‘Her sister? Oh, she’s gone away. Hasn’t been seen for months.’
Linda didn’t take the subject further. Some instinct advised caution in this matter of the two strange sisters. In any case there was a sudden beating at the back door and Elsie rushed to open it. On the threshold stood a girl of about fifteen. Her skirt and jumper were snagged and her Wellingtons caked with mud. Her only attempt at teenage style were a few ornaments in her black hair.
‘Please! Dad’s scythed ’is leg ’alf off, and we can’t stop it bleedin’,’ she blurted out. ‘Surgery door’s closed an ‒’
‘Come with me,’ said Linda, and made off through the house, with the girl trotting behind her. ‘When did it happen?’
‘’E’d just come ’ome on the tractor. Ma said to bring Doctor Cooper, ’cos she can’t stop his bleedin’. She can’t stop ’im yellin’ either.’
‘What’s your name?’ asked Linda.
‘Polly Damerel.’
‘Damerel, ah. I think you’ve been taken on to Doctor Peter Cooper’s list, haven’t you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I think so. We’ll just see if he’s in, but if not I’ll come and see your father.’
Peter wasn’t in his room, so Linda grabbed her bag and steered Polly out into the yard, and into her car.
The Damerels’ home was a ramshackle old cottage at the end of a rutted lane. The M.G. slithered and bounced from side to side and Linda was grateful that it wasn’t a heavier car. As it was, she was sure it would get bogged down any minute. But at last they drew up at the cottage door. It opened straight into the main living room.
Linda entered, dodging nimbly under a low beam. The room was full of steam from a pan bubbling on the stove and heavy with the smell of wood-smoke.
‘You’ve a good stew going there,’ said Linda, coughing.
‘Just bones for the stock, me dear,’ said the woman who rose to greet her, setting aside a small child she’d been cuddling.
‘’Ere’s the leg, Doctor.’ She indicated a man sitting in the corner. ‘’E bled through two shirts and a pair of pants, so I thought I better send for a doctor.’
‘Quite right,’ said Linda, removing the dingy wrappings round the man’s leg. ‘How did you manage to scythe through your own leg, Mr Damerel?’
‘’E’s done it afore, Doctor,’ answered his wife. ‘’E’s done most things afore! It’s a wonder there’s any blood left in ’im.’
‘Plenty more where that came from,’ said Linda, beginning to deal with the leg. ‘But just watch one day he doesn’t saw through a main artery or that’ll be that!’
‘See, ’Arry? Take care, will you!’
‘I didn’t do it a-purpose,’ said her spouse, miserably.
‘That’s what Mr Watters thinks. The farmer ’e works for, Doctor,’ she added, in explanation.
‘Ah,’ said Linda.
‘’E thinks ’Arry’s idea is to recline ’ere in comfort.’
Linda glanced round at the ‘comfort’. The windows were cracked and their frames ill-fitting.
She had visited this cottage once before and knew it had no electricity, gas or main drainage. Yet the Damerels seemed to rub along happily enough. And Mrs Damerel was a resourceful woman.
‘The baby looks very well,’ said Linda, as she finished dressing the leg and rose to pack back her gear.
‘My dear life, that’s not the baby,’ laughed Mrs Damerel. ‘That’s Bobby. The baby’s out in the pram. And Peter ’as started school now. Just as Polly’s leavin’ it. She’s lookin’ for a job if you ’ear of somethin’.’
‘Well, there’s your leg, Mr Damerel,’ said Linda.
‘Put it on the chair, Dad,’ said Polly, ministering tenderly to her father.
‘We’ll want to change the dressing in a couple of days,’ said Linda. ‘Don’t forget now. It could get infected.’
Next day when Linda was enquiring after Elsie’s burn, she heard more about the Matlock sisters.
‘Have they lived all their lives in the village?’ Linda enquired casually.
‘Oh yes,’ said Elsie. ‘There was a bit of a palaver when Miss Flora Matlock’s husband died. She was married, you know, but not that long. In fact nobody got round to calling her by her married name. He moved into the Matlock home. Poor man. They say he never set foot in the house in his shoes. And not allowed to sit on the best chairs. She dusted and cleaned and polished the spirit right out of him. In the end he was just a pair of little pale eyes. Miss Harriet was very upset at his death. Took it as hard as if she’d been married to him herself. Felt a kindred spirit I suppose. Both of them trying to please Flora.’
‘What is Harriet like?’
‘Frail little woman. Very sweet. Not that I’ve seen her lately.’
Peter and Linda had supper together in the stable flat that evening, and Linda brought up the subject of the Matlocks.
‘I know you’re going to tell me not to rush in where angels ‒’
‘Not at all,’ said Peter. ‘If you think there is a genuine medical problem. But if it turns out that the two old girls are just playing games with each other, you’ll look a bit of a fool.’
‘I’m not afraid of that side of it,’ asserted Linda. ‘I’m even wondering if it’s a matter for the police.’
‘If you’re that worried ‒’
‘What I think I’ll do, is call at the house.’
‘On what pretext?’
‘I’ll think of something.’
‘Darling girl! The redoubtable Flora Matlock will probably eat you alive.’
‘You’d better go in my place!’
‘No fear.’
‘By the way, you got my note about Mr Damerel’s leg?’
‘Yes. Thanks for coping with it for me. I’ll go and take a look at him tomorrow. Draw me a map will you?’
‘It’s not too serious.’
Lunchtime the following day, when Linda called in at the big house, she found Peter nursing a bruise on his forehead and not in the best of moods.
‘What did I do?’ he cried in answer to her enquiry. ‘Only stepped into their cottage and knocked myself unconscious! Only just stopped them sending for a doctor! You can laugh! I came to with Mrs Damerel mopping my head with some unspeakable cloth and the whole family standing round staring.’
‘Were you able to dress Mr Damerel’s leg?’
‘Oh yes, when I could see what I was doing. The windows are too dirty to let in the light. The whole place is a complete pigsty. How the woman can raise children in it.’
‘Well, she seems to have managed. And they’re all fit enough.’
‘I told them they’ve simply got to clean the place up. It’s a serious health hazard!’
John Cooper had entered on Peter’s last words, and Peter turned to him.
‘That Damerel cottage ‒ it’s a disgrace! Something should be done!’
‘Have you let off steam?’ said the older man. ‘Now I’m not saying conditions there are right, but I suggest you hesitate before starting any hares. It’s a tied cottage, did you know?’
‘And there are four children there full of mischief. It’s sure to be untidy. But there’s no question of neglect, I’m sure,’ said Linda.
‘People can’t live in that fashion!’
‘They don’t seem to be coming to any harm.’
‘So we should wait until they do?’
I’ve heard those words somewhere before, thought Linda.
But John Cooper was speaking to his son with some gravity.
‘Peter, you can advise them and guide them ‒ bully them a bit if you like ‒ to try to get them to clean the place up. It’ll do them no harm ‒ in fact I doubt if it’ll make the least impression. But don’t be in any hurry to stir up authority.’
‘It’s only a matter of a little grime,’ said Linda. ‘If you’d been born in the part of London where I was, you’d be used to that sort of thing. Old properties aren’t easy to keep looking spotles
s. As long as a family is well fed and warm and loved ‒ Whatever you say, I’ve never believed that cleanliness is necessarily next to Godliness!’
And that’s a fact, thought Linda a few days later when to her surprise she found Flora Matlock attending her surgery with a sty on her eye. The woman was neat as a pin and had the sourest face Linda had ever seen. She was cold-voiced and spoke to Linda in a manner that was barely polite. But Linda ministered to her with the utmost care and attention, knowing that Fate had dealt her a very useful card indeed.
She left it a couple of days, then presented herself on the doorstep of Simba, the Matlocks’ house, where she found herself faced across the gleaming threshold by a grim-faced Flora. Linda gathered her courage.
‘Ah, good morning, Miss Matlock. I called to see how the eye was faring.’
‘Oh. I was coming to the surgery. There’s no need ‒’
‘It’s no trouble at all since I was passing,’ interrupted Linda, and stepped very firmly forward, so that Flora Matlock was obliged to allow her to enter or be mown down.
‘What a very nice house, Miss Matlock, and how beautifully you keep it. I was brought up in an orderly home so I do appreciate it.’
Linda thought of the homey comfort of her mother’s house, and felt a twinge of guilt, but she chattered on in this vein, and was gratified to observe that Flora Matlock was visibly softening ‒ indeed beginning to simper a little with pride.
‘I try to keep the place as it should be,’ she said, leading the way through to an austere sitting room, where Linda went through an elaborate process of examining the sty.
‘You should just see the Doctors’ house sometimes, Miss Matlock. Such a muddle! What with Doctor Cooper potting his plants in the kitchen. And now young Doctor Peter is there ‒ well ‒ poor Elsie Peach has her work cut out keeping things straight. Of course, it’s much easier for you, being on your own.’
Linda waited but Flora Matlock did not rise to the bait, instead she leant towards Linda and plucked at her shoulder.
‘Excuse me ‒ a hair,’ she said, and removing it she carried it to the fire and threw it in with distaste. ‘It’s the only way, you know.’
‘What is?’ said Linda, startled.
‘Burning. To destroy the germs, I mean. You’d understand, Doctor. I scald everything. You have to chase dirt every minute. The smallest corner is a breeding place. I do the front step before it’s light. So much to do ‒’
Her eyes were shining oddly.
‘You should get some help in,’ said Linda, a vague idea forming at the back of her mind.
‘If you want it done properly you must do it yourself. Nobody else understands. Nobody!’
Linda was making great play of packing away her equipment.
‘By the way, Elsie Peach said your sister Harriet was staying in Chester.’
She could see Flora was instantly alert.
‘No. Cheltenham,’ she said.
‘Yes, that’s what I heard. My cousin lives there and she sent me last week’s local paper. Oh, you’ve no need to discuss it if you’d rather not.’
‘Discuss what?’
‘I read about the case.’ Linda had lowered her voice and spoke sympathetically. ‘I’m very sorry. Your own sister.’
‘I don’t understand ‒’
‘Not very nice for you.’
‘I don’t know what case you’re talking about, Doctor Ford, but it’s nothing to do with my sister Harriet. Harriet’s not in Cheltenham now. Nor was she there last week!’
‘Really?’ Linda made the word sound disbelieving.
‘No, I say. She’s here! She’s been back a month!’
Linda felt a frisson of triumph.
‘It must have been someone of the same name. I’m so glad. Your sister is here then.’
‘Upstairs this very minute.’
‘I’d never have guessed.’ Linda made the remark sound sceptical, and at the same time moved towards the door. At once Flora Matlock strode out into the hall and called up the stairs.
‘Harriet!’ she called. ‘Come down here.’
Linda had stepped out behind Flora and followed her gaze up the stairs, where a figure appeared. It was a thin, pale little woman with white hair floating round her face, caught in a bun into which she was nervously pushing stray hairs.
‘May I, Flora?’ she said.
She came timidly down the stairs, her eyes vaguely resting on Linda, who moved towards her and took her hand.
‘I’m the new doctor here, Miss Matlock. Very nice to meet you.’
At once the papery face lit up with interest.
‘A young woman. How nice. I do hope you’ll be happy here, my dear. It’s a pretty village. At least ‒’ She broke off and glanced at her sister, as if the statement needed Flora’s approval.
‘You’ve put that dreadful old dress on again!’ Flora Matlock said angrily. ‘The moths have been at it. I told you there are moths in your wardrobe, but you take no notice.’
‘I scrubbed it out, Flora, just as you said. I really did.’
Flora Matlock turned to the doctor for support. ‘She doesn’t understand the need for hygiene. Never has. I have terrible trouble getting her to keep herself clean!’
She turned again on Harriet, who was twisting her fingers nervously and turning her head from side to side.
‘And don’t say you washed properly this morning because your towel was scarcely damp.’
‘It’s so cold in the bathroom, Flora.’
‘At least go and change into a presentable dress. The grey one is fresh back from the cleaners.’
Harriet nodded and started back up the stairs, casting a single wan, polite smile back at Linda.
‘She’s such a trial!’ said Flora Matlock. ‘Not fit to be seen!’
It was on Linda’s lips to take this matter further, but she stopped herself. She felt sure that if she was to be of any help in this situation ‒ if she was to render the unhappy Harriet any sort of assistance ‒ then she must not antagonise Flora. Not yet.
‘In any event,’ she told Peter later, ‘I didn’t see what I could do right then.’
‘You’ve done all you should,’ he assured her. ‘The two old ladies are probably happy as bees playing this bickering game. I’ll bet Harriet would be completely lost if she didn’t have Flora to chase her around.’
‘It’s not quite like that, Peter. Flora is a fanatic and Harriet is being driven crazy by her.’
‘Well ‒ Harriet doesn’t have to live there.’
‘That’s true.’
‘And you are driving me crazy,’ said Peter, pulling her on to his lap.
At which the conversation took a different turn.
Nevertheless Linda was able to take some action in the Matlock affair, when she managed to persuade Flora to take on Polly Damerel to help in the house. It took all her powers of cunning to talk Flora into it. And at the same time she felt the atmosphere of purity would be a useful revelation for Polly. What’s more, the child would provide Linda with a spy in the Matlock camp, to report back if things worsened.
I am becoming quite Machiavellian, thought Linda, smugly.
Polly was working part-time for the Matlocks and on other days she helped Elsie Peach in the big house, so she was handy for Linda to waylay.
But the first piece of news that the girl came out with was nothing to do with the two weird sisters.
‘Doctor Peter washed our blankets,’ said Polly in a voice deep with admiration.
‘He did what!’
‘Last time he called,’ she said, and trotted off, leaving Linda speechless.
It was something she couldn’t let pass. She waited till he was in one of his particularly superior moods, then tackled him.
‘You’ve found out, have you,’ he said, turning red. ‘Well, it’s no big deal. I told Mrs Damerel the bedding was a disgrace. Then I realised how difficult it was for her to get that sort of thing washed ‒ let alone dried ‒ so I bundled it
all up and brought it here. Elsie helped me do it in our machines.’
‘Oh Peter!’
‘Anyway, I’ve persuaded them to clean the place up. I left them a few packets of washing powder and a couple of bottles of bleach. What is more I’m taking up the matter of the structural condition of that cottage with the Health Officer.’
He sat back in his chair with his arms folded. Linda regarded him fondly. She had an uncertain feeling about the lengths he was taking this to, but she loved him for caring so much about the feckless Damerels. She wished she’d have seen him staggering about with those unsavoury blankets!
Three weeks passed and Polly was unaware that Linda’s casual enquiries about the Matlock household held any significance. But she realised that Linda was interested in the two women, and so it was Linda she sought out at once when she had a frightening piece of news to impart.
‘I don’t want to stay there, Doctor Ford. I never have liked it much, but Ma said I had to as you’d got it for me and all that. But today it was awful. She found Miss Harriet had been downstairs, you see, and she was really mad! She isn’t allowed down normally, see, because Miss Flora says she trails dirt and contagion round the place. She has Miss Harriet washing her bedsheets every day now. And she says her room is verminous. I don’t think it’s verminous, Doctor Ford.’
And there speaks an authority, thought Linda fleetingly. ‘Go on, Polly,’ she urged.
‘She found a hairpin, you see. That’s ’ow she knew Harriet had been downstairs. An’ she said it was dirty an’ that Miss Harriet’s hair was dirty an’ that she was going to come in the night and cut it off while she was sleepin’. An’ Miss Harriet was cryin’. And Miss Flora was callin’ her childish. She said the first thing they do in hospital is to cut your hair off because long hair’s unhygienic. Do they cut your hair off, Doctor Ford?’
‘No, no, no, not unless ‒ No.’
‘She locked Miss Harriet in her room and Miss Harriet was calling out that the room was closing in on her. That’s when I ran away. I don’t think they’d realised I was there.’
Linda didn’t think so either.
‘I don’t want to go back,’ said Polly, her eyes filling with tears.
‘Of course not,’ Linda reassured her. ‘And don’t worry about Miss Harriet, I’ll do something about it.’
The Country Doctor: Captivating tales from a young GP's case notes Page 13