' Well, to begin with, there was a dirty old cooking range in here which was neither useful nor ornamental, the paintwork was all a horrible donkey brown, so was the oak beam. The walls had a perfectly ghastly wallpaper on—a dingy beige with some sort of flowered pattern.'
Sounds dreadful,' agreed Sara. It just shows what can be done with old property. And what about the rest of the cottage ?
Sara had noticed the change of expression in the woman's face as they had talked. Obviously, the cottage meant a lot to her, possibly for the memories it held
of her husband. It was apparent, too, that there was not much wrong with Mrs Warby physically.
Would you like to see it, Doctor ? ' she asked.
Sara said she would, feeling that this woman's needs were of a different kind from those met with drugs and medicines.
The whole cottage had been completely modernized, yet all its centuries-old charm restored. A Victorian ' parlour' type fireplace had been taken out of the sitting-room and a stone one with a medieval fire basket inserted in its place, oak beams, once covered with wallpaper, had been exposed and treated against rot, a bathroom had been added with a coloured suite, a hot and cold water system, and a kitchen any housewife could be happy in, with rows of copper saucepans, a Welsh dresser, side by side with a refrigerator and a washing machine.
Mrs Warby, how wonderful! If only all the old cottages in East Norton were like this. Did it cost an awful lot to have done ? '
' We didn't have it done,' came the answer quietly. ' My husband did it himself—with what help I could give him in the way of burning old paint off, repainting and decorating.'
Sara followed her back to the living-room. ' You mean he built these fireplaces and the bathroom and everything himself ? '
Yes, everything.'
Was he a builder or a plumber by trade ? '
' No, just clever with his hands. Will you—have a cup of tea with me, Doctor ? '
' Why, yes, thank you, I think I might. I've no more calls to make. But, Mrs Warby, you haven't told me why yet why you sent for Dr Henderson. Have you :been feeling ill ? '
It's my heart, Doctor, didn't Dr Henderson tell you ? I'd have come to the surgery, but apart from anything
else, I feel as weak as a kitten. I've no appetite, I don't sleep well, and I get the most awful headaches.'
' Oh, dear, how unpleasant for you. Would you like me to examine you first—or shall we have the cup of tea ? '
Whichever you like, Doctor.'
Then let's have the tea, shall we ? '
Mrs Warby went into the kitchen to make it. In view of what Uncle John had told her, Sara thought it likely that Mrs Warby was suffering from neurasthenia. He certainly would not come to the conclusions he had until he had thoroughly examined her. Her husband had died five years ago. She was lonely, yet refused to join in any of the village activities. When she returned, Sara asked about her family, and learned that she and her husband had had no children.
It must be very lonely for you,' she suggested.
But Mrs Warby shook her head. I don't mind. I read a lot, you see. Books are wonderful company. And of course I watch television.'
You—haven't made many friends, then, in the village ? '
Friends ? No. I've tried. At least, I did when we first came, but nobody seems to have time for you. At least, not time to form a proper friendship. You invite them to call, you ask them in to have tea, but do you get an invitation in return ? Oh no. After a while, you stop trying, and by the time other newcomers arrive in the village, you've become just the same as the rest. Can't be bothered.'
Her bitterness was like a world without the sun, a desolate place with stunted trees, no blade of grass. An emptiness. A void. Sara fought her way through it.
It's a pity you did give up, Mrs Warby. Only this evening in surgery, I was talking to a young woman who was almost desperate for someone to talk to. She's having her first baby, and doesn't know a soul. Of course, she hasn't been here very long.'
' Poor thing. But then she has got her husband, hasn't she ? '
" Yes, she has,' Sara agreed in a quiet voice. But I imagine what she wants most of all is another woman, to talk to. Er—but not one who will tell her silly frightening tales of all the difficult childbirths they've ever heard of.'
You're not suggesting that I should go knocking at her door, are you, Doctor ?
Well, no, but it does seem a pity that somebody doesn't hold out the hand of friendship to her.' Hasn't she any next-door neighbours ? '
I don't know. By the way, what about your neighbour, Mrs Warby ? Who does live next door ? '
An elderly man, it appeared, who also lived alone, but had his family scattered around the village.
' Of course, what's required is a common meeting ground,' Sara said. ' Especially for women. They seem to need to get together more than men do. They have so many problems and so much to give, and they also need to get out of their own homes occasionally.'
A mutinous line had settled around Mrs Warby's mouth. If you're trying to get me to join the W.I., Doctor, you won't succeed. I've tried it. You brave a cold, dark winter's night to sit in an equally cold village hall, and what happens ? Nobody speaks to you, you sit drinking a cup of tea all on your own, you sit through what's more often than not a boring talk, then you come home again and nobody even bothers to say goodnight to you. When you get home, your fire has gone out and you discover you've missed a particularly good television programme.'
Sara laughed. ' Oh, dear, what a melancholy picture, Mrs Warby Well, I don't know anything about the W.I. at all, but certainly half the women in the village appear to belong to it. Trying to persuade you to join, however, had not entered my head. Women certainly
'need something, but whether the W.I. is the answer, I'm sure I don't know as yet.' She put down her empty cup. ' A lovely cup of tea, thank you, Mrs Warby. And now, what about my having a look at you ? If you'll just unfasten- your blouse, I'll listen to your heart first of all.'
As Sara had anticipated, there were no heart sounds indicating any serious trouble. The headache Mrs Warby complained of, both frontal and occipital, appeared to have no organic cause. There was no stiffness of the neck, no disturbances of vision.
' Do you get any pain behind the ear ? ' Sara asked her.
No, not really. It's more at my temples and at the back.'
Could he fibrositis, of course. Are the headaches there all the time or do you have periods when they're absent ? '
It appeared she had spasms, days when she never seemed to be free, then periods when she wasn't troubled. Do you have any drowsiness ? '
No. I sometimes wish I did.'
' Any sharp, sort of lightning pains ? '
Not really.'
Sickness ? '
' I do suffer from indigestion'
' I see.' Sara considered for a moment. In her experience patients like Mrs Warby never liked to be told bluntly that there was nothing wrong with them. In any case, it wouldn't be strictly true. So she compromised. Well, Mrs Warby, there doesn't seem to be anything terribly wrong. I'll give you some tablets for the headaches and for the indigestion. All right ? '
Mrs Warby frowned. But if there's nothing wrong with my heart, why do I have palpitations ? '
I didn't say there was nothing wrong,' Sara said patiently. I said there was nothing terribly wrong—.
which is a great deal different.' Then she added, watching the other's expression: wouldn't try -to hide
anything from you, believe me, Mrs Warby.'
Hearing it put this way. Mrs Warby seemed mollified. Her, features relaxed.
' I'm glad of that, Doctor, and it was good of you to come and see me and to take so much -trouble. I— know you're a busy person, but if at any time you should be passing, and you feel like a cup of coffee or a cup of tea, please drop in.'
Why, thank you, Mrs Warby, I'd love to. Now, I really must go, I'm afraid, otherwise Dr Henderson will be getting worr
ied about me. It's been very nice meeting you, and I'm sure we shall see each other often.'
Sara thought her patient looked brighter than when she first saw her, and was convinced that loneliness was the major part 'of her trouble. In spite of clubs and societies, it was astonishing how.. many lonely people there were, both in towns as well as in the country. As she drove home, she pondered over what Mrs Warby had said about the W.I. Was it true that a woman could be a member of something like that and still feel a lack of friendship ? Were the meetings boring ? Or had Mrs Warby been too inward-looking ? Still was. How often one heard the expression that some wanted taking out of themselves '. The only way to a really full and happy life was to become free of oneself. But it wasn't easy, and some found it more difficult than others. There was a modicum of shyness in everyone, and this was so often mistaken for unfriendliness. Perhaps Mrs Warby had hit upon one or two bad nights at the W.I. meetings. All the same, there must be something wrong somewhere. Sara was determined to speak to Alys about it.
An opportunity came the very next evening. Alys and Bob dropped in for an hour or so, and Alys brought with her an invitation to a coffee morning.
If you can only look in for five minutes, I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet one or two people,' Alys said.
' Thanks, I'd like to. As a matter of fact, I was hearing some criticisms of the W.I. the other day.'
Alys grimaced. I dare say. We come in for our share, usually from people who know nothing about it.' ' This was from one of your ex-members.'
Oh. Oh dear ! Now Alys was genuinely concerned. We do sometimes get a new member who comes and is rather unlucky. It's a poor speaker—one can't always guarantee that they're going to be good—or the poor unfortunate new member happens to sit next to someone who isn't particularly outgoing. Then before you've got time to do anything about it, the woman has left almost as soon as she's joined, and is probably put off for good.
But what do you do about someone like that ? Doesn't somebody call to see them or do anything about getting them back ? '
' Quite often, yes. But people won't always say why they don't want to come again. Or they virtually slam the door in your face. Who's the woman in question, anyway ? '
But Sara hesitated. I don't know that I ought to tell you. She really is terribly lonely, though, and needs help badly. I won't tell you who it is. It would be a breach of confidence, but I might try and get her along to your coffee morning. What's it in aid of, anyway ? Your own funds ? '
No,' Alys said almost indignantly, it's to raise money for a Christmas party and gifts for the old people of the village.'
Sorry,' laughed Sara. Then she asked Alys more about the Women's Institute and what kind of things they did, and by the time Alys had finished, she was quite interested.
I'm impressed,' she said.
I thought you might be. How about joining ? '
I don't know. I couldn't promise to be a very active or useful member.'
I wouldn't worry about that. But I'm sure you'll find it interesting and worthwhile.'
Sara was looking forward to Sunday, the day Oliver Clayton had promised to show her round the forestry. There had been so many perfectly beautiful autumn days, and she was hoping the good weather would last out. But when Sunday came, though the day started out well enough, after lunch the sky became overcast and a steady drizzle settled in.
It's no day for tramping through the Chase,' John Henderson remarked, glancing through the window. Why not change your mind and just entertain him here to tea ? '
Thanks, Uncle John, but Oliver mentioned our going to have tea somewhere, in any case. If we stay out very long, maybe I could bring him back to supper—if that's all right with Jessie, too.'
He laughed. Oh, that'll be all right with Jessie. She always cooks mountains of food.'
Sara glanced at him affectionately. Uncle John, you really have been feeling better lately ? '
He returned her look. Yes, my dear, I have. Having you here has made all the difference in the world.'
I'm glad.'
And you're happy ? ' he queried. ' You're settling down and getting to know people ? The patients all seem to like you.'
She gave a half-rueful smile. Well, I'm glad of that, anyhow,' she answered, thinking a little regretfully of Mrs Williams and the vicar's wife. She hadn't made much of a hit with those two ladies, at all events. Nor with Jim Crombie. But not for the world would she have mentioned this to Uncle John. I've been glad of
one thing,' she went on. In a country district, one might have expected a little opposition to a woman doctor. I believe prejudice still clings, here and there. But I've seen no evidence of it here. I've only had one patient who said he wanted to see you.'
Oh yes, the fellow Marsh who turned out to be a diabetic. I expect that was just a natural shyness of a woman doctor. At least, natural for him. There are many elderly women who prefer a woman doctor, though they don't mind so much if he's old and decrepit, like me,'
' Old and decrepit ? Nonsense, Uncle John '
The door bell rang. Ah, that will be Oliver now,' Sara said. ' I'll pop upstairs and put my things on. Tell him I won't be long, Uncle John, Will you ? '
She passed Jessie on her way to answer the door and went upstairs. Oliver was very prompt— a few minutes early, in fact. Still, Uncle John would enjoy having a chat with him, so she wouldn't hurry. She opened her wardrobe. One very wet and dismal day in. Yorkshire a few weeks before she left, she had bought a rather glamorous rain outfit to cheer herself up, a shiny black raincoat, a pair of white high boots and a black and white spotted rain hat in shiny plastic. She hesitated for a moment. Too glamorous for the country. She had a pair of overshoes, a white poplin raincoat and a showerproof scarf for her head. But she looked at the grey sky and thought of Oliver. Why not look her best ? She reached for the new outfit and put it on, then struck a model's pose before the long mirror and laughed. Just the job. A patent leather handbag and a pair of leather gloves completed the picture.
Well pleased with her appearance and glad, now, that she had chose the more glamorous outfit, she ran lightly down the stairs feeling quite gay. Masculine voices came from the sitting-room, and she pushed open. the door.
Hello, Oliv— '
But it was not Oliver who rose from his chair. It was Jim Crombie, that invariable smile of amusement on his face with which he appeared to hide his dislike of her.
CHAPTER V
Well, well I ' he said, eyeing her up and down. Miss Glamour Queen, eh ? Going somewhere special ? '
She geared herself to do battle with him. You could say that,' she answered him coldly. ' On the other hand, you could say I'm going with someone special.'
Aid The handsome forester, no doubt.'
That's right. I take it you've no objections ?
She was surprised at the sarcasm in her own voice. She never used to be like this. She was getting to be as bad as he was, she told herself.
But he said blandly: Not in the least. I wish you joy —both of you.'
Sara went to the window, feeling rather like a little girl who has dressed too soon for the party. What an aggravating man Jim Crombie was. He was detestable I How could she ever have thought otherwise ? Uncle John seemed to think it was funny. He had been enjoying their repartee as usual, looking from one to the other with an amused smile. Sara looked out of the window, then glanced at her watch. Now Oliver was a few minutes late. If he didn't come soon, she would go upstairs and take this ridiculous outfit off again. She had been a fool to put it on in the first place.
She turned, as John Henderson said: Sit down, my boy, why don't you ? '
The younger man glanced at Sara. Obviously he was being polite, remaining standing because she was standing.
' Oh, don't mind me, Jim. I'll go and wait for Oliver upstairs.'
But as she spoke the doorbell rang again.
' Ah, here he is,' John said.
I'll go then. 'Bye, Uncle John
. Take care of yourself.'
Have a good time ! ' Jim Crombie called out after her.
Jessie was just emerging from the kitchen to answer the door.
It's all right, Jessie,' Sara told her. I'll go. It'll be Mr Clayton. I might possibly bring him back to supper. Will that be all right ? '
But of course, Doctor. It will be easy enough. to lay another place.'
Sara thanked her and opened the door. His comment on her appearance was instant.
I say, you do look smart. Just the job for a day like this.
Thank you. That's what I thought.'
She closed the door and they walked to his car, parked alongside Jim Crombie's. Oliver apologized for being a few minutes late.
I was just leaving the house when somebody called to see me. Hope I haven't kept you hanging about. I notice you were ready. I expected to have to wait for you in spite of being late.'
She smiled. You would have, but Jim Crombie rang the bell not very long ago, and thinking it was you, I went straight upstairs to put my things on. I never keep people waiting, if I can help it!
Then it's a shame I kept you waiting for me!
She told him it didn't matter in the least, but determined she would never make that mistake again, Not that she had minded waiting for Oliver in the least, but it had given Jim Crombie one more opportunity to be sarcastic. She asked Oliver where he lived.
' Between here and Ketford. At present I'm living with the head forester. He doesn't live in a forestry cottage. At least, not in one of the old ones, I mean. It's a modem house, very nice, but— '
But what ? ' she prompted, as he started the car and drove slowly out of the courtyard and on to the main road. Don't you like modern houses ? '
Not much. If I were married I think I'd like an old one. Generally speaking, they have more character.' But no sanitation.'
They can have.'
Yes, of course. I was only joking. And I agree with you, they do have more character. One of my patients— a Mrs Warby—showed me over her cottage the other evening, and it's really lovely. All the charm of the place has either been restored or retained, there's a bathroom, hot and cold water, wall lighting—everything.'
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