by Betty Neels
When they came into the room, he told her to go to her parents’ room with the note and then go down to the hall. ‘And bring a jacket.’
Her parents didn’t stir as she opened their door, put the note on a bedside table and crept out again, closing the door after her. The men were loading the stretcher into the ambulance as she reached the hall and as they shut its doors the doctor went to his car. ‘Jump in— I’ll close your front door.’
She got in and sat silently while he drove, keeping the ambulance in sight. It was beginning to get light now and she felt a strong urge to go to sleep but it was a comparatively short journey and she told herself that she wasn’t really tired.
‘Do you often do this—get up in the night?’
‘Quite frequently. I don’t need much sleep.’ He didn’t tell her that he had only been in bed for a couple of hours when she had phoned. ‘How will you manage at home?’
‘Oh, I’ll manage,’ she assured him. ‘We’ve got help from the village now I’m at the surgery, and there’s not much to do.’
Which, considering the size of her home and her mother’s helplessness, wasn’t true.
‘You’ll be able to manage the surgery as well as household chores? I dare say your mother will help out.’
Leonora’s reply to that sounded so doubtful that he didn’t say any more.
Trotting behind the trolley bearing Nanny to her ward, Leonora was wide awake again; the doctor was talking to a solemn-looking man in a long white coat and appeared to have forgotten her; it seemed best to keep close to Nanny.
Waiting by the bed, she saw him coming towards her, still with the same man and this time with a nurse, who told her to wait outside the ward. ‘There’s a rest room, dear. We’ll talk to you presently.’
It seemed a long time before James came looking for her.
‘Come and see Nanny and then we’ll go back,’ he told her briskly. ‘She’s in good hands and there is an excellent chance of her recovery. She won’t know you but don’t let that worry you. We’ll come and see her this evening.’
Nanny looked comfortable propped up on pillows, very small against them. She was dozing and although she didn’t respond to Leonora’s kiss it seemed as though she was better.
The doctor’s hand on her arm roused her to say goodbye to the nurse and go with him back to the car, and he popped her in, got in beside her and drove away.
‘I’ll take you home,’ he told her presently. ‘You can do your hair and so on and I’ll collect you in half an hour. You’ll breakfast with me and we’ll open the surgery at the usual time.’
‘Oh, but I can’t—I mean, there’s breakfast to get for Mother and Father.’
‘I dare say your mother will manage that for once,’ he observed. ‘You’ve a day’s work ahead of you, remember.’
‘So have you.’
‘Ah, but I have Cricket to cosset me. And he will enjoy cosseting you too.’
‘Yes, that would be nice, but…’
‘Dear girl, will you do as I say?’ He sounded so kind that she could have wept—just because she was tired and chilly and hungry.
She said, ‘Yes, James,’ in such a meek voice that he glanced at her in surprise.
At the house he went in with her, but there was no sound. He left her in the hall, reminding her that he would return in half an hour, and she went to her room, showered and dressed again, did her hair in its usual chignon and made up her tired face. There was just time to go to the kitchen, put the kettle on and lay a tray for early-morning tea. Wilkins, roused from sleep, went out into the garden, and she went upstairs to wake her parents.
There wasn’t time to do more than give a quick explanation.
‘I’ll be back at lunchtime,’ she told them. ‘Wilkins has been out and you’ll only have breakfast to get.’
Lady Crosby sat up in bed. ‘My dear child, I’ll do my best. You know I always do, however poorly I feel.’
‘I dare say I can boil an egg,’ said her father gruffly. ‘Pity about Nanny.’ He sipped his tea. ‘I’ll ring the hospital later. Is she very ill?’
‘Yes, Father. I must go; I’ll come home as soon as I can.’
She reached the door at the same time as the Rolls came to a silent halt before it. James got out and opened her door for her.
‘You look as fresh as a daisy,’ he observed. ‘Parents awake?’
‘Yes. Father said he’d phone the hospital later on.’
‘I shall be going to see her this evening. Want to come with me?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He watched her tell-tale thoughts racing across her face. ‘What time? I mean, I’ll have to get a meal.’
‘Put something in the oven. We shan’t be away long. We’ll go directly after surgery.’
Cricket had the door open as they reached it and she was marched straight into the dining room, her nose twitching at the delicious smells coming from the open kitchen door. She was sat down, given a cup of coffee and then, urged by her host, fell to on bacon, eggs, mushrooms and fried bread, and then, again gently persuaded by the doctor, toast and marmalade and more coffee.
She could have curled up in a chair and slept then but she was whisked out into the garden and walked briskly round while Tod circled about them. It was a cool, bright morning and by the time they had to leave for the surgery she was wide awake again. Cricket, handing her her jacket with a fatherly air, actually smiled widely.
‘That was the most delicious breakfast,’ she told him, and gave him a smile to melt his elderly heart.
She thanked James too with an even sweeter smile and he, a man who prided himself on his self-control, nodded casually, so that her heart, which had been thumping happily in his company, plunged into her shoes. But what do I expect? she thought, getting into the car once again.
CHAPTER NINE
THERE weren’t many patients at the surgery; by eleven o’clock the place was empty and Leonora put the kettle on and got out two mugs and the coffee. Dr Galbraith’s round was smaller than usual too—she had looked in the book to check that—so it was disappointing when he declined a drink and went away with a brisk, ‘I’ll see you at this evening’s surgery.’
After he had gone, she had her coffee, got the patients’ notes out ready for the evening, took a few phone calls and tidied the place, then sat down to wait for Mrs Crisp. She arrived punctually and Leonora explained hurriedly about Nanny.
‘The poor dear,’ said Mrs Crisp warmly. ‘But there, she’s not all that young, is she? And that great house to manage—just the two of you. I don’t know how you do it; let me know if I can be of any help, Miss Leonora.’
Leonora thanked her and made for the door, to be stopped by Mrs Crisp’s voice. ‘I almost forgot—you’ve not had time to see the local paper, of course. The doctor’s advertising for a receptionist—part-time, like you. I dare say you want to get back to your usual…’ She paused and added awkwardly, ‘What I mean is, I dare say Sir William isn’t too keen on your working here in the village. The doctor did tell me you were just helping out until he could get someone to suit him. He asked me if I’d like the job full-time but of course I haven’t the time for that, so he says, “Well, Mrs Crisp, you stay on part-time, and I’ll find someone as soon as possible.”’ She smiled. ‘He’s a real gentlemen, isn’t he?’
Leonora said brightly, ‘I hope he finds someone—we’re a bit out of the way, aren’t we?’ She smiled too. ‘I must go; I’ll be back on time.’
Perhaps it was a good thing she had no time to think once she got home. Her mother was in the kitchen, opening and shutting drawers and cupboards in an aimless way. ‘Darling, here you are. I can’t find anything, silly little me. Will you make a salad for lunch, and perhaps a cheese soufflé…?’
‘Has Father phoned the hospital?’ asked Leonora, dismissing the soufflé.’
‘He thought it would be better to wait for an hour or so, darling. By then Nanny may be feeling better.’
Leonora went back into the
hall and picked up the phone. Nanny was about the same, holding her own, she was told, and she could ring again that evening if she wished.
She went back to the kitchen. ‘Where’s Father, Mother?’ she asked, and began opening drawers and cupboards, assembling lunch.
‘In his study, dear. What shall we do about dinner this evening?’ Lady Crosby sat down. ‘Oh, dear, I am so upset…’
They had their lunch in the kitchen, which, Lady Crosby observed, took away every vestige of her appetite. ‘I think I’d better go and lie down for a while; I’ve got one of my headaches coming on.’
Sir William helped to clear the table and Leonora said, ‘I’m going to the hospital this evening with Dr Galbraith, Father. I’ll get everything ready for supper and I’m sure Mother could manage if I’m not back. We’re going directly after surgery.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll drive over in a day or so when Nanny feels more the thing!’ He added uneasily, ‘You’re sure you can manage? I’m afraid your mother isn’t up to doing much.’
‘It isn’t for long, Father, and I can manage.’ She hoped she could; if and when Nanny came home, she would have her hands full. Perhaps the district nurse would help out. Time to worry about that later. There certainly wasn’t time to worry now: beds to make, rooms to tidy, a tea-tray to set ready, a meal to prepare for the evening.
She arrived back at the surgery feeling tired and not looking her best.
The doctor, seeing this and saying nothing, wondered how best to help her; the wish to carry her off to Buntings and keep her there was hardly practical. Besides, he had had no indication that she would agree to that. It was a problem he had no time to solve at the moment.
Later, as he drove past her home, she cast a guilty look at the lighted windows. Her mother and father would be coping as best they could; she ought to be there looking after them.
James had seen her glance. ‘They’ll cope,’ he told her easily. ‘It will be only for a short time and both your mother and father are very fit for their age—and they are by no means old.’
‘Old?’ She sounded shocked. ‘Mother’s in her early fifties; she married very young.’
‘There you are, then.’ He began to talk about something else and when they reached the hospital took her straight to Nanny.
Nanny looked as though a puff of wind would blow her away, but at least she recognised them.
‘Such a botheration,’ she wheezed, ‘me feeling poorly; your ma will never manage.’ She peered up at Leonora’s face. ‘And you’ll be worked to death.’
‘No, no, Nanny, we’re managing beautifully. You aren’t to worry. It’s only for a little while anyhow. You’ll be back home in no time.’
The doctor, standing beside her, made no effort to contradict this statement. Presently he wandered away to speak to the house physician.
‘He’s a good man,’ said Nanny between coughs. ‘Tell your ma and pa not to come visiting me; there’s no need. Getting the best of treatment—such nice girls the nurses are; nothing’s too much trouble.’ She glanced at the flowers Leonora had brought with her. ‘They’ll look a treat on my locker. Now don’t you waste your time coming here, Miss Leonora; you’ve enough on your plate.’
‘If Dr Galbraith gives me a lift, it’s the easiest thing in the world,’ said Leonora. ‘Is there anything you want, Nanny—books or magazines?’
‘Bless you, no.’ Nanny stopped to cough; she was tired now and Leonora said quickly, ‘I’m going now, but I’ll be back. Take care!’
She bent to kiss her old friend and left the ward to stand about outside its doors wondering where the doctor had gone. He joined her presently.
‘I’ve had a talk with the man in charge of Nanny. She’s doing well, even after twelve hours. Not quite out of the woods yet… She was pleased to see you!’
Leonora nodded. ‘Yes, she was bothered about looking after Mother and Father.’ She added, ‘She looks very ill…’
‘She is ill but the tests which have been done are all satisfactory; give the antibiotics a chance and she’ll be as good as new.’
He spoke in a manner which she couldn’t help but believe; she went with him to the car feeling cheerful, ready to cope with the evening ahead.
At the house he got out of the car and helped her out, but when she asked him to go in with her he refused. ‘I’m dining out,’ he explained. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t worry about Nanny; she will be all right.’
She went indoors then, after thanking him politely for the lift and saying that she hoped he would have a pleasant evening—something which she hardly expected to have herself. And nor did she; there was too much to do.
Back from his dinner party later that evening, the doctor went in search of Cricket.
‘I need your help,’ he told him. ‘This is what I want you to do…’
So the following morning Cricket made his stately way to the Dowlings’ residence and remained closeted with Jenks, their butler, for some time.
‘Oh no account must Miss Crosby be told that these come from Dr Galbraith; tell Sir William that Mr Dowling sent them as a gift. They’re quite ready to be put into the oven…’
Jenks nodded a bald head. ‘I’ll see that’s done, but why the secrecy, or may I not ask?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say more, but shall we just say that there may be wedding bells in the offing? Strictly between us, of course. Nothing said, I fancy—the doctor isn’t a man to hurry and Miss Crosby needs a delicate hand. A charming young lady, I must add, but touchy about money matters; I gather there’s not much of it up at the house. Any whiff of charity and she would retreat.’
When Leonora got home at lunchtime she was met by her mother.
‘Darling, such luck—the Dowlings have sent over a brace of pheasants they can’t use. Ready to pop into the oven too. Isn’t that marvellous? Now you’ll have almost no cooking to do this evening.’
Leonora, who had been cudgelling her brains as to how to present sausages disguised as something else, was relieved at the news.
Evening surgery wasn’t busy, which was a good thing, for the doctor was called away as his last patient was preparing to leave—Mrs Squires, complaining of aches and pains, demanding a bottle of tonic. There was nothing like it, she assured the doctor. ‘And I dare say you may be a very clever man, but there’s a lot you could learn about tonics.’
He agreed placidly, wrote out a prescription and left her in Leonora’s hands, bidding them goodbye as he went.
A mean trick, thought Leonora, longing to get home to deal with the pheasants and delayed by Mrs Squires, eager for a nice long chat. By the time she did get home she was tired and cross; the pheasants still had to be dealt with…but first of all she phoned the hospital. Nanny was doing well, responding to the antibiotics, eating a little, sleeping well. She told her father and he agreed to drive over to the hospital on the following day.
‘In the afternoon, Father,’ urged Leonora. ‘If we go directly after lunch we can be back in time for surgery.’
At morning surgery the doctor told her that he had talked to the house physician at the hospital. ‘Nanny’s doing well; they’ll be sending her home in five or six days; can you manage?’
‘Oh, easily,’ said Leonora instantly, and added mendaciously, ‘I’ve help from the village, you know.’
‘Splendid. I shall be driving to the hospital this evening; do you want a lift?’
‘Father’s going this afternoon and I said I’d go with him. Thank you for the offer.’
Determined to preserve a cool front, she succeeded in sounding frosty instead.
Later, sitting in his study with Tod sprawled over his feet, James pushed aside the work he was doing and applied his powerful brain to the subject of Leonora’s sudden coolness. What had he done or not done? he wondered. Surely she hadn’t found out about the pheasants? If she had he was sure that she would have taxed him with that in no uncertain terms. She was avoiding him and although she w
as tired and worried her distance was caused by even more than that—something was making her unhappy.
Surely she wasn’t still in love with Beamish? With five sisters he was only too well aware of the vagaries to be encountered in the female. He wished very much to tell her of his love for her but if he spoke now he might ruin his chances…
As the days went by it was so obvious that Leonora was avoiding his company that he took care that they spent as little time together as possible. An outbreak of chickenpox kept him busy both in and out of the surgery, and though he drove her to see Nanny one evening he was careful to behave with detached friendliness. From Cricket he heard that the help from the village was quite inadequate, that Lady Crosby seemed unable to lift a finger round the house, that Sir William didn’t seem to notice any shortcomings as long as he had his meals, and that there were lights showing at the house long after sensible people were in bed.
Nanny was to be sent home in two days’ time; the pneumonia had been banished but she was still in need of rest, good food and attention. At the hospital Leonora greeted the news with a cheerful face, casting aside Nanny’s anxious worries as to how they were to manage; indeed, to hear her, one would have thought that she had boundless help! The doctor said nothing until they were in the car going home.
‘I will arrange for the nurse to come each day and get Nanny up and dressed, and again in the evening to settle her back in bed.’
‘There’s no need…’
He said levelly, ‘I must remind you that I am Nanny’s doctor, Leonora.’
‘Oh, well, yes. Thank you.’ She added in a stilted manner, ‘We do appreciate your care and kindness. How long will it take Nanny to get quite well?’
‘Ten days, two weeks. If she wishes to potter before then there is no reason why she shouldn’t, but it would be best if she takes things very easily for another week.’
‘I’ll make sure of that.’
‘I’ll fetch her home on Sunday morning; perhaps you will come with me?’
‘Yes, please.’ She thanked him again as he dropped her off at the house.