The Village Nurse's Happy-Ever-After Read online

  The elderly nurse nodded and looking towards the newcomer said, ‘He’s very sombre, not the guy he used to be. Harry was always happy and carefree but, then, he has just lost his wife in tragic circumstances. Why don’t you go and sort out your calls while he’s on the phone and introduce yourself to him afterwards?’

  ‘Harry, it’s Ethan here,’ the voice at the other end of the line had said when the receptionist handed him the phone. ‘Clearly you’ve arrived safely and are already on the job, so every good wish from all of us here! It gives me a good feeling to know that you are taking up where I left off.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ Harry told him. ‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is here. With regard to the practice, I’ve gathered all the staff together and introduced myself. I’m also very happy with the apartment, it’s really smart. Am I right in thinking that my aunt has been involved in the make-over?’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ was the reply. ‘Have you spoken to Barbara yet?’

  ‘No. I intend to go to Four Winds House this evening if she and Keith don’t show up before then.’

  ‘Fine, but prepare yourself for a shock when you see her. Barbara’s mobility is very limited and her heart isn’t good. She’s being treated for that by her new son-in-law, my friend Lucas Devereux, who is a heart surgeon. He and your cousin Jenna were married a year ago and have a baby girl called Lily.’

  They’d continued the conversation for a little while longer and by the time Harry was replacing the receiver Phoebe was almost ready to set off on her home visits. First, however, she needed to make herself known to him in a proper manner after the strangeness of their first meeting, if it could be described as that.

  He’d turned away from the Reception desk and as she moved towards him, the first thing he observed about her was the pale perfection of her skin. After spending years in a country where women were often very tanned by the sun, it was breathtaking.

  Trimly dressed in the dark blue dress of her calling, Phoebe had taken her hair off her face into a neat coil held back by a comb. It wasn’t until his gaze met hers that Harry thought there couldn’t be two pairs of big brown eyes like that on the surgery premises. But that was the only similarity to the ragamuffin who’d been watching him unlock the door of his new home the night before. He put out a feeler.

  ‘I think we’ve already met,’ he said dryly, before she could explain why she was late. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ she told him, holding out a smooth, ringless hand for him to shake. ‘I’m Phoebe Howard, the district nurse attached to the practice. Last night you caught me in the middle of painting the ceiling—I’m afraid when I heard you coming up the stairs I had to check as it’s been rather spooky with just the two of us up there.’

  And what was that supposed to mean? he wondered. If she was living with a husband or partner one might expect that they would do the decorating. Yet a vision of Cassie came to mind. She’d been good at that sort of thing, said it kept her occupied when he was working long hours at the hospital where he’d been employed for most of his time in Australia.

  She used to have a go at anything, had often been reckless, but it had seemed as if she’d had a charmed life. Until one Saturday morning, when they’d had words because he hadn’t been free to do what she’d wanted which was to try out her new car.

  He’d been on duty at the hospital, and as far as he’d been concerned, his patients had come first, so Cassie had set off in a huff and while driving along a remote road in the outback, the driver of a large oncoming truck had swerved into her path. The consequences had been disastrous—he’d lost his wife in a matter of seconds.

  The accident had been six months ago and coming to terms with it had been grim. Thankfully they’d had no children to be left motherless. They’d both been of a like mind, that there had been plenty of time for that, though for very different reasons.

  On Cassie’s part, it had been because she hadn’t been quite ready to give up what she’d seen as her freedom. But on Harry’s part, it had been because he’d had a baby brother who had died from a genetic illness when he had been just a child himself. Yet, he’d been old enough to experience the frightening feeling of loss, and growing up as the remaining child of grief-stricken parents, the fear of bringing a child into the world and then losing it always lurked in the recesses of his mind.

  He’d seen his mother weeping and his father’s permanently sad expression, and had thought that it was better not to have babies if the angels were going to take them up to heaven.

  ‘I’m sorry I was late arriving,’ the young nurse beside him was saying apologetically, and bringing his thoughts back to bear on why he was standing there, Harry said briskly, ‘That’s OK, just as long as it isn’t a habit.’

  Hoping that in days to come the new senior partner wouldn’t feel that unavoidable came into the same category as a habit, Phoebe managed a strained smile. Then picking up the case that held what she needed for her patients, she went quickly out through the main door of the surgery.

  Her first call of the day was to the home of a man who had just been diagnosed with insulin-dependent diabetes. Frank Atkinson was a newly retired forestry worker and she’d explained the procedure of injecting himself the previous day. Now she was on her way to check if he was having any problems.

  Always a frightening ordeal at first, most people soon got into a routine and accepted the inevitability of it. Sure enough, when she arrived at a pretty thatched cottage on the coast road she found that he had coped and was less agitated than on the day before.

  As was often the case, there was hospitality on offer. His wife Betty, who knew something of the circumstances of the young district nurse, had coffee and shortbread waiting when Phoebe had finished dealing with her husband.

  ‘I won’t say no,’ she said thankfully. ‘My little one is teething and was really out of sorts this morning, so I didn’t have time to have any breakfast. I mustn’t linger, though. We have a new doctor in charge of the practice and I’ve already made a poor start by being late, so don’t want to transgress any further! He has the look of a man who doesn’t suffer fools gladly.’

  ‘Surely he will make allowances for you being a single mother,’ Betty protested.

  ‘I suppose he might if he knew, but we only met last night. He doesn’t yet know I have a child, and when he does I won’t be expecting any favours. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the staff.’

  When she was ready to go, Betty walked to the bottom of the garden path with her. Wistfully she said, ‘Under any other circumstances, Frank would have been holding forth about trees this morning—they’re his favourite subject—but not any more. I used to weary of it sometimes, but now I’d give anything to hear about the oaks and the elms and the sycamores.’

  ‘I’m sure that you will be hearing about them again soon, Betty,’ Phoebe told her consolingly. As she left, she said reassuringly, ‘I’ll call again tomorrow and for as long as it takes for Frank to be completely confident when injecting the insulin.’

  There was another new patient on her list of calls, and as she pulled up in front of a shop across from the harbour that sold fishing tackle, it was clear that its owner had been on the lookout for her. The moment she stepped out of the car, a young blonde guy with a beard came striding out and without wasting a second said, ’I’m Jake Stephenson and the patient is my young nephew Rory. He’s staying with me for a while as both his parents are in hospital after a car crash.

  ‘Rory was hurt too, but to a lesser degree. However, he has a nasty leg wound that I’ve been told he mustn’t put any weight on for the time being. The hospital phoned the surgery to ask for a district nurse to come and dress the wound, and keep an eye on it.’

  He was leading the way back into the shop and Phoebe followed, not having been able to get a word in so far. But she was used to anxiety creating a non-stop spate of words, and had listened carefully to what he had been saying.

  ‘Here he
is,’ he said, opening the door of a sitting room at the back of the shop. A young teenage boy, with a bandaged leg resting on a stool in front of him, looked up from the computer game he was playing for a moment and then went back to it.

  ‘Switch that off for a moment, Rory,’ the harassed uncle ordered, and the boy obeyed reluctantly.

  ‘Hello, there,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’ve come to have a look at your leg, Rory.’

  He nodded sullenly but didn’t speak, and kneeling beside him she gently removed the dressing.

  When the injury was revealed she saw that a deep gash had been stitched, most likely from when he’d first been taken to A and E after the crash. However, the skin around it over quite a large area had been scraped off and was looking sore and weepy, so she hesitated before using more of the cream he’d been given by the hospital.

  ‘It’s my dad’s fault,’ the youngster grumbled as he looked down at his leg. ‘He always drives too fast. I hate him. Supposing I can’t play footie again!’

  ‘Shush,’ she said gently. ‘It would have to be much worse than this for that to happen. I’m going to ask one of the doctors from the surgery to come and look at your leg.’ Signalling to Jake to go back into the shop so they could talk, she smiled at Rory reassuringly and followed his uncle as he led the way out of the room.

  ‘If only Rory wasn’t so difficult,’ he said when they were out of his hearing. ‘He isn’t usually like this.’

  ‘He’s feeling frightened and insecure,’ she told him. ‘The poor boy has been involved in a car crash, which must have been terrifying. Even though from the sound of it his parents were the ones most seriously hurt, all he can see at the moment is what it did to him.’

  She was reaching for her mobile phone. ‘I’m going to see if Dr Fenchurch is back from his rounds. I need a second opinion before I treat the leg again with the same procedure as before.’

  ‘I’m afraid Leo isn’t here,’ Millie on Reception told her when she answered the phone. ‘His car broke down as he was leaving his last house call, and he’s out there waiting for the breakdown services to show up. But Dr Balfour is here, and if you give us the address, he says he’ll be right with you.’

  Phoebe almost groaned out loud. Since he’d arrived back on his home ground, she’d met the abrupt man twice in the space of twenty-four hours. And each time she hadn’t come out of it as the epitome of efficiency.

  He was bound to think that she should be able to deal with this sort of problem with her eyes shut, she thought rebelliously. But Rory was an injured youngster who was frightened and hurting because of his family’s carelessness, and if he couldn’t rely on his father to do the right thing by him, he could rely on her. She knew he needed a second opinion on that leg of his so grudgingly, she gave the address.

  When Harry Balfour came striding into the cluttered shop premises ten minutes later, he found Phoebe drinking the coffee that a grateful Jake Stephenson had insisted on offering her, and he frowned. It didn’t look much like an emergency at first glance, he thought. But she put the cup down immediately and took him into the sitting room where Rory was, and he had to change his assumption.

  As soon as he saw the boy’s leg, he knew that the district nurse had been right to send for a doctor.

  ‘How long is it since they sent Rory home from the hospital?’ he asked as he scrutinised the wound.

  ‘Last night,’ Jake told him.

  ‘How long since the accident?

  ‘A couple of days before. His parents are still in there, both with concussion, broken legs and pelvic injuries. Once they’d seen to Rory’s leg, the doctors decided that he would be better out of hospital and sent him to me, his uncle, for the time being.’

  So far Phoebe hadn’t spoken. Harry Balfour had that effect on her, making her clam up when she should be showing him that she was no pushover. When he turned to her after he’d finished examining the leg, he found himself looking into her wide brown gaze and seeing a defiant kind of wariness there.

  Yet not for long. It quickly turned to surprise when he said crisply, ‘You were right to send for one of us. I’m of the opinion that Rory is allergic to the antiseptic cream they gave him at the hospital. Although it is highly recommended by most doctors, I have heard of the occasional case where the patient has had an allergic reaction to one of its components, so we will change the ointment and check the condition of the injury once again after twenty-four hours.’

  He was writing out a prescription as he spoke and said to Phoebe, ‘I see there’s a chemist two doors away. If you would like to pop in there and get this made up, perhaps Mr. Stephenson might have another cup of coffee on offer before I depart.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  SO HARRY BALFOUR was human after all, Phoebe thought while the chemist was making up the prescription. Not as approachable as that nice guy Jake maybe, but not quite as scary and abrupt as she’d at first thought. Although, of course, it was early days. He didn’t yet know there was a teething infant just across the landing, and his reaction to that might depend on just how much he valued his sleep!

  When she returned to the shop, he’d departed, leaving a message to say he’d gone back to the practice to prepare for the second surgery of the day. So once she had put the new antiseptic cream on Rory’s leg and placed a clean dressing over the infected area, she bade uncle and nephew goodbye, promising to return the next day to check on the effects of the new cream, and proceeded to the next housebound patient on her list.

  She was back at the surgery by half past three. After updating her patients’ records, Phoebe was about to depart just after four when Harry came out of his consulting room. Observing that she was dressed for going out into the cold January day once more, he asked, ‘Have you had another callout?’

  She smiled weakly. ‘Er, no. I finish at four. Ethan agreed that I could.’

  ‘I see,’ he commented. ‘And you didn’t think fit to inform me of an arrangement you’d made with my predecessor?’

  ‘It is in my records, Dr Balfour.’

  ‘Maybe, but I only arrived back in Bluebell Cove late last night. Since I presented myself here in the surgery at a very early hour this morning, there have been many things I needed to get to know. As you might imagine, checking staff records is low on my list of priorities at the moment.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It was remiss of me not to mention it,’ she said, uncomfortable in the knowledge that he hadn’t the slightest idea why she was allowed to finish early, and probably wasn’t going to be over the moon when he found out.

  Ethan had agreed to her finishing at four each day when she’d started work at the end of her maternity leave, and she’d been most grateful—it had meant she’d been able to collect Marcus from the nursery earlier than she’d expected. The normal finishing time for surgery staff was six-thirty, so the early finish gave her an extra two and a half hours each weekday evening with her baby. It had meant less pay but time with Marcus came first.

  ‘So you’d better be off, then, hadn’t you, if that’s the arrangement?’ Harry said into the middle of the awkward moment. ‘We’ll have a chat regarding your hours when I’ve had the chance to settle in properly.’

  She nodded and went hurrying off. Watching her go, he wondered what it was about her that brought out the worst in him.

  Was it because she was so strangely beautiful…and alive?

  When Phoebe arrived at the nursery the report on Marcus was that he’d been a little fretful but otherwise fine. She breathed a sigh of relief. There was no indication that the tooth that was bothering him had come through but at least, from what Beth had said, he hadn’t been crying all day.

  Teething, walking, talking…they were all natural processes in the normal growth of a child, she thought, but could still prove to be times of anxiety for the parent until they had been safely achieved.

  From half past six onwards, after the surgery had closed, Phoebe was listening for the footsteps on the stairs, but all was silent. She won
dered if Harry was still down there catching up with more information regarding the running of the surgery, or if he had gone out somewhere.

  Marcus had been asleep for hours and she was about to slide under the covers herself when she heard him come upstairs. It was gone ten o’clock, and Phoebe felt herself relaxing. They may not have had the best of introductions, the single mother and the abrupt widower, but it was good to feel that she wasn’t on her own above the sprawling surgery complex.

  Barbara Balfour had rung Harry late that morning to pass on a word of welcome, and to enquire if everything had been in order both below and above when he’d arrived the night before.

  ‘Yes,’ he’d told her, ‘everything is fine.’

  ‘So will you come and dine with us tonight, Harry?’ she’d said. ‘We are both so pleased to have you back here in Bluebell Cove. It seems a long time since you and Jenna used to take your surfboards down to the beach for hours on end.’

  ‘That’s because it is a long time, Aunt Barbara,’ he’d said with one of his rare smiles. ‘It seems strange to think of Jenna married with a baby.’

  ‘Strange or not, it is so,’ he’d been assured. ‘Her husband Lucas is a cardiac surgeon. I’m one of his patients, as a matter of fact. Our son-in-law is also a great friend of Ethan. He and Francine are godparents to our little Lily.’

  ‘It all sounds very happy and cosy.’ he’d said lightly, relieved that she hadn’t been able to witness the envy in his expression.

  Nonetheless, he’d accepted Barbara’s invitation. Having been warned by Ethan about the physical deterioration of his hostess, he had concealed his dismay when he saw her, while at the same time taking note that the razor-sharp mind was still very much in evidence.

  After a pleasant evening with his relations, he’d left, promising Barbara that he would keep her informed about what was going on at the practice. At the moment of departure he’d paused and asked, ‘Did you know that the other apartment is occupied, Aunt Barbara?’