Free When You Walked Back Into My Life by Hilary Boyd Page B

it very clear. ‘I am coming all week, every week. That’s not changing. I was only asking you if you wanted another nurse for Saturday and Sunday when I’m not here.’
    Dorothea nodded and seemed to relax. ‘I’m so sorry … I wasn’t quite sure …’
    *
    Flora was getting Dorothea’s supper, beating the eggs in a plastic bowl, when the doorbell rang. It was Dr Kent.
    ‘Hi, Flora. Bad time?’
    Flora shook her head. ‘No, come in. I was just getting her supper.’ The sound of canned laughter blared from the television in the sitting room. ‘
Dad’s Army
. Her favourite,’ she explained with a long-suffering grin.
    ‘Could be worse, could be
Nightmare on Elm Street
. I was just passing and I hadn’t seen you … well, Dorothea, for a few days. How is she?’
    ‘Do you want a cup of tea? I’d like to tell you something.’
    ‘Such a difficult thing to call,’ Simon Kent said, when she’d finished explaining. He was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, cradling his cup, as Flora got on with setting Dorothea’s tray. ‘From what you say, she does seem to be getting more confused since the last TIA, and perhaps the Sunday night thing is just coincidence. Someone ought to talk to Pia in any case. Find out what she has to say about what Dorothea’s like in the daytime.’
    ‘Rene’s doing that, but according to the report, she’s fine. It says they do things together, like go to church and to the park, but when you ask Dorothea, she says they didn’t.’
    ‘Ill-treatment of the elderly is rampant,’ he said, ‘and it’s notoriously difficult to prove, unless they speak out.’ He watched her as she melted butter in the small pan and dropped the eggs in for scrambling.
    ‘I’m glad you don’t put milk in. Ruins it,’ he commented.
    She smiled. ‘Mum used to put loads in, and it dribbled out of the egg all over the plate.’
    ‘Don’t complain. You’re lucky your mother made scrambled eggs at all. I don’t think mine even knew where the kitchen was.’
    Flora was surprised. ‘You had servants?’
    ‘Nooo, me and my brother just looked after ourselves most of the time. She had … hard to put this delicately … a drink problem.’
    ‘And your father?’
    ‘He couldn’t handle it. He left, came back, left again. He did his best for a while, but then he met someone else and moved away. You know how it is.’
    Flora took some sliced brown bread from the plastic packet and spread butter on it, then cut it up into quarters and laid them round the edge of the plate before spooning the egg into the middle.
    ‘Your brother’s older?’ she asked.
    ‘Younger. He’s a research scientist at Cambridge – DNA stuff.’ She could hear the pride in his voice.
    ‘God, must have been such a responsibility for you.’
    The doctor gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘Could say that.’ He put his empty mug in the sink and ran some water into it. ‘It was my daughter’s fourth birthday at the weekend, and I suppose it made me think about the whole fathering thing. Nothing, literally nothing on this planet, would make me lose touch with Jasmine.’
    Flora put the plate on the floral-patterned plastic tray and added a glass of water. She waited for a moment, not sure what to say.
    ‘Sorry, don’t know why I’m laying my dismal past at your door,’ he went on as he moved aside to let her through, the expression in his eyes suddenly miles away.
    ‘Don’t apologise. It’s good to find out something about you. I feel we’ve known each other for years without knowing anything at all.’
    ‘I haven’t found out anything about you though, except your mum put too much milk in the scrambled eggs – and you can’t dance.’
    Flora grinned. ‘No, well, you might want to keep it that way.’
    He shook his head.
    ‘Anyway, about Dorothea. Do you want me to talk to her?’
    Flora considered this. ‘Thanks, but leave it for now. Both Mary and I have been on at her and she’s just clammed up. I