor souls. Still, at least the strike is over now so hopefully things will improve for them. But whether there are any nursing jobs going at the hospital I couldn’t say. Why don’t you just have a few days rest before you go looking for a job? You don’t seem yourself.’

‘No, I’d rather be busy,’ Holly answered as she helped herself to a slice of toast, and Emma wisely didn’t say any more.

Soon after Holly set off and once she reached the hospital she was directed to Matron Connor’s office. She was a small, plump woman with a sunny smile and a kindly nature, nothing at all like the strict matron in London who Holly had become accustomed to.

‘You do realise that the staff here are very limited, don’t you?’ she said when Holly told her why she was there. ‘I also have to fill the role of housekeeper as the hospital is run entirely on donations. We have five nurses and one doctor, Dr Nason, who is also the surgeon here. Last year we added two new wards, Victoria Ward and Mary Ward, which is for the children. Luckily for you one of our nurses is due to leave next week so perhaps you could take her place. I would need a reference though.’

‘Oh, that isn’t a problem,’ Holly assured her. ‘The matron at UCH told me that she would be happy to do one for me, or you could speak to her yourself on the telephone if you wish.’

Matron nodded and went on to tell Holly what would be expected of her should she get the position. ‘I’m afraid we are terribly underfunded,’ she admitted with a sigh. ‘And most of the children who are admitted here are beyond our help. The majority of their illnesses stem from poor diet and living conditions but we always try to make their end as peaceful as we possibly can.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s why the mortuary at the back of the hospital is rarely empty. I’m not trying to put you off,’ she added hurriedly when she saw the look of horror on Holly’s face. ‘I’m merely trying to be truthful. Of course we do have a measure of success with some of them, the trouble is when they are better we have to send them home to the slums again. Some of their parents could do with learning some parenting skills. But still, you will see for yourself hopefully. Perhaps you could come and see me again in a couple of days’ time when I’ve had time to speak to your old matron and then we’ll discuss working hours, wages, etc.’