“I’m sorry,” I said again, and extricated my hand. There seemed nothing else to say.
He smiled again then, and said: “I’m glad you’ve joined the practice, Pippa. We need some young blood, and maybe - who knows? Maybe having you living with us will help Judith.”
“I’ll try to help, all I can,” I said warmly. Then a thought struck me. “Look, Peter - won’t - won’t Judith hate it - having me here in this room?”
He shook his head firmly. “Even if she does, she’ll have to learn to cope with it. She’s made this room into a shrine, and it’s just not healthy for her. No, it’s right for you to be here. Just having you here will help.”
I followed Peter downstairs into the surgery part of the house, feeling a little better now I understood Judith a little more. If only Max Lester weren’t so horrid to me, life here could promise to be very pleasant.
As though he’d read my thoughts, Peter said over his shoulder: “You mustn’t mind Lester’s bad temper, Pippa, He’s like that. He’s a good chap at heart, and he’ll come round to you, you’ll see.” He gave me another of his attractive smiles. “He won’t be able to help it - you’re a charming girl, and no one could sulk at you for long, even if he had been sent sprawling by you!” and, inevitably, I blushed.
As we came down the broad polished wooden staircase I looked round approvingly. The central hall of the house was big and warm, with a lively coal fire burning in the grate that almost filled one wall. On one side four doors bore labels, each with a doctor’s name on it, and I was pleased to notice that one already had my name on it.
“That was used as a storeroom,” Peter said, pointing to it. “But we fixed it up for you. I’ll show you in a moment. Now here” - and he pointed across the hall - “is the waiting-room - full already I daresay.” And I could hear people’s voices coming from beyond the closed door.
“This room here is for Barbara, the secretary and receptionist, and beyond our consulting rooms there is a small treatment room. We’re lucky - well equipped. It could be used as a minor operating theatre if we had to - though fortunately we never have. Now, I put your bag in your room - the medical bag I mean. The black one with the gold clasp.”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s my medical bag.” My father gave it to me when I passed my finals, and for a brief moment I felt the familiar grief well up in me as I remembered the way his tired lined face had lit up when I unwrapped it. Dad had been a leather worker, a superb craftsman, and he’d made the bag for me during the late nights, tired though he had been after long days at his bench, earning a living for all of us.
“I noticed it specially,” Peter said. “It’s a beauty. Now -”
The door that bore Max Lester’s name swung open, and Max came out, shrugging on his overcoat.
“Oh, there you are, at last, Cooper,” he grunted. “Look, that Chesterfield child - what did you start him on?”
“Chesterfield? Um - let’s see. Oh, the otitis media? I remember. I put him on tetracycline, six hourly -”
“Fine. If he hasn’t responded, I’ll arrange a bed for him at Fenbridge, right?”
“Fine. His mother won’t be particularly surprised. By the way, Max - have you finished with the microscope? I might need it this afternoon,” Peter said.
“Mmm. I put it in the storeroom,” Max grunted, making for the door.
“The storeroom? You mean Pippa’s consulting room,” Peter said.
“Oh, do I?” Max looked back at me. “I suppose a store-room will make a perfectly adequate consulting room for Dr Fenwick. For the time being. I have no doubt we’ll be calling it the storeroom again soon.” And he went out of the big door, and then I heard the roar of a car engine.
“Ouch,” I said softly, and Peter put his arm across my shoulders and gave me a friendly hug.
“Don’t take any notice of the old bear,” he said. “He’s always a misery till you get to know him.”
“Peter.”
We both whirled at the sound of Judith’s voice. She was standing on the stairs, looking down at us, and again I felt that absurd sense of guilt - and wondered if it was Judith’s glowering face that made me feel that way, rather than Peter’s easy comradeship.
“I wanted to do some shopping - may I use the car this afternoon? I’ll be back well before evening surgery.”
“I’m sorry, Judy - Max took it. His own is stuck in Fenbridge until tonight. You’ll have to do your shopping tomorrow.” He looked up at her with an odd expression on his face, and I tried to analyse it. Irritation, affection, impatience, anxiety, they were all there. And something else I couldn’t put my finger on.
“We really must start this clinic, Pippa,” Peter said. “I’m late already. I’ll see you at tea time, Judy -” and turning he led me into his consulting room, and rang the bell for the first patient.
It was an ante-natal clinic, and as each young pregnant woman came into the room, Peter introduced me and told me something of the history. There was a charming girl of twenty-four - just my own age - expecting twins, and I warmed to her when she said, “What’s your first name, doctor?” and then said, when I’d told her, “Lovely. If one of the twins is a girl, I’ll call her Phillipa. And if the other is a boy - why, I’ll call him Phillip! Pippa and Pip - won’t that be nice?”
“Lovely!” Peter said heartily. “And now let’s have a listen to see how Pip and Pippa or whoever they are are getting on -”
And so the afternoon wore on, and I was so interested and happy in what I was doing that it came as a surprise when Peter stretched and yawned and said, “That’s the lot for this week, then! Time for tea, and then evening surgery. Dr Redmond’s taking that.”
“Thank you for introducing me to the practice so pleasantly,” I said sincerely. “I really enjoyed this afternoon. I’m looking forward to learning more about Tetherdown and the people I’ll be looking after in it.”
“Tell you what, young Pippa!” Peter said. “Tomorrow, come on visits with me. It’ll give you a chance to see something of the town, and since I’ve got to finish up at our branch surgery in the afternoon, we’ll get a chance to see some of the countryside too. What do you say?”
“Oh, that would be lovely! If Dr Redmond agrees of course - he may want me to do something else.”
“No, he’s leaving the planning to me these days - Max too of course, but mostly me.” He got up and made for the door, standing back first to let me go in front of him.
“That’s settled then -”
As I opened the door, the phone rang, and making a face he went back to his desk. Over my shoulder I said, “Indeed it is settled. We’ll call it a date!” and I went out, leaving him to deal with the phone call.
And almost ran into Max Lester, who was standing outside the door, his face furious.
“Already?” he said, and his voice was so sharp I jumped.
“What do you mean?” I said, my voice showing my surprise.
“Making - ‘dates’ - as you call them. Listen to me, Dr Fenwick. This is a big busy practice. We need another doctor, not a flibberty fly-by-night miss who just plays at medicine. What we don’t need is a disruptive influence, certainly where the Coopers are concerned. You’ve already reduced Judith to a state of misery - I just left her in floods of tears, and half drunk, because she’s not stupid, you know. She saw the set you made at her husband, just as I did. Now, leave him alone. Get on with the job you came here to do - and as far as I’m concerned the sooner we replace you with a real doctor - a man who cares about the job and not his own social life - the better. You can be sure I’ll do my damnedest to see that happens very soon,” and he turned on his heel, and ran up the stairs, leaving me shaking with temper, and confusion, and on the verge of tears.
I hardly knew where to turn. To be attacked in this fashion - it was hateful. Desperately, I looked round, and seeing the door with my name on it, pushed it open, and almost ran in, to lean against it on the other side, trying to regain my composure. And what I saw
finally broke my control altogether.
There was a desk in the centre of the room, and on it was my lovely black leather bag - the one Dad had made for me so lovingly. But it wasn’t the way it had looked when he had made it.
It was slashed into great gaping holes, its contents lying strewn on the blotter, the handle ripped off, a travesty of its original self.
I went over to the desk, and put out one shaking hand to touch it. It fell on its side, showing the interior. And there I saw that the red silken lining was ruined, smothered in black. Whoever had slashed the bag had emptied a full bottle of ink into it, too.
The door opened, and Peter came in, inquiry on his face. I looked up at him, and my control went, so that tears ran down my face.
“Who could have done such a thing, Peter? Who? Have I made someone hate me so much already? Who could have been so cruel?” I said piteously.
And Peter came and put his arms round me, so that I wept on his shoulder, letting out all the build-up of grief and anxiety that had been lurking in the background of my mind all day.
CHAPTER THREE
I can’t pretend that my first evening in Tetherdown was a really enjoyable one. I excused myself from having dinner with Peter and Judith Cooper, pleading tiredness. The real reason was that I couldn’t have faced Judith, not without blurting out what I was thinking - and that would have made things impossible for me at Downlands.
I was completely convinced that it was Judith who had damaged my bag, who had vented her half-drunken spleen on one of my most treasured possessions. All the evidence pointed to her. Her husband had displayed a liking for me that had verged on frank admiration. She must have seen me as a rival - an idea which was laughable. After all, I was more than half-way to being completely besotted with Charles, far away in London - but she didn’t know about Charles of course.
And then there was the matter of the turret room. It was all very well for Peter to say it was high time the room was used, to try to lay the ghost of the baby Emma by installing me in her fairytale room, but how could he be sure that Judith had accepted the idea as readily as she had seemed to? Perhaps the thought of me in that room had been enough to push her over the edge of rational behaviour into the act of crazy destruction she had committed.
And then - she had collapsed into floods of tears. Why? I had no reason to doubt that Max Lester had spoken the truth when he’d told me that Judith was upset and it was my fault. Whatever else Max Lester was - rude, bad-tempered, prejudiced - of one thing I felt quite sure. He was brutally truthful. He couldn’t tell a lie any more than he could act one - which was why he was behaving so sourly to me. He disliked me and made no bones about it.
So it must have been Judith who had damaged my bag, for who else was there who -
And then I sat bolt upright in my bath - for that was where I had been lying in heaps of fragrant bubbles and thinking - and felt my head spin as another idea came swooping into it. I’d been assuming that the culprit had been Judith - but couldn’t it be someone else? The only qualification a person needed was to dislike me - dislike me enough to want to get rid of me and not care what methods were used to achieve those ends. Couldn’t that just as easily be Max Lester as Judith Cooper? In fact wasn’t it more likely?
And then I shook my head and subsided into the bubbles again. No. This act of petty vandalism had been committed by a woman. I like my own sex but I have to be honest and admit that there are some women who can be very nasty in a way a man can’t. And I couldn’t imagine Max Lester standing over my bag with a knife in his hands. Or could I?
And so my thoughts went on, spinning like a squirrel on a treadmill. What with fatigue and distress and all that thinking I thought I’d never get to sleep, but I curled up in the little white and gold bed and tried to make myself think of nice things, like Charles. But that only made me miserable, made tears prick behind my closed eyelids. I tried to think about my brother instead -
He was standing beside me, ringing a handbell and crying monotonously “Lend me a fiver, Flip. Lend me a fiver -” And then I was awake and groping for the telephone on the bedside table. “Mmm?” I said sleepily, feeling as though I were still at the hospital and answering a night call.
“Pippa? This is Peter Cooper.” The thin voice clacking at the end of the phone brought me back to the present with a rush. “Look, Pippa, I’m sorrier than I can say to do this to you on your very first night, but I’ve got to. Both Dr Redmond and Max Lester are out on a call - they’re dealing with a tricky high forceps delivery at one of the farms - and I - I can’t leave Judith at the moment. She’s ill.” He paused for a moment. “You understand what I mean, Pippa?”
Indeed I did. Judith must be in an alcoholic state of some sort. “Do you want me to come down?” I asked crisply.
“Lord, no!” he said. “I can cope with her. No, it’s just that there’s been an urgent call for a visit. A baby, from one of the cottages down on the north side of the industrial estate. It’s difficult to work out just what the problem is, from the call. The mother phoned, and she sounded very upset - in a fearful flap. And then hung up on me! I think someone ought to go, and as I say, I can’t -”
“Then of course I shall,” I said, already out of bed and stretching to reach my clothes. “I’ll dress and come down and you can give me directions.”
I’ve had a lot of experience of dressing hurriedly for night calls, and I was downstairs and tapping at Peter’s door within a few minutes.
He opened it and came out, and as he did I saw over his shoulder into the room. Judith was lying sprawled on the bed, her face flushed, and breathing heavily. The room smelled stale and unpleasant, and Peter had a drawn look on his tired white face. He was still dressed, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, and as I looked at him, I felt a twinge of pity. Such a nice good chap, tied to a woman like Judith -
“Bless you for this, Pippa. It’s rotten to have to take a night call when you don’t even know your way around the town -”
“Forget it,” I said. “The sooner I start real work, the sooner I’ll learn about the practice. Where do I go?”
He gave me clear brief instructions, and I nodded as I repeated them to fix them in my memory. Then Peter said, “You can take my car - here are the keys. And you’ll find my spare medical bag in the boot. I always keep an emergency set there. You use it until we can get yours repaired.”
As I let myself out of the house I shivered a little. It was cold, but not too dark because a late moon was just dropping towards the trees on the west side of the town. The car started easily, and I swung it out and into the main road, turning left as Peter had instructed.
Even though I was concentrating on the journey I had a chance to take in some of the passing scene, and I soon realized that I was leaving the pretty part of the town behind, leaving the wide streets and trees and snug sizeable houses for a much poorer section. The houses became small and terraced, and even in the fitful moonlight I could see that here cleanliness and neatness didn’t matter nearly as much as they did in other parts of the town.
I lost precious minutes looking for the street Peter had given directions to, but at last I spotted the sign high on the side of one of the houses. Paradise Street. Not very heavenly, I thought wryly as I noticed the grimy windows, and paint peeling from doors, and the garbage piled in the gutters. The house I was looking for was the very end one, flanking the railway line, and as I swung the car round the corner, past the telephone kiosk - the call must have come from there, I thought automatically - a train rattled and roared past the end of the street, drowning the sound of the car completely, making so much noise I could hardly hear myself think.
I had parked the car at the edge of the dirty pavement and was standing on the doorstep by the time the train had rattled away into the distance and silence returned to the dingy little street. I raised my hand to knock, and then stopped as I heard muffled voices.
There was a deep one, a man’s voice, and it sounded harsh and
angry, though I couldn’t make out the words he was using. Then there was a softer feminine voice, and this one sounded as though it were pleading, somehow - and then the thin wail of a baby cut across, and I nodded to myself. No doubt about it - this must be the house.
I knocked on the door and the voices stopped immediately, and even the baby’s cry stopped in mid-wail, as though it had been switched off. I waited, puzzled. Surely having sent for a doctor they must realize that was who was knocking? And I knew there was someone awake to hear me. Why didn’t they answer? I knocked again, louder, thumping the rusty knocker against the cracked wood with a long rat-tat, but still there was no answer.
I stepped back, and stared up at the house, but all I could see were blank shuttered windows, with grimy curtains pulled secretly across them, and not a glimmer of light showing through.
I paused, hesitantly, and then I heard it again - the wail of a baby, cut off sharply, as though someone had put a hand across its mouth -
Quite suddenly, I was angry. Furiously angry. I had been called out of a warm bed on a chilly night, sent traipsing around a strange town in answer to an emergency call, and now I was being left standing on the doorstep like a bailiff or something instead of a doctor. And on top of that somewhere in this house there was a baby, a sick baby - for the sound of its cry, high pitched and thin, told me that - and someone was ill-treating it. That was all I needed to make me lose my temper.
I flung myself at the door and beat furiously on it, shouting at the top of my voice.
“Open this door - do you hear? Open it at once! I’m a doctor and I’ve come to see that baby, and unless you open the door I send for the police! Now, let me in!”
Down the street I felt rather than heard or saw front doors open, heads peer out, and a bit of me was amused when all of them disappeared when I said the word “police”.
The Doctors of Downlands Page 3