The Village Doctor's Marriage

by Abigail Gordon

  He’d stayed in some very average places over the last three years. He hadn’t had to, but he’d been so low in spirits he hadn’t bothered to look around and had taken what had been easily available. So the thought of a beautiful house by the river had caught his imagination and he supposed, if the worst came to the worst, he could live there by himself. But the whole idea was to build a house for Sallie where they could make up for the lost years, if she would let him.

  They were going to do the house calls together again, and when he came out of his room after morning surgery Sallie said, ‘There are a few visits to make and the nearest is to Henry Crabtree on Bluebell Lane.’

  ‘Right,’ he said casually, with the feeling that the fates were pulling his strings. ‘I remember old Henry. What’s the matter with him? I would have thought he’d be pushing up the daisies in the churchyard by now.’

  ‘No such thing. He’s elderly and becoming frail, but is a long way from being written off. He won the prize for the biggest marrow at the agricultural show last summer and this time he intends entering his tomatoes. The phone call from his daughter was to ask us to visit him as his face is puffy and discoloured.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  Henry Crabtree’s face was a mess, mainly across the bridge of the old man’s nose and on his cheeks. There was a bright red area of raised skin that seemed to consist of blisters and crusted-looking pimples.

  ‘When did the redness on your face first appear, Henry?’ Sallie asked, after the two doctors had scrutinised the affected area.

  ‘Yesterday,’ he replied. ‘I’d been feeling poorly for a couple of days with a bad head and vomiting and then this appeared. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but my daughter, Caroline, said she was going to ring you on her way to work.’

  ‘It is a good job she did,’ Sallie said, and turned to Steve. ‘Are you thinking the same as I am?’

  ‘Erysipelas?’

  ‘Yes. All the signs are there.’ Turning to the old man, she said, ‘Have you cut yourself, or had some other kind of open wound recently, Henry?’

  The old man nodded. ‘I cut me hand on a piece of glass that was hanging about in the shed. It wasn’t a big cut, but it was deep. I thought nothing of it at the time.’

  ‘That’s probably the cause,’ she said.

  ‘What? You’re saying that’s why my face has puffed up?’ Henry said in surprise.

  ‘Yes. It has given you erysipelas. Are you allergic to penicillin at all?’

  ‘No, not that I know of.’

  Good. I’m going to put you on a penicillin-type medicine that should clear it up in a week or so. We’ll drop the prescription off at the chemist’s for you, and they will deliver it.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Henry said gratefully. ‘And if you don’t mind my saying so, it’s good to see you two together again. It was a sight for sore eyes when I saw you both coming up the path.’

  Sallie smiled but didn’t comment, and it seemed as if Steve hadn’t heard. He was gazing intently out of the window. The building plot was next to Henry’s cottage, and when they came out and Sallie saw the for-sale notice with planning permission she exclaimed, ‘Somebody will soon snap this up! What a beautiful spot to build a house, with the river at the far end of the plot and fields at the front and side.’ Her expression became dreamy. ‘If it was mine I would build it from local stone, with all of it at ground level, and big windows and a green roof. And I’d have a lily pond and a gazebo in the garden.’

  ‘Yes, well, there’s nothing to stop you from wishing,’ Steve said. ‘This is one of the most beautiful spots in the village. Whoever ends up living here will be very fortunate.’

  ‘I agree. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to live here,’ she said as they walked back to the car.

  You are going to have the opportunity, my beautiful Sallie, he thought. But when you discover who has bought the land, you might not be so keen. Because he was going to buy it. If he hadn’t been certain before, he was now, having heard her describe the kind of house she would like.

  Bluebell Lane was one of the prettiest parts of the village. Not far from the centre, yet quiet and secluded, with just a farm at the far end and Henry’s cottage at the beginning. It was the perfect spot to build a dream home, but he would look a fool if Sallie refused to share it with him.

  He hadn’t forgotten her outburst of the night before. She’d made no secret of her hurt and he couldn’t blame her. In that other life before he’d gone away, she would never have edged away from him as she had that morning when he’d perched on the side of the bed.

  Buy the land, build the house, and see what develops, a voice inside him was saying. Your relationship with Sally has reached rock bottom. It can only improve.

  When they arrived back at the surgery he went into his consulting room and, shutting the door behind him, rang Jack Leminson. His wife answered, and she said, ‘He’s followed your instructions, Dr Beaumont, and gone to bed, but if you’ll hang on for a moment I’ll tell him to pick up the bedside phone.’

  ‘I want the land, Jack,’ Steve told him without preamble, ‘and I want you to build me a house on it, but on one condition—that my wife knows nothing about it until it is finished.’

  ‘You have a deal,’ the builder said. ‘As soon as I’m back in circulation we can meet up and sort out the details. What sort of a house did you have in mind?’

  ‘All at ground level, local stone, green roof, lily pond, gazebo…’

  ‘Hey, steady on, Doc,’ Jack said laughingly. ‘The only stone I’m interested in at the moment is the one that I’m trying to get rid of.’

  ‘So do as I said,’ Steve reminded him. ‘Bed rest, lots of drinks and we’ll see what the hospital says.’

  It was another rash major decision he’d made, he was thinking as he went up to the apartment for a quick lunch with Sallie. But he felt deep down that this time it was going to be the right one, and if it turned out to be that it wasn’t, that Sallie had had enough of him, then he would have to do his utmost to prove to her how much he wanted to make matters right between them again.

  Living upstairs could be claustrophobic, and the thought of a spacious stone house on Bluebell Lane was the stuff that dreams were made of. But all his dreams centred around his wife, and if she could see this in the same way that he did, as a new beginning, a means of blotting out the last three years, he would rejoice.

  She was already up there, chatting to Hannah and cuddling Liam.

  ‘Hello, Steve,’ the woman who was keeping their domestic ship afloat said cheerfully. ‘There’s soup warming and some sandwiches in the kitchen.’

  ‘Thanks Hannah,’ he said with a smile, and Sallie looked at him questioningly. He was his old self again for a moment, breezing into the kitchen with a decisive step. Something had pleased him and she wondered what it was.

  Steve had been sombre at breakfast, which was not surprising after the happenings of the night before, and her reaction when he’d sat on the bed early that morning. But something must have gone right since.

  Towards the end of the week she said casually, ‘There are two things I need to ask you, Steve.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Do you really want to be there when I buy a complete new wardrobe for Liam, and can we do one of the house calls together as I need your opinion?’

  ‘Yes, in reply to both questions,’ he said immediately. ‘I can’t remember when last I did any pleasure shopping…And who is the patient?’

  ‘Elizabeth Drury. Do you remember her? Lizzie lives in Lilac Cottage on the main street. She recently had an operation and the wound isn’t healing. It looks inflamed and the hospital has referred her to the local clinic to have it dressed daily.’

  ‘And the clinic thinks it might be MRSA.’

  ‘Hmm. I think it’s unlikely, but I’m not happy about her being treated there. I feel that the hospital might be shirking its responsibility. But the trouble is, I’ve never seen MR
SA. Have you?’

  ‘Only once. A guy came to me with a very nasty sore on his back, and I mean nasty. It looked almost gangrenous. It turned out that he’d been in hospital for some weeks, had picked up the infection in a bed sore and it had shown itself a couple of days after he was discharged.

  ‘Before I’d gathered my wits he’d developed pneumonia and, not willing to take any chances, I had him back in hospital smartish, and that was the diagnosis—methicillin resistant staphylococcus aureus, MRSA. He recovered eventually but it was very serious for a while. So lead on to Mrs Drury and we’ll see what’s happening there.’

  Lizzie Drury was not someone to make a fuss and when she saw the two doctors on her doorstep she laughed and said, ‘Is this what they mean when they talk about a second opinion?’

  Sallie smiled. ‘Yes, it is. I’ve brought Steve along to have a look at your leg, Lizzie.’

  ‘They’ve put an elastic stocking on and it feels a bit tight,’ she told them, as she bent down to take it off.

  Steve didn’t touch the infected area but he scrutinised it carefully for some minutes and then, turning to Sallie, said, ‘The skin is very thin on that part of the leg. That could be why the wound isn’t healing as it should.’ He asked Lizzie, ‘Has anyone mentioned MRSA to you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, but I have wondered.’

  ‘I’d have a word with the clinic to see what they have to say,’ he told Sallie. ‘They will have been told what the problem is. If they are treating Mrs Drury for MRSA, you as her GP should be informed. Somehow I don’t think it is the superbug. They would want to contain it where it was found, but I can understand your concern.

  ‘The elastic stocking is all right as long as it doesn’t affect circulation. They perhaps think the flesh will knit together better if it is held firmly in place, but for your own peace of mind ring the clinic.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll do that. Possibly you are right and the healing process is slow because the skin is so thin there. But I still don’t like the idea of Lizzie’s problem being the hospital’s fault and yet they aren’t seeing her in Outpatients.’

  She lowered her voice. ‘It’s a wonder she isn’t thinking of taking legal action.’ She looked over at the old lady, who was now replacing the elastic stocking and smiled. ‘Lizzie is a lovely woman. She told me that the hospital needs its money for more important things than paying out for a sore on her leg, which I thought was amazing in this world of claims and lawsuits for every little thing.’

  As they drove away from Lilac Cottage, Steve suggested, ‘Ring the clinic now and see what they have to say. I’ll be interested to know.’

  She did as he’d suggested and when the call was finished told him, ‘There’s been no mention of MRSA, according to the clinic nurse I spoke to. It would seem that the reason why Lizzie has been referred there is because of her age and the frailty of her skin. The hospital is admitting liability and don’t want her having to travel into town every day for dressings. Even if she’s picked up by ambulance, it would still be traumatic and very tiring for her, whereas the clinic is only at the other end of the village. But, needless to say, I’m going to keep my eye on that leg of hers.’

  He nodded. ‘Good thinking. And now, next on the agenda—clothes for Liam. And I intend to foot the bill. I wasn’t there for Melanie when she needed me, so all the more reason for me to do my share now. So Saturday we go shopping. Right?’

  ‘If that’s OK for you. There are a few things I need to get for myself, too.’

  ‘Likewise,’ he agreed, and wondered just how his birthday gift to Sallie was going to be looked upon.

  As Steve put Liam’s foldaway pram into the boot of his car on Saturday morning Sallie stood watching with the baby in her arms. This was unreal, she was thinking. The two of them going shopping with this delightful child that they loved so much and who wasn’t theirs even though it felt so right. She knew that Steve felt the same way she did. That it wasn’t going to last for ever and they should cherish every moment he was with them.

  He’d closed the car boot and was turning towards them and when he saw her expression he said, ‘What? Why so serious? Is anything wrong?’

  Ever since she’d appeared at breakfast-time with Liam in her arms and had found that he’d cooked for them and prepared the baby’s bottle, she’d been able to sense that he was really looking forward to the day ahead and had told herself not to spoil it.

  Yes, things were uncertain but she had to move on, and had vowed that she would try to stop harking back to the past. It was gone, and miraculously the future was slowly taking shape, though she still didn’t want to be rushed.

  She smiled and he thought how beautiful she was when she was happy.

  ‘Nothing is wrong,’ she told him. ‘I was just thinking how much we both love Liam.’

  Steve had an answering smile of his own. ‘You bet. It will be a sad day for us when Melanie comes back to claim him, so let’s make the most of it.’ And they did.

  In the children’s department of a large store in the nearest town they bought day- and nightwear in various sizes and colours to allow for the baby’s growth, and for the first time since Steve’s return Sallie felt at ease with him as he stood beside her with Liam in his arms.

  When they had finished he said, ‘What about the shopping you need to do for yourself? Or shall we have lunch first? I see they have an attractive-looking bistro over there.’

  ‘Yes, let’s eat first, before Liam decides he’s hungry. Then I’ll do my shopping while you push him around the store, if that’s all right.’

  He laughed. ‘Of course it’s all right. I could do that for ever. Though it doesn’t rate as high as feeding time, cuddling time and bathtime.’

  Her glance was tender. Every time she saw Steve with Liam, the memory of the depth of his longing for a child, and the extent of his devastation in those awful months after he’d had cancer, came back.

  When they met up again after she’d done her shopping he said, ‘Liam is getting hungry. If you’d like to feed him I have a couple of things to get myself.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said easily. ‘I’ll be on the seat over there when you come back.’

  He wanted to buy her a pair of amber earrings for her birthday. The jeweller’s they had passed earlier had the style that he wanted. The purchase was soon made and within minutes he was back where he’d left her.

  They headed back for home in the middle of the afternoon, with Liam asleep and Sallie and Steve lapsing into silence as they each thought their own thoughts. It wasn’t long before the village came into view and it was time to unload their purchases and hope that the peace of the day would continue.

  But when night-time came, nothing had changed. They went to their separate beds and Steve thought that a few hours of happiness weren’t going to change that. The day when Sallie held out her arms to him and asked him to make love to her was going to be a long time coming.

  While in the bedroom across the landing she was lying wide awake with his shirt in her arms and wishing that it could be him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  STEVE had engaged an architect to draw up the plans and he had been told that Sallie’s description of how she would want it to look must be followed to the letter, along with a couple of other things that she’d mentioned when she’d driven past and seen that the land had been sold.

  ‘Someone has bought the land in Bluebell Lane,’ she’d told him. ‘I hope they will build something really beautiful on it.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, like I said before, and with a garden room maybe, or a veranda, and a mooring stage by the river-bank, for canoeing or rowing.’

  ‘Sounds fantastic,’ he’d said. ‘Maybe you should have gone into house design instead of health care.’

  She’d smiled. ‘Those are just my preferences. They wouldn’t be everyone’s, but it would be sacrilege if someone built something ultra-modern on it.’

  ‘We’ll hav
e to see what develops, won’t we?’ he’d said as if only mildly interested, and the discussion had ended there.

  The day before Steve signed the papers that would make the land in Bluebell Lane his, was Sallie’s birthday and as it had approached he hadn’t been sure how the gesture he wanted to make would be received.

  In the years before their separation it had always been a very special day in his calendar, with a beautiful gift beside her breakfast plate on the morning, a special meal in the evening, sometimes followed by a show, and then to finish off the day they had made love, wrapped around with the special magic that they created for each other.

  This time it would be very different. They had spent her last three birthdays apart and he knew that thought would be uppermost in Sallie’s mind on the morning. There had been no gifts from him during that time and he was going to try to make amends.

  She was in the kitchen, preparing Liam’s breakfast, when he appeared, and while she was thus engaged he placed four packages beside her place at the dining table.

  ‘It’s a special day today,’ he was telling the baby when she came in with baby rice in a bowl.

  ‘Happy birthday, Sallie,’ he said quietly, without moving. ‘I hope that it will be happier than some you’ve had.’

  Her glance was on the gift-wrapped packages. ‘I would rather you hadn’t bothered going through the motions,’ she said stiffly. ‘Especially when I think back to what my birthdays used to be like.’

  She had put the bowl on the table and was looking down at his gifts without attempting to open them.

  ‘I never forgot your birthday,’ he said in the same quiet tone. ‘What you see there are my gifts to you for years one, two and three while we were apart, and the fourth is for today. Every time it came round I set off to bring your present and ended up turning back when I thought of what I’d done to you.’

  At that moment Liam decided that breakfast was a long time coming and raised his voice, so Steve picked up the bowl and began to feed him. When it was empty he looked up. Sallie was weeping silently with the unopened packages still there in front of her.