Page 30 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

She twisted the cap from a bottle of water, took a sip and then squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to collect herself. She wasn’t used to this. Things had always run far more efficiently at the hospital in Manchester where she’d worked before. Well, perhaps efficient wasn’t the word for it – at times it could be as chaotic as anywhere else – but at least there were systems in place that everyone tried to stick to. And at least she wasn’t constantly being compared to the nurse who’d been on shift the day before her. She supposed, as she opened her eyes and stared out at the honeysuckle growing around her office window, it was one more thing about Thimblebury she’d have to get used to.

Her laptop pinged a notification, and she flicked screens to see that her next patient had arrived in the clinic, having been checked in by Lavender on reception.

Here we go again…

A quick stride down the short corridor that led from her treatment room-slash-office brought her to the reception area. Sticking her head around the door, she called out, ‘Mrs Icke…’

There was no answer. There were three women in reception, so she looked at them and called out again. One of them had to be Mrs Icke. Then one of the ladies nudged another, who was engrossed in a gardening magazine.

‘She’s a bit deaf,’ she said to Ottilie. ‘You have to come and get her usually because she won’t hear you call.’

‘Oh…’

Mrs Icke looked up, saw Ottilie waiting, and then pushed herself painstakingly from her seat. She gave Ottilie a very obvious once-over. ‘I didn’t think you’d be so young.’

Ottilie smiled. ‘I wish. I can assure you, I’m older than you think.’

‘What?’

‘I said I’m not young.’

‘All right! No need to shout! Why didn’t you come and get me?’ Mrs Icke began to totter after Ottilie, who held open the door for her. ‘Gwen always came to get me. I could have been sitting there all day!’

‘I’m sorry – I didn’t know. I’ll remember next time.’

‘Speak up! Don’t mumble! Gwen didn’t mumble…honestly, youngsters today…’

‘I wish I was a youngster,’ Ottilie replied as she led the way. ‘I’m thirty-five. Hardly a youngster, though I appreciate the compliment.’

‘You’re still mumbling!’

‘Never mind – it wasn’t important anyway. I’ll be sure to come and get you next time.’

‘That’s what Gwen always did.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘There’s no point in leaving me sat there all day.’

In the treatment room, Ottilie gestured for Mrs Icke to take a seat.

‘How have you been?’ she asked as she logged into the patient records.

‘Surely you know that,’ Mrs Icke said, looking surprised and faintly disapproving.

‘It was a polite—Never mind.’ Ottilie held in yet another sigh of resignation, mixed with some mounting frustration. ‘Blood pressure check is it?’

‘Don’t you know that either?’

Don’t you know what a rhetorical question is?

Ottilie looked for her equipment. ‘Come on then – left arm. Let’s have a look at you.’

Mrs Icke slapped her arm onto the desk, sleeve already rolled up. At least this appointment would be quick, Ottilie thought as she folded the cuff around it.

‘It’s a bit high,’ Ottilie said as she watched the numbers.

‘No it’s not.’

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