Falling for Her Impossible Boss. Alison Roberts

been curious about ever since she’d arrived. The closed door and curtains had fuelled her overactive imagination and she’d decided there was somebody in the room who had some terrible disfigurement they didn’t want anybody to see. She’d told her Aunt Kate that she thought it was probably the hunchback of Notre Dame in there.

      It was a bit of a disappointment to find it was an elderly woman. An extraordinarily beautiful woman, in fact, with skin that looked like it belonged on a peach and the most amazing silver hair Bella had ever seen. She kept stealing glances as she went through the routine of finger pricking and collecting a drop of blood to put on the end of the testing strip that was fitted into the glucometer. She did the job as gently as possible. Poor Lady Dorothy had a very nasty case of arthritis affecting both hands. Her joints were red and swollen and it looked as though she couldn’t move her fingers at all.

      Her patient wasn’t talking either. As the glances added up, Bella could see the sadness and her heart went out to the old lady. A real lady, no less.

      ‘Why do you keep looking at me like that?’

      Bella jumped. ‘Sorry, was I being rude? It’s just that I love your hair. If you could bottle a colour like that, you could make a fortune.’

      ‘It’s just grey.’

      ‘Oh, no …’ Bella shook her head emphatically. ‘It’s pure silver. And it sparkles. I had a pair of Lycra dance tights that were just that colour. I loved them, too.’

      But Lady Dorothy had lapsed back into silence. She was just sitting there, against her pillows, staring into space. Bella moved around the room, tidying things here and there. Heavens, it was hardly going to impress Sally if she didn’t get anything more than a disparaging comment about hair colour as a response when she was supposed to be cheering this patient up.

      The huge vase of fresh flowers probably needed some water but when Bella walked towards them, she caught her foot on a chair leg and sent something flying.

      Thank goodness Mr Dawson wasn’t around to witness her clumsiness. She could almost hear his voice saying something scathing like how typical of her that was.

      With an exasperated huff, Bella reached down to scoop up the bright pink object. Why on earth should she even care what he thought of her anyway? She wasn’t going to go back to being a theatre nurse. He’d put her off for life.

      The huff became a gasp as she realised what she was holding.

      ‘Oh, my God!’ She held up the thick, fleecy track pants with the wide elasticised waistband and viewed the item of clothing with horror. And then she felt her cheeks getting hot and whirled around to face the woman in the bed. ‘I do apologise, Lady Dorothy,’ she said. ‘These must be yours.’

      The look she got was pure ice. ‘They most certainly are not mine.’

      ‘Oh … thank God for that.’

      Lady Dorothy was still glaring at her. Bella tried a tentative smile.

      ‘I shouldn’t say that because it’s no joke that my grandfather murdered my grandmother, but you know what?’

      Lady Dorothy continued to stare but her eyebrows were moving slowly. In an upward direction. ‘What?’ The query was understandably wary.

      Bella lowered her voice to a confidential tone. ‘If she’d been wearing pink track pants like this it could well have been a motive.’ Her lips twitched. ‘If I’d been on the jury and these were exhibit A then I’d certainly consider them to be an exonerating factor.’

      Finally, there was a response from the elderly lady. A lip twitch that mirrored Bella’s. She unceremoniously rolled up the offending pants and put them back on the chair.

      ‘So, if they’re not yours, what are they doing in here? Shall I get rid of them for you?’

      ‘Best not, dear.’

      ‘How come?’

      Lady Dorothy’s sigh was weary. ‘The occupational therapist brought them. I’m supposed to wear them because I’ll be able to put them on by myself.’

      ‘What? Is she trying to drive you to drink or something? What’s wrong with the kind of pants you usually wear? Oh …’ Bella grimaced. ‘Sorry, I’m putting my foot in it again. You probably don’t wear trousers at all. I’d imagine you wearing beautiful skirts and jackets or elegant dresses.’

      ‘I do wear trousers. I was wearing my favourite pair when I came in here. They’re hanging in the wardrobe.’

      Bella opened the small closet. A pair of crisply pressed, pale grey linen pants could be seen. She lifted out the hanger and eyed the garment. ‘You know, I’m no expert but the only problem I can see with these is the zip and buttons and that could be easily fixed with an invisible strip of Velcro.’

      Lady Dorothy was watching her closely now. ‘What about pulling them up?’

      ‘You could use one of those stick gripper things. Has the occupational therapist shown you all the aids you can get now?’

      ‘She showed me a lot of things.’ Lady Dorothy’s tone suggested she hadn’t been impressed.

      ‘Anyway,’ Bella added cautiously, ‘you’ll probably get a lot of movement back when the inflammation goes down. As long as you’re not as silly as my nanna was, that is.’

      Lady Dorothy blinked. ‘What’s your nanna got to do with this? I thought you said she got murdered.’

      ‘That was Grandma. On my dad’s side and I never knew her. She was the skeleton in my family closet. Nanna was Mum’s mother and she lived with us for a while when she couldn’t manage any more. I loved her to bits.’

      ‘You said she was silly.’

      Bella nodded, happy to finally have the old lady’s full attention. She wasn’t even looking sad any more. ‘She had a high horse. We used to tease her about getting on it so often.’

      ‘I don’t understand.’

      ‘She was very critical of people she didn’t like—especially doctors. She didn’t believe in drugs of any kind. When she was diagnosed with her rheumatoid arthritis her GP told her to get off her high horse for once and do as she was told because if she didn’t take the painkillers and anti-inflammatories and do her exercises, she’d end up totally crippled by the disease.’

      ‘And did she?’

      ‘No. She went home and flushed all the pills down the loo and, of course, she couldn’t keep moving because her joints were all too swollen and sore and she did end up crippled and had to come and live with us.’ Bella sighed. ‘I wish she’d been put somewhere like here when she got sick. She would have loved my line-dancing classes. That would have got her moving.’

      There was a sparkle in Lady Dorothy’s eyes now. A look of real interest. Determination, even? ‘What on earth is line dancing?’

      Bella’s grin was mischievous. ‘I’ll come and get you tomorrow and you can find out.’

      ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘I wouldn’t be dressed for it.’

      It was Bella’s turn to raise her eyebrows significantly. ‘But you’ve got your clothes right there in the wardrobe. I’m not asking you to wear shocking pink trackie daks. In fact,’ she put on a stern face. ‘I’m quite sure they not allowed for line dancing.’

      ‘But …’

      Bella could see a fear she could understand in this beautiful woman’s face. The fear of loss of dignity. Of losing herself in her disease. Without thinking, she went and perched her hip on the side of the bed and took one of Lady Dorothy’s hands in her own.

      ‘I do understand,’ she said softly. ‘I had to help my nanna with things