‘And my rough red hands,’ Laurel reminded her with dry humour. ‘I wear the gloves all the time so that I won’t be mistaken for a domestic drudge.’
‘Get away with you,’ was the response. ‘People around here are very kind and if they knew how you’d got the scarring they would acclaim your courage and dedication to the job. But, as I’ve just said, that is entirely your affair, and as to how we are going to spend your first day away from London, what is it to be, the town or the village?’
‘The village, I think,’ Laurel replied. She would have preferred to go shopping but she knew how much Elaine wanted to show her Willowmere and they could always shop another day.
‘So how about a leisurely stroll and then we’ll have lunch at the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms? It may not be as upmarket as the places where you usually eat, but they won’t be able to beat the food that Emma and her husband serve to their customers.
‘Then if you like I’ll take you to the surgery and introduce you to James. He will want to arrange a time to interview you. Beth Jackson, who is leaving, wants to go as soon as possible. She and her husband are opening a business next to the post office and if you feel the need, by all means wear the gloves, though I do think that you have no call to be so self-conscious about your hands.’
Laurel wasn’t sure about visiting the surgery. ‘Don’t you think that David Trelawney might feel that since arriving here I’ve been continually in his line of vision?’ she said dubiously. ‘At the station, in the garden, when he was driving past on his way to house calls, and at sunset last night.’
‘He’ll be seeing much more of you than that if you’re working at the same place,’ Elaine said laughingly. ‘And how do you know he won’t feel that he can’t get too much of a good thing?’
Laurel couldn’t bring herself to share in Elaine’s amusement. How long, if ever, was it going to be before she felt desirable once more? Each time Darius had visited her in hospital it had been clear that he wasn’t keen on the damaged version, and as she’d fought her way through the pain it had been with her confidence at a very low ebb.
As they walked along the main street Elaine was greeted by everyone they met and Laurel was aware that some curious glances were coming her way, which was not surprising as she was wearing a high-necked sweater, a hat and gloves on a hot summer day.
This is so different from city life, she was thinking as she took in the friendliness of the people. She and her fellow nurses had often commented that in London people were always rushing about, and getting to know one’s next-door neighbour was a rare event, but in Willowmere life seemed to be lived at a slower pace, as if each moment was to be cherished rather than passed quickly by.
It had always been Elaine who had been her visitor before this, staying at the apartment and enjoying every moment with the niece that she loved like a daughter, but now it was Laurel’s turn to leave her natural habitat for a while.
And now here she was, happy to be with the one person who loved her unconditionally, yet feeling totally out of her depth amongst quaint limestone cottages and shops that had an individuality all their own.
‘We passed the surgery last night if you remember,’ Elaine said, indicating a large stone building across the way from where they’d just had an excellent lunch. Noting Laurel’s lack of enthusiasm, she added, ‘Are you sure you want to meet the people who work there?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said with assumed heartiness, deciding that she may as well get it over with. At least it was only a place for local people with their ailments. There would be no rows of beds or doctors with sombre expressions looking down at her, and nurses treating one of their own with sympathy and efficiency.
She’d been introduced to the two receptionists, both of them middle-aged, pleasant and organised, met the two practice nurses and discovered that it was a delicatessen that Beth Jackson and her husband were going to open very soon at the other end of the main street.
At that moment the door of the nearest consulting room opened and an attractive, dark-haired woman was framed there, holding a baby in her arms. The doctor she’d been consulting was close behind and as she was about to leave he bent and kissed her tenderly.
Laurel’s eyes widened and as Elaine steered her in the opposite direction she explained, ‘That is baby Arran Allardyce come to see his daddy. Ben is helping out while Georgina, his wife, who is one of our regular doctors, is on maternity leave.’
‘I see,’ Laurel said, and wished that she had a man in her life to kiss her like that and a beautiful baby to go with it. Day would turn into night before that ever happened in the light of recent events.
James Bartlett, the senior partner, was all that Elaine had described him to be, pleasant, handsome, a very likeable man with two lovely children if the photograph on his desk was anything to go by, and when they’d been introduced her aunt left them to get acquainted.
She’d removed the hat by then, deciding that if she was going to be employed there it was only fair that the man sitting opposite should see what she really looked like, yet she needn’t have worried. James didn’t seem to see anything too odd about the young woman that Elaine had brought to the surgery. ‘When could you come for an interview, Laurel?’
‘Whenever,’ she replied. ‘My time is my own at present.’
‘Then how about on the afternoon of the day that Elaine returns from the leave that she arranged in honour of your arrival? Say two o’clock?’ As she got up to go he shook her hand and said, ‘We’ll look forward to seeing you then.’
She was missing nursing, but until Elaine had suggested she work at the practice had felt it would be too painful to go back to it. But there was something about this pleasant village health care centre that was reaching out to her…and of course there was David Trelawney. Where was he today?
Yesterday she’d been too frazzled to really register the man who’d come to her rescue when she’d been getting off the train, but now she was curious to see if he was as presentable as she’d thought. It would be nice to see him again now that she was in residence, so to speak, and it would give her the opportunity to express further gratitude for his assistance, but it seemed that it was not to be on this bright summer day, and it did rather take the edge off it.
If she and Elaine had walked a little further she would have had the answer to her question. David’s car was parked outside the village hall. He’d been about to start his home visits when a call had come through and he’d gone straight there to find the chairlady of the Women’s Institute, who were holding their usual monthly meeting on the premises, looking far from well.
She was experiencing severe chest pains, perspiring heavily, and her lips were blue. Before he’d even sounded her heart David was phoning for an ambulance and telling her gently, ‘I’m sending you to hospital, Mrs Tate.’
She nodded. Maisie Tate was no fool. She wouldn’t be chairlady of Willowmere’s branch of the Women’s Institute if she was. She could tell that the new doctor at the practice had her down for a heart attack and she didn’t think he was wrong.
But if that was the case, who was going to look after her husband? Barry always had kippers for tea on a Thursday and she wasn’t going to be able to call at the fishmonger’s on her way home today.
David had finished examining her and as another stab of pain ripped across her chest he said reassuringly, ‘The ambulance will be here any moment, Mrs Tate, and they’ll take you straight to hospital when I’ve had a word with the paramedics.’
The rest of the Women’s Institute was hovering around her anxiously and one of them, who must have known her routine, said, ‘Don’t worry, Maisie. I’ll get your Barry his kippers.’
She nodded and David thought incredulously that this was the age group