Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘Ah well, that’s not a bad idea. Take it from me, invalids can be very draining – hello, Bright!’ He poked his head around the kitchen door.

  ‘Hello, Dr Noel, come in out of the cold.’ She was already setting cups on the table.

  ‘Mm, what a delicious smell!’

  ‘Mother o’God! I put some mince pies in the oven to warm for you coming and forgot all about them.’ Seizing an ovencloth, she hurried to the range and rescued the pies. ‘Oh they’re all right – probably take the skin off your mouth, mind!’ She laughed as she transferred them to a cooling tray, then came back to him. ‘Tis nice to see you again. Are ye well?’

  ‘How considerate of someone to ask the doctor instead of always the reverse. I’m very well indeed, Bright. Could I warm my hands before I venture upstairs?’ He made directly for the fireplace, then indicated the swag of greenery that hung from the mantel. ‘Oh, look at this! Somebody’s ready for Christmas.’ Bright told him it was Oriel’s work. ‘Very artistic.’ He held his hands to the fire. ‘Ah, that’s grand! It must be nice to sit in front of a blaze like this all day instead of tramping round in the cold and subjecting oneself to all manner of infections.’

  ‘Sit in front of the fire all day?’ laughed Bright. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

  He grinned. ‘I was only kidding. I don’t envy you having to run up and down those stairs time after time. All I can say is it’s a good thing you’re never ill, or who would fetch and carry after her ladyship?’

  ‘Well, yes, I don’t ail much apart from the odd cold,’ and the odd bout of madness, she added privately. ‘Oriel must take after me too, though she hardly goes anywhere to catch anything.’

  Noel had remembered. ‘Hey, you’ll never guess who’s paid me a visit since the last time I saw you.’ He spun from the fire. ‘Our friend Nat!’ Bright almost fainted. ‘Oh really – Oriel, go and inform Miss B that the doctor’s here, will ye!’

  But Oriel was watching the doctor. ‘Did you say Nat?’

  ‘Er…’ Noel had seen Bright’s alarm and cursed his stupidity. ‘Yes, he’s just an old friend of mine.’

  ‘Oriel, will you please do as you are told!’

  With a huff, the girl complied, but went slowly in order to try and catch any snippet of information that might follow.

  Noel realizing his error, did not speak until he was certain she had gone upstairs. ‘I’m sorry, Bright, was I wrong to mention him?’

  ‘No!’ Bright gave a false laugh. ‘Why ever should ye be? Er, did ye see him in a professional capacity or…?’ She wrung her hands as if trying to rid them of stubborn dirt.

  Noel watched the tortured expression. ‘Mm… I don’t suppose I’d be breaking the Hippocratic Oath to tell you he had bronchitis.’ Perhaps he had better not mention the night out he had enjoyed with their friend.

  Bright nodded, trying to appear calm, smoothing a cloth on the table. ‘Aye, he used to get it every year as a child. So, what’s he doing back from Canada?’ She gave no hint that she knew he had been back for some time.

  ‘Apparently he was thrown out – been in York for ten years…’

  Ten years! Oriel, straining to hear from the staircase, covered her mouth. My father has lived here for most of my life and has never been to see me. Bright had always spoken in such glowing terms of Nat that Oriel had remained confident that he would eventually come back. Now, she did not know what to believe.

  ‘…has his own business trading in woollens and seems he’s also a man of property.’ All the while he spoke Noel watched her face and Bright knew what was in his mind.

  ‘I’m glad he’s done well for himself. D’you want to go up and see Miss B now, doctor?’

  He had upset her. How stupid to throw Nat’s name into the conversation like that when he was almost certain that their mutual friend was Oriel’s father. It would wound like hell. What had possessed him? Nought but his own selfish desire to know. After visiting his patient, instead of tarrying as he usually did, Noel disappointed Oriel by refusing the offer of tea and mince pies, saying he had things to do at the surgery, thereby forcing her to turn to her mother in order to unravel the mystery. ‘Why did you send me out when Dr Noel mentioned my father?’ When Bright just stared she added, ‘It was my father of whom he spoke, wasn’t it?’

  Bright lowered her face. ‘It was.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he come to see us if he’s been here all that time?’ A strange and unpleasant mood had come over Oriel.

  Bright nibbled her lip and shook her head, too upset to offer explanation to her confused child, for despite her airs and graces Oriel was only a child.

  ‘Will you go and see him?’ asked her daughter.

  Bright lifted her chin. Her eyes were suffused with emotion. ‘No. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to see…’ she cleared her throat, ‘see us. So I think we’ll leave him alone.’

  For once, when her employer’s bell rang the harassed maid voiced no complaint but hurried to answer it, eager to escape that bewildered look in Oriel’s eye.

  ‘Ah, Maguire!’ Coughing and wheezing, Miss Bytheway tried to lever herself into a more comfortable position. ‘Come and plump up my pillows.’ Even though King Edward had been dead for over six months she retained her own token of mourning in the form of a black lace cap.

  Bright rushed to her assistance, then asked, ‘Would you like another drink, ma’am?’

  ‘If you would be so kind.’ Face drawn and even paler than normal, Miss Bytheway took the glass of lemon and honey from her servant and put it to her lips. ‘Ah, that’s better.’ She relaxed against the mound of pillows and closed her eyes.

  The maid replaced the glass on the table. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’

  ‘No, that will not be all!’ The translucent eyelids flew open and Miss Bytheway clasped her handkerchief in her fist. ‘For some years Oriel has entertained the ridiculous notion of becoming a nurse.’

  ‘What’s so ridiculous about wanting to help people?’

  The old lady scowled at the interruption. ‘If it is charity which concerns you, Maguire, then there are other ways in which Oriel can be useful. You don’t imagine I’ve imparted the benefits of my own education simply for her to waste it by emptying bedpans? She has a good brain, she is capable of much more.’

  ‘Have you told her you don’t want her to be a nurse?’ asked Bright.

  ‘I have tried to coax her in other directions,’ the old lady inclined her lace-capped head, ‘but she’s far too busy chattering to take any notice of an old woman. No, it is your place as her mother to lay down the rules.’

  Bright’s temper flared. ‘To be the one who disappoints her, ye mean! She’s set her heart on being a nurse.’

  ‘Maguire, I have spoken!’ Miss Bytheway brought her handkerchief up to her mouth and coughed into it. ‘I shall not say more. Suffice to say that if you value your own position you will persuade Oriel to see sense! That is all!’

  Bright wheeled out of the room and downstairs. Not even illness could subdue the old tyrant’s need to control. ‘The cheek of that woman!’

  Oriel was still puzzled and upset over her father. ‘Mother, why…’

  ‘Do you know what she asked me up there for? I’m to order you not to become a nurse! How d’ye like that?’

  Oriel was vague in her response. ‘She’s always trying to get me to change my mind, I take no notice.’

  ‘Well, this time I think you have to take notice. She’s adamant that you’re not to become a nurse.’

  Oriel sighed. ‘Why?’

  ‘Lord knows! Probably thinks it’s not good enough for ye. She says,’ Bright hesitated, ‘if you continue with your plan, she’ll throw us out – well, more or less. She said if I valued my position I’d do as I was told and persuade you to conform.’ She gave a futile gesture. ‘If I’m sacked we’ll both be homeless. I don’t think you’ve any choice.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ yelped Oriel. ‘You’re a good worker, anyone would employ you.
’

  ‘No, they wouldn’t, not a single woman with a child.’ Not to mention that that woman was regarded as mad, by her present employer and even by Bright herself.

  ‘You’ve allowed that to rule you for far too long!’ retorted her daughter. ‘Letting her treat you like dirt because you’re afraid that no other person’ll have you. It’s nonsense!’

  Bright was angry at the lack of respect. ‘It’s not nonsense to those who have a child to feed and clothe! Tis all very well for you to be so high falluting, you’ve never been thrown out on the street!’

  Oriel showed instant remorse and flew to hug the mother she adored. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to sound insulting, I know how much you’ve put up with for my sake! It’s that silly old fool up there I’m angry with, not you. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it!’ Apologies rattled from her lips like dried peas into a pot, whilst inside she felt as if all her dreams had been shattered.

  Chest still heaving, Bright stroked her daughter’s dark hair. ‘I know, I know, it’s all right. I didn’t mean to get angry with you either. Ooh, that woman! Here, let me tie your ribbon.’ She pushed Oriel to face the wall and refastened her blue bow.

  Oriel sniffed. ‘I won’t be a nurse if you don’t want me to.’

  Bright was indignant and spun her around. ‘It’s not me who doesn’t want it!’

  ‘I know, but I mean I’ll give up the idea if it’s going to cause trouble.’ Oriel drew away and looked into Bright’s face, hoping her mother would not allow her to make this sacrifice.

  She was to be disappointed. ‘Oh, you’re a good lass!’ Bright hugged her. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask but it would be a load off my mind.’

  Oriel nodded. ‘I’m determined to do it one day, though – even if I have to wait until after she’s dead.’

  Bright crossed herself. ‘Oh, don’t say that. I dread to think what’ll happen to me once she’s gone.’

  Oriel was scornful. ‘Well, I should think that time is a long way off. The old despot’s more likely to drive you to the grave before herself.’

  Bright ended the conversation. ‘You’re probably right. Now, I’m off to the shop to get some more lemons for Her Highness. No wonder she’s so sour, she goes through them by the hundredweight.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ Oriel prevented her mother from leaving and, after donning coat and hat, went off to the village in the hope that some fresh air would dispel this hateful and confusing mood.

  Unknown to Bright, Nat had been coming here quite regularly, it was just that she had been far too busy to notice him. As was his wont, he had been shivering outside for the last five minutes on the off-chance that he would catch sight of his daughter. The tram had arrived just in time for him to witness Noel leaving, and instead of alighting he had gone on to the next stop, having no wish to invoke questions from the doctor. He had just wandered back along the road when he saw Oriel coming out with a basket over her arm and, as she set off towards the village, he followed at a respectable distance on the other side of the road. Preoccupied, her eyes were cast down to the footpath and her expression grave. He knew that expression well, though he prayed that he was wrong; prayed to God that his child had not inherited his black moods. When she went into the village store, so did he, listening to every word she uttered. Upon the purchase of some lemons, she left. Nat bought a box of matches and followed her back to the house.

  Through her wounded psyche, Oriel felt a presence behind her, frowned and turned to look over her shoulder. Fortunately, Nat was almost level with a tram stop. When his daughter turned he stopped and used the matches he had just bought to light a cigarette, pretending to be waiting for a tram, when, just at that moment one came and he was forced to get on it if he did not want to arouse more suspicion than he had already. As the tram whirred past her small figure she glanced up at it, thereby denying him one last look at her before the tram carried him into town.

  This had got to stop. He was getting too close, was going to frighten her unless he came forward to explain who he was, and he just couldn’t do that. With his anonymity gone he would no longer be able to get close to her if she herself did not wish it.

  He alighted in Nessgate and was about to cross the road when he noticed a dog lying in the gutter. It had obviously been run over, one hind leg having been almost severed. Nat took a closer look. The dog lifted a large head to return his scrutiny, a look of tortured mistrust in its eye; it had apparently been suffering from neglect for a long time, its coat was matted and its attitude one of cowed dejection. Each time Nat made to stoop its lip curled up. However coaxing he made his voice, its growl forbade intimacy. ‘Look, you soft mutt, you’re going to have to take a chance ’cause none o’ these buggers is going to help you.’ Nat cocked his head at the indifference of passers-by. At his words the dog trembled and growled, but wagged its tail. ‘Contrary bugger, aren’t you?’ Risking injury, he extended a tentative hand, laying it upon the dog’s head. It quivered and growled and licked its pendulous jowls in fear, but did not bite. Nat ran his hand over the animal’s back. Its eyes rolled in shifty manner.

  Nat pondered on what to do with it, then with a flash of inspiration remembered that Noel’s surgery was right around the corner. With ginger movements, he tucked his hands underneath its belly, scraping the backs of his leather gloves against the road as he inched them further under its weight. When he began to lift it gently it stopped growling, but drooled in terror. Its quivering ran through its whole body and into his own. ‘You poor bloody sod.’

  Trying not to jar the injured animal, he carried its not inconsiderable weight round to Noel’s surgery where, with no one in attendance, he kicked on the door of what he hoped was the doctor’s private apartment.

  Noel almost choked on the brazil nut he had been chewing. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s a Christmas present, what d’you think it is?’

  ‘Nat, I’m a doctor not a fucking vet!’ protested Noel, watching the blood drip all over his carpet.

  ‘And I’m not a bloody detective! I don’t know where to find a vet – just fix it for Christ’s sake, my arms are breaking!’

  Still protesting, Noel told him to bring the dog through to the surgery. ‘Thank God there are no patients.’ He lit a cigarette, looking flustered as Nat laid the animal on the couch. ‘What a mess. Does it bite?’

  ‘How should I know? He’s not mine.’ Nat straightened his back and attempted to brush the hairs from his coat.

  The other tutted. ‘I only allowed you to bring it in here because I thought it was yours!’

  ‘I wouldn’t treat a dog of mine like that.’ Nat was looking for a place to lay his topper. ‘He’s a stray. Come on, stop arguing the toss and get it fixed.’

  ‘All right, Saint Francis, hold it still!’ Clamping the cigarette between exasperated lips, Noel reached for a bottle of chloroform and sprinkled some onto a pad. At the first whiff the hound struggled but Nat held him firm and soon he was too weak to object. Noel put a gauze cup over the animal’s nose, then draped it with lint and peppered a little more chloroform onto it. ‘Now, hold that there, Nat, and just add a few drops when I tell you to.’

  Nat watched his friend gather his instruments, queasiness rising. When Noel produced a saw he balked. ‘What do you need that for? His leg’s only dangling by a thread.’

  ‘Do you want me to fix it or don’t you?’ Noel drew on the cigarette and when Nat nodded he explained over a puff of smoke. ‘The bone’s shattered. I’ll have to saw it cleanly further up. I’m not much of a surgeon but a dog can’t complain. Christ, it bloody stinks.’

  As Noel lowered the saw, Nat turned his face away. It did not help. The moment he heard metal teeth grate on bone he fainted.

  The doctor kicked him into consciousness. ‘Come on, Nat, you were the one who brought it in here!’

  Groggily, Nat propped himself up on his elbow, then clambered to his feet, trying to keep his eyes averted.

  ‘For God’s sake keep
it anaesthetized! Oh, facking hell, Nat…’ Noel blew ash from the dog’s fur, then continued to saw, all the while cursing his assistant’s inability.

  At any other time Nat loved the way his friend swore. The most obscene words could sound like music from Noel’s lips, but right at this moment he could focus on nothing but that shambles on the couch. How he managed to remain conscious he did not know, but the dog underwent a successful amputation and now lay at peace with one bandaged stump.

  ‘It’s an ugly-looking bastard, isn’t it?’ Noel pulled up one of the animal’s eyelids to reveal a bloodshot eye, then gathered his soiled instruments together. ‘What do you intend doing with it now?’

  Nat’s thoughts had strayed to his daughter, seeing not the dog but her injured body upon the couch. He flinched, then took a deep breath and shrugged. ‘Take it home, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, it’ll be in a lot of pain when it wakes up. Don’t be surprised if it gives you a nip. If it does, come back for an injection, and I mean that! No messing about pretending you’re tough, I know very well you’re not.’

  ‘Can you give me some pills?’

  ‘No, it has to be given by injection.’

  ‘I meant for the dog, to stop his pain.’

  Noel gave a sour laugh and, taking out a container of tablets, poured a few into a small box. ‘You can pay for them, mind. I don’t think the National Insurance extends to dogs yet, though I wouldn’t put it past the bloody government.’

  Nat thanked him. ‘Can I leave him here while I go home for the cart?’

  ‘If you’re quick. I don’t want my rich patients coming here and thinking I’m a quack.’

  ‘Thanks for fixing up the dog, Noel.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ The physician smiled. ‘It wasn’t half as bad a patient as some I have to deal with.’

  ‘Maybe you ought to become a vet.’ Nat was at the door.

  ‘There’s not enough money in it – hey, hang on! Oh no, it’s nothing important.’ He had been going to tell Nat of the effect his name had had upon Bright, but something prevented him. One day, though, he would ask to know the truth. ‘I was just going to wish you Merry Christmas. Fack orf now and get that bloody cart.’