The Bachelor Doctor

by Judy Campbell

  Ursula shrugged. ‘There are plenty of people painting in this area. What’s the point of flooding the market with yet another version of the same place?’

  ‘But these are so different, Ursula—a very individual interpretation. Have you ever let anyone but your brother see them?’

  ‘No,’ said Ursula shortly. ‘I’m certainly not going to start toting them round either.’ She looked at Cara with her funny little half-smile. ‘Jake tells me you’re looking for a new job—aren’t things working out between you, then?’

  How much had Jake told her? Cara bit her lip, uncertain how to reply. ‘I might do locum work,’ she said vaguely, ‘then I could choose the hours I work and have more time for Dan.’

  ‘I see—but you’d stay in the area?’

  ‘At the moment I wouldn’t leave my father—and anyway I love it round here. But if I can’t find locum work round here I may have to move away to a larger town.’ Then she sighed. ‘This has always been my real home—where I’d really want to spend the rest of my life.’

  She smiled to herself, hearing an irony in her own words. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so easy to re-invent her life up here after all—not with Jake Donahue in the same area!

  They heard a shout from the beach, and could see Dan waving at them impatiently. ‘Come on, Mummy,’ he yelled. ‘Help me fly my kite!’

  Ursula looked at Cara. ‘Perhaps you’d better go—your little boy needs you.’

  Cara walked off towards Dan, an idea forming in her head. She was no artist but she appreciated art, and she knew that the work she’d just seen was remarkable—and probably very marketable. There was something very lonely and almost prickly about Ursula Donahue—probably not helped by her injuries and the terrible way they’d occurred. Surely it would boost her confidence if she were to realise just how good her paintings were?

  A little smile lifted Cara’s lips. It would be good to do something positive for a talented, shy person like Ursula, even if her brother was a rat!

  She picked up the kite and held it aloft. ‘Go on, Dan,’ she cried. ‘Run as fast as you can along the beach and see how high we can make this kite go!’

  A few days later, Cara found the time to visit Peter Dunne who lived at the far end of the village in a small cottage with a breathtaking garden in front of it. Cara guessed that in the summer it would be filled with a profusion of foxgloves, campanula, daisies and other herbaceous plants. A rose twined its way round the door—no doubt the one that had caused his poisoned finger a few weeks ago!

  Cara rang the bell, wondering just what Peter’s reaction would be when she asked him to help her carry out the idea she’d had when she’d met Ursula by the beach.

  He let her in with a cry of welcome. ‘Come for your picture, then? I’ve reframed it as you asked, and I think it would look great in the drawing room of your father’s house. Does he know about it yet?’

  ‘No, it’s a big secret for his birthday. I know he’ll be absolutely thrilled.’

  Peter held out his hand for her to see. ‘Look at that! The poison’s all gone, thanks to you, and I’m back to painting and gardening again.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear that.’ Cara smiled. ‘But the main reason I’m here is to ask a favour. Do you know Ursula Donahue?’

  ‘Aye, Dr Donahue’s sister? I know who you mean, but I can’t say I’ve spoken to her much—keeps herself to herself, I believe.’

  Cara leaned forward eagerly on the chair she was sitting on. ‘Do you think you’d be able to help me if I said I wanted to persuade her to have an exhibition of her paintings?’

  Peter nodded. ‘Certainly, if I could. I once called round at their house to take a picture round to Jake and I remember seeing one of hers there—it was a remarkable painting done in a very individualistic style.’

  ‘Exactly! I have a feeling she doesn’t have a clue how talented she really is, and I think it would be wonderful for her to show her work. Give her a separate identity to being merely “the doctor’s sister”. Jake once told me that you liked to encourage local artists, so what do you think?’

  ‘I’d certainly love to persuade her—but how could we go about it? She’d not like to push herself forward or put herself in the public eye.’

  ‘Well, it could all go pear-shaped, but St Cuthbert’s Hospital has a transplant unit that’s second to none, and I know they’re trying to raise money for vital new diagnostic equipment. Since my father’s had his bypass he’s been very keen to get something off the ground to help, and I wondered if we could have an art exhibition at the hospital. If we could coax Ursula to contribute, it would be great.’

  ‘Yes, she might feel more inclined to go public, as it were, if it was for a good cause. In fact, I think quite a few artists would be prepared to do something like that—give a proportion of their sales for the equipment.’

  Cara looked pleadingly at Peter. ‘Could you explain it to Jake? Perhaps he could persuade Ursula.’

  ‘With pleasure, lass. But wouldn’t it be easier for you to do that? After all, you work with the man!’

  ‘You’re the one who knows how to set these things up—I wouldn’t have a clue where to start,’ Cara said quickly. ‘Anyway, you’re the expert—he’d respect what you had to say! I have to admit, I don’t want to become too involved—I’d rather Jake thought the idea came from you, if that’s OK.’

  Peter laughed. ‘I’ll do my best!’

  As she drove away, Cara felt a frisson of pleasure—it might make all the difference to Ursula if she could achieve something on her own without being in the shadow of her brother. She reflected that it was probably very hard to be the sister of someone who was so ambitious—no wonder the woman was shy. It should be quite possible for the thing to be organised without her, Cara, having anything much to do with the arrangements. In that way she reflected with satisfaction, she wouldn’t have to come into contact with Jake at all! She flicked a glance at her watch—just one more visit before she went home. She had promised to see an eighty-five-year-old patient who had been seen by the community nurse that morning. Nellie Parsons was a frail old lady and Cara had become very fond of her in the past few weeks. She was an endearing and cheery lady, but there was evidence of abdominal bleeding and Cara had arranged for Nellie’s younger sister to be at the house when she called.

  Beattie, the sister, met her at the door, her mouth pursed disapprovingly. ‘I hate letting you into a tip like this house, Doctor. I don’t think Nellie’s ever tidied up or thrown anything away since the war—it needs a darn good dust!’

  A thin voice piped up from the next door room. ‘I can hear you, Beattie—you’re criticising my housekeeping, aren’t you? You’re a pernickity old witch! And you know Dr Mackenzie comes every week, so she’s used to it!’

  Cara gave an inward giggle as she picked her way over piles of magazines and cardboard boxes that covered the floor. The two sisters were always bickering, but she was sure they were devoted to each other really.

  ‘Hello, Nellie,’ she said cheerily. ‘I’ve just come to check up on you. I believe you’ve been in a bit of pain, had some bowel problems—is that right?’ She looked at her mock-sternly. ‘Have you been having lots to drink like I told you to?’

  ‘She has not, Doctor,’ said Beattie weightily. ‘She’s a very stubborn woman—you told her to drink eight glasses of water a day—unless it’s got whisky in it, she won’t touch it!’

  ‘Och—that’s a terrible lie!’ said Nellie, then both sisters started chuckling and Cara joined in.

  ‘I don’t know that I would recommend quite that much whisky,’ she teased. ‘Let me just take your blood pressure and then I’ll take some blood for tests. We can find out a lot from that—for example, if you’re anaemic or dehydrated.’

  Nellie held her arm out for Cara to take her blood pressure. ‘And how’s your dear old dad?’ she wheezed as Cara pushed back the sleeve on the old lady’s arm. ‘I miss seeing him so much. He knew my Bert so well—they used
to go out the back and have a pipe together, you know!’ She gave Cara a sweet smile. ‘Not that I don’t enjoy you coming, my dear, or that gorgeous Dr Donahue. I could eat him for breakfast!’

  Cara unwound the cuff of the sphygmomanometer very carefully. ‘Could you now?’ she said lightly. ‘Be careful—he’s single, you know!’

  Both ladies gave snorts of laughter, and Beattie said knowingly, ‘Oh, there’d be a fair number of lassies willing to have him, but if he does go out with anyone he keeps it well hidden! Too much on his plate with that sister of his, I’d say!’

  Cara made some notes of Nellie’s blood pressure. ‘So he’s never had a girlfriend, then?’ she said casually, still looking down at her pad as she wrote. ‘I heard from somewhere that he had loads of girlfriends but never stayed the course with them.’

  ‘If I got hold of him, he wouldn’t get away so easily. He’s got everything, that man—looks, lovely personality, steady as a rock!’ said Nellie.

  ‘A pity you’re old enough to be his great grandmother, then,’ commented her sister tartly, but with a wink at Cara.

  Cara smiled a little bleakly. How come Jake Donahue kept getting such a good press from everyone who knew him? They all seemed to love him, from her own son of three to Nellie Parsons at eighty-five! Why was it only her that found him a complete rat? A tremor of loss went through her. She’d expected too much. She packed up her equipment and patted Nellie on her arm.

  ‘The community nurse will be in tomorrow, Nellie, to see how you are. We’ll have the results of the tests soon. Until then, plenty to drink, and I’ve given you a repeat prescription for the pain of your arthritis.’

  She waved to the two old ladies at the window as she got into the car. They were lucky they had each other, even if they didn’t live together. She looked at her watch. It was nearly five-thirty, time to pick Dan up. Her period pain seemed to have died away, and because she hadn’t felt like eating much for lunch with the young pharmaceutical representative, she was starving now. She’d make up for it tonight with Annie’s lovely rich hotpot!

  CHAPTER TEN

  IN NORMAL circumstances, if she hadn’t had this niggling pain in her lower abdomen that seemed to be getting more intense every minute, Cara would have felt very sympathetic for the immaculately neat Mrs Hunter. At the moment she was finding it hard to concentrate on the worried mother’s distress.

  ‘Just what are you saying doctor?’ squeaked Mrs Hunter. ‘I just cannot believe that Rebecca could have anything as…as filthy as impetigo! I thought she’d caught something like chickenpox with all these little blisters on her hairline.’

  Rebecca stared at Cara in alarm behind round wire-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Will I have to go to hospital?’ she said in a frightened voice, one hand scratching her head.

  Cara forced her mind away from the annoying pain, and smiled reassuringly. ‘Not at all—I can give you some medicine for it, so don’t worry.’

  ‘It’s that school!’ fumed Mrs Hunter, outrage expressed in every fibre of her body. ‘There are some very undesirable types there—probably don’t ever wash! If there’s one thing I insist on with Rebecca, it cleanliness!’

  ‘Come here, Rebecca,’ said Cara gently. ‘Just let me look at your scalp.’

  Mrs Hunter threw her eyes to heaven in horror. ‘Don’t tell me it’s there as well!’

  Cara took a fine comb from her desk drawer and drew it through Rebecca’s long hair. ‘Aha!’ she said with satisfaction. ‘I’ve think I’ve found a nit, and where there’s a nit, there’s been lice! I’m sure that’s what’s caused poor Rebecca’s skin infection.’

  ‘Nits? For heaven’s sake!’ Mrs Hunter looked mournfully at her daughter’s thick hair. ‘Will I have to cut her hair off short? That’s what we did in my day. Not,’ she added hastily, ‘that we ever had them in my family.’

  ‘I assure you—this is nothing to do with your daughter not being clean, and you don’t need to cut her hair,’ said Cara patiently. ‘The fact that Rebecca has head lice is nothing to do with dirt at all. I can see for myself that her hair is gleaming. The fact is, lice are terrible pests—they don’t mind if hair is clean or dirty. Probably the whole class has got them at school. Unfortunately the intense itching leads to scratching—and a bacterial infection has obviously got into the little wounds. It’s really nothing to be ashamed about.’

  Mrs Hunter drew herself up in chair. ‘It’s disgusting!’ she declared roundly. ‘I shall certainly keep this to myself!’

  Cara sighed. The nagging pain seemed to be coming on again more intensely. She needed to get the consultation over as soon as she decently could.

  ‘You can keep them at bay by combing through the hair when it’s wet. Your next step is to go to the pharmacist and he’ll give you some lotion to put on the hair—Ooh!’

  She gave a little gasp as the infuriating pain seemed to increase, and Mrs Hunter looked at her sharply.

  ‘Something the matter, doctor?’

  Cara clenched her teeth. ‘No…nothing, it’s all right. As I said, just go to the chemist in Ballranoch….’

  Mrs Hunter pursed her lips. ‘There’s no way I’m letting the chemist know we’ve got lice or impetigo in the family—he only lives next door! I’ll have to go all the way to the next town to get the lotion!’

  She stood up and looked resentfully at Cara as if she had somehow contributed to the lice problem. ‘Thank you anyway, Doctor. Come on, Rebecca. We’d better go and get rid of this…this infestation as soon as possible!’

  She swept out, followed by her gloomy-looking daughter, and Cara heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps she’d have time to take some painkillers before the meeting that was going to take place in her room in a few minutes.

  She sat very still for a second, willing the pain to go away, then a gut-wrenching spasm slammed into her as if she’d been kicked in the stomach and a band of perspiration broke out on her forehead. What on earth was the matter with her? Cara took a sip of water from the glass on her desk. Soon Jake, Sheena, the physiotherapist and the practice manager were coming to her room to discuss the budget for the next six months and the priorities of the practice that had to be addressed. She closed her eyes—she just couldn’t face it!

  She clutched her stomach again as agonising stabs of pain started to slam through her and waves of nausea gripped her stomach. Groggily she got up from her chair and then fell on the floor, curling up in agony, the room fading in and out of her sight.

  ‘What do you think, Ursula? Won’t you do it to help the heart unit? I know you keep your paintings very much to yourself, but this exhibition would do so much to raise money.’

  Jake paused for a second to watch his sister’s reaction to the suggestion that she should show some of her paintings. Her face was turned towards him and he felt a stab of sympathy for her, as he had on so many occasions when he saw the terrible scarring she’d suffered on his behalf.

  She shook her head doubtfully. ‘Oh…I don’t know. I don’t fancy having to mix with hordes of people. Who’s organising this anyway?’

  ‘Apparently it’s Peter Dunne—you’ve met him before. As you know, he’s an artist, too, and he’s working very hard to set it up, but he’s worried they won’t have enough exhibitors.’

  ‘Perhaps if I didn’t actually have to be there,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I suppose if it’s in such a good cause and they’re really short of pictures, I don’t mind.’

  Jake beamed. It had been a long time since Ursula had agreed to anything as outgoing as putting her paintings on show. It might give her a new interest, choosing which pictures to exhibit and how she wanted them displayed.

  ‘That’s wonderful, sis!’ he exclaimed. ‘Don’t worry—I’ll do all the setting up if you tell me what paintings you’re offering.’

  ‘All right…I might choose that one I was doing the other day of the sea with the mountains behind.’ Ursula flicked her hair back from her eyes. ‘That was when I saw that Cara woman at th
e beach with her little boy. I must say, he’s got quite a personality,’ she said with a slight smile. ‘He blurted things out in a very frank manner—like you when you were a little boy!’

  ‘He’s not bad, is he? His grandfather’s a new man since Dan came into his life.’

  His sister raised her eyebrows. ‘Then he’s going to be very upset when he hears that Cara’s thinking she might not stay in the area for long.’

  Jake put down the coffee-cup he’d been holding, and looked up sharply. ‘What? You mean she’s moving quite soon?’

  ‘If she can’t get the work she wants, that was the impression she gave. When her father’s stronger, she said.’

  Jake stood up abruptly, looking at the ground for a second, his mouth grim. Then he looked up at her with a tight smile. ‘I’d better get back—I’ve got a practice meeting in a few minutes. I’ll speak to Peter about your pictures—he’ll be really pleased.’

  A myriad of emotions pounded through Jake’s head as he drove down the hill, knuckles white on the steering-wheel. He couldn’t believe that it had come to this, that Cara would actually move away from the area! Somehow, since seeing Chris, it had made him think rather hard about his life, and how he was letting it slip away. OK, he owed his sister, but surely he deserved a little happiness, too?

  Savagely, Jake wrenched the car round the sharp bend at the bottom of the hill and squealed into the surgery road. Cara thought he was playing her along, that he was too ambitious for a long-term relationship and that she and Dan would hold him back. It wasn’t true, but that’s what it seemed to her.

  He had held back for a variety of reasons, but that wasn’t one of them. He loved his job, he loved the area. His dream had been to settle there and one day have a wife and family, and after all this time Cara had come into his life. Like a fool, he’d let his sense of responsibility towards Ursula hold him back because he’d thought there was no way he could make the commitment to Cara that she deserved. And now she was thinking of moving away. He parked the car and jumped out, slamming the door angrily.