Medic on Approval

by Laura MacDonald

  For one moment Lindsay was tempted to tell the woman it was none of her business where she came from, but she swallowed the retort, putting the woman’s apparent nosiness down to natural curiosity. There couldn’t be many people, apart from tourists, who arrived in the village, looking for the local doctor. ‘I’m from London,’ she replied.

  After she’d spoken she was aware of some change in the atmosphere amongst those around the counter. It was, however, so slight as to be almost imperceptible, and she found herself wondering if she’d imagined it.

  ‘Oh, from London, are you?’ The woman made it sound as if London were on the other side of the world. ‘So what would you be wanting with Dr Llewellyn, then?’

  She was about to tell the woman that it really wasn’t anyone’s business but her own, but before she could do so the farmer pushed himself away from the counter, said something in Welsh to the couple behind the counter and sauntered down the shop to the door.

  Lindsay watched him go, aware that what he’d said had caused some reaction from the others. Not exactly amusement—that would be hard to imagine from so dour a group—but a general lightening of the atmosphere which, she suspected, was at her expense.

  Then, to her relief, the man behind the counter began giving her the directions she needed.

  Moments later she left the shop and began to walk back over the bridge. By this time it was early evening. The shadows were beginning to lengthen and a light mist was forming around the mountains behind the village. On the far side of the bridge was a wooden seat, and on a sudden impulse Lindsay decided to phone her father. No doubt he would be fretting and wondering if she’d arrived safely. Sitting down, she took her mobile phone from her bag and dialled her father’s number. He answered the phone almost immediately, confirming her suspicions.

  ‘Where are you, Lindsay?’ he asked anxiously, after they’d greeted each other. ‘Have you got there yet?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I’m ringing for. I’m in the village and I’m on my mobile.’

  ‘Doesn’t Henry have a phone at the house? I know he lives in the wilds but isn’t that rather taking things to the extreme?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She laughed. ‘I haven’t got to the house yet. I couldn’t find it so I went into the village shop to ask the way. I think the locals thought I was something from outer space the way they stared at me—but at least I now know where Henry’s house is. I just thought I’d ring you first in case you were sitting there, worrying.’

  ‘Well, no, not really…’

  ‘Come on, Daddy, you know that’s not true.’

  ‘Oh, well, all right, then, I suppose I was getting a bit concerned. But you’re there now.’

  ‘I’ll ring you again, probably tomorrow.’

  They said goodbye and Lindsay put her phone back into her bag, stood up and walked back to her car. Two small boys were sitting on the wall, staring admiringly at the car. Lindsay smiled at them and operated the remote control that activated the locks.

  ‘That your car?’ asked one of the boys. He had such an accent that Lindsay guessed at what he’d said rather than understood it.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ She nodded and smiled again.

  ‘It’s dead cool,’ said the other boy. ‘Like the colour, too. Does it go fast?’

  ‘Fast enough,’ Lindsay replied as she slipped into the driving seat. Still the object of the boys’ open admiration, she waved a hand and drove away.

  According to the man in the shop, Dr Llewellyn’s house was outside the village. The practice was behind the chapel, but it would be closed now, she’d been informed, and Dr Llewellyn would be at home. Following the directions, she drove back through the village the way she’d come then took a left turn onto a fairly narrow road.

  Lindsay had only travelled a short distance when she saw that there was an obstruction blocking the road ahead. With a muttered exclamation she slowed down and stopped.

  There was a large van immediately ahead of her which all but blocked the road, but the problem seemed to be with something that was beyond the van, something outside Lindsay’s vision.

  She sat for a few moments, tapping the steering-wheel impatiently with her hands. Now she was so close to her destination all she really wanted to do was to get there, have a bath, a meal and a rest. Since she’d stopped in the village her weariness seemed to have caught up with her.

  After five minutes or so, when there seemed to be no sign of the problem, whatever it was, resolving itself, Lindsay switched off the engine and climbed out of her car. There was nothing else on the road behind her so she walked forward to the van. It was only then that she realised that the driver wasn’t in his cab. Peering round the van, Lindsay could now see that there had, in fact, been an accident a little further up the road. A caravan was on its side, half on the grass verge and half on the road, and a little group of people was clustered around someone lying on the ground.

  Lindsay started forward, her first instinct to see if she could help, at the same time silently cursing herself for sitting in her car, wasting what could turn out to be valuable time. A young man in blue overalls, presumably the driver of the van, was running towards her.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Caravan tried to take the corner too fast—he came out of it.’

  ‘How many are hurt?’

  ‘Two. The old chap has hit his head and his wife has hurt her arm.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can help,’ said Lindsay.

  ‘Oh, it’s OK,’ the van driver replied. ‘Ambulance is on its way—I need to move the van so it can get through.’

  ‘Even so, some first aid might help.’ Not waiting to hear any more, Lindsay darted forward. She was vaguely aware that there were other vehicles on the road beyond the caravan but she didn’t take too much notice of what they were, her main concern being for the person lying on the ground.

  ‘Let me through,’ she said to the people standing around. ‘Please, stand back there and let me through. I’m a doctor.’

  The people did move at that, albeit reluctantly, Lindsay thought, and as they parted she saw that a woman was sitting on the grass verge, holding her arm, and that the person lying on the ground was an elderly man. Crouching beside him was another man, a man whose waxed jacket and jeans looked uncomfortably familiar. As Lindsay stopped he looked up at her over his shoulder.

  Her heart sank as she recognised him. There was no mistaking the owner of that blue-eyed stare. It was the surly farmer who had been in the village shop. ‘Oh,’ she said abruptly, ‘it’s you.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘YES,’ he said, ‘it’s me.’

  ‘Can I be of any help?’ Lindsay asked, coolly and professionally, she hoped.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He stood up. ‘I think everything is under control, I doubt if anyone can do any more before the ambulance gets here.’

  ‘I might be able to.’ Lindsay crouched down beside the man, who by now was sitting up and holding his head.

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Well, I am a doctor,’ Lindsay said tightly, stung by the faint sarcasm in his voice.

  ‘Is that so? Well, in that case, maybe there is something more you can do. Be my guest.’ He gestured towards the man on the ground then to the woman sitting on the grass verge.

  Ignoring him, Lindsay turned her attentions to the man, who was moaning softly and shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘Do you have any injuries anywhere?’ she asked, allowing her professional gaze to wander over him. He didn’t answer, just shook his head, but there didn’t appear to be any sign of bleeding so Lindsay stood up again and hurried across to the woman.

  ‘Is he all right?’ the woman asked, peering anxiously across at her husband.

  ‘He appears to be,’ Lindsay replied. ‘Probably just some concussion. What about you?’

  ‘Just my arm really,’ the woman replied, wincing with pain. At that point Lindsay noticed that the woman’s wrist was supported inside a scarf
which she wore knotted around her neck. ‘The man over there said it was broken,’ said the woman. ‘He put it like this. Said to keep it like this until I get to the hospital.’

  ‘Did he, now?’ Lindsay suddenly felt annoyed, but before she could say anything further there came the sound of a siren in the distance. ‘Sounds like the ambulance now,’ she said, gently touching the woman’s shoulder.

  ‘Miss!’ There came a shout and Lindsay looked up sharply. The van driver was running down the road, waving his arms. ‘The ambulance can’t get through. Could you move your car, please?’

  Lindsay straightened up. ‘Of course,’ she muttered.

  ‘Looks like you can be of some use after all,’ said the farmer as she hurried past him.

  As she reversed her car into a lay-by, Lindsay found she was quietly fuming. There had been something about the man she hadn’t liked when they’d met in the village shop, and now she liked him even less. Not simply because he’d known enough to administer first aid—after all, she should have been glad of that—but because of his attitude towards her, especially when he’d found out she was a doctor.

  She could see little of what was going on, stuck in the lay-by behind the van, but the arrival of the ambulance was followed by a police Range Rover. While the two patients were taken away to hospital, the police, assisted once more by the farmer in his Land Rover, whom everyone seemed to know, proceeded to move the caravan so that the road was clear once more. At last Lindsay was able to follow the van, and as she passed the group of men standing around the vehicles the farmer nodded to her in acknowledgement.

  Somehow Lindsay managed a very cool little nod of her own head in response and then, to her utmost relief, she was finally away, leaving the scene of the incident behind her. A single glance in her driving mirror revealed the farmer, his dogs beside him as he stood in the road, watching her drive away.

  Insufferable man, she thought. Hopefully I won’t need to see too much of him during my stay in Tregadfan.

  Henry Llewellyn’s house turned out to be surprisingly close to the scene of the accident, little more than a mile on down the road. Built of stone under a slate roof, it was almost entirely obscured from view by high banks of purple rhododendrons, but as Lindsay drew up before it on the gravel drive it seemed to glow in welcome as it basked in the last of the day’s sunshine.

  Almost before Lindsay was out of the car the front door was flung wide and a couple of springer spaniels had hurtled forth and were sniffing at her heels.

  ‘Lindsay! How lovely to see you again!’ And Henry Llewellyn was there, his arms open wide to greet her, looking exactly as she remembered him from the last time she’d seen him all those years ago when she’d been a student and he’d come to London with his wife, Megan, to visit them.

  ‘Henry! How are you? You haven’t changed a bit!’

  ‘The hair and beard’s a bit greyer,’ he said with a laugh, ‘and I dare say there’s a bit more midriff than there used to be.’

  ‘Well, you don’t look any different to me,’ said Lindsay firmly, returning his embrace before turning to open the boot of her car.

  ‘You’ve changed, though,’ he said, standing back. ‘Let me look at you. Yes, you were little more than a child before—now I see a beautiful, self-assured young woman. Tell me,’ he went on, taking her bags from her as she lifted them from the boot, ‘did you have a good journey?’

  ‘Yes, pretty good.’ She nodded. ‘But it took longer than I thought.’

  ‘You must be tired,’ he said over his shoulder as, with the spaniels at his heels, he led the way into the house.

  ‘Yes, I guess I am.’ She paused, and as he put her bags down in the hall she said, ‘How’s Megan?’

  ‘She’s…er…resting,’ Henry replied, and Lindsay noticed that as he spoke his gaze flickered to the stairs behind her. This didn’t sound like Megan, who Lindsay’s father had often described as the most energetic woman he knew, and she frowned. Before she could enquire further, however, Henry led the way from the hall into the kitchen. ‘Come and have a cup of tea before I show you to your room,’ he said. ‘Then we can catch up with all the news.’

  The kitchen was warm and cosy with evidence of Megan’s touch everywhere, from the bunches of dried flowers and herbs hanging from the beam across the Aga to the brightly coloured cushions tied to the seats of the wheel-backed chairs around the central table. Lindsay sat down and watched Henry as he brewed the tea. He enquired after her father and asked if he and Romilly had any plans to marry.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Lindsay shook her head. ‘They both seem happy with the relationship the way it is. Romilly is a very independent lady and, of course, has her own business.’

  ‘Interior design, isn’t it?’ asked Henry as he took two mugs down from a cupboard. When Lindsay nodded in response, he went on, ‘Megan admires her work.’

  ‘Is Megan working at the moment? Any commissions?’ Megan was an artist and ran her own arts and crafts centre in Tregadfan.

  When Henry didn’t immediately answer, instead standing before the Aga with his back to her, she threw him a curious glance. ‘Megan is all right, isn’t she, Henry?’ she asked tentatively at last.

  He took a long time to answer but at last he turned. Carrying the two mugs of tea to the table, he passed one to Lindsay then with a sigh set his own down and sat opposite her. ‘No, Lindsay,’ he said at last, ‘I’m afraid she isn’t all right.’

  ‘Oh, Henry.’ She stared at him in concern. ‘What is it? Whatever is the matter?’

  ‘We’re not absolutely sure yet. She’s not at all well, but no one is really certain exactly what’s wrong. She’s had all the usual tests and she’s had a scan, which mercifully was negative—but as yet nothing else is conclusive.’

  ‘Do you have any theories?’ Lindsay took a sip of tea then set her mug down. It was quiet in the kitchen—even the dogs had settled down in their baskets in front of the Aga and were snoozing with their heads on their paws.

  He considered for a long moment then said slowly, ‘She had a bout of flu before Christmas—it hit her especially hard and I don’t think she entirely recovered from it. She’s tired all the time—and I don’t mean simply weary, I mean tired—bone tired, so much so that she wants to sleep most of the time. When she’s awake she has constant pain in her joints and muscles. She’s tested negative for multiple sclerosis and for rheumatoid arthritis…but…’ He trailed off, shaking his head.

  ‘You’re thinking ME?’ asked Lindsay, reading Henry’s thoughts.

  ‘I’m not sure what else to think,’ he replied. ‘Everything points to that but it’s so frustrating, not knowing for sure. All I do know is that Megan is but a pale shadow of the woman she was.’

  ‘It must be very difficult.’

  ‘Let’s just say it hasn’t exactly been easy.’

  ‘What about the family? Are they able to help?’

  ‘Well obviously they’ve been a great support but they’re all a bit too far away to be of any practical help. I have a lady who comes in each day to do the housework…’ He looked around him then gave a helpless little shrug.

  ‘And now you’ve got me to contend with as well. Honestly, Henry, I would have thought the last thing you need is a trainee at the present time. Why ever didn’t you tell my father when he contacted you that it simply wasn’t convenient to have me here at the moment?’

  ‘Oh, Lindsay…’ Henry Llewellyn wearily ran a hand through his hair. ‘That’s the last thing I would have wanted to do. Your dad and I go back a long way…’

  ‘I know, Henry. I know,’ said Lindsay gently, ‘but it sounds as if you’ve more than enough to contend with at the moment without the added responsibility of a trainee and a house guest into the bargain. I really don’t think I should stay…’ She trailed off uncertainly.

  ‘Well, actually, there is an alternative.’ Henry threw her an uncertain glance. ‘But I wasn’t certain how you would take to the idea.’

&nbs
p; ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well, I tentatively put the idea to my partner that he could take over as your trainer—at least while Megan is feeling the way she is. Maybe if in a little while she beats this thing…’ Henry shrugged but his expression showed his doubt.

  ‘And what did your partner say?’

  ‘Well, he’ll help out. Of course he will. He’s a decent sort of a fellow. Bit of a loner…but nice enough when you get to know him.’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Lindsay curiously. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard about your present partner. I only heard Dad talk about old Dr Meredith before he died.’ She tried to sound bright, interested even, but inwardly her heart had sunk. One of the reasons for coming all this way to North Wales was because Henry Llewellyn—a man she’d admired since her childhood—was to have been her trainer.

  ‘This one is a young fellow by the name of Aidan Lennox. He’s been with me for three years now and he’s very good. He’s coming in later this evening to meet you.’

  ‘Is there anywhere else I could stay, Henry?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Lindsay. Megan really wouldn’t want that.’

  ‘From what you’ve told me, Megan really isn’t in any condition to have the worry of a house guest at the moment. Surely there must be somewhere else. Maybe I could rent somewhere…’

  ‘That would be easier said than done, what with the tourist season coming up.’

  ‘I thought how quiet it seemed when I was in the village.’

  ‘You just wait until the bank holiday weekend.’

  ‘There must be somewhere…’

  ‘Well, I suppose there’s the flat over the surgery,’ said Henry doubtfully. ‘Aidan stayed there when he first came here before he got his own place. It’s empty now.’

  ‘But won’t you want to be renting that out during the season?’

  ‘No, we never do that. It wouldn’t do to have strangers living in such close proximity to the surgery. The flat is only there because it was part of the house that we bought for the surgery.’