When the breakfast shift was over, though, Lily was assigned to folding sheets, blankets, and towels fresh from the laundry, which meant her mind was free to wander straight back to where her thoughts had been when she came into the hospital. Where they wandered most of the time, if she was being honest.
At least today she had some actual problems to solve in regards to Zivon. She knew he’d be working a half day on Saturday, as usual. But what could she offer as distraction during the afternoon that Daddy wouldn’t object to?
Maybe . . . maybe something with a group. He didn’t seem to mind those sorts of activities so much. It was a bit short notice to gather many guests, but she could see who wasn’t busy. If she got Mama on board, they might be able to get approval for a garden party—or a tea party, if the weather didn’t cooperate. She would invite Ara and Cam, and Clarke, of course, some other colleagues from OB40. She’d even see if Brook was available. And perhaps some of the Russians Zivon had mentioned meeting at church—the Suvorovs, the Smirnovs. Surely Zivon would like that.
It wasn’t a bad idea. Though the fact that Mama was the linchpin made her nervous. It was true that she’d championed Zivon . . . but Lily was fairly certain that was mostly to irritate Daddy.
She put the last folded sheet in the basket and glanced at her watch. An hour left in her shift here. She’d ask if she could borrow the telephone in Arabelle’s office and ring up Mama. Maybe it would be easier to carry on an actual conversation with her over the telephone.
It couldn’t possibly go worse than every other attempt she’d made. It seemed every time she found Mama alone and opened her mouth, prepared to bare her heart and say how much she missed their friendship, her mother would leave the room before she had a chance, or speak first about something so impersonal that Lily didn’t know how to build the bridge to what she really wanted to say.
She hurried up the stairs, repositioning the mask that she’d taken off while in the steamy laundry facilities, and deposited the fresh sheets in the closet. Then she turned toward her friend’s office.
Arabelle was coming out of it. “I was just going to come looking for you, Lily. Would you run a note to Cam for me when you go to the OB? I’m afraid I can’t get away for lunch with him today.”
“Of course.” Though she frowned at the thought of her friend taking no time away from the ward. No doubt she’d be missing that chance for a respite by the end of her shift.
“Perfect. I’ve left it on my desk. Just run in and grab it before you leave.”
“I will. And I was actually going to ask if I could borrow your telephone to ring my mother. It’ll only take a moment.”
“Of course. You know I—”
“Nurse Denler!” Another volunteer came careening from a ward. Her mask was a bit askew, her hair escaping her kerchief in frazzled strands. “One of the men with the fever—you’d better come. He’s turning blue, and I don’t know what to do!”
Murmuring a prayer through her mask, Arabelle took off every bit as quickly as the aide. Lily nearly followed, but she had no more idea what to do than the other VAD. The man needed Arabelle, a trained nurse, not her.
She could pray, though, and she did as she slipped into the office. For wisdom for Ara and whatever doctor she’d likely call. For healing for the soldier. For calm in the ward.
The small envelope sat on the corner of the overcrowded desk, Camden scrawled hastily on the front. Lily picked it up and slipped it into her pocket, then turned toward the candlestick phone that had its own stand in the corner of the office. After drawing in a fortifying breath that did little to make her feel stronger, she asked the operator to connect her to Mayfair-1003.
“Hello?”
Her mother’s voice sounded . . . normal. Bright. Cheerful. Not the voice Lily had been hearing from her lately. Without warning, tears clogged her throat. How could she miss her so much, when they were still together every day?
“Hello?”
She cleared her throat. “Mama. It’s Lily. I had a question for you.”
A pulse of silence. “What is it?” And just like that, the sunshine had been eclipsed by clouds in her voice.
Lily’s eyes slid shut. “I need your help. This Saturday marks the day Mr. Marin should have been marrying his fiancée in Russia. I have to think he’ll be eaten up all day by guilt and sorrow.”
“Oh. The poor man. I hadn’t realized the date was so quickly upon us.” Mama sounded sincere in her sympathy. “We ought to do something kind for him.”
At least they could still agree on something. “That’s just what I’ve been thinking, and I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with something Daddy won’t object to. Do you think he would approve an afternoon garden party? Or tea party?”
Her mother made a scoffing sound, and it sounded like hope to Lily. “Let him try and stop us. If you can create a guest list during your lunch break, I’ll call at the OB and pick it up and have the invitations out before your father even gets home this evening. Be sure and put someone important on it so he won’t want to risk offending them by canceling.”
Perhaps her smile was a little sad, that they were resorting to clever manipulations rather than just enjoying the harmony they’d always had before. But it was a smile nonetheless. “I was thinking I’d invite Brook. Is a duchess important enough?”
Mama laughed. “That’ll do. I’ll go and discuss menu possibilities now with Cook. One o’clock at the front entrance of the OB, if you would.”
Lily promised. “Thank you, Mama,” she then said quietly into the receiver.
Was it her imagination, or was the silence a little lighter this time? “He’s a good man. He deserves better than what he got—and what he’s getting. Not to mention that any man who looks at you as he does is clearly sensible.”
Warmth swelled up like a flood. “I’ll see you at one.”
She rang off and slipped out of the office, hurrying forward when she spotted Ara coming out of the ward. “How is the patient?”
Even with most of her face invisible behind the mask, the horror was plain to see in Arabelle’s hazel eyes. “He’s . . . dead.”
“What?”
Ara shook her head. “I’ve never seen the like. He wasn’t even one of the first to fall ill. He only began complaining of nausea this morning, but he—he suffocated. His chest was clear earlier, but it just filled. . . .”
Lily’s stomach twisted. She reached to grip her friend’s hand. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. There was nothing anyone could do.” Closing her eyes, Arabelle drew in a sharp breath. “Let’s call your shift over, shall we? Go ahead to the OB and deliver that note to Cam for me. I’ll feel better when I know he and Margot and the others are praying.”
“Are you certain?”
“Very. Go.” After giving her fingers a squeeze, Ara pulled her hand free and gave Lily a little nudge.
It felt a bit like abandoning ship, but if that’s what Arabelle most needed, she would get the note to Major Camden with all speed. It took her only a few minutes to leave her mask in the laundry, pull her brolly from the rack, and hurry to the Old Building. After depositing her bag in the darkroom, she climbed the stairs up to the codebreakers’ lair.