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    Nurses
    Nurses
    Nurses
    Ebook59 pages1 hour

    Nurses

    By Tony Spencer

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    About this ebook

    When you are alone and hurt, it is comforting to know that someone really cares.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTony Spencer
    Release dateMay 21, 2013
    ISBN9781301000081
    Nurses
    Author

    Tony Spencer

    Have published 34 books since 1998, one out of print, 22 available on Smashwords, 6 on Wattpad and 5 on Amazon. I started writing fiction in 2012. I brought out a glut of little books as soon as I realised self publishing was an option, but now I am settling down to produce one novel and a collection of other stories each year. A grandfather of three angels, happily married for 42 years to another angel, living in Hampshire, England, about 35 miles west of London. I had worked for over 40 years as a printer and proofreader but retired in 2015 and hoping to spend more time writing. Also an editor of a community magazine, football programmes and have written weekly sports reports now for almost 20 years in local newspapers. Now concentrating on romantic fiction, mostly short stories, with occasional novellas and novels. Proud to be a member of the KCEditions independent publishing house of Canada.

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      Book preview

      Nurses - Tony Spencer

      Nurses

      Tony Spencer

      Published by Tony Spencer at Smashwords

      Copyright © 2013 Tony Spencer

      Smashword Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      I never got on with my old man, ever. I blamed him totally for my parents' break up. It was all his fault. Ma wasn't perfect, of course she wasn’t, couldn't put up with his obsessive workaholicism and they argued about his commitment constantly. Ma left him briefly a couple of times, she later told me, before she found someone else who lived halfway round the world and walked out of our lives for the very last time. I hated my father for that. The feeling was mutual though, I always disappointed him, whatever I did wasn't anywhere near good enough. Perhaps I went out of my way to piss him off. I wasn't interested in running the successful garage business that he had built up to pass on to me, I wanted to be my own man, do my own thing.

      So I joined the Royal Navy as soon as I was old enough, to see the world, or at least the North Atlantic, the Med, and the Indian Ocean. After 18 years of that, I worked on offshore oil rigs and platforms, mostly North Sea and Alaska early on, more recently warmer climes like Central and South America. Too old for cold nowadays, I guess. Fifty-five is definitely too old to be at the sharp end in the oil and gas game when you don't have the geology degrees; I managed the men, not the science. Most riggers have given it all up for the good life by this age, but then my ex-, that bitch Jeanie, was enjoying the good life that should have been mine.

      Anyway, there I was on a steamy hot day when I, Roger Bird, was contemplating packing it all in and doing something else, anything different, at the end of the current contract. Then I got the call from Ma that Da had suffered a third stroke, and had only a matter of days, hours possibly, left. Damn it, I didn't even know he'd had the first and second strokes. Nobody tells me anything, but then I've never been overly communicative either.

      Ma's lived in Oz for almost fifty years with her second husband Cliff and are rather frail themselves, both in their early- to mid-eighties. Even if she cared a jot for the old bugger, which she certainly doesn't, there's no-one left to visit and see Da through what might turn out to be the end. Damn! I hadn't seen him myself for about twenty years, that was when I stopped off in England and thanked him for looking after my kid a couple of months earlier. That's Mummy's boy Bobby, after he got himself in trouble with the law in a bar fight, over some teenage girl or other I shouldn't wonder. I was in Honduras for an exploratory bore at the time and couldn't get away immediately. I didn't exactly know where Jeanie was, we informally broke up our relationship years before, I guess that kinda runs in the family. I hated to ask Da for his help, but I had no other choice at the time.

      What is it about workaholic dads, freeloader kids and me in the middle? Can we ever coexist? Or is it just my family that can't?

      Well, I was on a similar crap job offshore near Chile when I got Ma's call about Da's stroke. I guess she still had a soft spot for Da that wasn't a swamp at the bottom of her half-million-hectare sheep station. I was in Chile because I ended up with all the dross jobs going lately, the up and coming young bloods were skimming all the cream. The third of my scheduled five bores was coming up as dry as the previous couple, so I put Pedro, or whoever he was, in charge, telling the company I needed a month off to look after my father. I didn't really have any intentions of going back but wanted breathing space to keep my options open. Then I flew home.

      Home! That was a joke. The only home I ever really had was made out of imitation crocodile leather, with a handle and wheels, the wheels being a recent concession to my aching back, the wear and tear of old age creeping up on me I guess.

      The last proper home I had was now that bitch Jeanie's, which she rents out, Bobby let slip in a recent email, and I got my lawyers looking into it. Apparently she's been co-habiting with an art dealer boyfriend in New York, so not only should I not still be paying her costly spousal

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