Falling for Her Impossible Boss

Her patient wasn’t talking either. As the glances added up, Bella could see the sadness and her heart went out to the old lady. A real lady, no less.

‘Why do you keep looking at me like that?’

Bella jumped. ‘Sorry, was I being rude? It’s just that I love your hair. If you could bottle a colour like that, you could make a fortune.’

‘It’s just grey.’

‘Oh, no …’ Bella shook her head emphatically. ‘It’s pure silver. And it sparkles. I had a pair of Lycra dance tights that were just that colour. I loved them, too.’

But Lady Dorothy had lapsed back into silence. She was just sitting there, against her pillows, staring into space. Bella moved around the room, tidying things here and there. Heavens, it was hardly going to impress Sally if she didn’t get anything more than a disparaging comment about hair colour as a response when she was supposed to be cheering this patient up.

The huge vase of fresh flowers probably needed some water but when Bella walked towards them, she caught her foot on a chair leg and sent something flying.

Thank goodness Mr Dawson wasn’t around to witness her clumsiness. She could almost hear his voice saying something scathing like how typical of her that was.

With an exasperated huff, Bella reached down to scoop up the bright pink object. Why on earth should she even care what he thought of her anyway? She wasn’t going to go back to being a theatre nurse. He’d put her off for life.

The huff became a gasp as she realised what she was holding.

‘Oh, my God!’ She held up the thick, fleecy track pants with the wide elasticised waistband and viewed the item of clothing with horror. And then she felt her cheeks getting hot and whirled around to face the woman in the bed. ‘I do apologise, Lady Dorothy,’ she said. ‘These must be yours.’

The look she got was pure ice. ‘They most certainly are not mine.’

‘Oh … thank God for that.’

Lady Dorothy was still glaring at her. Bella tried a tentative smile.

‘I shouldn’t say that because it’s no joke that my grandfather murdered my grandmother, but you know what?’

Lady Dorothy continued to stare but her eyebrows were moving slowly. In an upward direction. ‘What?’ The query was understandably wary.

Bella lowered her voice to a confidential tone. ‘If she’d been wearing pink track pants like this it could well have been a motive.’ Her lips twitched. ‘If I’d been on the jury and these were exhibit A then I’d certainly consider them to be an exonerating factor.’

Finally, there was a response from the elderly lady. A lip twitch that mirrored Bella’s. She unceremoniously rolled up the offending pants and put them back on the chair.

‘So, if they’re not yours, what are they doing in here? Shall I get rid of them for you?’

‘Best not, dear.’

‘How come?’

Lady Dorothy’s sigh was weary. ‘The occupational therapist brought them. I’m supposed to wear them because I’ll be able to put them on by myself.’

‘What? Is she trying to drive you to drink or something? What’s wrong with the kind of pants you usually wear? Oh …’ Bella grimaced. ‘Sorry, I’m putting my foot in it again. You probably don’t wear trousers at all. I’d imagine you wearing beautiful skirts and jackets or elegant dresses.’

‘I do wear trousers. I was wearing my favourite pair when I came in here. They’re hanging in the wardrobe.’

Bella opened the small closet. A pair of crisply pressed, pale grey linen pants could be seen. She lifted out the hanger and eyed the garment. ‘You know, I’m no expert but the only problem I can see with these is the zip and buttons and that could be easily fixed with an invisible strip of Velcro.’

Lady Dorothy was watching her closely now. ‘What about pulling them up?’

‘You could use one of those stick gripper things. Has the occupational therapist shown you all the aids you can get now?’

‘She showed me a lot of things.’ Lady Dorothy’s tone suggested she hadn’t been impressed.

‘Anyway,’ Bella added cautiously, ‘you’ll probably get a lot of movement back when the inflammation goes down. As long as you’re not as silly as my nanna was, that is.’

Lady Dorothy blinked. ‘What’s your nanna got to do with this? I thought you said she got murdered.’

‘That was Grandma. On my dad’s side and I never knew her. She was the skeleton in my family closet. Nanna was Mum’s mother and she lived with us for a while when she couldn’t manage any more. I loved her to bits.’

‘You said she was silly.’

Bella nodded, happy to finally have the old lady’s full attention. She wasn’t even looking sad any more. ‘She had a high horse. We used to tease her about getting on it so often.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘She was very critical of people she didn’t like—especially doctors. She didn’t believe in drugs of any kind. When she was diagnosed with her rheumatoid arthritis her GP told her to get off her high horse for once and do as she was told because if she didn’t take the painkillers and anti-inflammatories and do her exercises, she’d end up totally crippled by the disease.’

‘And did she?’

‘No. She went home and flushed all the pills down the loo and, of course, she couldn’t keep moving because her joints were all too swollen and sore and she did end up crippled and had to come and live with us.’ Bella sighed. ‘I wish she’d been put somewhere like here when she got sick. She would have loved my line-dancing classes. That would have got her moving.’

There was a sparkle in Lady Dorothy’s eyes now. A look of real interest. Determination, even? ‘What on earth is line dancing?’

Bella’s grin was mischievous. ‘I’ll come and get you tomorrow and you can find out.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘I wouldn’t be dressed for it.’

It was Bella’s turn to raise her eyebrows significantly. ‘But you’ve got your clothes right there in the wardrobe. I’m not asking you to wear shocking pink trackie daks. In fact,’ she put on a stern face. ‘I’m quite sure they not allowed for line dancing.’

‘But …’

Bella could see a fear she could understand in this beautiful woman’s face. The fear of loss of dignity. Of losing herself in her disease. Without thinking, she went and perched her hip on the side of the bed and took one of Lady Dorothy’s hands in her own.

‘I do understand,’ she said softly. ‘I had to help my nanna with things that were just plain embarrassing for both of us until we got used to it but I learned something. Something important.’

She could see the effort it took Lady Dorothy to swallow and then speak. Her voice was a whisper. ‘What was that?’

‘That the physical stuff like being able to get dressed or even go to the loo by yourself—it’s all on the outside. If you can get past the inconvenience of needing help it doesn’t change a thing that really matters—the person you are on the inside.’

There was a long moment of silence. Bella shut her eyes for a moment to gather her courage.

‘We could have a go with your clothes now, if you like. That way we could find out what needs a bit of adjustment in the way of fastenings and things.’

More silence. It was obvious that some time was needed. ‘Have a think about it, anyway,’ Bella suggested. ‘In the meantime, I could tell you about something really funny that my kitten did this morning. Do you like cats?’

‘I used to.’ The tone was wistful. ‘I haven’t had a pet for many years.’

Bella smiled. ‘Well … I live with my aunt Kate who’s very particular about stuff and Bib—that’s the kitten—decided she wanted to see what was on top of the window and the quickest way up was to use the net curtains, only her claws got stuck and she got scared and started shouting.’ Bella was using her hands as she began her story but Lady Dorothy wasn’t watching. Her gaze kept straying to the wardrobe door that Bella had left open accidentally. The linen pants were in clear view.

She bit back a hopeful smile and went on with her story.

Oliver took a very roundabout route to make his way to the geriatric ward at seven that evening. It hadn’t been possible to locate a plain brown paper bag, so the bag of hamburgers and fries he carried was emblazoned with the red and yellow logo of the world-famous fast-food chain.

A bag he almost dropped when he entered his mother’s room. He had expected to find her in her bed. Not sitting in the armchair by the window—wearing her day clothes.

It was nothing short of a miracle.

‘You got dressed!’

‘Yes … and I feel so much more like myself.’ Lady Dorothy smiled at him.

‘How on earth …?’ The query trailed into silence. He’d been going to ask how she’d managed by herself but that would only be rubbing in the fact that she couldn’t. But she hadn’t been allowing anybody to help so how …?

‘I had some help.’ His mother nodded. ‘I met the most astonishing girl this afternoon. Bella. Simply delightful.’ She gave her son a thoughtful gaze. ‘Very pretty, too.’

‘Mother!’ Oliver shook his head but he was smiling. How could he not smile? This was a major step forward. ‘You know my rule about dating nurses. Or doctors. Or anyone else from work. It’s a no-go area. Always has been, always will be.’

It wasn’t as if he didn’t meet countless eligible women through the lavish fundraising occasions he was obliged to attend with his mother and it was rare to find any single woman who wasn’t eager to date the Dawson heir. Sex had never been a problem. Finding a woman suitable to produce the grandchild his mother yearned for was quite a different matter, however. It was a search that, quite frankly, Oliver was getting seriously bored by. Or maybe he was resisting because it wasn’t just that his mother was yearning for the next generation but that everybody expected it to happen.

‘Hmmph.’ Lady Dorothy sighed. ‘Anyway, this Bella used to look after her grandmother who had terrible arthritis so she knows all about it. She helped me and … and she managed to do it without making me feel like some kind of oversized infant.’

Oliver made a mental note to find the nurse called Bella and show his appreciation.

‘Oh …’ His mother bit her lip. ‘I meant her nanna, not her grandmother. She got murdered.’

‘Good grief.’ Oliver was setting out the food he’d brought on the end of the bed.

‘By her grandfather.’

Oliver’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Comes from a good family, then?’

‘Don’t be a snob, Oliver. She can’t help her family any more than any of us can. And she made me laugh.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Oliver said, and meant it. He screwed up the big paper bag and went to put it in the rubbish bin. There was something large and bright pink filling the metal bucket. He peered closer and then lifted the item out to see what it was.

His mother giggled.

Bella sneaked through the hospital corridors very carefully on her way to the geriatric ward at seven-thirty p.m., a box in her arms.

‘Shh …’ she said occasionally. ‘If we get caught, we’re going to be in big trouble, Bib.’

Amazingly, she made it to the ward without meeting anybody. The planned treat of letting Lady Dorothy play with a kitten for a few minutes could go ahead. It didn’t matter how frozen and sore her hands were right now. She would still be able to feel the softness of this fluffy kitten’s fur and have the pleasure of hearing the tiny animal purr.

She tapped softly at the closed door and then let herself in without waiting for a response.

‘Surprise,’ she whispered gleefully.

Except the surprise was hers. Perched on the end of Lady Dorothy’s bed, stuffing a hamburger into his mouth, was Oliver Dawson.

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