by Jenny Holmes
Did he mean Myra dying? Hazel wondered. Is that what had brought doubt into his mind? ‘Oh, I would if I was you,’ she urged.
‘Maybe,’ he said again, looking at her then changing the subject. ‘Tell me – have you had a nice time?’
‘Yes, it’s been worth getting clarted up with mud for,’ she assured him, judging that teasing would be the best way to bring the smile back to his face. ‘I’m not sure that Dad will be happy, though.’
‘What’s it got to do with your dad?’
‘He’s the chief shoe cleaner in our house.’
‘Take them off,’ John commanded suddenly as he opened the car door and made her sit down. ‘You’re right – I can’t send you home in this state. Come on – unfasten the laces, hand them over.’
She did as she was told, kicking off her shoes and watching him use a stick to scrape mud from the soles then wipe them on the grass. Her feet dangled sideways out of the car – a silly position that made her feel embarrassed.
‘We’ll have to do this again,’ he said as he handed the shoes back one at a time.
Hazel bent forward to tie her laces. When she looked up, he was still crouching beside the car and his eyes met hers. They were light brown, flecked and striped like hazelnuts in their shells. Her face felt flushed and she was unsure how to strike the balance between rushing headlong where her heart was leading and holding back for propriety’s sake.
‘That would be nice.’
‘In a week or two? Or is that too near Christmas?’
‘No. I’d like to meet up again soon.’
‘Same time next week, then?’
‘No – let’s say the week after.’ There – she’d established the compromise.
John’s smile was back. He stood up and walked around the front of the car, tapping the bonnet as he went. Then he stooped to ease his tall figure into the driving seat.
‘In two weeks’ time,’ she said, a flurry of strong feelings flitting around her fast-beating heart.
‘Welcome to the new regime.’ Eleanor greeted Hazel with a disgruntled nod towards Irene Bradley who carried a tray laden with cups and saucers up the stairs to the clinic. ‘Irene has moved in and I’ve been taken off tea duty.’
‘How is it working out?’ Detecting a hint of jealousy in the receptionist’s voice, Hazel set down her bag then took off her hat and gloves.
‘She’s got a lot to learn,’ Eleanor grumbled. ‘This morning I caught her emptying the contents of the carpet sweeper into the waste-paper basket in your clinic room. There was dust everywhere. Luckily there was time for her to clean up the mess before your ladies arrived.’
My ladies. Hazel smiled and puffed out her chest at the idea. ‘How many have we got today?’
‘Five so far.’
Relieved that attendance was slowly returning to its original level, Hazel was eager to start. She went quickly upstairs and counted heads – five women and three children – and decided to ask Irene to bring orange squash and beakers for the little ones. ‘It can wait until tea break,’ she added above the chatter.
Dressed in a grey blouse and serge skirt with a blue cotton apron over the top, Irene made a mental note. Nervous of getting things wrong, she nevertheless seemed less cowed than when Hazel had first met her and her face and figure were gradually fleshing out.
‘How’s little Grace?’ Hazel found time to ask.
Irene stood a full inch taller at the mention of her baby and her face broke into a tender smile. ‘She’s a good little thing, touch wood. No trouble at all.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘Fast asleep in my room,’ Irene reported. ‘She won’t wake up until it’s time for her feed.’
‘Why not bring her to clinic when she’s awake? We’d all love to see her, wouldn’t we, ladies?’
There was a chorus of yeses followed by a cheeky remark addressed to Hazel from Cynthia Houghton at the head of the queue.
‘There you are, slow coach. We’ve been sitting here twiddling our thumbs for ages.’
‘You must have been early, then. I’m bang on time.’ Carefully avoiding two toddlers and one crawling baby, Hazel crossed the room and laid out her instruments behind the green screen. ‘Anyway, I’m here now. Come in please, Cynthia. Let’s see how you’re getting along.’
‘Couldn’t be better,’ Cynthia assured her as she got undressed and lay down to be examined.
‘Yes, you look as if you’re blooming. Being pregnant suits you.’
‘And I’ve started reading about it, getting myself up to speed.’
‘About what happens when you have a baby?’ Hazel took Cynthia’s blood pressure then checked her ankles and fingers for signs of swelling.
‘Yes, all that malarkey. It was Tilly’s idea. It’s fascinating – there are books that show you pictures of a woman’s insides and how the baby grows.’
Hazel smiled and made encouraging noises before listening with her stethoscope. ‘Next time, can you bring in that urine sample I mentioned? And I’d like you to start noticing baby’s movements – perhaps count how many kicks you feel during an hour – in the morning and again in the evening. Write it down if you like.’
‘This one is kicking non-stop,’ Cynthia told her cheerily. ‘I swear he’s wearing clogs. My old man is convinced I’m giving birth to a second Stanley Matthews.’
‘Champion. Everything looks fine.’
‘Can I go now?’ Cynthia hauled herself into a sitting position then swung her legs over the side of the table.
‘Yes. Just remember to rest – and eat well.’ Already thinking ahead to her next patient, Hazel wrote swiftly in Cynthia’s file.
‘I’m eating for England, don’t you worry.’ Clothes back on, she thanked Hazel and departed.
‘Next, please.’ Hazel popped her head around the screen and invited a new lady in. This meant there was extra paperwork to fill in before they got started – Barbara Baxter was the wife of Philip Baxter, John’s garage-owning boss. She was thirty-five years old and this was her first baby. She obviously took pride in her appearance – her shiny dark brown hair was carefully waved and pinned back from her forehead and she wore a navy blue dress with a pert yellow bow adorning the neckline. She was in early pregnancy – hardly showing as yet.
Hazel waited for her to take off her clothes and took her time with the newcomer, explaining in detail everything that would happen. ‘Everyone is nervous first time around,’ she reassured her as she noted down Barbara’s weight and height. ‘But don’t worry – you’ve come to the right place.’
‘I do worry, though,’ Barbara said. ‘I can’t help thinking of all the things that can go wrong, especially at my age.’
‘You’re through the first six weeks – that’s a good milestone for us to reach. If you keep on coming to clinic, I’ll make sure that everything is progressing as it should be.’
‘They said you were young to be doing this job and they were right.’ Submitting to her first examination, Barbara chatted nervously. ‘Does Dr Bell keep a close eye on what you do?’
Hazel tried not to mind what she interpreted as a slight and answered confidently. ‘He does. In fact, you’re still his patient. Both he and I will be involved nearer the time.’
‘Let’s hope it won’t turn out the way it did with poor Myra Moxon.’
Hazel’s heart sank as she made the connection between her new patient and John’s workplace.
‘I called in at the garage and saw John two days after it happened. He was like a ghost – there in body but not there, if you know what I mean. I’ve never seen anyone look so pale and miserable.’
Hazel swallowed hard and tried not to react. ‘Something like that is very rare,’ she explained. ‘It might not have happened if Myra had asked for help earlier.’
‘That’s as may be. At any rate, that’s why I’m here – to check everything is as it should be.’
‘And it is,’ Hazel assured her. Struck by what Cynthia had said about
teaching herself the basic facts of pregnancy, she recommended that Barbara go to the library and read up about it if she had time. ‘Only if you think it would help you, though.’
‘Ta, I will.’ Relieved that the examination was over, Barbara slipped her dress carefully over her coiffured head. ‘Philip has promised to drive me into town tomorrow to buy knitting wool for a matinée jacket. I can call in at the library at the same time.’
It was settled and Barbara left feeling happier than when she’d arrived. Hazel went on briskly to her next patient when there was a knock on the door and Irene came in with the tea trolley.
Then there was a break in proceedings and jovial cries of, ‘Come on, Irene, let’s see the littl’un.’ Irene protested that she couldn’t wake Grace up just for that. ‘Yes, you can. Go and fetch her.’ And so it went on until Irene went away and brought back a happy, gurgling infant swaddled in a soft white blanket. She sat with the baby in her arms amongst the mothers-to-be, glancing happily at Hazel, who hadn’t the heart to start clinic again until everyone had had their fill of Grace.
Dusk was falling before she picked up the baton again – another hour and a half of weighing, listening to heartbeats, inspection of varicose veins and talking through the advantages of breastfeeding over bottle before her last patient was seen and dispatched.
‘You look done in,’ David told her when she finally came downstairs. He too had just finished a busy surgery.
‘I am,’ Hazel admitted. She reached for her coat, picturing a quiet night in, soaking her feet in hot water and catching up with family news.
‘Can you spare a minute?’ He opened the door into his examination room and ushered her in. ‘I see your numbers are going up nicely,’ he began without preliminaries.
She nodded. ‘I was afraid they might not – not after Myra.’
‘I had every faith,’ he insisted. ‘And I know you’ve worked your socks off to regain lost ground.’ He stood with his stethoscope around his neck, looking intently at her. ‘How many patients did you manage to see this afternoon?’
‘Seven in total. Two more came along from Hadley on Cynthia Houghton’s say-so. The chances are they live too far out of town to have picked up the gossip.’
She glanced out at the receptionist, who was listening in as usual from behind her desk. ‘On top of that, Eleanor has two new names on our list for next Tuesday if I can fit them in.’
‘And all for three shillings a week.’ He smiled wryly, thrust his hands in his jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels. ‘What would you say if I put your money up to five shillings?’
‘For half a day’s work, I’d be more than happy. As long as giving me a rise doesn’t mean we have to start charging.’
‘It’s still a free service,’ he confirmed, ignoring Hazel’s offer to shake hands on the new arrangement. ‘Wait, I haven’t finished yet. What would you think to working here on a Thursday as well as a Tuesday?’
‘An extra clinic?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Are you sure?’
‘On a trial basis,’ he suggested cautiously. ‘Starting in January and going through to the end of February. That would give us a fair chance to see how it goes. What do you say?’
‘I say yes!’ This time she seized his hand and shook it warmly. She envisaged extra posters and more foot-slogging around the streets. She could ask the women who attended her Tuesday clinic to spread the word, too. This was already three ways that she could increase numbers, even before she’d put her thinking cap on. Besides, it seemed that the coven’s hold over local opinion was loosening at last.
‘I can make it pay off – I’m sure I can!’
She shook hands so enthusiastically that David laughed and took a step back. ‘I have faith in your ability to reach any goal you set yourself, Hazel Price.’
‘You do?’ For a moment she forgot herself and almost planted a kiss on his cheek. Excitement coursed through her like electricity. Her career was on the up, make no mistake. ‘Thank you!’ she beamed. Instead of kissing him, she turned and dashed out into Reception to glean Eleanor’s reaction.
‘So there’ll be no licking envelopes and changing typewriter ribbons for you, then?’ The receptionist cast a telling glance at David who hovered in the doorway to his room. ‘At this rate, she’ll be working full time before we know it.’
‘You don’t say,’ David replied, inwardly regretting the passing moment when he had wondered if Hazel might have been on the verge of kissing him.
Sharp-eyed Eleanor had picked up on it too. She was wearing her sentry look, guarding him on this occasion from the foolishness of falling in love with Hazel. Too late, as it happened. He sighed and unhooked his stethoscope from around his neck.
‘There are five letters for you to sign before you go home,’ Eleanor told him briskly.
‘Goodnight!’ Hazel’s rich voice faded as she made her way out of the building. She couldn’t wait to go home and tell her mother and father the good news, then her nana and Aunty Rose. ‘And thank you!’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Robert beamed at Hazel across the kitchen table. ‘By Jove!’ he said, almost speechless with delight. He held his knife and fork poised over his tea of Welsh rarebit.
‘I know! Can you believe it?’ Hazel’s smile went from ear to ear. ‘David thinks enough of me to offer me this extra work.’
‘And extra pay,’ Jinny observed.
‘There’s that as well.’ Too excited to eat, Hazel planned ahead. The pay rise would be more than enough to cover her rent once she and Gladys had settled down somewhere suitable.
Robert found his voice. ‘I knew it – the sky’s the limit for you, my girl.’
Hazel jumped up and skipped around the room, hugging first him and then her mother.
‘Steady on,’ Jinny grumbled as she submitted to the embrace. ‘It won’t all be plain sailing. You still have to keep your feet on the ground.’
‘Once – just once – tell me you’re pleased!’ Hazel demanded. She was like a kite, sailing so high that she could afford to risk a small tug of disapproval.
There was a long pause while Jinny pursed her lips and carefully placed her knife and fork on her empty plate. It was a big moment and she knew it.
Robert looked from one to the other, at the irrepressible joy on Hazel’s face and Jinny’s struggle to control her feelings. He willed his wife to give Hazel the praise that she deserved.
‘I am pleased,’ Jinny said with tears in her eyes. ‘But someone has to point out the pitfalls.’
Hazel crouched beside her and spoke gently. ‘I’m not daft, Mum. I know it’ll be hard work.’
Jinny gave a single nod. A slow tear trickled down her cheeks. ‘You’ve never been afraid of hard graft, I’ll give you that.’
‘Why are you sad?’
‘I’m not. I’m all right.’
‘Then why are you crying?’ Moved by Jinny’s show of emotion, Hazel lowered her voice to a soft whisper.
Jinny’s lip quivered as she took her daughter’s hand. ‘This is me being happy for you,’ she confessed. ‘And proud, too.’
‘Honestly?’ Hazel looked deep into Jinny’s eyes. In her mother she saw herself as she would have been without love and support throughout her childhood, without the backing she’d received to make something of herself. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed, clasping Jinny’s hand and squeezing it. ‘That means the world to me.’
The new harmony in the house carried Hazel through the next few days with a glow of happy expectation. There were talks with David and Eleanor about getting proper posters printed to advertise the new clinic times, post-natal visits to be made and two consecutive evenings spent in the town library extracting information from medical books for Hazel to use in writing leaflets that she intended to hand out at clinic.
‘Excellent idea,’ was David’s verdict when she made a special visit to the surgery to talk through her latest plan. It was Friday; the end of a long week for him of treating bunions, sore throat
s, psoriasis and bad backs. Then there were two cases of scarlet fever within one family on Overcliffe Road when David had had to call for the dreaded van to stretcher the two hapless victims, wrapped in the tell-tale red blankets, to the children’s isolation hospital – a move that upset him almost as much as it did the family involved. Now he had to meet and match Hazel’s enthusiasm. ‘A leaflet to advise pregnant women on what to eat.’
‘And what not to eat,’ Hazel pointed out, showing him her handwritten draft. ‘Plus, the need for exercise, but not too much. And the signs to watch out for if something is going wrong.’
‘Oedema,’ David agreed as he read her notes. ‘We know that’s the main symptom to look out for.’
In the privacy of David’s examination room, Hazel got into her stride. ‘Yes, but we have to keep it simple and concentrate on the up-side. This leaflet should be a guide on what to do for a healthy pregnancy: a list of good foods, the changes to expect in your body, and so forth.’
‘I agree.’
‘Shall I talk to the printer about how much it will cost? He’s already given me the price for the posters. Maybe we could get a reduction from him for doing the leaflets as well.’
‘It’s worth a try.’ David suspected that Hazel’s natural charm and enthusiasm could work wonders, even with a hard-headed local businessman. If they’re anything like me, he thought ruefully. Though he tried his best to keep his feelings in check, he found that every time Hazel walked into the building he was smitten all over again. Like now – she’d breezed in out of the damp, dark evening bringing what he could only describe as a bright light with her. She shone with energy – it came off her creamy skin and her gleaming fair hair and glowed in her dark blue eyes.
‘It’s as good as done,’ she promised before moving on to ask about Irene and her baby.
‘Both well,’ he reported. ‘Irene is a doting mother.’
‘But a so-so housekeeper, by all accounts.’
‘Ah, Eleanor’s been tittle-tattling,’ he guessed as the conversation wound down and Hazel got ready to leave. ‘What are you up to later? Will I see you at the jazz club?’