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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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BOOK: To Please the Doctor
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Duncan has a house quite close
to hospital. The other honoraries visit us from London. Duncan hates living in town, so he makes Sunsand his headquarters, although his appointment to the Children

s Hospital in London takes him up there twice a week,

Harriet explained, then enlarged again upon the importance of the work in hand, Duncan McRey

s new techniques in the treatment of children

s diseases, his successes and disappointments, arousing Jill

s interest until she shared her friend

s enthusiasm.


It all sounds enthralling,

Jill admitted.

There must be whole fields to explore in chest technique...

For the next ten minutes they were so deep in the discussion that they were scarcely aware that the trolley had been removed and only the fast-gathering shadows recalled Harriet to the time.

Goodness! It

s past six! I

ve got one call I must make, it won

t take me long. I

ll show you your room and you can be having a wash while I

m gone.


I

d like that ... I think your maid took my bags up; I sent my trunk direct to hospital. I

ve only a few things with me,

Jill said as she followed her friend up the stairs and into the room which had been prepared for her. It had that same old-world charm as the lounge. Its very simplicity lent an air of warmth and comfort, and the coal fire burning in the grate added a welcoming touch. The drawn chintz curtains shut out the dreary vista of the wintry night, and Jill was deeply aware of that homelike atmosphere so
la
c
king
during her years at hospital. She couldn

t help wondering what quarters awaited her at St. Joseph

s; they hadn

t been too good in London, but at least she had got used to them, and through the years managed to imbue them with something of her own personality.


Everything you want?

Harriet gave a hasty glance round the room.

Mrs. Sidons, the maid you saw, is a treasure. I leave everything to her. By the way, she

ll be out this evening. I often get my own evening meal; actually I rather enjoy having the place to myself for a few hours. Have a rest and change and I

ll be back in half an hour, then we

ll have a meal and finish our chat.

She crossed to the window and pulled aside a curtain.

The mist seems much worse. I

ve got to get to Stene; it

s only about three miles, but this weather will slow me down, so I may be longer than I said. But don

t worry, I know every inch of the road; anyway, the fog may only be in patches.

Harriet suggested optimistically.

It

s not uncommon in this district, it

s just a sea mist.


I don

t care what you
call
it,

Jill laughed as, unzipping her dress, she pulled it over her head; for a moment her words were muffled, and Harriet only heard an injunction to go carefully and not to hurry.

The journey had left Jill feeling untidy and dirty and she was thankful to wash and change her crumpled dress for a comfortable house gown. The soft blue velvet suited her to perfection and enhanced the coppery glints of her hair. It was a relic of the days when she had trailed round fashionable hotels with her mother. With a final glance in the mirror, Jill left her room and descended again to the lounge. Following her hostess

s instructions, she mixed herself a drink from the tray which was already set out on a side table, then taking a cigarette she sat back in the armchair prepared to enjoy a quiet half-hour before the fire.

Harriet had certainly managed to interest her in the new job which she would start in the morning; she wouldn

t have dreamed of changing if Harriet

s unexpected letter hadn

t spurred her to action. Maybe it was all for the best, change was always good—so long, of course, that it was a change for the better! For a time
J
ill was entirely lost in her thoughts, then, with a feeling of uneasiness she glanced at the Jacobean clock on the mantel—already past seven ... She rose to her feet and, crossing to the window, drew aside the heavy brocaded curtain. Shading her eyes from the lighted room, she tried to pierce the impenetrable darkness, but without avail. Nothing could be seen, nothing but a swirling mist of fog.

There was little she could do but await Harriet

s return, so with a shrug of resignation Jill returned to her armchair
.
She had scarcely settled down when the strident ring of a bell cutting through the silence brought her to her feet. It had been so unexpected that it had been almost frightening, and it was a moment or two before she regained her composure. It could only be the front or back door; possibly Harriet had forgotten her key. Satisfied with the explanation she crossed eagerly to the front door and threw it open.

I

m so glad you are back, I was beginning to worry!

She broke off with a stifled exclamation as a man

s tall figure emerged from the enveloping, mist and, pushing his way unceremoniously past her, entered the
hall,
closing the door firmly behind him.


Don

t stand there with the door wide open, there is enough fog outside without having it inside, too.

The words and tone, and indeed the whole appearance of the intruder were so unexpected that Jill stared at him with undisguised astonishment. It may have been due to the low-beamed ceiling of the lounge, but Jill thought he must be the tallest man she

d ever seen. The turned-up collar of his hea
vy
overcoat half concealed his features, but she was aware of a thick thatch of fair hair and a pair of steely blue eyes starin
g
her with unconcealed antagonism.


Who on earth are you?

The man

s voice was cultured and held a warm resonant quality, but even those assets didn

t, in Jill

s opinion, lessen the abrupt tone of the question.

I think
I
am entitled to ask
that
question,

she responded with a quiet dignity, and although she unconsciously pulled herself up to her full height, she felt insignificant beside the man confronting her.

I happen to be a friend of Dr. Laine

s. She is out; if you want to see her perhaps you

ll come back later, she should be in shortly.


What, go for a walk—in this—or perhaps wait outside, is that what you mean?

He gave a short laugh, and to Jill

s consternation began to divest himself of his heavy coat.

I

ll wait here if it

s all the same to you,

he announced as he flung his coat over the back of a nearby chair and advanced towards the fire.

Who left that blasted gate swinging, on a night like this, too? It came smash at me, caught me on the hand—look.

He stretched out his hand to display a jagged graze across the knuckles.

Jill

s momentary fear at the intrusion had now left her; for a brief second she had conjured to her mind every kind of disaster from theft to murder. The stranger

s opening remarks were scarcely encouraging, but there was something about his appearance, divested of his overcoat which allayed any doubts she might have harboured as to his purpose. Appraising his tall figure from beneath her lowered lashes, Jill had to admit that he was, in his own particular way, an extremely attractive person. His eyes beneath low, even brows possessed an uncomfortably penetrating quality, the features were clear cut, the firm line of the jaw almost aggressive yet tempered by an unexpected gentle curve of the lips which Jill felt sure, when he smiled would change his whole expression. His conversation so far had been far from encouraging, yet almost to her own surprise she found herself interested rather than affronted with this man

s attitude. Suddenly she became aware of his hand, which he still held out for her inspection.


It

s certainly a nasty cut. Would you like a bandage or something?


Damn carelessness leaving that gate swinging, it might have done even more damage,

he repeated aggrievedly.


I rather think I did that, it was so misty when I arrived I didn

t realize..
.”


I might have guessed,

her companion broke in.

Harriet wouldn

t be so careless.

He gave her a scathing glance from beneath lowered brows.

How about that bandage?

“I’ll
get you one.

Jill was quite glad to escape from the room
. S
he felt almost breathless, as if she had been running, and stood by the kitchen table to regain her breath before filling a bowl with water. After a futile hunt for a bandage or disinfectant, Jill gave it up; it was quite impossible to find anything in someone else

s house, he

d just have to make do with what she could find. It wasn

t much at that and she deeply resented being forced to tear one of her own linen handkerchiefs into strips. It hadn

t been worth even that small sacrifice either, she decided as she noted his disparaging look when she placed her makeshift preparations on the table.


No thanks,
I’ll
do it.

He waved Jill

s offer of assistance.

You don

t seem to realize what a scratch from a rusty nail can do. It

s that kind of ignorance which leads to endless trouble.

Jill turned away to hide the smile which had sprung to her lips. He really was an impossible person, yet his brusque manner still amused rather than annoyed her.


I

d better introduce myself—my name

s McRey, Duncan McRey.

So this was the man Harriet had been trying to tell her about, the man for whom she had committed herself to work! Tricky, Harriet had called him; that, Jill now decided, was something of an understatement. Using every effort to cover her astonishment and shock,
Jill
spoke.

I

m Jill Fernley. I am staying the night with Harriet.

It was obvious that the name conveyed nothing to her companion; it was hardly surprising. Although she would be starting work at St. Joseph

s in the morning it was unlikely that he would have heard her referred to in any more intimate form than that of Sister. Jill felt unreasonably glad of the temporary respite; it was easier to make his acquaintance on level terms. While she ponder
e
d the problems which appeared to lie ahead, she found her gaze wandering to his lean fingers fumbling awkwardly with the improvised bandage. It seemed to her an incredible fuss to make about a cut which in effect seemed little more than a scratch, but that, she had to admit, was a peculiarity
of many men, not only Duncan McRey.

Sure I can

t help?

she ventured, concealing the smile which hovered round her red, curved lips.


Just tie it here.

He extended his hand with obvious reluctance, keeping the finger of his other hand firmly pressed to the centre of the knot.

Jill gently but firmly removed the restricting hold, pushed his hand away and proceeded to wrap the strip of linen in her own fashion, tied it neatly, then deliberately avoiding his eyes turned away and picking up the bowl hurried from the room. She had known instinctively that her action had surprised her companion. She had felt him start to protest; then, thinking better of it, remain silent. She

d been tired of that stupid fumbling. Even an inexperienced
person, as he no doubt thought her, could tie a bandage better with two hands than the most expert with one; if he didn

t approve then he could take the whole thing off and do it again himself. Jill emptied the wash-bowl into the sink, a smile hovering round her lips. By the time he

d finished messing about with it the thing would be healed!

The distraction of the last ten minutes had thrust all thought of Harriet from her mind, but as she returned to the lounge the striking of the clock recalled her uneasiness.

I

m worried about Harriet.

She found herself speaking her thoughts aloud, but was curiously relieved to know she could now share her concern instead of bearing it, as previously, alone.

She should have been back long ago; she left here soon after six.


Where has she gone?

Duncan McRey crossed to the window and, as Jill had done previously, tried to penetrate the outer darkness.


I think she said Stene. There was someone she had to see there.


Yes, she does some private work in the districts around here.

He let the curtain drop back into place and returned to the fireside.

I don

t think you need be unduly concerned. Harriet will be all right.


It

s the fog I

m worrying about
.
She should have been back half an hour ago.


So should I, but I

m quite safe,

Duncan McRey remarked with complete unconcern as he drew a pipe from his pocket and began to fill it with meticulous care, pressing
down the tobacco with his long, lean fingers. Applying a match, he drew slowly until it burned to his satisfaction, then, taking aim, threw the dead match into the fire. His movements were slow and unhurried, and Jill found herself watching him covertly. There was something calming about his presence although he had not instilled his words with either warmth or assurance.


You
are all right, you are here out of the fog, but Harriet may be on the road,

she persisted.


So was I, that

s why I came in here. Harriet will do the same. If the mist gets too thick she

ll stop off somewhere and wait until it clears.


That may be hours,

Jill exclaimed, becoming irritated with her companion

s unmovable air of confidence.


True enough.

Seating himself, he leaned back in the armchair, and crossed one long leg over the other.

Harriet isn

t like the average hysterical and incapable female, she can be trusted to behave sensibly and look after herself. You are a friend of hers, you must know that.


Average females, as you call them, are neither hysterical nor are they incapable; I have a great admiration for Harriet, but that doesn

t make me stupid enough to damn every other woman who hasn

t quite her standard of ability.

There was a note of asperity in Jill

s voice which she made no effort to hide. If she ever managed to endure working for this man at all, she

d have to suffer in silence for perhaps months; she wasn

t going to miss this one opportunity of matching her words to his.

If Harriet is stranded somewhere, why doesn

t she telephone?


You

ve answered the question yourself, because she probably isn

t stranded at all.

Duncan McRey applied another match to his pipe, then rose to his feet.

How about a drink? Do you deputize for our absent—or should I say stranded?—hostess or do I help myself?

Jill rose to her feet in some confusion. She was certain she had detected a gleam of laughter in those piercing eyes, and was grateful of the opportunity to busy herself with the tray of drinks.

What would you like—gin, whisky, sherry?

The strident ring of the telephone caused Jill to pause in her task, but before she could reach the instrument McRey had forestalled her.


Yes, hallo, so it

s you! Oh, I see, yes, we

ll
f
ix a mea
l
all right.

There was silence for a moment as he held
the
instrument to his ear, then he spoke again.

Won
’t lift
tonight? Well, I don

t know—yes, want to speak to her
?”
Duncan McRey turned to Jill where she stood waiting at his elbow.

It

s Harriet; she wants a word with you.


Harriet, dear, I was getting worried about you, Jill began eagerly, then stopped as her friend

s voice came
clearly across the wire.


Sorry Jill, this has just ruined our evening, and I was so looking forward to it. Turned out to be an emergency.
I had to rush the case into hospital and they are operating tonight. The fog is so thick round here; of course it may lift but please don

t worry. I

ll be back when I
c
an.


I won

t worry, but please don

t try to hurry back because of me. You stay put until it clears a bit.


So you have company?

Apparently Harriet had unconsciously lowered her voice and it came more softly through the receiver.

Rather amusing; now you can have a chance of getting to know one another. There was the unmistakable hint of laughter in her voice.


I don

t see anything to laugh at!

Jill protested.

But maybe you are right. Still, it

s an opportunity I would
quite willingly miss!

“Now you why I couldn’t really describe him. He really is indescribable, isn’t he?”
Harriet had a distinct advantage over Jill. Duncan McRey was not standing within a few feet of her listening to every word she said.

He may seem difficult at first, but I have a distinct feeling that
you will cope with him, you

ve got just what it takes.

BOOK: To Please the Doctor
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