Hilltop Tryst

by Betty Neels

  Kathy looked a little pale, but her father looked remarkably well as they went up the path to the church. Beatrice rearranged her sister’s train and followed them up the aisle, and a whisper of sound went through the church at the sight of the four pretty girls, quite serious now, looking ahead of them to where the bridegroom stood. However, Beatrice allowed her eyes to wander to the pews on her family’s side, looking for Colin. He was there, well turned out, quite sure of himself—and standing beside him was Dr Latimer. She hadn’t expected that; true, she hadn’t sent out many of the invitations for she had been busy for the greater part of each day, but no one had said that he would be a guest. But there he was, rather larger than life on account of his great size, wearing his morning coat as though he were in the habit of doing so frequently—and it was certainly not hired from Moss Bros, Beatrice reflected as she glided slowly past the pew, for it fitted to perfection. He turned his head and looked at her, and she felt her cheeks pinken most annoyingly. They were at the altar now, and she realised that she hadn’t looked at Colin at all; she must remember to smile at him as they left the church.

  She did, smiling into his rather sulky face and ignoring the doctor, and once they were back at the house she wandered around the marquee, greeting friends and family, and edged her way to where he was standing. If she had hoped for a compliment about her appearance, she was to be disappointed; she didn’t know why he was so sullen, it was a side of him she hadn’t encountered, and she asked him, without mincing matters, what was the matter. ‘It’s Kathy’s wedding. You should at least look as though you were enjoying yourself…’

  He caught her hand. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m sorry. You see, I’ve been sort of wishing that I was the bridegroom, and you…’ He paused and smiled. ‘I mustn’t say more, not yet.’

  And in any case he hadn’t the chance; an elderly uncle Beatrice hadn’t seen in years appeared at her elbow and marched her off to have what he called a cosy little chat, and which lasted until it was time to toast the bridal pair. It was then that he disappeared from her side and Dr Latimer took his place, a glass of champagne in each hand. He offered her one, and said, ‘Hello, Beatrice. You look very fetching in that pink thing.’

  She thanked him gravely. ‘I didn’t know that you would be here.’

  ‘No—well, I don’t suppose it would have made much difference if you had. When do we hear the next peal of wedding bells?’

  She took a sip of champagne. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she observed coldly.

  ‘Don’t be coy. Not ten minutes ago you and young Wood were holding hands.’

  ‘I’m not coy,’ she snapped, and then, ‘I liked it—having my hand held.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m sorry if I snapped. You have always been so kind to all of us, and I’m very glad you could come today.’

  ‘So am I. Kathy is a beautiful bride and they look very happy. Your father has stood up to all this very well. I’ve asked him to Salisbury tomorrow, and I’ll have a look at him before I go away.’

  ‘Away? Where to? For a long time?’

  He smiled faintly. ‘I have a short lecture tour: Paris, Brussels and the Hague. I shall be gone for a week.’

  She beamed her relief. ‘Oh, that’s all right, then—I—we all feel safe about Father while you’re looking after him.’ She added frankly, ‘I had no idea that you were so important. Dr Forbes was telling me.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Have you seen Great-Aunt Sybil?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed. She addressed me as “young man”, which did a great deal for my ego.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think your ego needed anything done for it—oh, Father’s going to make a speech…’

  She didn’t speak to him again, only exchanged a brief goodbye as he left later. And as Dr Forbes had said that he would drive her father into Salisbury since he had to go there himself, she wouldn’t see Dr Latimer there; she was aware of a vague regret about that.

  Her father came back the next day feeling very pleased with himself. He had passed Dr Latimer’s meticulous examination with flying colours, and provided that he was sensible there was no reason why he shouldn’t take on the less heavy work of the practice.

  ‘What I shall do,’ he observed to Beatrice and her mother, as they sat in the drawing-room after supper, ‘is get hold of an older chap; he can deal with the night work and the more distant farms until I’m up to it again. There’s that empty house at the other end of the village—it belongs to Forbes, and he wants to rent it out, not sell it. It would do nicely for a man with a small family.’

  Mr Browning puffed at his pipe and looked pleased with himself.

  ‘What about Colin?’ Beatrice made her voice casual.

  ‘I’ll give him a month’s notice—he’s a locum and he came on that understanding, did he not?’

  ‘He’s worked very hard,’ persisted Beatrice. ‘He knows a great deal about the practice.’

  ‘Good experience for him. I’ll see him in the morning.’

  Beatrice went to bed presently, but not to sleep. Somehow she had taken it for granted that Colin would stay on, perhaps as a partner. The future, still vague in her mind, had been full of exciting possibilities, and it had suddenly become empty. She got up early and took Knotty for his walk before having her breakfast and plunging into her busy day. The house was still in a state of upheaval after the wedding; there were things to pack up and return, the caterers to collect the leftovers, a posse of men to take down the marquee. No one had time to speak to anyone, and since Colin had been called out to an injured horse Mr Browning had no opportunity to talk to him.

  They met at lunch, all of them edgy from the excitement of the wedding and its aftermath of muddle, and no one talked much, but as they got up from the table Mr Browning said, ‘Colin, will you come to my study? There is something I should like to discuss with you.’

  Colin jumped to his feet, smiling, and Beatrice thought how boyish he looked and how willing he was to please. The two men went away and she started to clear the table and carry the dishes to the kitchen for Mrs Perry to wash. Colin, she felt sure, would be able to persuade her father to let him stay. She wandered off to one of the paddocks to cast an eye over the old donkey abandoned by a party of tinkers. His hoofs were in a sorry state, but good food and rest would give the beast a new lease of life. Her father had accepted him without demur, knowing that he would never be paid for his treatment, and she remembered with a small frown that Colin had voiced the opinion that the donkey should have been turned over to the RSPCA, or failing that, sent to the knackers. Then, seeing her look of horror at his suggestion, he had made haste to tell her that he was only joking. He had caught her hand, smiled into her eyes and told her that she was soft-hearted and that he loved her for it.

  She did her usual afternoon chores, made sure that everything was ready for the early evening clinic and went along to the surgery. Colin was there, sitting at the desk, writing. The face he turned to her was, as usual, smiling. ‘There you are. When you are not around I feel lost! Come and sit down; I’ve almost finished this letter. What a bore all this paperwork is…’

  ‘You should let Miss Scott do it; she knows everything about the practice and she’s marvellous at letter-writing.’

  ‘Oh, I like to keep my hand in.’ He put his pen down. ‘It’s such a glorious day. Do you suppose we might sneak off for a walk after tea?’

  Her heart sang. ‘Why not? I’ve seen to the sick animals and got the surgery ready—we could spare half an hour. Father wanted to see Dr Forbes’s dog and he’s the first case.’

  So after tea, a rather silent meal in the drawing-room, she accompanied Colin across the paddocks and into the narrow lane running behind the garden. At first they talked trivialities, but presently Colin took her arm. ‘You know, Beatrice, we get on awfully well, don’t we? We’re friends?’ And, when she nodded, ‘I’d like it to be something more than that—I’ve nothing much to offer, but I intend to make my way to the top in record time. I’ll not say any more now,
that wouldn’t be fair, but think about it, darling—you’re everything a man could want, and so beautiful.’

  Before she could speak, he added, ‘Don’t say anything, just remember what I’ve said.’

  And he began to talk about the good results he had had from a new drug he had been using on a nearby pig farm.

  Beatrice passed the next week or two in a state of dreaminess, interlarded by vague doubts which she couldn’t put a name to but which persisted at the back of her mind. Her father had said nothing more about Colin going, and she hadn’t asked. Surely if Colin had been going to leave he would have told her? She allowed herself to dwell in a state of euphoria and ignored the niggling doubts.

  Which made it all the more nightmarish when the doubts became certainty. Pure unlucky chance had sent her back to the surgery after the short afternoon session. Colin had told her that he was going out to one of the farms, her father was resting and her mother was in the kitchen with Mrs Perry, making jam. Beatrice went unhurriedly across the garden which separated the surgery from the house, intent on collecting the towels they had used. The door to the surgery was open and she walked in, her sandalled feet making no noise, and stopped doubtfully when she heard Colin’s voice. He was on the phone, and the door to the office was half-open. She took a step forward to see why he was still there and then she heard her name.

  ‘Beatrice? I’ve got her eating out of my hand. No, I haven’t told her I’m going; I’ve a couple of weeks still, time enough to persuade her to marry me—her old man can’t do much if his daughter marries me, can he? Only offer me the partnership.’ He laughed. ‘Oh, she’s OK. Not my type, but I can’t have everything, can I?’

  He was silent, apparently listening to someone at the other end of the phone, and Beatrice stood like a statue, her world slowly tumbling around her, not quite believing her ears. A great wave of humiliation seemed to sweep over her, doused by indignation and rage as he spoke again, ‘I’ve been through the books—it’s a first-class practice, plenty of lolly; I shan’t be able to get my hands on it at once, but after a few months, once we’re married, I’ll get my besotted Beatrice to hand some of it over.’

  He laughed again. ‘No, I’m not a rogue, just a man with an eye to the main chance. Besides, she thinks I’m the only man in the world…’

  Beatrice had been frozen to the spot, now suddenly she turned and sped out of the door, running blindly to get away. She had no idea that the tears were streaming down her face, and she couldn’t have cared less if she had known. She could hardly believe it, and she couldn’t see where she was going, so when she ran full tilt into Dr Latimer, she let out a breathy yelp and tried to pull away from him.

  He caught her neatly and made no effort to let her go. ‘Dear, oh, dear.’ His voice was disarmingly gentle. ‘No, don’t talk for a moment. Let me mop you up, and then presently you shall tell me all about it.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BEATRICE choked, sniffed and allowed him to dry her sopping cheeks, but presently she took the handkerchief from him, blew her nose in a no-nonsense fashion and mumbled, ‘Could we go away from here—please?’

  He flung an arm around her shoulders, where it lay as solid as an oak and just as heavy but strangely comforting. ‘My car. I’ve only just driven up, no one knows I’m here—we’ll go for a drive.’

  He drove unhurriedly through the narrow lanes, going towards Tisbury and then tooling around the maze of still narrower lanes; no distance from Hindley, but to all intents and purposes buried in remote country.

  ‘Nice here,’ he observed. ‘Restful and delightfully green.’

  Beatrice sat quietly beside him, his hanky screwed up in a wet ball in her hands, and she said politely, ‘Yes, it is lovely. You know your way around here; but of course, you stay with the Elliotts, don’t you?’

  He didn’t answer directly. ‘I know them very well.’

  They had come to a widening in the lane and a gap in the trees on either side of it. He stopped the car. ‘A pity there’s a hill in the way, otherwise we would get a splendid view of Wardour Castle.’

  She turned obediently to look, and heard his gentle sigh. ‘And now, are you going to tell me what happened?’

  ‘No—oh, no,’ said Beatrice, and instantly contradicted herself. ‘He wants the practice—I heard him telephoning. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the door was open and I heard my name.’ She gave a sniff. ‘That’s why he was looking through the books, but he said he’d got them off the shelf by mistake. Father’s getting a partner and Colin is to go, and I thought…he said—he said that he could easily get a partnership if he m-married me, only he doesn’t love me.’

  The doctor sat quietly beside her, sorting out her mutterings and making sense of them. He asked quietly, ‘Did Colin tell you that he was leaving?’

  ‘No. And Father didn’t either. I asked Father if Colin couldn’t stay as his partner, but he wants an older man, only I thought that Colin—he said that he hoped he could stay and I… I’ve been such a fool, haven’t I?’

  ‘No. You may feel one, but you aren’t one. If he gave you to understand that he was in love with you and hoped one day to marry you, you had every reason to believe him.’

  ‘But he was only pretending because he knows Father’s practice is a good one, and it would have been so easy for him to take over in time and have all the benefit of Father’s hard work without having done much towards it himself. He wanted the money, I suppose.’ She gave a shuddering breath. ‘I thought he wanted me.’

  She hadn’t looked at the doctor once, which was just as well, for his usually placid expression had been replaced by a look of ferocity, but his voice was as calm as usual. ‘And how fortunate that you discovered that he didn’t before any harm was done. Just think, if you hadn’t heard him just now, you might possibly have married him and been unhappy ever after.’

  She said in a woebegone voice, ‘Yes, I’m sure you are right. But I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Do? Why, behave as though you know nothing of this conversation of Colin’s. Of course, he will—er—make overtures of a romantic nature; but forewarned is forarmed, my dear, and I’m perfectly certain that you will be able to deal with those as they occur.’

  ‘Oh, will I?’

  ‘But of course—all women have an inborn instinct for frustrating a man in his intentions. I have no doubt that you are well equipped to do this just as well as any other.’

  He watched her reluctant smile and said, ‘That’s better. You’re hurt and upset, but believe me, you will get over it, although that’s cold comfort now, isn’t it? But you have your father to think of as well—on no account must he be worried or bothered. Can you carry on as usual, do you suppose? You have become very friendly with Colin, have you not? Perhaps there is rather more than friendship on your part?’ He took no notice of her quick breath. ‘He goes in two weeks, doesn’t he? Not long, and you’re a level-headed girl, not given to hysterics.’

  ‘I don’t feel at all level-headed at the moment,’ declared Beatrice in a tear-clogged voice.

  He turned to look at her, his blue eyes impersonal, just as though he were examining a patient. ‘Not quite your usual self, perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘If I drive you back, can you manage to get to your room and repair the damage?’

  Sensible advice, and yet she found herself wishing peevishly that he wasn’t quite so sensible.

  She said with something of a snap, ‘Yes, of course.’ And after a moment, ‘Thank you for listening to me and giving me advice. You’re quite right, and I’ll do what you suggest.’

  He started the car again. ‘If you need help, give me a ring. You know my London number, and if I’m not there I can be reached.’

  ‘You’re very kind. It’s only two weeks…’

  Not long, but how she dreaded them.

  Back at home, he opened her door. ‘Off you go,’ he urged her. ‘I’m going to see your father and mother, and no one need know that I arrived half an hour ago.’
He gave her an encouraging pat on her shoulders and she said goodbye and ran indoors. No one was about, and she gained her room and spent twenty minutes getting her face back to normal. Only then did she go back downstairs, to meet Dr Latimer in the hall, bidding her mother and father goodbye. His suave, ‘Ah, Beatrice, how are you? I’m so sorry that I have to go just as we meet again,’ disconcerted her for a moment.

  However, after only a tiny pause, she said in her usual calm way, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was in my room cleaning up after seeing to the kittens. But you’ll be down again? Are you pleased with Father?’

  ‘Yes, indeed I am, but no excitement or exertion, from what he tells me he is doing enough for the moment.’

  He smiled at her, shook hands with her mother and father and drove himself away.

  ‘So good of him to call,’ said her mother. ‘He seems to come this way a great deal. Perhaps he visits someone…he’s not engaged, is he? I mean, he could be coming to see a fiancée, couldn’t he?’ She looked at Beatrice. ‘I know he doesn’t stay with the Elliotts, not lately, anyhow. I wonder where he goes?’

  ‘I dare say he has other friends than the Elliotts, Mother; he might even have other patients in this part of the world.’

  ‘Yes, dear. Oh, Colin popped in to say that he’d gone over to Muston’s Farm, and if he’s not back could you get the clinic organised?’

  Beatrice bent to pat Knotty. ‘Yes, of course. Father, did you want to see Dr Forbes’s dog again? He’s due for another injection.’

  Her father nodded. ‘Yes—I’ll take the clinic too. There aren’t many booked, are there?’ And, at her questioning look, ‘Dr Latimer suggested that I should do so and see how I felt.’

  She wouldn’t have to see Colin again then until the evening. She sighed with relief.

  He was at supper, of course, entertaining them with a light-hearted account of his visit to Muston’s Farm, and at the end of it suggesting that Beatrice might go over the patients booked for the next day. It was something they had done several times, sitting in the clinic, discussing each case at length and finding time to talk about other things as well. But this evening that was something Beatrice just couldn’t do. She made the excuse that she had several phone calls to make to friends, and a letter she simply had to write to a friend who had gone to live in Canada.