The Little Doctor (8 page)

No one, no one in their right senses, Jane fumed inwardly, would do such a thing! The unanswered telephone bell seemed to be ringing loudly in her own ears as she said: “They must have got in touch with someone.”

“They phoned through to one or two farms where they thought the doctor might be going, but he had either just been or hadn’t put in an appearance yet. I think the police have phoned through to Allingham now and the ambulance is coming up. The man seems to be quite seriously injured.”

Jane had already grasped her bag.

“All right,” she said, her voice quite steady now. “Put off the rest of the vaccinations. Tell them we’ll do them next week, at the same time. They’ll understand, I’ve no doubt. This is an emergency.”

It was a personal emergency, too, she thought, getting, into her car within minutes. For herself, for Max, for Valerie.

A small crowd of villagers had gathered near the caravan, knowing that she had been summoned to the scene of the accident. They had probably already offered their own help if there was anything they could do.

How far?” she asked Olive as they drove away.

“About two miles, I think, along the main roa
d
.”

They were both still in their surgery coats. Moments were precious, and they had no idea what they were going to find at some sudden bend in the road. Drumming ceaselessly in Jane’s mind was the thought of the deserted surgery, of Valerie going off without leaving any trace. It was a flagrant betrayal of trust, and in their profession it was even more than that. Life and death could so easily depend upon the telephone being answered without fail, night and day, and now at this crucial moment Valerie had slipped up. She had just not been there. She had taken on a sacred duty on her husband s behalf and failed Max in this, too. Whoever the man was who lay in the wreckage of his car on the road ahead of them, he had every right to expect that a doctor would be within reasonable call.

Whoever the man was? For no reason whatsoever the name of Edward Jakes flashed across her mind. Jakes and Valerie? Could they have been together? Out in Jakes’ car in some mad dash through the dale, perhaps—

Firmly she checked such madly chaotic thoughts. It was a thous
and
-to-one chance that the car she was about to find would be the black Mercedes, and almost with relief she saw the bright blue bodywork of a small saloon gleaming through the trees. The car was up-ended in the ditch and there was a lot of broken glass strewn over the surface of the road. Papers and a brief-case lay scattered on the grass verge, and two bicycles were propped against a nearby stone drinking trough.

The village policeman had arrived just before her, together with two farm laborers who had heard the crash and were probably the owners of the bicycles.

Jane pulled up several yards from the wreckage, although the road was already fairly well blocked to passing traffic. The three men had dragged the injured driver of the car clear of the broken steering wheel and were attending to him on the grass.

With a profound sense of shock Jane recognized the short, thickly-set figure lying there with his head oddly twisted to one side. Only that morning she had crossed swords with Norbert Tinman at the school clinic, and now here he was lying in a pool of his own blood waiting for her professional help. He had regained consciousness but was obviously in great pain.

She knelt down on the grass beside him, running her hands expertly over his shattered body while the small blue eyes squinted up at her.

“The—village doctor—?” he muttered feebly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tinman, I’m the only doctor available at present.” Jane put her stethoscope to her ears. “We’ll soon have you out of here, safely in hospital,” she assured him.

His lips moved, but she could not hear what he said, what protest he made. No doubt, even now, he resented the fact that she was a woman.

He proved to be in very poor shape and it would be at least another half hour before the ambulance arrived from Allingham. She wondered what to do for the best. At the back of her mind a warning voice kept suggesting that all might have been well if it had been anyone other than Norbert Tinman.

Automatically she opened her bag, found a hypodermic syringe and filled it. Olive had already swabbed the skin and she ran the needle expertly home. At least she could ease his pain for the time being.

Swiftly she attended to the superficial injuries he had sustained, the constriction in her throat growing as she had time to think more deeply about the man himself.

“There
’
s not much else we can do for him,” she said when she had finished. “We can only wait and pray that the ambulance will get him to Allingham in time. We’ve done all we can.”

Foolish, perhaps, to keep repeating the fact, but it was all tangled up with the thought of Max and the fact that his surgery had been unattended when a major accident had happened on his doorstep.

She
h
ad been at hand, of course. That had been lucky, but Norbert Tinman was not the sort of man to take these things lightly. If he survived he wouldn’t hesitate to make trouble. And if he didn’t survive—

Her mind shrank from the possibility. An inquest with a coroner bent on digging deeply for the truth. The question of the gap in time before professional aid had become available. Max could be censured,
and
all because of Valerie.

Jane had passed beyond anger now. There was only a cold dull fear in her heart. If only it hadn’t been Norbert Tinman.

In spite of herself, in spite of her professional training, she allowed the injured man on the roadside to take on an identity, and what she already knew about him made her bite her lower lip between her teeth.

Max! she thought. Why had this to happen to you?

When the ambulance arrived she issued her instructions in a brief, clipped voice. A final rapid examination had assured her that the little dentist would weather the journey, and then all she could do was to hand him over to the team from the hospital.

“I’ll follow you down,” she assured the young houseman who had come out for a last word with her. “I’m with the Mobile Unit, but I don’t think anything should go wrong till you reach Allingham.”

She felt that she had to get back to Kirby Marton, and she could contact the hospital from there to hear the result of the journey. The caravan had been abandoned haphazardly, and her coat and handbag were still in the consulting room.

There were small details, of course, when the real issue stood starkly in front of her. She must try and find Valerie.

Driving back to the market place Olive said, “Phew! that was unexpected, wasn’t it? Being old Thin Tinman into the bargain, I mean. It gave me quite a shock when I recognized him. Do you think he’s going to be all right, Doctor?”

“He must be!” Jane had made the answer so vigorously that Olive turned round in her seat to gaze at her in astonishment. “He simply must not die on us.”

“No.”

Olive, who had only a vague idea of the true issue involved, wondered why Doctor Langdon should suddenly be so emphatic. It was not at all like her to panic, even mildly, but her flushed cheeks and tightly-closed lips seemed to indicate more than the usual professional anxiety.

“We’re both a bit gory,” she said after a second’s indecision. “Joe will be squaring up the caravan. I hope he’s left us some hot water for a wash.”

Jane’s thoughts were very far from her personal appearance or even from the caravan. She was thinking about Max, knowing what a shock this would be for him because he had always been so fastidious about his work. If someone had been at the surgery they could have contacted him and he could probably have reached the scene of the accident even before Jane had got there. It was only by the merest chance, too, that she had been on the spot. If it had not been the Welfare day anything could have happened. Norbert Tinman could have died from haemorrhage before the ambulance reached him.

The little knot of people was still gathered round the caravan when they reached it, silent dalesmen and their wives, with a few children playing noisily in what was left of the afternoon sunshine. Jane could not avoid them, but they let her pass without asking any questions. Olive, however, was not so fortunate.

“What happened, Nurse? Was he hurt bad?”

Jane drew the caravan door close behind her. Joe was inside, packing the stores into the capacious cupboard in the waiting room. He glanced round at her.

“Will he be all right?” he asked.

“I hope so.” S
h
e stood thoughtfully in the centre of the van. “We can’t do any more, Joe. I’ll phone through to the hospital when they’ve had time to get there
.
Meanwhile, I think you had better get back with the caravan. Take Nurse with you. I’ll follow you as quickly as I can.”

If she possibly could, she had to trace Valerie before Max returned. The conviction was so strong that she allowed it to struggle uppermost, crushing down the argument that it was no concern of hers. If Valerie cared to wreck her marriage.
..

But it was Max’s marriage, too, and Max’s life’s work that could so easily be at stake.

She crossed to the Golden Fleece and telephoned Allingham. Her patient had just been admitted to the hospital. He was in the operating theater at that moment. He was still alive. That was all they could tell her.

Slowly she replaced the receiver. Out in the market place once more, she stood uncertainly for a moment, and then she drove down the street to Max’s surgery. The door was securely locked.

The answer, it would seem, was Marton Heights. The decision
had been automatic, although halfway there she wondered what she could possibly hope to find. And, after all, she
could
have phoned from the Fleece.

Turning in through the gateway, she saw the white convertible parked in the drive in front of the house. Valerie had come home.

Jane drew up just outside the gate, leaving room for Max’s car if he should return unexpectedly. S
h
e had no idea what she was going to say to Valerie; she had no real right to say anything, but some odd instinct took her the remaining distance to the house.

The door stood open, showing her the deserted hall, but not the staircase. There were no servants about and she stepped over the threshold to become instantly aware of Valerie.

She was standing halfway up the stairs where they swept in a graceful spiral with that disconcerting drop on one side to the cold marble floor below. Jane caught her breath. Valerie’s back was toward her and she swayed a little, her fingers clutching at the inadequate ornamental cord which served as a hand-rail.

Although she had made very little sound as she had come in, it seemed Valerie was aware of her presence.

“What do you want, Jane?” she asked.

Her speech was thick and slurred, and a swift wave of anger shot through Jane, to be replaced almost instantly by a new fear. Could Valerie be ill?

“I’ve come up from the surgery,” she said as normally as she could. “There’s been an accident. They phoned for Max but couldn’t get through to you.”

Slowly Valerie turned. Her face was ashen, her eyes puffed and swollen, as if she had been crying.

“Did you go?” she asked. “To the accident, I mean?”

“Yes, Jane said, but that was all. Valerie looked too crestfallen to be upbraided further.

“I stayed down there all afternoon,” she tried to defend herself. “There wasn’t a call. Nothing happened. It was quite deadly. Then I thought—Max would be back quite soon and I could come away. How was I to know there was going to be an accident?”

Jane had nothing to say. It was the sort of question that defied an answer.

“Where did you go? They telephoned here from the police station.”

Valerie took a long time to reply, as if she had to collect her thoughts from a considerable distance before she could remember.

“I went to Whinstanley—to the Hall.”

To Edward Jakes. Jane stared at her incredulously.

“All right, I know I shouldn’t have gone—not without Milner or Timson driving me!” Valerie cried.
“
Max alwa
y
s makes such a point about that.” She drew her hand across her forehead, blinking in the sudden shaft of sunlight which struck through the window behind her. “He doesn’t trust me, you see.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Jane was beginning to say, when Valerie swayed and fell.

It happened in a split second. Valerie took her hand from the cord, pressing both palms against her eyes, and then she staggered across the stair and fell.

Jane rushed forward, pushing out of the way a chair that could have broken Valerie’s back,
and
Valerie’s limp body slipped down almost gently into her arms. The moment of brief unconsciousness had undoubtedly saved her from injury and after a second or two her eyes opened. She looked at Jane and then beyond her to where Max stood in the open doorway.

Jane did not need to turn to know that he was there. Valerie’s swiftly indrawn breath was sufficient to tell her.

“Val!” He passed Jane and took his wife into his arms. “Blast those stairs!” he said. “I was almost certain something like this would happen!”

Valerie uttered a little, whimpering cry as she clung to him, like a child miraculously reprieved. Jane turned away.

“I’ll get you upstairs,” Max was saying as he lifted Valerie bodily into his arms. “Just relax, darling, and don’t worry. We’ll put you to bed for a while and you’ll be all right.”

His voice held all the tenderness associated with a vast, compassionate love, and Jane saw Valerie’s head cradled against his neck as he carried her gently to her room.

“Will you wait, Jane?” he asked over his shoulder. “I’d like to thank you.”

How could she wait? She did not want him to thank her for what she had just done. There was no need. And then she wondered why he had come back so early, driving straight to the house, instead of calling at his surgery first. Had he already heard of the happenings of the afternoon? Did he already know about the accident when he had not been within call?

A maid came hurrying through from the back premises, looking surprised when she saw Jane.

“I thought I heard the doctor’s car—”

“You did,” Jane assured her. “Mrs. Kilsyth has been taken ill. Perhaps there’s something you could do. Doctor Kilsyth has just taken her upstairs.”

“Oh, my! Has she fallen down?” The elderly little woman looked concerned. “I’ll go and see what I can do. I had no idea she was in. They’ve been telephoning through from the village for the doctor, but we don’t really know much about his comings and goings up here, like.”

Max came slowly down the stairs. His face was quite gray and he looked at the maid as if he did not recognize her at first. When he spoke it was in an odd, strained undertone.

“Will you go up to her, Agnes? I’ve put her to bed. See that she’s not disturbed. You understand? She’ll be all right in the morning.”

He looked towards Jane then and hesitated. It was the same uncertainty she had seen in him twice before, but once again he appeared to turn away from an impulse to confide in her.

I want to thank you for this afternoon, Jane,” he said instead. “You apparently saved the day.”

He knew. He knew about Valerie and it made very little difference.

With an odd little stab of envy Jane saw him again with his wife’s slim young body in his arms, with his lips on Valerie’s golden hair and her head close against his cheek.

“If you don’t mind I’ll go now, Max,” she said. “I promised to get back to the hospital.”

“You’ll keep me in touch, won’t you?” he asked. “I feel that I owe that to Tinman, at least.”

Of course, he would know Norbert Tinman, Jane realized. They might even have worked together occasionally, and in that case, Max would feel doubly responsible.

She went out to her car, wishing again that the accident had happened to anyone but Norbert Tinman, that little mean-spirited man who could be so vindictive when it suited him.