The Shipbuilder’s Daughter

by Emma Fraser

  Dr Alan opened the door next to it. This room was much smaller, with a cracked leather examination couch and a stainless steel table and a sink. It also had, she noticed with dismay, a fishing rod, a pair of waders in the corner and a shotgun propped up against the wall.

  ‘I —’ he smiled broadly, ‘we now, hold outpatient surgeries in community halls across the island as well as here.’

  ‘Are they as well equipped as this one?’ Margaret tried to keep the irony from her voice but if Dr Alan noticed he didn’t let on.

  ‘I carry most of what I need in my bag. The nurses set the rooms up in advance. We have two district nurses here in North Uist – Effie here in Lochmaddy and Anne McAllister in Carinish. Could do with more, but we’re glad to have them. They cover the island between them. See those who don’t need to see the doctor. Pregnant women and so on. Not that we manage to see the women more than once before they deliver and sometimes not at all. We try and get them to come more often, but travel, and expense, are issues for most of the people here.’

  Only one antenatal visit? Sometimes none? In Glasgow they encouraged women to come to antenatal clinics regularly throughout their pregnancy. It was known to reduce the infant mortality rate substantially. At least one thing was the same here – she’d have the support of experienced nurses.

  Dr Alan pointed to a book lying open on the desk. ‘You must write down every patient you go to see in there. No exceptions. We need to keep our accounts straight. The minister’s wife, Sophie, comes in once a week to do them and she’ll have your guts for garters if you don’t enter every visit and every time you dispense medicine.’

  ‘I’ll remember,’ Margaret promised.

  ‘Sophie used to be one of the district nurses, but gave it up when she married. A minister’s wife has too much to do.’ His face relaxed and he smiled. ‘But Dolina – Miss MacGregor – helps out. Lets us know who’s in and who can be seen by a nurse instead of the doctor. That sort of thing. She knows most of the families. Keeps us all in line.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, making it stick up more than ever. ‘Right, then. The treatment room.’ He turned and Margaret followed him in to another room across the hall. ‘This is where we do dressings, minor procedures and so forth.’

  ‘What about the more serious surgical cases?’

  ‘If there’s time we send them to Glasgow, or Stornoway. We are hoping to have an air ambulance for emergencies soon. Assuming the weather’s good enough for it to land and take off.’

  ‘An air ambulance? Really. But that would be wonderful.’ Nothing she’d seen so far had led her to think there might be such a thing.

  ‘Won’t be this winter, I’m afraid. We’ll have to make do with the ferries in the meantime, or manage ourselves. Many’s an operation I’ve had to carry out on a kitchen table and by the light of an oil lamp.’

  She assumed he was teasing. ‘What kind of emergencies do you get?’

  ‘Same as in the big city of Glasgow, I should think. Perforated ulcers, haemorrhage, accidents, you’ll soon get to know what’s what.’

  ‘What about the cases that can’t be sent to Glasgow?’

  ‘Then we have to do the best we can. Hope you remember how to wield a scalpel.’

  Wield a scalpel? She hadn’t anticipated doing surgery. She hoped her surgical skills weren’t too rusty.

  ‘Religion?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Religion, girl, religion. What church do you attend?’

  ‘Church of Scotland.’ She’d never been much of a church goer, but Church of Scotland was what she always said when asked to state her faith.

  Dr Alan looked relieved. ‘Two services on a Sunday. You need to attend at least one. People expect it.’ He took his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to pack it. ‘Now, what else do you need to know?

  ‘Whatever you can tell me.’

  ‘Infectious diseases are our biggest problem. TB, measles, scarlet fever and so on.’ His smile faded. ‘Trouble is the patients often don’t call me out until they are very ill. We lose far too many. Young and old.’

  In that respect it wasn’t too different from the mainland. Infectious diseases were the biggest killer there too.

  ‘What else? ‘ Dr Alan continued. ‘We have a small hospital near the surgery. Not a hospital exactly. It’s where those who can no longer afford to keep themselves come – and those who have lost their marbles. We do have two or three beds in a small annexe for anyone we need to keep a close eye on while we’re waiting to transfer them to Glasgow or Stornoway.

  ‘None of the houses – except this one – has electricity and that comes from a generator and is rationed. We’re lucky here in that we have running water and an inside bathroom. Most of the locals still have an outside lavatory. I’m afraid the cottage you’ll be staying in is the same. Still, you’ll get used to it, I’m sure. At least it has running cold water. Many of the people here still have to fetch their water from the well when they need it. Another difficulty is that there are no telephones.’

  ‘Not even at the surgery?’ Yet wasn’t that a good thing? The more cut off the island was, especially from the mainland, the better.

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ He stopped and gave her a keen look. ‘You must find us very primitive.’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ She could hardly tell him she did. ‘But how do the patients let you know when they need you?’

  ‘They go to the post office and send a telegram. The telegram boy brings it here and waits for a reply. I also have a regular schedule for visiting on the island. I stop at the shop, or the post office if there is one, in each area and ask if any of the locals have left a request for me to come and see them. It works well enough.’

  ‘What about at night? The post offices will be closed.’

  ‘The locals rarely call the doctor out at night. Although medical care here is subsidised by the government, you’ll find many people still think they have to pay the doctor. Most keep aside half a crown for that purpose. But in an emergency they’ll send someone to the surgery or come themselves if they can. Of course sometimes I’m out on a visit. If I’m on one part of the island it can take several days before I can get to the patient.’ He smiled tiredly. ‘It is one of the reasons I’m glad to have you here. At least now, if I’m away, you’ll be able to attend when I can’t.’

  ‘May I use your car, if that happens?’

  ‘Of course. But the car isn’t always suitable. The roads only go so far. I make many of my visits on horseback, as will you.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve never been on a horse. And I didn’t think to bring jodhpurs.’

  ‘Good grief, woman – then you’ll have to learn. Don’t worry, Dobbin knows what he’s doing. You just point him in the right direction and off he goes. And Dolina can cut down a pair of my breeches for you easily enough. She’s a fine needlewoman. Now then where was I? Don’t keep interrupting me, girl. Sometimes it’s just as easy to walk – at other times you’ll have to get a boat over to the house you need to visit. Most of them don’t have roads up to their front door. Dolina will keep you right.’ He lit his pipe and puffed for a few moments. ‘I’m going to start you off in the surgery on Monday and give you the local visits in the afternoon. We’ll wait a few days before I send you further afield. You’ll soon get the hang of things.’

  Margaret was feeling more anxious by the minute. She couldn’t ride, hadn’t practised surgery since graduating, and had never removed a tooth. But she could learn. She would learn. She had to.

  ‘Thank you for taking a chance on me. I won’t let you down.’

  ‘No other applicants. Either you or no one. But,’ he added hastily, ‘I’m sure you’ll do very well.’

  So if Dr Alan hadn’t been desperate he probably wouldn’t have taken her on. As it was, he was probably regretting doing so. And if she had had any other choice but this job, she might have turned tail and run. Going on horseback to see patients in homes without electricity or running water w
ould be a challenge she hadn’t considered. On the other hand, it couldn’t be any worse than the conditions in Govan. And most of all, here, at least so far, she and the children were safe.

  Dr Alan pulled his fob watch out of his pocket and looked at it. ‘Time for a dram. Dolina will be down shortly to pour us one.’

  She never drank whisky. Having tried it once, the amber liquid had burned her throat and brought tears to her eyes. She’d much rather check up on the children. But Dr Alan was already heading back towards the sitting room and she had no option but to trot after him.

  ‘Dolina!’ he bellowed, finding the sitting room empty. ‘That woman is never around when I need her.’

  ‘I think she’s upstairs with my children.’

  ‘Your children. Oh yes. I’d forgotten about them.’ He filled two tumblers from a decanter on a small table next to the fireplace and handed one to Margaret. ‘You do understand why you can’t stay in this house, I’m sure.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Single man, and a single woman, even a widow, would cause no end of gossip. And even if the cottage we have for you was large enough for you all, it would be impossible for you to have the children with you. Our hours are unpredictable and long.’

  ‘I do understand. Completely.’

  Just then there was a knock on the door. ‘That’ll be someone looking for the doctor if I’m not mistaken,’ Dr Alan said. He thumped his glass down on the table and gave it a long, regretful glance. ‘I was looking forward to that.’

  ‘Would you like me to go in your place?’ she asked.

  He gave Margaret a tired smile. ‘No. Absolutely not. I don’t expect you to take the on-call until you’ve been here a couple of weeks. Wouldn’t be right. Plenty of work to keep you busy during the day. You enjoy your dram and I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Margaret waited until he was out of the room, before tipping her untouched whisky back into the decanter. Then she gathered up her bag and went in search of her children.

  Chapter 24

  Margaret tossed and turned all night, only sleeping in fitful bursts and when she did it was to dream of Alasdair. The dream wasn’t a happy one. In it she’d been walking towards him but he’d shaken his head and turned away from her. She’d started to run after him but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t catch him up. She’d woken to find her pillow wet with tears and she’d lain in the ink-black darkness wondering if she’d ever see him again.

  Finally, in the small hours she had fallen back asleep, only waking what felt like minutes later when Elizabeth tapped her face. Her daughter was dressed and hopping from foot to foot.

  ‘Wake up, Mummy,’ she said.

  Margaret bolted upright. She’d been so deeply asleep she hadn’t heard them get up from beside her. ‘Where’s James?’ What if her ever-curious child had wandered outside and into the sea?

  ‘Dolina just brought him down to the kitchen. But I’ve been up for ages. I’ve been to see the kittens again and been with Dolina to milk the cow. She told me to tell you she’s left hot water for you in a jug in the bathroom. But hurry, Mummy.’

  Margaret threw back the covers, her heart resuming its normal rhythm. ‘You mustn’t refer to Miss MacGregor by her first name, sweetheart.’

  Elizabeth frowned, obviously puzzled. ‘She told me to, Mummy. She’s really nice. Not a witch at all. I like her. Come on, hurry up!’

  It was clearly a different Miss MacGregor to the one Margaret had met.

  While Elizabeth waited impatiently for her in the bedroom, Margaret used the bathroom and dressed as quickly as she could in a clean blouse and the same suit she’d been wearing the day before. They tiptoed downstairs, passing a grandfather clock in the hall, which to Margaret’s horror showed the time to be well after eight. What kind of mother would the already disapproving Dolina think she was?

  They followed the smell of frying bacon into the kitchen. It was a large, bright room with a scrubbed wooden table in the centre and a stove on top of which a kettle whistled. Frilled curtains hung from the windows and a large dresser displayed a collection of china. It was much warmer in here than the chilly upstairs bedroom. James grinned, showing off his baby teeth when he saw her, but immediately went back to studying something on the floor that was clearly fascinating him.

  The housekeeper was standing at the sink, peeling potatoes.

  ‘You should have woken me,’ Margaret said guiltily, reaching down to ruffle her son’s silky hair.

  Dolina sniffed. ‘Not my place to do so, Dr Margaret.’

  ‘Is Dr Alan still sleeping?’

  ‘Goodness me, no. He’s out on his rounds. Been out since six.’ She looked pointedly at the clock and then, even more pointedly, at the children.

  Margaret ignored her. She was dashed if she was going to apologise to this taciturn, unfriendly woman.

  Dolina placed two plates of bacon and eggs on the table. ‘Sit yourselves down. I’ve already given the lad his porridge.’

  Margaret fluffed out her napkin and placed it over her knees. ‘You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble, Miss MacGregor.’

  ‘Just doing what I’m paid for.’

  Margaret suppressed a sigh. For whatever reason the housekeeper had taken against her, it appeared nothing she could do, or say, was going to make her unbend.

  Dolina buttered a scone for Elizabeth and passed it across to her with a smile. Then she then turned back to Margaret and studied her with a glint in her eye. ‘There’s someone in the waiting room. I told him Dr Alan was out and I didn’t know when he’d be back.’

  ‘You should have said! Shall I see him?’ Margaret put her knife and fork down.

  ‘You could. But finish your breakfast first. He’s not going anywhere.’

  Feeling uncomfortable leaving a patient waiting, Margaret hurried through her eggs and bacon. As soon as she was finished, she stood up and kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head. ‘You stay here with James and Miss MacGregor and don’t get under her feet. I won’t be far away.’

  ‘Can’t I come with you, Mummy? I’ll be good. I won’t make a sound.’

  Margaret exchanged a glance with Dolina over the top of her daughter’s head. If this move was difficult for her, how much worse was it for her five-year-old?

  ‘But Elizabeth – I don’t care for Libby as a name, it sounds like something made up if you ask me – I need your help!’ Dolina said, indicating with a tilt of her head that it was okay for Margaret to go. At least the housekeeper was being kind to the children and that was all that really mattered.

  Margaret crouched down beside Elizabeth and touched her cheek. ‘You help Miss MacGregor. I’ll be back before you know it.’

  Margaret hesitated outside the waiting room. As soon as she treated a patient she was breaking, if not the law, definitely the code of practice to which she was bound. But she had no choice. It was only the next in a series of hurdles she’d already had to confront and, no doubt, would continue to face in the months to come.

  An elderly man with a collie by his feet looked up when she entered.

  ‘I’m Dr Margaret Murdoch,’ she said. ‘I’m helping Dr Alan. He’s on another call. Would you like to come through to the consulting room?’

  ‘But you’re a lass!’

  ‘Yes, well. But I’m also a doctor.’

  He looked at her suspiciously. ‘I’ll wait for Dr Alan.’

  ‘He might be some time.’

  He considered her for a long moment. ‘Do you know about legs?’ he said finally.

  ‘A little. What seems to be the problem?’

  ‘Can’t walk. Not without limping.’

  ‘Come through to the consulting room so I can have a look.’

  ‘Can do it as easily here. No point in wasting time. Need to get back to work.’

  ‘If I’m going to help I need to have a proper look. And that’s best done in the consulting room,’ she said firmly.

  Reluctantly he got to his feet. He didn’t appear to be favouring one leg
over another as far as she could tell. His dog followed behind them, his paws slipping on the polished wooden floor.

  ‘Is the sore leg something that comes and goes?’ she asked as they made their way along the hall.

  ‘No. It’s there all the time. Can’t you see it yourself?’ He muttered something in Gaelic she couldn’t understand, but was pretty sure wasn’t complimentary.

  Inside the consulting room she pulled the screen around the examination couch. ‘Could you slip your trousers off, please?’

  ‘My trousers! What the devil do you want me to do that for?’

  ‘It makes it easier for me to examine you.’