It was obvious, too, that Terry wasn’t missing her attention, the persistent fever kept him restless and fretful, and with the perversity of children the company of those he normally loved only seemed to aggravate him further.
Jill, packing her small suitcase ready for her departure that evening, had no real regrets—at least, not on Terry’s, behalf—but her anxiety for his condition still weighed heavily on her mind, and she wondered how she would ever be able to concentrate upon her work at St. Joseph’s with the picture of Terry’s suffering for ever in her mind. She was grateful that, at Dr. Sharland’s request, Duncan McRey would be coming again that afternoon; at least he would be able to give her his latest impression of Terry’s condition before she had to leave Brent Towers. He hadn’t demurred at coming on a Sunday, and Jill knew, with the tremendous amount of work he put in during the week, he must have needed a few hours’ rest. Jill glanced round the familiar bedroom; it was the height of luxury, with a shining tiled bathroom showing through the communicating door. It certainly made her quarters at hospital seem inadequate, and yet she had never consciously missed it, never yearned for that deep-piled carpet, the quilted satin covers or the built-in mirrored cupboards. Even now as she looked round her, it appeared impersonal, and she would not have exchanged it for her narrow little room at St. Joseph’s. She collected some additional underwear from a drawer and laid it on top of her suitcase; the actions were mechanical as her thoughts strayed to Duncan McRey’s impending visit. She sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be late; it had been easy coming with Philip by car, but the cross-country return journey involved several changes, the Sunday service was abominable, and she dared not delay her departure too long.
What an unexpected week-end it had been. She had left St. Joseph’s with pleasurable anticipation, vague plans for walking with Philip, a game of golf, the inevitable romps with Terry ... A sigh escaped Jill’s lips; it hadn’t turned out like that, but she would always be grateful to Philip for his willing acceptance of what must have been to him a disappointing holiday. He had laughed off Jill’s apologies and gratitude, and up to the time of his departure, had done all he could to ease her way; he had even got Sir Trevor on to the links, and there was no doubt the exercise had done much to help steady her stepfather’s nerves, and Jill was sure that if it hadn’t been for Philip, her mother would never have borne up as well as she had.
The sound of the luncheon gong caused Jill to stuff the last items into her bag, then, not waiting to close it, she hurried down to join the others. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I was just packing,” Jill explained as she seated herself at the dining-room table and helped herself to a dish the maid was handing. Storm, flood, and havoc could come to Brent Towers, but there was one thing of which Jill was certain, her mother would never permit the slightest laxity in the smooth running of the house, the meals would be served promptly, course by course, with unbroken routine.
“I can’t bear the idea of your leaving. Must you go?” Lady Hallard asked plaintively.
“There is little I can do here. Terry has excellent nurses—and Nana—he doesn’t want me. Of course, should he really need me you know I’d come at once.”
“I’d still prefer you to stay,” Lady Hallard persisted as she made a pretence of eating.
“Jill knows best, my dear,” her husband interrupted. “We’ll send for her if she is wanted. Much better for her to be fully occupied than mooching around here.” No doubt aware that the conversation would only encourage his wife to start again on the vexed question of Jill working, he made haste to change the subject. “What time do you expect the specialist down, Jill?”
“I imagine he’ll be here sometime this afternoon. I hope it won’t be late because I want to get off at about six, and I would have liked to know Dr. McRey’s opinion before I leave, although of course I shall be able to ask him when he gets back to St. Joseph’s.”
“Terrible journey for you. Why don’t you borrow one of the cars?” Sir Trevor asked.
“I wouldn’t know what to do with it once I got to hospital,” Jill laughed. “Nursing staff don’t customarily have their own cars. I’d feel such a fool!”
“That nursing business of yours just makes me angry,” Lady Hallard broke in, but determined not to allow her an outlet Sir Trevor quickly interrupted, again addressing Jill.
“I see your point.” He paused as the waiting maid removed his plate. “Then why not let Dr. McRey run you back? This is shocking weather for you to be hanging about country stations.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jill admitted while she turned the matter over in her mind, then realized that that wasn’t quite true; with the prospect of a cross-country journey on a bitterly cold winter night, her thoughts had naturally turned to the prospect of a lift in Duncan McRey s car. She had immediately dismissed the idea; somehow she felt that he was unlikely to make the offer, and she certainly had no intention of letting the suggestion come from her.
“She doesn’t want to go with him.” There was such undeniable emphasis on the last word that Jill stared at her mother with surprise, then found herself laughing.
“What makes you say that? What’s the matter with Dr. McRey as an escort?” she asked with some amusement.
“Most unprepossessing,” Lady Hallard announced with emphasis. “No manners at all.”
“No lady’s man, you mean, Madeleine.” Sir Trevor lit a cigarette as he pushed back his chair. “But I must admit I liked him; a bit brusque if you like, but a straightforward and genuine manner I found extremely likeable. He also seemed to know his job.”
Jill was glad that the end of the meal brought a finish to the discussion; there was so much she might have added to the conversation, yet somehow she felt no desire. “Let’s have a stroll through the hothouses, Trevor, I haven’t seen them for ages,” she suggested. “Is there anything beautifully exotic and exciting there this year?”
Glad to show off his plants, of which he was inordinately proud, he walked by Jill’s side through the long windows which led direct to the conservatory. It was certainly a pleasant and interesting diversion, and Jill was surprised how quickly the time had passed, when her mother’s voice called her to announce Duncan McRey’s arrival.
He had certainly come early, and Jill realized with some relief there wouldn’t be any difficulty about her train. She dialed Dr. Sharland’s number on the phone in the hall, advised him of Dr. McRey’s arrival, then hurried to join the others who awaited her in the library.
“Is Dr. Sharland coming, over?” Duncan McRey asked Jill as she entered, omitting any formal greeting.
“He is on his way.” Jill very nearly added ‘Sir,’ his attitude differed so little from his hospital manner, despite their temporarily changed relationship, that it was difficult to remember to drop the customary formality. “I have just rung him.”
Again Jill made no effort to be present at the consultation. She felt that Terry was no worse, but she longed with all her heart that Duncan McRey might announce even the slightest sign of improvement. Unconsciously her eyes sought Dr. Sharland’s as the two men emerged from Terry’s room; perhaps she knew only too well that she would read little or nothing from Duncan McRey’s expression. Her intuition had not been at fault, Dr. Sharland’s rugged features even showed the semblance of a smile.
“Well, Miss Fernley, Dr. McRey is far more encouraging today. He seems to think...”
Jill did not mean to be rude, but she couldn’t curb her impatience. Cutting him short, she turned eagerly and instinctively to Duncan McRey. “You really are more satisfied?” Her violet eyes sought his with an expression almost of appeal.
“The temperature hasn’t settled, but I think we can dispose of any question of ear involvement. The next couple of days should show some general improvement.”
“Excuse me, I’ll go down to Sir Trevor and Lady Hallard, I know how anxious they are. I’ll tell them you’ll be down to speak to them yourself in a moment.” Dr. Sharland, w
ith obvious pleasure at the news he was about to convey, hurried down the stairway.
“I’m so glad.” Jill felt as if she were breathing again. Duncan McRey hadn’t said much, hadn’t even been particularly encouraging, but somehow she felt he would not have offered even that much consolation had it not been more than justified.
“That damn fool of a nurse tells me she can’t get the child to take anything, not even fluid.”
Jill could not help smiling; it seemed that in his eyes a girl had only to don a starched cap and uniform to become the butt of his criticism. “Nurse Robins is excellent, she has infinite patience with children, and if she can’t get Terry to take any nourishment, then no one can.” She could not resist speaking in Nurse Robin’s favour.
“Nonsense!” He swept away her defence with one word. “Get me some milk, jelly or ice-cream—anything he takes normally with reasonable enjoyment.”
“Certainly.” Jill was still smiling as she fetched milk from the nursery kitchen and, setting the glass on a tray, returned to him. “Here it is. Are you going to see what you can do? I spent half an hour at it myself this morning, and it only resulted in a soaking sheet, a crying child, and a despairing me!”
Disregarding her words he returned to the night nursery and approached Terry’s bed. “Now young fellow, how about a drink? You’ve got to make an effort, even if you don’t want it. I didn’t particularly want to come and see you, but I made the effort, so here I am.” The soft burring note which seemed so noticeable in his gentler moods entered his voice.
“I don’t want anyfing ... my head hurts and I too hot.” Terry’s tone was fretful, and Jill didn’t feel that Duncan McRey’s prospects were promising. She found herself, nevertheless, watching and listening, amazed at his untiring patience, his almost uncanny understanding of the child’s mind, the gradual winning round, and Terry’s eventual capitulation.
If she had been expecting any “I told you so,” from Duncan McRey when he set aside the empty glass, it didn’t come. He merely rose to his feet from his chair at the bedside, bade the child good-bye, then with a curt nod to the nurse, hurried from the room. He was already half-way down the stairs when Jill, with Nurse Robins by her side, reached the doorway.
“He is a one!” Nurse Robins exclaimed. “Good luck to you working for him. Attractive to look at, but give me old Humphrey’s ugly face any day. I don’t know how you stick his manner, honestly I don’t.”
“You can get used to anything!” Jill laughed. “But I must be getting along to mother. She thinks his manners are atrocious too. If I’m not careful she’ll be telling him so, so I’d better go down and keep the peace!”
Everything was in fact quite peaceful when Jill rejoined the group round the tea table. Lady Hallard was too relieved at the encouraging news conveyed by Dr. Sharland to allow herself to be put out by anything. She was nothing if not just, and doubtless recognized how much she owed to Dr. McRey’s skill and ability; her personal feeling counted little against the possibility of Terry’s recovery.
“Ring for Burton, dear, I think we might have the curtains pulled. It’s not really dark yet, but I’ll be glad to shut out the sight of that gloomy outlook. I shouldn’t be surprised if we get a good fall of snow yet.” Lady Hallard spoke to Jill, then addressed the last part of her statement to no one in particular.
Jill didn’t believe that she had ever been conscious before of the incongruity of ringing the bell for the mere purpose of pulling curtains across the windows. It was the natural procedure in a house run as Lady Hallard ran Brent Towers and she had always accepted it as long as she could remember. It must have been Duncan McRey’s presence which made the request jar, he had neither looked at her nor even moved, but Jill was certain that a fleeting expression of contempt had crossed his features. It seemed strange that, instead of anger, she felt its justification, and hoping that neither Trevor nor her mother would comment on her behaviour, she rose from her chair and pulled the curtains quickly across the window. “It certainly does look like snow,” she found herself speaking to cover her own action, and went on, eager to set the ball rolling, “I don’t think it’s quite as cold as it was, but then it often warms up a bit before snowing, doesn’t it?” She recognized the triviality of her remark, but she had at least regained her seat without her mother commenting on her unprecedented action.
“Are you returning to St. Joseph’s tonight or in the morning?” Ignoring her futile question, Duncan McRey asked Jill, as he handed her his cup to be refilled.
“Tonight. The connections are so bad that I couldn’t get there in the morning, however early I left.”
“I suppose not.” He seemed to have lost interest in the subject and began to discuss the local golfing facilities with Sir Trevor, a subject about which he seemed far more interested. As it transpired during the conversation that Duncan McRey played to a plus two handicap, Jill was hardly surprised.
“You must come over for a game one day. It’s one of the best courses in the country, some even liken it to St. Andrews, but it’d hardly go as far as to say that,” Sir Trevor laughed. “Now don’t forget, don’t wait for an invitation, just ring through and fix a day. You’ll have to give me a few strokes, but not as many as you think,” he added with some gratification.
“Trevor plays to a six when he is on his game, but he is terribly erratic,” Jill explained, glad of the easy turn the conversation had taken. “Don’t ever let him discuss politics before or during a round, he gets so rattled he can’t even hit the ball!”
As Jill listened to the two men discussing first golf, then other mutual interests, she realized she was seeing yet another side of Duncan McRey’s character; he seemed extraordinarily unreserved with her stepfather, completely opposite as they were. She couldn’t imagine why it should matter, but she was aware of pleasure that he had responded so readily to Trevor’s show of friendship, the air of unreality which had persisted at his first visit had left her. The fact that this man was sitting in the intimacy of her home, in the armchair which she could recall, years gone by, had been her father’s favourite chair, it suddenly seemed natural as if it had to be. He had found his way into the sacred precincts of her nursery, had fondled the teddy bear with which she had shared her childish dreams, and now in some inexplicable way he had become part of her home, no longer an incongruous addition.
“I must be getting back.” His sudden statement roused Jill from her reverie. “Are you ready?” he asked, addressing Jill.
“Ready? What do you mean?” she questioned with some surprise.
“I suppose you’ll come back with me, won’t you? Or have you made other arrangements?”
“I was going by train. It would be a great help to have a lift.” Jill was so surprised that her tone was scarcely gracious. She was aware of her mother’s somewhat grudging thanks and Trevor’s warm encouragement of the suggestion as she still waited, uncertain as to whether Duncan McRey really expected an acceptance. She was still in a state of bewilderment by the turn affairs had taken when she found herself seated beside him in an antique-looking car with her suitcase on the back seat, turning down the drive of Brent Towers.
CHAPTER TEN
Jill imagined she was familiar with every rut in the winding lane leading to Brent Village, but she was certainly discovering some more now, since the car seemed entirely springless and at the speed at which they were travelling it needed all her concentration to cling on to her seat.
“Shocking bit of road!” Duncan McRey observed as he negotiated the last corner before reaching the village. “Springs in this car aren’t too good either. Perhaps after all it might have been kinder to let you go by train.”
Jill was beginning to think exactly the same thing, but as they reached a stretch of main road she found herself settling down more comfortably. Even now his driving was far too indicative of the man for her to be completely at ease. He seemed to be tearing up the mileage with exactly the same ruthlessness with which he tackled mo
st things.
“Are you fairly comfortable?”
Since he had inserted “fairly” she was glad to be able to reply with reasonable truth. “Yes, thanks, it’s certainly less bumpy now.”
“This is a pretty awful car. I bought it years ago, when I held my first appointment in Glasgow. In those days I had little money but plenty of time, which I spent going round the car showrooms and making up my mind what model I’d buy if I ever had the cash. Now I have got the cash all right, but I haven’t the time to go and see about it!”
Jill couldn’t help laughing. This seemed to be yet another side of his nature, a childlike quality quite out of keeping with his general make up. “I rather think that necessity will force the issue soon. Surely the radiator ought not to steam in this cold atmosphere?”
“I expect it’s leaking again.” He spoke without any sign of concern. It was obviously a contretemps to which he was accustomed. “May as well get on until it really boils.”
“Nice to think that something can boil on a night like this!” Jill rubbed her frozen feet one against the other in an attempt to restore circulation, but the irony of her remark was obviously lost on her companion, and when he spoke his tone was one of surprise.
To Please the Doctor Page 11
