by Sue Peters
'No!' She backed out of his reach. 'I'm over fourteen, so I can visit them properly,' she spoke hurriedly, suddenly breathless.
'So you are!' A glint of pure mischief lit his eyes, that held hers for a long moment, giving Nan a brief glimpse of Keir as he must have been when he was a boy, before the cares of the grown-up world had hardened them to the bleakness she had become accustomed to.
'But it isn't visiting time yet.' His lips quirked upwards, and he took half a step towards her, his hands held out. For a second Nan stood her ground, then as he still advanced, her courage failed. She did not think he would actually have the nerve to lift her up, but... With a quick jump she wriggled behind the steering wheel of the Land-Rover and slammed the door shut, and went scarlet with vexation as his laughter mocked her flight.
'How are Bob and Helen, anyway?' She did not trust herself to speak on the journey, but waited until she had time to regain her poise, and Timmy disappeared into the stables to find David before she enquired.
'They're coming along fine.' Keir was serious enough now. 'They're remarkably resilient. It must be the air around Minster,' he remarked.
'And a life that isn't spent racketing around, I expect.' Steve joined them and heard his remark. 'That's bound to help. Bob and Helen work hard, but our pleasures around here tend to be of the homespun sort,' she smiled. 'But what about the other two? The ones in the sports car?' She Strolled along beside them in the wake of the child who, from the cheerful chatter coming from the end stable, had successfully run her husband to earth.
'They're both very ill,' Keir answered her gravely. 'They were badly injured, but they're young, which will stand them in good, stead. I feel sorry for their people,' he added softly, with a force of feeling in his voice that brought Steve's eyes up fleetingly to meet Nan's, both reflecting the same question.
'How did the meeting go?' Nan turned the subject, eager to know the outcome of their afternoon gathering: Wanting to know, but refusing to, ask, what stand Keir had taken over the question of the hospital. Did he support her uncle? Or did he respond to Marcia's brazen invitation, and support the girl's father? Nan's lips curled.
'I'd say it's a fairly evenly matched contest,' Keir answered lightly. 'There are protagonists for both sides, and convincing arguments on each.'
So whichever side Keir supported, his vote would be likely to tip the scales. It seemed wrong that the decision should rest in the hands of a stranger, Nan thought resentfully. Like Marcia's father, he had not been in the district long enough to appreciate its peculiar needs.
'That sounds as if you've got the casting vote,' Steve laughed. 'What a position to be in ! Whichever side you come down on, you're bound to be unpopular with the other half,' she sympathised.
'I hadn't thought of it like that,' Keir grimaced. 'But in any case I can't support either side until I know more about it. I must say the arguments are strong from both points of view,' he conceded thoughtfully. 'For the moment I'll just have to sit on the fence and listen.' Unknowingly he gave Nan the information she wanted. What would be needed to sway him? she wondered. Marcia's blandishments? Or loyalty to her uncle? Glancing sideways at his firm jawline, she thought it would be more in character for him to make up his own mind, and refuse to be influenced by personal feelings either way.
'Come and see the paddocks, Keir.' David provided a welcome diversion to her thoughts by appearing at the stable door leading the boy's pony. 'Mount up,' he told Timmy. 'You can come with us, and lead the way—at a walk,' he added firmly, falling into step beside Keir as they strolled across the stable yard, leaving the two women to follow at their own pace.
'He's nice, isn't he?' Steve nodded towards Keir, who strode ahead of them, deep in conversation with her husband. The sound of their voices came back to them, but their actual words were inaudible. 'David liked him right away,' Steve prattled on happily.
'Liked his tennis, you mean,' Nan laughed. 'Until last night, you two haven't had to work to win a game since you came back to Minster,' she teased.
'He's good,' Steve acknowledged generously. 'Almost as good as you are. No, I mean it,' as Nan protested. 'You've got the edge on his game, but only just. All that he needs is 3. bit more practice, to make you fight to keep your place,' she-warned.
'He'll get enough of that if David has his way,' Nan smiled.
'And no practice at all—at least, not at tennis—if Marcia has hers,' Steve retorted.
'Poor David!' Nan chuckled as she remembered his acute embarrassment. 'He'll think twice before he invites her to a game again.'
'He's got my strict instructions not to,' his wife said firmly. 'Did Keir say anything about her after you left?' she asked Nan. 'I daren't repeat what David said when we got home.' She spoke with feeling.
'Keir didn't say anything to me. He keeps his own counsel,' Nan answered carelessly.
'You don't seem to like him very much.' Steve gave her a shrewd look. 'Why? You got on well enough with your uncle's last assistant.'
'Keir's come as Uncle Oliver's partner. He's on a different footing.'
That doesn't answer my question,' her friend pressed.
'I can't answer it, because I don't know myself,' Nan wrinkled her brow. I don't actually dislike him—yes, I do,' she contradicted herself fiercely. 'I dislike his arrogance. I detest his superior attitude.' She warmed to her task in a manner that widened her friend's eyes, more accustomed to a calm front from her companion. 'Nothing in Minster seems good enough for him,' she threw out her hands expressively. 'He's so darned sure of himself!' she exploded.
'Is, he? I wonder ...' Steve said it reflectively. 'I thought once or twice—when we were pulling that sports car out of the ditch—there was an odd sort of look on his face,' she said vaguely. 'As if—as if ‑'
'He's a good doctor.' Once again Nan found herself defending Keir, and once again she wondered why. 'Uncle Oliver says he's a fine surgeon. And he's interested in research. I think that's why they took to one another in the first place.'
'I don't doubt his capabilities,' Steve spoke quickly. 'He wouldn't be here if Doctor Gray had any doubts about those,' she said loyally. 'No, it's something deeper than that. Something personal, I should say. I thought you would have noticed it, too.'
'I shan't be at Minster House long enough to worry about Keir's personal feelings,.' Nan ducked away from a direct answer. 'Oh, I'll be here for another week or two yet, we can get lots more games in before I go back. But Keir's problems will have to remain a closed book to me,' she said flippantly. 'He'll be here, and I'll be back at Bartholomews, and rarely the twain shall meet. Which is perhaps as well,' she added grimly. 'There are one or two things I like him for, and an awful lot I don't.'
She did not add' that he disturbed her. Disturbed and confused her, like when she was convinced he had come within an ace of hoisting her on his shoulder to wave through the ward window to Timmy's parents. She could not keep track of his mercurial changes of mood, one minute boyish and carefree, the. next critical and remote. She preferred the companionship of John Barclay. The easy, undemanding relationship that neither asked nor gave a great deal, but within which it was possible to relax, she thought wistfully, missing the tolerant liking that each had received from the other. Or was tolerance only another name for indifference? It had not occurred to her to question it before. She could not be indifferent to Keir. His was a nature that must be either loathed or loved, and she was becoming uncomfortably aware that there was only a fine line of difference between the two. Keir would demand, from someone he loved. Demand—and give —fiercely, protectively, and completely, expecting the same in return. A relationship with Keir would be exciting, tumultuous, and deeply satisfying—but indifferent, never.
She caught her breath at the thought, and found she was trembling. Unnerved by her own thoughts, she told herself scornfully, turning to catch something Steve said, and missing the gist of it because she had been listening to another voice inside herself that whispered enticingly of someth
ing she did not want to hear.
'Give him a canter round the paddock, and we'll wait for you here.' David leaned his arms along the split rail fence, and loosed the child through the gate into the next field. 'There's only the two Shires here,' he told Nan, meeting her anxious glance at the field in front of them, 'and they'll come to us, not to Timmy.' He gave a quick whistle as the boy trotted away, and immediately the two great horses left their grazing and ambled eagerly towards the fence.
'They're nothing but babies, for all their size,' he derided affectionately, feeding them the expected sugar cubes, and laughing as he caught sight of the expression on Keir's face. 'Well, you enjoy a square of chocolate occasionally, don't you?' he defended his favourites. 'What's the difference?'
'About half a ton, I'd say,' Keir grinned, squinting up at the Shires. 'But if sugar's their favourite treat, I'll remember to bring a bag along the next time I come,' he promised. 'I owe them something for their help.'
'It's the first time they've been used for a crash rescue,' David said soberly. 'But not the first time they've hauled cars out of trouble. They earned a year's keep last winter when half a motor rally got stuck in a muddy field, and couldn't get going again,' he remembered with satisfaction. 'You've got a good seat, young Timmy,' he called the boy back to them and latched the gate behind him. 'Your father's taught you well.'
'Aunt Mary said I could ask you for a bag of manure for her sunflowers.' Timmy slid to the ground, his small face glowing at the unexpected praise. 'They're not -so big as mine, an' Uncle Oliver said it'd make them grow,' he said seriously.
'Go and fill him a bag while I make a cup of coffee.' Steve joined in the laughter. 'Well, do you approve our stud?' she asked Keir, sliding the sugar bowl across the kitchen table towards him.
'I'm very impressed.' There was no doubting the doctor's sincerity. 'But you must find it a great contrast to your other way of life?' he referred to their tennis careers.
'We do indeed.' David finished scrubbing himself and Timmy at the sink, and surreptitiously slid two of the fanciest biscuits on the plate into the boy's hand. 'But a tennis career has to come to an end sooner or later—sooner, compared to other forms of earning your living,' he said resignedly, 'and we neither of us wanted to turn coach afterwards.'
'We enjoyed ourselves while it lasted,' Steve agreed. 'All the travelling and so on was immense fun, but we wanted to settle down. This way of life's quieter,' she acknowledged, 'but it's more enduring.' She smiled across at her husband, meeting his eyes with the close, intimate look that the two sometimes shared, and which made Nan envy them their happiness. There could be no substitute for finding the right partner, she thought wistfully, and Steve and David were made for each other. She knew they both longed for a child, which was one of the main reasons for them leaving their former life. It would be a lucky child to belong to such parents. A sudden pang of longing shot through her, with a force that almost took her breath away. A home, and children of her own ... But the right partner came first.
'Don't spoil him.' She shook herself out of her reverie just in time to catch David in the act of sliding another biscuit towards Timmy. 'Just one, then,' she relented, and met Keir's lifted lips with a cool glance. 'I'll have to explain him away when he doesn't want his bread and butter,' she defended her action.
'I didn't say a word,' Keir expostulated, but his eyes laughed, and Nan answered him sharply.
'Your look spoke for you. Just the same, the biscuits and coffee were nice,' she thanked Steve.
'Come again as soon as you can spare the time,' her friend invited, 'and bring this one along with you.' She ruffled Timmy's hair.
'They've got their values in the right place,' Keir said unexpectedly, breaking the silence on their way home.
'Steve and David? Mmm... they always have had, really,' Nan replied. 'Even when they were at the height of their tennis careers. They've both got the same sort of outlook, I suppose. They're so straightforward, they see right through any kind of sham.' She was thinking of Marcia, but she did not say so. For all she knew, the girl might be attractive to Keir. 'They could have gone on until they reached the very top,' she continued. 'They were almost there as it was, and then the stud came up for sale as a going business, and they came home instead. It must take a lot of courage to give up like that, when you know you're headed for the dizzy heights,' she added thoughtfully.
'Dizzy heights tend to have a rarefied atmosphere,' Keir spoke quietly. 'It can be hard for a human being to breathe, up there.'
'They knew what they wanted,' Nan nodded agreement. There were some things she could agree on with Keir, though not many, she thought ruefully. 'They preferred the gingerbread to the gilt,' she smiled, 'and they had the sense to know which was which.'
'Lucky them, to know what they wanted—and to have the opportunity to get it,' Keir murmured. 'As you say, it takes courage.'
It was only afterwards, lying awake in the darkness of her room, that Nan realised he had spoken as if from personal experience.
'Come on in and let me wash you, ready for your tea.' Rose collected Timmy as soon as they reached Minster House, and he turned to Keir appealingly.
'What about the bag of manure? Uncle David put it in the back.' He made it plain that his priorities did not include a wash.
'We'll put it in the waterbutt for you,' Nan darted a mischievous look at Keir. It would serve him right, she thought wickedly, for threatening to lift her up on to his shoulder. 'It'll soak all night, and you can give the sunflowers a can of liquid every day. They'll soon grow,' she predicted cheerfully.
'So shall we, if we handle much of this stuff,' Keir wrinkled his nose in disgust. 'Don't worry,' as Timmy tried to wriggle free from Rose's grasp to come and help him, 'Nan will lift the other end. We'll manage it between us,' he adroitly turned the tables on Nan, and she pulled a face at him as she bent down and gingerly took hold of the opposite corner of the sack.
'Take the lid off the waterbutt, and stand back.' Keir disappeared inside the potting shed, and Nan heard him rummaging about in its cluttered depths. 'This will do nicely.' He reappeared brandishing a stout length of wood. 'I'll push it through the ends of the sack.' It was a struggle, but eventually he gave a triumphant grunt as the other end emerged from the hessian. 'I'll heave it into the water myself,' he refused her half-hearted offer. 'It's not too heavy.' He gave the sack a deft swing, and ducked away hastily as the displaced water splashed high. 'It's a bit like dodging the waves on the breakwater at the seaside,' he laughed, and Nan wondered what faraway; carefree holidays it had conjured up for him. Oliver Gray said he belonged to a large family. It would be fun, she thought wistfully. She herself was an only child, and an orphan to boot. The doctor and his wife were the only parents she could remember, and Minster House was her home. She had always had lots of friends, but it would have been nice to have brothers and sisters. To belong. If she had a family herself, she would make sure there were at least two children, preferably, more ...
'The stick's strong enough to suspend the sack,' Keir was saying. 'Now, if you drop the lid back on the butt, it'll stop the birds from drowning themselves trying to get at the water. Hey!' as she took no notice.
'Sorry, I was daydreaming.' She came to with a start and slammed the lid back into place, waiting while Keir ran it round until it fitted as closely as possible on the top of the tub.
'What were you dreaming about? Anything nice?' he asked interestedly.
'Oh, this and that.' Not for the world would she tell him. He gave a slight shrug, and she sighed resignedly, seeing the familiar, withdrawn look return to his face. Why couldn't I have lied to him and said I was thinking about holidays? she wondered in exasperation. Perhaps then he might have opened up and talked about his own. Like the weather, holidays were a gambit that even strangers used as a common ground on which to base a conversation, and if she had only responded it might have, kept the easier atmosphere between them for a little while longer. She felt suddenly weary of the
ir constant sparring. I'll be glad when I'm back at Bartholomews, she told herself. Back in the wards and able to lose herself in the pressure of her work. A fit of depression seized her. It could not be at the thought of returning to work, she always looked forward to that, no matter how enjoyable her holidays. The long stay at -Minster has made me restless, she decided, shrugging away the black mood with difficulty.
'The sunflowers need staking.' She tipped her head back to survey the line of bland brown faces circled by their jaunty-looking frill of yellow petals. 'They're getting too heavy for their stalks. If the wind gets up, they'll spoil.' She glanced at her watch. 'I'll do them after dinner,' she decided.
'I'll tie the higher ones for you, if you like,' Keir offered in an indifferent tone, and Nan answered in kind.
'If you want to,' she said, and with some sort of peace restored between them they went indoors, Keir to get ready for the evening surgery, and Nan to help Rose prepare the dinner.
'By the way,' Oliver Gray diverted his attention for the moment from the fluffy baked apples confronting him, 'the caravans are moving out. I saw the first of them start to pull away at lunch time.' He helped himself liberally to his favourite soft brown sugar, and cast a glance at Nan. 'Just watch it if you're along the lanes for a day or two,' he advised her. 'You're apt to come on them suddenly, round a corner.'
'I'll be careful,' Nan promised, and held out her hand for the sugar bowl, which he relinquished with a shamefaced grin. Nan shared his addiction to its contents, but had more respect for her waistline than he, and she sprinkled her own Bramley with more caution.
'Is there a holiday area around here? I didn't know.' Keir looked surprised.
'They're not holiday caravans, they belong to the gipsies.' Nan hesitated at her aunt's offer of a second baked apple, and succumbed. 'I'll risk a tummyache,' she excused herself, ignoring Oliver's glance of derision. 'They follow the crops,'
she continued her earlier train of thought. -The plums and the potatoes are over -for this year, and the corn is combined now, so there's no work for them there. They'll go south from here to the fruit orchards for the, apple picking, and later on the sprout harvest. There's always casual work to be done on the farms, and the further south they are when the winter begins, 'the better for them. It's warmer down there,' she explained, meeting his enquiring look. 'The wolds here are high, and it can be bleak. Firewood's scarce these days, and ordinary fuel costs money,' she stated baldly.
