The Country Doctor: Captivating tales from a young GP's case notes

by Jean McConnell

  ‘An accident with the gun. He was climbing over a stile and he slipped. The gun went off by accident.’

  The woman spoke with a faint accent that Linda could not place. The man just nodded.

  ‘You should have told me this,’ said Linda, unwrapping the shoulder. ‘Are you on the telephone?’

  ‘It’s not bad enough for hospital,’ said the man, reading her thoughts.

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Linda, using the cheerful but firm voice that she felt to be suitable for a General Practitioner. In hospital the patients were mostly overawed and respectful, cowed by their surroundings, and Linda missed this bulwark behind her. As a mere locum, young, pretty and temporary, she was anxious to win respect for her authority.

  But the wound was not as serious as it might have been.

  ‘You’re lucky. Very lucky, Mr Tomkins. Another couple of inches and the bullet would have been into your lung.’ As it was, it had passed straight through the soft flesh under his arm, just missing the shoulder blade.

  Linda brought dressings from her car and cleaned and bandaged the man’s shoulder.

  ‘How did it come to happen?’

  ‘It was the jolt it got. Me falling on it, like.’

  ‘How was it that you fell?’

  ‘My boot slipped.’

  ‘He carries it over his shoulder like this, you see?’ Mrs Tomkins was demonstrating. ‘And as he fell off the stile it hit against the fence and made the trigger go off.’

  ‘Yes. Just like that,’ the man added.

  Their eyes were fixed guardedly on Linda’s reactions.

  ‘It’s easy to slip with all this mud,’ the woman went on quickly, ‘and where the stile leads into the meadow it’s very bad. It is where the cows stand, you see, and ‒’

  ‘Is that the gun?’ Linda asked, pointing to the corner of the room. ‘What sort is it?’

  ‘Point two-two ‒ for shootin’ vermin.’

  Linda finished dealing with the wound. ‘We must get him to his bed.’

  ‘Yes, Doctor,’ said Mrs Tomkins. ‘I’ll go up and make ready.’ And she hurried away.

  ‘I’ll be in tomorrow to see how you are, Mr Tomkins.’

  ‘I’ll be all right.’

  ‘You don’t know what a narrow escape you had. You’d better save that bullet for a souvenir, if you can find it.’

  ‘That’ll be easy enough.’

  ‘Easy? What out in a field?’

  ‘Oh. Oh no ‒ I was forgetting ‒’ Linda looked at him curiously and he avoided her eye.

  Linda closed her bag and carried it out into the hall. She felt vaguely troubled. It was shadowy, and it gave her a start as she became aware of a figure crouched back under the stairs. It was the boy whose face she’d seen at the window. He was about thirteen years old and Linda had never seen a youngster look so stricken. From his resemblance to the man in the sitting-room she guessed it was his son.

  ‘Don’t worry, lad,’ she said. ‘He’s going to be quite all right.’

  ‘I wish he were dead!’ The boy hissed out the words then ran off down the passage.

  Linda stared after him, completely taken aback.

  There was a step on the stairs and Mrs Tomkins came down.

  ‘I’ve got everything ready,’ she said and passed into the sitting room without a glance down the passage although Linda could have sworn she had heard the boy’s words.

  Together the two women assisted the heavy man up to the bedroom, removed his clothes and got him settled. For a man who had taken a severe tumble in the mud, there was remarkably little on his clothes, Linda reflected. In fact, there was too little. Far too little.

  Linda was still pondering on this point as she climbed into her car. As she switched on the engine a head poked through the window beside her.

  ‘Excuse me, my dear. You’re the new doctor, aren’t you? You’ll give an old lady a lift down the village won’t you, my love?’

  ‘Of course.’ Linda opened the door and a wiry, nut-brown little woman got in beside her, clutching a bedraggled shopping-bag to her bosom.

  ‘Saw you arrive, I did. I give hand with the chicken down by. They’re in trouble this time, aren’t they?’

  ‘Mr Tomkins? Well, it could have been worse.’ Linda put the engine into top and speeded up. She had a feeling the woman was set on extracting from her a few juicy titbits to gossip over. But instead she spread her own rich banquet.

  ‘Dutch, she is. Strangers always bring trouble. Got himself to blame, right enough. Marrying a foreigner like that. Running up to London like that and bringing back a girl nobody ever clapped eyes on before. His own fault, what’s happened.’

  The woman suddenly craned her neck to look back down the road.

  ‘There’s two of old Abel’s sheep loose,’ she said, with satisfaction. ‘Where was I? Oh yes, George Tomkins brought it on himself. Stands to reason a girl like that ‒ not belonging in these parts ‒ she doesn’t fit in. Nor her son neither. Soft in the head the lad is. Didn’t I see him myself? Cryin’ his eyes out down by the pond when he finds the kittens Abel drowned. And him all of thirteen. And comes home from school most days with a bruise that his father’ll give him one to match for getting! Boy’s soft and everybody knows it. That’s what comes of marrying foreigners. And George Tomkins never got shot falling over a stile, I warrant!’

  Linda brought the car to a halt in the village street and her passenger got out.

  ‘This’ll do fine, my dear, and thank you. I do hope you’ll be happy in Stoke Dabenham, Miss ‒ er, Doctor Ford, living up there with Doctor Cooper. Just the two of you.’

  ‘I have a flat in the stable block, as a matter of fact!’

  Linda could have kicked herself for rising to the bait.

  ‘My dear life, that must be cosy. Bye bye then. I’ll be in surgery as usual on Tuesday with my leg.’

  It is cosy, thought Linda, as she soaked in a warm bath. Linda had been angry at the woman’s spiteful attack on the Tomkins, but the scented water and comforting steam were mellowing her mood. Nevertheless there was something amiss there. She knew it and felt a sense of foreboding. Tomorrow! she said to herself firmly, and climbed out of the bath to attend to the serious business of dressing.

  When Linda got over to the big house Doctor Cooper was not yet back, but there was a fire in the lounge and Linda strolled in and settled in an armchair by it, picking up a newspaper. ‘Shots Fired Across Border. Israelis Claim ‒’ She laid the paper down. Shots fired. That gun up at the Tomkins.

  That wasn’t muddy either. And how was it Mrs Tomkins had said it happened? Linda went into the hall and took a walking stick from the stand. Back in the lounge she climbed on a chair and jumped off, letting the stick fall in the way described by the Tomkins. It didn’t seem to work. She climbed back on to the chair, hung the walking stick on her shoulder and was about to launch herself into space again.

  ‘What in the world are you doing, Doctor?’

  Linda regained her balance, stepped down from the chair and apologised to Doctor Cooper, who stood in the doorway staring at her in astonishment.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘Obviously!’ The voice came from behind the older man, where, to her horror, Linda saw a second figure and recognised instantly who it was.

  ‘I thought you were out on a call,’ said Linda.

  ‘No, I went to the station to pick up my son. If you’ll come down off the furniture I’ll introduce you.’

  Linda climbed down, feeling a complete idiot. And the mocking twinkle in the eye of the young man did little to help matters.

  It took Linda what felt like four hours to pull on her shoes, then she straightened her shoulders and held out her hand.

  ‘How do you do,’ she said.

  ‘The flying doctor, I presume,’ said the young man.

  Linda laughed. She had no alternative.

  ‘Peter is down on a brief visit. No warning. Usual pattern! You two get to know each other,
I’ll rustle up some extras from the kitchen.’

  Doctor Cooper left the room, and Linda found herself under the scrutiny of his son. It was a challenging, appraising regard. All right, thought Linda, so you’re worried that your father has a fool for a locum. Well, you are quite mistaken, sonny boy.

  ‘Your father has told me so much about you,’ said Linda. It wasn’t strictly true, but it scored her a point in the little duel they were engaged in.

  ‘And it’s all true,’ said Peter, cheerfully.

  But his ears went pink, and Linda suddenly liked him better.

  He poured them both a sherry.

  ‘Were you up on the chair for any particular reason? Mouse? Flood warning?’

  ‘I must have looked ridiculous, but there was a serious purpose. There was an accident today ‒ with a gun. I was trying to see how it could possibly have happened ‒ and I don’t think it could have. Not like they said.’

  ‘Tell us about it at supper,’ said Doctor Cooper, entering on her words. ‘And I’ll be very much obliged if you’ll stay down off the furniture. I’m too tired to set any broken bones this evening.’

  When they’d drunk their soup, Cooper gave her his permission to talk. At once Linda told him about the incident at the Tomkins.

  ‘‒ and there was no mud either on his clothes and the rifle and I’m sure it could never have happened the way she said. In fact, I’m as certain as I’m sitting here that Mrs Tomkins was lying!’ Linda flung down her spoon heatedly.

  ‘More than likely, my dear. More than likely,’ said Cooper equably. ‘If you were as familiar with the intrigues and deceits of the female sex as I am, you wouldn’t find it so surprising.’

  ‘But ‒’

  ‘Challenge her, Doctor Ford, challenge her. Tell her you don’t believe a word of her pack of nonsense.’

  ‘She seemed nice enough,’ said Linda.

  ‘They all do. They all do.’ Cooper cut himself more pie.

  ‘But her story was definitely untrue.’

  ‘Catch her out, my dear. Go ahead. Have no mercy.’

  ‘My word, father, we’re in a very belligerent mood,’ said Peter.

  ‘Do you wonder. Six miles out to see Mrs Mandeville, only to have her clasp my hand and whisper the time for an assignation.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Linda knew Mrs Mandeville was a newcomer to the district and had definite designs on Cooper, luring him to her house on any pretext. So far the doctor had nimbly avoided her wiles.

  ‘It’s a battle of wits,’ said Cooper cheerfully, ‘but I have a plan to confound the woman. I propose to turn up at the “wrong” time ‒ in fact when her husband is home, which will, I hope, both infuriate her and embarrass her, since there is nothing wrong with her whatsoever.’

  ‘What a devilish plot,’ said Linda, laughing.

  ‘’Tis rather. Have some more salad.’

  ‘You’ve yet to know my father,’ said Peter. ‘Don’t be fooled by that old-world, disarming bedside manner.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of charm, my boy, to help the medicine go down.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ said Peter, and turned to refill Linda’s wine glass with a heart-stopping smile.

  A chip off the old block all right, thought Linda. A good thing I’m older and wiser than I was or ...

  ‘To more serious matters,’ said Peter, leaning towards her earnestly. ‘Tell us the intimate details of your personal life.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ laughed Linda. ‘They’re not suitable for your innocent ears.’

  ‘I might have guessed. I should think you’ve caused a bit of a stir down here in Sleepy Hollow.’

  ‘Of course. Wild parties. The lads of the village battering my door down ‒’

  ‘And who could blame them, indeed.’

  Under his searching eye, Linda was lost for words and began concentrating on her plate. She was usually a fair match for this kind of banter. She felt cross with herself for finding his physical nearness attractive and distracting. She must keep her cool with this self-assured gentleman.

  ‘You didn’t bring Susan down this time then, Peter,’ said Doctor Cooper.

  ‘No, she’d got her head down in work. Needs to catch up a bit.’

  So he has a girlfriend, thought Linda. That’s all right then. Yes. Good. Splendid.

  ‘Has Susan fallen seriously behind?’ asked the older doctor.

  ‘Don’t think so. Not sure really. Haven’t seen much of her lately.’

  So there wasn’t a girlfriend. Ah.

  ‘I’m a couple of ladies behind, am I,’ observed John Cooper.

  ‘Yes,’ said Peter. And they all laughed.

  When Linda called at the Tomkins next day, the man looked better and said his wound was easing. The boy was nowhere in sight.

  After medical matters were dealt with she took a deep breath and went into the attack.

  ‘I don’t believe what you said about the shooting, you know.’

  The husband and wife exchanged looks and Linda felt the atmosphere grow tense.

  ‘It’s true, I tell you ‒’ the man began to bluster.

  ‘Very well,’ said Linda. ‘Stick to it if you like but you don’t convince me and I don’t think the police will accept it.’

  There was panic in their eyes as they looked at her.

  Linda went towards the door.

  ‘George!’ pleaded Mrs Tomkins.

  ‘All right,’ said the man reluctantly. ‘Tell her.’

  ‘Wait! Doctor Ford! We’ll tell you the truth. Please listen.’

  With difficulty she began. ‘Then you will understand why we did not wish it known. It is all my fault. I ‒ I ‒ there was another man. A foolish affair that brought me only pain. My husband found out at last and there was a great quarrel. He threatened with a gun. There was a struggle. Somehow – I don’t know how it happened ‒ my lover got hold of it. He did not mean to shoot, but it went off.’

  Mrs Tomkins was turned away from Linda with her eyes cast down. ‘Now it is all over. My husband says he will forgive me. My ‒ my friend is leaving the country. Please do not tell the police. Let him go! Let it all be forgotten!’

  Mr Tomkins nodded agreement.

  ‘I doubt whether you can keep it quiet, you know,’ said Linda, thinking of the gossiping woman to whom she’d given a lift. If there were many more like her in this harsh and isolated little community, it would soon get round.

  ‘Doctor, it is a chance to start again. And now if there is more trouble ‒’ She hid her face in her hands.

  Linda was perplexed.

  That the woman was genuinely distressed she had no doubt, but nonetheless she had the feeling that she was not at the bottom of the matter. Linda pressed the woman’s thin shoulder and she drew herself together.

  ‘I’ll be in again.’ Linda made her escape through the back door.

  It was no good. Mrs Tomkins just wasn’t the type. Yet was there a type? People were plunging into unsuitable relationships every minute of the day. Linda thought of her own unhappy experience ‒ and noted with relief that the stab of pain was blunter. No, there wasn’t a type; it happened to anybody.

  But there had been something too secure and long-committed in the way the Tomkins had taken hands on the occasion of her first visit.

  As Linda walked to her car she caught sight of the boy perched in the low branches of an old tree, hugging the dog to his chest.

  As she looked towards him, he cowered back muttering into the dog’s ear and watching her with wary eyes. She knew if she took a step in his direction he would be off across the windswept fields. She shivered and hurried to climb into the shelter of the car.

  Linda took surgery at the village of Pretting that evening. The gas fire was giving out less heat than usual and seemed to have digestive trouble, but there were only two patients. One was an old man with a cough who eyed Linda suspiciously, but the other was a shy woman with piles, who said she was glad it was Linda taking surgery. This was ch
eering and Linda sped back to Stoke Dabenham humming to the radio.

  She decided to write home that night. It was always a good idea to write to her parents when she was feeling confident. Their support had been so important to her, and she liked them to feel it had paid off. But later the thought of the mystery of the Tomkins came nagging back and she felt herself floundering again.

  ‘You’re a doctor, not a detective,’ Cooper reminded her when she brought the matter up again while the three doctors were taking coffee together.

  ‘But one must care!’ said Linda. ‘A splint, a few pills, a bottle of medicine ‒ that’s not the sum total of it!’

  ‘My dear girl ‒’

  ‘There’s something terribly wrong up at that chicken farm. That boy! If ever I saw a disturbed child, it’s him! Why? There’s a man with a wound in his shoulder, but the pain I see in his eyes is nothing to do with that. There’s deeper trouble and I want to deal with it.’

  ‘They’ve not called you for that though,’ said Peter.

  ‘Why do I have to wait till someone breaks down, till some tragedy occurs perhaps? When you see a person in stress surely you should take action!’

  Cooper sat back in his chair and regarded her earnest face.

  ‘But what action can you possibly take?’ said Peter.

  ‘I don’t know! I don’t know!’

  ‘That’s just it.’ Cooper sighed. ‘Use your eyes and use your ears,’ he said, ‘and keep cool.’

  ‘But ‒’

  ‘The last thing your patients need is your emotional involvement. Believe me!’ said Peter. And his father nodded.

  Linda accepted they were right. But it didn’t make her feel easier. She couldn’t just “switch off” her concern.

  The telephone rang. Linda recognised the sultry voice of the predatory Mrs Mandeville asking for Doctor Cooper.

  ‘Shall I say you’re out?’ whispered Linda helpfully.

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Cooper, taking the instrument readily.

  ‘Now Mrs Mandeville, what seems to be the trouble this time?’ He winked at Linda and began to handle the delicate situation with obvious enjoyment.

  Peter walked Linda over to her flat.

  ‘I envy your father his experience,’ said Linda. ‘I’m full of uncertainties.’