New Doctor at Northmoor (12 page)

Gwenny woke up sobbing, sure that that was all he regarded her as: his mystery disease, and not as a
_;
woman at all. Sister was by her bed and she was saying to someone that the R.M.O. must be fetched, but the dis-
_;
embodied voice said from a long distance that he had, gone off duty and had been seen to drive out of the Residents
’
Car Park an hour ago.

Sir Giles was still on hospital premises, however, and he came at the double and looked severely at Gwenny.

‘
What
’
s all this, then? Been upsetting yourself again? It
’
s my belief that this is nothing more or less than simple hysteria.
’

Sister was shocked and said so. In her prim way she had many stand-up battles with Sir Giles, and rumour had it that under his lofty manner he privately enjoyed, doing battle with her.

Gwenny decided they weren
’
t going to do battle over her bed.
‘
I want
Dr.
Bayfield,
’
she heard herself say.
‘
He says I
’
ve got a special disease. He wouldn
’
t like the suggestion of hysteria to be put around.
’

She was shocked at herself for saying that, but it appeared to amuse Sir Giles very much.
‘
H
’
m, so under hat meek exterior, poor Kinglake
’
s brat has a bit of
s
pirit! No wonder my nephew
...’
and
he murmured s
omething under his brea
th which made a fleeting smile c
ome to Sister
’
s lips.

Cosgrove was fetched to sit by Gwenny and watch her, md honorary and ward sister went out, talking, it seemed
to
Gwenny, about the advisability of telephoning around
t
o try to find Mark Bayfield.

A little later on, Sister came back and gave her an
i
njection, which put her to sleep, and when she awoke t was dark, and Mark Bayfield was standing by her bed.

There was a curious intimacy about her room, with inly the light from the passage outside, filtering through he frosted glass in her door. She savoured being alone
w
ith him, until she realized that they weren
’
t alone and hat Cosgrove was busy at the table in the far comer.
M
ark Bayfield murmured,
‘
What seems to be the
t
rouble
?’

Gwenny was very cross about that approach.
‘
That
’
s low my father speaks to bothersome patients who he mows haven
’
t got much the matter with them,
’
she protested.

‘
Well, let
’
s put it this way—what made them fetch
ne
back from Bittleby?
’

‘
Did they? I
’
m sorry
about that. Sir Giles Faraday c
ame to see me and said it was nothing but hysteria.
A
nyway, I didn
’
t ask to see you. I just had a nightmare
a
nd called out.
’

‘
Did you tell Sir Giles that?
’

‘
No, he didn
’
t ask me. Nor he didn
’
t give me the
ch
ance to say. He
’
s quite
horrid! He just talks all the t
ime and looks at the poor patient as if it was something
n
asty that the cat had brought in
!’

He made a sound like smothered laughter.
‘
Not to
worry. He talks to all his patients like that, even the rich old ladies. Most honoraries do, you know.
’

‘
Will you, when you
’
re an honorary?
’
she asked him.

He seemed to take his time over considering that, but at last, he said,
‘
I expect so
,’
just as if she were a child. She joined ranks with her family in hating him.

And yet she had to admit that he gave her a lot of attention. She knew that it was his shadowy figure standing by her bedside often when she came up from the dark depths, her head swimming, wondering where she was and how long she had been under
.
His figure was like no one else
’
s; it was tall and powerfully built, and there was a special something about the set of his shoulders that she recognized, silhouetted against the light from the corridor, and she recognized the shape of his head, too.

‘
She heard some nurses gossiping about the amount of attention he gave his mystery patient, only that day. Mystery patient, mystery illness, it was all one to Gwenny; they were referring to her, and she didn
’
t like it and didn
’
t understand it.

She didn
’
t know their voices. They were doing some job or other in the room next to hers. When she had been in the hospital longer she learned to recognize the sounds of each job and to know that those bumps, squeaks and sloppings of water meant that a bed was being disinfected and prepared for a new patient. At the time all she was concerned with was what they were saying. A disconcerting conversation that settled in her head and she stored against him for future reference.

‘
Is our new little patient all that important, do you suppose?
’
one asked. She had a lightweight voice and a clipped way of enunciating. The other had a sleepy voice, deeper, and said,

‘
I don
’
t know, but I
’
d like to. Can
’
t tell, as we don
’
t know him well enough, if he goes mad over every new patient like this.
’

‘
He couldn
’
t, could he? Or do you mean in the singles?
’

Gwenny
’
s room was a single, and she already knew that it was by way of being special, but she hadn
’
t found the reason.

‘
No.
Foster says he
’
s got a special interest in her.
’
The sleepy voice finished in a chuckle full of meaning.

‘
What, one of the Bayfield family getting interested in a little patient, a G.P.
’
s daughter at that? Don
’
t be daft!
’

‘
Well, you must admit he haunts that room.
’

‘
I heard that it
’
s because there
’
s been trouble with her family. Rumour has it that he
’
s upset every one of them
‘

Someone interrupted them at that, and Gwenny was very sorry. She would have liked to hear the opinion of the other girl on that remark.

She put it to her mother, the next time she came. She knew her mother was coming up. She saw her mother by training her field-glasses on the main gate. She saw her mother looking annoyed when she had to wait for an ambulance going through, and then she saw her mother
’
s brilliant smile flash out, and looked around to see who it was her mother was apparently so pleased to see. It turned out to be Priscilla, smartly going out in mufti. Mother and daughter stopped for a brief exchange of words, then Priscilla ran. That would be for the half
—
hourly bus, Gwenny decided. She watched her mother progress. These glasses were a joy, because it was quite a long walk from the gates, and fun to watch one
’
s
visitors every step of the way, except when they were lost to view behind the jutting wall of the Casualty Block.

When her mother came out from behind that wall, Gwenny saw that she had a young man stepping out briskly beside her. Laurence, by all that was wonderful! Laurence, coming to visit Gwenny? Then she discounted that, and promptly recalled her father admitting that Dick and Tilda Sansom were in the hospital. Laurence would be visiting them, of course. But what was he doing at home, anyway? Could it be possible that he, too, had been transferred to this hospital?

Gwenny
’
s mother was painfully brief about the Sansoms. She didn
’
t like them, Gwenny remembered.

‘
They are a careless couple,
’
Mrs.
Kinglake said, and then got round to the real reason for her lack of warmth towards the Sansom brother and sister.
‘
Dick is a very selfish young man. He has that Land-Rover all to himself, yet he won
’
t ever give any of my old ladies a ride in it—and almost everyone else in the district does. At least they help in some way or other. Everyone ought to help in the way he or she can, and as to that lazy sister of his—all the time in the world on her hands, and will she do any secretarial work for my committees? No, not a line will she write. Not five minutes of her time will she give. All she wants to do is to sit on the back of a horse. And now look where it
’
s got her. It
’
s almost like a judgment
!’

‘
Oh,
Mummy!
’
Gwenny protested.

‘
And your brother Laurence is silly over her. I can
’
t think why. Not the type of girl for Laurence, I would have thought.
’

Gwenny thought of Tilda Sansom; tall and angular, eager and fresh-air-loving, her slaty grey eyes dancing with good health, her sensitive hands wonderful on the reins. What if she never did bother to look well-groomed and frail? Not every girl could be like that. Tilda was strong and energetic, and when she wasn
’
t riding she was taking long country walks, or helping her menfolk on the farm. She wasn
’
t lazy, whatever else she was, but how Tilda did loathe
Mrs.
Kinglake
’
s committees! The old tabbies with their claws unsheathed, Tilda had been heard to say.

‘
And that Dick—don
’
t let me hear anyone say he
’
s trying to get friendly with you, Gwenny.
’

Gwenny turned surprised eyes to her mother.
‘
Is it likely?
’
she asked blankly.

‘
I wouldn
’
t say it was unlikely,
’
her mother retorted.
‘
Laurence tells me that Dick has asked him if you
’
re courting yet. When young men ask other young men that question, it usually means they
’
re thinking on those lines. I don
’
t want that to happen, Gwenny.
’

‘
Don
’
t worry, Mummy. Dick and I just happen to be good friends.
’

‘
I don
’
t want you to be friends with him at all
,’
Mrs.
Kinglake said firmly.
‘
He associates with girls I wouldn
’
t invite home to tea. Oh, well, never mind, I
’
ll take that up with you later. There
’
s something else I want to discuss with you. First of all, how are you feeling
?’

Gwenny
’
s lips twitched. She played with the idea of telling her mother of how weak she sometimes felt, and of how many pains she got in her joints, and how swimmy her head was sometimes, and of how many injections she had and what a large part of her life she managed to sleep away, and of how the R.M.O. stood guard over her sometimes
...
but she said none of those things. Her mother didn
’
t want to hear all that.