The Nurse(35)

Twenty-four-hour nursing care was expensive. It appeared Mrs Wallace was cutting corners where she could. ‘The same in the evening, is it?’

Carol was lost in thought. Probably anticipating Mrs Wallace’s reaction. ‘Yes,’ she said, finally. ‘I finish at six, she gives him his evening meal and stays with him till the night nurse arrives at ten.’ She lifted her tea, took a sip, and put it down with a grimace. ‘She’s not going to be happy with him being left in bed all day.’

‘It doesn’t look as if you’ve much choice.’ If I sounded a little bored, it was because I was. Bored, tired and sorry I hadn’t gone straight home rather than wasting my time coming to meet Carol.

‘It’s not fair. He doesn’t have much time left; he should be getting all the care he needs.’

‘Are you getting him out of bed for his sake or the wife’s?’ My question was reasonable. So often, as nurses, we were forced to do things for the family’s sake rather than the patient’s welfare. I saw the question annoyed Carol and hid my smile.

‘Keeping Mrs Wallace happy, keeps him happy. Annoying her will stress him.’

And stress Carol. I drained the last of that awful juice and put my glass down. ‘Right, I’d better let you get on with your day. I’m off to my bed.’

‘Unless…’

I was gathering up my bag and jacket and wondering if I should wait for a bus or walk the three miles to Bathford, when I was conscious of a speculative light in Carol’s eyes.

She reached across and grabbed hold of the strap of my bag. ‘Unless you came and helped me. Ten minutes max, then you can buzz off. The care assistant that comes in the afternoon is different so will turn up okay. I just need to get Mr Wallace up.’

I laughed, thinking she was joking. When I saw she was serious, my laughter stopped abruptly. ‘The agency would never allow it. I’ve just done a twelve-hour shift.’

‘They wouldn’t need to know.’

‘Ah,’ I said, looking at her with sudden understanding. ‘You mean you want me to work for nothing, is that it?’

She looked taken aback. ‘It’s ten minutes to help a friend, that’s all.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘I suppose, I could pay you. It would be worth it.’

It was so tempting to say okay, that I’d do it for a full hour’s pay. I was almost that petty, but only almost. ‘Right, ten minutes of my time. You can have it for free.’

Lansdown Road, where the Wallaces lived, was a long road, rising from Bath and twisting and turning for miles. I’d been along the first stretch of it once, years before, when some idiot manager in the hospital had arranged a night out in the Charlcombe Inn. The Wallaces lived closer to the city, on one of the nicer parts a little past St Stephen’s Church.

Carol parked on the road outside a beautiful three-storey detached house. ‘Here we are,’ she said, as if perhaps I was wondering why she’d stopped.

I stepped out, looked back down the road we’d travelled and admired the view over the chimney pots to the green fields on the other side of the city. Carol, probably conscious of my ten-minute time frame, was already hurrying towards the stone steps that led up to the front door.

She needn’t have worried. Now that I’d seen the house, my weariness had taken a back seat to my curiosity, and I wasn’t in a rush to leave. I peered down at the ground-floor windows as I climbed the broad steps. ‘Servants’ quarters on the ground floor, are they?’

‘Probably in the past,’ Carol said. She fiddled with the bunch of keys she held before slotting a Yale key into the lock. ‘The kitchen is down there, and a big living room that opens out into the garden, that’s all I’ve seen. There’s no staff, apart from a cleaner who comes in two afternoons a week. Mrs Wallace does the cooking herself.’

I was amused by the way she’d said that, as if Mrs Wallace cooking for herself and her husband was such an extraordinary thing. Carol was incredibly servile. It wasn’t my nature.

The front door opened into a large hallway. The wooden floor was covered with a selection of fine rugs in jewel colours. A stairway, with elaborately carved newel posts, curved from it to the upper floors. On this floor, closed doors were tantalising me. I desperately wanted to look behind each one, see what secrets lay there.

A house like this, there had to be secrets.





26





Carol looked up the stairway, then grabbed my arm. ‘Listen, I don’t want Mrs Wallace getting the wrong idea.’ She pulled me towards a door. ‘Would you wait in here until she’s gone. She’s always ready to leave for her golf as soon as I arrive, so I’ll give you a shout in a minute or two.’

It seemed unnecessarily cloak and daggerish to me. I was about to say so when it hit me what was really concerning Carol. She didn’t want Mrs Wallace to get the idea that the agency didn’t have sufficient staff and perhaps take her business elsewhere. Carol didn’t want to lose her coveted job. ‘Fine,’ I said. It wasn’t as if she was giving me much choice, her grip on my arm was vice-like and she was edging me towards the door as she spoke. Then before I could object, she opened it and shoved me, none too gently, inside.

I wouldn’t have minded so much had it been a room I could explore but the silly cow had shoved me into a cloakroom. One small window gave sufficient light, but apart from the pockets of the few coats that were hanging there, there was nothing else of interest, and nothing in any of the pockets apart from grotty paper tissues.