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

by Jean McConnell

  Linda had expected something more demonstrative ‒ felt sure he had intended more ‒ yet that moment standing there silently in key with each other had been oddly pleasing. And intriguing. Which is probably what he intended! she thought, as she put herself under a cool shower.

  A few days later a letter came to the hospital from Charles Prowse, offering a generous sum to support his father. The Matron told Linda about it on the telephone.

  ‘But it’s no good, Doctor Ford,’ she said. ‘The old boy will have none of it.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘I finally got the story out of him. It seems old Mr Prowse sold up his house fifteen years ago to finance his son in a business venture, throwing in all his savings to get the young man well started.’

  ‘He made good all right!’ said Linda.

  ‘Very likely, but do you know he never repaid his debt nor got in touch with his father from that day to this!’

  ‘No wonder the old fellow doesn’t want to know him.’

  ‘He refused the money point blank and says he doesn’t want anything more to do with his family in any way.’

  ‘But where’s he to go?’

  ‘Heaven knows. He’ll be out of here in a couple of days and insists on making his own way.’

  Later, Linda talked to Doctor Cooper about the matter.

  ‘It’s outrageous!’ she said angrily. ‘It’s quite obvious there’s more than enough room for the old man in his son’s house. They just don’t want the bother of him. Afraid it might complicate their social scene, I suppose!’

  ‘People aren’t obliged to house their elderly relatives, you know.’

  ‘More’s the pity!’ flashed Linda.

  ‘Rubbish! It’s by no means always the best thing. I suspect old Mr Prowse might have been utterly miserable living with his son.’

  ‘There’s such a thing as family feeling,’ said Linda, ‘look at Tom Greenway. He didn’t hesitate to shelter his nephew from the police ‒ though it was a dangerous thing to do.’

  ‘I would say the Greenways are a special case,’ observed John Cooper wryly.

  ‘They’re loyal to each other and goodhearted,’ defended Linda. ‘I know you think I’m emotional and idealistic, Doctor Cooper.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘But I just see an old man and his dog with no home to go to.’

  At this moment a call came through from Mrs Perry at the surgery, and both the doctors rose to go off on visits to patients.

  Despite Linda’s anxiety, old Mr Prowse did find a home to go to when he was discharged. The Greenways offered him accommodation with them, which he accepted, moving his small collection of neat belongings into the cottage, where they were rapidly absorbed into the general confusion.

  Some weeks later as Linda was tidying the stable flat she heard the familiar screech of brakes down on the cobbles and looked out to see Peter Cooper’s car come to a halt in the yard. Knowing that his father had gone to a meeting, she called out of the window inviting him to come in for a coffee. He accepted enthusiastically and climbed the stairs, smoothing back his hair which was standing on end from the wind.

  ‘It was such good weather,’ he said, ‘I thought I’d pop down and see how the boss was doing.’

  He settled back in the chintz-covered sofa and began talking about his work in the hospital, in which he was obviously deeply interested. Linda wondered whether John Cooper would ever lure his son down to join him in this country practice, and was surprised to feel quite a pang at the thought that if he did it would mean that she would go. She knew she was temporary but she also knew she was getting very attached to the place.

  ‘I enjoyed that Ball in Plymouth,’ Peter was saying, ‘even if we did get bogged down a bit by your over-active sense of responsibility.’

  He smiled and Linda grinned back ruefully. ‘Am I allowed to tell you the latest developments?’ she asked.

  ‘If you must. And you obviously must!’

  ‘It’s a squalid little cottage and wildly overcrowded but at least the Greenways made him welcome.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that!’ said Peter cheerfully, ‘now maybe everybody will leave the poor old chap alone as he wants ‒ instead of fussing over his welfare.’

  ‘But ‒’ began Linda.

  ‘He wants to be independent. Stop interfering! Is it possible there’s a sandwich lying about the place?’

  ‘Are you hungry? I’ll make you one.’

  ‘I knew you’d be concerned for my welfare,’ he said, and stretched out to rest as Linda made for the kitchen with a laugh.

  When he’d finished a tidy tea, Peter went over to the big house. Linda was called out to a farm accident the other side of Pretting and when she got back the Coopers had gone off to some friends for the evening. She took surgery and did not see anything of them again until the next day, when Peter came over to tell her that there had been a visit the previous evening while Linda was out.

  ‘And who do you think it was?’

  ‘I give up.’

  ‘That old Mr Prowse’s granddaughter. I thought you’d be surprised. Lucky I knew all about it as no-one was here. The daughter by Charles Prowse’s first wife, so she said. Anyway she introduced herself and said she’d heard her grandfather was ill and she wanted to contact him. Sharp little piece, she was. Been to the hospital but couldn’t get his address from them.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’ asked Linda, with interest.

  ‘I told her that her grandfather had expressed the wish not to see any of his family again and advised her to leave it at that.’

  ‘You did what!’

  ‘The old boy doesn’t want troubling, you know that. For that matter I’d no idea of his address anyway.’

  Linda was speechless. But only temporarily. ‘You astound me!’ she announced. ‘If that isn’t interfering in the old man’s affairs, what is!’

  ‘He said he didn’t want ‒’

  ‘That’s not the point. He should have been allowed to tell her himself if he didn’t want to see her. It’s a great pity you don’t practise what you are at such pains to preach!’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Peter rose angrily. ‘I can’t be doing with all this personal involvement. It gets in the way of efficiency ‒ as you’ll discover one day, Linda. And the sooner the better for this Practice!’ He strode back to the big house, and Linda let him go willingly.

  She began preparing her Sunday lunch, digging out the eyes of a potato quite savagely. But by the time it was all cooking, she had pushed the matter aside. She spent a pleasant half hour attending to her pot-plants then ate her meal with a medical journal propped up in front of her.

  The afternoon passed with letter writing and practice on John Cooper’s old mandolin which he had entrusted to her. She was off surgery and looking forward to a restful evening watching T.V.

  Then the bell rang.

  Linda trotted down the wooden stairs to the yard.

  At the lower door stood a young woman about the same age as Linda. She was dressed in a trouser suit which looked very smart on her tall slim figure. Her jaw was set aggressively and when she spoke her voice was determined.

  ‘Doctor Ford?’

  Linda nodded.

  ‘I was sent over from the big house. I hope you’re going to be able to help me. I’m Delia Parr and I’m trying to trace my grandfather, Henry Prowse. I’ve been to the hospital where he was ill recently and I called here yesterday ‒ both with no success. I’ve come back because I’m quite sure someone must know something of his whereabouts and I do not intend to be fobbed off!’

  ‘This is all the old man needs, thought Linda, and then thought guiltily about her spat with Peter. Now she understood. She felt like telling the girl to get lost herself! But she began politely.

  ‘It’s like this, Miss Parr ‒’

  ‘Mrs.’

  ‘Mrs Parr. Mr Prowse has said he doesn’t want to have any more to do with his family. That’s why, perhaps, no-one’s bee
n very helpful.’

  ‘Do you know his address?’

  ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘Please give it to me.’

  Of course I must, thought Linda. I’ve no right whatever to withhold it. She hesitated a moment trying to think how she was to describe the way to the spinney.

  The woman, aware of Linda’s reluctance, and mistaking the pause for a refusal, spoke again. But this time her voice was pleading.

  ‘Please! I’ve been here two days searching. I must go home this evening. I’ve left my two little girls with my husband but he has to work tomorrow, so I’ve no more time.’

  Linda could suddenly see that the face was tired and anxious under its careful make-up.

  ‘Mr Prowse is living with a family called Greenway. It’s a bit off the beaten track, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Your grandfather has already been offered money, you know, and he refused it,’ Linda warned.

  ‘I know!’ Her voice was cold again, but not towards Linda.

  ‘Have you got a car?’

  ‘No, I came by train.’

  ‘Oh.’ Linda made a decision. ‘Look here, I’d better run you there.’

  ‘I don’t want to trouble you like that.’

  ‘You’ll get lost for sure if I don’t,’ said Linda briskly. ‘Wait here, I just have to slip over to surgery. I’m not busy and it’s not that far ‒ just awkward.’

  Linda went over to tell Mrs Perry where she was going. She could have phoned through but she rather hoped to catch sight of Peter and make peace. But no luck. Oh well.

  John Cooper was just emerging from his consulting room.

  ‘I sent that young person over to you,’ he said. ‘Tough as nails, that one. The old boy certainly has a charming family!’

  ‘I think she was just determined to find him,’ said Linda.

  ‘Well, she’ll get a fair surprise when she does. I predict our swinging young lady will disappear as smartly as she came when she encounters the Greenway menage, which I imagine will be something of a shock.’

  It was. Linda could see that the moment the cottage door opened. Even before, as they picked their way under a line of half-hearted washing, Delia Parr grimaced.

  Mrs Greenway stood smiling at the entrance, the fragrance of old cabbage lingering about her. She greeted Linda warmly.

  ‘I’m afraid my Tom’s gone off with Joe in the old van; showing him round the countryside before he goes back to London tonight.’

  ‘No, it’s not Mr Greenway, it’s Mr Prowse we’ve come to see.’

  ‘Is it now? Well, step inside, I’m sure.’

  Linda went on, ‘Perhaps you’d tell him his granddaughter has come to call.’

  ‘I will. He’s just out the back.’

  She hurried off and the two visitors moved into the centre of the living room. Out of the corner of her eye Linda observed Delia Parr glancing round the room, taking in its peeling wallpaper ‒ the pattern enlivened by childish graffiti; its battered furniture and rubbish-strewn floor, amongst which the three children were playing. The two boys were pulling the baby around on an old rug ‒ a game which raised shrieks of laughter and clouds of dust. The ceiling was low and yellow with grease and smoke that had also taken toll of the curtains which had once perhaps been green.

  Delia Parr’s face had whitened.

  The old man came in, blinking through the gloom, and followed by the dog. He stopped dead.

  ‘Edith!’

  ‘No, Granddad, it’s Delia.’

  He stared bewildered. ‘Edith’s girl, oh yes.’ His eyes clouded over. ‘You’ve grown up so like her. So like her.’

  ‘You haven’t changed at all.’

  That’s hardly true, thought Linda, even since I saw him in hospital, he’s quite different. The spruce old man had become grimy and unkempt.

  The pair were sitting now and the old man was recalling shared memories. The dog squatted between his knees.

  ‘I’ll wait for you in the car,’ said Linda, and slipped out

  She didn’t have to wait long. Delia Parr got into the car without a word, slamming the door. Linda was aware she was shuddering.

  ‘The station?’ queried Linda, and received a curt nod.

  They set off.

  So Doctor Cooper had been right. The scene had been distasteful and Mrs Parr was taking to her heels.

  No further words were exchanged as Linda drove grim-faced to Stoke Dabenham. She was seething. All right, so the Greenways were a mucky lot and feckless, but they were warm-hearted and good-natured; with probably more family solidarity on their hearth than the Prowses would ever know! With some difficulty Linda restrained herself from proclaiming this fact. Instead, when they reached the station and drew up, she merely remarked: ‘I thought perhaps you had come to fetch your grandfather. I’ve been rather concerned about him.’

  ‘And so I had. So I had!’

  The words were so charged with emotion that Linda turned to look at the girl. Tears were running down her face.

  ‘How could my father have done it?’ She put her face in her hands. After a moment, she blew her nose and her chin grew firm again. ‘I came to take him home to live with us,’ she said.

  ‘Then why didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s a happy home in the spinney, Doctor Ford.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘For all it’s no palace, he’s content there. He must have a chance to think about it: the chance to refuse me with dignity if he’d sooner stay with the Greenways.’

  Linda could see she was sincere.

  ‘Would you do something else for me, Doctor?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Take a message to him telling him there’s room for him with us, and that my husband and children and I all want him very much.’

  ‘But the dog,’ queried Linda quickly. ‘Will you take it too?’

  ‘Whyever not?’ said Delia Parr, as if it was a silly question.

  ‘Tell him I’ll wait here till the last train goes.’

  Linda weaved her way along the narrow track through the trees towards the cottage.

  If only the old man has sense enough to see this offer is worthwhile, she hoped, and doesn’t go all stubborn and proud! If only he realises that his granddaughter is offering him affection and respect.

  Linda walked old Mr Prowse out into the darkened garden and gave him the message quite simply, and without offering her own opinion.

  ‘Well, Mr Prowse,’ she finished, ‘is the answer yes or no?’

  The old man turned on his heel. ‘Come on!’ he said and hurried indoors, calling out loudly for a clean shirt.

  Linda followed and found everyone diligently searching the house.

  ‘I’ll pack up my few traps while you find me that collar, Mrs Greenway, I’m going home with my granddaughter. And Buster too! You’re coming, old chap!’

  ‘Oh that’s lovely for you, Mr Prowse,’ said Mrs Greenway with pleasure, ‘she seemed such a nice girl. Now I washed that blue shirt, I know I did.’ She began hunting vaguely through a pile of biscuit tins. ‘Alfie, give doggie a brush and try and find his lead.’

  ‘You will give Mr Greenway my regards,’ said Mr Prowse, ‘and thank you both for your kind hospitality. Have I paid you up to date?’

  He settled his affairs and donated a coin each to the children.

  The shirt had still not come to light, and Alfie was driving the dog frantic with the hearth-brush.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Linda, feeling out of things. ‘You find Mr Prowse’s belongings.’

  The old man located his raincoat and struggled into it. His shoelace broke and a fresh search was started for another; and a piece of string to secure the dog.

  Linda began to get anxious about the time, but at last they got away, leaving the Greenways grouped at the door, shouting and waving farewells.

  Driving as fast as she dared, Linda aimed them for the station. Suppose the train had gone, after all this!
<
br />   It hadn’t. But it was at the platform and Linda bundled her passenger out and delivered him, dog and baggage, to his granddaughter, who hastily hauled everything on board. All three were giggling with relief.

  As Linda stepped back and the whistle blew, a figure brushed against her, bumping her with a heavy suitcase.

  ‘Beg pardon,’ said Tom Greenway’s nephew Joe, and leapt on to the train.

  Brimming with goodwill, Linda waved him off too.

  She was humming as she made her way home. End of story, she thought, and a happy one too.

  She was not prepared for the other little drama awaiting her.

  Doctor Cooper was standing on the doorstep with the local constable. He beckoned her over. It seemed that whilst she’d been out and he’d been busy in surgery, someone had broken into the house.

  ‘But I happened to go through for my other spectacles and disturbed him, so he didn’t get away with anything. Saw him beetling down the garden.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ said Linda, then waited, suspecting from Cooper’s expression that there was more to come.

  ‘Guess who it was?’ he said.

  ‘Er ‒ who?’

  ‘Joe Greenway.’

  Linda remembered the heavy suitcase.

  ‘No surprise,’ added the constable. ‘He usually comes down when things get too hot in London. Lays low with his relations for a bit, then has a quick whip round the district and scarpers up to the smoke again.’

  John Cooper looked at Linda quizzically.

  ‘Family solidarity,’ he remarked.

  That evening Peter apologised.

  ‘I’m truly sorry, Linda. I was quite rude to you.’

  ‘You were.’

  ‘I said unfair things.’

  ‘Yes, I think you did.’

  ‘I’ve felt wretched since.’

  ‘You’ll be able to handle things your way once you’re working down here, Peter. But meantime, I have to do what I believe to be best. And to have someone popping down on flying visits trying to tell me how I should behave ‒’

  Peter nodded in agreement. His head was bowed in contrition. But when he glanced up, his eyes were twinkling.