now, let’s have a look, shall we?’
She peeled down the stocking and eased off the dressing, then washed her hands and opened the saline pack. After she had carefully cleaned the ulcer, she sat back on her heels and studied it.
Yes, it was definitely better. The necrotic edges had been debrided by the action of the paste, and the wound was considerably cleaner than before.
Oh, it looks quite red!’ Mrs Robinson said warily, peering at the ulcer.
‘That’s because all the dead tissue has been absorbed by the paste and it’s cleaned the skin up. It should heal much better now.’
She carefully dried the skin around the edges of the wound, filled the deeper pits with paste and firmly smoothed a new dressing over the top.
‘There, that should do you until the middle of next week, I think. Keep an eye on it, though, and come back sooner if you’re worried or it’s uncomfy. OK?’
Mrs Robinson nodded, fastened her suspenders and got unsteadily to her feet,
‘Thank you, dear, that feels lovely,’ she said, and headed out of the door.
Good grief, Beth thought, I got away without a grilling on my relationship with Gideon!
She followed Mrs Robinson down the hall and was just about to open the waiting-room door when the woman craned her neck and looked up at her.
‘I gather you’ve taken Kay Archer’s job.’
Beth frowned in puzzlement. She thought the nurse had been called Stephanie.
‘At Dr Pendragon’s house,’ Mrs Robinson continued. ‘Mind you don’t work too hard, my dear—that’s a great big place to keep, and those children aren’t the easiest, for all they’re such lovely mites.’
The thought of Will being described as a lovely mite made Beth want to laugh. However, she concentrated on answering Mrs Robinson sensibly.
‘Don’t you worry about me—it’s a pleasure working there. I love the house, and the children are fun.’
Mrs Robinson eyed her thoughtfully, and Beth had a horrible sinking feeling that the old lady was a lot more astute than she appeared.
She gave a non-committal grunt, and Beth opened the door and watched her go. Would it be all round the little town by lunchtime that Beth Turner was in love with Gideon Pendragon?
The thought hit her with a jolt.
In love? Where had that come from?
Surely not…
The Stop Smoking clinic that evening was the first time she had seen Gideon since after supper on Friday. As she prepared the waiting-room she wondered how she would manage to face him in the light of her new discovery.
Did it show in her eyes? She checked quickly in the mirror on the wall by the door, and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Her blue eyes looked—well, blue, really. Nothing striking, no lightning zig-zagging across them, no neons flashing or LED lights running round her lashes!
No, it was all hidden carefully inside, and that was the way it was going to stay.
She got out the patients’ cards, the leaflets and tipsheets on diversionary tactics, and a whole host of little toys and gimmicks—stress-balls, squidgy rubbery balls that could be squeezed and squashed almost beyond recognition; chewing-gum—not nicotine gum but the ordinary sort that would help by giving the mouth a task without sustaining the need for nicotine, because some supposed ex-smokers had been reported to be still using the nicotine replacements a year later.
She also set out some nicotine patches which although they were also tobacco replacements at least gave a smaller, more sustained dose of nicotine and removed the mouth and hands from the habit, so that the level of the drug and the activities of the body became unrelated, helping to break the habit. They were easier to give up, too.
As she was setting out the last of the things Gideon appeared at her side.
Of course none of it will work without a bit of self-control and will-power,’ he said, and tossed one of the stress-balls in the air. ‘I read of a GP in Essex who advocates juggling among other things—as he said, it’s difficult to smoke and keep three balls in the air at the same time!’
Beth chuckled, and watched as he attempted to juggle with the balls.
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