They had come to a viewpoint on the road that showed the valley below with the inlet from the sea snaking into it and the majestic hills and mountains stretching far out into the distance. Christa skidded to a halt in the layby, the car facing the view. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I should never have flown off the handle like that. But do look! How could you think of defiling countryside like that?’
Lachlan’s expression softened and he smiled at her. ‘Apology accepted,’ he murmured.
He leaned forward and scanned the scenery. It was one of those nippy autumn days with a foretaste of winter, the sky a piercing blue and the trees turning into a magical kaleidoscope of reds, oranges and scarlet, interspersed with green.
‘It all looks just the same, I’m glad to say,’ he said softly. ‘I can remember it all—that special magic and colour that the Highlands possess. Soon those hills will have a white cap of snow on them, and all the trees will have lost their leaves.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I promise you, Christa, I would never think of defiling the place.’
Christa raised her eyebrows cynically. Sincerity seemed to blaze out of his eyes. But she’d heard men make promises before when in the end they’d wanted their own way.
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she growled.
‘Trust me, please. Now I’m back I realise how much of my heart is here, how many of my earliest memories remain with me. Why, I recall fishing in the loch somewhere along this road when I was a kid. I don’t want to change the place.’
He smiled beguilingly at her and Christa’s irritation with his ideas began to fade, despite her misgivings.
‘You’ll be thinking of Loch Fean,’ she said. ‘It’s up in the hills fairly near to where we’re going.’
‘My friend Colin and I used to go off for the day together when we were kids.’ Lachlan turned to look at her. ‘Didn’t Colin work in the practice for a time?’
Christa’s foot hit the accelerator rather hard as she set off again, and they skidded round a bend on two wheels. Lachlan grabbed the dashboard as they missed the other side of the road by inches, and she wrenched the steering-wheel back, wondering what on earth he thought of her driving.
‘Sorry! Sorry! Foot slipped! Yes...’ she said lightly. ‘Colin worked for a while in the practice, but he left and works in a practice a few miles away.’
‘I haven’t spoken to him for years—I wonder what happened to him?’
‘Oh, he got married...’ Her voice was offhand.
‘So old Colin got married—I never thought he was the type to make it to the altar! Was he at my mother’s funeral?’
‘Yes, he was there with his wife.’ The familiar pang, mixed with sadness, fluttered through her when she recalled Colin standing with his beautiful pregnant wife at the funeral.
The car shuddered to a halt as she stopped at a cross-roads, turning right towards her patient’s home. She changed the subject from Colin and his wife to the patient they were going to visit.
‘By the way, we’re going to see Fred Logan—he’s eighty-seven and lives with Bessie, his wife. She and Fred enjoy verbal scraps with each other, but both of them are very frail.’
Lachlan smiled. ‘Ah, so Fred Logan’s the shepherd you were talking about? He used to give us chocolate mints if he saw us fishing. He and his wife were very kind to us. I’d like to see him again. Is it just a regular check-up, then?’
‘Lorna Storey, the community nurse, told me this morning that she didn’t like the look of him when she checked him at the weekend after a fall he had. Like a lot of the independent souls around here, he refuses to believe or admit he’s ill.’
‘Is it his heart?’
‘Partly—he has congestive cardiac failure for which he’s on vasodilator drugs, but his immediate problem is his cut hand and she’s worried it may become infected. I’ve brought some antibiotics with me to save Lorna coming out again. He hardly ever gets down to the village.’
‘Does he have a family?’
‘A son, Ian, who works in Inverness. He does his best, but his own wife works at weekends and they have two children, so it’s difficult for him to get away. He’d like his parents to go and live nearer them, but being an independent couple they’re resisting that. Lorna wants me to persuade them to have some daily help.’
She turned into a long, bumpy drive, with stone walls on either side and multiple potholes on the surface. At the end could be seen a small cottage with smoke curling straight up into the air from one of the chimneys.
‘Here we are! By the way, take a few lungfuls of fresh air before you go in—Fred likes his pipe!’
Christa knocked on the door and then opened it, and Titan trotted in. It was cold in the room, although Fred was sitting by a peat fire, wrapped in an old shawl. He was wreathed in smoke from the pipe he was puffing, and Titan bounded up to him, putting his nose on the old man’s knee.
‘Ah, Titan, you wee thing—it’s good to see you. Bessie! Bessie! It’s the doctor—bring some treats for the dog now!’
A tiny little woman with the hunched back of someone afflicted by curvature of the spine came out of a back room, drying her hands on a towel and smiling a welcome.
‘Ah—there you are, Doctor! It’s good to see you, and little Titan. We’ve got his special dog biscuits in case he came.’
‘No wonder he loves coming here,’ remarked Christa as she watched Titan skid across the floor to Fred’s wife and sit watching her patiently until she produced the longed-for treat. ‘But I’ve not come so that Titan can be spoiled by you! I hear from Lorna that Fred’s had a fall and cut his hand badly.’
‘Aye, and he’s in a bad mood today, won’t have any breakfast. I tell you he’d rather have that filthy pipe than food! I’ve told him there’s nearly fifty years of pollution in this house! Perhaps he’ll take notice of you and stop smoking.’
‘I doubt he will, Bessie, I’ve told him often enough. Anyway...’ Christa drew Lachlan forward ‘...I’ve brought someone with me you may recognise—he says Fred used to give him chocolate mints many years ago when he was fishing in the loch. Lachlan Maguire!’
‘Well, I’m damned,’ quavered Fred. ‘Can you believe it, Bessie? It’s Isobel’s son! We haven’t seen you for many a year. I remember you when you were just a wee lad, fishing with your friend...’
Bessie beamed at him. ‘You used to go past the cottage with your bikes!’
‘And you used to come out with some shortbread—we loved that.’ Lachlan smiled.
The old lady put her hand on Lachlan’s sleeve and said gently, ‘We were so sorry about your mother’s passing, my dear, she was a very good woman. And I know she was so proud of you.’
‘I think everyone around here was very fond of her,’ said Lachlan. He looked down at the carpet, bunching his fists in his pockets, and Christa wondered how difficult it was for him to meet the local people who remembered him and his mother in happier times.
Fred looked at him over his glasses. ‘And where did you get to all these years?’
‘In Australia with the Flying Doctor service.’
Bessie looked impressed. ‘My goodness—so far away! And have you got a family of your own now?’
‘I’m afraid not, Bessie—I don’t think I’m the marrying kind!’
‘Nonsense!’ said Bessie firmly. ‘There’ll be someone in this world just waiting to meet you, somewhere! You young people probably think it will never happen, but it will!’
‘That’s nice to know, isn’t it?’ He grinned. ‘Although I have heard it said that some single people around here wouldn’t get married for a million pounds!’ For a second Lachlan’s dancing eyes locked with Christa’s.
So he had heard what she’d said to Alice and Ginny, thought Christa. A blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and a sudden nervous urge to giggle overcame her, which she disguised by blowing her nose.
Fred drew on his pipe and looked at Lachlan keenly under his bushy eyebrows. ‘Bessie and I thought it w
as cut and dried that you were going to join your mother when you’d qualified, and then you disappeared...’ he growled.
‘I suppose it was a sad time for the lad—he needed to get away...’ interspersed Bessie.
Christa flicked a covert look at Lachlan. She was learning quite a few tantalising things about Lachlan’s background!
Lachlan shook his head and said lightly to Fred, ‘My plans altered. But I could never forget the folk around here that I grew up with, I assure you, Fred.’
‘Aye, well...have you come back for good?’
‘I hope so, Fred, for the time being at least. I’m going to be working with Dr Christa.’
Fred grinned, showing a mouth missing several teeth. ‘She’s well worth coming back for, a bonny lass like her! You’re a lucky young blighter, aren’t you?’
‘Hush, Fred!’ admonished Bessie. ‘You let your tongue run away with you.’ She smiled at the two doctors. ‘Now, I’m going to get us some tea and a little bit of the shortbread you like while you look at Fred, Dr Christa.’
‘A cup of tea would be lovely, Bessie.’ Christa sat down beside Fred. ‘Right, Fred, first of all, what have you been up to with your hand?’
Fred looked down at his bandaged hand as if he’d forgotten about it. ‘This? Och, that nurse of yours did it up for me, but she’s always fussing about. I cut it on a piece of glass when I was pouring myself a wee dram. The tumbler fell out of my hand and I fell, trying to pick it up.’
Christa took his gnarled old hand in hers, and undid the bandage. His fingers were misshapen with arthritis, but what worried her was the palm of his hand, swollen and red, with the danger that the infection might spread, leading to septicaemia.
‘Lorna was worried that it might be infected, Fred, and I’m afraid she’s right. You’ll need antibiotics, and it’s most important that you finish the course. I want you to take one tablet four times a day. Lorna will come in tomorrow to see how it’s going on.’
The old man frowned and repeated slowly, ‘One tablet four times a day? How can I do that? If I’ve taken the tablet I can’t retake it!’
Christa laughed. ‘You’re right, Fred, I put it badly. I should have said take a tablet four times a day...’
Fred winked up at Lachlan. ‘You’ve got to watch these lasses—she’s trying to make out I’m doolally!’
‘I’ll put these tablets in the box divided up into sections for each day with all your heart pills.’
‘I’ll be like a rattle when I’ve finished,’ Fred grumbled.
‘Talking of food, Bessie says you haven’t eaten today.’
Fred waved an irritable hand at her. ‘Stop fussing, woman! Bessie’s trying to force-feed me, and I’m not hungry.’
‘And it’s none too warm in here,’ said Lachlan, going to the door. ‘You need some more peat on that fire, and I’m going to get some. I bet there’s some already cut outside.’
Christa watched him go out and reflected that Lachlan Maguire had hidden depths. When she’d first encountered him he’d seemed brusque and impatient, and she would never have imagined he would have been the thoughtful and kindly man he appeared to be now with the Logans.
She took out her sphygmomanometer and stethoscope out of her bag, and started to check Fred’s blood pressure, and then listened to his heart. As she’d expected, it sounded erratic and fast, labouring to circulate the blood round his body.
‘Well, how is it?’ demanded Fred. ‘I’ll bet it’s racing with a lass like you so near me!’
‘You’re a wicked old man, Fred.’ Christa laughed, putting away her stethoscope. ‘But I really wish that you’d let us get you both a little bit of help—someone just to come in for a few minutes a day to give you a hand with things. It would help Bessie, you know,’ she added craftily.
Fred scowled. ‘Has my lad Ian put you up to this? He wants us near him in Inverness, but I’m not bothering them. Anyway,’ he added half-humorously, ‘my daughter-in-law’s a real tyrant—I don’t fancy being in her hands!’
Christa knelt down beside him, took his gnarled old hand in hers, looking into the faded blue eyes, and said gently, ‘They’re worried about you both being so isolated, Fred—we all are. Won’t you try it for a little while, please?’
The old man sighed. ‘Aye, lass, perhaps you’re right. The two of us are getting no younger. I’m a stubborn old fellow, I know. But if you think Bessie needs help then you can go ahead and organise it—but just for a wee while, to tide us over.’
Lachlan appeared with a box of peat sods and put one of them on the fire, where it hissed and sent up a spiral of aromatic smoke.
‘I see you’ve lost a few tiles from your roof, Fred,’ he said. ‘The winter’s coming on and you ought to have them looked at.’
‘Aye. I’ll do it when I’ve time, lad.’
Lachlan laughed. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you should do it. I’ve got a builder coming to Ardenleigh and I’ll send him up to do them for you.’ He put his hand up to stop Fred’s protest. ‘And before you say anything, that’s doctor’s orders!’
Fred subsided back in his chair and shrugged. ‘You’re bullies, all of you!’ he said gruffly, but Christa felt there was a certain relief in his manner, as if he’d realised that it wasn’t such a bad thing to accept help—if only for Bessie’s sake.
Bessie reappeared and handed round cups of tea in pretty little cups of bone china and a plate with warm shortbread covered with sugar. She wouldn’t let Christa help her pour out the tea or distribute the food—however frail, she was determined to show the doctors that they could do things independently. Despite Fred submitting to help, it was going to be difficult for them to accept that someone would be coming in every day to keep an eye on them. They were so used to doing everything for themselves.
‘When Lorna comes in tomorrow morning to look at your hand, she’ll introduce you to the home help she’ll put in place,’ Christa explained. ‘She’s such a nice young girl and will do any shopping for you once a week—and if you need the bed changed or perhaps a casserole done, she’ll do that for you...’
Bessie stood up and said indignantly, ‘I certainly don’t need anyone cooking for us—I hope I can still put a hotpot in the oven!’
‘Consider yourself told off!’ remarked Lachlan with a grin as they left.
* * *
The car did its usual impression of a bucking bronco as they set off again towards the valley below the Logans’ cottage, a rough, grinding noise coming from the engine.
Lachlan raised his eyebrows. ‘It really might be a good idea to get this car serviced soon. It sounds very dodgy to me.’
‘Oh, don’t fuss, it’ll be fine. It’s never let me down yet.’
Christa put her foot on the accelerator and the car seemed to recover for a few miles, but after a renewed series of bangs inside the engine and one or two lurches it came to an abrupt halt.
They both sat in stunned silence for a second, then Lachlan laughed, ‘Never let you down, eh?’
‘It’s Sod’s law, isn’t it? Blast the thing! Are you any good at mending engines?’
‘I can have a go, but on the whole I’m more au fait with the human body. You’d better ring your rescue company.’
Christa scrabbled for her phone and scrolled down to the number. After a few seconds she looked at him quizzically. ‘No signal,’ she reported.
‘I’d better have a look at its innards, then.’ Lachlan climbed out of the car and opened the bonnet, peering into it with a frown, then scratched his head. ‘As I said, I’m more familiar with human intestines than all these pipes and tubes in a car. Perhaps,’ he said hopefully, ‘the plugs need cleaning.’
He delved into the engine, took out the plugs and began cleaning them with his handkerchief, then examined the oil and water levels.
‘See if that brings it back to life,’ he said.
Christa turned the key. There was a spasmodic cough and a brief shaking, then silence.
‘I don’t
seem to have cured it,’ remarked Lachlan. ‘We’ll have to wait until someone comes along, I suppose.’ He looked up at the Logans’ cottage, high above them on a hill and the little spiral of smoke drifting over the roof. ‘I could run back there and use their land line,’ he suggested.
‘It’s miles away, and I’m sure someone will come along soon.’ Christa gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I should have had the thing serviced, I know—there just didn’t seem to be a window of time, what with organising the funeral and trying to get a locum...’ She flicked a guilty look at Lachlan. ‘Sorry, I’m certainly not moaning about organising Isobel’s funeral. It’s just—’
‘I know,’ he said abruptly. ‘It must have been difficult, and of course I’m very grateful to you.’ He was silent for a second, looking down at the road, scuffing the dirt with his shoes, then he said roughly, ‘Of course I should have been there to do that. If I’d known earlier that she’d died...’
‘We tried to find you—her solicitor did his best. If you’d left a forwarding address...’
Was it guilt that made his expression change and harden? Whatever it was, Christa had touched a raw nerve. ‘Well, I didn’t leave a forwarding address,’ he said tersely. ‘It’s too complicated to go into now, but if my mother hadn’t been so damn selfish...’
Christa stared at him in surprise. How could he say that about his mother? Surely she had been the most gentle and kindly of people and not deserving the cold-shoulder treatment meted out by her son.
‘Aren’t you being rather harsh on Isobel?’ she said coldly.
Lachlan scowled. ‘You don’t know the circumstances—you see her as a colleague, not as a mother who ruined her son’s life!’
There was a shocked silence broken only by the bleating of sheep in a field across the valley.
‘What on earth do you mean?’ asked Christa bluntly. ‘How the hell did she ruin your life? Isn’t this all rather melodramatic? After all, you’ve had a good job in a wonderful country—all you had to do was send the odd e-mail...’
Return of Dr Maguire (Mills & Boon Medical) Page 5
