Return to Lanmore

by Sheila Douglas

  'It's hard to believe that young man is a doctor,' Elizabeth observed, when Nell returned to the room.

  'Why?' Nell asked sharply, and her aunt shrugged.

  'Those manners, my dear! No poise at all. I'm astonished that he was accepted for training.'

  'He was accepted because he did brilliantly in his A-levels. He's not usually so awkward. You made him nervous, all of you, sitting there looking so superior.'

  'Nonsense, nonsense,' rumbled the Colonel. 'Did my best to make the fellow feel at home.'

  'Oh, Grandpa!' Nell's ill humour dissolved into helpless laughter. 'Asking him what the hunting was like round his way! He comes from Liverpool!'

  'And how was I to know that, miss?' the Colonel snapped though his lips twitched in sympathy.

  Nell excused herself and departed, because she had an evening surgery. She felt unsettled by Ted's visit and by his last words. Should she stay? Should she go? Her grandfather would miss her, but her aunt would be glad.

  The surgery was a long one. There were more problems than usual, social as well as medical. Struggling to find a hospital bed for an old woman who wasn't desperately ill, but who yet needed some attention, Nell began to wonder if her friends weren't right, that she ought to have more training. She was still too young and unsure of herself to handle difficult house physicians.

  'If it's only a minor stroke surely she can be looked after at home?' the resident doctor urged, and Nell gripped the receiver tightly and hung on to her temper.

  'I've already told you, she's eighty and she lives alone.'

  'Family? Friends?'

  'Her cottage is two miles from another house.'

  'Heard of district nurses, doctor?' The cocky young voice at the other end of the line fired Nell to indignation.

  'They don't provide an all-night service. If it was your mother would you like the thought of her, on her own up a cart track, without even a telephone?' That silenced him and the old lady was accepted.

  'As a temporary measure only,' the house physician warned. 'We're hard pressed for beds, so the sooner you can work something out with the social services the better.'

  He was only doing his duty, trying to keep his scarce beds for acutely ill patients. Nell couldn't blame him, though she resented the time she had spent in trying to convince him.

  'You look tired, doctor. I'll fix up the ambulance,' Miss Winter offered. She was a tower of strength. Nell thanked her gratefully and said that she would call on Mrs Hayes on her way home. She had visited the old lady that morning for the routine once-monthly check-up that Dr MacFarlane insisted all his oldest patients should have, and discovered her with speech slightly slurred and one arm out of action, the little cottage chaotic, the bed unmade. Mrs Hayes had been nearly as reluctant as the houseman over admission, but she had had several hours to think about it, and to dread the approaching night.

  She welcomed Nell with open relief, and because she was apprehensive about a new experience, Nell sat with her until the ambulance came. 'You see, doctor,' Mrs Hayes explained, 'I've never been in hospital. All my children were born here,' and she raised a thin old hand to point waveringly at the ceiling.

  How times had changed! No modern doctor would consider delivering babies in this remote cottage, without even a piped water supply. Nell spared a thought for the courage and dedication of those old-time G.P.s, and wondered if her generation would ever be their equal.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  By the time she reached Philip's house the others had finished their evening meal, and were having coffee. Nell had telephoned to say she might be held up, but hadn't expected to be so late.

  'I'm terribly sorry,' she said awkwardly.

  Elizabeth glanced at the dainty French clock on the mantelpiece and shook her head reprovingly. 'Must your surgery go on quite so long? It is a bit inconvenient for Philip.'

  Nell coloured and took the drink that Philip put into her hand. 'You look as though you need a pick-me-up,' he commented quite kindly. 'And Elizabeth, Nell can't help being late. Doctors don't keep nine-to-five hours, after all.'

  'But your housekeeper may not like having to serve meals at this hour.'

  'Mrs Reed is the last woman to make a fuss, especially when she knows there's a good reason.'

  He was correct in this. Mrs Reed brushed aside Nell's apologies with a smile. 'Can't be helped, doctor. And Mr Trent's away so much that we have an easy time of it most of the year.'

  Nell had reached the sweet stage and was tucking in to apple pie when Philip walked in. 'All right?'

  'Yes, thank you,' she said politely.

  He sat down opposite her. 'You looked a bit fraught just now. Don't let Elizabeth's remarks upset you.'

  She concentrated on her pie. 'Yes, but I do keep odd hours. It might be better if I stayed with the MacFarlanes. Andrew thinks so.'

  'I'll bet he does, but your grandfather .wouldn't like it. They're two men on their own, and when Sandy's out there would be just you and Andrew.' His expression was sardonic. 'Do you enjoy playing them off against each other?'

  'I don't know what you're talking about.'

  'You know perfectly well what I'm talking about! That lad looked pretty despondent.'

  'You saw how it was at tea,' Nell said quickly.

  'The effect of your family? I expect that made it worse, but I should have said'—he gave her a hard unsmiling look—'that the poor young man had been rebuffed.'

  He was altogether too perceptive. Nell pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, determined not to start an argument. Her colour rose under his ironic gaze. Her self-control slipped and she burst out angrily, 'Why don't you go away!' recalled that he was after all her host, and mumbled a sort of apology.

  'Coffee in the drawing-room,' he remarked, ignoring both outburst and apology, and walked out of the room. As if she was a toddler, Nell thought indignantly, turning on tantrums which were better ignored.

  'I have some notes to write up,' she announced to his departing back. 'I don't want any coffee.'

  This incident strengthened her determination to move from Philip's house as soon as possible. Next morning she called at the Manor to see what the workmen were doing. She picked her way through plaster, tripped over a ladder, and received a disapproving stare from the foreman.

  'This really isn't the place for you, miss. Live here? It's impossible,' and looking at the total chaos around her, Nell was forced to agree. Today was going to be a busy one. She would decide what to do after Andrew came back.

  That night she had her first taste of how exhausting a G.P.'s life could be. Dr MacFarlane had insisted on taking the evening surgery, so that she could have supper in peace.

  She was drinking coffee and leafing through one of Philip's books when the telephone rang.

  It was for her—a farm labourer's wife, saying that her husband had vomited blood. The men were playing chess, but Elizabeth kept her eyes on Nell's face while her niece was speaking. 'All right, Mrs Thomas, I'll be with you as soon as possible. Keep him warm. Keep him flat, and keep calm if you possibly can.'

  And the same went for her, she thought, as she turned right at the top of Philip's drive. She had to appear calm when she saw Mr Thomas, even if she was a mass of nerves underneath. This was her first real emergency outside a hospital. At Q.C.H., backed up by the casualty staff, with senior doctors just around the corner, any well trained person could cope. Here she was on her own.

  An hour later, as the ambulance drove off with Mr Thomas and his wife, Nell felt a sense of achievement and quiet confidence. When she had walked into the house there had been an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sudden apprehension that she might be out of her depth. However, as soon as she saw Mr Thomas, ashen-faced from blood loss and quite plainly terrified, she forgot her own doubts and fears in the need to remove his. She had not disgraced her teachers. She had not needed to telephone Dr MacFarlane. Next time would be easier, because nothing could ever be as bad as your first e
mergency.

  Nell drove back to Philip's in a mood of near-euphoria, parked her car near the front door and walked into the drawing-room. The chess game was over and only her family were in the room.

  'You're looking very pleased with yourself,' her grandfather commented, and her aunt, after a critical stare, asked if she actually enjoyed seeing people ill.

  'Of course I don't, but it is nice to help them. To know that you can.' She gave a smile as she remembered the gratitude in Mrs Thomas' eyes and the woman's last words.

  'We weren't frightened any more after you came.'

  Elizabeth shrugged. 'Each man to his taste, I suppose. And woman too! I couldn't do it.' She returned to her book.

  Her aunt's words deflated Nell, so that the mood of euphoria evaporated and she realised how tired she was. 'Ten o'clock! 'Time for bed, Grandpa!' They had talked the old man into retiring early as a regular habit. He embarked on his customary grumble, to which Nell listened indulgently.

  'Wish I could go to bed, but I'll probably be called out again.'

  'No life for a young girl,' the Colonel growled as they crossed the hall together. 'Don't like the thought of you wandering round the countryside in the middle of the night.'

  Hearing their voices, Philip came out of his study, swinging a pair of spectacles in one hand. He told Nell that he agreed with her grandfather. 'Take one of the dogs with you.' Paddy and Ranger had moved with the family, though Elizabeth had decreed that they must stay in one of the outhouses.

  'All right,' Nell answered. 'It's a good idea.'

  They said goodnight to the old man, and as he climbed the stairs slowly Philip lingered in the hall. 'It's not often you agree with me, my girl.' There was a glint in his eyes as he looked down at her.

  Nell stepped back a few paces, because he was having his usual effect on her, and however hard she tried she could not be indifferent to him. Physical attraction was a mysterious business. Her head told her that she disliked him; her senses told her quite otherwise. She made a light rejoinder and followed her grandfather upstairs, conscious that Philip was still standing in the hall watching her, with that ironic little half-smile that made her want to hit him.

  He knew just how he affected her, damn him! He might even kiss her again if he felt in the mood, and if she had an ounce of self-respect she would rebuff him. Make it plain that she was not as he believed her to be, that she was not the sort of girl whom men labelled easy.

  Her aunt went to bed at eleven, remarking wistfully that she hadn't realised Philip worked so hard. He had been shut in his study all evening, and when Nell went out to answer another call he was still there. The curtains weren't drawn and she could see him, hunched over his desk, totally absorbed in whatever he was doing. To her surprise the light was still on when she returned at two in the morning. Paddy showed unusually great reluctance to enter his shed, dropping himself heavily to the ground and refusing to budge.

  'You great fat lump! Move!' Nell panted, heaving at him angrily. He licked her hand but stayed where he was.

  'What are you trying to do?' came Philip's voice from the darkness.

  'Trying to get him back into the shed.'

  'Bring him into the house. Ranger too,' for the other Labrador was keeping up a persistent whine from behind the shut door.

  'Oh, thank you, Philip. They're very offended at being shut up out here.'

  'Then why do it?' he enquired as they walked back to the house, the delighted dogs bounding beside them.

  'Elizabeth said that if I insisted on bringing them I was to keep them out of your way. She thought they should have gone to the vet's.'

  'To the vet's! For six weeks?'

  'Yes, I know, but Elizabeth doesn't like dogs. She says you don't either.'

  'Your aunt has the wrong idea about a lot of things,' he retorted, sounding faintly irritated, opened the front door for her and followed her into the hall. 'The only reason I don't keep dogs myself is because I'm away so much, and it hardly seems fair to make more work for the Reeds.'

  'Do you often work this late?' asked Nell, thinking that he looked a lot fresher than she felt.

  He shrugged. 'When the need arises. I get most of my best ideas at night. Come and warm yourself in the study and I'll bring you a hot drink.'

  Touched by this thoughtfulness, Nell walked into his room, where a log fire still burnt brightly, the one touch of homeliness in a strictly functional room. The shelves were lined by books on physics and electronics, papers covered with calculations and diagrams lay scattered on his desk. A large piece of cartridge paper was pinned to a work bench, beside it a metal ruler and calculator. She sat down on a stool in front of the fire, thinking how little she really knew about Philip. This was his work, the world of applied science, and when he retreated into it he became another man, as her aunt seemed to be discovering with some dismay.

  'I shouldn't be disturbing you when you're so busy,' she apologised as he came back with two mugs of Ovaltine and the remains of a fruit cake.

  He hitched himself on to the corner of his big desk. 'I've finished for the night. I was thinking of stopping when I heard your car.'

  He had shut the study door and Nell was conscious of their isolation in the quiet dark house. She kept her eyes on the fire, and ate the cake he cut for her, though for some ridiculous reason she seemed to have difficulty in swallowing.

  'Nell?' He spoke from just behind her and she swung round sharply, startled because she hadn't heard him get off the desk. The only light was from the fire and a small table lamp. He looked enormous and somehow menacing, though his face was in shadow. She backed away from him, and he gave an angry laugh.

  'Do you have to behave so ridiculously?' He moved towards her again and she stepped back into the wall. He swore softly under his breath, and as a log flared it cast a flickering light on to his face. Nell could see in those brief seconds that he was very angry. His eyes glittered and his mouth was compressed. He put one hand on each side of her, so that she couldn't move away, and gazed down at her.

  'Don't look at me like that. I'm fed up to the back teeth with the way you've behaved ever since you've come to stay —most of the time, anyhow.' Astounded, she could only gape at him. 'Avoiding me as much as possible, stiff as a poker when you can't. What are you afraid of, Nell? That I'll kiss you again? I shouldn't have thought that a girl of your experience would bother about that.' He brought out the last words contemptuously, flicked her cheek with a hard finger and moved away.

  There was an unpleasant lump in Nell's throat. She swallowed painfully. 'If you dislike me so much, why did you insist on my coming to stay? And why invite me in here tonight? You didn't have to, after all.'

  He threw himself into the easy chair on the other side of the fire. 'Good question,' he agreed moodily, 'and no easy answer. You're a very ... desirable girl, Nell... will that do for a start?'

  Her mouth felt dry. Her heart was beating very hard. Philip wanted her, and was furious with himself because of it. Or with her. Or with both of them. Wanted her, but hadn't said a word about loving, or even liking. 'I'm going away again tomorrow,' he added into the small silence. 'I shall be on the Continent for a fortnight or so. I think it might be better if you find somewhere else to stay before I get back.'

  Pride kept Nell's head high, helped her to walk to the door with a measure of composure. 'I agree with you,' she managed, but couldn't quite bring herself to look at him.

  'If you remember I never wanted to come here in the first place.'

  Then she was out of the study and running across the hall, taking the stairs two at a time, her breath coming in great gasps, until she reached the privacy of her room and could throw herself on to the bed. She lay face down, dry-eyed but despairing. She knew now why Philip disturbed her so profoundly. She was in love with him, had been for a long time, though she had fought against admitting it.

  She didn't think she had given herself away, because that would have been the ultimate humiliation—to expo
se her emotions to a man who wanted only one thing from her. If she hadn't been a guest in his house—correction, if her grandfather hadn't been here as well, he would have made love to her tonight. But he respected and liked the old man, and could hardly betray him by sleeping with his granddaughter. So he had asked her to go, because the tension between them was becoming intolerable. He found her a distraction, and it was an experience he didn't like.

  Desolately Nell remembered something Pamela Middleton-Massey had once said, 'He has girl-friends scattered all over Europe!' He wouldn't waste any time thinking about her once he was away. She was just the irritating girl of whom he had never really approved, and whom he now thoroughly disliked, because she disturbed his peace of mind. Nell pushed herself up on the bed and fumbled for the light switch so that she could undress, praying she wouldn't be called out again tonight. Her head ached so violently that it would be difficult to think clearly, if she had to make a decision. In the morning she would go round to the surgery and ask Dr MacFarlane if she could stay with them for the next few weeks. At the same time she would tell him that she had made up her mind about the job. She couldn't possibly work in this neighbourhood. She wanted to get as far away from Philip as possible, though she was bound to meet him occasionally, when she came home for weekends. Calmer now that she had made this decision, Nell snapped the light off and shut her aching eyes.

  She slept late in the morning and arrived downstairs to find only one place laid at the dining table. She hurried to the kitchen, full of apologies, which Mrs Reed brushed aside.

  'Mr Trent told me you were up half the night, doctor. I'll bring your breakfast now. What would you like?'

  'I'm really not hungry. Could I just have a cup of coffee in here with you?'

  They were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting companionably, when Mrs Reed remembered Philip's letter. She produced it from her apron pocket. 'He asked me to give you this. Said he didn't want to disturb you so early in the morning.'