Chapter 11 #2
‘Absolutely,’ I said, and watched closely as he slipped the needle in.
Twenty minutes later, he left, with instructions to call immediately if we were worried. A steady stream of visitors then ensued, and everyone had to be reassured that Steve would make a full recovery.
‘It would be terrible if Steve died,’ Astrid confided to me when we were out of the room for a while. ‘We all love him, but he’s so terribly important to Nick.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ I assured her. ‘He’s a big dog and the vet said that acorn poisoning isn’t usually too serious at this time of year, because there aren’t many left. You’ll need to keep an eye on him next autumn, though.’
Astrid looked glum.
‘Next autumn I’ll be in Texas.’
I squeezed her hand.
‘One day at a time, eh?’
By eleven o’clock, the rest of the household had gone to bed, and it was Nick, Steve and me left in the warm kitchen.
Greg had found a camp bed, which Angela had fitted out with a sheet, pillow and duvet so that Nick and I could take turns sleeping.
Steve would need his next lot of fluids at about one in the morning, so I took the first sleep.
I thought it would be impossible to fall asleep lying on a camp bed in the kitchen with Nick sitting a couple of feet away, but, to my surprise, I dropped off quickly and was all too soon being awakened by a gentle hand on my shoulder and Nick’s voice saying my name.
‘Laura, I’m sorry, but it’s time to wake up.’
I’m used to having to get up throughout the night to attend to patients and sat up, alert to my surroundings.
‘How’s Steve doing?’ I asked quietly.
‘Really well, I think,’ said Nick. ‘He seems pretty chilled. He’s woken up a couple of times and tried to get up.’
‘He might need a wee,’ I said. ‘I think we should help him outside before I do the next lot of fluids.’
Nick woke Steve as softly as he had woken me, and the big dog did indeed start to get to his feet. We helped him to the door and out into the freezing garden.
‘This can’t have been what you were expecting,’ said Nick between chattering teeth.
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But a nurse’s life is always one of surprises; it’s one of the reasons I love the job – no two days are the same.
I had a patient once with a pet lizard, which was hardly ever in its cage.
It sat with him a lot of the time, but it liked to watch me in the kitchen.
I got used to it after a while, but I can’t pretend I missed it when the job finished. ’
Nick chuckled. Steve was ready to go in now, and staggered back to the Aga on wobbly legs, where he lay down again.
‘There you go, boy,’ I said, patting his head. I got a feeble tail wag in return. ‘Now, I’m going to give you a little injection – it won’t hurt, and you’ll carry on feeling better.’
I inserted the needle and sat down on the floor with the bag.
‘This won’t take long,’ I said to Nick. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep?’
‘I don’t feel tired in the least,’ he said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I’d love one,’ I said. ‘Something without caffeine, though, please.’
A few minutes later, Steve’s fluids were nearly done, and Nick and I were both sipping from steaming mugs.
‘I’m sorry about your husband,’ he suddenly said. ‘You’re so young to be…’
I was used to people trailing off when they talked about this.
‘Widowed,’ I supplied. ‘Yes. And thank you. He had a bacterial infection that got complicated, so it was very unexpected. I was looking after him at home and then he took a turn for the worse. By the time we got him into hospital, there wasn’t much anyone could do.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Nick repeated. ‘It must have been tough nursing him.’
I put down my mug and removed the needle from Steve’s back, then started packing away the bits and pieces, glad of something to keep my hands busy.
‘It was,’ I replied. ‘Very. I was glad to be with him, but when my help wasn’t enough, well…’
Now, it was my turn to trail off. I had probably said enough, anyway. The warm kitchen in the early hours of the morning with the three of us there was a safe little bubble, and it would have been easy to pour my heart out. Instead, I changed the subject.
‘When are Astrid and India leaving for Texas?’
‘In the new year. You said – you said that you didn’t think she wants to move.’
I looked at him sheepishly.
‘I’m sorry, it wasn’t up to me to say that.’
‘No, I’m glad you did. I’ve been so focused on my own feelings about them leaving…
I know Marilise won’t be here forever’ – his voice cracked, then he took a deep breath to continue – ‘and now Sofia’s here and she’s so sweet, but she’ll go back to Victoria.
Steve is my only constant, but earlier today – well, yesterday, I suppose – I thought I was going to lose him as well. ’
‘Everybody leaves.’
He looked up, his eyes hollow.
‘Exactly.’
‘And you’re trying to get a handle on that by being the one who leaves first, as if that will stop it hurting. Aren’t you punishing them, and shortening even further the time you have together?’
‘But they’re leaving me!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m making it easier. I don’t want to hang around being a nuisance to people. I had enough of that with my father. That was always the easiest way to get his approval: stay away as much as possible.’
His voice was bitter, and I couldn’t blame him.
‘But the family is here at Lyonscroft now,’ I said. ‘They love you. That supersedes however much of a nuisance you are.’
‘My father certainly didn’t,’ he said. ‘He didn’t want me at all, other than to inherit.
He just had to get me to eighteen, and it was easier to outsource that to schools and nannies.
’ He spoke in a casual, almost offhand way, but the whiteness of his knuckles as his fingers tensed into a fist betrayed his hurt.
‘I suppose it might have been better if my mother hadn’t died; maybe she loved me, but I don’t know. ’
Another one who left him, I thought, but I didn’t speak, and neither did he, for a moment. When he did, the detachment had drained from his voice.
‘I know,’ he said fiercely. ‘I know I’m being childish and that I’m lashing out before they can hurt me, but it’s useless, isn’t it?
I mean, the hurt’s still there.’ The fist sprang open and he slapped his hand down, making me jump.
His voice softened. ‘How does one cope? How did you cope when your husband died?’
I laughed drily.
‘I’m not sure you should be learning lessons from me.’
‘What do you mean? You seem so… together.’
‘I’m not,’ I said, looking up at him, finally.
His face had lost all trace of its customary humour, or of the pain that had twisted it just now, and instead taken on a sincerity that was hard to resist. For the first time in three years, I wanted to pour my heart out.
Maybe it was meeting another person who struggled with risking their heart, who was wounded by loss, who had shown me their vulnerability.
‘I’m not. Together, that is. I’ve not been so very different from you.
Since Paulo died, I’ve spent my time moving from house to house, always working and living in the short term.
I’ve slapped down a boundary that says no one gets close, gets in, and I’ve covered it all with an unarguably noble veneer of helping others. ’
‘What about your family?’
‘My family means well,’ I said. ‘But they’re not very… sensitive.’
‘So, you avoid them?’ I shrugged. ‘You’re punishing them, even though they love you?’
‘Ha, not sure that depriving them of my company is exactly a punishment,’ I said.
Nick folded his arms and stared at me, then grinned.
‘So, we have plenty in common, then,’ he said.
‘Hmm, very clever,’ I said, not willing to admit that he was right. ‘Now, isn’t it time you got some sleep? Steve will be fighting fit in the morning and you’re going to need all your energy to keep up with him.’
He took the bed, and I made another mug of herbal tea and settled down near Steve with my book, but my mind kept wandering from the story and over to the sleeping man, who was beginning to intrigue me.