‘Is she all right?’ Cleo said with a gasp when she was close enough to Fran, who was now squatting at her sister’s side.
Lesley was sprawled on her stomach, her hands splayed on the gravelly ground in front. Fran didn’t answer but merely stared at Cleo, white-faced, her eyes bulging with fright.
At first, Lesley didn’t move. But then to Cleo’s relief, she started slowly pushing herself up to sitting.
‘Are you OK?’ Cleo repeated, coming to a halt, bending down and resting her hand lightly on Lesley’s shoulder. ‘I used to be a nurse. Shall I take a look?’
‘No need,’ Lesley said brusquely, brushing the dirt off her shirt and shorts.
Blood was trickling down her calf from a scrape on her knee, but the injury didn’t appear to be serious.
Before Cleo could say anything more, Lesley rose abruptly, almost making Cleo lose her balance and topple backwards. And Lesley rejected Fran’s offer of an arm with an angry jerk and shake of her head.
‘Come on,’ she said, smoothing her hair and straightening her top. Mark and Tash had caught up now and everyone was standing round, staring.
‘That’s in a very dangerous place.’ She pointed to the rock she’d evidently tripped on. ‘It should be moved off the path or someone will have a really nasty accident.’
Now it had been established she was all right, the two bag carriers went back to their trolleys and the group started to move off. Lesley, still keen to be at the front, walked faster than anyone else, but Cleo noticed she had a slight limp, which she was doing her best to disguise.
‘She’s awfully crabby,’ Tash whispered to Cleo. ‘She definitely didn’t want any help from you or anyone else. Tell me about being a nurse, by the way. Where do you, or where did you, work?’
‘Did,’ Cleo replied. ‘I worked in a GP surgery in Southfields, near Wimbledon, but it all got too stressful when my marriage collapsed.’
Tash nodded. ‘I can imagine. Will you go back to it?’
Cleo frowned. ‘I doubt it. It’s been over a year now. I’d probably need to do a refresher course. The landscape has changed since I left, plus, the NHS is in a right mess. I’m not sure I could handle the increased demands and responsibilities. There’s so much pressure. I know loads of nurses who’ve either quit or are seriously thinking about it.’
‘That’s such a shame,’ said Tash. ‘I bet you were brilliant at your job. We need people like you. I’ve always thought nurses should be paid more.’
Cleo was quiet for a while thinking about Tash’s words. It was true, she had been good at her job. Patients often asked to see her rather than the other nurses, and she’d got on very well with the practice doctors, too.
She used to enjoy her work – most of the time, anyway; she found it very rewarding. But everything went wrong the morning Paul sat on the end of her bed, all showered and dressed for the office, and told her he was in love with someone else.
Tears pricked her eyes and a painful lump appeared in her throat. She could still remember that sense of utter disbelief. She’d even laughed for a moment – thinking he was joking.
They’d been together almost thirty years and married for twenty-five. They’d met at a party and fallen in love pretty much at first sight. They’d built a home, had children, done everything by the book, really.
People who knew them would have said they were rock solid. Cleo swallowed. She’d thought so, too.
She could still recall getting a bit drunk and sloppy at a party once and telling a girlfriend she felt as if she and Paul had been moulded together, like clay, to become one person, with one heartbeat.
They had the same sense of humour, she’d said, and the same outlook on life. She didn’t mind when he used her toothbrush because he couldn’t find his own, and they often chatted to each other while they were on the loo. She even ironed his underpants.
The friend, who was also married, had seemed amazed and a little envious.
‘We’re best mates as well as lovers,’ Cleo had gone on. She felt ashamed of the boast now. ‘We’re an ideal combo, like lamb and rosemary or seafood and lemon. We’re so lucky to have found each other.’
It was surprising, really, that the friend hadn’t stuck her fingers down her throat and thrown up there and then, but Cleo hadn’t meant to brag. She’d truly believed every word she’d said.
A counsellor she’d been seeing recently had told her in no uncertain terms that people in happy marriages don’t stray, but Cleo had disagreed, insisting theywerehappy. Paul had even said as much to her while admitting almost in the same breath to being unfaithful.
‘I didn’t want to fall in love with someone else,’ he’d said. ‘I thought I loved you. It just happened.’
The pain of remembering made Cleo walk faster and she clenched her fists, recalling how she’d wanted to be angry with him, but couldn’t. Instead, she’d felt utterly desolate – abandoned, helpless, grief-stricken and frightened. She didn’t know how she could continue living without him, and if it hadn’t been for the children, she might have jumped off the nearest tower block.
In a short space of time, she’d changed so much, she thought she’d barely recognise the happy, secure, fulfilled woman she’d once been.
Unable to work, she’d gone on extended sick leave before realising she’d lost all confidence and would never be able to do the job again. She used to love singing and had been a member of the local a cappella choir, but she’d quit that, too, and spent her days moping round the house and crying.
