The Village Nurse's Happy-Ever-After

He was smiling and she thought how different he looked when he did, but a second later he was the man in charge as he said, ‘You’ve got young Rory down for a visit, I hope.’

‘He’s top of my list, Dr Balfour,’ she said stiffly. ‘If I am still concerned about his leg I will be asking for your presence or that of Dr Fenchurch.’

‘Good,’ he said briskly, as if he hadn’t picked up on the drop in temperature. ‘Hope you have a good day after a not-so-good night. I see that the waiting room is filling up so must go.’ And off he went, wishing that he hadn’t come over as quite so bossy with Phoebe. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had him labelled as a control freak!

Conversely, as Phoebe drove the short distance to the fishing-tackle shop she was thinking that the man was only doing his job. So why had she let him get to her like that? He’d been kind and supportive in the middle of the night, even though she could tell that he wasn’t used to babies. It was ungrateful of her to take offence at what, to Harry, would just be part of the job.

The infection around the sutures on Rory’s leg had improved overnight, and with it the boy’s mood. As she changed the dressing, with his uncle looking on anxiously, Phoebe told him, ‘Make sure that he takes all the antibiotics he was given when he left the hospital, Jake. That and the different kind of ointment we’re using now should do the trick.’

He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘The last thing I would want to tell my sister is that her boy isn’t well, so that’s good news, Nurse.’

‘How are his parents progressing?’ she questioned.

‘Not bad, but they have a way to go yet before Hunter’s Hill will be ready to send them home. So it’s just the two of us for a while, isn’t it, Rory?’ he said to his nephew, who was still in his pyjamas.

‘Yes, Uncle Jake,’ he chirped. ‘And don’t forget, as soon as my leg is all right, we’re going out in your boat.’

‘There’s no chance of me forgetting,’ was the teasing reply. ‘You won’t let me!’

Jake turned to Phoebe. ‘How about a coffee before you go, Nurse?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks just the same, I’ve got a rather long list of patients to see and must be on my way.’

He was smiling. ‘If I can’t make you a drink, how about letting me take you for a sail when this young fellow is well enough to come along?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she told him gently. ‘You wouldn’t want a young baby on the boat.’

‘So you’re married,’ he said disappointedly.

‘No. I’m a single mother,’ she explained, and could tell from his expression that a possible relationship had just gone down the drain. Yet who could blame him? She couldn’t help but think it would take a lot for a man to be willing to fill the gap of a father in the life of another man’s child, however nice he was.

She’d also only met Jake for the first time the day before. It would take longer than that for her to want to know him better or introduce him to her son. But as a vision of Harry Balfour awkwardly holding Marcus safe and secure in his arms came to mind, she thought that she’d only known him for a similar length of time, yet she would trust him with her child.

When she arrived at her next call, pulling up in front of the biggest farmhouse in the area, Phoebe was amazed to see the man who had been in her thoughts getting out of the brand-new red convertible he’d had delivered to the surgery that morning. The question was immediately there in her mind—was he checking up on her?

It seemed that he wasn’t. Harry was already ringing the bell and called across to her, ‘Well timed. We have an emergency.’

She was out of her car in a flash and hurried to the door, wondering what could be wrong at Wheatlands Farm.

She visited the place every week to put a fresh dressing on a varicose ulcer that was plaguing old George Enderby, the patriarch of the family. As far as she was aware, that was the only thing wrong with the cheerful old guy, but if what Harry was saying was correct…

‘Is it George that you’re here about?’ she asked as footsteps pounded towards them from inside the house.

He shook his head. ‘No. A call came through to the surgery to say his daughter-in-law Pamela had fallen downstairs early this morning and almost knocked herself senseless with a crack to her head. She was soon back working on the farm, until a few minutes ago when suddenly she didn’t seem to know where she was.’

The door was being wrenched open as he spoke and George’s son Ian was there, his face taut with anxiety.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly, Harry,’ he said urgently. ‘I wasn’t expecting us to be renewing our acquaintance so soon. Pamela is upstairs resting with a huge bump on her head and isn’t very coherent.’

‘So let’s have a look, then,’ he said briskly, adding to Phoebe, ‘Come along, Nurse, you can see to your patient when we’ve sorted Mrs Enderby out.’

The swelling on Pamela Enderby’s head was huge and soft to the touch and her eyes weren’t functioning properly. Neither was her mind as Harry gently tried to get her to answer a few simple questions rationally.

Turning to her husband, he said in a low voice, ‘There is almost certainly bleeding inside the skull.’ He turned to Phoebe. ‘Phone for an ambulance, Nurse, and stress the urgency, while I check the patient’s heartbeat and pulse.’

She was about to confirm that the emergency services were hastening on their way when he said tightly, ‘Pamela’s gone into a coma.’ He placed his stethoscope against her chest. ‘There’s no heartbeat! Get ready to resuscitate!’

Together they worked on the patient until the ambulance arrived and paramedics stepped in with a defibrillator and then a faint rising and falling of the injured woman’s chest indicated that she was back with them.

Her husband had watched their efforts with tears streaming down his face and as the ambulance was leaving, with him by her side and a paramedic monitoring her heartbeat, he said raggedly, ‘Whatever the outcome of this, I will never forget what the two of you did back there.’

Before they could reply, he was gone with flashing lights and sirens wailing to warn other road users that the vehicle was carrying someone seriously ill or injured.

‘That was good teamwork, Phoebe,’ Harry said with one of his rare smiles when it had disappeared from sight.

It registered that he’d actually said her name, but there was no time for further thought as elderly George, the patient she’d originally come to see, appeared beside them looking distraught and decidedly unsteady on his feet.

‘I’ve kept out of the way,’ he said breathing heavily. ‘At my age I’m no good in a crisis. So what’s the verdict, Harry?’

‘Not too good at this moment, George,’ the doctor told him gently. ‘They will have to operate to control a brain haemorrhage. But she is still with us, so why don’t you let me make you a cup of tea while Nurse Howard changes the dressing on your leg? Or would you prefer a brandy under the circumstances?’

‘Yes, I would,’ he replied. ‘My heart isn’t too good and the last thing my son needs is me cracking up at a time like this.’ He was gazing out at the immaculate farm buildings and the land that belonged to them stretching as far as the eye could see. ‘All of this is great, Harry,’ he said brokenly, ‘but it means nothing when a life is at stake.’

Harry nodded understandingly. The Enderbys were obviously very wealthy, but the old guy had his priorities right.

‘Can I leave you to see to George?’ he asked Phoebe. ‘I left patients waiting to see me when I dashed over here.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she told him, adding as he turned to go, ‘It was great working with you.’

The reluctant smile was back and she thought if he kept it up, he might actually manage a laugh one day. To her amazement he replied, ‘It was good to have you assisting me, Nurse Howard.’ And then he was gone to face the sighs and fidgets of those awaiting his presence in the surgery.

Having dealt with George’s dressing and left him in the charge of the farm’s housekeeper, Phoebe continued her home visits. When she arrived back at the surgery late in the afternoon, keen to see if the rapport between herself and Harry was still there or just a momentary thing, she found him closeted with one patient after another and it was still so when she left to pick Marcus up at the nursery.

With the tooth now through, he was back to his usual state of contentment, greeting her with a big smile and a happy gurgle, and in that moment the other part of her life took over. He was all she had, and if that was how it was always going to be, she wasn’t going to complain. She’d made her choice when she split up with Darren and had no regrets about that.

Chapter Three

WHILE Phoebe was feeding and bathing Marcus before settling him down for sleep, it was the same as the night before—she was listening for footsteps on the stairs to let her know that Harry’s day at the practice was also over. This time she didn’t have long to wait.

She heard him come up just as her baby’s eyelids were closing, his dark lashes sweeping downwards and his small chest rising and falling steadily. Ridiculously, this time she wanted Harry to knock on her door so that she could see if the time they’d spent together with Pamela Enderby had really been as satisfying for him as it had been for her. His unexpected presence last night had also shown her another side to him that she wanted to see again.

Disappointed when she heard his door close behind him, she began to clear up after bathtime and was debating whether to get out the paint cans and brushes once more when the sound she’d been hoping for finally came.

While he’d been putting a ready meal in the oven to heat up, Harry had been debating whether it would be pushing it too far if he called on Phoebe again. Yet he felt he had to. It was going to be a frosty night and while her apartment had been warm enough the night before, it definitely was not as warm as his, and there was a spare mobile heater in his hall that he wanted to give her just in case. He wouldn’t be able to settle if he hadn’t offered it to her on such a cold night.

The last thing he’d expected when he’d told Ethan he’d like to move into one of the apartments had been the presence of a young single mother and child only a few feet away. The solitude that he’d sought wasn’t materialising, but for some reason he didn’t mind as much as he’d anticipated. As he crossed the landing with the heater, to his enormous surprise he even found himself hoping that he might get a glimpse of the smallest of the other apartment’s occupants.

When Phoebe opened the door to him she was smiling, and it hit him again how unusually beautiful she was, with her clear, pale skin and wide hazel gaze that was observing him questioningly.

‘Come in,’ she said, stepping back while he humped the heavy appliance into her hall. As he straightened up to face her, she asked, ‘What is that?’

‘It’s a heater,’ he said in the brisk manner he used when not sure of himself. ‘It is going to be a very cold night and I thought it might be welcome.’ ‘Where has it come from?’

‘My place. I don’t need it as my heating is excellent, and I noticed last night that yours is not so good. It just needs to be plugged into the electricity. So can I leave it with you?’

‘Yes,’ she said slowly, completely taken aback that her new boss should take the trouble to make sure that she and Marcus were warm enough on a bitter winter night. There was a lump in her throat and for an awful moment she felt she was going to weep in front of him, but she fought back the tears.

He wasn’t to know that his small act of kindness had broken through the armour of self-sufficiency that she wore to protect herself from any more of the hurts that life might have in store for her.

‘So where do you want it?’ he was asking, observing her curiously.

‘Here in the hall, I think,’ she told him, desperately scrabbling for some composure. ‘When I go to bed I’ll leave all the doors open so that the extra heat can circulate.’ Hoping that her surprise wasn’t making her appear short on gratitude, she asked, ‘Can I offer you a drink while you’re here Dr Balfour? A glass of wine, perhaps, or something hot?’

‘A glass of wine would be nice,’ he said smoothly, much preferring a beer but feeling that it wouldn’t be quite as suitable to the occasion. ‘But I can’t stay long. I have a meal in the oven.’

She nodded understandingly as she produced a bottle of white from the fridge, and as she was pouring it asked, ‘Have we had any news on Pamela Enderby?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I rang the farm just before I came up and George said that she’s in Theatre, having a huge haematoma drained. So far she’s coping with it, but it is a serious situation and sadly I feel she will be lucky to come through it.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.