‘You see, Linda, I never used to come down so often. Something keeps drawing me down lately. Can’t imagine what it is.’
‘Nor can I,’ said Linda. ‘I’d hate to think it was just to bully me.’
‘Be kind to me, Linda. Be forgiving. I’m off to foreign parts tomorrow, who knows what might befall me.’
‘Oh. For long?’
At once he’d taken her hand. ‘Ages! A week! New York is a terribly dangerous city. I could be mugged, robbed of all I possess ‒’
‘If I know you, they’d end up giving you all they possess. You’ll have a ball in New York.’
‘It’s a conference, Linda.’
‘That won’t stop you.’
‘You’re right. Come with me!’
‘Oh Peter!’
‘All right. Reject me ‒ spurn me ‒ but say I’m forgiven.’
He stood looking so abject and appealing that Linda laughed and threw her arms around him.
‘Have a nice trip,’ she said.
Peter kissed her warmly. ‘See you when I get back,’ he said, meaningfully. Then throwing her a wink over his shoulder, he marched off.
Linda watched him out of sight. A whole week in New York. He could meet anybody.
Chapter Five
THE MARTYRS
Linda Ford and John Cooper stood just inside the door of the waiting room and surveyed it critically. The painter climbed down off his ladder and joined them. With a flourish of his brush he presented his handiwork to the two doctors.
‘Like it, sir?’
John Cooper turned to Linda.
‘I hope you’re right about the colour.’
‘You wait, Doctor Cooper. It’s going to look very elegant and cheerful,’ said Linda firmly. At least this was an area where she felt more than a match for the senior doctor. The mushroom walls and white woodwork already gave her pleasure, and she was quite looking forward to putting up the new apricot curtains they were having made.
‘I think Doctor Ford’s right, sir. I’ve got to agree. Yes, very nice choice it’s turned out,’ said Bill Mullett, and mounted his ladder again. He was a pleasant young man, but the cheerful confidence of his manner was somewhat belied by a muscular twitch under his eye.
‘He’s making a good job of that,’ said Linda, as she and Doctor Cooper walked through to the hall.
‘Keen to please,’ said Cooper. ‘He’s recently started in business on his own.’
‘Pity about that nervous tick under his eye. It’s only recent I believe.’
‘Yes. Probably anxious about his work. Or maybe there’s a domestic problem.’
‘Oh not that, I think,’ said Linda quickly. ‘It’s a happy little household. I’ve attended the baby.’
‘Doesn’t the mother-in-law live with them?’
‘Yes, but she’s the kindest little body and devoted to them all.’
‘Well. Then let’s hope his venture prospers,’ commented John Cooper, and went into his study.
Linda was on her way back to her flat over the old stables, when she met Miss Andrews delivering the new curtains. Her frail figure stooped with its burden and Linda hurried to take it.
‘You shouldn’t have carried them, Miss Andrews.’
‘It was nothing, Doctor ‒ just from the other end of the village.’
Linda knew Miss Andrews had a brother who lived at home and wondered why he couldn’t have done the job.
‘I do hope they’re all right. Such a happy colour.’
‘What have you done to your finger, Miss Andrews?’ asked Linda, noticing the rough bandage.
‘Tch! I ran the needle through it.’ Then seeing Linda’s frown she smiled. ‘Oh Doctor, you’re not a proper seamstress until you’ve run the needle through yourself a couple of times!’
‘You’d better let me take a look.’
‘It’s quite all right. I only wrapped it up because my brother can’t stand the sight of anything like that.’
‘Nevertheless.’ Linda led her into the surgery.
It was a nasty jag and the nail was rapidly blackening. After it was dressed, Linda gave Miss Andrews a tetanus injection, and was startled at the thinness of the woman’s limbs.
‘Phew!’ exclaimed Miss Andrews, weakly, smoothing back a grey hair. Then she pulled herself together and put on her coat.
As she was leaving, Bill Mullett was packing up to slip home for his lunch, and offered to drop her off at the wisteria-hung house where she lived.
‘Time you had it painted,’ said Bill jovially.
‘Oh I don’t think I could afford it,’ said Miss Andrews regretfully.
‘Pity to let a nice place like that deteriorate.’
He wasn’t just seeking work, he was right, Linda knew. Miss Andrews’ house was a small Georgian gem, and Linda always admired it when she drove past.
As the van swerved out of the gate, Miss Andrews clinging to the upholstery, John Cooper emerged from his study.
‘Linda!’
Linda went back into the hall.
‘Was that Miss Andrews I just saw in the drive?’
‘Yes. She was delivering the curtains.’
‘She doesn’t look well.’
‘She’s certainly very thin. Has she always been like that?’
‘She was never a robust build even as a girl but now ‒ she wears herself out looking after that brother of hers.’
Linda looked at Cooper curiously. It wasn’t like him to appear interested in his patients’ personal lives, although she suspected his concern went deeper than he ever revealed.
‘I know the family well,’ he explained, seeing her expression. ‘Mary Andrews was a very lovely girl and I’ve seen her wither away to a lonely, exhausted woman in her efforts to satisfy Stuart. She waits on him hand and foot, and if ever a man took advantage of a sister’s devotion!’ John Cooper broke off angrily.
He turned and retreated into his study. Linda was startled. It was the first time she had seen Doctor Cooper lose his usual calm control.
A few days later, Bill Mullett, who was now working on outdoor window-frames, came in to see Linda. His mother-in-law had taken to her bed with pains in the chest and he was worried about her. Linda said she’d call.
‘Thanks,’ said Bill. ‘Here, by the way, I took a bit of sewing round to Miss Andrews this morning ‒ the wife wants some new loose covers ‒ and that finger of hers looks festered to me.’
‘She hasn’t been in about it,’ said Linda.
‘She wouldn’t ‒ till it dropped off! I just thought I’d mention it.’
‘I’ll be seeing her today to settle for the curtains, so I’ll check that finger at the same time.’
Later it occurred to Linda that John Cooper might like to make this particular call himself and she suggested it.
‘Out of the question,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m the last person welcome in that household!’
Linda knocked on the door, appreciating the elegant brass dolphin that formed the knocker.
After a moment, the door swung open and a man stood before her. He was small-eared and pale-eyed and he leant on a walking stick. He looked down at the envelope in Linda’s hand, rightly surmised what it was, and held out his hand with a brief nod.
‘I’d rather like to see Miss Andrews, if I may,’ said Linda.
‘My sister is busy.’
‘It won’t take a moment.’
The man hesitated an instant, then stepped aside for Linda to enter and called back into the house.
Mary Andrews came out of a side room with a distracted air, a pair of scissors in her hand. When she saw who it was she showed Linda into a charming lounge. Stuart Andrews followed and seated himself in a deep chair by the French windows where the sun played round his head like a halo, ill fitting his scowling face.
Linda was soon attending to Miss Andrews’ finger.
‘A spot of penicillin will probably clear it up in no time. You were foolish not to come and see me.’
&nb
sp; ‘I know,’ said Miss Andrews, ‘but I’ve so much work outstanding, I couldn’t find a minute.’
Linda turned to Stuart. ‘If it’s no better in a couple of days, you must send her along.’
‘She does as she likes,’ he said ungraciously.
Linda packed up her bag. She glanced round the room. ‘This really is a delightful house, Miss Andrews. You must be very fond of it.’
Mary Andrews shot an alarmed look towards her brother.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, indeed.’
‘It’s the most beautiful house in the village,’ said Stuart. ‘She never appreciated it.’
‘That’s not true, Stuart,’ said Miss Andrews. ‘It’s a fact I never understood its architectural value, but it was home.’
‘Home!’ He spat out the word, and his sister sighed.
‘I’ve told you a million times, my dear, I don’t know why mother left it to me and not you.’
‘She always said it was to be mine.’
‘She did.’ Miss Andrews turned to Linda. ‘We’ll never know why she changed her mind. When Stuart came home from the lawyers and said it was mine, I was absolutely astounded. I only wish there’d been a little money to go with it; to keep it as we’d like to,’ she said ruefully.
‘I’ll never forgive her.’
Miss Andrews looked at him with gentle reproach. ‘Don’t speak like that, Stuart. After all you’ve not really lost anything. You’ve gone on living here and you know you always can. And I’ve done my best to make up to you for everything.’
The man turned away with a shrug. Miss Andrews began showing Linda to the door.
‘It was a terrible disappointment to him,’ she said, her eyes begging Linda to understand and forgive her brother’s churlishness.
The problem of property had never crossed Linda’s horizon but she supposed that people could dream of ownership and long for possession of a dwelling to which they were particularly devoted.
She volunteered as much to Doctor Cooper that evening when they were drinking coffee together after surgery. But he would have none of it.
‘Stuart Andrews is a selfish, twisted man.’
‘I suppose he was particularly attached to his mother and felt she betrayed him,’ suggested Linda.
‘She was certainly devoted to him and it was always a mystery why she left the house to Mary and not him, for she definitely favoured him ‒ though why I can’t imagine, he was always a beastly chap.’
‘He bears a terrible grudge, anyone can see that,’ said Linda. ‘What’s wrong with his leg?’
‘It would be interesting to know,’ said John Cooper. ‘One day he just took to limping. Whatever it is it’s mighty trivial.’
He really is prejudiced, thought Linda. She finished her drink and went back to the stable flat where she settled down to write home.
‘The weather is getting colder now,’ she wrote, ‘and there are great drifts of glowing leaves in the woods. I can see further from my window each day. Eventually, I fear, the new industrial estate being built over at Stoke Festing will be visible in the distance. Still, they’re planting trees round the factories. You see what a country-lover your city daughter is becoming. I feel myself to be settling in here pretty well and acquiring useful knowledge of my patients. Doctor Cooper is always helpful and does not, I think, believe me to be a complete fool. But his son, though he likes me personally, is not convinced! This may bring him into the partnership quicker than all his father’s entreaties. But not too soon, I hope, or all my careful spadework will be wasted.’
And I have worked hard, thought Linda, as she prepared for bed. I really have tried to understand the lives of these country folk and to get to know them really well so that they’ll trust me as they do Doctor Cooper.
Three weeks passed and Bill Mullett’s mother-in-law had just got over her bout of bronchitis, when Linda was called to her again. She’d sprained her ankle it seemed.
‘How long have you been in this pain?’ asked Linda.
‘Only a day or two,’ said the woman, wincing as she was touched. ‘I didn’t want to bother anyone.’
‘You should have got them to call me before,’ said Linda. ‘I can certainly ease it a little for you.’
Mrs Piggot smiled gratefully.
‘How did you do it?’
‘Well. Promise you won’t tell Bill and Muriel, because I wouldn’t want to upset them, but I fell off a chair while I was dusting the top of the wardrobe.’
‘It wasn’t necessary for you to do that surely?’ said Linda crossly. ‘Especially so soon after being ill.’
‘But they were so busy and I do like to help out about the place.’
‘Well they shouldn’t have let you. Now you’d better keep the leg rested for a day or two.’
‘Oh dear, what a nuisance I’m going to be to them,’ said Mrs Piggot anxiously. ‘And they’ve so much to do just now.’
Poor old thing, thought Linda, and felt quite hostile towards the Mulletts, who would seem to be getting rather over-preoccupied with their new business.
At the door Linda met Miss Andrews collecting more sewing from Mrs Mullett. ‘Although I haven’t finished the first lot yet,’ admitted the seamstress guiltily.
‘Hold on, I’ll give you a lift home,’ said Linda, and turned back to Muriel Mullett.
‘Your mother has pulled a ligament quite severely, please make sure she rests it.’ Linda spoke firmly.
‘I’ll try to,’ said the young woman, ‘but Mum hates to be idle.’
That’s a good excuse, thought Linda.
She guided Miss Andrews down the garden path and into the car. And ‘guided’ was the term for both then and when she alighted at her house. Miss Andrews seemed inclined to need direction, and twice she stumbled quite badly and had to be supported. But she assured Linda she felt perfectly well and waved her off with a cheerful smile.
Two more weeks passed before Linda, returning from a call, found the BMW in the yard. Why hadn’t Peter telephoned in all this time? I’ll ask them both over for supper tonight, she thought, and sent a message across via Elsie Peach to this effect, and received back word of acceptance.
The decision was impulsive and the fridge looked alarmingly empty. Linda grabbed a basket and set off for the village shops at a brisk trot. As she passed through the gate she caught sight of Peter hanging out of a top window, chatting with Bill Mullett who had graduated to the high guttering.
The butcher obliged her with a fine piece of pork and she packed it round with apples, onions and thyme and popped it in the oven. She knew old Doctor Cooper had a weakness for creamed potatoes so she prepared those and the fresh beans Elsie had brought from her garden. The village grocer had offered to bring up a block of ice-cream after he closed and Linda knew a recipe for butterscotch sauce that she herself had broken many a diet for.
Her kitchen was very small and towards zero hour seemed stacked from floor to ceiling with used saucepans. Linda pushed them into a corner, draped a tea towel over them and dived for the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she was welcoming in the Coopers, looking cool and elegant in cream crepe with copper bangles ‒ and only one fingernail smudged ‒ which was pretty good going.
The two men were gratifyingly complimentary on the meal and Peter kept them amused by his adventures in New York. As the father and son threw back their heads in laughter, Linda thought again how alike they were and was aware of the warm surge of affection she felt for both.
Taking the opportunity to follow her into the kitchen carrying empty plates, Peter shut the door behind him and kissed her lightly on the neck.
‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again. Have you missed me?’
‘Yes I have,’ said Linda, honestly.
‘It’s been wild at the hospital. I’ve only slipped down now for a vital chat with the old man. And I’ve a stack of people I have to see locally.’
Linda forced a smile on to her face. ‘Well ‒ so long as you’re flo
urishing. And I can see you are.’
She led the way out of the room with the next course. She felt unsure of herself and disappointed that Peter was apparently not going to allot her any of his time on this visit.
The conversation turned to the new decorations to the surgery. Peter approved of the colours.
‘And now the rest of the house must be done,’ said John Cooper. ‘This job alone should get Bill Mullett well started on the road to success, if it breaks me in the process!’
‘He and his wife are certainly throwing their back into things,’ said Peter. ‘I had a chat to him. I think he’ll do well.’
‘Yes,’ said Linda. ‘As long as he doesn’t kill his mother-in-law in the process. I suspect she’s getting rather put upon. They’re very lucky to have her running the house and coping with the child so that they can be free to operate the business, you know. After all, she’s brought up one family and might expect to sit back a bit. But she’s obviously completely devoted to them and utterly unselfish.’
‘She sounds rather tiresome,’ said Peter, making a joke.
But Linda flushed with irritation.
Even though he hung back at the door to whisper to her that she looked lovely, Linda felt unable to respond. Maybe she had read too much into his light flirtation. Earlier on, Doctor Cooper had given her the hint that his son took full advantage of his attractions for the opposite sex. She was probably one of a number of conquests. Conquest? There hadn’t been one in the fullest sense and she was glad everything had been light-hearted.
She must view it as something pleasant that had helped to speed her recovery from the blues and take an interest in life again. And Peter had certainly done that.
She must keep control. Enjoy Peter’s delightful company whenever it was on offer. If he wanted it all to be superficial then that’s how they’d play it. Maybe he wasn’t a person who had very deep feelings anyway. She remembered his remark at table. Hadn’t that been pretty cynical?
But she had cause to reflect on this again when a conversation with Bill Mullett the very next day threw fresh light on his domestic scene.
The young man looked thoroughly fed-up and glad to let off steam to someone.
‘My mother-in-law took a pile of accounts with her to post and lost the lot on the bus. She was on her way to physiotherapy. She would take them, thinking she’d save me time. And she would take the bus though I wanted to run her in by car. Twice she got stuck at the bus stop in the rain and now she tells me this morning she left all my accounts on the bus last week. She didn’t tell me before in case it worried me! She was hoping someone would find them and post them. Well they didn’t!’
The Country Doctor: Captivating tales from a young GP's case notes Page 8