Page 15 of Second Act at Appleton Green
‘Isn’t this a lovely cottage,’ he said. ‘Such a cosy home – it’s perfect.’
He put his bag on the ground near Violet’s chair, with her reading glasses and newspaper on the little table next to it.
‘It is a lovely home and would be better if you weren’t inside it,’ she said with a sly smile.
‘Gran!’ Lily was shocked at Gran’s words. She was blunt but this was rude.
‘I simply meant he can go and see other more needy patients than me,’ she said and shuffled backwards and then sat down in her chair.
‘Unfortunately I can’t leave without seeing you, Mrs Baxter. Those are the rules and you wouldn’t like me to break the rules and then get into trouble, would you?’ Violet turned her nose up at him and Lily had to admire his approach. Gran wouldn’t want anyone to get into trouble because of her.
‘I don’t mind breaking the odd rule, but I don’t want you to be in any strife.’
‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ Lily asked Nick, who was opening the medical kit bag. ‘I was about to make a new pot.’
‘That would be lovely, thanks,’ he said as he put some ointments and medical supplies on the little table next to her.
‘You’re not staying that long are you?’ It was Violet’s turn to roll her eyes.
Lily gave her grandmother a warning look. ‘Gran, let him do his job. As I said, I was making another pot anyway.’
Lily went into the kitchen as she heard Nick buttering up Violet, chatting about nothing and everything as he took her blood pressure.
She put the kettle on and then looked outside and saw some of Gran’s washing on the little clothes line by the potting shed. They looked to have been out there for a few days, and probably needed to be rewashed since it had rained when Gran had been in hospital.
‘Just grabbing the washing,’ she said to them but they didn’t seem to notice her as she stepped outside and looked around the back garden. There was a wall surrounding the space, with a small potting shed, some overgrown garden beds, long abandoned and abundant with weeds. She could do a tidy-up here while she was at the cottage. She went to the line and unpegged the clothes. She held a wooden peg in her hand, the spring rusting, and she pegged it back on the line. Gran was so old-fashioned, which was why she loved being at the cottage. The simple rituals that had marked her time at the cottage were her favourite memories as a child. The toast in the toast rack. The brown teapot and a drawer filled with tea cosies that Lily would always choose a new one from every day. All of them knitted or sewn by Gran.
The walks they used to take along the stream, picking up tiny wild violets that Lily would put in a little glass bottle by her bed, lulled to sleep with their scent.
Violet had told her the mythology of violets that came from Zeus, who was married to Hera. He turned his mistress into a heifer to hide her from Hera, and when the mistress-heifer complained she was hungry, he made a field of violets for her to eat and sent a bunch to Hera as an apology. Supposedly the flowers soothed the jealous Hera and so the Greeks began using them to calm anger and induce sleep.
Lily had always liked that story, and would lie in bed as a child and imagine being turned into a cow. Maybe if she was a cow now, she could moo her way into employment, she thought as she held the washing in her arms. She tried to sing and nothing came out again.
Lily came inside and put the washing back in the small machine under the kitchen bench and then filled the pot. Gran was having the dressing on her nose changed by Nick, who was wearing gloves and being very gentle it seemed.
She watched him work, mesmerised by the care he was talking. She watched as he gently persuaded Gran to let him do his job, his manner both professional and kind.
How long had it been since a man had been as gentle with her? Maybe she needed to fall over and graze her face for some attention. It was impossible to date when you worked in musical theatre, she always said. Late nights, and it was hard to meet people at work, since most of the male cast seemed to only want to date each other and it was sort of a weird culture of people who would burst into song at any time. Musical theatre people had a song for everything that happened in life and viewed karaoke night as an audition.
Even Lily found herself exhausting to be around at times.
‘How’s the tea going?’ Gran’s question burst her thoughts and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks.
Gran stared at her a little longer than usual and Lily knew she had been caught staring at Nick, and she turned quickly and made a pot and took out a mug for Nick.
‘While you’re here, Nick, can you look at Lily’s throat? She said it’s been a bit tricky and she’s a singer. Can you see if there is anything happening in her tonsils or the like?’ Gran said with that smile that Lily knew only too well.
‘Of course,’ said Nick with a smile on his handsome face that made her feel flustered. ‘Come and sit down.’ He gestured to the chair near Gran and Lily glared at Gran, who gave her a look that she wouldn’t dare defy. She wished she could film this and show Nigel, because they would be screaming with laughter at the fantasies he was bringing up.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing. I just seemed to lose my voice when I tried to sing,’ she said, knowing she was blushing.
‘Oh you’re a singer?’ asked Nick. He changed his gloves and then took out a tongue depressor from his bag.
‘She’s been on the West End. She’s a beautiful lyrical soprano,’ said Gran proudly.
‘Wow, I’m impressed. Open wide,’ he said and Lily closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him, feeling vulnerable and silly all at once, and opened her mouth. This was almost too much, she thought.
‘Tongue out,’ he said and she felt the depressor on her tongue as he looked down her throat.
