Promise the Doctor

by Marjorie Norrell

  ‘Don’t you believe it, love.’ She sounded bored and disillusioned. ‘Money in the bank or the pocket, or the prospects of a partner whose earning capacity can equal his own, means a lot to every ambitious young man. I know the girl who’s Tony’s main model has worked with him on the contract I’d had my eye on in those two fashion magazines, and they’re pulling in a nice fat salary each out of those alone ... that was how we’d planned it,’ she ended bitterly, ‘and that goes for almost every man, in my opinion. If you’d been left the value of this house and its contents, instead of more or less having to live in the place and look after whoever it was you tell us cares for the house and grounds, as well as the rest of us, Pete wouldn’t have thought twice about asking you to marry him! With capital behind him he could start up on his own account, and that’s where the money’s made in his line of country.’

  Continuing to get ready to leave for the bus from the end of the terrace which took her to the bottom of the hill where the General was situated, Joy felt a sudden surge of thankfulness that she had not confided in Lana about Pete’s astonishing outburst on their return from Vanmouth. She was about to go through the door when Lana spoke again.

  ‘By the way,’ she asked casually, ‘what about this doctor friend of yours, the one you met when you went to see Fernbank? Has he got any money, do you know?’

  Joy felt the warm colour in her cheeks and hastily stooped as though to attend to the laces of her sensible ward shoes, but when she spoke she was relieved to note nothing of the turbulence of emotions which shook her at the mention of Doctor Quentin sounded in her voice.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything about his personal affairs,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to discover all you want to know when once we get there. He’ll be your doctor, you know. I thought you would rather we all went to him as our family doctor than the only other one in that area.’

  ‘I don’t really mind.’ Disinterest was back in Lana’s voice. ‘I don’t suppose either of them will be able to do anything for me, any more than Doctor Frankton and the hospitals round here have been able to do. I just thought it might be worth while ... cultivating his friendship.’

  Joy went out at that point, giving the door an unnecessarily sharp slam behind her. How different Lana was since her accident! She knew a long illness, or a long time of being in bed and with little or nothing to do, often played queer tricks on the personalities of people, but she had never expected her own sister to change in quite such a fashion.

  ‘She doesn’t mean it,’ Joy told herself firmly as she boarded her bus, but the nagging thought persisted that Lana did indeed mean what she said, and though her scope might be limited, tied as she was to her bed or day couch, there was no denying the fact that she looked even more beautiful than ever, since her long inactivity and stay indoors had given her a delicate, fragile air which was undoubtedly appealing.

  With an effort Joy dismissed all worrying thoughts of home from her mind as she began her work of the day. Tomorrow she and Pete were summoned to the court in Vanmouth where the case of the boy on the bicycle and the lorry and trailer which had hit him was to be heard. Matron had been most helpful about arranging time off for Joy to attend the court, but she was certainly not looking forward to the trip with Pete, not after what had happened when they returned home last time!

  She need not have worried. Pete was just as friendly and as helpful as he had always been when he tooted the horn of the little car outside their door the following day. He made no references to Doctor Quentin or to his own affairs, but kept the conversation going on topics of everyday interest obviously culled from the morning’s paper.

  They arrived at the court in good time and were shown where to sit. Doctor Quentin was there and he waved to them, but Pete neither moved nor spoke. The case was soon over, and Joy realized that her unspoken fears of acting as a witness to an accident had been completely without foundation. The lorry-driver was exonerated from blame, and as the boy, a certain Tom Robinson, was still in hospital he was not there to hear the warning given by the magistrate to boys who tried to hang on to the backs of moving vehicles to help them along the road.

  Doctor Quentin was waiting for them outside the court. He greeted them with a friendly smile and looked appreciatively at Joy in her smart navy and white mufti.

  ‘If you care to run up to The Poplars,’ he told them, ‘that’s the name of our house, Mother said would you care to join us for lunch? If you would rather call at Fernbank, I know Mrs. Wrenshaw will be able to dish up something choice in a matter of minutes, she loves to do things like that, but you’ll be very welcome at home, I do assure you.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ Pete answered before Joy had time to choose which would give least offence to the two women she had already decided she liked very much, Mrs. Moyser and Mrs. Wrenshaw, ‘but I thought we might be a little pushed for time and so I took the liberty of ordering a lunch for us both over the telephone this morning. I’ve booked a table at that restaurant I saw on the corner when we came before, the Golden Pheasant.’

  ‘And a very good meal they serve too,’ Quentin said without rancour. ‘When do you hope to move in?’ He spoke directly to Joy so that this time Pete had to remain silent.

  ‘The first of June,’ she told him, ‘or, to be more precise, the last day of May. That will give me a week at home to help Mother with the packing and whatnot. It also means that if we’re out of Cranberry Terrace before June the first, Mother gets one third of the quarterly rent returned, since they have someone waiting to come in. That should just about pay for the removal and the ambulance.’

  ‘Ambulance?’ Quentin’s brows shot up, then he nodded, smiling. ‘Oh, yes, for your sister. Will you leave that for me to arrange, Miss Benyon? I think I may be able to help.’ He half turned away and then back to her again. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I haven’t heard of your being over for interview at St Lucy’s. You aren’t waiting until you are settled, are you?’

  ‘I’ve an appointment there for this afternoon,’ Joy informed him. ‘The Matron at Wilborough telephoned through for me this morning. She thought it better than having to make another journey or leave it until we arrived here.’

  ‘I agree.’ Quentin nodded again and once more turned back to his own car. ‘Good luck,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’ll get on very well with Enid Penrose. She’s a charming woman. Leave the ambulance to me, don’t forget, and we’ll look forward to seeing you before long.’

  He was gone with a cheery wave of the hand, and Joy was not conscious of staring after his car until Pete gave her an ungentle and brotherly prod to attract her attention.

  ‘If you want to be on time for your appointment,’ he said crisply, ‘then we’d better get a move on in finding our bearings for that restaurant again!’

  It was not long before they were seated at a small table for two in the lovely restaurant of Pete’s choice. When she looked around her and cast a quick, experienced eye at the prices on the menu, Joy immediately offered to ‘go Dutch’, but with a lordly gesture Pete waved the offer on one side, and, wisely, she refrained from saying anything more.

  The meal was perfect and excellently served. How she repressed a shiver when the bill was presented to Pete Joy never knew, but Pete accepted it calmly, counted out some money from his wallet and, as yet another gesture, she was certain, laid a generous tip on the plate.

  ‘I’ll drive you to the gates of the hospital,’ he offered, ‘then I’m going to take a walk around the town for an hour or so before I come back for you. I just wanted to see what sort of openings there are likely to be in my line, if I ever decide to follow you all.’

  ‘Very well.’ Joy forbore to say he needn’t bother about looking for accommodation as well. She wasn’t sure as yet that she wanted Pete back as a member of their household. It would be different if he ever found some other girl. She’d rejoice with him then as, one day, she hoped she’d rejoice when Rex found a girl of h
is own with whom he’d be happy to spend the rest of his life and who would be right for him. But not just yet!

  Pete drove off and left her, and Joy found herself being shown into a small waiting room by a pretty young cadet nurse, and told that Matron would see her in a moment.

  Matron did not ring for her quite so quickly as that, but she certainly did not keep the girl waiting, and as she was shown into the small office with the single word ‘Matron’ on the door, Joy wondered just what sort of woman she would be working under this time.

  The first minutes of her meeting with Enid Penrose were enough to convince her that Quentin Moyser had been quite right when he had said she would ‘get on very well’ with her new boss. Enid Penrose had taken the Matronship of St Lucy’s at a remarkably young age, but she dealt ably and firmly with her responsibilities, and did not allow them to narrow her own life or the lives of those about her.

  Joy understood her at once. She was a woman with all the knowledge and dignity demanded of her profession, a woman who, if immediate impressions were to be trusted, was in exactly the right job. She loved her work and her brain was quick, clear and alert. She was young, but she knew the value of discipline, both for herself and for her staff, yet there was nothing of the dictator about her in any shape or form.

  She glanced quickly but carefully at Joy’s letters and testimonials, her certificates of qualification, then looked up, smiling from a long-lashed pair of very dark brown eyes.

  ‘We’re at present without a regular Sister on the Maternity Block, Sister Benyon,’ she told Joy. ‘I suggest you begin there, if that is agreeable to you? You will, of course, change round as time passes. You can study our working rota at your leisure. I have a copy here.’ She handed Joy a neatly typed page. ‘I understand that you wish to live at home.’

  ‘Please, Matron,’ Joy said. ‘I promise that what I do at home won’t interfere with my work at St Lucy’s. I didn’t allow it to at Wilborough General, and I had quite a way to travel on the bus every morning.’

  ‘You will at least be close at hand here,’ Matron agreed, ‘if, as I understand it, Fernbank is to be your new home. One or two other people from here also live along that road and come in daily. You may be able to arrange some form of regular transport with one or other of them.’

  ‘I hope, in time, to buy a little car of my own.’ Joy surprised herself by the statement, but all at once it seemed the obvious thing to do. With the rent and rates now taken care of, there would surely be enough for her to run a small vehicle for herself, since previously it had been the running costs of the thing which had been a deterrent to such a purchase.

  ‘An excellent idea,’ Enid Penrose nodded. ‘There’s a very good school of motoring in the town, if you don’t drive already.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Joy said. ‘Thank you.’

  They chatted a little longer, then Matron rose, touching the bell on her desk.

  ‘I expect you would like to see round the hospital first,’ she enquired, shaking hands. ‘I’ll have Cadet Ronsome take you round, and I shall look forward to having you report here on the first of June.’

  ‘I’m going to like her, very much,’ Joy surprised herself by the realization. ‘Just how did Quentin Moyser know she was just my sort of person?’

  There wasn’t time for any further speculation along those lines. She followed her guide through St Lucy’s, little Cadet Ronsome a little overawed by being delegated to conduct the new Sister around the premises. She liked what she saw. The hospital was not old but not really new. There were two new wings, one of which contained the maternity block of which Matron had spoken. There were many up-to-date clinics of all descriptions for outpatients, and the staff she encountered seemed pleasant and charming people.

  She thanked her guide and went outside to wait for Pete on one of the wooden forms which dotted the entrance to the hospital, but she had not been there many minutes before he came speeding back to brake in a little cloud of dust beside her.

  ‘Everything all right,’ he asked, beaming as she nodded. ‘Good. I’ve had a sort of adventure too.’ He switched on the engine and the car began gently to descend the gradual hill. ‘I was looking round, as I said I would, and all at once a little dog dangling a long length of ribbon behind it came pelting down the road, obviously pleased to be out on its own! I’d caught hold of the ribbon before I realized there was a girl trying to catch the dog. She was breathless and upset, but very glad to get the little beggar back. Said it was a birthday present to her mother or something and that she’d begged to be allowed to take it out. Seems she’s used to big dogs, never thought a little ball of fluff like that could have ideas of its own. Anyhow’—he put out the indicator and headed the little car in the direction of Wilborough—‘the incident might have done me some good. She says her father’s a local business man, and she’d have a word with him as to what prospects there might be for me around here, so I gave her Mrs. Parrott’s address and I’m hoping ... How did you get on?’

  Discussion about the hospital, Matron Penrose and the girl with the dog whose name Pete was annoyed with himself to discover he’d forgotten to ask lasted them most of the way home. By that time Joy had decided the episode of the night they had first been to see Fernbank was over and forgotten between them, but when she invited Pete in to share their evening meal as he had done all these long years past, he shook his head.

  ‘I’d rather not, Joy, thank you all the same,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want to upset you any more before you go. I’ve enjoyed today,’ he added unexpectedly, ‘and I hope it won’t be long before I’m back with you all again, then things can go on as they used to do.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ Joy agreed as they said goodnight and she turned into her home alone, but she knew in her heart that things would never ‘go on’ between herself and Pete in the old way, not ever again, and somehow she hoped with all her heart that he might encounter someone else, someone like the girl whose dog had run away, in whom he could really be interested and who would be interested in him and with whom he could and would fall deeply and sincerely in love.

  There was little further time to worry-about either Pete or anyone else. Her goodbyes to Marcia and the others at the Wilborough General had to be said, her farewell made to Matron, then she was walking down the steep hill and to the bus home for the very last time.

  The week which followed was a chaotic blur ever afterwards in Joy’s mind. She had not realized that in almost twenty years of living in one house, a family could collect so much stuff which was not worth their while to take with them when they left! At’ last everything was sorted, crated and packed. The great day arrived, and Mr. Anderson came down to their house to tell them Doctor Quentin had telephoned to say the ambulance would be along in about half an hour.

  ‘I don’t want to get there first and be all by myself with a pair of strangers!’ Lana wailed, and refused to be consoled until Joy volunteered to ride in the ambulance with her and would, therefore, be there when Lana arrived.

  The moving van, a very large one, went off with the twins sitting at the front with the driver and his mate. Aileen, who had said she and Cousin Emma would travel down by train, was surprised and obviously more than a little touched when, at the last moment, just as she was saying an almost tearful farewell to Mrs. Jarvis who had been’ her neighbour for twenty years, Pete arrived and announced that he had managed to get the afternoon off and would drive Aileen and Emma in the wake of the ambulance and the furniture van.

  The ambulance went first, and the last Joy saw of Cranberry Terrace was the furniture van outside the door of her late home, her mother and Cousin Emma standing by Pete’s mini, and those neighbours with whom they had grown friendly over the years offering advice and help whether it was wanted or not.

  The journey, so far as the ambulance and the driver and his helper were concerned, was quite uneventful, but Lana, who could see nothing from where she lay, grew bored and fretful as the miles sped by. It was al
l in vain for Joy to talk to her of the beauties of the May countryside through which they were speeding. She could see nothing of it, and although Joy opened the windows so that the scent of the freshly growing countryside could reach her, Lana still grumbled and remained irritable throughout the long journey.

  Joy was heartily thankful when the ambulance at last turned in at the Shore Road. In a few minutes, she thought, she would be able to distract Lana’s attention from the slight discomforts of the journey, and in new surroundings and amongst new faces, it would not be long before her sister set out to charm everyone, as she always did. The ambulance stopped at the gates of Fernbank, and to Joy’s unutterable relief she saw Quentin Moyser leave his own car across the road and station himself at the gates of the house as the men opened the doors of the ambulance and prepared to lift Lana out.

  Accustomed as she was to the effect of her sister’s undeniable beauty on those who encountered it for the first time, in some way it had never occurred to Joy to think of what possible effect Lana might have on Quentin. She need not, she felt, wait for words. One look at his face as he smiled down at the fragile figure on the stretcher seemed enough to tell her all she wanted to know. With a muttered word or two about going inside to tell Mrs. Wrenshaw they had arrived, she left them, Quentin still standing at the head of the stretcher, but as she talked to the sympathetic housekeeper and her husband, she felt the first cloud pass over what had seemed such a cloudless and promising future not only for her little family, but for her own happiness in the days which lay ahead.

  CHAPTER VIII

  There was little time for introspection that first evening. The twins and Aileen, and Cousin Emma too despite the fact that her rheumatism was paining her rather more than usual, insisted on a complete tour of the house, from the deep, mysterious old-fashioned cellars to the attics themselves.