Healing in the Hills

by Ruth Clemence

  Ismay smiled. How kind Alec Kynoch was to look at the question from her point of view! She had been worried that she would be unable to carry out the treatment properly. Correct physiotherapy was a delicate matter. Treating muscles the wrong way could put the patient back for months instead of helping them.

  The physiotherapist allocated to Anne’s case was both charming and helpful and Ismay took to her instantly. It was not long before they were both bent over the intricate machine which stood beside the couch. Anne was placed in a half lying, half sitting position and two thick towels were wrapped round her injured knee. The physiotherapist carefully wound a thick cable round the knee over the towels and plugging in the two ends of the cable to the machine standing beside the couch, she set the timer and switched on.

  A low-pitched buzzing immediately began, and when she asked Anne if she could feel her knee getting warm, the girl nodded. ‘If it gets too warm you must tell us immediately,’ the physiotherapist instructed her. ‘I’m just going to look at another patient. If you want anything,’ she turned to Ismay, ‘ring the bell over Anne’s head.’

  When she had gone Ismay took the opportunity of again looking over the machine. Although at first glance it had appeared complicated to operate, her instructions had been so clear that Ismay felt sure she would have no difficulty in managing the one which was to be delivered to Little Grange.

  ‘It will be fun doing this every day,’ Anne said, ‘and my goodness, it does make my knee feel warm and comfortable. How often can I have it done?’

  ‘Only once a day, I think,’ Ismay said uncertainly, and then as the physiotherapist returned she questioned her about this particular point.

  ‘No more than once a day,’ she advised, ‘but exercises as often as possible without it causing undue stress to the knee. I’ll show you how to do them as soon as this part of the treatment is over.’ Twenty minutes later Ismay and Anne were being initiated into exactly the sort of exercises which would strengthen her knee and leg muscles, and before they left the hospital Ismay had received written instructions so that if she was in any doubt she would have them to refer to.

  The following day a large packing case was delivered to Little Grange and Alec and Stephen between them carried it up to Anne’s bedroom. Having made sure that a suitable plug was attached, Alec fitted it into the power point beside the bed, and Ismay proceeded to go through the exact programme which she had seen given to Anne at the hospital the previous day. Anne’s knee was so much more comfortable when the treatment was over that Ismay felt reassured. She would feel no more qualms about not being adequately qualified for this sort of job.

  An opportunity to ask if she might have Tuesday evening free to see Roy occurred the next morning when, on going down to breakfast, she found old Mrs. Kynoch and Alec breakfasting alone together. As soon as she had collected a plate of cereals from the sideboard and Mrs. Kynoch had passed her a cup of coffee, Ismay put her request.

  Alec immediately looked up from his plate. ‘I hear from Mother that you’ve not had a proper free day since you came here,’ he began. ‘Why don’t you take the whole day off after you’ve given Anne her treatment in the morning? I’ll keep an eye on both the girls.’

  Ismay glanced sideways at Mrs. Kynoch, who smiled and nodded. ‘It’s a good idea, Ismay. Why don’t you make an appointment to have your hair done and then go and browse round the shops? You can borrow the little car if you want.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ Ismay began, ‘but that seems a bit...’ she faltered.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Alec interrupted her hesitant sentence. ‘Do as Mother suggests. Give Anne her heat and exercises immediately after breakfast and then go off and enjoy yourself. Get right away from Little Grange and have a real break.’

  When she had thanked them Ismay got on with her breakfast, considering once more how fortunate she had been to have been recommended for this post by the matron of St. Ninian’s. But for Miss Fellows’ kindness she would never have heard of it, and in her state of bemused shock Ismay had not even thought of looking through the newspapers for something to get her right away from Cambridge. But in her wildest dreams she could never have imagined a family like the Kynochs. Apart from Felicity and her occasional brushes with Lewis they were all so easy to get on with.

  She took Alec and his mother at their word and on the Tuesday, as soon as Anne had been given her treatment, Ismay ran upstairs, collected a light coat and her handbag, and going down again, backed the small car out of the garage. She had rung up and made an appointment to have her hair washed, trimmed and set, and at midday she was regarding herself in the mirror in the beauty salon with slight amazement.

  Normally she washed her shoulder-length hair herself and very rarely visited a hairdresser except to have a trim, but she had decided today to have the whole works. Now, gleaming after the use of a special shampoo, the expert hairdresser who had been allotted to her had piled it in gleaming curls, letting one or two fall gently over her left ear to coil smoothly on to her shoulder. It was a completely different style from her usual simple arrangement and she wondered whether Roy Young would imagine she had gone to all this trouble expressly to impress him. She sincerely hoped not. It was not her intention to raise false hopes in his breast—although perhaps I’m flattering myself, Ismay thought, as she got up to go along and collect her coat and pay the bill. Perhaps he falls for every fresh face.

  Whatever the reason behind Roy’s invitation he seemed in a particularly festive mood when he called for her that evening. She had managed to return to Little Grange and creep upstairs to get ready without encountering any of the members of the family, a little shy in case they too thought that this rather elaborate hair-do was for Roy’s particular benefit. It had been merely a whim to please old Mrs. Kynoch, but one that Ismay was already regretting.

  But when she had dressed and made up her face Ismay found she had not the heart to take out the pins and comb out the elegant coiffure, and shrugging her shoulders she turned from the mirror. Let Roy think what he pleased. Picking up her coat, she ran down the stairs to where he was waiting patiently outside in the car. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but beyond saying, ‘Good, I thought you were going to be delayed, and I’ve got a table booked,’ he made no comment on her appearance until they had reached the small inn three or four miles away where he had arranged for them to have dinner. Then as he helped her out of the car he remarked lightly, ‘You look beautiful, Ismay. Thanks for going to so much trouble for me.’

  They were more than half-way through the meal when a disturbance at the doorway made Ismay glance in that direction over Roy’s shoulder. Standing there looking about them, obviously waiting to be shown to a table, were Stephen, Brena and Lewis, who had a tall fair-haired girl clinging on to his left arm.

  They noticed Ismay and Roy as they were half-way down the dining-room and stopped for a second at the table to say ‘Hello’. As they walked away to where the head waiter was waiting to show them to their table Roy sat down again, remarking as he did so, ‘Well, she’s got her wish at last. She’s been angling for a date with Lewis for ages, but I think this is the first time he’s succumbed.’

  Ismay raised her eyebrows in faint surprise and Roy grinned. ‘I suppose you think I’m a typical country gossip, but that girl, the one who was holding Lewis’s arm so possessively, is Dr. Naylor, our anaesthetist at the County Hospital here. She’s quite a dish, as you probably noticed. I’ve tried to date her once or twice myself, but I’m very small beer and she won’t even look at a mere G.P. Now Lewis is a different matter again.’

  Tempted as she was to look over her shoulder and take a second glance at Lewis’s companion, Ismay made herself remain as she was, and overcame her curiosity merely by asking Roy, ‘Perhaps she refused you merely because you’re so much younger than she is.’

  ‘Mind those claws!’ Roy warned her, and Ismay flushed. It had not been her intention to sound catty, but she realized now that that was how her remark
might be taken. She had perhaps unwisely spoken her thoughts. At first glance Dr. Naylor had appeared to her to be considerably older than Roy.

  Determinedly Ismay changed the subject and began to talk about a recent programme which she and old Mrs. Kynoch had watched on television. ‘I don’t get much time for watching the set myself,’ Roy admitted as he picked up the wine bottle and poured a little more wine into Ismay’s glass. ‘You’d be surprised even in a country district how often Dad or I get called out in the evening, but I did manage as it happens to see that particular one and I thought it was pretty good. Beginning of a serial, wasn’t it?’

  They continued to chat on about entertainment, and inevitably came round to discussing Stephen Kynoch. ‘Now he,’ and Roy nodded his head in the direction of Stephen at the other end of the room, ‘is definitely one of our best television actors. And yet he hasn’t a bit of side to him, as you’ve probably found out.’

  ‘No, and they never even told me who he was until he walked into the house,’ Ismay admitted. ‘You could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather when I discovered he was Lewis’s brother. You might have expected old Mrs. Kynoch to have said something to me. After all, she idolizes her sons.’

  ‘Oh, don’t think she isn’t pleased as Punch about his successes,’ Roy said. ‘She’s like a dog with two tails if somebody mentions how much they like him on television, but you’d never get her to admit it or tell strangers that she’s his mother.’

  Ismay smiled. ‘She really is a dear—and that’s completely in character, now I come to think about it. I can’t tell you how kind she’s been to me since I’ve been at Little Grange.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’ Roy’s voice was warm. ‘I’ve known her since I was a boy. She, Mum and Dad are old cronies. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have access to the house, and although I’m a good deal younger than Lewis, I often used to go up there and trail around after he and the others during holiday periods. Of course they seemed like heroes to a boy at prep school.’

  When they came out of the inn it was still early. It was a beautiful evening and the wind had dropped sufficiently to make it seem a sin to stay indoors. They walked over to the car park and as they stood beside the car Roy raised his head and looked at the sky. ‘It won’t be dark for at least another hour yet. How about us running up to Troutbeck and having a beer at the Mortal Man? Does the idea appeal?’

  ‘Yes, enormously,’ Ismay said as he opened the door and helped her into the passenger seat. ‘I once went that way with the Guides many years ago, but I haven’t been there since. The view should be stupendous if we’re in time to catch the sunset.’

  Although Roy put his foot down they were held up by a road accident on the main road through Ambleside and it was getting dusk when they reached their destination. Nonetheless, as Ismay stood beside the car, Roy’s arm lightly over her shoulders, she drew in her breath at the splendour of the countryside, spread out before her. Even in the failing light the view was spellbinding. They both stood in silence for several minutes before turning with one accord and going in to have the promised drink.

  It was nearly eleven-thirty when they turned in at the drive of Little Grange, and Roy stopped the car quietly outside the side door of the house. ‘I’ve enjoyed this evening more than I can say.’ He turned to Ismay and slid his hand along the back of the passenger seat behind her.

  She immediately straightened so that his hand barely touched her. ‘And so have I, Roy.’ Somehow she must let him down, as lightly as possible. ‘I’ve been lucky to meet someone like you up here, and I’m more than grateful for a lovely evening. I can’t tell you how nice it is to go out with somebody who doesn’t expect an immediate return in exchange for their hospitality.’

  Roy looked at her in silence for a moment and then he laughed, though Ismay sensed the disappointment under his laughter. ‘Well, that’s telling me,’ he said as he withdrew his arm and sat up. ‘In other words, no romantic ending to the evening.’

  Ismay felt small. A kiss would not have mattered one way or the other, or would it? It might have given him the idea that she was not indifferent to him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she began.

  Roy immediately held up his hand to interrupt. ‘It’s I who should apologize for sounding churlish.’ And then he grinned at her. ‘But it’s not often I get told quite so bluntly that my advance would be unwelcome.’

  On an impulse Ismay leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. ‘I am sorry, Roy, truly I am,’ she said. ‘You make me feel an awful heel. But I think you understand what I’m trying to say, don’t you?’

  ‘Perfectly, and it’s nice of you to be so honest. There are dozens of girls who would sit there like a wooden image and let me make love to them because they felt they owed it to me,’ Roy admitted. ‘I like you for your honesty, Ismay, and to be as blunt as you, I’d rather not kiss a girl who isn’t willing. I prefer a bit of response. Kissing a reluctant girl is a bit like making love to an ironing board.’

  Ismay burst out laughing and then clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’ll be waking up the entire house! Mrs. Kynoch and the girls go to bed pretty early, as you know.’ She opened the car door before turning to face him again for a brief moment. ‘Well, thanks again, Roy. It’s been a lovely evening. And thanks for being so understanding,’ she smiled warmly as she slipped out of the car and went quickly into the house.

  Ismay was still smiling to herself as she got ready for bed. What a pity all men were not so understanding. What a pity it was Roy and not Lewis who wanted to take her out; to kiss her a fond goodnight. But of course if he once had had ideas in that direction, she had very successfully scotched them by her attitude towards him when she first arrived. Imagining him to be Felicity’s husband, she had not been very forthcoming, even gauche in his company, and that slap she had given him would be the coup de grace as far as Lewis was concerned. Not knowing she thought he was a married man, he would construe her action in only one way, and he wasn’t a man who would need telling twice.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  She was thrown into his company quite by accident the following Saturday evening. Alec and Felicity had taken the girls out to spend the day in Grange-over-Sands and would not be returning until late in the evening, Mrs. Kynoch had driven herself over to have dinner with her old friend William Burns, and there had been no sign of Stephen, Brena and the boys all day, so presumably they were off on some expedition of their own.

  Lewis had been called away to London and had been absent since the previous Wednesday morning. He was not expected home again until Sunday, but he turned up just as Ismay was preparing supper for herself, Mrs. Fletcher having asked off to visit her married daughter in Windermere.

  Ismay had decided to grill herself a pork chop and make a green salad to go with it when a voice behind her made her jump, a hand to her mouth in momentary dismay. She relaxed when she saw Lewis leaning against the door, and letting her hand fall she exclaimed breathlessly, ‘What a shock you gave me! We didn’t expect you back until tomorrow. You should give warning before you creep up on people.’

  Lewis strolled into the room and sitting on one corner of the big kitchen table scrutinized Ismay’s flushed face and wide eyes. ‘I had no idea your nerves were so bad,’ he remarked, ‘or I would have signalled my approach. You’re like an overstrung fiddle-string. What you need is a good tonic to calm your nerves. Perhaps Roy Young would prescribe for you,’ he went on slyly as Ismay made no answer, ‘though his prescription is more likely to read “one ever-loving husband and two bouncing babies” than any of the more orthodox remedies.’

  Ismay laughed, refusing to let him see that this teasing hurt and turning back to her cooking began to season a chop.

  ‘There wouldn’t be another where that came from?’ Lewis asked. ‘I’ve had nothing since breakfast except a bun and a cup of coffee and I’m starving.’

  ‘There are half a dozen in the fridge.’ Ismay was getting dow
n the grilling pan.

  ‘In that case I’ll have a couple,’ Lewis decided, ‘and whatever else you’re having if it will run to two.’

  Ismay felt a mixture of surprise and confusion at Lewis’s unexpected affability, but she forced herself to appear calm. ‘I was going to make a green salad with French dressing,’ she volunteered, ‘and then just have cheese and biscuits with my coffee.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful.’ Lewis rubbed his hands together in anticipation. ‘You get on with the meal and I’ll lay the table and put the coffee in the percolator. Let’s have it in here. No sense in carrying everything through to the dining-room if there are just the two of us. I take it everyone else has gone out.’

  Ismay explained the whereabouts of the various members of the family as she walked between table, cooker and fridge, trying to keep an eye on the chops and mix the dressing at one and the same time. There was freshly washed lettuce in a bowl, parsley and chives which she had gathered from the garden earlier, and ten minutes later she and Lewis were sitting down to loaded plates.

  There was a lull in the conversation as Lewis ate hungrily and Ismay watched with some amusement as the food on his plate vanished at twice the speed of her own. Suddenly he looked up, a forkful half-way to his mouth and caught the sparkle of fun in her eyes.

  He laid down his knife and fork and laughed. ‘Making a pig of myself, am I? You’ve no idea how good this tastes. I loathe eating in hotels and half the food in London tastes to me as if it’s been cooked on Monday and warmed up for the rest of the week. Give me home cooking every time.’

  Ismay burst out laughing and Lewis’s eyes twinkled at the infectiousness of her laughter. ‘Just a simple soul at heart, are you?’ she asked as her mirth subsided. ‘Pull the other one!’

  ‘Now is that kind?’ Lewis sounded hurt though his eyes still twinkled and he was, Ismay suddenly noticed, eyeing her somewhat speculatively. ‘A simple soul is actually what I am, though you don’t seem able to see that for yourself. You’re perpetually looking for an underlying meaning to everything that’s said and for an ulterior motive in people’s actions.’