The Newcomer

by Hilda Pressley

  I—wondered if you'd take my calls for me tomorrow night. Oliver has theatre tickets, and '

  His face set, his eyes steely, Jim looked at her, then shifted his gaze to Oliver.

  Ile said, with a casualness which did not ring true in the least: Oh, certainly. Go ahead. I hope you enjoy yourselves.'

  Her thanks had to be directed at his back as h west out. Sara looked at Oliver and sighed.

  ' There are times when I don't know what to make of him.'

  Oliver's eyes were thoughtful. I think I know what's wrong with him.'

  ' You do ? Then I wish you'd tell me.'

  But Oliver shook his head. No, no, I'd better not. He's a friend of mine, and besides, I may be wrong.'

  Jessie came in with the sweet, and they continued their meal. ,Sara could not quite forget Jim and what Oliver had said. From time to time during the evening, she pondered over what made Jim so moody, but came to no conclusion, only posed herself one question after another. Did he resent her coming here ? Did he dislike her ? Would he rather have had another man as a colleague ? Obviously, from the way Jessie let him into the house without ceremony, and from the way he dropped in whenever he felt like it, he had been used to doing so. Perhaps he preferred another man on whom he could just drop in for a chat, a drink and a smoke. Nina couldn't be on duty all of the time. She was bound to go home some time. How friendly was he with Nina ? Was she more than just a receptionist to him ?

  Oliver's hand came on her shoulder as she fiddled with some of the things on the sideboard.

  A penny for them.'

  She gave a brief laugh. Oh, I suppose I was just wool-gathering.'

  Worrying about Jim ? '

  Well, a little, I suppose.'

  ' I wouldn't, if I were you. He's bound to come out with it some time. Given time, these things resolve themselves. You can't rush human nature any more than you can make a tree grow any faster than is natural to it.'

  Sara smiled. ' There speaks a "man of the forest". Oliver, I like you,' she said impulsively.

  His eyes widened. ' Wow ! You talk like that and I won't be answerable for the consequences.'

  She laughed, enjoying the mild flirtation. She did like Oliver. He was nice. She felt he bled her too, and it was all very pleasant.

  They spent the rest of the evening just relaxing and talking in the comfortable sitting-room. Oliver sprawled in Uncle John's favourite chair, his legs outstretched, sipping a drink Jessie had brought in and alternately nibbling at salted nuts and little cheese cocktail biscuits. Sara leaned back on the cushions of the old-fashioned, commodious settee, her legs curled under her.

  She gave a contented sigh. this is nice

  ' It sure is,' smiled Oliver.'

  You know, Oliver,' she said reflectively, I don't think I'd like to live alone. In fact, I'm sure I wouldn't. I've missed Uncle John—and it's lovely having you here. I don't know how Jim stands it.'

  He laughed. So we're back to Jim again ?

  Sorry. He does tend to intrude, doesn't he ? I suppose Uncle John was just as much alone before I came.

  People get used to being alone, you know. They often have to. And it's probably preferable to living with the wrong person.'

  I'm not sure. Isn't anyone "the wrong person" until: you get to know them ? '

  Maybe. But you are an idealist, aren't you ? The notion that everybody can learn to live together if they try.' I'm sure they can,' she asserted.

  My dear, the thing is : A person has to have a nice nature to want to try, and so many people just don't want to. They either can't be bothered, or they take it for granted that it's the other person who's at fault. And if there's only one making efforts, it can be very hard on them. And why should life be made any more difficult than it is ? As I've said before, I'm no hermit, but if I couldn't find somebody I could get along with fairly easily, I'd rather live alone. Marriage, of course, is a different thing. Anyone would be a fool to marry for any reason other than love.'

  Now who's being an idealist ? ' she teased.

  There's nothing terribly idealistic about that,' he denied. It's what I call realistic. You surely don't fall in love with somebody you don't like, in the fast place. And being in love, a man and woman have at least some basis to work on. In any case, once they're married, it's easier to make an effort at understanding than not to make it, if it's only for one's own. sake.'

  You certainly have got both feet on the ground.' · He nodded. ' That's where they ought to be, don't you think ? Let the eyes travel upward to the tops of the trees and to the sky, but keep both feet planted firmly in the green earth.'

  A very sound philosophy, Oliver. The trouble is, so many people forget to look up to the tree-tops and the sky. The problems of married people are very real and they get a lot of publicity because they affect the children. But widows and widowers, bachelors and spinsters —they have their problems, too. Living alone can make a person become self-absorbed so that their eyes are never raised above their own concerns. Their standards of personal hygiene and home cleanliness often goes down and down. And spinsters and bachelors living

  together often become very possessive. I don't think man was ever meant to live alone or in pairs except as man and wife.'

  What does the unmarried man or woman do, then ? enquired Oliver.

  Ideally, they should be living with a family. Someone else's family, if they haven't one of their own.'

  Obviously, you've shinned up the tree to get a better view,' laughed Oliver. you don't fall. But if you don't think people should live alone, why were you Clinking you might rent that dear little cottage I showed you on Sunday afternoon ? '

  She smiled. I don't know. I suppose there are them when one wants to be alone. But not all the time . It isn't good.'

  I suppose a lot depends on. the individual, their strength of character and so on.'

  In general,' agreed Sara. 'Though even a person of character might sometimes need help to climb out of— shall we say—the Slough of Despond ? ' she said, thinking of Mrs Warby.

  I guess so.' There was a short silence, then Oliver looked across at Sara. thoughtfully. What do you think about marriage, Sara ? I mean—what kind of man. do you see yourself married to ? Another doctor ? '

  immediately She looked at him startled, Jim Crombie coming

  into her mind, naturally enough.

  Heavens, Oliver,' she said, laughing a little, ' I don't Imam I've never even thought about it '

  never? ' he queried.

  We—ell—you know. One doesn't really choose, does one ? They say love strikes in the most un usual places, sometimes. It Would depend whom I fell in love with, wouldn't it ?.' She laughed briefly. Judging by the way Sim and I feel about each other, I mean, from the way we're always fighting and arguing, I'd say a doctor would be the last person. I'd fall in love with.'

  But if you didn't marry a doctor, might you not have to give up your profession ? How would you feel about that ? '

  The question left her feeling as though all the breath had been knocked out of her.

  ' Good heavens, you do pose some questions, I must say At the present moment I can't think of anything snore unthinkable than giving up being a doctor. Do I have to choose—I mean is there no alternative for me between either marrying a doctor or giving up practising ? What a prospect '

  You might have to choose one day. I dare say if you married a solicitor or a schoolteacher or some profession lie that you'd be able to carry on. But suppose—just suppose you married someone like me. I mean—a man who moved around the country, never more than a few years in one place. Wouldn't that pose some problems ? '

  For a moment Sara did not answer. She looked at Oliver and asked herself—would she give up her job to marry him ?

  Well ? ' he prompted, almost as if he were reading her thoughts.

  It—would be difficult,' she answered. Then she gave a sudden smile, But I dare say it would be overcome. Love would find a way, as the saying goes.'

/>   Oliver's smile became tender as he looked across at her. I'm glad you're an idealist, Sara. I would have been disappointed in you if you hadn't been.' He rose from his chair and crossed to the settee. For a minute, he stood looking down at her. You know, you look the perfect picture of a beautiful wife, sitting there.'

  Do I ? Come and sit down beside me.'

  Without moving her legs, she made a space for him to sit beside her. He did so, and put his arm across her shoulders. She leaned against him and closed her eyes. She needed a man. She had not realized it until lately. She felt Oliver's lips on her temple and brought up her

  hand to his shoulder. Then his lips were on hers and she welcomed their touch, the feel of them. A contentment settled on her and she relaxed, returning his kiss warmly.

  After a minute or two he looked into her eyes. Is it love; Sara ? ' he asked softly.

  I—don't know— '

  He smiled softly. All right, let's just leave it, shall we ? '

  He kissed her again, and now she felt herself stirred. Oliver's arms tightened about her, and she gripped his shoulder.

  Then suddenly the telephone began to ring. Oliver relaxed his hold.

  A call for you ? '

  She disengaged herself. ' Possibly-though it might just be someone enquiring about Uncle John.'

  I hope so.'

  Oliver was sitting in his chair again when Jessie tapped on the door and entered.

  She looked startled. It's Mrs Miller, Doctor. Something terrible's happened. Her baby isn't due for another month, but the midwife says will you go at once ? '

  Before Jessie had finished 'speaking, Sara was on her feet. The address, Jessie. Do you know it ? '

  Swan Lane, next door to the butcher, on the right. I'll get your maternity bag.'

  She hurried into the surgery while Sara flung on her coat.

  Is there anything I can do ? ' asked Oliver. I've got my car outside.'

  It's all right, Oliver, thanks all the same. Sorry about this—but you know how it is.' She gave an amused smile. Now you know what it would be like married to a doctor. And this could well have happened in the middle of the night. In fact, it's a wonder it didn't.' At the front door she turned. ' Will you stay until I get back? I don't know how long I'll be, of course.'

  But she caught a disapproving glance from Jessie, and was glad when he said he'd better not. Obviously, he had seen Jessie's look, too. She said goodnight quickly, and went out to her car.

  The Millers' house was easy to find. The district midwife's little car was standing outside. Sara knocked on the front door and went in. She was met in the hall by a man in his thirties, looking scared and anxious.

  ' It's my wife, Doctor. Upstairs, first on the left. Shall I '

  'No, thanks, I'll find it.'

  She ran upstairs quickly and into the bedroom the husband had indicated. The patient was lying on the bed partly covered by a blanket, Nurse Draper giving her a whiff of anaesthetic.

  What's the trouble ? ' asked Sara.

  Prolapse of cord, Doctor. She's lost quite a bit.'

  How many children has she had ? '

  ' This is her fourth. She hasn't been attending clinic as she should have been. Thought she knew all the answers,' said Nurse Draper, not unkindly.

  Sara had taken off her coat as she had been speaking. Now she washed her hands in a bowl placed on a chair. At the sight of the cord lying on the mother's thigh, neither the child nor placenta yet born, Sara tried to hide her fears for the mother. She spoke as reassuringly as she could and wrapped the cord carefully in a sterile towel. Then she palpated the patient's abdomen and found that the baby had turned and was lying in a transverse position. Sara thought hard. But before she could decide what was best to be done, there came a contraction and with it more cord.

  ' Will it be all right, Doctor ? Oh, will it be all right ? ' gasped the mother.

  Life pulsated in the cord and Sara prayed that everything would turn out all right. She palpated once more, and this time tried to turn the baby round to vertex presentation so that the head could be born first in the usual way. But she met with no success. Then she tried the other way round. Still no success. She uttered a silent prayer, then another contraction occurred, bringing down still more of the cord. Sara eyed it with growing misgivings. It seemed to have gone thinner and had lost its tension. She felt it and found it was no longer pulsating.

  Sara caught the startled eyes of the midwife above her mask. There, was only one thing to do now if the baby's life was to be saved.

  She followed the cord upwards with her hand, then, to her unspoken joy, felt the tiny foot of the baby. Her last palpation, plus the contraction of the mother, must have—miraculously, almost—turned the baby round from its dangerous, transverse lie. Now the other foot. Then another contraction and half the baby was born, little blue, but—the trunk and arms followed. Now Sara checked the rush, and with an upward swing of the baby's legs, the child—a girl—was born. All three women—nurse, doctor and mother— gave an audible gasp of relief.

  Quickly, Nurse Draper produced suction apparatus, and a few minutes later the baby gave a lusty cry. It's a girl, Mrs Miller,' Sara told her. And isn't

  that the sweetest sound you ever heard ? '

  Mrs Miller nodded and gave a faint smile. She's— all right, then, Doctor ? '

  Sara assured her of it, and wrapped the new child in a warm blanket while Nurse Draper gave the ergometrine. The rest of the cord and the placenta came easily, and Sara went downstairs to tell the father the good news.

  ' A cup of tea all round, Mr Miller, would be more than welcome,' she told him.

  About twenty minutes later, she went out into the cold, starry night, with a feeling of 'mission accomplished'. She sat at the wheel of her car for a moment looking upwards, and gave a contented sigh. How could she ever, possibly, give up her work as a doctor ? If she had to make the choice between marriage and carrying on, then she would be compelled to carry on. She knew it. No matter how painful the decision. She tried to think under what circumstances she would be called upon to make a choice. There was always a need for a doctor, no matter to what part of the country one went to live. But she was tired now, and driving home needed all her concentration. Jessie had a hot drink ready for her almost as soon as she had taken off her coat, and when she had drunk it, she went straight to bed.

  As soon as surgery was finished the following evening, Sara rang Jim to tell him she was going out. She prepared herself for his usual stringency, but it was his housekeeper who answered.

  ' Very well, Doctor, I'll give Dr Crombie your message,' she said primly.

  Oliver was waiting for her in the sitting-room. Sara slipped off the white coat she always wore in surgery, and put on her outdoor coat.

  ' Ready, Oliver.'

  She stood in the doorway of the sitting-room, and he came up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. You look great,' he said, kissing her.

  She looked at him with some amusement. ' That's getting to be quite a habit.'

  What ? Kissing you ? Do you mind ? '

  No—o. ' She smiled at him. Of course I don't. Have you had something to eat, by the way ? '

  He nodded. And you ? '

  ' A sort of high tea at five-thirty. I haven't been to see Uncle John today, but I rang and they said he was doing nicely.'

  He kept his arm about her shoulders as they walked to the front door, and Sara wondered if Jessie was looking. She turned, but there was no one in the hall.

  I'm going now, Jessie ! ' she called out.

  Jessie emerged from the kitchen immediately. ' Will you be late home, Doctor ? '

  About eleven, possibly. Don't wait up. I have my key.'

  As they drove to Norwich, Oliver asked her about the patient she had been called out to the previous evening.

  ' Was it serious ? '

  It was, rather.' She told him about it. It's not unknown, of course, for a baby to be strangled by the cord. But such cases ar
e rare these days. So was last night's. Unfortunately, these are the ones which get all the publicity, if one isn't careful. And hearing about them can scare a young mother-to-be having her first almost out of her wits.'

  In any case, the fact that you were able to deal with it and save the lives of both mother and baby should be enough to give any mother-to-be confidence. '

  I think Providence had something to do with it, too.'

  He gave her a smiling glance. ' Don't be so modest. You're a good doctor. I've heard more than one person say so already.' They were silent for a minute, then Oliver said: ' I've been thinking about what we discussed last night. You know, you couldn't possibly give up being a doctor, and no man in his right mind would expect you to. You could set up a practice just anywhere you wanted, I imagine.'

  Providing there were enough patients, and most doctors seem overworked these days.'

  ' That's all right, then.'

  Sara did not ask him what he meant. She thought it best not to. She did not even want to delve too deeply in her own mind about what he might have meant. Perhaps he had it in mind to ask her to marry him, but she had no wish to dwell on the matter for the moment, either .to ask herself whether she wanted to marry him or to ponder on her feelings for him. She liked him very much indeed, but she didn't think she was iu love with him—yet.

  But by the end of the evening she was beginning to think she might be. She had never met a man in whose company she had felt so relaxed. They both enjoyed. the play, and were able to discuss it together afterwards over supper. Oliver, she found, to her delight, was quite knowledgeable about the theatre, and keen on the stage play as a means of reaching out to people.

  ' Not just as a means of entertainment, then ? ' she asked.

  'As both. Any writer worth his salt has ideas about life as well as having a story to tell.'

  Don't you think it depends on the ideas, though . ? Propaganda can be dangerous.'

  What I meant, of course, was a positive contribution. to life. In other words, ideals rather than ideas. Ideals of justice, truth, love and so on. But a play just for the sake of " putting things across ", wouldn't be any more successful, in my opinion t han a play all plot and no theme. It wouldn't be either a work of art nor terribly good entertainment. The majority of people, I'm sure, prefer a play that says something as well as entertains, whether it's in the form of drama, comedy or farce.'