Angel Kate (14 page)

'Now we're in the Tudor part of the building,' explained Tom. And down this short flight of steps is the kitchen.' He ushered her in as if she were a VIP guest. 'Kate this is Bess. Bess, here's my special nurse, Kate Wisdom.'

The kitchen was a surprise - large, warm and light, with creamy walls and a big red Aga. Ivory cupboards and dressers looked freshly painted even though they had obviously been there for many years. Open shelves displayed china and from a rail hung gleaming stainless steel pans.

The floors were slate flags, with faded old rugs by the sink and the Aga range. The scrubbed-pine table was surrounded by an assortment of wheelback chairs and working at the table was Bess, kneading bread  on a big floured board.

Stretching and folding, kneading and stretching, so sure of what she was doing that her hands continued their work while with curious eyes she examined the woman she'd just seen Tom cuddling out there in the sunshine. Bess had thought nurses wore blue uniform dresses, sensible shoes, black tights and a frilly cap. And here was a tall skinny girl with long loose hair, wearing a cotton slip of a dress and red sandals, milk-pale and pretty beside her big healthy patient.

Who's going to be looking after who? thought Bess wryly. Don't look nothing much wrong with Tom nowadays, and once that arm of his gets going  he'll be back doing them operations me and Stan just marvel at. If only his Gran could see  him now …she'd be so proud of him and George! What good lads they've turned into.

'Can't shake hands, Kate. Pleased to meet  you m'dear. You like a coffee? Tom love, make the nurse a coffee, there's a good 'un.'

'May I have a drink of tap water? I can help myself.'

'Course you can, me dearie-o. There's glasses on the draining board.'

Tom was there before her. 'The water's good – comes from our own spring.'

'And one for yourself,' Bess heard the nurse say. 'I hope you're drinking plenty.'

Bess grinned to herself. She could just picture the grimace on his lordship's face.
Doctors – bless'em.

Kate came and stood next to her, watching closely. 'Will you teach me to make bread, Bess? Mine turns out a bit heavy.'

'We'll make an expert of you,' chuckled the older woman, her body small and lean under her big white apron. 'Tom showed you your room yet?'

 'Just about to do that,' he said, putting his good arm across Kate's back and steering her out of the kitchen. 'Bess, dear, I'll have my lunch on a tray in the study. It'll give you two a chance to gossip.

When they were gone, Bess pummelled the dough with new vigour. She wouldn't see seventy again and her energy wasn't what it used to be.  Sometimes she thought it might be time to get one of them there machines to mix the bread. But that girl had filled her with ideas and while her  hands moved automatically her thoughts were flying ahead…

Now that's the kind of girl suit our Tom, she told herself. Diana don't like this place and if you ask me she's not the marrying kind. They've been together what … five years? Had their bit of fun. Now they ought go their own ways, so they ought.

'Tom's always told me everything,' she said out loud, 'right since he were knee-high to a grasshopper. That woman broke his heart when she was in medical school and he were learning how to be a surgeon. Didn't see her for years, did he, not till he got consultant-like. Open your eyes, Tom. There's other women out there. Nurse Kate for a start…'

*  *  *

'You're in the Painted Room. On your left at the top of the stairs. Go ahead, I'll bring your case.'

Tom followed, carrying her bag in his good hand and enjoying a close-up view of Kate's flawless bare legs. He could almost see her knickers, her skirt was so short. Pink silk again? he wondered, smiling at his secret thoughts.

He flung wide the first door they came to and Kate's jaw dropped.

Above her head, was a painted medieval ceiling, a stylised design of honeysuckle that had once been a rich terracotta but was now faded to a pinky brown. She was to sleep beneath a ceiling a craftsman had painted hundreds of years ago. How
amazing!

'Quite something isn't it,' agreed Tom. 'So many of these medieval ceilings got painted over.'

 Kate was lost for words. This  beat any six-star hotel bedroom.  'I feel as if I've stepped back in time for hundreds of years,' she whispered, turning in a slow circle, her head tilted back, her hair falling almost to her waist …

Two windows with sills so deep you could curl up there on padded tapestry cushions. Old oak furniture and a plump paisley eiderdown to match the curtains on the half-tester bed.

'Granny's bed,' said Tom, 'she died in this room. 'Never took to a  duvet.'

'Oh I'm sorry,' said Kate politely. It didn't worry her in the least and the idea of sleeping in such a historic room was thrilling.

'New mattress though. Nice pocket-sprung job. See?' Tom sat on the  bed and demonstrated how good the springs were while Kate gazed at him wide-eyed, thinking to herself here was Mr Galvan, neuro-surgeon extraordinaire,
bouncing on her bed!

'Your bathroom's just along the corridor,' said Tom casually. He was enjoying Kate's delight in his precious home. 'And in case I need a bit of TLC in the night, that door in the panelling leads to my bedroom.'

'Door?' Kate was puzzled.

Tom showed her. 'It's very low so be careful. I've had some nasty cracks on that.'

This casual warning brought Kate back down to earth. Such a very convenient arrangement for accommodating his women friends.

A nurse, of course, didn't come into this category. It was sensible to have  her within calling distance, of course it was…

Was this Diana's room? Were there traces of her lovely perfume?

You are so pathetically naïve! scoffed an inner voice. Diana sleeps in Tom's room …

Tom was about to open the low door and lead her into his bedroom. For some reason this threw Kate into a panic and she flung a hand out to delay him. 'I'd better  unpack before my clothes get creased.'

'That's not going to take you five minutes. I'll be over at the pool. I feel like a swim and it's  your job to stop me.'  

Here we go!
Kate swallowed and tried to sound authoritative. 'I must take your blood pressure and check you over,' she said, unzipping her wheeled suitcase.

'Diana's been seeing to all that. I'm fine.'

Kate didn't say it aloud but she had come here to work and she'd concede with his wishes only till she'd found her feet and could organise their routine. Daily checks, massages, brisk walks. Every single day.

When she was alone Kate opened the  windows, craning her neck in vain for a view of Tom's wretched swimming pool.

There was Lottie, bathed in late-May sunshine. She must move her into the shade. Maybe put her in one of the barns since there was no sign of anything so modern as a garage.

It had been really sweet of James to offer the loan of his car, but really there was only one sensible thing to do. Cycling to work in the rain was no fun, nor was dragging heavy shopping bags home on foot. She must stop playing the martyr, punishing herself for the frivolous wasted years.

  Buying Lottie was a statement. Move over Austerity Kate, bring in Katie Wisdom in new lighter mode. It had been silly to try to manage with just a bicycle. And silly to think a bit of makeup meant you were vain and self-obsessed. Going bare-faced wasn't a virtue, for goodness' sake.

She'd Diana to thank for bringing her to her senses.

K
ate stacked her clothes on the bed. The dress she was wearing was the only pretty thing she'd brought with her. Everything else was her 'uniform' for the next two weeks.

Tom wouldn't give her a second glance in this lot. The good bits would be next to her skin, but he wouldn't get to see those unless - heaven forbid!-  there was another catastrophe.

Kate found what she was looking for. She set the silver frame on the table next to her bed and in this unfamiliar setting Ben's face startled her afresh in its resemblance to his father. Yes, Kate could see herself in the child too: Olwen was absolutely right.

Someone had lined the drawers of the dark wood chest with delicately rose-perfumed paper. Too good for this lot! frowned Kate, banging the drawers shut in a flare of frustration. She felt very alive, very self-aware. And that was dangerous, because there was only one reason for it. The reality of being back with Tom, and the prospect of summer nights with the two of them just paces away from each other …

Pull yourself together, RGN Wisdom! warned her conscience. This man is not available—and neither are you. You
promised
it was just a crush and that you could handle yourself and this job. You had no right to come here otherwise. That's why you brought white tops and dark skirts, remember? So you'd look like a nurse and not some lovesick idiot. Now get on with it. Change into clothes that make you look like the professional you're supposed to be… private nurse to a VIP patient.

Kate's thoughts now began to run out of control.
Tom looks so gorgeous with that beard… how am I going to tear my eyes off him?
She pulled her dress over her head and hung it on a hanger in the wardrobe, slipped on a white cotton blouse and a knee-length navy skirt.
Would someone kindly tell me how I'm supposed to keep my patient out of a swimming pool in his own home? And how does he think he's going to swim with a plastered arm.

Five minutes later she was still worrying as she crossed the high-vaulted hall with its great fireplace and long refectory table. Why must Tom be so damn awkward? Why didn't he just tell the hospital, no way do I need any nurse here supervising me - not even Gertie.

It wasn't hard to find her patient.

Several bright-striped deckchairs caught her eye and there was the lord and master of Foxe Manor,  long brown legs outstretched, one hand behind his head, plastered arm in its colourful sling resting across his bare brown chest. Discarded on the new-mown grass lay a crumpled linen shirt. Nearby was a folding table with a jug of Bess's home-made lemonade, two tall glasses and a platter of sticky flapjack cut into squares.

'Oh, here you are,' said Kate shyly. Tom hauled himself up at her arrival, hampered by his unequal balance. 'No, please don't get up,' she said, trying to stay him with an outstretched hand.

His eyes raked her over. 'You aren't dressed for a swim.'

Kate looked at the pool and at Tom, saw this was another of his teases and sighed with relief. 'I guessed you were pulling my leg,' she fibbed.

'Is that so?'

'Well I've had plenty of time to get to know the way your mind works.'

Even though his back was turned she could tell Tom was grinning as he poured the  lemonade. 'Then I must put your theory to the test.' 

Kate shuddered. That was one foolish remark she wouldn't be allowed to forget.

Deftly he slid two pieces of treacly flapjack onto her plate. Any other man with an arm in plaster would be clumsy. Did he think she was too skinny? …

'Ice?' he asked and 'Yes please,' she said.

Kate settled back in the deckchair and gazed up into the brilliant blue arc of the sky, plate balanced on her knee, the chilled glass cool and slippery in her two hands. Tom beside her, the two of them munching Bess's scrummy homebake, wasn't this just bliss …

Was it wrong to feel such a surge  of happiness at being back with this man? Yes! It was disgraceful to feel this way about a patient. Away from the confines of a hospital room, it should be so much easier to crush her feelings. But here she was and her heart was beating so hard and she could barely swallow. And she hardly dared look at Tom because in spite of her provocative claim, she never knew what he was going to do next. While he could read her like a book!

 'Delicious flapjack,' she mumbled, trying to divert the conversation onto safer tracks.

'I am
most
disappointed!'

Kate looked puzzled. Whatever recipe Bess used, it surely couldn't be bettered.

'Why have you changed, Kate.'

 Her eyes widened and she almost forgot to breathe.
Changed? He was terrifyingly perceptive …

'I liked you in that dress. Why did you take it off? And why do you drag your beautiful hair back like that. I wish you wouldn't.'

Beautiful hair!
Kate almost choked.

'Women with long mermaid hair and long legs,' he said mysteriously. 'In short summer dresses.' Or red satin, he mused, picturing Kate in some slinky red number.

 
She tugged at the hem of her  narrow skirt and ran her fingers over the buttons of her white short-sleeved shirt. 'We discussed it, Mrs Harris and I. She said I didn't need to wear uniform but navy, black or white would be appropriate. So that's what I've brought.'

Tom looked glum. If he wanted Kate in a  uniform of scarlet satin and suspenders it was none of Harris's business!

Well, at least she was here. He only had to reach out to touch her perfect pale skin as her skirt rode high on her thighs and the sun warmed her. To distract himself he said teasingly, 'So you like my swimming pool. It's teeming with little frogs. You do like frogs, don't you?'

Basically Kate was a town girl. She sat up and peered into the murky green depths. There seemed to be a lot of weedy stuff, and here and there the bright gleam of a goldfish just below the surface. Not one frog in sight.

'Frogs? I don't mind them.' She tried to feel positive about Tom's frogs, but her toes curled.

'My grandmother had the swimming pool put in when George and I were boys. She thought it would help keep us out of mischief when we were home from boarding school.'

'But where were your parents?'

'Both killed in a car accident in Italy when I was seven and George was nine. It was their first holiday without us two in tow.'

Kate didn't say anything but her hand clutched her throat. Tom hadn't finished though. There was more.

 'When he heard the news, Grandpa had a massive heart attack and died in the ambulance on the way to St Crispin's. So-o-o … then it was just Granny running this place with the help of Stan and Bess and a small team of workers from the village. There was a bit more money in those days. When Granny died, we got hit hard by death duties. I just about get by with renting the fields to local farmers. Why am I telling you all this? You can't possibly be interested.'