Page 167 of Wife After Wife

Harry looked at Megan, and after a moment they both laughed.

“Good idea, son. Let’s get two. We’ll call them William and Kate!”

•••

Nurse Clare was a sight for sore eyes, thought Harry as she pumped up the band wrapped around his arm. She wore a pale blue shirt and trousers, so crisp and clean, and her fair hair was pinned up into a creative bun, one with plaits and things going on to make it less sensible.

“How have you been?” she asked, keeping her hazel eyes on the blood-pressure monitor.

“Good!” said Harry. “And you, Nurse Clare?”

“Hundred and sixty over a hundred and ten.” She looked at him, her head on one side. “We’ve known each other awhile, Harry.”

“Indeed we have.” He sensed she was about to say something along the lines of Megan’s lecture last Friday.

“So... how are youreally? Between you and me.”

He sighed. “Not great.” It was a relief to say it. “Terrible, actually.”

“Thought so. For a start we’ll need to up your blood-pressure medication.” She released the armband.

“Lovely. More pills.”

“Has Dr. Butts talked to you about lifestyle changes?”

“My lifestyle has a habit of changing, whether I want it to or not.”

“I understand. And sometimes we respond to those changes in ways that do us no favors. We drink too much, eat too much; exercise goes out of the window because we just don’t have the energy. I’m twice widowed, Harry. I might have some idea of what you’re going through.”

Harry had been enjoying the empathy, the opportunity for a spot of wallowing, but her words pulled him up. “You are? I’m sorry to hear that, Nurse Clare.”

“Just Clare’s fine. Look, after you’ve finished with the doctor, let’s have a chat about how I can help you with those changes. It’s all about small steps. Nobody’s going to ask you to completely give up wine or cheese. But we could devise a plan?” She gently held his wrist while she took his pulse.

“Don’t you wear that upside-down watch anymore?”

“No. And we wear trousers, not little dresses, and no more silly hats. Times have changed.”

“Haven’t they just,” he said. “So it wouldn’t be inappropriate if I asked you to give me some dietary advice over lunch, rather than in this scarily clinical environment?”

She smiled. “I finish at twelve. We can make it a long one. Healthy, of course.”

•••

“So how did it go with Dr. Butts?” Clare asked, pouring them both a glass of water. “If you want to tell me, that is. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“You have access to my records, so you can find out the sorry state of affairs, correct?”

“True, but I’d never nosey on a patient unless it was for professional reasons.”

“Well, my leg hurts because it has to support too much weight and I’m not doing enough exercise. If I don’t lose a couple of stone the leg reconstruction may need reconstructing. High cholesterol. High blood pressure. Regular headaches, not sure why. Stress. Also insomnia. Shall I go on?”

“There’s more?”

Harry hesitated. Should he tell her? She had such kind eyes.

“I’m addicted to painkillers. Have been for years. Dr. Butts doesn’t know about that one.”

“OK, let’s think about how we can address this.”