District Nurse on Call

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Well, don’t.’ Carrie put her hand to her throbbing temple as Rob’s face swam briefly out of focus before her eyes. When she looked back at him, he was staring at her, frowning with concern.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m a bit dizzy, that’s all,’ she said. ‘It must be the heat …’

  ‘Do you want me to fetch t’nurse?’

  ‘No, I don’t want any fuss. I’ll be fine if I just sit here for a minute.’

  She buried her face in her hands, resting her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in that position, but the next thing she knew, Rob was holding out a cup towards her.

  ‘Drink this,’ he said gently. ‘It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Just water.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘I in’t trying to get you tipsy, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

  Carrie felt herself blushing as she gulped down the water. It felt cool as it slid down her parched throat.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, handing him back the empty cup. ‘That was very kind of you.’

  ‘I’ve told you, I have got a heart.’ He tilted his head. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

  ‘Much better, thank you.’ The water had worked wonders, clearing her head. But it did nothing for her heart, which was fluttering against her ribs like a caged bird.

  She had been dreading seeing Rob again after that day he’d brought her home from Leeds. Her reaction to him had shaken her. She’d thought that after two years she would be immune to his charms, but he had only had to take her in his arms and suddenly she felt herself weakening again.

  She tried to tell herself it was because she was too vulnerable. Things weren’t going well between her and James, and Rob had come along and made her smile, and reminded her of the old days, when she was a girl and everything had been so simple. That was the only reason she had reacted to him the way she had.

  But then, she reminded herself, being vulnerable around Rob Chadwick was never a good idea.

  ‘I saw Eliza, trailing after May Edcott,’ Rob said, breaking into her reverie. ‘She didn’t look too happy, I must say.’

  Carrie smiled. ‘She reckons it should have been her crowned queen, not May.’

  ‘Happen she’s right. She’s a good-looking girl, your Eliza. Takes after her sister.’

  Rob paused then, and Carrie knew with a sinking dread what he was going to say when he finally spoke.

  ‘Do you remember when you were crowned Gala Queen?’ he asked in a soft, insinuating voice.

  She said nothing, silenced by the old familiar rush of shame and fear.

  ‘It was the year I came back to Bowden to visit,’ Rob reminded her. ‘I arrived back on gala day and there you were, wearing that pink dress with those flowers in your hair. I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. You remember that day, don’t you, Carrie?’

  She heard the challenge in his voice. Of course she remembered. She had tried to blank it from her memory but it was there, like a scar that would never heal.

  ‘I don’t like to think about it,’ she murmured.

  ‘Why not?’

  She lifted her gaze to face him. Did he really have to ask that question? ‘Because it was a mistake. It should never have happened.’

  ‘So why did it happen?’ Rob said softly.

  Why indeed? That was a question she had asked herself endlessly, ever since. She had been weak and foolish that day. When he had taken her in his arms and kissed her, nothing else had mattered. Least of all that she was about to marry James Shepherd.

  ‘I told you, I don’t like to think about it,’ she said. ‘It’s all in the past now.’

  ‘Is it?’ He shifted around to face her, lowering his voice so she could barely hear him. ‘I thought it was in the past too. But the last time we saw each other …’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘I felt something, Carrie. Something between us. And you felt it too. Don’t try to deny it, you know what I mean.’ He was so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath fanning her face. ‘You still love me, don’t you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Look me in the eyes and tell me that.’

  Over his shoulder, Carrie spotted her sister Gertie at the entrance to the tent, holding a grizzling Henry in her arms.

  Relieved, Carrie jumped to her feet, waving to her.

  ‘There you are!’ Gertie made her way over to them. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. He’s been howling for ten minutes and I can’t quieten him.’

  ‘He’s probably tired, poor lamb. Give him to me.’

  ‘With pleasure.’ Gertie dumped the baby into Carrie’s arms. Henry immediately stopped crying and rested his head on her shoulder. ‘I want to go and meet my friends now, anyway.’

  ‘He’s a bonny lad.’ Rob stood at Carrie’s shoulder. He put out a finger and Henry grasped it. ‘Got a strong grip on him, too. How old is he?’

  Carrie hesitated. ‘He’s just turned a year.’

  Gertie laughed. ‘Surely you in’t forgotten your own son’s birthday, Carrie Shepherd? He’s sixteen months old,’ she told Rob. ‘His birthday was back in April.’ She shook her head reproachfully at her sister.

  ‘April?’ Rob said.

  ‘I’d best get him home,’ Carrie muttered. ‘It’s too hot for him, and he needs a nap.’

  ‘I’ll walk with you,’ Rob offered, but Carrie shook her head.

  ‘I’d rather be on my own,’ she said. The truth was, she couldn’t put enough distance between herself and Rob Chadwick.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Carrie had expected James to be at the pit as usual, so she was surprised to hear voices coming from the parlour when she came home.

  Her heart sank as she heard Eleanor Haverstock’s nervous tittering laughter, followed by Sir Edward’s gruff tones. Oh, Lord, why did they have to be here now?

  She went upstairs to put Henry down for his nap, and to give herself time to gather her thoughts and tidy herself up. She gazed in despair at her reflection in the mirror, her hair limp with perspiration, her face sunburned. She applied powder, but her cheeks still glowed red.

  Finally, she could put it off no longer. She walked into the parlour to find Sir Edward and Eleanor Haverstock having tea with James.

  She caught her husband’s quick, guarded look at her. Please don’t let me down, he pleaded silently.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Carrie said, smiling around at everyone. ‘I didn’t know we were expecting company.’

  ‘It’s entirely my fault,’ Miss Eleanor said cheerfully. ‘We were passing the village and I begged Father to let us drop in.’

  ‘Complete waste of time,’ Sir Edward grumbled.

  ‘How was the gala?’ Eleanor asked, ignoring him. ‘Did you have a pleasant time, Mrs Shepherd?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’ve had a lovely day.’

  Carrie glanced at James. He was staring down at his hands, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘You’ve caught the sun, at any rate. You look as flushed as a farm girl.’

  Carrie put her hand to her cheek. As she had feared, the face powder had fooled no one. Miss Eleanor was far too well bred to allow the sun to touch her porcelain complexion.

  ‘It was a hot day,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘A gala, indeed!’ Sir Edward retorted. ‘I don’t understand it. These men complain their families are starving, yet they soon find the money to squander on beer and sideshows. And on my land, too! It’s an absolute disgrace. I should have ordered the police to move them all on.’

  I’d like to see you try. Carrie smiled to herself at the thought of Sergeant Cray squaring up to five hundred angry pitmen.

  ‘Well, I’m jolly glad you didn’t,’ Eleanor said. ‘Really, Father, it’s a local tradition. And I must admit, it always looks rather fun, although I’ve never been myself.’

  ‘I should think not!’ Sir Edward dismissed. ‘It’s no place for a woman of br
eeding.’

  ‘Father!’ Eleanor sent Carrie a quick, embarrassed look.

  ‘I must say, Shepherd, I’m surprised at you for allowing your wife to go to this – gathering,’ Sir Edward said, turning to James.

  He frowned. ‘I’m not quite sure I understand, Sir Edward.’

  ‘Well, it’s hardly seemly for the pit manager’s wife to be seen – cavorting – with the lower classes, is it? Especially with the way things are now. You really should keep better control of your wife.’

  ‘Now just a minute—’ Carrie opened her mouth to defend herself, but James got there first.

  ‘My wife is not a chattel for me to control,’ he said quietly. ‘She makes up her own mind where she goes and what she does.’

  Carrie stared at him. His words were softly spoken, but he could not have shocked her more if he had bellowed them at the top of his voice.

  Sir Edward glared at him. ‘Then more fool you,’ he muttered.

  James’ expression didn’t flicker. ‘You think I’m a fool, Sir Edward?’

  Eleanor jumped in quickly to smooth things over, as usual. ‘I’m sure my father didn’t mean to imply that.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Eleanor, I don’t need you to explain what I mean!’ Sir Edward rounded on his daughter angrily. ‘You want to know the truth?’ he said to James. ‘Yes, I do think you’re a fool. I thought you were a fool to marry the girl in the first place, but you went off and did it anyway.’ He cast a bitter glance at Carrie. ‘But allowing her to go off to this gala – it makes you look weak.’

  Carrie looked at James. He was staring back at Sir Edward, his expression unreadable.

  She thought guiltily of the food parcels she had stolen from the larder, of all the donations she had made in secret. She’d even brought the Tollers to the house unannounced and expected James to take them in. She hadn’t cared for the Haverstocks’ opinion at the time, and she still didn’t. But now she suddenly saw her actions through her husband’s eyes, and she realised how selfish she had been. The last thing she wanted to do was make more trouble for James.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Carrie spoke up. ‘It was only a day out. I’ve been going to the galas since I was a bairn. I didn’t realise it would cause so much trouble.’

  ‘Which only goes to show how stupid you are, doesn’t it?’ Sir Edward snapped.

  Something changed in James’ manner. He rose slowly to his feet, towering over them.

  ‘That’s enough,’ he said. ‘It’s bad enough that you come here and insult me. But when you insult my wife …’ He took a deep breath, and Carrie could see him fighting to keep his temper. ‘I would like you to leave,’ he said.

  Eleanor gave a little squeak of dismay. Sir Edward stared at him. ‘You’re throwing me out?’

  ‘No, Sir Edward, I am asking you to leave. But I will throw you out if I must?’

  Sir Edward’s eyes turned to ice, and for a terrible moment Carrie thought that it might come to that. But then he seized his walking stick and got to his feet. ‘Come, Eleanor, we won’t stay where we’re not wanted.’

  ‘But, Father …’

  ‘I said, come! Or are you going to defy me too?’

  Eleanor looked into her half-finished cup of tea, then quickly set it down and stood up.

  Sir Edward looked James up and down with an expression of contempt on his fox-like face. ‘I’d expected more loyalty from you,’ he growled.

  James lifted his chin. ‘You pay for my loyalty while I’m at the pit,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t give you the right to come to my home and issue orders and insults.’

  ‘Your home? May I remind you, this house and everything else in this village belongs to me.’

  ‘In that case, perhaps you would like me to leave?’

  Carrie held her breath. For a long moment the two men stared at each other, toe to toe. Then Sir Edward sneered.

  ‘I thought you were your father’s son, but you’re nothing like Henry Shepherd and you never will be.’ He nodded towards Carrie. ‘You’re no judge of character, either. You did yourself no favours when you married that minx. I told you you’d live to regret it, didn’t I? It looks as if she’s already bringing you down. And when she’s taken everything, she’ll go back to her own and forget about you.’

  He stormed out, leaving Eleanor fluttering in his wake.

  ‘He doesn’t mean it,’ she whispered to James. ‘He’s just upset, that’s all.’

  ‘He’s not the only one,’ James said grimly.

  ‘Just give him a chance to calm down,’ Eleanor went on. ‘You know how he can be …’

  ‘Eleanor!’

  ‘I’m coming, Father.’ She shot another quick, helpless glance at Carrie, and then was gone.

  Sir Edward’s departure seemed to have sucked all the air from the room, leaving Carrie breathless. She stared at the door long after they had heard the Haverstocks’ car pulling away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I truly didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.’

  James stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s that monster who should be saying sorry.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘How dare he come in here and insult you!’

  ‘I’ve never heard you speak to him like that before.’

  ‘Perhaps I should have done it a long time ago.’

  Carrie stared at him. Once again, she barely recognised the man before her. ‘But you don’t want to lose your job,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I’d rather lose my job than lose you.’ He turned to face her, his expression softening. ‘Oh, God, Carrie, I’ve been so wretched. I know I’ve changed since this lockout started, and I don’t blame you for hating me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.’

  ‘I’ve hated myself.’ The strength seemed to go from his body and he sank down on to a chair, his face buried in his hands. ‘Some of the things I’ve done – I told myself I was doing them for the right reasons, to keep the pit going. But I was really just trying to prove I was as tough as my father.’ He looked up and gave her a bitter smile. ‘I was trying to earn Sir Edward’s respect. And in doing so I lost yours.’

  ‘Oh, James!’ Carrie took his hands in hers. ‘It wasn’t all your fault. You were just trying to do your job, to provide for your family the same as everyone else does. Sir Edward’s right, I should have been more loyal to you.’

  ‘Don’t you dare say that! That old goat is rarely right about anything.’ James stood up, gathering her into his arms. ‘Perhaps we’ve both made mistakes,’ he conceded. ‘I hope we can put them behind us now.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ She lifted her face to his for a long, lingering kiss. As his mouth found hers, Carrie felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. All her doubts, and any thoughts of Rob Chadwick, vanished from her mind.

  ‘God, I’ve missed you so much,’ James whispered, his face pressed to her neck. ‘Can I come back to our bedroom? I hated sleeping in my study.’

  ‘The sooner the better.’ Carrie smiled at him. ‘In fact …’ She glanced towards the door. ‘Why don’t we go up there now?’

  James gazed down at her. ‘You know, perhaps Sir Edward was right about something,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, yes? What’s that?’

  He smiled slowly. ‘You are a minx,’ he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Eric Wardle was getting worse.

  Abscesses had formed in the cavities of his spine where TB had eaten away the bone. Left untreated, they had slowly begun to spread their poison through his body. His liver, his intestines and all the other organs of his body were all slowly surrendering to its effects.

  And now it was starting to affect his kidneys. Agnes almost didn’t have to check the urine sample she had taken. She knew it would surely contain albumin even before she saw the white ring forming in the test tube.

  She tried not to allow her feelings to show
as she carefully made her notes. But there was no fooling her patient.

  ‘It in’t good, is it, Nurse?’ Eric Wardle asked her.

  Agnes turned to him, her usual bright smile in place, ready to say something suitably soothing. But the words died in her throat when she saw his face.

  ‘It’s all right, Nurse, you don’t have to put it on with me. I know I in’t got much time left. How long, d’you reckon? Weeks or months? Or days?’

  Agnes took a deep breath. Poorly as he was, Eric Wardle looked like the kind of man to sniff out a lie.

  ‘Weeks, Mr Wardle. I’m so sorry.’

  He waved her words aside. ‘Nay, Nurse, don’t you take on. I always knew this blasted TB would get me in the end. I count myself lucky I’ve lasted as long as I have. There was a time, just after I came back from t’war …’ He paused, drawing in a deep breath. ‘Anyway, I reckon I’m ready to meet my maker.’ He tapped the Bible at his bedside. ‘But I’d be obliged if you’d keep it from the rest of the family. I know how my Kath worries, and I don’t want to put any more on her shoulders than she needs to bear. It’ll be our little secret, eh?’ He winked at Agnes.

  ‘As you wish, Mr Wardle.’ She managed a smile, wondering if she could ever be that courageous, knowing the end was coming.

  But she couldn’t think about that. She owed it to her patient to make him as comfortable as possible for as long as she could.

  She bathed him carefully, and powdered under the edges and straps of his brace, checking for any signs of plaster sores. He was painfully thin, his bones jutting under papery, yellowing skin.

  ‘You’re not eating, Mr Wardle?’ she asked him.

  He shook his head. ‘It upsets my stomach, Nurse. Besides, I don’t fancy food much.’

  ‘All the same, you should try to have something to keep your strength up.’

  ‘What do I need my strength for, if I can’t even get out of this bed?’ A look of despair crossed his face, a moment before his determined smile was back in place. ‘I’m sorry, Nurse, you don’t want to listen to me moaning, do you?’

  ‘You moan as much as you like, Mr Wardle. I don’t mind.’

  ‘Nay, but I do. I’m not one for complaining usually. But I do miss going up to my allotment.’ He turned his gaze towards the window. ‘Them carrots and parsnips will need watering, else they’ll dry out with all this sun.’