I nodded. I had been a nurse for nearly twenty years and reached the level of band six specialist ward nurse.
‘Yes. And I probably would have continued in hospital work, but my husband fell ill.’ I sipped my tea slowly before continuing. It hadn’t been necessary to divulge all this at the interview, but I felt instinctively that I could trust Angela with the story of my past. ‘It was a short illness, and I looked after him until… the end.’ Angela gave me such a sweet and sympathetic smile that I had the courage to continue. ‘That’s when I retrained as a companionship care nurse, and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since, living with patients in their homes to provide treatment and support.’
I didn’t add that a large part of the reason I did this was because I couldn’t bear to live in the house that Paulo and I had bought together. That was rented out, and if I had time in between jobs, I either gritted my teeth and went back briefly to my childhood home to stay with my mother, father and sister, or took a trip away.
‘It sounds as though you’ve had a difficult time,’ said Angela, pushing the plate of shortbread towards me again. ‘But the agency said we were very lucky to have the opportunity to employ you, with your excellent reputation and willingness to work over Christmas. Don’t your parents want to see you?’
‘They live in Somerset as well, so I can visit them on my days off,’ I said, hoping that this noncommittal response wouldnot invite any more questions on the subject of my family. ‘I think the agency passed on my request for the Saturday before Christmas specifically, as that’s when my sister is getting married.’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Angela, beaming. ‘How nice, a winter wedding! You said you were going to be a bridesmaid?’
‘Yes,’ I replied shortly, then rushed on before the wedding talk set in. ‘Is Marilise happy to have a nurse come to work with her?’
‘She is,’ said Angela, smiling fondly. ‘She’s a lovely person, very gracious. She’s bona fide royalty, you know; we all call her Marilise and she wouldn’t hear of anything else, but her full name is Princess Marie-Elise Colombo della Rovere. The royal family was abolished between the wars and she came to London with her parents, then met her husband when she was a deb in the fifties. He was the one whose family owned the London house and all this.’ She waved her hand around. ‘But he never got over the fact that although he had the money, it was all from trade – dog food, it was – whereas it was she who had the real pedigree.’
This was a world known to me only by the occasional flick through a society magazine at a patient’s house, and it did sound intriguing.
‘She must have some fab stories.’
‘She does, but not many people to share them with these days, so if you’re willing to listen, she’ll be only too glad to tell. Her son, Nick’s father, died about seventeen years ago and the dowager widow, Astrid, who was his second wife, not Nick’s mother, has all her time taken up with India, the garden and her fiancé, Philip, who lives in Texas.’
I laughed.
‘My head’s spinning already! It sounds very complicated.’
Angela nodded.
‘It always is with these families,’ she said sagely. ‘But you don’t need to worry about any of that; you’ll pick it up as you go along.’
‘I hope so,’ I replied. ‘And Marilise was happy to employ me without meeting me first?’
‘She trusts my judgement,’ said Angela, picking up the plate of treats and giving me little choice but to take yet another. ‘And you’ll fit in perfectly at Lyonscroft. We’re very lucky to have found you.’
I smiled. Despite the dog, the bush, Nick’s grumpiness and the Addams family joke, I felt just the same.
‘Oh, look at the time!’ exclaimed Angela. ‘Marilise should be waking up around now – shall we go upstairs?’
Glad to be getting started on the real reason I had come to Lyonscroft, I rose quickly and followed her out of the room, eager to find out what my princess patient would be like.
THREE
We walked briskly down the passageway towards the pretty entrance hall and up the stairs.
‘Should I take my shoes off?’ I asked, almost afraid to step on the pristine cream carpet.
‘Goodness, no,’ said Angela. ‘I give this carpet a good clean every day and even that dog hasn’t yet managed to leave a stain I couldn’t tackle.’ She paused, her hand on the banister, and lowered her voice slightly. ‘Between you and me, I’d prefer shoes off, but Nick can’t bear it – reminds him of his father who was a man who liked to tell other people what to do. As long as you’re comfortable, wear whatever you like on your feet.’
I nodded.
‘Thanks. I usually wear soft plimsolls when I’m working, and they stay pretty clean, but I adapt to whatever the house rules are.’
At the top of the stairs, she turned right, and I followed her past two or three closed doors then down a couple of steps, where the passage opened out and became a small, light-filled landing. She knocked gently on one of the doors and opened it slowly, without waiting for an answer.
‘Are you awake, my dear?’ I heard her ask, then, apparently receiving an answer in the affirmative, she pushed the door open further and said, ‘I’ve brought your new nurse-companion to meet you.’
She turned and beckoned to me, and I followed her into a large bedroom, very different from most of the spaces I was used to working in. The cream carpet flowed into the room, interrupted only by an exquisite pink and green rug that lay at the foot of the bed, with a sofa upholstered in similar hues standing on it. All the other furniture was white and very elaborate, with lots of curls and scrolls, leaves and flowers carved into it. It wasn’t a style I would ever have chosen but at this scale, and in the setting, it looked fabulous. Over the top, yes, but so fresh and feminine I would have defied anyone not to be delighted by it. The wallpaper was the same cream as the carpet, with a delicate pattern of widely spaced pink and green stripes, and the floor-length curtains, in the same chintzy fabric as the sofa, were held back from tall windows by thick, pale green, tasselled ties. I took all this in quickly as Angela approached the tiny figure sitting upright in the bed, an embroidered unrumpled white silk coverlet over her legs and two fat pillows behind her back. She put down the book she had been reading, removed her glasses and smiled at me.
‘Welcome to Lyonscroft, Nurse Wilde,’ she said, her slightly accented voice clear, if a little fragile, with a slight accent. ‘I am so very pleased to meet you.’
