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

by Jean McConnell

  As she expected, Linda’s morning had been very busy and she’d only had time to wash her hands and change her working shirt-blouse into a smarter one before the meal. But at least John Cooper seemed to be back on form again.

  So Linda was slightly taken aback when Peter suddenly brought it into the conversation that he would be joining the Practice quite soon. Although she had known the day would come, Linda still found it a bit of a shock. She could see now that for all his casual manner, Peter was far from unobservant and had been keeping an eye on his father’s health for some time.

  ‘I’m fit as a flea!’ protested John Cooper.

  ‘Fitter, probably,’ said Peter. ‘But this has sort of brought things to a head.’

  ‘I won’t say I’ll not be pleased to have you down here,’ said his father, with a pat on Peter’s arm.

  ‘I’ve had my flat on the market for some time and at last there’s a buyer interested. So I should think I’ll come down by the end of the month.’

  ‘That will suit very well, won’t it, Linda?’ said John Cooper.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Linda, her voice very businesslike. ‘That will just fit in with the end of my contract.’

  ‘Oh. Ah. Yes.’ John Cooper sat back in his chair with a thoughtful frown.

  Peter was calmly helping himself to more apple pie.

  ‘What about your work at the hospital?’ asked Linda.

  ‘Oh, I finished up officially before I went sailing.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘They’ve still been finding me plenty to do though. And I’ve had a few ends to tie up, of course.’

  The two men chatted on, while Linda’s thoughts roved. She must force her mind away from this Practice and towards a new appointment for herself. Tonight, in the flat, she’d do some serious thinking.

  She was jerked back to conversation as John Cooper said: ‘Is Susan’s arm better now?’

  ‘Oh yes, mending fine. Could have been worse. She would tear off down the Black Run. At the end of the day. Tired out. I warned her. But you know Susan.’

  So it had been a mixed party, thought Linda. This ‘Susan’, whose name sometimes dropped so casually into the dialogue, had been part of it. Perhaps it had just been a party for two ‒ Peter and Susan.

  Why did it give her such a pang? Why did this talk of this other friend of Peter’s, whom she had never met, and could not know whether they were close or not, make her feel alienated. Already, she felt herself withdrawing from this whole situation. The end of the month! Perhaps in another six months this would all be a memory ‒ the Practice, the kindness of the old doctor, her friendship with Peter. Nothing but an experience to be remembered and put to good use. Nevertheless, it had all meant a lot to her.

  She looked up at Peter and found him eyeing her curiously. She smiled at him and he smiled back warmly. Whatever happened now she wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

  ‘Is your car all right now, Linda?’ asked John Cooper.

  ‘Good as new. Thanks to Peter. I’d never have suspected what it was.’

  ‘And what was it?’

  Peter told the story of the bun and John Cooper rocked with laughter.

  ‘And I thought they were admiring it. Interested in M.G.s!’

  ‘They probably were. I expect it was a sudden inspiration.’

  ‘I don’t think I’d better mention the matter to Mr Beale,’ said Linda.

  ‘I shouldn’t if I were you ‒ they’ll probably get six of the best!’ said Peter.

  ‘In this case I think the punishment would probably fit the crime,’ observed the doctor.

  ‘Next time you visit Yelchester, give my love to Alice Beale,’ remarked Peter, rising to leave.

  Linda looked at him. He was wearing a mock-lecherous expression.

  ‘Ha!’ commented his father.

  ‘She’s not my father’s favourite lady,’ explained Peter, ‘because she talks to him as if she’s four years old. He’s always afraid she’s going to perch on his knee and gurgle. But it’s different with me. She once got me in a dark cupboard and there was nothing childish about that!’

  So for Peter she’d played the femme fatale, mused Linda. Certainly the lady suited herself to the occasion.

  Linda next saw the Beales about ten days later. It was no more than a routine visit as Henry Beale was progressing well.

  Paul Henderson was also in the room when Linda arrived. When he saw who it was he nodded politely to her and began to make his departure. He collected up some papers, which he and Henry Beale had obviously been discussing.

  ‘Will you kindly see these are put away in the top drawer of my desk, Henderson?’ said Beale. ‘If they’re left lying about here they’re certain to get mislaid.’

  It was a casual enough remark, but could be construed as a criticism of Mrs Beale. Linda shot her a look and observed that she had taken it as such. She turned away from her husband and fixed Henderson with a meaning look, her eyes large with humiliation and pain.

  Paul Henderson went white and carried the papers out of the room without a word.

  Very soon Mrs Beale followed him out.

  Henry Beale seemed unaware of any atmosphere and discussed his condition with Linda, expressing his usual impatience with it.

  ‘How are the preparations going for your move?’ asked Linda, ready to scotch any rash plans her patient might have in mind.

  ‘I’ll deal with them as soon as I’m about.’

  ‘You mustn’t take on too much, you know.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I shall get a firm in, if I can find the right one.’

  ‘Mrs Perry mentioned a good one the other day. Would you like me to get the name and phone your wife ‒’

  Beale interrupted sharply. ‘I shouldn’t bother with Mrs Beale, she’s not capable of handling this sort of organisation.’ He sounded bitter. There was no doubt he believed his wife inadequate in practical matters, but Linda remembered Mrs Perry saying that the woman could be perfectly efficient when necessary.

  ‘Mr Beale,’ ventured Linda. ‘Do you think it might be possible that you are underestimating your wife?’

  ‘She play-acts at life,’ he said, with perception.

  ‘And you think the role of Headmaster’s wife is out of her range?’

  Henry Beale frowned. He became thoughtful. Very soon Linda took her leave.

  ‘I’ve some pills for you in the car. I forgot them. I’ll bring them up,’ she said and went into the next room, where she found Henderson and Mrs Beale in intimate conversation.

  Mrs Beale immediately broke off and accompanied Linda downstairs. Henderson stared after her for a moment then wheeled about and made for Beale’s room.

  In the hall, Mrs Beale was intercepted by a small boy and she remained listening to him whilst Linda collected the pills and returned upstairs to deliver them.

  As she entered the room she was brought up short by the sight of Paul Henderson in the act of lighting a cigarette for Henry Beale.

  ‘Stop!’ Linda stepped over promptly and, removing the cigarette, threw it into the wastebasket. ‘Mr Beale, I thought you understood that smoking was against orders. If you choose to ignore medical advice you will most certainly hamper your recovery and may well do yourself grave harm.’

  She turned on her heel and went out to find Mrs Beale. Why do I always sound so pompous when I’m enraged, she thought. The schoolmasters had looked quite abashed. She found Mrs Beale coming upstairs.

  Linda repeated her warning, angrily.

  ‘Please let your friends know about this smoking rule,’ she urged.

  Mrs Beale looked dumbfounded. ‘But Paul did know,’ she said. ‘I told him myself how dangerous it would be for Henry to smoke.’

  The two women looked at each other, both realising that the young schoolmaster could only have done it with intent to harm.

  At that moment Henderson appeared and Mrs Beale flew at him in fury. He stood rock-still in amazement as she accused him wildly of
attempting to injure her husband ‒ if not murder him. She burst into hysterical tears.

  ‘But I did it for you,’ he cried. He was staring at her in bewilderment. She shook her head. ‘We love each other,’ he said, catching her shoulders.

  ‘You’re mistaken,’ she said.

  ‘But he was a brute to you ‒ a brute!’

  ‘You’re mistaken!’

  They both stopped dead.

  They’ve both been playing a game, thought Linda. A dangerous game ‒ and now they both know it.

  Henderson’s hands fell from her and he walked off, without a backward glance.

  Mrs Beale turned to Linda and brushed back her hair.

  ‘Poor boy,’ she said calmly. ‘He must have been jealous of my husband’s promotion.’ And Linda could see that she had already begun to believe it. ‘My husband is so dedicated and idealistic,’ the woman went on, leading the way back upstairs. ‘He’s very vulnerable to the worldliness of lesser men.’

  Finding the box of pills still in her hand, Linda followed her.

  In Henry Beale’s room she at once hurried across to his side and fluttered round him bestowing words of comfort and protection.

  For once her husband did not brush her aside. Instead he was regarding her with speculation. He accepted without retort her admonishment about the smoking, submitted to having his legs tucked round with the rug and then brought up the subject of their move.

  ‘Doctor Ford’s offered to telephone through the name of a recommended removal firm,’ he said. ‘There’ll be a great deal to do, Alice, and I’ll need all your support.’

  He’s pondered my words, thought Linda, and is shrewd enough to be giving it a try. And he’s lucky, because it’ll fit in exactly with Mrs Beale’s current portrayal.

  Linda was right. Mrs Beale tweaked at her husband’s cushions with authority. ‘We’ll get you well first, my dear, then tackle your new appointment together.’ She looked up at Linda aglow.

  ‘Heaven knows he needs taking care of,’ she said.

  ‘She’s got her lead part at last,’ remarked Linda to Doctor Cooper that evening, as they drank a late cup of tea together.

  ‘Let’s hope they have a long run.’

  ‘It might work out,’ said John Cooper, ‘if he can continue to give her confidence in herself.’

  ‘Not everybody has that special ability,’ said Linda. She looked over at the older doctor gratefully. But he was gazing into the fire unaware.

  Chapter Seven

  TESTING TIMES

  Her tyre screeched as Linda applied the brakes sharply at the STOP sign. She had not taken in fully the warning notice as she passed it. Fool! Her mind had been wandering. A driver wagged a finger at her and she ruefully pretended to shoot herself in the head. He shrugged. He’s dismissing me as another stupid young woman driver, thought Linda. He’d probably give up if he knew I was meant to be a responsible doctor who’s been in General Practice tending the sick populace for half a year.

  Her six months contract was now at an end and she was actively seeking a new job. For the last three days she’d been in London for just this purpose, staying with her parents. And now she was speeding back to the West Country and would probably make it for evening surgery. She had not yet left for good, as Peter was still busy moving in.

  She pushed the problem of her future to the back of her mind and concentrated on the road. Somewhere along the route, she knew, Peter was also travelling. But she’d seen no sign of his BMW and had no idea whether he was ahead of or behind her.

  She was held up a long time near Exeter and soon realised she was going to be much later than she had intended. She felt guilty. Surgery would probably be over by the time she arrived.

  But it wasn’t. The waiting room was still occupied by six people, four of them were her patients. They brightened as she entered. This surprised and pleased her. She was still modest enough to expect any of them to prefer the opportunity to see the senior doctor. But she was coming to find that some, particularly some of the younger women, quite favoured a woman doctor.

  When the last patient had left, John Cooper came into her consulting room and invited her to take a glass of sherry with him. They went through to his lounge and sank into his deep winged chairs. She saw that he looked extremely tired.

  ‘Another twelve patients registered while you were away,’ he said.

  ‘That must mean they’ve moved into those two new roads on the estate?’

  He nodded.

  Four more small factories had recently been erected and another was being finished in a valley a few miles south and gradually the employees were filling up the considerable complex of well-designed dwellings that had been built nearby for the purpose. It would soon be quite a township.

  ‘I was intrigued by a certain patient of yours called Mrs Fenwick,’ said John Cooper. ‘She said you had told her to bring her baby for another visit. I must say I couldn’t see anything in the least wrong with it myself, but perhaps it’s made a miraculous recovery.’

  He regarded Linda under his bushy eyebrows.

  ‘You’re right, of course, Doctor Cooper,’ admitted Linda. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the baby. It’s the mother I’m bothered about. She moved on to the estate two months ago. I wondered very much when she kept bringing in a perfectly healthy baby and at last I got to the bottom of it. The girl’s desperately lonely. She was coming simply for someone to talk to. Her husband’s working long hours to get the new factory going and she’s made no friends yet. She’s come from a little street in a London suburb where she knew everyone and everything here is overwhelmingly strange.’

  ‘Hm.’ Doctor Cooper took a sip of sherry. ‘Well, I understand what you were doing, of course, but I must say I found it a little irritating with a waiting room full of really sick cases.’

  His tone was not censuring but Linda sensed a hint of criticism. It was a pity Sandra Fenwick had come that busy day. She hadn’t normally taken up much time.

  ‘Doctor Cooper,’ began Linda, very earnestly, ‘I really do consider it wise to keep an eye on Mrs Fenwick. She’s in a rather nervous and depressed state.’

  John Cooper gave a grunt and subsided. Linda wasn’t sure whether he approved of her method but she knew he appreciated that she was in command of the situation.

  ‘You didn’t see my son Peter on the road?’ he asked, turning to lighter matters.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I suppose he’ll turn up at some ungodly hour. Well, I’ll not be waiting up. He can scratch about in the fridge for his supper.’

  Linda smiled. She knew well that Elsie Peach would have left ample provisions tucked away for Peter. She only hoped she’d remembered to leave a snack over in the stable flat for Linda to go back to. Elsie made a wonderful veal-and-ham pie and Linda wondered whether she might expect to find a portion of this allotted to her. Even if not, Elsie’s sandwiches were in a class on their own; and maybe there’d be fruitcake ... Really she was feeling dreadfully hungry.

  ‘Were your parents well?’ enquired Doctor Cooper.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Linda, finishing her sherry. ‘We had a long talk about the dairy. It seems the Development Company is certainly going to buy them out. But the price has not yet been decided.’

  ‘The day of the small man is over I sometimes think,’ mused Cooper.

  ‘It is in that part of London,’ agreed Linda. ‘Happily, Mum and Dad do not seem to mind at all. They’ve put in a good many years now and worked all hours with the milk round and the shop, I think they’re looking forward to a rest.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said the older doctor. ‘A rest!’ The word sparked off in him a gigantic yawn. ‘Excuse me.’

  Linda rose, then found herself overcome by a matching gape. They both laughed.

  ‘Goodnight, Doctor Cooper.’

  Linda crossed the yard of the big house and climbed hopefully up to the flat. There was a tray on the table with a white napkin protecting it. Linda lift
ed the corner. Elsie had turned up trumps again.

  I’m going to be sorry to leave this place for a good many reasons, reflected Linda. She had, of course, omitted to mention to John Cooper the subject that had dominated her parents’ conversation ‒ their daughter’s next post. In this respect her trip to London had been unproductive.

  Some time during the night Peter eventually arrived and there was a message from him on her desk when Linda went over to her consulting room to take morning surgery. It read: ‘Some friends of mine are giving a party at Whitring tonight. They’d like you to come. Are you free? The atrocities begin at nine!’

  Linda telephoned through on the extension and got Elsie who went in search of Peter. A few minutes later his sleepy voice came through.

  ‘You got me up,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry. But I’ll be up to my eyes in a minute. About the party. I’d love to come but I’ve surgery here and a stack of calls to make.’

  ‘Come late.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘I’ll come back and collect you.’

  ‘No don’t. Give me the address and I’ll do my best to get there. It would be fun.’

  ‘Of course it would. You can’t work all the time.’

  ‘You should see our appointments list!’

  Linda rang off. Wait till you’re in my seat, she thought.

  It was true, as Mrs Perry confirmed when she brought in an armful of dossiers.

  ‘You’ll be going out to Pretting later, will you Doctor Ford?’ said Mrs Perry.

  ‘Yes,’ said Linda, remembering that she also had a two-hour stint to do at the little outpost surgery.

  ‘There you are then,’ said Mrs Perry, and passed over another batch of records. ‘I hope you had a nice trip to London, but we’re certainly glad you’re back!’ She smiled suddenly before whisking out of the room.

  She should do that more often, thought Linda. It makes her look quite pretty.

  Linda flexed her shoulder-blades purposefully. Then she stretched out a finger and buzzed for the first patient.