14. Sister Evangelina
"One can't turn one's back for a moment! Whatever next: Freddie on a motorbike and Davey cycling down Leyland Street with his mates?"
Chummy looked up from helping Freddie with his tricycle. Jenny Lee was walking up the lane with a suitcase in hand.
"Jenny!" Chummy cried. Jenny set her case down at the garden gate and ran to her old friend for a tight hug.
"Oh, it's so good of you to have me," Jenny murmured into Chummy's shoulder.
"But of course. Apparently, Nonnatus House filled up with far-flung alumni faster than one could say 'dearly departed Sister.' Now. Let's see that ring of yours."
That past summer, Jenny's letters had been one of Chummy's favorite distractions on the maternity ward. Jenny had been certain that her boyfriend Philip, a young lawyer with an artist's soul and a gentle brogue, was on the verge of a proposal. And better yet: Jenny was fully prepared to accept. When Davey was born, Chummy lost the plot of this real-life romance novel. Until one day, Peter added a slightly different card to the growing collection of well wishes on her hospital bedside table. It was an invitation to Jenny and Phillip's wedding next March.
Back in July, next March had seemed a lifetime away. Chummy felt every moment drag by as she laid in hospital, the painkillers trapping her between hazy waking and vivid dreams. It felt as if the doctors had taken out her baby and replaced him with a millstone. Until she tried to move, that is- and the millstone would turn into knives.
And to think: now they were halfway there…
Jenny thrust her left hand forward. Chummy gasped.
"Gosh, what an absolute boulder! You must be careful not to blind oncoming motorists with their own headlights. Does your hand feel fit to fall off by the end of the day?"
"Don't be silly. It's only .75 carat," Jenny said coyly.
"Oh. Is it? …Well. It's absolutely top hole, Jenny."
Chummy had never learned how to judge engagement rings on the spot- despite the dozens of rocks thrust beneath her nose in finishing school alone. She only knew that the diamond should be large and bright, and the bride-to-be happy. In that respect, it seemed that Philip Worth had checked off all the boxes.
They dropped off Jenny's suitcase in the foyer. Chummy led her through the sitting and dining rooms, back to the kitchen. Freddie clung to his mother's skirts with every step. He was wary of the stranger who- little did he know- had once burped him and changed his napkins on the regular.
Peter was at the kitchen sink, bathing Davey and half-singing, half-scatting Bobby Darin's "Splish Splash." Jenny giggled.
"Hello, Sergeant Noakes."
"Hello, Nurse Lee. Suppose we won't be calling you that much longer," he smiled. "Congratulations. Philip's a lucky man."
"You're too kind," Jenny blushed.
Chummy moved to fetch the sympathy casserole. Poor little Freddie almost got a refrigerator door to the face. Peter flicked a few drops of bathwater at the back of Freddie's head.
"Hey. Buckaroo. Give Mummy some air. She and Auntie Jenny are leaving, anyways."
"We should be back by supper," Chummy told Peter. "But I can't promise we won't be recruited. There's always so much to do at a time like this."
"Well if you're not back before my shift, I'll take the boys to Mrs. Caplan." He gave her a peck on the cheek. "Give everyone my regards."
It seemed the whole East End still recognized Chummy as a former Nonnatus nurse. So when they spotted her and Jenny's black armbands, they just had to offer their condolences. Chummy and Jenny couldn't walk half a block without being stopped:
"We 'eard about Sister Evangelina, we did. Such a shame. And so sudden, innit?"
"Oh I'm just heartbroken, loves. She delivered three of my eight. Always made me feel safe, she did."
"I remember her fetchin milk for my little uns when we was in the bomb shelter."
"She changed me old dad's dressings twice a week for eight months. Never failed to put him at ease, jokin and laughin an' all. I know she was born up near Reading, but she may as well've been one of us."
"You've got the right idea there, Nurse. I jus' popped in with a covered dish, meself. Least we can do at a time like this, innit?"
Jenny was incognito without her nurse's uniform. Several neighbors asked if she was a relation of Nurse Noakes'. But then Yvonne Bridges waved them down, calling, "Nurse Lee! Nurse Lee!" She made their way to them as quickly as she could, given the toddler at her side, the baby in the pram, and the third on the way.
Jenny and Trixie had delivered Yvonne's eldest, Joy. They had allowed Alan Bridges to stay with his wife during labor, which had meant the world to the young couple. Now there were hugs all around. Chummy and Jenny fussed over the growing Bridges family. Yvonne caught sight of Jenny's ring, which launched another round of cooing. It pleased her to no end to learn that Jenny's betrothed was a Scotsman.
"Promise me you'll take your kiddos to Highland dancing classes. They've got competitions for it and everything!" Yvonne gushed. Then she stopped short. "Sorry. We shouldn't be carrying on like this, today of all days. What would the Sister say?"
Chummy considered the question, and smiled.
"I suppose she'd grouse a bit. 'Silly young girls, distracted by all things shiny' and all that. But in fact, I'm quite sure she'd be simply chuffed for Jenny. And proud as well."
There was a line out of the front door of Nonnatus House and halfway down the block. Jenny and Chummy joined the queue like everyone else. The heavy air grew darker and colder; the electric streetlights came on. There was gentle laughter in the crowd, as folks shared stories of Sister Evangelina's brusque and indomitable heroism. Their tales warmed hearts, but not numb toes or wind-stung cheeks. Jenny began to shiver. Chummy was getting cramps, and her skirt felt tighter than when she'd left home.
Trixie and Sister Mary Cynthia cycled up, with their big leather bags of midwives' tools on the racks behind their seats. A woman in the queue called out: "You girls jus' come from the Anselm wedding?"
"Yes. Noelle has a little boy. Mother and baby are doing well," Trixie reported. Then she gasped. "Oh! Jenny!"
It was Chummy's bridal party reunited: Jenny, Trixie, Cynthia, and herself. Another round of hugs and fussing commenced- though they kept the squealing to a minimum, given the setting. Trixie took the casserole dish off Chummy's hands.
"Oh, sweetie. Half the housewives of Poplar have had the same idea- especially after Tom asked his congregation to stop bringing flowers. We've had to organize food drives into Stepney! Are you alright? You look a bit peaky."
Chummy bit her lip. Here her old friends were busy as ever, bringing new life into the world, mourning a life lost, distributing charitable casseroles. And she was out of sorts from a mere two-mile walk and a half hour of standing around.
"I wouldn't thumb my nose at an ice water bottle," she confessed. "After we pay our respects, of course."
"Of course," Sister Mary Cynthia said gently. "I'll go and fill a bottle."
Trixie and Sister Mary Cynthia hurried inside, as Chummy and Jenny edged towards the stoop. Jenny was still trembling. Now with her hands free, Chummy drew Jenny against her side. Even once they made it indoors, Jenny kept shaking. Chummy realized her friend was affected by more than just the cold.
"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I didn't realize it would be so hard, coming back… And for another funeral…"
Two years ago, when Jenny was still at Nonnatus House, her boyfriend Alec had died following a work accident. Everyone liked Alec. Like Jenny, he had a good heart beneath a sophisticated wit. He'd been eager to help improve the East End with his work for the council surveyors' office. He'd easily won over all of Jenny's friends, including Chummy and Peter. He and Jenny were so clearly sweet on each other. Peter, in particular, was convinced that Alec had been looking to his and Jenny's future together. And then…
Chummy gave Jenny her handkerchief. But she made no remarks about the hanky's 'magic'; she offered no 'come, come' or 'chin up, old thing.' Now was not the time.
They were inching nearer to the chapel. The queue was hushed. The smell of lily-of-the-valley and burning candles drifted through the hall, as the chill of night pressed against the old, warped-glass windowpanes.
They wouldn't have much time with her. Even in death, Sister Evangelina was needed by so many. Chummy walked into the chapel, holding her gold cross with one hand and Jenny's hand with the other. She searched her memory for a bit of the Scriptures one heard at funerals.
"My soul fleeth unto the Lord, before the morning watch…"
She choked up. She and Jenny had only a glimpse of the sturdy figure in the casket, with the coarse blue habit, the large wooden cross- and the shroud over her face.
Sister Evangelina was gone. Truly gone. And they had to walk on, into a life without her. They didn't dare hold up the queue. But even if they had, no matter how long they lingered, it would still feel as if they'd left too soon.
Sister Mary Cynthia met them in the hall, with an ice water bottle and a tea tray. She ushered them into the sitting room. Jenny and the Sister took two easy chairs, while Chummy laid across the settee with the water bottle on her lap. Hadn't she laid across this same settee, not half a year ago? Sister Evangelina had been enjoying a well-earned hiatus at the Mother House then. And Chummy had had a new life inside her, growing just beneath her heart.
Neither of those things would ever happen again.
Jenny had dried her eyes and regained some equilibrium. She breathed deep from the steam off her tea, then smiled at Sister Mary Cynthia.
"I'm sure this is the question of the hour, but: Any favorite memories of Sister Evangelina?"
"Yes, actually," Sister Mary Cynthia said brightly. "When I'd first started implementing Dr. Latham's calming techniques in deliveries, Sister Evangelina was, well, highly skeptical."
"Naturally," Jenny quipped.
"We went out together for Nellie Short's labor. Sister Evangelina must have rolled her eyes at me clear through stage two. But Nellie did wonderfully. I really think the visualizations helped her make peace with her late mother's absence."
For a moment they just sat and listened to the crackle of the fireplace.
"Anyway." Sister Mary Cynthia brushed back the side of her habit, like she used to do with her hair before she took her vows. "Once Nellie had her baby in her arms, and all was well, you should've seen the look Sister Evangelina gave me. I'd never seen her so proud."
"It sounds not unlike my experience with Betty Smith, when her little Rosemarie arrived breech," Chummy piped up. "When Sister Evangelina and Dr. Turner came in, at a rather critical juncture, I actually ordered them both to be quiet."
"Really, Chummy! You didn't!" Jenny marveled.
"I did what was best for my patient. And Sister Evangelina respected me for it, I think. At least, that's when she stopped calling me 'Miss La-Di-Da'."
"She was very protective of the East End," Sister Mary Cynthia noted. "Which was admirable."
"Abrasive, but admirable," Jenny smiled.
"And what about you, Jenny? Give us your best war story."
"Oh but it's silly," she sighed. "I can't believe this is all that comes to mind…"
"Never mind that. Come on, let's hear it."
"Well… do you remember poor old Mrs. Jenkins? How difficult it was to gain her trust? Sister Evangelina was the first to get through to her, and she did it by, erm… by farting, actually," Jenny giggled. "Loud, long, and apparently on demand!"
"I believe it," Sister Mary Cynthia said wryly. "You should've heard her at the Mother House, after her hysterectomy."
Chummy frowned as she sat up. Sister Evangelina had a hysterectomy? While Cynthia was at the Mother House? But that was only just last year… Peter was boarding here at the time…
"Are you alright?" Jenny asked Chummy.
"Quite," she said softly. "I'll just go and dump this old bottle out. If you'll excuse me."
The kitchen counters were stuffed with casseroles and cake pans, some stacked three or four high. The table was full of flowers, gifted before or despite Reverend Hereward's announcement. Daisies and white chrysanthemums mostly, they waited for tomorrow's service in vases of sugared vinegar water.
Chummy moved cautiously through the sea of glass and ceramic containers. She heard a clink of china as Sister Mary Cynthia approached. She sidled out of the way. Hoping to avoid a collision, she gently grabbed the Sister's shoulders from behind-
"NO!"
The tea tray flew against the far wall. A large vase wobbled and fell. Chummy crunched wet glass shards underfoot as she backed away from the young nun. Sister Mary Cynthia's chest was heaving; her nostrils flared; her wide eyes were fixed on something only she could see.
"…Cynthia?"