Page 29 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

Heath kissed her once again and then nodded shortly at Ottilie before striding out. A moment later the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed around Florence’s tiny house.

Well, that wasn’t weird at all.

CHAPTER NINE

If Ottilie imagined that her dealings with Florence and Corrine were going to be indicative of her dealings with all her patients in Thimblebury, she was to be disappointed. As much as those two ladies had welcomed her care and expertise, some of the other village residents were less than enthusiastic about their new nurse. She wondered, as she battled mistrust and doubt from every appointment, if her first day on the job had, perhaps, been an unfortunate fluke, a clinic filled with patients who wished she was Gwen, their previous nurse. But her second day on the job had so far brought more of the same and she began to wonder if she was ever going to win these people over. It didn’t matter what she did or what she said, at the end of the day she wasn’t Gwen.

‘You’re not going to put extra tape on?’ Mr Hodgkins, her three fifteen, stared down at the wound Ottilie had just cleaned and re-dressed. ‘Gwen always puts extra tape on.’

‘I promise, it will be secure as it is,’ Ottilie said with all the patience she had left – which wasn’t much after two days of hearing about how much better Gwen was at everything. Gwen was faster, Gwen took her time, Gwen explained everything better, Gwen didn’t insult their intelligence by explaining too much, Gwen always went to fetch them from reception rather than calling for them at the doorway, Gwen always checked with Dr Cheadle, Gwen never needed to check with Dr Cheadle, Gwen was gentler, Gwen tied her bandages tight enough, Gwen didn’t tie them so tight they cut off the patient’s circulation, Gwen knew what was wrong with them as soon as they walked into the room and didn’t need to ask endless questions.

Of course, Gwen had also been their nurse for over forty years; she was bound to know each of them and their medical needs intimately. Gwen was bloody perfect – it was a wonder she hadn’t been declared a saint and a statue of her erected in the village square. Ottilie had no personal grudge, but she was only human, and she was getting sick of being told how much better her predecessor was. She felt like pointing out that Gwen had abandoned them by selfishly and unhelpfully retiring and that, like it or not, they were stuck with Ottilie, and if they didn’t like it, they were welcome to leave Thimblebury for a town where the nurse was more like Gwen.

She didn’t, of course. She only smiled and explained that she was sure Gwen’s way was great, and that she’d bear their comments in mind, but that she also had her own ways of doing things and she was sure they were just as effective, and that everyone would get used to the change in time.

In fairness to Gwen, she did sound like she’d been a great nurse and Ottilie could understand why everyone had become so attached to her. There were people who’d been cared for by Gwen their whole lives, who now had kids of their own who’d also been cared for by Gwen. There were many villagers who’d never known any other nurse, and for the rest, the previous one was so far back in the memory she might as well have never existed. Ottilie wasn’t so green not to realise that patients always felt safer in hands they knew well and trusted with anything. One day, perhaps, they’d trust Ottilie like that too. But that day seemed a long way off.

‘And if there’s a problem,’ she continued, ‘I’m only at the end of a phone. I can see you and fix it in a jiffy.’

‘Because Gwen said that it was very important not to let anything get in there.’

‘Nothing will get in there – it’s very well covered.’

‘But I can see a gap…’ Mr Hodgkins frowned at Ottilie’s handiwork and began to pull at the bandage. ‘See? There!’

There wasn’t a gap until you started messing…

With a sigh, Ottilie tore off another strip of surgical tape and tightened up the dressing.

‘Better?’ she asked, looking up.

With an expression that was far from convinced, he gave a sullen nod. ‘I suppose it will probably hold.’

‘Good. So I’ll see you next week. Shall I book you in for Tuesday again?’

‘God willing I’m still here next Tuesday.’

‘Why, where are you going?’

‘Well, I’m old, aren’t I? At my age you never know.’

What was it about this village that everyone seemed to be obsessed with their expected imminent demise?

‘Let’s book you in on the off-chance you do survive another week, eh?’ she said cheerfully as she pulled up her diary page on her laptop.

Before she’d given him a time, he began to leave the room.

‘Wait, I haven’t—’ Ottilie jumped up to stop him. ‘I haven’t given you an appointment card.’

‘I don’t need one.’

‘But I haven’t given you the appointment!’

‘Gwen gave me the same time every week.’

Ottilie held back another sigh. ‘Hang on…let me change this…’

She went back to her laptop to find the identical slot a week on, but Mr Hodgkins didn’t wait to find out whether it was still available. He hobbled out, letting the door slam behind him. Ottilie considered running after him for a moment, and then decided she’d simply have to see him when he turned up. That had the potential to mess up the schedule, because she realised very quickly that she’d already given his slot away, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. More to the point, she didn’t see what she’d gain by trying to make him aware that she needed him to take a different slot, because he’d only grumble about how Gwen would never make him do that and probably turn up for his usual anyway.

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