A Nurse to Trust

  Two things struck Clare as she spoke.

  One, that his concern for his friend did him credit; two, that for the first time, the bleak expression hadn’t appeared in his eyes when speaking about the breakup of his marriage. He had mentioned it in a very matter-of-fact way. Suddenly that seemed very significant to her.

  “It seems that there’s hope for all of us, then,” she said quietly.

  “It looks like it,” he agreed. “One hell of a time to choose to fall in love, though.”

  “I don’t think we can choose these things,” Clare said.

  “No, I suppose we can’t…” He trailed off. His gaze seemed to fix on the far wall, as though this were suddenly the safest thing in the room to look at.

  Clare stood up quickly, gathering her almost empty plate. “Finished?” she asked, reaching out for Dan’s.

  For a second their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze. The second seemed to stretch to an impossible length. They each knew what the other was thinking—it was impossible not to share such thoughts after what had been said between them. The implications and possibilities were too big to be ignored. But perhaps they were also too big for them to handle at this moment. An unspoken understanding passed between them—not now, but maybe soon….

  Dear Reader,

  I was inspired to write A Nurse to Trust when several ideas came unexpectedly together one day while I was sitting at my desk. I had recently heard a news story about people, living in remote parts of the country, having problems getting access to proper public services.

  By association, this triggered the memory of holidays my family had taken years before in Somerset and Devon, and I recalled how isolated some of the smaller villages had seemed. Just then I saw a large vehicle—a removal van, I think—pass by outside.

  In a flash, it was all there. Why not write a story about a mobile surgery taking medicine and nursing care to some of the isolated villages dotted about the southwest moors? Apart from highlighting a genuine health care problem, setting the story in a mobile surgery would enable me to make the most, through the eyes of my hero and heroine, of the beautiful romantic countryside with all its historical associations.

  The setting and their shared triumphs and tribulations worked its magic on my hero and heroine and eventually they were able to sort out their problems and come together, in the best Harlequin Mills & Boon® tradition.

  Best wishes to you all,

  Margaret O’Neill

  A Nurse to Trust

  Margaret O’Neill

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘HELLO?’ Clare said breathlessly, having run in from the garden to answer the ringing telephone.

  Before she could add her number, which she still hadn’t properly memorised, a familiar voice said, ‘Clare? It’s Dan Davis. George and I are going for a dry run this evening to try out the mobile unit. Like to come?’

  ‘A dry run?’ she replied stupidly, deploring the slight breathlessness in her voice which she hoped Daniel wouldn’t detect as relief flooded through her. First contact had been made since their last awkward and abrupt parting without embarrassment. Fortunately, Daniel seemed his normal, pleasant self.

  ‘That’s right. Before we begin stocking up the surgery and pharmacy tomorrow, we thought it would be a good idea to run through the first day’s route. George has already done trial runs over the area we will be covering, but it makes sense for you and I to get the feel of it as well.’

  She recovered herself and said enthusiastically, ‘What a brilliant idea. I’d love to come. Shall I meet you at the health centre?’

  ‘Yep, at half past seven. We’ll stop for a pint and a pie somewhere en route. Think of it as a christening for our unique mobile surgery.’

  His deep, throaty voice was full of pride and excitement, thought Clare. But after all he had much to be proud about. He’d challenged authority and kept enthusiasm for his venture going, and in the end had won through. It was a great achievement. And now she was going to be part of it.

  A few hours later she walked down to the health centre through the churchyard. It was a glorious summer evening, all blue and gold.

  Daniel was waiting for her at the double gates leading into the yard behind the centre. In a chunky sort of way, he looked casually elegant, she thought. He was wearing a navy linen jacket and trousers and a snowy white shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

  He was smiling, but was he looking just a touch apprehensive, or was that her imagination? It was difficult to tell. His eyes weren’t giving anything away. They were as kind and warm as usual but his square jaw somehow looked squarer against the white of his shirt.

  The thing that struck Clare most forcibly was how fit and athletic he looked, how healthy and…wholesome was the only word she could come up with. He was freshly shaved and had used some woody pine soap or astringent that suited him to perfection.

  She found herself sniffing appreciatively. ‘Like it,’ she said. ‘Very…masculine and sporty.’ She indicated the lapel of his jacket. ‘And so is this. A touch nautical.’

  The ice was broken and he grinned.

  ‘And you look pretty good yourself,’ he replied, his eyes sweeping her up and down as he admired the white, calf-length, close-fitting jeans and loose navy blue silk top. ‘Not many women can look as you do in trousers. Most of them are too hippy, whereas you’re…’ He hesitated, as though suddenly worried that his compliments were becoming too fulsome and personal.

  Clare laughed quickly. ‘I’m lucky, I had a head start. I came with all the right equipment and bone structure, courtesy of my mother.’

  ‘Well, here’s another beauty,’ said Daniel, waving a hand at the large vehicle which seemed almost to fill the health centre car park. It gleamed in the evening sunlight; virginal white except for the neat blue lettering: MOBILE SURGERY—WESTERN AREA HEALTH SERVICES.

  George appeared from the other side of the vehicle, as ever clutching a cleaning cloth.

  He gave Clare a broad grin. ‘Almost under starter’s orders.’ He chuckled. ‘Looking forward to it, are you?’

  ‘Can’t wait to get on the road,’ replied Clare.

  The first village they called at was Hilverton, only seven miles from the health centre. ‘But it might be a million miles away if you haven’t a car and can’t get a lift,’ said Daniel. ‘There’s no bus service.’

  George drove into a yard at the back of the general stores and post office. ‘The shop was going to be axed,’ he volunteered, ‘but the rent they’re going to get from the health authority for parking space is going to help them keep going.’

  ‘The ripple effect, almost like bartering,’ said Clare. ‘I like it.’ She turned to Daniel with a smile. ‘I think this brilliant idea of yours is going to catch on. There must be hundreds of places up and down the country with the same problems that we have here.’

  ‘Oh, without a doubt, there are, but it takes bold thinking for money-conscious health authorities to consider it. Most of them start off with the idea that it won’t work or will be uneconomic. We had to do a hell of a lot of research before putting the idea to the people who hold the purse strings. That’s why we’ve got to make it work.’

  There were similar locations to Hilverton in the next two villages, Craggydon and Chiminster. At Craggydon they had a parking pla
ce beside the village pub, while at Chiminster it was a space in the shadow of the ancient church.

  The fourth village on their list, St Mary Otterburn, was a much larger village than the others, and until a couple of years ago had had a bus service. But this had been suddenly withdrawn as being uneconomic.

  ‘In a way,’ explained Daniel, ‘it was St Mary losing its bus service that was the deciding factor in creating a mobile surgery. An old lady died due to hypothermia and pneumonia. According to her neighbour, another elderly person, she hadn’t liked to bother the doctor to come and see her, but couldn’t get in to the surgery. The local press had a field day with the whole thing, as you can imagine. The additional irony was that the elderly woman had been a nurse all her life, and there were even a few people around who remembered her as a district nurse going around on her bike.’

  Clare’s finely arched eyebrows rose almost to touch her fringe. ‘My word, talk about rubbing salt into the wound. I bet that produced a few red faces.’

  ‘Yep, and put a bit of backbone into some of the doubters. I like to think that Mary Miller—that was the old nurse’s name—would be comforted by the knowledge that she hadn’t died in vain.’ His wide, firm mouth twitched into a smile. ‘I wanted to name the mobile after her. I thought that it would have been a fitting memorial to the old lady who had given so much to the community. But the powers that be wouldn’t wear it.’

  Clare felt her eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was a touching story and clearly Daniel had been touched by it, too. She punched him lightly on his arm, and felt his biceps tighten. Her knuckles tingled where they’d touched his solid muscles.

  ‘Beneath this tough, masculine exterior, you’re an old softie, aren’t you?’ she said, her voice husky.

  She watched, fascinated, as his neck and face reddened.

  ‘Come on,’ he said gruffly, taking a step away from her. ‘There’s a super pub along the river, we’ll eat there. See you later, George.’

  ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’ Clare asked George.

  George shook his head. ‘Nope. My brother lives here in St Mary. He’s coming over to keep me company, probably armed with fish and chips, so you’ve plenty of time to eat and sink a pint.’

  ‘This is almost like home.’ Clare sighed happily as she perched herself on a sloping bench beside a sloping table in the pub garden which overlooked the river. ‘All pub gardens seem to have slopy furniture.’ She turned her face to meet the westering but still warm sun.

  Daniel tried not to stare at the golden tanned column of her throat and the small pulse beating below her chin.

  ‘I can’t think how I survived in London for all those years,’ Clare added.

  Daniel shifted his eyes from her throat and grinned. ‘I can see you’re in a nostalgic mood, but before we set off on a journey of remembrance, I’ll fetch our drinks and bring the menu for you to choose something.’

  ‘You said we were going to have pie and chips. I’d be happy with that as long as I can have pickled onions and tomato sauce with it. Drinks-wise, I’ll have a large gin and lime and soda, please, with lots of ice.’ She smiled at him, her blue eyes very bright and happy.

  ‘I’ve never known a woman choose so quickly,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Perhaps you haven’t been going out with the right women,’ said Clare, laughing.

  ‘You could be right about that,’ he replied dryly.

  Dan gave himself a talking-to as he threaded his way between tables and tumbling kids. Don’t get carried away, Davis. OK, she seems different to many other women. She hasn’t thrown herself at you, has a nice sense of humour and is definitely keen on her work. So let’s leave it at that and build up a good working relationship.

  When he got back with their drinks, he found Clare holding a gobbledygook conversation with a small girl of perhaps two years old. She was a very pretty child, with bobbing fair curls and huge dark blue eyes. She was holding out her arm and Clare was looking at it closely.

  ‘Itch,’ said the small child, scratching ferociously at her arm.

  Gently Clare pulled the toddler’s hand away. ‘Don’t do that, love,’ she said, ‘you’ll make it sore.’

  As Daniel put their drinks on the table, a young woman reached the table and snatched up the small girl.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped breathlessly. ‘She will keep wandering off. I hope she hasn’t been pestering you.’

  Both Clare and Daniel smiled reassuringly. ‘Not at all,’ replied Clare. ‘She’s a lovely little girl. She was showing me her itchy arm. That’s a nasty rash that she’s got.’

  The young woman nodded her head. ‘I know, it came on yesterday, and seems to have got worse today. The chemist suggested calamine lotion, and it does seem to help for a little while, but it hasn’t cleared it up.’

  ‘Are you holidaying down here?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Yes, Polly’s had this awful flu bug that’s been going around, and my doctor at home thought that some fresh country air might help her to recoup. And she does seem much brighter and has been sleeping better. But now this rash…’

  Polly, homing in on the conversation, stuck her arm out for Daniel to look at. ‘Itch,’ she said, beaming at him.

  Daniel took her small arm and carefully inspected both the outer and inner aspects.

  Again Polly’s mother apologised and smiled at Daniel. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She made to ease the little girl’s arm out of Daniel’s hand. ‘This gentleman doesn’t want to look at your arm, darling.’

  ‘Oh, but I do,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m a doctor, and this lady can vouch for me because she’s a nurse.’ He nodded toward Clare, who nodded in confirmation, although she looked rather surprised.

  Daniel turned his attention back to Polly’s arm. ‘It looks like an allergy, don’t you think?’ He motioned to Clare to look more closely.

  ‘It does,’ she agreed. ‘Has Polly a rash anywhere else, Mrs…?’ she asked the child’s mother, deliberately letting her voice trail off.

  ‘I’m Mrs Formby—Janice. No, she hasn’t got a rash anywhere else, that’s what’s so strange. Why just this arm?’

  ‘Is Polly right-handed?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did you go anywhere different yesterday where she might have played with something involving her right arm rather than her left?’

  Janice frowned and started to shake her head, then stopped in mid-shake. ‘Of course. The children’s corner at the farm. She was helping to feed the goats, scooping some nutty lumps out of a bin. She was holding her favourite doll in her left hand so she couldn’t use that. But she didn’t touch the goats, she was a bit scared of them.’

  ‘I don’t think the goats are the culprits,’ said Daniel. ‘I think there was something in the feed that she’s allergic to.’

  ‘That was a good bit of detecting, Morse,’ teased Clare a while later.

  A grateful Mrs Formby, on Daniel’s advice, had just driven off, taking Polly, her arm wrapped in paper napkins soaked in Clare’s soda water, with the cream Daniel had prescribed.

  Daniel grinned self-consciously at the admiration in her voice. ‘Thanks. In a way, although it was so puzzling just affecting the one arm, it also made it easier to diagnose an allergy, and I had the additional benefit of having seen a similar allergy recently. That, too, had been caused by animal feed on a lad who lived on a farm. Anyway, that’s what medicine’s all about, isn’t it? Detective work.’

  George drove them home over the moors as the sun was setting, making some early gorse bushes blaze like gold.

  Perched between George and Daniel, riding high above the undulating moors, Clare said, ‘It’s so beautiful. I’m so very glad that, thanks to Aunt Marjory, I’ve ended up in this neck of the woods.’

  Daniel knew that he should make some innocuous reply but, looking at her radiant face and brilliant blue eyes, found himself murmuring, ‘I’m very glad, too, Clare. I’m sure we’re going to make a great team, you and I.�
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  ‘And George,’ she supplemented quickly.

  ‘And George,’ he agreed, glancing at their driver with a smile.

  Later Clare dawdled over getting undressed and taking a bath. It had been a lovely evening, she thought dreamily, swishing the water into a thousand bubbles. What a nice man Daniel was. Even the episode with Polly and Mrs Formby had been a lesson in what it meant to be a good doctor. He hadn’t needed to declare himself a doctor and offer advice, but he had.

  He’d shrugged when she’d said as much. ‘Like policemen, we’re always on duty,’ he’d said, ‘and you weren’t averse to playing nurse.’

  ‘That’s true,’ she’d replied. ‘Once a nurse, always a nurse. I never did go along with the idea that a trained medic chancing on some accident shouldn’t get involved because he or she might be sued for damages if something went wrong.’

  The water began to cool and she got out and towelled herself dry.

  She heated some milk and took her mug into the garden which was bathed in moonlight. She sat on the low parapet round the little pond and admired the rippling reflections of the moon and Alice.

  Alice was a bronze statue, about two feet high, of a small girl peering into the pool. It had come with the cottage. Clare had no idea who had made it or even how old it was, but there was a charming, timeless beauty about the piece.

  Clare reached out and stroked the figurine.

  ‘You know, Alice,’ she said, ‘I think everything’s going to work out all right for me here.’ She just hoped that Dan was as nice as he seemed…

  CHAPTER TWO

  CLARE hadn’t been so sure of herself a few short but very busy weeks before when she’d phoned her parents to give them the news. But she hadn’t let her doubts sound in her voice.

  ‘Mum, Dad—I’ve got the job with the mobile surgery unit,’ she’d said excitedly. ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’

  Her mother had given a coo of pleasure. ‘Oh, I’m so glad that you’re moving out of London, darling. You’ve always been a country girl at heart. Having you just across the water in Somerset will make you seem so much closer to home. When you inherited Aunt Marjory’s house we were afraid that you might sell it or let it and stay in London.’