by Betty Neels
The doctor didn’t wait for his coffee after surgery. ‘You’ve got the phone number,’ he reminded her. ‘I’ll call in when I get back. You had better come back to my place for lunch.’
‘I’ve brought sandwiches, thank you.’ She spoke in a cool voice; if he wanted to be frosty she would be too. ‘There are a lot of patients for the evening clinic. If any more phone…?’
He took a quick look at the appointments book. ‘I’ll see two more—anyone else, unless it’s urgent, must come in the morning. That’s pretty full too—and young Beamish told me it was an easy job!’
He watched the colour creep into Leonora’s cheeks. Did she still love the man? Surely not… His frown was so ferocious that she looked at him in astonishment but he had gone before she could say anything.
She spent the next hour or so tidying the place—cleaning bowls and the simple instruments he had used, cleaning up the magazines and toys—and finally put on the kettle for a cup of coffee to go with her sandwiches. There had been several phone calls for appointments and she had got out the notes for the evening surgery.
She made the coffee and bit into the first of Nanny’s cheese sandwiches. The phone rang and she swallowed hastily and said, ‘Hello, Dr Galbraith’s surgery,’ in a rather thick voice.
It was a call from Willis Farm. ‘It’s the baby—’e don’t look well; the doctor must come ’fore ’e gets any worse.’
Leonora picked up the pen. ‘It’s Janice, isn’t it? Which baby is it? You had a boy and a girl, didn’t you?’
‘Never you mind; just send the doctor.’
‘He isn’t here, but I can get him for you, only I must know what to tell him. Now, which baby?’
‘The boy—we calls ’im Billy. Looks kind of poorly and keeps screaming.’
‘The little girl’s all right?’
‘Yes, far as I can see. Where is ’e, then?’
‘I can phone him at once. Isn’t your mother there?’
‘Ain’t no one ’ere. Ma’s gone ter Radstock Market and the men are down the ten-acre field.’
‘Go back to the babies, Janice,’ said Leonora. ‘I’m going to phone the doctor now; he’ll come just as soon as he can.’
She was putting the phone down when he walked in.
‘That was Janice,’ said Leonora. ‘She says one of the twins is ill and she’s alone—the men are at the other end of the farm, and her mother’s in Radstock.’
‘Did she tell you what was wrong?’
‘Only that Billy looked poorly and screamed a lot.’
He went to his locked cupboard in the surgery and selected the items he wanted, put them in his bag and said, ‘Right, then, we’d better go.’
We? She couldn’t help casting a look at the sandwiches, but since he didn’t respond she followed him out of the door, which he locked before opening the car door and urging her in.
He didn’t appear to be hurrying but he hadn’t wasted a moment. As they left the village street she asked, ‘Why must I come with you? I don’t know anything much about babies.’
He turned to look at her. ‘No, no—you are coming as my chaperon.’
‘Chap…’ For a moment she was speechless. ‘Whatever for?’
‘Have you seen Janice since she came back from London?’ he asked.
‘No. She was a quiet girl—not very friendly with anyone else here, quite pretty, though—she had nice mousy hair…’
She gave him an enquiring look which he ignored, and he didn’t speak again until he’d driven into the farmyard, got out, opened her door and fetched his bag from the back seat. A girl was standing at the open door watching them. If this was Janice, where was the mousy hair, the pretty face? This girl had shorn locks of a vibrant chestnut colour and so much make-up that it was hard to tell what she really looked like. She had a stud in one nostril, long, dangling earrings and the shortest skirt Leonora had ever seen.
‘Where’s this baby?’ asked the doctor in a voice nicely compounded of professional reserve and kindness. ‘Tell me exactly when he became ill. Is he feverish? Being sick?’
He went past her into the house, saying over his shoulder, ‘Leonora, come with me, please.’
Janice led the way upstairs to where the babies were lying in their cots. The baby girl was sleeping but Billy was roaring his head off, red in the face, waving minute fists in rage. The doctor picked him up.
‘He’s sopping wet,’ he observed mildly. ‘Get some dry clothes for him—he needs changing for a start.’
Janice went to a chest of drawers and started rummaging in it and he handed the baby to Leonora, who rightly deduced that she was meant to undress the infant. She laid him gently in his cot again and took off his old-fashioned gown and the wringing wet nappy and exposed a small sore bottom.
‘He needs a bath,’ she said, and added, ‘Sorry…’
‘You haven’t bathed the babies today,’ stated the doctor. ‘And when were they last changed? Billy isn’t ill; he’s wet and very sore. Get a bath ready for them; let’s get both of them washed and then I’ll examine them and make sure there is nothing wrong. When did the district nurse come?’
‘Yesterday. Don’t want ’er, old Nosy Parker; told ’er she didn’t need ter come any more.’
‘Your mother knows this?’
‘Ma don’t know nothing.’ She shrugged her shoulders and went out and presently came back with a small bath and then warm water.
The baby girl—Daisy—was awake now; Leonora, without being asked, stripped the cots while the babies were being bathed, made them up again with clean sheets and then sat down with a towel on her lap so that Billy could lie on it while his poor sore bottom was examined by the doctor.
Leonora held him gently, stroking the fair hair on his small head, telling him what a good boy he was, all the while aware of the doctor’s face within inches of her own as he bent down, and aware too of a peculiar feeling somewhere under her ribs which resolved itself into a flood of happiness. Not that she had the leisure to think about it. Billy was wriggling like a very small eel and crying again.
‘When did they have their last feed?’ asked the doctor.
‘Oh, I dunno—this morning. Ma went early; she fed ’em.’
‘Go and get their feed now. There is nothing wrong with either of your babies. They were hungry, dirty and wet. Tell me, would you like them to go to the children’s hospital for a few weeks while you decide what you intend to do?’
‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. What am I supposed to do with two kids anyway? Didn’t want ’em, did I?’
‘They could be adopted.’
‘That suits me fine.’ She flounced away to fetch the babies’ bottles and the doctor got out his phone while Leonora tucked Daisy in her cot once more. Billy began to bawl again, so she picked him up and cuddled him, listening vaguely to the doctor’s voice. He was on the phone for a long time.
She accepted a bottle from Janice and began to feed Billy; he gulped and choked in his haste and she wondered if he had been getting as much as he needed. The doctor must have had the same idea for he phoned again and then said, ‘The district nurse is coming this afternoon; she will make up the babies’ feeds for the rest of the day and make sure that they are all right. You will do exactly what she says, and as soon as it can be arranged Billy and Daisy will be taken to the hospital. I’ll come and see your parents this evening.’
He glanced at Leonora. ‘Ready to go? Nurse will be here within the next hour; she knows what to do.’
On the way back Leonora burst out, ‘How could she? Such little babies and no one to love them—and that’s all they want—food and warmth and love, isn’t it?’ She hadn’t meant to weep but two tears escaped and ran down her cheeks.
The doctor, looking straight ahead, none the less saw them. He dropped a large hand on her arm for a moment. ‘They will be adopted by people who will love them and care for them. I’ll have to speak to her parents, of course, but I suspect that once she is free of the tw
ins she will leave home again. In the meantime the district nurse will keep an eye on them and with luck we should get them transferred to hospital tomorrow or the next day.’
‘It must be so satisfying to get things done,’ said Leonora fiercely, ‘to know what to do and to be able to get on with it.’
His reassuring grunt was comforting.
He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s three o’clock; at least no one has called on the phone. We’ll get something to eat before we do anything else.’
‘My sandwiches…’ began Leonora.
‘They’ll be curling at the edges by now. Cricket will find us something.’
This was getting to be a habit, reflected Leonora—something which for some reason she found unsettling. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll go straight to the surgery, Doctor.’
‘I do mind—and call me James.’ He didn’t look at her but went on with casual friendliness, ‘We are colleagues, are we not?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ she said doubtfully. ‘You don’t mind?’
His mouth twitched. ‘Not at all. I should prefer it since we are to see a good deal of each other for the time being.’
Did that mean, she wondered worriedly, that he was already looking for another receptionist—a trained one who knew the difference between indigestion and a heart attack and who knew how to fend off those who came to the surgery apparently for the fun of it?
She said soberly, ‘Very well, James.’ After which it hardly seemed appropriate to mention the surgery again. Besides, she was hungry.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MRS CRISP came back in a day or two—and perhaps that was as well, thought Leonora. Working for the doctor in the surgery was one thing, but somehow lunching with him in his lovely house with Cricket beaming at her—and feeling so happy while she was there—was unsettling.
She was careful to work the hours he had suggested and made no effort to talk to him unless it was about a patient or phone call. He didn’t seem to mind, she reflected forlornly. True, he had stopped one morning to tell her that Billy and Daisy were in hospital and thriving and their mother had packed her bag and left home again.
‘How can you possibly leave two little babies?’ Leonora had wanted to know.
He had smiled thinly and shaken his head and gone away again to see to his patients.
She was handing over to Mrs Crisp on her first afternoon back when he came into the surgery, wished Mrs Crisp a good day and then said, ‘Leonora, my sister is coming down on Saturday for the weekend. I’d like you to come to tea.’
If they had been alone she would have made some excuse—not that she didn’t want to accept, but she had decided, hadn’t she, that she would take care not to get too friendly. She wasn’t very clear why this was necessary but that was beside the point. Mrs Crisp, standing there smiling and nodding, made it difficult to refuse. Besides, he didn’t give her a chance to do so.
‘Around three o’clock,’ he said easily. ‘We look forward to seeing you.’
When he’d gone Mrs Crisp observed chattily, ‘I wonder who else will be there?’
Leonora felt a pang of relief and then disappointment; there would be half the village there, no doubt. She reminded herself that that was exactly what she wanted.
Lady Crosby puckered her brows when Leonora told her that she would be going to Buntings for tea. ‘Strange that Dr Galbraith didn’t include your father and me. Will there be many there, I wonder?’
‘I’ve no idea. He mentioned his sister staying with him—she has three small children, Mrs Crisp tells me.’
‘In that case I would have refused. With children there can be no conversation. I dare say there will be another dinner party shortly. You haven’t met any of his friends?’
‘Mother, I’m at the surgery; even if he had friends staying they wouldn’t come there.’ Was now the time to mention the lunches she had had at Buntings? she wondered, and decided against saying anything. Her mother would jump to the conclusion that Dr Galbraith—she must remember to call him James—was interested in her. Which he wasn’t. Even when he had invited her to tea he had sounded exactly like the family doctor talking to a patient.
On Saturday, uncertain as to who might be there, she got into her jersey dress and a long cardigan, both in a pleasant shade of turquoise-blue and both in a style guaranteed to be wearable five years hence, arranged her hair in a chignon, made up nicely, thanking heaven that it was a dry, quite warm day so that she could wear light shoes. She had considered biking there but then she might arrive a bit tousled. She bade her parents goodbye, told Nanny she would be back around six o’clock, perhaps earlier, and walked to Buntings.
Walking up the drive to the house, she gave a small sigh of envy. It looked charming; the flowerbeds were full of spring flowers now, and the shrubbery was newly green. The door was open and as she reached it two small boys darted out.
They came to a halt by her and offered grubby hands. ‘You are Leonora,’ said the taller of the two. ‘I’m Paul; he’s George.’
Leonora shook hands. ‘Hello, Paul; hello, George. How did you know who I was?’
‘Uncle James told us. Come inside.’
The doctor came to meet them as they entered the hall. His greeting was casual and friendly. ‘The house is in an uproar; I hope you don’t mind. Come and meet Molly and my brother-in-law. There’s another child somewhere—my niece.’
They all went into the drawing room and she shook hands with Molly and Jeffrey and then stooped to take the little girl’s hand. ‘I’m two,’ she whispered, and buried her face in her mother’s skirt. Presently she peeped up at Leonora. ‘Uncle James and me share Tod.’
‘Now, that’s nice,’ said Leonora, bending down. ‘I’ve got a dog too. His name’s Wilkins.’
A small hand was slipped into hers. ‘I’ll show you Tod.’
They all went into the garden then, and the talk was easy and pleasant and made her feel perfectly at home. Tod was admired, stroked and offered a ball while they strolled around, the children darting to and fro, the grown-ups stopping to discuss some plant or other. Molly tucked an arm into Leonora’s, not asking questions, mentioning only casually Leonora’s work at the surgery, but telling her about the children and her life on the farm.
‘I don’t do any farm work—I wouldn’t know how to and Jeffrey has an agent—but it’s a nice old house and there’s heaps of room for the children. We ride too—do you?’
‘I used to.’ Something in Leonora’s voice caused Molly to start an animated conversation about her children. ‘They’re a handful even with Nanny’s help. Of course, they’re as good as gold when they come down here. They adore James; he makes a marvellous uncle and, heaven knows, he has enough practice—we have four sisters, did you know? Two of them are married with children. They live a good way away, though— Scotland and the depths of Cornwall. The other two are in Canada with our father and mother—twins, waiting to go to university; they’re the youngest.’
‘It must be lovely to have a brother and sisters…’
‘Oh, it is. We all like each other too. Here’s Cricket to tell us tea is ready.’
It was a hilarious meal, sitting round the dining-room table with the children, and Cricket had done them proud. Tiny sandwiches, a plate of bread and butter cut paper-thin, fairy cakes, gingerbread men and a magnificent chocolate cake.
There was even a high chair for the little girl and when Molly saw Leonora looking at it she said, ‘James keeps one here; there’s always a baby or a toddler; as fast as one is big enough to sit on a chair there’s another one ready for the high chair!’ She laughed. ‘Mother and Father say they lose count of their grandchildren.’
It wasn’t quite what Leonora had expected but she found herself wishing that she had a large family like the doctor’s; their warmth and pleasure in each other’s company was something she had never experienced and wasn’t likely to. She didn’t waste time repining, though. She ate a splendid tea, unaware of the doctor�
�s eyes upon her, wholly taken up with the small boys sitting on either side of her.
After tea they played hide-and-seek round the house. As she raced round the passages, up and down the staircase, in and out of the rooms, Leonora’s cheeks got flushed and her hair escaped in little curls; she was happy and a little excited, so that she looked prettier than ever.
Creeping up the back stairs, looking for a likely hiding place, she came face to face with the doctor.
They were at the end of a narrow passage leading to the back of the house, with doors on one side and a row of small windows overlooking the garden.
They stood looking at each other for a moment. ‘Enjoying yourself, Leonora?’ he asked, and smiled.
‘Oh, yes—yes, I am. I’d forgotten what fun it was. We must hide…’
‘We aren’t really built for it, are we?’ he observed. ‘Rather on the big side.’
‘Well, really!’ began Leonora, suddenly aware of her magnificent proportions compared with Molly, who was a slender size eight. Her childish pleasure was pricked like a balloon. ‘You’re very rude,’ she said tartly, and edged past him.
He put out a hand and stopped her very gently. ‘I’m so sorry; would it make things better if I told you that I like my women big?’
He bent and kissed her quickly. ‘Run along and hide. There’s a large cupboard at the end of this passage.’
She wanted to run out of his house, get away from him, but she couldn’t do that; she got into the cupboard and presently was discovered by a small boy shouting in triumph.
It was the children’s bedtime then. Leonora was embraced in turn, shook hands with Molly and Jeffrey, thanked the doctor in a chilly voice for a pleasant afternoon, took her cardigan from Cricket and went to the door.
She found the doctor beside her. ‘I’ll walk with you,’ he told her affably. ‘The house will be bedlam until the children are in bed.’