Our Country Nurse: Can East End Nurse Sarah find a new life caring for babies in the country?. Sarah Beeson
I stared at her blankly then blurted out, ‘I dropped Mrs Bunyard’s keys down the drain.’
‘Oh dear. What are you going to do about that?’
‘Look for another job?’
‘No.’
‘Eat humble pie.’
‘A bit bitter for my taste, Miss Hill.’
‘What then?’
‘Do you think they’re the only keys? I’m sure Mrs Farthing could get you a new pair cut if you ask her nicely.’
‘Miss Drummond, you’re a genius.’ Now, I had to figure out how I was going to turn around the clinic so I wasn’t relegated to the back room – but I had a week to come up with a plan.
‘Anything to put a smile back on that forlorn-looking face. But you’re still frowning?’
‘I met Mrs Jefferies,’ I mumbled.
‘Ah,’ sympathised Miss Drummond. ‘I wouldn’t take it to heart. She’s never liked Totley. She was the health visitor here many moons ago. Unfortunate to be the school nurse with a name like Nora. She took offence her very first week so quickly found a role visiting the gentry in Malling and of course she’s completely enamoured of the doctors there – much more well-to-do. She’s very stuck in her ways. Whatever she says, remember, she always needs a saucer of cream afterwards.’
I laughed with relief. It wasn’t just me. Mrs Jefferies was clearly a complete cat to everyone as Miss Drummond had cleverly pointed out.
Miss Drummond shrugged off a long crimson shawl she’d been wearing and opened up a cupboard and took out a bottle of sherry and two glasses.
‘Mrs King keeps a bottle of sherry to spice up her soup at lunchtime but the sun is over the yardarm, so let’s call it a day and have a drink,’ she said, pouring each of us a glass. ‘It’s a beautiful September evening. Why don’t we have them in your little garden?’ she suggested. ‘If that’s not too presumptuous of me?’
‘No, no, I think that’s a lovely idea,’ I said, quickly gathering up my things and rising to my feet.
Miss Drummond followed me round to the back of the clinic and through the back gate into my long garden. Over the fence Clem and Flo were hard at work. Flo was picking ripe tomatoes and Clem was in his element in his white beekeeper’s suit.
‘A very devoted couple,’ remarked Miss Drummond.
‘They’ve been very kind,’ I added.
Miss Drummond caught Clem’s eye and he edged away from the hives, lifting the net off his hood.
‘Evening, ladies,’ he called. ‘I’m harvesting my honey.’
‘Best honey in the whole county,’ praised Miss Drummond.
‘I don’t know about that,’ mumbled Clem, glowing with pleasure. ‘But I’ll make sure I keep at least half a dozen jars for each of you when I’ve finished heeving.’
‘You’re too kind, Clem.’
‘Getting ready for winter, Clem?’ I asked.
‘I am, Nurse. Got to make sure there’s at least 60 pounds of sugar to keep the bees going or the queen won’t have it.’
‘Giving them plenty of syrup too?’ I asked.
Clem raised his eyes in surprise. ‘I am, Nurse, as it goes.’
I smiled. ‘My father comes from a long line of beekeepers,’ I explained.
‘And does he have his own heeves?’
‘He does. My parents are living in the town now, but he still keeps a hive or two at the bottom of their garden and more with a farmer nearby.’
‘Maybe we could set you up with a little heeve of your own,’ he suggested.
‘I don’t think I’m ready for that. But I’d gladly help you,’ I offered.
‘Clement, let the ladies alone,’ Flo called across the garden. ‘They’ve had a hard day, they don’t want to listen to you droning on about your bees all evening. It’s bad enough I have to listen to it.’
‘Ah, Mrs Farthing, just the woman we need,’ coaxed Miss Drummond. ‘Miss Hill is in need of a fresh set of keys for the clinic including the store cupboards – do you think you could get some cut for her?’
‘No trouble at all, Miss Drummond. I’ll get onto it first thing tomorrow.’
‘You’re a treasure, Mrs Farthing.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I gushed. To think only an hour before I’d felt like jumping in my Mini and fleeing Totley for ever.
Clem smiled and returned to his frames, Flo to her tomatoes, and Miss Drummond and I dusted off the little table and chairs by my back door and settled down with our sherry.
‘So, you’re a country girl?’ remarked Miss Drummond.
I nodded. ‘Did you grow up in Kent?’
‘Lord, no. Edinburgh. We’ve been here for the last 10 years ever since I came back from New York.’
‘I see,’ I answered, but I didn’t at all.
‘How are you finding the flat?’
‘It’s lovely. I’ve got everything I need.’
‘Well, that’s a blessing.’
‘Do you live in the village, Miss Drummond?’
‘Please call me Hermione off-duty, and may I call you Sarah?’ I nodded and she smiled. ‘We have a little cottage down by the river on Mill Lane.’
‘Oh, how lovely.’
‘It suits us – you must come and see us sometime?’ said Hermione, as she sat back, closed her eyes and bathed in evening sunlight. ‘You know the previous occupant of Ivy Cottage was the old district nurse? She left us only two months ago.’
‘Flo mentioned it. She said the new district nurse had opted to live in Maidstone and turned down the flat.’
‘Yes, Miss Bates. Pretty girl. Full of gusto. I’m sure you’ll get on. Did Flo happen to mention where the old district nurse moved to?’
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘Hove.’
‘Near Brighton?’
‘Yes,’ she paused and opened one eye momentarily for dramatic effect, ‘with Mr Jefferies.’
My eyes widened. ‘I’d assumed she’d retired. You mean the husband of …?’ My words trailed off.
‘Indeed, you can see why our colleague is feeling anti-sex appeal?’
I nodded. I felt quite sorry for Mrs Jefferies. No wonder she’d rolled her eyes at my hemlines. I wondered if they’d been carrying on in my flat.
‘Another reason for her to loathe Totley,’ explained Hermione, opening her eyes momentarily. ‘Apparently, he used to come over Monday, Wednesday, Friday …’
‘… and Mrs Jefferies works at the clinic on Tuesdays and Thursdays,’ I finished.
She nodded. ‘Rumour has it, that it all started at last year’s staff Christmas party, and in a small village Mr Jefferies regularly stopping by the clinic, or Ivy Cottage more likely, was bound to be noticed.’ Hermione took a long sip of her sherry as I waited to hear more. ‘I remember them running away together well because Billie Jean King was thrashing Evonne what’s-her-name in the Wimbledon final and they scarpered while everyone was engrossed in the match. Proved to be a bit of an anti-climax really.’
‘The