The Village Nurse's Happy-Ever-After. Abigail Gordon

room where Rory was, and he had to change his assumption.

      As soon as he saw the boy’s leg, he knew that the district nurse had been right to send for a doctor.

      ‘How long is it since they sent Rory home from the hospital?’ he asked as he scrutinised the wound.

      ‘Last night,’ Jake told him.

      ‘How long since the accident?

      ‘A couple of days before. His parents are still in there, both with concussion, broken legs and pelvic injuries. Once they’d seen to Rory’s leg, the doctors decided that he would be better out of hospital and sent him to me, his uncle, for the time being.’

      So far Phoebe hadn’t spoken. Harry Balfour had that effect on her, making her clam up when she should be showing him that she was no pushover. When he turned to her after he’d finished examining the leg, he found himself looking into her wide brown gaze and seeing a defiant kind of wariness there.

      Yet not for long. It quickly turned to surprise when he said crisply, ‘You were right to send for one of us. I’m of the opinion that Rory is allergic to the antiseptic cream they gave him at the hospital. Although it is highly recommended by most doctors, I have heard of the occasional case where the patient has had an allergic reaction to one of its components, so we will change the ointment and check the condition of the injury once again after twenty-four hours.’

      He was writing out a prescription as he spoke and said to Phoebe, ‘I see there’s a chemist two doors away. If you would like to pop in there and get this made up, perhaps Mr. Stephenson might have another cup of coffee on offer before I depart.’

       Chapter Two

      SO HARRY BALFOUR was human after all, Phoebe thought while the chemist was making up the prescription. Not as approachable as that nice guy Jake maybe, but not quite as scary and abrupt as she’d at first thought. Although, of course, it was early days. He didn’t yet know there was a teething infant just across the landing, and his reaction to that might depend on just how much he valued his sleep!

      When she returned to the shop, he’d departed, leaving a message to say he’d gone back to the practice to prepare for the second surgery of the day. So once she had put the new antiseptic cream on Rory’s leg and placed a clean dressing over the infected area, she bade uncle and nephew goodbye, promising to return the next day to check on the effects of the new cream, and proceeded to the next housebound patient on her list.

      She was back at the surgery by half past three. After updating her patients’ records, Phoebe was about to depart just after four when Harry came out of his consulting room. Observing that she was dressed for going out into the cold January day once more, he asked, ‘Have you had another callout?’

      She smiled weakly. ‘Er, no. I finish at four. Ethan agreed that I could.’

      ‘I see,’ he commented. ‘And you didn’t think fit to inform me of an arrangement you’d made with my predecessor?’

      ‘It is in my records, Dr Balfour.’

      ‘Maybe, but I only arrived back in Bluebell Cove late last night. Since I presented myself here in the surgery at a very early hour this morning, there have been many things I needed to get to know. As you might imagine, checking staff records is low on my list of priorities at the moment.’

      ‘I’m sorry. It was remiss of me not to mention it,’ she said, uncomfortable in the knowledge that he hadn’t the slightest idea why she was allowed to finish early, and probably wasn’t going to be over the moon when he found out.

      Ethan had agreed to her finishing at four each day when she’d started work at the end of her maternity leave, and she’d been most grateful—it had meant she’d been able to collect Marcus from the nursery earlier than she’d expected. The normal finishing time for surgery staff was six-thirty, so the early finish gave her an extra two and a half hours each weekday evening with her baby. It had meant less pay but time with Marcus came first.

      ‘So you’d better be off, then, hadn’t you, if that’s the arrangement?’ Harry said into the middle of the awkward moment. ‘We’ll have a chat regarding your hours when I’ve had the chance to settle in properly.’

      She nodded and went hurrying off. Watching her go, he wondered what it was about her that brought out the worst in him.

      Was it because she was so strangely beautiful…and alive?

      When Phoebe arrived at the nursery the report on Marcus was that he’d been a little fretful but otherwise fine. She breathed a sigh of relief. There was no indication that the tooth that was bothering him had come through but at least, from what Beth had said, he hadn’t been crying all day.

      Teething, walking, talking…they were all natural processes in the normal growth of a child, she thought, but could still prove to be times of anxiety for the parent until they had been safely achieved.

      From half past six onwards, after the surgery had closed, Phoebe was listening for the footsteps on the stairs, but all was silent. She wondered if Harry was still down there catching up with more information regarding the running of the surgery, or if he had gone out somewhere.

      Marcus had been asleep for hours and she was about to slide under the covers herself when she heard him come upstairs. It was gone ten o’clock, and Phoebe felt herself relaxing. They may not have had the best of introductions, the single mother and the abrupt widower, but it was good to feel that she wasn’t on her own above the sprawling surgery complex.

      Barbara Balfour had rung Harry late that morning to pass on a word of welcome, and to enquire if everything had been in order both below and above when he’d arrived the night before.

      ‘Yes,’ he’d told her, ‘everything is fine.’

      ‘So will you come and dine with us tonight, Harry?’ she’d said. ‘We are both so pleased to have you back here in Bluebell Cove. It seems a long time since you and Jenna used to take your surfboards down to the beach for hours on end.’

      ‘That’s because it is a long time, Aunt Barbara,’ he’d said with one of his rare smiles. ‘It seems strange to think of Jenna married with a baby.’

      ‘Strange or not, it is so,’ he’d been assured. ‘Her husband Lucas is a cardiac surgeon. I’m one of his patients, as a matter of fact. Our son-in-law is also a great friend of Ethan. He and Francine are godparents to our little Lily.’

      ‘It all sounds very happy and cosy.’ he’d said lightly, relieved that she hadn’t been able to witness the envy in his expression.

      Nonetheless, he’d accepted Barbara’s invitation. Having been warned by Ethan about the physical deterioration of his hostess, he had concealed his dismay when he saw her, while at the same time taking note that the razor-sharp mind was still very much in evidence.

      After a pleasant evening with his relations, he’d left, promising Barbara that he would keep her informed about what was going on at the practice. At the moment of departure he’d paused and asked, ‘Did you know that the other apartment is occupied, Aunt Barbara?’

      Her expression had said she hadn’t known and her husband Keith said, ‘It will be an arrangement that Ethan will have agreed to before he left—probably a member of the staff.’

      ‘That’s correct,’ Harry had told him. ‘Her name is Phoebe Howard, she’s the district nurse.’

      The retired doctor had shaken her head. ‘Although I take a great interest in the practice, I’m afraid I don’t know every member of staff, Harry. She must be someone new.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose that could be it,’ he’d agreed, and after saying his farewells had disappeared into the winter night.

      And now he was back at the apartment and wondering