‘What did you say?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘I said yes, and I know what you’re thinking. It will make me miserable, being with a lot of other people’s children.’
‘Yes, something like that,’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘You know, sometimes I think you’re disappointed that I’m not pining any more,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m all right with Liam, aren’t I, and the children I treat at the surgery? I can’t avoid them because I’ve got none of my own.’ Then his good humour returned. ‘Remind me to practise my Ho, ho, hos.’
As he drove along on his rounds, he saw a sprightly Lizzie Drury moving along the pavement, and she waved. He pulled up beside her and, pointing to her leg, she said, ‘I’ve got the dressing off at last, Dr Beaumont. I don’t have to go to the clinic any more.’
‘That’s great news, Lizzie,’ he said, and continued on his way to visit a newcomer to the village. The story going around was that seventy-year-old Jennifer Maxwell had been an actress until a fall on stage had caused a serious leg injury that had ended her career.
The house she had moved into had belonged to her brother, Lionel, a reclusive bachelor. He had let what had once been a desirable residence fall into disrepair, and now, according to the village grapevine, the drab place was coming to life. Cobwebs were being swept away and refurbishment had begun.
Steve had never met the woman, but knew she’d signed on with the practice when she’d arrived in the village, and he was looking forward to meeting her.
Breathing difficulty had been mentioned when the request for a visit had been made, and when a receptionist had asked if she could manage to get to the surgery she’d said frostily, ‘Definitely not.’ And so there Steve was.
Jennifer did not look a happy woman, he thought when she answered the door. There were pain lines around her mouth and a sour expression on her face, but in spite of her age, or maybe because of it, there was a sort of toned-down elegance about her.
‘I’m Steve Beaumont, your GP,’ he told her, taking note that she was using a stick for support as she stepped back to let him in.
‘Yes. I know. I’ve seen you around the village.’ The voice was more pleasant than the expression, he thought.
‘And what is the problem?’ he asked, above the noise of drilling and hammering in the background.
‘I’ve been coughing up blood and I’m short of breath,’ she explained with bleak brevity.
‘Let’s see what your chest has to tell me,’ he said, producing his stethoscope, ‘if you wouldn’t mind unbuttoning the top two buttons of your blouse.’ The woman nodded stiffly and he proceeded to examine her.
‘You have a chest infection, Jennifer,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to put you on a course of antibiotics. As for the blood that you’re coughing up, I’ll need a sample of sputum brought to the surgery the next time it happens. Then we can send it to be tested.’
Jennifer sighed. ‘There’s been a horrendous amount of dust and grime flying about since I brought the workmen in, and after a few days I developed a hacking cough.’
‘The blood could be from a burst blood vessel in your throat, caused by the severity of the cough,’ he commented. ‘If that proves to be the case, it’s nothing to worry about, but we do need to check it out.’
‘All right,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘I’ll do what you ask.’
‘Good. By the way, Jennifer, how are you enjoying country life?’ he asked, on the point of leaving.
‘I’m not. I was brought up in this mausoleum. I escaped by going to drama school and after that had some good parts. I was on top of the world, having the time of my life, until I had a fall and shattered my leg. The doctors put it all back together again, but it’s now shorter than the other and there isn’t much call for an actress with a limp.’
‘That was tough luck,’ he said sympathetically. ‘But it doesn’t explain why you’ve come back to your roots, if you don’t like country life.’
Jennifer sighed. ‘With the loss of my career, my earnings disappeared. The insurance people paid out, but it didn’t last for ever. Then my brother left me this place. He’d arranged that there would be enough money to have it repaired, but in his will stipulated that it was only to be used for that purpose. If I didn’t come back to live here, the money was to go to charity, which meant that the house would have become even more derelict than it was already. So, you see, I didn’t have much choice.’
Steve nodded. ‘I get the picture,’ he told her. ‘But surely you can use your talents in another way? Maybe by teaching drama. Or how about forming a drama group here in the village and putting on a show or a play?’
She managed a wintry smile. ‘Is it a regular thing?’
‘Is what a regular thing?’
‘You dishing out therapy at the same time as pills.’
He smiled back at her. ‘It is sometimes. Then again, sometimes I find that I’m the one who needs to be pointed in the right direction.’
‘Are you married?’ she asked.
‘Yes. My wife is the other partner in the practice.’
‘Children?’
‘No.’
‘Well, they can be a nuisance.’
He didn’t take her up on that. He knew that lots of theatre folk put their career before all else. Even Melanie, who loved her baby, hadn’t been able to resist the pull of the stage.
When he got back to the surgery and told the receptionist who’d tried to save him a visit what the problem had been, she exclaimed, ‘The woman could have come to the surgery with that!’
‘Yes. I know,’ he agreed, ‘but I sense that she’s depressed and the state of that house is enough to depress anyone. But I’ve impressed on her that she has to get here with a sample of sputum as soon as possible, and as the car at the front of the house would indicate that she can still drive, there is no reason for her not to do so.’
He didn’t tell Sallie about his suggestions regarding Jennifer Maxwell’s dramatic talents as he wasn’t sure if the old lady would want to do such things, but the more he thought about it, the more he could see a village pantomime or musical taking shape.
‘Perhaps we should invite her for a meal some time,’ Sallie suggested that evening, when he mentioned his visit to Lionel Maxwell’s old house briefly. ‘She might feel more as if she belongs when she gets to know some of us.’
Steve smiled across at her. After being with the miserable mistress of the grim house on a remote lane leading to the moors, it was good to be back with the one person he wanted to be with.
The next morning one of the practice nurses reported that the sputum sample had been delivered and had gone off to be checked, and that the woman who’d brought it had looked as if she didn’t know how to smile.
There was no denying that Jennifer Maxwell was not a happy woman and with that in mind he mentioned her to the vicar that same day.
Robert Martin was in his forties and whether it be a member of his flock or not, it made no difference to the diligence with which he did his job. If someone was in any kind of need he was there, and when Steve mentioned the lonely, not very mobile woman to him, he immediately said he would call on her and ask if there was any way that he could be of help.
They were an easy, friendly family, Robert, his wife Alison and their two teenage children, and no matter how often the phone rang on parish business, or who appeared on their doorstep, the vicar and his wife were always ready with a listening ear or a helping hand.
When Steve told him that he’d tried to get Jennifer interested in a drama group or something similar, Robert said, ‘I’ll back you up on that. We have teenagers who hang around with nothing to do in the evenings, and as most folk are always eager to get involved in some sort of drama, this lady could fill a gap in their lives if she is agreeable.’
‘That’s just it,’ Steve explained. ‘I don’t think that she wants to be agreeable. She’s already told me she doesn’t like country life so don’t be too disappoint
ed if she shows you the door.’
The vicar laughed, unperturbed. ‘That’s happened to me a few times, I can tell you, but we clergy are thick-skinned. I’ll report back when I’ve bearded the lady in her den.’
When the results on the sputum came back there was no cause for alarm and Steve decided that it must have been as he’d said, a blood vessel that had ruptured due to coughing.
When the receptionist rang Jennifer to give her the good news, the elderly lady asked to speak to him. She told him that the vicar had been to see her, and was there a conspiracy afoot. She just wanted to be left alone, and before he could reply she’d gone off the line.
‘Don’t give up on her,’ Sallie said, when he told her what had happened. ‘Leave it for a while and then try again.’
‘Whatever,’ he agreed absently. They’d just finished eating and he was anxious to pay his nightly visit to the new house.
The nativity play was a huge success. The hall of the village school was packed with parents and grandparents, keen to see their offspring in whatever role they had been given to play.
When the performance was over there was an interval, and Steve went to get dressed for his part in the proceedings, which was to be coffee and mince pies for the adults and presents from Santa for the children.
While he was away Sallie looked around her and her glance rested on a woman sitting in the back row of the school hall in the seat nearest to the door.
She guessed immediately that it was Jennifer Maxwell, from Steve’s description of her. It would seem that the school’s amateur attempt at drama had brought the elderly actress out of her shell, she thought as she moved towards her through the crowd.
‘I’m the other Dr Beaumont,’ she said with a friendly smile. ‘I believe you’ve already met my husband.’
‘Yes, I have,’ she said, without returning the smile. ‘He and the vicar want to integrate me into village life.’
‘I can recommend it,’ Sallie said. ‘I’m so glad that you decided to join us tonight. The folk here are a friendly lot and on these sort of occasions most of those in the audience are connected with one of the children in some way or another.’
‘Yes. So I believe,’ the actress said, without any noticeable softening. ‘He said that you and he hadn’t got any family, but I’ve seen you both out with a baby.’
‘That’s Liam, my husband’s niece’s son. We are looking after him while his mother is working abroad. Our housekeeper, Hannah, is minding him for us tonight.’ And having no wish to discuss that angle of their private affairs any further, she changed the subject by asking, ‘Are you going to join us for mince pies and coffee? Steve is Santa and is looking forward to giving out presents to the children.’
But it seemed as if attending the play was to be the extent of Jennifer’s venture into village life, as she shook her head and said, ‘No, thanks. I have to get back. I’m expecting a phone call.’ And on that note she limped out into the winter night.
Steve never did anything by halves. Santa he had been asked to be, and Santa he was as he took the youngest children onto his knee and listened to their bemused requests for Christmas morning deliveries, and when the older children of the primary school, who were less in awe of him, had their moment, he bent an attentive ear, not forgetting his ‘ho, ho, hos’ at regular intervals.
Sallie found herself smiling as she watched him. The children had no idea that Santa was Dr Beaumont who sounded their chests and took their temperatures when they were poorly. For just this short time he was for them that other focal point of Christmas.
They’d done the baby-in-the-manger bit with the shepherds and wise men, and now their thoughts were on what Santa was going to bring them on Christmas morning. Somehow Sallie didn’t think they would be asking for gold, frankincense or myrrh.
‘I met Jennifer Maxwell tonight,’ Sallie told him when they were back home beside the fire.
‘You mean to say she was at the play?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t believe it! The last time I spoke to her she said she wanted to be left alone. So maybe the vicar and I have got through to her and she’s ready to drop the Greta Garbo thing.’
‘She isn’t the easiest of people to get to know, is she? It was hard work, trying to make her thaw out, and I don’t really feel that she did in the end.’
‘You’ve described her exactly, but I’m sure she’ll come round eventually. The fact that she’s turned up at the only dramatic-type evening we’ve had in ages is a good sign.’
‘I think that she relates to you more than me,’ Sallie said. ‘She wasn’t exactly beaming her approval when she met me. Maybe she thought your wife would have been more spectacular.’ She was laughing when she said it but he didn’t join in.
‘I don’t care what anyone else thinks. It’s whether you still think you’re right for me that matters. Do you? Or have I really blown it?’
She didn’t meet his glance. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You sleep with one of my old shirts in your arms.’
Her face flamed. ‘How do you know that?’
‘You kept crying out in your sleep one night and I went to see if you were all right. I saw it then, and have wondered ever since what could have been the reason for your distress.’
‘I’ve no idea,’ she said shortly. ‘I must have been agonising over something in my dreams.’
She was saved further embarrassment as cries from the bedroom informed them that Liam was awake, and Steve was on his feet immediately. When he brought Liam into the sitting room there were two spots of bright red colour on his cheeks and the tears were flowing fast. He was teething and not liking it.
‘I suggest that one of us gives him something for the pain in his gums, followed by a dry nappy and some gentle cuddling,’ he said, ‘and that the other makes some tea.’ He was smiling again. ‘One sugar for me, Sal.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY hadn’t had many disturbed nights with Liam, but the one that followed was in a class of its own. There was a tooth almost through and it was hurting, no matter what they did.
Every time they’d soothed him off to sleep he awoke the moment they laid him in his cot and started crying again. At three o’clock in the morning Steve said whimsically, ‘Wrap him up warm, Sallie, and I’ll take him for a drive. That usually does the trick, and I won’t come back until he is in a deep sleep.’
She flashed him a tired smile. ‘All right, but don’t be too long. It will soon be time to start another day.’
‘I know that all too well,’ he told her, ‘and while I’m away get some sleep yourself.’
When he’d started the car she carried Liam carefully down the stairs and fastened him into the baby seat. As Steve prepared to drive off, she shivered in the night air and, pulling her robe more tightly around her, told him, ‘This is crazy, but I’m coming with you.’
‘Not as crazy as him crying all night,’ he said. ‘Liam will be out like a light as soon as he feels the movement of the car. But there’s no need for you to come. Go to bed while you have the chance, Sallie.’
She was opening the car door and slipping into the passenger seat. ‘I wouldn’t go to sleep if I did. Not with you driving Liam around the neighbourhood as a last resort. Tonight would have been horrendous if I’d been on my own. I’m so glad to have you around on these sorts of occasions.’
If it had been a calmer moment, instead of with Liam’s cries ringing in his ears, he might have asked, And what about the rest of the time? And maybe got the kind of answer he didn’t want.
He had been right. Liam closed his eyes and went to sleep almost immediately, but Steve wasn’t going to turn back, not until he was really settled. As he drove around the village all was still, no signs of life anywhere. Suddenly out of the blue a police car came from a side road and waved him down.
He stopped and wound down the window and one of the two officers who had stopped him asked, ‘Might I ask where you are going, sir,
and can I see your licence?’
‘We’re not going anywhere in particular,’ Steve said as he passed his licence over. Before he could explain further, Liam woke up and began to cry once more.
‘There’s your answer, officer. We’ve got a teething baby in the back who just won’t go to sleep, so in desperation we’re taking him for a drive. Does that satisfy you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ve been there myself a few times. It is just that cars driving slowly around the neighbourhood at this time of night are sometimes up to no good.’ And he waved them off.
Liam’s wails subsided when the car moved off again, and, glancing across at Sallie, Steve rolled his eyes heavenwards. It was hilarious to be suspected of being burglars while dressed in their nightwear with coats flung over the top and a teething baby in the back of the car. She was laughing and he joined in.
By the time they arrived back at the apartment Liam was well and truly asleep and as they gently laid him in his cot, still wrapped in the blanket, the clock on the bedside table said five o’clock.
‘No use going back to bed,’ Steve said, when they’d closed the door quietly behind them. ‘We would be having to get up within the hour. Do you fancy a game of Monopoly?’ And she dissolved into laughter once more.
Sallie wasn’t laughing as the day wore on, though. By the time the afternoon surgery was over she was beginning to feel the effects of their sleepless night, and when Steve came up to the apartment she was yawning while Liam was whizzing around happily in his baby walker.
‘Are we to take it that the tooth has come through?’ he said.
‘He won’t let me look at the moment,’ she told him, ‘but in view of his good humour, I think it must have.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ she agreed. ‘The moment that Liam is settled for the night, I’m off to bed. You’ll have the place to yourself.’
‘I might do the same,’ he told her, ‘but I have to pop out first.’
Sallie woke up suddenly from a deep sleep and saw from the clock that it was two in the morning. At the same moment she realised that it was the telephone in the hall beside her bedroom door that had woken her up.
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