Dr Finlay's Casebook (8 page)

Janet, shocked out of her wits, uttered a mild shriek. ‘Oh God! The duchess is kissing our Finlay! Kissing and kissing him.’ And with a final strangled cry she ran like mad into her
kitchen.

Meanwhile the lovers continued to cling to each other in a close embrace.

‘Oh, Grace, my darling. I felt this would never come true. For years I have wept for you, longed for you . . .’

‘And now I am yours, my dearest, most faithful love. Our son has told me how you wept for me.’

‘Ever since our first tender kisses, I have loved, loved only you, and no other woman.’

‘Well, now, my darling Finlay, your fidelity will be rewarded. Come and look through the lovely home I have bought for us.’

Encircling his waist with her arm she led him to the house, took the key from her pocket and snapped open the door. Then, still leading her beloved, she took him round the house and showed him
all its treasures.

‘Is this all yours, my angel?’ he faltered.

‘Ours, dearest one.’

‘But the cost, beloved! How on earth could you?’

‘Finlay!’ She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘The place has been mouldering away for years. You’d be surprised how eager the Town Council were to find someone who would
do it all over, from top to bottom. And do you know what the clincher was, lad?’ She paused. ‘The fact that you would be the owner! I got it practically for the price of the
renovation!’

‘But Grace, dear, I am not the owner and never will be the possessor of this lovely house. In effect you lied to the Town Council.’

This demanded another long embrace. But Finlay ventured a sly remark, ‘How did ye ken, for sure, that I would have ye, lass?’

‘Because I know you, dear love. Even without Bob’s letters I knew that you were true to me. And before the God o’ Heaven, so also was I to you. That good wee lawyer that fought
and won my case . . . he was dying to have me. Not a chance! I was yours and here I am with a lovely home, ready to wed you.’

‘You’ve been mine, my sweet, ever since we kissed after the Reunion Dance. But tell me, how in all the world do you still expect me to carry on my medical practice?’

‘Darling, your days as an ordinary country GP are over. You are far, far too good for that. You may tell Doctor Cameron that you wish to continue the private practice, here in the special
apartments, with a side entrance which I have already shown you. And I assure you that
more
private patients will come to you here. And I am convinced that you will soon have an appointment,
with your own wards, at the new Tannochbrae Hospital. Now isn’t that better than having Janet waken you at two in the morning with “There’s a call from the Anderston
Buildings”, with your beloved Cameron too lazy to get up? Your talents and your fine personality deserve much, much better. We’ll go over together to Cameron and make an amicable
arrangement. Then, my love, we’ll have a quiet wedding at the altar of St Thomas’s, with all of Tannochbrae present, open carriages to bring us home and a champagne party that will go
on forever and ever.’

During this recital and the remarks that preceded it Finlay’s expression had gradually changed and he said firmly: ‘Grace dear, I’m sorry to put an end to your rosy dream but
there are several points I wish to take up with you.’ Finlay took a long breath. ‘First, it was downright dishonest to say I would be the owner of the house, and it could get us both in
jail. Second, how the devil do you expect me to practise medicine in that wee bit of a cupboard you call my consulting room, where there’s barely enough space for a couch to lie
on?’

‘Not all your patients need to lie down,’ Grace said pertly.

‘So that’s it! A young woman comes in and she’s hardly past the door before I say, “Do you want it standing up or lying down?” ’

‘How vulgar you can be, Finlay. You’ve changed frightfully.’

‘It’s no’ me that’s changed. It’s you wi’ your face a’ powdered and your lips made up, and you stinking with perfume. Now I see ye in a good light the
first thing I’d want tae do is wash your pretty wee face. When you was takin’ the waters why didna ye plunge your heid in?’

‘How dare you, Finlay!’

‘You don’t even kiss the way you used to. Instead o’ a good face to face cuddle ye put your jaw to my lips.’

‘Since you do not relish my kisses, I shall in future refrain from embracing you.’

‘And the worst thing of a’ – never mind your faked up kisses and the smell o’ perfume that would make all the cats in the town follow ye in a line – the worst thing
of a’ is this. Ye expect me to ditch my dear auld Cameron, who has worked side by side wi’ me summer and winter for many and many a year. Now, especially when he’s bye his best
and needs me mair, I’m to stroll over and say casual like, “By the by, auld fellow, I’m leavin’ you! A young wumman has bocht me a cupboard in her big new house where
I’m to work up a high-class practice, nae trash, just high-class gentry that can be gi’en a private prescription without even takin’ their shirts off.” As for auld Janet,
how in the world will she ever get up in time to gie the boss his breakfast, if I’m no’ there to pull the quilt off her bed at 7 a.m.? Aye, and gie her a clout on the backside if
she’ll no’ move quick enough?

‘It’s true enough that I loved a Gracie years ago and the memory o’ her has lingered. But you’re a different woman now, hard as nails, and your heid swollen wi’ the
fortune you got when your old man jumped off the girder to his death. The young jerk o’ a lawyer who got you the cash can come up to you here in your house. Since you’ve missed out on
me, take
him
to your bosom. But you can let me tell you this. If he says one word to me that’s in any way objectionable I’ll smash his face with a single punch.’

With that final word Finlay turned and walked out of the house, almost colliding with Dr Cameron, who in a thick overcoat and muffled to the eyes was starting out on the morning round.

‘Sir! Where are ye bound for? What’s that paper in your hand?’

‘Dear Finlay, it’s my calls in the Anderston Buildings.’

‘Hand it to me, sir! Don’t you know I always do the Anderston district?’

‘But, dear Finlay. I, we, all of us thought you were detained by the lady next door.’

‘Not on your life sir. Not now, not ever. In fact
never
.’ He snatched the paper from Cameron’s gloved hand.

This was too much for the old doctor. He put an arm round Finlay’s shoulders and drew him close.

‘Dear lad, when I thought I had lost you, my heart was like to break. But now it’s alive again and overflowing with joy. God bless you, lad. I look upon you as my own dear
son.’

He stood watching Finlay step briskly along to the lower road, then he turned back into the house, where Janet at the window had seen all.

‘Janet,’ he said, ‘rejoice with me. Finlay is back to us. And see ye keep the porridge hot on the stove.’

‘I’ve kept it on, sir. I felt sure our Finlay wouldna have lipped my breakfast. That woman we a’ thocht was the duchess wad never have thocht o’ such a thing, for
she’s nae mair nor poor Will MacFarlane’s widow who they say treated puir Will sae bad, he jumped off that building wi’ a broken heart.’

‘Oh, come now, Janet. It wasna like that!’

‘Weel, whether or no, sir, she’ll never get a civil word out o’ me. The very idea that she wad have the impudence to try and take our Finlay awa’ frae us is enough to
finish her, even without the stink o’ that fancy scent o’ hers. Mark ma words, sir, she’ll no be long our neebour, ye may trust me to see to that, if it’s the last thing I
was to dae for ye.’

Finlay was late in coming back for his long-delayed breakfast but he seemed well satisfied with his morning’s work.

‘What kept you, Finlay?’ Dr Cameron inquired.

‘As I had some time to spare, chief, I took a walk up to the Town Clerk’s office. You see, I wanted to correct the impression that I had any interest at all in the house next door.
Somehow they were misled into believing that I would be the responsible proprietor of the restored mansion. It was because of this assumption, entirely false, that the house had been so perfectly
restored and furnished at an exceptionally reasonable price.’

‘So you withdrew yourself completely from the transaction?’ said Dr Cameron.

‘No sir, not completely. I reserved the right to purchase the house within a period of three years, in the meantime allowing public admission for a restricted period twice a
month.’

Dr Cameron thought for a moment, digesting this information, then he gave out a cry that held both triumph and exultation.

‘She named ye the owner of the house to get better terms for herself, and now, having paid for it in your name, she has publicly deeded it to you . . . at least she has given ye the whip
hand in any transactions she may wish to make.’

At this point Janet brought a steaming bowl of porridge and another of fresh sweet milk. Poising himself with an outsize spoon Finlay delivered the final dictum.

‘She named me the proprietor because she was so sure she had me completely under her thumb. Weel, now that I’m free of her, we’ll just sit back quietly and wait and see what
she’ll be up to next.’

Suffer the Little Children

Now that Finlay was definitely back in harness all went smoothly and easily in the practice. The onset of good weather lightened the burden of the Anderston Buildings, where
the blessing of warm sunshine cleared up a variety of coughs and colds that had kept Finlay busy during the winter months. Now he was able to cast an eye on the uplands where the sodden moors were
losing their sheen of mist and gradually drying out under the persistent sun.

The neighbouring house was silent in all its beauty, its only habitant the housekeeper who could occasionally be seen by Janet as a shadow moving silently behind the curtained windows. The smart
black car was not on view, from which Janet deduced that its owner had departed for some destination, as yet unrevealed. Grace was not mentioned in conversation between Dr Finlay and Dr Cameron,
the subject was apparently dropped. And while Finlay kept an alert eye out for Bob on the Gielston Road, the boy had long since disappeared, probably to sit his first examination for Glasgow
University.

Following his interview with the Town Clerk, Finlay had made an appearance before the entire council and had honestly and frankly defined his position, from the very first meeting with Grace at
the Reunion Dance. He stated, under oath, that he had not had the slightest pre-knowledge of the lawyer’s desire to put the purchase of the house in his name. His quiet manner and the
unquestionable veracity of his answers to all the searching questions put by the committee were so convincing that its decision was emphatic and unanimous. After consultation with the committee,
the Town Clerk addressed Finlay in these words:

‘Dr Finlay, I am empowered to advise you that the decision of the Committee is immediate, emphatic and unanimous. They have no doubt whatsoever that the house was deeded to you without
your knowledge or consent. Although such deeding was solely intended as a legal device to trick the council into selling the house at a figure commensurate with the esteem in which all members of
the committee – and indeed everyone in Tannochbrae – hold you, it is nevertheless valid and binding. You have not only the opportunity to buy the house for your own occupation at a
favourable figure, but also – note this – the positive legal right to deter any other person from so purchasing the property.’

Finlay’s face was such a study of astounded innocence that the members of the council rewarded him with a sustained round of applause. As the meeting finally broke up, the Town Clerk put
his arm round Finlay’s shoulders and drew him into a little side room.

‘My dear Finlay, you are so universally beloved in our community that I would wish you to know that all of us are delighted that this positively criminal use of your name without your
knowledge or consent should not only rebound against the perpetrators, but result legally and positively, in your favour. The historic house adjacent to where you reside at present may be purchased
by you complete with all repairs, alterations and improvements for a sum which takes into account the sympathy extended to you by the Town Council for the manner in which you have been abused. This
privilege will be extended to you for a period of three years, and the price at which you may purchase the entirely renovated house is that price fixed for the old, unrenovated property.’

Before Finlay could speak or recover from the shock of this magnificent, unexpected and unsolicited gift, the Secretary continued, concluding, ‘The committee make this gesture with all
their good will and gratitude for the splendid service you have rendered to the community from your earliest days as a qualified medical practitioner.’ Then in a quiet voice, intimate and
friendly, ‘Come away down to my office lad, and we’ll celebrate your good future wi’ a wee dram o’ Glenloch.’

Naturally, Finlay was delighted with his acquisition and often, when unobserved, would slip down quietly to enter the house and examine all the fine furnishings which also had
so unexpectedly become his own. And slowly the question formed in his mind: what should he do with this treasure? If only he were married, his dilemma would be solved. And what a marvelous and
appropriate gift for the woman he loved. Alas, there was no such woman. Unkind fate had so arranged his life that he seemed fated to be, and to remain, a bachelor.

What then must he do with his house? The good Dr Cameron, somewhat slighted by the preferential treatment shown to his assistant, did not fail to drop a little acidity into the situation.

‘And when will ye be moving into your grand new house, Finlay?’ or, ‘Don’t ye think ye should advertise in the local
Tribune
: “Gentleman, handsome and
distinguished, with large furnished house, desires wife. Apply with photograph and testimonials”.’ While Finlay took this in good part it crystallised his purpose to stop treating his
house as a beautiful toy, but instead to put it to good and useful purpose. He sat down and wrote a long letter to his friend, the matron of a children’s hospital, explaining his purpose and
asking her to call and see him – and his house.