New Doctor at Northmoor (18 page)

‘
Ah, I can well appreciate why she said that
!’
he commented dryly.
‘
Is there any more chalked up against me?
’

‘
Well, my brother Laurence was terribly disappointed, of course, when he applied to be at this hospital and you got the appointment instead
.’

‘
But I imagine no one in your home ever examined the point of view that the Board is impartial and that your brother might not just be what they were looking for?
’
he said gently.
‘
Think about it, will you? You
’
re too smart to be foxed into believing a chap is brilliant just because he happens to be your brother
.’

She bridled.
‘
If I want to say Laurence is no good at his job, that
’
s for me to say—no one else
!
’

He laughed gently and patted her hand.
‘
Fair enough. You
’
re a loyal little soul, aren
’
t you? Well, is that all? Or did your mother have one or two things to chalk up against me?
’

She moved her shoulders restlessly.
‘
Well, you did nip in and buy Fairmead when she
’
d been patiently after it for so long, and you never would appreciate just what that house meant to my mother, for her pet dream, did you
?’

‘
In house property one remembers the old adage, about all being fair in love and war, only one changes it to the property market and war. One cam change that adage how one wishes, but it holds good. In business, it
’
s the smart chap with the money who nips in first, but in this present instance, I haven
’
t heard that your mother had many other people backing her up in her rather unusual ideas to the extent of finding enough money to buy such a property. Am I right
?’

‘
I hate you,
’
Gwenny muttered stormily.
‘
You make it sound as if my family was all wrong, and you were so right, right all the time!
’

‘
Oh, I don
’
t know. Don
’
t let
’
s quarrel, you and me, over it. Besides, it
’
s only your mother, brother and sister against me. I don
’
t believe your father ever cut me dead.
’

‘
You
’
re laughing at us all the time, and don
’
t think Daddy likes you any more than the others. I heard him say something about it would have to be
that
man who had our Gwenny
’
s life in his hands! Why did it have to be
that
man?
’

She hadn
’
t meant to say it. It just slipped out. She dashed her hand to her mouth and started to cry again.

Mark Bayfield looked down at his locked hands, and said nothing for a time. He was so silent that it effectively stopped her flow of tears, and she offered shakily,
‘
We are little people. Daddy
’
s just the local G.P. But we have feelings and we like to do things for our friends in our small way, and I get the feeling that Daddy also felt that the Bayfields were too powerful, and he couldn
’
t move because of them blocking him.
Mr.
Ancaster, for instance. Daddy always used to say things like—what will happen when Ancaster dies? Well, now it
’
s happened, and I feel he will be even more frustrated and unhappy because now it
’
s all big business and he can
’
t do a thing.
’

Still Mark didn
’
t answer.

Gwenny persevered,
‘
It isn
’
t only
Mrs.
Yeedon in her little cottage. It
’
s
Mrs.
Taylor in Church Terrace, and her cats.
Mr.
Ancaster was a kind landlord and let her keep as many animals as she wanted to. It was all she had, and he didn
’
t mind—but will a big property company feel like that—that
’
s if they leave Church Terrace alone! Daddy always felt, I think, that they would condemn them as unfit to live in, and turn everyone out.
’

‘
Into nice hygienic homes, perhaps?
’
Mark said mildly, looking up at her with a very queer look in his eyes that she didn
’
t understand.

‘
They don
’
t want nice hygienic places! They want their homes, where they
’
ve trained creepers over the years, and knocked up little rabbit hutches and hen houses and mended them and painted them against the weather. It
’
s sort of stitching your life into things, like
that. You can
’
t just
—’

She trailed off, regarding him miserably.

‘
And you are so weighted down with the problems of these old friends of yours that you won
’
t let me effect a cure, will you?
’
he said gently.

‘
I want you to cure me, of course I do, but I want to know that
Mrs.
Yeedon won
’
t be turned out of her cottage. How can she start a new herb garden at her time of life? And how will she be able to brew homely medicines over an electric wall panel? She doesn
’
t want gas central heating. She wants to bring in her own logs and dry
them in her shed, and I can
’
t say I blame
her. There
’
s
nothing like the smell of her log fires and roasting
chestnuts
and hams hung to cure in the smoke of
the rafters,
and nothing nasty and frozen out of
a
fridge for
supper,
but something brewed in her big iron pot, slowly,
ever
the open fire. You don
’
t know what those
things
are
like
—’

‘
I think I do,
’
he said softly, but she
wasn
’
t listening.

‘
And she likes being isolated. Do you
kn
ow
there
isn
’
t another window overlooking hers for
miles
.’

‘
But she went out and lay exposed
and no one wa
s
any the wiser
,’
he said swiftly.
‘
and
that was how sh
e
got ill, and that isn
’
t
smart at her time
of life.
’

‘
She wouldn
’
t have done anything so silly
if she
h
adn
’t
been worried sic
k
about her future
,’ G
wenny
said bo
l
d
ly. ‘
And anyway, in bad weather, someone
gees to see he
r
every day. It
’
s a long-standing
a
rrangement
.
And s
he
can see what
’
s going on with her fiel
d
-glasses,
and whe
n
she needs help she
keeps
a lamp burning
in her to
window so someone
i
s sure to see it
.’

‘
And yet she was left
o
ut m the open
air long
enough
to get ill
,’
he insisted.

She was defeated. She j
u
st lay
there, tears rolling
down her cheeks.

To take her mind off
Mrs.
Yeedon
’
s plight
he said
gently
, ‘
Don
’
t y
ou g
o anywhere e
l
se but
to
the cottag
es
of these old friends of yours?’

‘Oh, yes, at least I used to. M
ummy used
to make me go with to her to
her c
o
mm
i
ttees w
here
everyone
talked
at once
and
the food was awful. I’d much rather walk outside and visit my old friends!’

‘Would it make you happy if I called in at Church Terrace on the way home one day?’

‘
Home? To Fairmead?
’
she asked quickly.

‘
To Fairmead,
’
he agreed, very low. Fairmead meant a lot to him, she could see.

‘
What
’
s it like now? Have you had much done to it?
’
Gwenny asked him.

‘
Quite a lot. In fact, I rather wondered whether, when you
’
re better, you
’
d like to come and inspect my bungling efforts to make a home out of that poor neglected old place. How do you feel about that? It might be fun, don
’
t you think
?’

For a moment her face lit up and her lips trembled eagerly. Then the light died.
‘
Mummy wouldn
’
t like it,
’
she said flatly. And added,
‘
Anyway, what am I thinking of? I can
’
t go visiting and having fun, when poor old
Mrs.
Yeedon is ill in here and not knowing where she
’
s to go or what
’
s going to happen. Oh, I wish, I wish
—’

‘
Gwenny
!’
he said sharply, so sharply that she was shocked into being silent and still.
‘
Gwenny, shall I see if I can do anything to straighten that out? We don
’
t know yet just what
’
s in the balance. Well, would you
like
me to see what I can do? Will you promise to be calm and quiet until you hear what I
’
ve been able to do?
’

She nodded to all that.
‘
But why should you do anything for her or for the Kinglake family
?’

‘
Who said I am doing anything for them?
’
he retorted softly, and put his hand on her head again.

She savoured all those sensations, just as when he had touched her head before, and she almost missed what he was saying.
‘
Perhaps I
’
m just doing what I can for a very interesting patient, no more, no less,
’
and he went quietly out.

She didn
’
t see him any more that day. Cosgrove said he
’
d gone off duty. Cosgrove had a lot to say about everyone.

‘
Old
Mrs.
Yeedon isn
’
t doing so well,
’
she remarked.
‘
Is it true that that old party knows you? She keeps talking about you.
’

‘
What does she say about me?
’
Gwenny asked her.

‘
Things like
“
remember what I said that last day at my little house
”
, and
“
that one
’
s worth all the rest of them, mark my words
”
, only I don
’
t think the poor old thing knows what she
’
s talking about.
’

‘
Oh, yes, she does,
’
said Gwenny, with a catch in her voice.
‘
It just so happens that she
’
s wrong. It
’
s only her opinion, not mine.
’

‘
Oh! Well, is it a secret?
’
asked Cosgrove, twitching Gwenny
’
s sheets in tightly, though she was well aware that Gwenny would wriggle and wriggle until they were loose again the minute she had gone.

‘
Yes, it is rather,
’
Gwenny said gently.
‘
She
’
s a very old friend of mine, and we used to have little secret natters—nothing very important, but just between the two of us. Would you do something for me?
’

‘
Anything, provided it isn
’
t something that will get me a rocket from Sister,
’
Cosgrove said.

‘
Well, I thought it might be nice if I made a little nosegay from that lot of flowers,
’
said Gwenny, nodd
ing to the daily offering from someone—who, she hadn
’
t yet discovered.

‘
What, from the flowers the secret beau sent you?
’
Cosgrove was shocked.
‘
That
’
s not right, is it?
’

‘
Don
’
t be silly, and it
’
s not a secret beau,
’
Gwenny said impatiently.
‘
That rose on top and the bud under it, and that rather luscious quite beastly flower underneath. What is it?
’

‘
I don
’
t know, but I bet it cost the earth,
’
Cosgrove said feelingly.
‘
What are you hiding from me? I thought we were pals. Well, everyone
’
s talking about your rich man who is years older than you are! Why don
’
t you have him visit you?
’

Gwenny couldn
’
t be bothered to explain that it was just a story to stop Catherine Allen from asking impertinent questions. She was busy winding a bit of string round the blooms Cosgrove had pulled off.
‘
Here
’
s a bit of silver paper from my chocolate. I
’
ll put it round the stems like so, which is how I used to when I took a little nosegay to her from the hedges. She
’
s funny that way
—
she likes a tiny spray, and the thought that goes with it. Tell her—oh, let me see. Tell her Gwenny sent them and to get well quickly.
’

Cosgrove nodded and took the little knot of buds, and came back to report that the old woman had had tears in her eyes and couldn
’
t speak, but did manage to gasp out something like
‘
Tell her not to let him go.
’

‘
I suppose she
’
s one of the favoured ones who knows about the bloke who sends these?
’
asked Cosgrove.

‘
I don
’
t know who sends them,
’
Gwenny said, and didn
’
t care, either, but of course, Cosgrove wouldn
’
t believe that.