Authors: Stella Whitelaw
‘I’m stronger than you think,’ said Jessica.
‘You don’t look strong enough to lift a bedpan.’
‘I should hope you are bathroom trained.’
‘I’m convalescing after a serious operation, I’ll have you know. I need a great deal of care and attention.’
‘Hip and knee replacements are routine these days and highly successful,’ said Jessica. ‘You’ll be as right as rain in no time, and free of pain.’
Lady Grace snorted. ‘I’m certainly not free of pain yet. I need regular medication.’
‘I can do regular medication,’ said Jessica calmly.
‘Any idiot can pop a couple of capsules and fill a glass with water. I don’t need your help.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I shall be free then to make sure you eat the right foods and take the right amount of exercise. Exercise is the key. It will all help to make your recovery quick and painless.’
‘I can do all of that by myself, thank you, Nurse, Matron, whatever you are,’ said Lady Grace. ‘Well, if you have got to stay, I suppose I’ll have to get used to it. What am I supposed to call you?’
‘Jessica will do fine,’ said Jessica.
‘I don’t like fancy names. I shall call you Jess.’
Jessica fumed. She hated her name being shortened. It made her sound as if she was a dog. A shaggy dog at that.
Lady Grace was indeed tetchy and short tempered. She was sitting in an armchair by the big bay window in her bedroom, dressed in a fawn skirt and blue twin set, a double string of pearls at her neck. Her fine grey hair was drawn back into a French pleat and pinned with combs. She had a certain pallor after her operation and the lines on her face were not all bad temper and impatience.
‘Shakespeare didn’t think Jessica was a fancy name,’ said Jessica. ‘He used it in one of his plays,
The Merchant of Venice
. Jessica was the daughter of Shylock, in love with Lorenzo.’
‘Makes no difference. I’ll still call you Jess, Shakespeare or not. Never could stand all that rubbish. Shakespeare indeed.’
Jessica let it pass. There were more important things to discuss. She had a feeling that Lady Grace was not moving about much or doing any exercises.
‘How are you getting on with the exercises they gave you at the hospital?’ she asked. ‘Have you got the printed sheet?’
‘They are too painful so I’m not doing them,’ said Lady Grace. ‘Getting from my bed to this chair is all I can do at present.’ She nodded towards the window. ‘I like the view. It’s perfect, don’t you agree?’
Jessica moved towards the bay window. She could appreciate the glorious countryside now, hill upon hill of the South Downs, once deeply forested, now for grazing sheep and growing corn. The view from this window was of the gardens which she had not noticed, arriving in the rain in Lucas’s low-slung car. The rain had flattened some of the flowers, the heavy heads hanging with abandon to the elements. But the droplets were glistening in the late sun and the garden looked magical.
‘It is indeed a beautiful garden, a beautiful view,’ said Jessica. ‘You’ll be able to walk round it very soon. Once we get you downstairs.’
‘I can’t go downstairs!’ Lady Grace was aghast. ‘I can’t do stairs. Far too painful. I can barely reach this chair.’
‘The more exercise you do, the less painful it will be,’ said Jessica patiently. ‘The long term success of this operation depends on the patient strengthening the leg muscles that hold up the hip. So, regular exercise.’
‘I’m not just the patient,’ said Lady Grace indignantly. ‘I’m Lady Grace Coleman, not a nobody. I know what I can do and what I can’t do.’
Jessica held back a sharp retort. She paced the bedroom, judging its size. It was a big room, decorated in a style of thirty years ago, heavy walnut furniture with dark rose flowered curtains and toning carpet. Silver-backed brushes lay on the dressing table with an old-fashioned glass powder bowl and puff. A single tube of Max Factor dark red lipstick and bottle of clear nail varnish stood beside a large bottle of Elizabeth Arden eau de cologne.
‘You have a beautiful room, too,’ said Jessica. ‘But it will become your prison if you don’t get some exercise. I suggest you walk from one side of the room to the other once every hour, holding onto something. Then tomorrow you can walk to the landing and back and perhaps try one or two steps of the stairs.’
‘The stairs? Are you trying to kill me, young woman? I can’t do the stairs. My son, Lucas, will have to have one of those
newfangled
stair lifts put in.’
‘On the contrary, I’m going to get you downstairs and into the garden. You won’t need a stair lift, I promise you. It would spoil that lovely staircase. You need lots of encouragement and a positive attitude.’
Lady Grace swung round in her chair and the sudden
movement
was painful. She gasped, her fury overriding the pain.
‘I won’t be spoken to like this. You can leave my house
immediately
. Lucas can get another nanny for the children.’ She sat back, her face reddening, her hands clutched together.
Jessica searched the bedside table for prescription painkillers. She couldn’t find them. But Lady Grace’s leather handbag was on the floor by the bed. She opened it and a packet of painkillers, with her name from the hospital dispensary, was inside. She fetched a glass of water from the adjacent bathroom and took two tablets to Lady Grace.
‘Here you are. These will help. You shouldn’t lean forward in a chair or in bed for the first couple of weeks. The hospital told you that, didn’t they? And you need a high-rise toilet seat. I’ll get one for you.’
‘You’ve been in my bathroom,’ Lady Grace spluttered.
‘That’s right,’ said Jessica. ‘I’m a nurse. I go in bathrooms.’
‘Not in mine, you don’t.’
The air was strained and Lady Grace abruptly fell silent.
‘I’ll go and make some tea. I think we could both do with a cup of tea,’ said Jessica. She had to get away from this
exasperating
woman.
‘Is that hair colour natural?’ was her parting shot.
‘It’s certainly not a wig,’ said Jessica.
Jessica escaped to the peace of the landing, her heart
pounding
. She had never, in all her days of nursing, had such an impossible twenty minutes with a patient. She could easily grab her coat and her case and walk back to the station. It might take an hour, two hours. But Jessica knew she couldn’t walk out on a difficult patient: Lady Grace needed her or that operation would have been wasted.
Jessica took several deep breaths to steady herself.
This prickly old woman needed help. The hip replacement would not be a success if she refused to exercise and she would be back to square one. Back to constant pain and unable to get about at all.
It was a challenge. Jessica could not resist a challenge.
Mrs Harris, the housekeeper, was busy in the kitchen
supervising
the children’s tea. The scene was pleasant and homely. Jessica noted the big Aga range pumping out heat and moved towards it. This was somewhere to get warm.
‘Hello, Mrs Harris. I’m Jessica Harlow, nurse of sorts for the next three months, looking after Lady Grace. I think she would appreciate a tray of tea, if you have time. Something to calm her nerves. She is a little frayed by my arrival.’
‘Of course, Miss Harlow. I’ll take a tray up to her ladyship immediately. Perhaps you’d like some tea yourself. You could join the children.’
‘That’s exactly what I shall do,’ said Jessica gratefully. ‘And no need to call me Miss Harlow, Jessica will do.’
She sat down at the kitchen table, aware that the two
children
had been listening to the conversation. They looked at her expectantly. Now she was going to meet them and make friends. She hoped that they were not as prickly as their dragon grandmother.
‘Hello,’ she said, turning her attention to the little girl. ‘And who are you?’
The little girl was squirming in her seat, her eyes bright with excitement. She was about five years old, a little on the plump side, but as pretty as a picture with a riot of dark curls and bewitching lashes that were outrageously long.
‘I’m Lily,’ she said, wriggling. ‘I’m five. I go to school now.’
‘Nice to meet you, Lily.’ She shook a sticky hand with a solemn dignity. ‘You must show me some of your school work. I’d like to see it.’
‘Do we call you Jessica Willdo?’
Jessica laughed. The first genuine laugh of the day. It lit up
her face and she was transformed. Her true face was often hidden behind professional calmness. But when she laughed, her periwinkle blue eyes sparkled like gems and her mouth curved into an irresistible shape of happiness.
‘Jessica Willdo, will do.’
‘I like you already,’ said Lily, still chewing on her jam
sandwich
. ‘I like you better than our last nanny. All she did was smoke all the time and watch television.’
‘First of all, Lily, I will put you straight. I am not your nanny. I am a nurse who is here to look after your grandmother after her operation. But at the same time, I’ll be around for you both, keep an eye on you. You can come to me any time, ask me anything, and we’ll do things together.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘For a start, I thought we might go to Worthing and see what’s there, walk on the beach if the tide is out. You’ll need your Wellington boots.’
Lily jumped up and down in her chair, wheezing. ‘Can we go now, Willdo?’
Jessica laughed again, so much that she nearly spilt her tea. ‘It’s far too late, poppet. We’ll see about tomorrow or the next day.’
She turned her attention to the boy who had not said a word. He was concentrating on his tea. She noticed that he had lined up the jam, the butter dish, and a jar of Marmite in front of his plate, like sentries. His cup of tea was exactly in line with his plate and he had put the spoon rigidly straight by the saucer.
‘Hello,’ she said gently. ‘I’m Jessica. Who are you?’
‘Who are you?’ he said.
‘I’ve just explained. I’m Jessica, a nurse who has come to look after your grandmother after her operation. Nice to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
Lily piped up, her mouth lined with jam, ‘Daniel doesn’t say much. He likes being alone. He doesn’t like people.’
Jessica noticed the lack of eye contact. Daniel would not look at her. There was no communication between them. She tried
again. It might be initial shyness.
‘I’d like us all to be friends while I’m here. It could be such fun. I have lots of plans.’ This was not true, but she had time to make some instant plans. ‘We’ll do all sorts of things together. And I know that someone soon has a birthday.’ There was no response. ‘You don’t want to be stuck in the house all the time, do you?’
‘All the time,’ said Daniel.
Alarm bells were ringing in Jessica’s head. The repetition of her words. His whole posture had not moved. He lived in another world, no contact with this one. He was cutting his sandwich into exact squares and lining them into rows. He then ate them in order. At least, he was eating, methodically.
‘Never mind, Daniel. We’ll talk another time.’
‘Another time,’ he said.
Jessica finished her tea. She was not hungry. The emotion of the last few hours had drained her appetite. Perhaps later, she would poke around and make herself a cheese sandwich.
‘Willdo?’ asked Lily, still wheezing as she started on a big slice of home-made sponge cake, ‘are you going to put us to bed? Are you going to read us a story?’
‘I guess I can do all that. What story would you like me to read?’
‘The one about the baby mole who couldn’t find his way home in the fading light.’ Lily was perfectly sure about her favourite story.
‘That’s a new one on me,’ said Jessica. ‘And what’s your favourite story, Daniel?’
This threw the boy off balance. He was seven, coming on eight, and looked a lot like his father. He was going to be lean and tall, incredibly handsome, break a few hearts one day. He had no answer to that question. He drew swirls on his plate with smears of Marmite. He did not look at her.
‘Perhaps you’ll tell me later,’ said Jessica, throwing him a lifeline.
‘Later,’ he said.
Jessica stood outside the house in the falling dusk and wondered where she would find Lucas. He said he had a room over the stables. She had no intention of going to his room but she might find his car parked in the stables.
She wasn’t angry but she was annoyed that Lucas had not been straight with her. He had got her down here to Upton Hall on false pretences about the children and there was no way he was going to escape her tongue.
She had an anorak over her shoulders because the trees were still spilling their raindrops. The garden scent was heady and the landscape was mesmerizing her. She wondered if she could cut some flowers and put them in her room. A few wouldn’t be missed. She loved fresh flowers. She always bought herself a bunch in a market.
The peace of the garden was soothing, the mist spinning round her like a cocoon. Perhaps she would be beamed up to some alien ship and transported to an Elysian community. It would be peaceful there.
‘Have you survived?’ Lucas was coming out of the mist, clad now in Wellington boots and worn anorak, his hair still plastered wet to his head. He looked breathtakingly handsome. ‘You don’t look too shattered. How did you get on with the dragon, Lady Grace?’
‘I think I won,’ said Jessica.
‘First round to you, then.’
‘Do you have the walker frame? Surely the hospital issued one for your mother to use? She needs it.’
‘It’s downstairs, in a cupboard. My mother won’t use it. Says it makes her look a cripple. It does look a bit like sheltered housing gear.’
‘She will be a cripple if she doesn’t get some exercise. Can you resurrect it and take it upstairs? I shall get her to use it.’
‘Your word is my command.’ Lucas bowed his head in mock deference, looking grave, almost grim. ‘I obey the
dragon-slayer
.’
‘Daniel and Lily,’ said Jessica, changing the subject.
‘My two delightful children.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘Tell you what?’ He looked defensive, a hard set on his face, but still someone in charge. He looked over her head, out into the garden.