Brackenbeck

by Margaret Dickinson

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m wrong, I see,’ she said. ‘And besides, I no longer take an active part in suffragism. I can’t risk getting involved, maybe arrested even, now I bear the title “ doctor”.’

  ‘No, but on the other hand, you’re helping their cause all the more by meeting that very challenge of becoming a doctor,’ Anthony said.

  He shook his head slowly and sighed.

  ‘It’ll be hard, very hard, to overcome all the opposition you’re going to meet.’

  ‘I know,’ she said simply, ‘and it’ll start right here at tomorrow morning’s surgery.’

  ‘I fear it will,’ was Anthony’s only reply – the only possible reply.

  Katharine found her bedroom was depressingly cold and sparsely furnished. She had known worse, but the whole house needed the cheerful touch of a woman’s work – with love and care behind it, not just as an onerous duty as no doubt Mrs. Rigby looked upon her work.

  Everything was clean and neat but dull and uninteresting. Like the rest of the house the woodwork was brown. The bed, with an iron bedstead, had a lumpy mattress covered with sheets, two thin blankets and a patchwork quilt.

  The small window overlooked the back of the house and in the darkness Katharine could see the black shapes of the trees growing close to the house and hear the wind moaning softly in the branches.

  Katharine undressed quickly and slid, shivering, beneath the sheets. She watched the moon, at first hidden by scudding clouds, then brilliant, silhouetting the branches of the trees outside her window as they swayed in the wind.

  She had thought she would find sleep impossible, but to her surprise she slept heavily after her long journey northwards from London.

  The following morning Katharine was awakened by Jane tapping on the door bringing with her all the necessary equipment for her to take a morning bath.

  ‘Mrs. Rigby said you’d be sure to want a bath ev’ry morning, miss.’

  And without waiting for a reply the girl spread a huge bathmat on the floor and heaved a hip-bath on to it. The bath was varnished on the outside to a mud-colour and the inside was cream enamel, badly chipped, Katharine noticed. The girl arranged around the bath a large towel and smaller face towel, the soap dish, sponge bowl and large jug of cold water, all matching earthenware decorated with huge blue cornflowers on a white background.

  She disappeared, re-appearing some minutes later with a huge can of near-boiling water.

  ‘’Tis ready, miss,’ Jane said and disappeared again.

  Katharine bathed quickly, having poured in too much cold water to enjoy it.

  As she dressed, shivering, Katharine thought ruefully that in enlightened circles the bedroom fire was supposed to be lit before a lady took her morning bath. Here, no doubt, it was felt to be unnecessary, for the women in this dale would be healthy, hardy creatures, not expecting, nor receiving, any such indulgence.

  Later, having breakfasted with Anthony and received his instructions, Katharine found her way to the west side of the house which was reserved for the doctor’s surgery. A side entrance between the waiting room and the doctor’s room afforded complete isolation from the doctor’s private residence.

  Katharine familiarised herself with Anthony’s instruments before the opening of the surgery and was amused, but delighted, to find that he possessed a quantity of modern equipment. She smiled. Certainly the frugality practised in Anthony’s domestic affairs was not repeated in his surgery.

  At nine o’clock exactly, Katharine rang the bell to summon the first patient and waited. And she waited.

  No doubt the patients had not yet arrived.

  She walked about the room, reading the books in Anthony’s bookcase, touching the bottles in the cabinet and finally coming to stand before the mirror over the fireplace. She looked at herself and noticed that her eyes were wide and her cheeks a little paler than their usual healthy olive colour. Her auburn hair was smoothed back from her face into a coil at the nape of her neck. Restlessly, she turned away and sat down at the desk again. She picked up a pen and twisted it through her fingers, her eyes on the door, her ears straining for the sounds of the arrival of a patient.

  Suddenly, the loneliness engulfed her. She felt almost foolish sitting there wishing for some sick person to come through the door in need of her care and attention, wanting her.

  ‘This is foolish nonsense,’ she told herself springing up and going to the door. Making sure that there was no one in the waiting-room, she left the surgery and went through the house to the drawing-room.

  Anthony was seated again in his armchair, reading the morning paper.

  ‘Your patients seem in remarkably good health, Dr. Stafford. Not one seems to require my attention.’

  Anthony looked at her quizzically over the top of his newspaper. He raised his shaggy eyebrows philosophically.

  ‘It’s sometimes like that. Most of them are too busy to be ill round here.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Katharine said sharply, pacing the floor, ‘and you know it. You’re trying to console me.’

  ‘My dear Kate, give them time. It’s only half past nine. You’ve another half an hour before surgery’s officially over – and then they’ll still roll up.’

  ‘Well if they don’t come, I can’t very well go out into the streets looking for patients, can I?’

  ‘Precisely, Kate,’ Anthony grinned.

  ‘Oh, you’re impossible,’ Katharine said, but she had to laugh.

  Back in the surgery she found a wizened old man in the waiting-room.

  ‘Would you come this way, please,’ she bade him.

  He looked at her strangely but followed her. He stood uncertainly in the doorway of the doctor’s room whilst Katharine seated herself at the desk.

  ‘Please sit down.’

  The old man’s shrewd eyes darted about the room coming to rest on her with a belligerent glare.

  ‘Where’s t’doctor?’

  ‘I’m a doctor.’

  ‘I want Dr. Stafford.’

  ‘Doctor Stafford has sprained his ankle badly and cannot walk. I am taking over his practice for a short while.’

  ‘I want nowt to do wi’ wimmin doctors,’ the old man wheezed, and coughed painfully.

  ‘You seem to have a nasty cough there,’ Katharine said ignoring his remark. ‘Let’s see if we can give you something to ease it.’

  She rose and went towards the medicine cabinet.

  ‘Ah don’t want none o’ tha potions, miss, thank ’ ee. More an’ like it’ll be poison.’

  Katharine whirled to face him, a sharp retort on her lips. But instead she sighed. There was no point in losing her temper. Better to keep her dignity.

  ‘Good day to thee,’ the old man turned away. ‘I’ll be waiting till t’doctor is better ’imself.’

  The old man’s visit caused Katharine more despondency than ever and even Anthony’s teasing could not lift her from depression.

  At last even his levity faded and he told her seriously,

  ‘Katharine, you’re going to meet a great deal of opposition in this world because you’re a pioneer almost as a woman entering the field of medicine. I know you had a valiant battle at university and you won. You qualified. But the fight’s not over.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘ If it hadn’t been for your support then, I might never have finished the course.’

  ‘It was lucky for me too that I met you. I don’t know what I’d have done in those early days without your friendship. The city was just as strange to me as the country is to you.’

  ‘I’ve always imagined that country folk were more friendly than townsfolk,’ Katharine said.

  ‘Don’t you believe it. They live in the past. Why, no one here in Brackenbeck owns a horseless carriage though they do say that Jim Kendrick is sorely tempted.’

  ‘That’s the name – I thought I’d heard it before. You used to talk about him at university – I remember now. I saw an empty house called “Kendrick Hou
se” on my way down into the village. Is it his house?’

  There was a pause whilst Anthony filled his pipe and moved his leg to a more comfortable position on the stool.

  ‘Ah, I was coming to him.’

  The silence deepened as Anthony lit his pipe, the blue smoke curling upwards as he drew and puffed.

  ‘Jim Kendrick is enemy number one as far as you’re concerned.’

  ‘But you said, I remember, when you spoke of him years ago, that the whole valley idolised him.’

  ‘Ah, they do. That’s just it, Kate. Young and old, men, women and children – all are Jim Kendrick’s willing slaves. And so, what he says goes.’

  ‘Then how does it affect me?’

  ‘Because he will not welcome you, and so – nor will anyone else.’

  ‘Why ever not? He doesn’t even know me.’

  ‘Kate, Jim doesn’t like women. And he likes women doctors even less.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a long story and if I tell you, it’s in strict confidence – he’s not a man to like his private affairs noised abroad.’

  ‘Of course, Anthony.’

  ‘Jim Kendrick lives in the centre of the village in a little cottage of his own. His sister, Mary, and her husband, Tom Gifford, live next door. They have a small son, by the way, of two. Jim’s father lives in the next dale now. They hardly ever see him. He’s a cussed old devil, rich as a king and mean as they come. He, the father, still owns “Kendrick House”, but doesn’t want to live there, and doesn’t want anyone else to live there either. So his son and daughter live in cottages in the village.’

  ‘But I thought Jim Kendrick owned Brackenbeck quarry?’

  ‘So he does. He worked like a slave, still does for that matter, and eight years ago when he was only twenty-five, mind you, the chap who owned the quarry, Simon Johnson, drank himself to death and Jim was able to buy the quarry with his savings. If anyone deserved to get on, it’s Jim, for there’s few that work as hard.’

  ‘You were close friends with him, weren’t you, Anthony?’

  ‘Ay.’ Anthony drew on his pipe and leant back in the chair, his head resting on the leather back, his eyes roaming the ceiling but seeing the days of his boyhood.

  ‘There were good times and bad. Good mainly for me and bad for Jim.’ He had a very unhappy boyhood,’ Anthony continued. ‘His mother and father fought like cat and dog and finally his mother, having money of her own, walked out on them. Jim was only fourteen and Mary a wee lass of six. Jim never forgave his mother, you understand, and apart from his sister, he’ll have nothing to do with women.’

  ‘I see,’ Katharine said slowly. ‘He must be rather narrow-minded, though, to consider all women in the same category as his mother.’

  Anthony shrugged.

  ‘He just built a wall round himself, Kate. Even I, who consider myself his best friend to this day, can’t talk about his family to him. But,’ Anthony waved his pipe at her, ‘mark my words, if that man ever falls in love, he’ll fall harder than anyone I know and woe betide the woman who crosses him.’

  Katharine shuddered.

  ‘He sounds fearsome on his own without being backed by everyone in the village. Still, I’m not one to run away from a fight, Anthony Stafford, seeing as you’ve put me in the middle of one.’

  Anthony grinned.

  ‘That’s my Kate.’

  Katharine spent the day in and around Anthony’s house. She did not like to venture far for fear someone needed her medical attention and she was missing.

  The next morning she found the surgery empty again and not even a disgruntled old man put in an appearance.

  The day was fine and warm and during the afternoon Anthony, tired of sitting indoors, decided he could hobble out into the garden.

  ‘I’ll need your help, Kate,’ his eyes twinkled merrily, and he put his arm about her slim shoulders and, pretending to lean heavily on her, they went out into the front garden giggling at Anthony’s hopping gait just like two school children.

  Coming up the drive was Mrs. Rigby, who observed their hilarity with reprobation. Katharine watched the expression of disdain upon the woman’s face as she neared them. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs. Rigby,’ Anthony called as he settled himself comfortably on the garden seat. ‘That was a fine lunch you gave us.’

  The woman mellowed a little beneath Anthony’s charm, but her glance at Katharine held no trace of friendship.

  ‘Mr. Kendrick’s on ’is way to see you, sir.’

  ‘Good,’ bellowed Anthony. ‘ Make us some tea, Mrs. Rigby, there’s a lamb.’

  Mrs. Rigby actually smiled. It was plain to see that if there was a soft spot under her flint-like countenance, it was for Dr. Stafford.

  Anthony and Katharine waited in the garden for the arrival of Jim Kendrick. Katharine felt uncommonly nervous, as if her fate rested with this stranger. Certainly she knew her reception in Brackenbeck depended upon his attitude towards her, for the villagers would follow his lead. But why should she feel that this man, whom she had yet to meet, could alter the whole course of her life?

  Chapter Two

  Katharine saw Jim Kendrick long before he reached Anthony’s gate. He walked up the slope with easy strides. He was a giant of a man, broad-shouldered and lithe. His black hair glinted in the sunlight. As he neared them, she could see his eyes were hidden almost beneath heavy black eyebrows drawn together in a perpetual frown. His face was tanned and his arms, tanned also to a deep bronze, were muscular. He was dressed in workman’s clothes and heavy boots, and she guessed he had come straight from the quarry. But despite the appearance of his clothes, there was a proud air about the way he walked as if he were answerable to no man – or woman.

  ‘Hello there, Anthony,’ he greeted, his voice a rich bass as one might expect.

  ‘Hello, Jim. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Dr. Harvey. She’s kindly come to stand in for me whilst I’m laid up with this ankle.’

  The frown deepened and now, as he stood before her, she looked up into his dark eyes and tried to smile. She found no answering smile of welcome, but he did, after a moment’s hesitation, take the hand she held out to him. His grasp was firm and warm, yet the words he spoke belied his touch.

  ‘I’m afraid I cannot welcome you to our village, Miss Harvey. My men would not welcome a woman doctor.’

  His voice held traces of his Yorkshire heritage, but, like Anthony, his dialect was less noticeable than with most of the people of Brackenbeck.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Kendrick,’ Katharine said quietly and with dignity. ‘But perhaps you and your men will change your minds if your families are sick and in need of help whilst Dr. Stafford is indisposed.’

  Jim Kendrick jerked his head.

  ‘There’s a doctor in the next valley could attend to us fine. Anthony had no need to bring you here.’

  ‘A doctor has his patients’ welfare at heart, Mr. Kendrick. Dr. Stafford acted in the interest of his patients in bringing a qualified doctor to be resident in this valley.’

  ‘Come, come,’ Anthony laughed. ‘You’ve only just met and yet here you both are with your hackles up.’

  Katharine smiled, but Jim remained silent, his brown gaze seeming to take in Katharine’s appearance.

  She felt he was appraising her strength and ability, and finding her lacking in both.

  Automatically her head went higher and she met his gaze unflinchingly.

  At last Jim turned away and spoke in unhurried tones to Anthony.

  ‘I came to see if there was aught I could do – to help make arrangements about another doctor, but it seems you’ve taken matters into your own hands.’

  ‘Jim,’ Anthony said, ‘give the lass a chance. She’s a qualified doctor.’

  ‘Why hasn’t she a practice of her own then?’

  Anthony glanced at Katharine.

  ‘Because I am waiting to hear if my application to join the children’s ward at a London hospital has been accep
ted,’ Katharine told him.

  ‘I see.’ He turned back to Anthony. ‘ Look, it’s only that I’m concerned about her being able to cope if there were an accident. Some of these things are no sight for a woman. What if she faints?’

  Anthony’s loud laughter filled the air.

  ‘Katharine – faint?’ He slapped his thigh. ‘You underestimate her, old man. She’s as tough as they come.’

  Jim shook his head slowly.

  ‘I must be old-fashioned, Miss Harvey. Maybe I am. I’m sorry, but I cannot accept that you can do the work of a man. Good-day to you both.’

  And he left them as swiftly as he had come.

  All her fears had been justified. This man disturbed Katharine more than she cared to admit. She thought she had become used to the prejudice she was bound to meet in her chosen profession, new to it as women were, but Jim Kendrick’s refusal to accept her hurt far more than she had thought possible.

  ‘Don’t let him worry you, lass. Though I’m more sorry than I can say that he’s acting this way, I expected as much,’ Anthony said, for once his handsome face sober.

  ‘Don’t let it bother you, Anthony, after all I shan’t be here for long,’ Katharine answered and was startled to see the pain cross Anthony’s face.

  ‘Is your ankle hurting, Anthony?’

  ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘Forget it.’

  But his swift change of attitude to one so contrary to his nature puzzled Katharine.

  Mrs. Rigby’s hostility did little to ease Katharine’s feelings for the villagers and it wasn’t until she had been in the valley for over a week that she received her first patient at morning surgery.

  A fresh-faced young woman entered the consulting-room carrying a little boy of about two years old in her arms. The child was big for his age and a handsome little fellow, Katharine saw, but obviously running a fever.

  ‘Is Dr. Stafford not here?’ The woman paused uncertainly in the doorway.

  ‘No, but I am a doctor. Can I help?’

  ‘Well, I don’t rightly know …’

  ‘Please come and sit down.’

  The woman came in and set the child down to stand on the floor. The little boy whimpered and swayed slightly clutching at his mother’s skirts.