The Village Nurse's Happy-Ever-After
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 wondered 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?’
Her expression had said she hadn’t known and her husband Keith said, ‘It will be an arrangement that Ethan will have agreed to before he left—probably a member of the staff.’
‘That’s correct,’ Harry had told him. ‘Her name is Phoebe Howard, she’s the district nurse.’
The retired doctor had shaken her head. ‘Although I take a great interest in the practice, I’m afraid I don’t know every member of staff, Harry. She must be someone new.’
‘Yes, I suppose that could be it,’ he’d agreed, and after saying his farewells had disappeared into the winter night.
And now he was back at the apartment and wondering if history would repeat itself, if the door opposite would be opened a crack to observe him. But it remained closed and there was silence all around, which was how he preferred it to be, wasn’t it?
It was two o’clock in the morning and there was silence no longer. He’d been awakened by a strange sound and was lying wide eyed against the pillows, trying to identify it. It wasn’t a cat yowling out on the tiles, he told himself, or someone who’d had too much to drink breaking into song as they went past the surgery building.
He sat up suddenly. It was the loud cry of a baby that was shattering the peace and he was out of bed in a flash, quickly throwing on a robe.
The door opposite was still closed when he went out onto the landing but he had no doubt about where the cry was coming from. Phoebe had a baby in there and from the noise issuing forth, it was not a happy one. The doctor in him simply couldn’t not check if everything was all right.
The crying stopped for a moment and he knocked on the door, but it still remained closed. In case the district nurse had a husband or partner with her who might be bristling at the invasion of their privacy, he called, ‘I’ve no wish to intrude but can I help?’
There was no response and he was in the process of knocking again when the door opened suddenly and he almost fell on top of Phoebe. The baby she was holding observed him with tear-drenched brown eyes as she said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry we’ve disturbed you, Dr Balfour. I’m afraid that Marcus is teething.’
He glanced around the room and still poised on the threshold asked, ‘Are you living alone up here with a young baby?’
Phoebe hesitated and as if on cue the infant in her arms began to cry again. She stepped back reluctantly to let him in and said, ‘Yes, I’m afraid there are just the two of us. If you want to help, could you possibly hold Marcus for a moment while I make him a bottle? It usually soothes him back to sleep. And, Dr Balfour, the reason I didn’t tell you I had a baby was exactly because of nights like this. I didn’t want us to disturb your privacy, but I should have known better.’
Harry had stepped inside and was observing her doubtfully as she held out the baby for him to take from her. She smiled and told him, ‘He won’t bite you. He’s only been protesting because he’s teething. Look, he’s smiling now.’ He looked down at the small warm body that he was now holding close to his. Sure enough, there was a little smile coming in his direction from the child with the same pale skin and wide brown gaze as his mother.
She was moving towards the kitchen to make the bottle, and Harry said in a low voice, ‘Do I take it that his father isn’t around?’
‘Yes,’ she said quietly, not looking at him. ‘We’re divorced.’
He nodded, and looking down at the child in his arms said wryly, ‘And this is the reason why you finish early? Why on earth didn’t you tell me that?’
‘Yes, Marcus is the reason,’ she said steadily. ‘I take him to a nursery in the village before I start at the surgery on weekdays and have to pick him up at four o’clock. I suppose one of the reasons for me not telling you was because I don’t want anyone seeing me as disadvantaged. I chose the kind of life I’m living and have no regrets. It was Ethan’s suggestion that I finish early and I was hardly going to refuse when it gave me some extra time with my son.’
‘So how long have you lived here?’
‘Only since New Year. My maternity leave was up at the end of December. I’d lived with my sister and brother-in-law before that,’ and with a tired smile. ‘So now you have the story of my life.’
‘Not entirely, I would imagine,’ he said dryly. He looked down at Marcus who was getting ready for another weeping bout. ‘If that bottle is ready, now might be the moment to produce it.’ With a feeling that he was out of his depth and had served his purpose, he said, ‘If you’re sure he’s going to settle, I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Yes, we’ll be fine,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I feel that I’ve been taking advantage of your good nature, Dr Balfour.’
‘I haven’t got a good nature to take advantage of,’ he informed her shortly and then pausing in the doorway, amazed himself by saying, ‘Before I go, why don’t I make you a warm drink? Coffee maybe?’
‘Er, yes, please, that would be lovely, and do make one for yourself,’ Phoebe said meekly, wanting to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to have someone do something for her, and of all people it was the unpredictable new head of the practice who was waiting on her in the middle of the night.
Marcus had been fed and changed, and was now sleeping peacefully in his cot. On the point of finally going back to his own apartment, Harry said, ‘Just one thing—if ever you need any help like tonight, feel free to call on me.
‘I would rather you did that than me having to lie there imagining you struggling on your own. And by the way, Nurse Howard, why is this place so much less attractive than mine?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she told him, ‘but it isn’t going to be like this for long! And I will only ever disturb you if it’s an emergency—when we move house we can’t choose our neighbours, can we? They come as part of the package.’
Harry wondered if that was in the form of an apology, or letting him know that she wasn’t all that keen on having him living so close.
But if she’d been expecting a reply, there was none forthcoming and as tiredness took hold of her, she wished him goodnight and bolted the door behind him.
When she went back to bed exhaustion was there, but not sleep. Her mind kept going over what had turned out to be the strangest of days. It has been full of highs and lows between Harry Balfour and herself, then had ended with him knocking on her door and offering to help with Marcus. She’d been so tired and frayed at the edges she’d welcomed him with open arms and thrust her little one at him.
Yet there was no way she was going to take him up on his offer by using him as a standby in times of stress. The odds were that he wouldn’t have taken the apartment across the landing if he’d known that his neighbours were going to be a single mother and her baby.
Despite his offer of help, he hadn’t exactly seemed very comfortable around Marcus. Lucy, the elderly practice nurse, had told her on the day he had been due to arrive that he hadn’t any family to bring with him, which maybe explained his reluctance to hold Marcus and his eagerness to be off once he had been satisfied that calm had been restored.
Yet he’d lingered long enough to make her the hot drink she’d been gasping for, and had made one for himself, as she’d suggested. But those had been things unconnected with her child…A last thought struck as her eyelids began to droop. Maybe his reaction on discovering there was a baby living only feet away wasn’t all that strange, as it clearly wouldn’t be every man’s idea of heaven.
Across the landing Harry’s thoughts were moving along different channels. Seated in a chair by the window, looking out bleakly at a starlit winter sky, he was remembering a time long ago when a baby precious to him and his parents had been lost, and how nothing had ever been the same afterwards.
Only small himself, he’d been left lonely and unloved while they’d tried to cope with their grief by spending all their time in their business, running stables in Bluebell Cove. Ever since, he’d been reluctant to take on the responsibility of bringing a child into a world where nothing was certain and loss could bring with it such pain and loneliness.
So family life wasn’t something he was familiar with due to his childhood. Marriage to a woman who had been in no hurry to start a family had also left his wariness of it unchanged.
Yet Phoebe across the landing had opted for it without the support of a husband or partner and seemed content, so which of them had the right idea?
Breakfast and getting Marcus to the nursery went smoothly the next morning, and Phoebe was at the surgery in good time, although with an uncomfortable feeling inside whenever she thought about her nocturnal meeting with Harry.
She shuddered to think what she must have looked like in a crumpled cotton nightdress with an old robe over it and her hair all over the place, yet it didn’t really matter. He’d been in her apartment for just one thing and there’d been nothing sensual about it. He’d come to assist in the hope of bringing back the peace that had prevailed before Marcus had begun his tantrum, and she’d do well to remember that!
Leo Fenchurch, the other doctor in the practice, had been out on an early call and appeared while she was making the usual big pot of tea for the staff before the day commenced. He brought a blast of cold air in with him and while warming his hands around a mug of the welcoming brew he said, ‘So, what do you think of the new guy, Phoebe?’
He was a fair-haired six-footer with a charm that appealed to most women, but not to her she thought. He was an excellent doctor but a bit lightweight for her to succumb to his charms.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said in answer to his question. ‘I feel that he isn’t going to be an easy person to get to know, that he is very much his own man. Yet I’m sure he will be good for the practice, even if he can be somewhat unpredictable on occasion.’ And of that I have on-the-spot experience, she thought.
‘But, Leo, we have to remember that Harry has lost his wife in tragic circumstances. I’m not sure how, but it was an accident of some kind, and for a marriage to end like that must have been horrendous.