Festive Fling with the Single Dad

‘Okay. I’ll take a look at that, then.’ Flora seemed undeterred by the description. ‘I’ll go and see Mrs Crawford first.’

‘I think you’ll find she’s a great deal better. She said that she’d been able to raise her arm enough to brush her hair the other day.’ The smiling receptionist was clearly one of those key people in any establishment who knew exactly what was going on with everyone.

‘Great. Thanks. My colleague’s here for a meeting with Eileen. Is she around?’

‘Yes, she’s in her office.’ The receptionist stood, leaning over the desk. ‘Is that your dog? She’s gorgeous. May I stroke her?’

‘Of course. Her name’s Kari.’

‘I’ll leave you to it...’ Flora shot him a smile, and grabbed the strap of her bag from his shoulder. Aksel watched as she walked away from him. Bad sign. If she turned back and he found himself smiling, that would be an even worse sign.

* * *

Flora had gone on her way, warmed by the smile that Aksel had given her, but stopped at the lift and looked back. It was impossible not to look back at him, he was so darned easy on the eye. And the way he seemed to be struggling with himself only made him even more intriguing.

Fortunately, Mrs Crawford was waiting to see her, and Flora could turn her thoughts to the improvement in her frozen shoulder. Aksel was still lurking in the part of her brain where he seemed to have taken up permanent residence, but he was quiet for the moment.

‘Your shoulder seems much better, Helen, you have a lot more movement in it now. Are you still having to take painkillers to get to sleep?’

Helen leaned forward in her chair, giving her a confiding smile. ‘Last night I didn’t feel I needed them so I put them in the drawer beside my bed.’

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‘Right. You do know that you can just tell the carer you don’t need them and she’ll take them away again?’ Flora made a mental note to retrieve the tablets before she left and have them disposed of.

‘She’d come all the way up here. And I might need them at some other time. It’s my medication, but they act as if it’s all up to them whether I take it.’

Flora had heard the complaint before. Drugs were carefully overseen and dispensed when needed, and it was one of the things that Helen had been used to making her own decisions about.

‘They have to do that, they’ll get in all kinds of trouble if they don’t store medicines safely and keep a record. Some people here forget whether or not they’ve taken their medication and take too much or too little.’ Some people was vague enough to imply that Flora didn’t include Helen in that.

‘I suppose so. It’s very annoying, though.’

‘I know. Give the carers a break, they have to keep to the rules or they’ll get into trouble.’ Flora appealed to Helen’s better nature.

Helen nodded. ‘I wouldn’t want them to get into trouble over me. They have enough to do and they’re very kind.’

‘Right, then. I’ll write in your notes that the carer is to offer you the painkillers and ask whether you want them or not. Is that okay?’ Flora moved round so that Helen could see over her shoulder. She liked to know what was being written about her.

‘All right, dear.’ Helen tapped the paper with one finger. ‘Put that it’s up to me whether I take them or not.’

Flora added the note, and Helen nodded in approval. She’d raised four children, and worked in the village pharmacy for thirty years to supplement the family income, and even though her three sons and daughter were determined that she should be well looked after now, she resisted any perceived loss of independence.

‘Who’s the young man you arrived with? He’s very tall.’ Helen’s living-room window overlooked the drive, and she liked to keep an eye on arrivals and departures.

‘That’s Aksel Olsen. He’s from the canine therapy centre at the castle. They’re talking about setting up a dog visiting scheme.’

‘To help train the dogs? I could help with that, but I’m not sure that many of the others could.’

‘Well, those who can’t help might benefit from having the companionship of an animal. Don’t you think?’

Helen thought for a moment and nodded. ‘Yes, I think they will. Where’s he from? His name isn’t Scottish.’

‘He’s Norwegian. The dog understands Norwegian, too. He’s trained Kari as an assistance dog for his daughter.’

‘He has a daughter? Then he has a wife, too?’ Helen was clearly trying to make the question sound innocent.

‘No. No wife.’