The Village Nurse's Happy-Ever-After. Abigail Gordon
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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