‘Well, let’s face it, you’ve not been at it for long ‒’
‘I spent a year in hospital in the East End of London!’
‘Ah, but you don’t know country ways. I was brought up here and I know the people are different. They’ll only tell you what they want you to know. They won’t want you to go nosing about.’
‘That’s just too bad! I’ll certainly go nosing about ‒ as you put it ‒ if I get a bad scent.’
‘Look, take my advice, you’ll be better devoting your time to curing the sick than getting involved in some imagined psychological problems of the locals. And as for the Tomkins scene ‒ forget it. Goodnight, Linda.’
And he actually patted her hand before striding off.
Linda watched him go with indignation building. Really! Dutch Uncle time! And he’s hardly been qualified any longer than me! What’s more, not been in General Practice at all yet. Saucy monkey!
She marched up her stairs and flung herself into an armchair. So! She’d sort out all that advice and accept what seemed reasonable. But as for forgetting the Tomkins problem ‒ well she couldn’t, and that was that.
That the boy was the key to the situation Linda had no doubt, and she resolved to find some means of tackling him. But it wasn’t necessary. Two days later she came upon him outside the village shop. There was a knot of boys at the door and two figures threshing on the ground in violent battle. Linda drew her car into the kerb and ran towards the scene, pushing aside the passive onlookers and seizing hold of the attacker, she dragged him off. It was young Tomkins. His eyes were wild and his fists were red with blood from the other boy’s nose which was streaming. Released, the victim quickly made off, leaving a trail of red stains down the road, and followed by his friends.
Linda shook the Tomkins boy. ‘What do you think you are doing!’
‘He called her a name! He called her a rotten name!’ The boy was sobbing hysterically.
‘Who?’
‘Mum. My mother.’
‘Get in the car.’
He sat next to her with tears pouring down his face as she drove quickly out of the village. Then she stopped and gave him a handkerchief to clean himself up.
How much did the boy know, she wondered.
‘They’re all talking about her. Whole village is talking about her. Saying she got a ‒’ He searched for the words they’d used. It came out in a whisper, ‘Fancy man.’
He didn’t say more, but it was obvious the villagers had spared the child no details of what the words implied.
‘It’s not true!’ he wept.
‘Son, listen to me.’ On impulse, Linda made her decision. ‘Your parents have been through a bit of trouble and it’s nobody’s business but theirs.’
‘What are you saying?’ He was utterly bewildered.
‘There was an argument and a struggle with the gun, and accidentally it went off ‒’
‘Who told you this?’
‘Your parents. But it’s all over now. The important thing is that they love one another and want to make a new start and ‒’
‘But it’s lies you’re telling. There was never any trouble between my mother and dad. It was me who shot at Dad! Not any “fancy man”.’
‘You!’
So this was what they had been trying to hide.
‘Going for me and going for me. Telling me I’m soft and making fun of me. ’Cos I don’t take after him or grandad who were a champion boxer in the county. Always going on ’cos I was no fighter. And that morning he threw away some flints I’d found. Said collecting stones was babyish. But they were special, see, I was taking them to the museum and he’d thrown them away! I was so mad I started crying, then he hit me and I grabbed hold of the gun and fired at him! But I missed. I only got his shoulder!’ His bitterness was ugly and disturbing.
‘Come home with me and have some tea.’
He sat silent and pale as they drove to the stable block, where Linda sat him down to buttered toast and jam, and told him to read a book till he felt better.
‘I’ve a couple of things to pick up in surgery, then I’ll take you home.’
Linda spotted Doctor Cooper in his garden, cutting back shrubs.
‘Doctor Cooper!’ She ran towards him.
‘Japonica,’ he said. ‘Drastically overgrown. Needs major surgery.’ He performed the operation with enthusiasm.
‘Doctor Cooper, I’ve got to the facts at last!’
‘Thank heavens for that.’
Linda told him the boy’s story, and Cooper looked thoughtful.
‘I don’t care what you advise, Doctor Cooper,’ said Linda recklessly. ‘I intend to say a word or two to Mr Tomkins! Bullying the boy into such a state! Just because the child doesn’t happen to be a roughneck like some of those others! His own son! He can’t have any feelings for him at all!’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Well I am! He’s nothing but an arrogant man with an oversized pride.’
‘Quite. And have you thought what it has cost that proud man to let that made-up story of his wife’s infidelity be bandied round the district? You say he doesn’t love the boy? I wonder. Think hard about those “words” you’re going to have with him, Doctor Ford.’
Linda turned away in silence and went to fetch a sterile container she needed for old Mrs Ilsing’s blood sample. She took her time, to give the boy a chance to collect himself. If he was still overwrought she might give him a mild sedative. But when she got back he seemed calmer although he had eaten very little. She sat down by the fire opposite him.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Dave.’
‘Listen, Dave, I believe what you say. That the tale is a lie. It didn’t ring true when she told it to me. But it was she herself who told me, Dave, and your father didn’t deny it. Why do you suppose they did that?’
‘It wasn’t right.’
‘I know. But why did they make it up? Why didn’t they say what really happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘But what if they had? What if they’d told the truth?’
‘I s’pose I’d have got in trouble.’
‘You certainly would. And do you understand, Dave, that story that got about ‒ it must have made your father feel very ashamed. I don’t suppose he’s been into the village much since.’
‘No, he hasn’t.’ The boy frowned.
‘And he did it for you, Dave. To shield you.’
The boy’s face grew hard.
‘I know he’s made you unhappy, but ‒ perhaps ‒ perhaps he was afraid for you. The world’s a tough place. He wanted you to hold your own.’
‘I can’t fight.’
‘You were doing all right today!’
‘I never done it afore. I made ’is nose bleed!’
He suddenly giggled.
‘You know, I’ve a feeling, Dave, that things might be different between you and your father from now on. I feel sure he could never have known how much he was upsetting you. Won’t you give him a chance? It’s a big thing he’s done for your sake, Dave, and he won’t live it down in a hurry.’
There was no reply, but Linda looked into his face, from which the tension was now gone, and she felt hopeful.
‘I better get home, please, Miss. My dad’ll ‒’ He paused thoughtfully, ‘be worried.’
As they drove home to the farm, Linda could feel the boy’s spirits rising.
‘Super car! I like M.G.s. Even old ones.’
He looked a little surprised when they arrived and she got out.
‘Are you coming in?’
‘Yes. I want a word with your father.’
‘Oh.’ But he looked at her trustingly.
Linda hoped fervently that she would find the right things to say. She was grateful for Doctor Cooper’s warning. She had been all set to blunder in with all guns blazing, and a lot of good that would have done everyone! Control. Composing her manner into one of serious but calm concern she went into the s
itting room; and was thrown completely off balance by Tomkins’s immediate attack.
‘What have you brought him home for? What’s the boy been doing now?’ he shouted.
‘Fighting!’ Linda shouted back, ‘and, unlike you, I wouldn’t think it anything to be proud of ‒’
‘Fighting!’ Tomkins jaw dropped.
‘Except that in this case he was provoked beyond reasonable limits.’
‘Fighting?’
‘Yes! Those village boys, who you so much want him to be like, they greatly enjoyed jeering at his parents.’
Linda became aware of Mrs Tomkins standing rigidly in the doorway.
‘And he went for them?’
‘Very much so, Mr Tomkins. You’ve misjudged him very badly. So he doesn’t go throwing his weight about and he’s got a gentle nature, but he’s got courage enough when it’s really necessary.’
‘He never showed it before.’
‘What if he didn’t? What good did it do the child to torment him until he was crazy enough to try to kill you!’
‘Oh George!’ The woman clung to him. ‘She knows!’
‘Can you imagine how desperate your son must have been to do such a thing?’
Tomkins’s face whitened and he groped for his wife’s hand as if lost. ‘I never meant to drive him so far,’ he whispered. ‘I swear it. But he were laughing-stock of village, and that’s a fact. I couldn’t bear my friends all calling him soft. They pitied me.’
‘Your friends, Mr Tomkins? If I were you I’d take a closer look at some of them. I think you might find that the ones who “pitied” you so much were quite ready to revel in the bit of scandal about your marriage!’
Mrs Tomkins looked at her husband intently. There were years of local persecution etched in her face.
‘We’re cut off in this valley, you know, and they’re a hard lot hereabout,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘Narrow too, I suppose, some of them.’
‘And they’re no yardstick to measure your son by, Mr Tomkins!’ declared Linda.
Later that night, returning from a minor emergency, Linda was waylaid by John Cooper and invited in for a farewell drink with his son. Linda accepted with alacrity and took the opportunity to recount the news of the Tomkins, not without some pride, and leaving out the part where she’d shouted her head off.
‘Mind you,’ she finished, ‘Tomkins was probably more impressed in the end by the fact that his son had bloodied his school-friend’s nose than by my words of wisdom.’
‘Very likely,’ said Peter, aggravatingly.
‘But I do think the situation is under control now.’
‘That’s as it should be,’ said the older doctor, downing his Scotch. ‘Let nothing you dismay. Did I tell you about Mrs Mandeville?’
‘No,’ said Linda. She was obviously to get no praise from either man for her achievement.
‘Called yesterday evening, I did.’ He chuckled. ‘She told me to come in the afternoon, of course. Walked in the back door and tiptoed upstairs. There she was in bed with her husband. Such consternation. Don’t think she’ll invite me again! Great big, dark powerful man, he is. Leapt out of bed as if he’d been shot!’
When the laughter had subsided, Peter looked across at his father with admiration. ‘Now that’s the sort of behaviour of which I entirely approve! Maybe it’s going to be more fun in General Practice than I thought.’
‘I’ll run you to the station if you like,’ said Linda.
‘Good idea, he’s left it late as usual,’ said Cooper.
‘I’ll have my new wheels next time, so no sweat.’
Father and son shook hands with affection, then Linda walked Peter across the yard to her car.
‘My father certainly knows how to cope with an awkward situation. You should take notes.’
‘Oh, I do,’ said Linda. ‘I admire him very much.’ As they settled into the car, she added, ‘Oh, by the way, Mrs Mandeville’s husband was in my surgery the other day with some small ailment. He’s a short, fair man, actually.’
Peter chuckled appreciatively. Linda cruised out of the yard, then zoomed off down the road.
‘I can see you could be a force to be reckoned with,’ remarked Peter, and laid his arm along the back of her seat.
Chapter Three
THE CONNOISSEUR
‘It looks like ’flu. There’s a lot of it about just now. You must stay in bed and ‒’
‘But I’m going to London tomorrow, Grandfather promised!’
‘I’m afraid not, my dear.’
Linda looked down at her young patient and saw tears well up in her eyes. The little girl was small for her ten years and looked lost in the four-poster bed.
‘Please, Mrs Dibley!’ The child turned appealingly to an elderly woman who stood by her pillow.
‘You heard what Doctor Ford said, Erica.’
‘Please, Doctor. I’ll miss Daddy.’
Linda shook her head and patted Erica’s shoulder sympathetically.
The two women walked from the room, Linda giving some medical instructions to Mrs Dibley, who noted them with meticulous care.
‘The poor child doesn’t get the chance to see her father much, living so far away; only when her grandfather will take her up ‒ and he doesn’t care to very often. Her mother’s in America. There was a divorce, you know.’
Mrs Dibley lowered her voice on the last words as they were approaching a pair of elegant double doors.
‘Perhaps the visit could be delayed a few days,’ suggested Linda. ‘She may not get it very badly and ‒’
‘Oh, that wouldn’t be possible,’ said Mrs Dibley. ‘The Commander never changes his plans.’
They had stopped at the doors.
‘I wonder if you would tell the Commander about his granddaughter, Doctor. I’m sure you would explain it better.’
She’s afraid of the old man, thought Linda. And yet she must have been housekeeping for him for years. Amazing.
Linda realised it wasn’t so amazing, however, when she was ushered into the gentleman’s presence. He stood up as she came in and as he towered over her, straight-backed, and gimlet-eyed, she felt a little awed herself.
‘This is Doctor Ford, Commander,’ said Mrs Dibley. ‘She’s just seen Erica. This is Commander Hewson-Laws, Doctor.’
‘Ford?’
‘How do you do,’ said Linda politely. ‘I’m here in Stoke Dabenham for six months as Doctor Cooper’s locum. When he knew I was calling here at Westbrook House he sent you his regards.’
‘Hm. You’re very young. Your first experience of General Practice I imagine?’
Linda felt resentment well up in her, although the supposition was, of course, correct.
‘Your granddaughter has ’flu, Commander. I understand you were taking her to London tomorrow. She’s very disappointed.’
‘Can’t say the same myself. Blessed girl always gets car-sick. Well, it can’t be helped. You’ll take care of her, Mrs Dibley?’
‘Of course, sir, doctor’s given me all the orders.’
‘Anything she needs ‒’
‘Yes, sir. Leave it to me.’
He glanced at Linda and must have read some disapproval in her face, for he added, ‘I have an important auction to attend.’ As he spoke he ran his fingers over a jade carving on the desk beside him, and Linda remembered that Doctor Cooper had mentioned the Commander was an antique collector of some distinction.
‘I’ll be calling again, Mrs Dibley,’ said Linda, turning towards the door. ‘Good afternoon, Commander.’
‘Give my compliments to Doctor Cooper. I’ll be away ten days. Tell him we’ll have dinner together when I get back.’
Mrs Dibley opened the door for Linda, then turned back.
‘There’s just one little matter, Commander,’ she began.
Linda waited. It was obvious the woman welcomed her presence for moral support.
‘What now, Mrs Dibley?’
‘My young niece. You had given me permissi
on to have her here while you were both away, you remember, sir?’
‘Well?’
‘I’m afraid it’s rather late to make other arrangements for her.’
‘Then she’ll have to come, won’t she?’
‘It’s the school holiday and what with her parents being abroad. I’ll keep her in my quarters, of course.’
‘Yes, yes, Mrs Dibley, I rely on you.’
Thus dismissed, Mrs Dibley showed Linda into the hall.
‘Is there nowhere else your niece can go, Mrs Dibley?’
‘There isn’t, Doctor. I wish there were. Still, Jenny’s a sturdy girl.’
‘Well, keep her out of the sick-room. We’ve quite a little epidemic on our hands right now.’
When she went in to surgery that evening, Linda gave John Cooper the Commander’s message.
‘How did you get on with him?’ said Cooper quizzically. ‘He’s a remarkably interesting man, you know. Nothing he doesn’t know about old porcelain. His best pieces are locked away in the long gallery. You must get him to show you sometime.’
‘I don’t think I’ll bother!’
John Cooper smiled.
‘I’ll insist he includes you in his invitation to dinner, Doctor Ford.’
‘Please!’ Linda threw up her hands in mock alarm.
‘Which reminds me, come to supper Saturday night. My son will be down for the weekend. He keeps me up to date with things, you know.’
This paragon of a medical man who’d never put a foot wrong during his training and passed all his exams with flying colours first time of trying! So they were to be honoured with another visit, Linda thought.
‘I’d love to,’ said Linda. ‘If my cold doesn’t develop.’
‘Heavens, don’t you go down with it, girl!’
Linda assured him she wouldn’t. Nevertheless, a few days later as she was making her calls, Linda felt an ominous tickling in her throat, her medical bag felt three times its normal weight, and she found herself more than usually sympathetic with her ’flu patients.
At Westbrook House when she called, Erica was much improved and already up and about.
‘They can get over things so quickly when they’re young,’ said Mrs Dibley.
‘Yes,’ agreed Linda hoarsely. ‘But don’t let her go outdoors yet awhile.’
The Country Doctor: Captivating tales from a young GP's case notes Page 4