Free The Paradise Trees by Linda Huber Page B

round the dayroom where some old people were watching cricket on TV. It was clean and bright, it didn’t smell too antiseptic
and there was no school-dinner cabbage smell either. The nurses looked cheerful, and it
was
NHS. So maybe something, at last, was going to work out well for her this summer. There was
nothing here that Margaret could possibly object to.
    ‘Isn’t that Mr French?’ she asked, looking at a shrunken old man sitting at the end of the corridor picking a hole in his cardigan.
    ‘Yes, do you know him?’
    Alicia smiled rather sadly. Harry French had been caretaker of her secondary school. He could always be depended on to retrieve tennis balls from the roof and he’d kept an eye on the
playground games too, in case the footie got too rough. It was sad seeing him here like this, no longer his old vital self.
    Doug chuckled. ‘He doesn’t look it, but he’s a bit of a tearaway. His grandsons bring him cans of lager and officially he’s allowed one a day. The problem is he has an
illicit stash that we’re not supposed to know about. Keeps him happy and we try to make sure that he doesn’t have more than two a day. We don’t always succeed. And the old chap
over there’s just as bad. Jim Slater. He’s forever getting the ladies fighting over something or other. Real characters, both of them.’
    Alicia laughed. Jim Slater had been the butcher in Lower Banford, he’d been a real ladies’ man in those days too. Her father had disapproved, of course, and poor Mum always had to
bike to Middle Banford for meat. It was nice in a way to know that the old people were still able to do their own thing here at St. Joe’s.
    Doug took her arm, and her heart rate doubled immediately.
    ‘Come and meet Derek Thorpe, he’s the charge nurse in this ward. Derek!’
    Derek Thorpe was emerging from a side room further up the ward. He came over, hand outstretched much as Doug’s had been and Alicia wondered in amusement if it was some kind of hospital
policy.
    ‘Sorry, my hands are like lumps of ice,’ said Derek, grinning ruefully. ‘I’ve been rearranging the meds freezer, but don’t worry, I’ll heat them up before I
touch any of the patients. Frank Carter told me about your father the other day. Must be really difficult for you.’ He gave her hand a cold squeeze with both of his, his face serious now.
    ‘Well, it is a bit,’ said Alicia, surprised. A lot of people had commiserated about her situation but somehow Derek’s sympathy seemed more personal. She hadn’t said a
word to Frank about how much she was hating being here but Derek had obviously seen something of her unhappiness. His next words confirmed this.
    ‘It’s hell, isn’t it, the whole dependent parent needing care thing,’ he said, lowering his voice as two of the patients walked past, zimmer frames clicking on the
polished floor. ‘Your father’s place isn’t too far from my flat, so if you ever needed help just give me a call. What do you think of St. Joe’s so far?’
    Alicia chatted for a few more minutes before Derek was called away. He grinned cheerfully as he said goodbye and Alicia smiled back. What a happy, down-to-earth personality he had, and he was
kind, too. He didn’t ignore the problems, and that was exactly what was needed in a geriatric hospital.
    ‘Derek’s one of the best nurses I’ve ever met,’ said Doug, steering her back to the ward doors. ‘He’s a real charmer, too, the old folks all love
him.’
    ‘I can imagine,’ said Alicia. Gales of aged laughter were coming from the room Derek had just entered.
    ‘Would you like to have a coffee and a chat in my office?’ said Doug, sounding hopeful.
    Alicia glanced at her watch. ‘I would, but I’d better not. Mrs Campbell from next door is sitting with my father, so I can’t be away too long. Thanks very much, Doug.
It’s been a really helpful visit.’
    He smiled at her, his brown eyes shining. ‘My pleasure. And let me know if you