The Nurse(31)

I didn’t eat well on nights either, and it showed. My cheeks were gaunt and my wide mouth and over-large nose were emphasised further as a result. Luckily, any hint of vanity had been hammered from me many years before.

It didn’t take me long to decide what to wear since my wardrobe consisted of trousers, T-shirts and two shirts. I remembered Carol’s upmarket, boutique clothes from the training day. I couldn’t compete but neither did I want to look like I needed a handout. A pair of baggy white cotton trousers with a tight-fitting almost-white T-shirt was the best I could do. The black cat logo on the T was a little childish perhaps, but that couldn’t be helped.

I threw my phone and purse inside the patchwork bag I’d bought for fifty pence in the sale box of a charity shop, locked up and headed off. I’d decided to walk. Alice Park was only two miles away, and it would be nice to breathe air not tainted by the super-heated air of nursing homes. It was a flat route; the day was sunny with a slight breeze, and I strode out feeling good despite my lack of sleep.

As I neared my destination, my footsteps slowed. I was still unsure of what to make of Carol, of her desire to promote a friendship between us. My earlier experience with my peers had left me with a reluctance to mix with them socially. Was I self-contained or anti-social? I wasn’t quite sure. What I was sure of, however, was that there was more to Carol than was obvious.

Although I arrived at the café ten minutes to midday, she was there before me, at a table sheltered from the midday sun by the large canopy that covered most of the outdoor space. She looked as if she’d been there quite a while too, a book spread open on the table in front of her, an empty plate beside her holding crumbs of whatever she’d eaten.

‘Hi,’ I said, dropping my bag on a chair opposite. ‘Did I get the time wrong?’

She dragged her focus from her book with what seemed to be extreme reluctance. Maybe I’d got the time wrong. Perhaps we’d arranged to meet at eleven. My fingers itched to reach for my mobile so I could check. Instead, I stood waiting for her to say something, the smile on my face feeling ridiculously forced.

‘No, you’re okay. It was such a nice day, I came early.’ She shut the paperback and patted it. ‘I was hoping to get it finished but never mind.’

I took my purse from my bag. ‘Can I get you another coffee?’

‘Thanks, a large cappuccino, please.’

‘Okay, back in a sec.’

There was a queue at the counter. It gave me a chance to look at the menu displayed on the wall behind, and I cursed my polite offer when I saw the price of the coffee. I’d been so careful with money for the last few years, it didn’t come easily with me to spend it on something so frivolous. Especially for someone else.

Service was incredibly slow and by the time it was my turn, I’d been staring at the selection of pastries for so long that my mouth was watering and I gave in to the temptation.

‘Here you go,’ I said. I balanced the tray against the edge of the table and offloaded Carol’s coffee, my cake and mug of tea. Tea, I’d discovered, was a pound cheaper than coffee making my choice a no-brainer.

I sat and rested the empty tray against the side of my chair. I was going to be magnanimous and wave a careless hand when she offered me the money for her coffee, but when she didn’t, when she simply stirred sugar into it and began to drink it as if it had been free, I felt a surge of irritation.

‘How did your night shifts go?’ she asked, putting her cup down.

‘Fine.’ I heard the bite in the word but if she did, there was no obvious sign. I looked around at the pretty setting, sat back in my chair and allowed my tense shoulders to relax. I might as well enjoy the money I’d spent. The almond Bakewell I’d chosen was fresh, crumbly and delicious. I ate the lot, and when it was gone, licked the pad of my finger to gather the remaining crumbs.

‘Good?’ Carol asked regarding me with a raised eyebrow.

‘Very,’ I replied. I pushed the plate away and lifted my mug of tea. ‘This is a nice place. Do you live far away?’

‘Five minutes’ walk.’ She pointed to a road visible through the branches of the trees that surrounded the café. ‘Down that way.’

‘Fuller Road?’ It was a stab in the dark. There were a number of roads within a five-to-ten-minute walk away.

She hesitated, looking at me oddly. ‘I didn’t know you knew the area. No, not Fuller, a little further along Gloucester Road.’ And then, obviously deciding it was silly to be so mysterious, she added, ‘Swainswick Gardens.’

‘I worked with the agency in the Larkhall Nursing Home, years ago,’ I explained. ‘That’s not far from you, is it?’

She shook her head slowly. ‘No, it isn’t.’ She lifted her coffee and sipped slowly, looking at me as if I’d just revealed some great secret. ‘I didn’t realise you’d done agency work before.’

How would she have done? She knew as much about me as I knew about her. ‘While I was a student nurse, I worked every day I was free. My university fees were paid for, but I needed to earn money for everything else.’

‘That can’t have been easy.’

It had been an endlessly exhausting trudge. There had been times when I wasn’t sure I’d be able to continue, when I wanted time for myself, a day off from everything. Days when I wondered if moving Mother would be such a bad thing after all. Then I’d visit her and know I couldn’t do it. ‘It paid the bills, I can’t complain.’ I nodded in the direction of her home. ‘Have you lived in this area long?’