“Whew!” I said aloud, and then grimaced. If the rest of the people of the district were as sour-tempered as he had been, life was going to be grim indeed. Imagine having him for a patient! I let myself imagine the situation, me sitting in surgery ringing the bell for the next patient, and seeing that man march in. What would I do? I chuckled. Make him undress to be examined, I promised. That would soon puncture his precious dignity!
I looked at my watch. Twelve-thirty - the train was due into Tetherdown in another twenty minutes or so, so I took myself along the corridor to the washroom, tidied my make-up, and made myself look as neat as I could. Perhaps I should have worn clothes a little less fashionable, I thought doubtfully, looking at myself in the little mirror, at the Mary Quant coat over a culotte dress and white tights and bowed patent leather shoes. Maybe they’ll think I look too frivolous to be a good doctor.
And then I put my tongue out at the mirror and said aloud: “Phooey! Begin as you mean to go on. I may be doing a dreary job, but it doesn’t mean I have to look like a drear -”
When the train drew in, I waited a few minutes before pulling my luggage from the rack and getting out. I didn’t want to bump into Sour Face again, thank you very much; and he might be somewhere in the corridor.
It was a small station, with just two lines, and as I dropped my luggage on to the platform, the train shrieked and pulled out again on its way further north, and I looked round curiously.
It was rather a nice-looking station, with a few late snowdrops growing in the flowerbed by the station master’s office, and there was a clean country smell in the air. At least it isn’t a dirty town, I told myself optimistically, and humping my bags, made my way to the exit.
Outside there was a wide cobbled yard with a couple of private cars parked in it, and a row of taxis. I just saw the bad-tempered man climb into one of them as I came blinking out into the sunshine, and fell back so that he shouldn’t see me. So he did belong to Tetherdown, instead of further up the line! I giggled to myself. Maybe he would turn out to be a patient after all!
And then I heard a shout, and turning, saw a small black car coming into the yard, passing the taxi bearing my fellow passenger away. Dr Redmond was leaning out of the window, driving awkwardly with one hand as he waved at me. He drew up beside me, and got out, wreathed in smiles.
“Well, my dear, well, well! Sorry to be so late - hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, but I had to make a visit on the way -” and he began to load my luggage into the car.
“Oh, how nice of you to meet me!” I said. “You really shouldn’t have bothered. I could have taken a taxi.”
“Not at all, not at all!” he cried, busily helping me into the car. “Can’t let you arrive in Tetherdown without welcoming you properly. Glad to have you, you know. Very glad to have you indeed.”
He climbed in beside me, and started the car with a roar, and then we were off, going through the town at a breakneck speed. I peered out eagerly, trying to get some idea of what the place looked like. I got a brief impression of broad streets, lots of trees just showing the first tender green of spring, a wide central square dominated by a soaringly beautiful church, a busy shopping street, its narrow pavements crowded with people, many of whom waved at the car as we passed.
My spirits lifted, for this was a pretty town, clean and cheerful and not the dismal half-dead place I had feared it would be. I turned to Dr Redmond who had been chattering busily ever since we had left the station.
“- introduce you to the other partners,” he was saying. “Hope you’ll like them. There’s just one small detail, of course. Perhaps I should have mentioned - oh, well, can’t be helped. Thing is, I haven’t told ‘em much about you. They’re good men, both of them, excellent men, but, well, you know how it is.”
He peered at me a little vaguely and then returned his attention to the road. “I - er I haven’t mentioned that you’re a girl, d’you see. I’m the oldest partner - the senior - but I’ve no prejudices about women in medicine - none at all. Wouldn’t have appointed you if I had ‘em, would I? No. But the other two - well, I just don’t know. We’ve never discussed it, d’you see. But I daresay there’ll be no problems. They’ll be delighted to see you - delighted. We’ve been sorely overworked lately, what with the influenza epidemic, and the sudden rise in the birthrate.”
He chuckled. “I swear we’ve had every young couple in the town deciding to enlarge their families this spring. The maternity side of the practice never stops! And with all those babies - well, that was the thing about you that most pleased me. We need someone who likes babies and children, understands ‘em, d’you see. I’m getting too old for them, and Max and Peter - well - haven’t the same touch you’ll have, m’dear.”
I began to feel better than ever. Not only a pretty town and a pleasant man to work with (for I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Dr Redmond was a darling) but plenty of the sort of work I liked best. Perhaps life as a general practitioner in Tetherdown wasn’t going to be too bad after all!
The car turned left, away from the busy town centre and then swung right into the driveway of a big house, built of soft red brick, with mullioned windows, and ivy growing along its broad walls. There were wide flowerbeds filled with shrubs and a few daffodils starred the lawn under a venerable beech tree. I warmed to the place at sight.
“And here we are at Downlands, m’dear,” Dr Redmond said, drawing up with a flourish in front of the wide door, just alongside a taxi that was parked before it.
“I have a wing for my own use, the surgeries are here in the centre of the house, and the top floor is Peter’s - Dr Cooper and his wife. Max - Dr Lester - he has the converted coach house for his home -”
He got out of the car, and I followed him, just as the taxi drove off, leaving its passenger on the doorstep. I stared at him in horror. It was the man I’d so unfortunately encountered on the train.
“Hello!” Dr Redmond said, surprised. “Where’s the car?”
“Blasted clutch went - stranded me in Fenbridge. Had to take the train back,” the big man said, staring at me with a marked frown between his eyebrows.
“Oh, bad luck,” Dr Redmond clucked, his round old face creased in sympathy. “But I’m forgetting my manners! My dear -” He turned to me. “May I present my partner, Dr Max Lester?”
He smiled at Max and said: “Max, this is Dr Phillipa Fenwick, our new assistant. I’m sure you’ll get on famously -”
Looking at the expression of horrified disbelief on Dr Lester’s face, my heart sank. I wished I could be as sure of that as Dr Redmond, I thought ruefully, as I held out my hand to one of my new partners.
CHAPTER TWO
I sat in the Coopers’ drawing-room, a glass of very good sherry in my hand, and listened to Dr Redmond bumbling on about the state of the practice, while I looked round and sorted out my impressions.
Max Lester was sitting sprawled on the window seat, staring gloomily out at the gardens, turning his sherry glass in his hands.
He’d brushed aside my renewed apologies for the incident on the train, had scowled alarmingly as I explained, in response to Dr Redmond’s demands for understanding, what had happened. And when Dr Redmond had thrown back his white head and laughed uproariously as I described what happened (and I hadn’t been able to resist being a little malicious, making more than I need of the absurdity of Max’s position on the floor of the carriage) he had produced a wintry smile that he’d turned off like a light as soon as he could. Oh, undoubtedly, Max Lester wasn’t a bit pleased at having a woman - especially one like me - joining the practice.
My gaze shifted to Peter Cooper, sitting beside Dr Redmond, his head bent attentively towards the older man. Now, he was far from sorry to see me, I decided, and then he looked up and caught my eye, and smiled broadly. I smiled back, noticing the way his face seemed younger when he looked relaxed.
He was a dapper man, fair and good-looking, about - oh, forty or so, I thought. I felt his eyes li
nger on me, and embarrassed, I looked away. I’m not conceited, but I know when a man thinks I’m attractive. And there was no doubt Peter Cooper approved of me in no uncertain terms.
My glance slid across to Judith Cooper, his wife. She was sitting on a low stool, her back to the wall by the huge stone fireplace where pine logs burned aromatically, her dark brooding stare fixed on me. She looked away as I caught her eye, at her husband, and then back at me again, and as clearly as if she had spoken. I realized that she too had noticed Peter’s response to me.
I blushed suddenly and hotly, and cursed myself for it. It was absurd the way I coloured up like a child at the least thing. At my age, I should have grown out of it.
Judith moved, reaching for the decanter of sherry which was conveniently placed on a small table beside her. As she refilled her glass, Peter’s voice cut across sharply, interrupting Dr Redmond, which surprised me. Peter Cooper didn’t strike me as an ill-mannered man. If it had been Max Lester, now -
“Judith, how are we progressing towards lunch? I’ve got a clinic at two, I’m afraid, and time is running on -”
Judith drank quickly, emptying her glass at a gulp, and then got up, and moving in a rather slouchy way, went across the big room towards the door. The light from the wide windows lit her clearly as she passed them, showing the early lines on her face, the hollow cheeks and hint of scragginess about her neck. But she had a lovely figure, and I wondered why she looked so sulky. She couldn’t be more than, what, thirty-five or so? Why did she seem so old and tired? Clearly, Judith Cooper was a person about whom I had a lot to discover.
“I’ll see what’s happening,” she said huskily, and disappeared through the door.
There was a short silence, and then Peter Cooper said with a sort of forced cheerfulness: “Well, Dr Fenwick -”
“Oh, please,” I said. “Don’t be so formal - not if we’re to work together. My friends call me Pippa - won’t you? All of you?” and I looked round at the three of them.
“A charming short version of a charming name,” Dr Redmond said. “And I for one am delighted to call you by it. But I’m old-fashioned enough to prefer being called Dr Redmond.”
He chuckled. “Truth to tell, my first name is so ghastly I never use it,” he said in a confiding tone. “Cedric! I ask you!”
Peter and I laughed, and then Peter said: “And my friends, Pippa, call me Peter. You shall too.”
“Thank you - Peter,” I said, and looked across at Max Lester, but he hadn’t moved, and still sat staring moodily out of the window. Oh, all right, I thought. Be a misery if you want to. One of these days you’ll get over your sulks, I suppose -
“- have you made any decision about where to live?” Peter was saying, and I turned and stared at him in consternation.
“Oh, my goodness,” I said, and bit my lip. “I must have lived in hospital too long - I never thought about it! Just took it for granted that I’d live with the job. I’d forgotten this was general practice.”
“And what’s wrong with general practice?” Max Lester’s voice cut across harshly, and I turned and stared at him.
“I beg your pardon?” I said.
“You speak as though general practice were something too lowly to be worthy of your consideration. Is that how you feel about it?”
“I don’t think I sounded as rude as that!” I retorted, nettled. “Of course, I’m not going to pretend I regard general practice in the same light as I would my chosen speciality, but -”
“But it makes a tolerable second-best, is that it?”
“I didn’t say that,” I said furiously. “I only meant -”
“I can imagine what you meant.” Lester stood up and stared at me with insulting chilliness. “You meant what all hospital-centred people mean. That general practice is a backwater, that all the worthwhile people are working in high-powered hospitals, and that only dreary also-rans like my colleagues and myself waste their time in it.”
I reddened again - I couldn’t help it. Wasn’t that just what I’d been thinking in the train? But to hear it hurled at me in this way, in front of people who were devoting their lives to the job was deeply embarrassing.
“Now, now, Max, easy does it,” Peter Cooper said, at the same time that Dr Redmond spoke, getting to his feet.
“Come on, Max, you need your lunch. Get you mounted on that hobby horse of yours and we’ll be here all day -”
The awkwardness passed, and grateful to Dr Redmond, I stood up too. Peter Cooper came across the room to stand beside me.
“We still haven’t solved the problem, though, have we? Where you’re to live?” He smiled down at me from his six foot height and went on: “I must talk to Judith about this -”
“About what?” Judith’s husky voice made me jump and turn away from Peter almost guiltily - which was silly, as there was nothing to feel guilty about.
She was standing by the door to the dining-room, staring at us. “About somewhere for Pippa to live in Tetherdown,” Peter said easily. “Look, Judy, couldn’t she have the turret room? It’s standing empty, and why not have it used? If Pippa would like it, I’m sure she’d be excellent company for us -” and he turned and smiled at me.
I was still looking at Judith’s face, and as Peter said “the turret room”, it changed, seemed to sag and look suddenly old. But it was a passing thing, for then it settled again into its original petulant look.
“The turret room,” she said, after a moment. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. No point in leaving it empty any longer, is there?”
Peter looked at her and said, with an oddly gentle note in his voice, “No, Judy. None at all. So shall Pippa have it?”
“Why not?” and then she tried to smile, and I warmed to her a little. Whatever it was that made this woman so strange, I thought, it wasn’t sheer nastiness. She’s unhappy. And I was almost surprised at the thought.
“Yes, you shall have it,” she said. “As Peter says, it would be company for us - we do get a little lonely sometimes -”
She crossed the room, and poured another glass of sherry for herself. “More sherry, anybody?” No one answered, so she drank quickly, and then said: “Well, lunch is ready. Come and get it while it’s hot -” and she led the way into the charming small dining-room that overlooked the front of the house, with tendrils of ivy growing round the window frame.
Lunch was a pleasant meal, with good food well cooked. I ate hungrily, enjoying the lamb cutlets and crisp fried potatoes and broccoli Judith offered. There was cherry pie and fresh thick cream, and as we lingered over steaming hot coffee I sighed and said happily: “I did enjoy that. Thank you - er - Mrs Cooper.”
“Judith,” Peter said. “No formalities if you’re going to be one of the family. Eh, Judith?”
“Of course,” Judith said, and then without looking at me went on: “Would anyone care for a little brandy with their coffee? No? I think perhaps I shall -”
I noticed Peter’s brows crack down sharply into a frown, and I suddenly realized what it was about Judith that had been at the back of my mind. Of course. She drank so much more than the rest of us. I’d had one small glass of sherry, as had Peter and Dr Redmond and Dr Lester. But she had had at least four brimming glassfuls, and now, brandy. Was this her problem, the cause of the oddness I had noticed about her? It seemed likely.
“I must get to my clinic,” Peter said, putting down his coffee cup. “And you’re doing the afternoon visits, Max?”
“Yes,” Max said. “How many?”
“Barbara left the list on my desk. Help yourself,” Peter said. “And you can use my car until yours comes back from Fenbridge.”
1 With a muttered “excuse me” to the rest of us, Max Lester left the room, and I felt a good deal more comfortable once he’d gone. His disapproval of me had been like something you could touch, it had been so strong.
“I’ll bring your cases up now, Pippa, and you can unpack later,” Peter said. “Perhaps you’d like to sit in on my clinic
this afternoon. Get the feel of the place, hmmm? That all right with you, Judith?”
“Yes - I suppose so,” Judith muttered, and put her hand out to the brandy decanter again. I caught Peter’s warning look at her and she dropped her hand.
“Well, I’m taking the afternoon off,” Dr Redmond said, getting to his feet. “Old man’s privilege. Going over to the Agricultural College to see my boy, Jeremy.” He smiled at me. “You must meet him, Pippa, soon. Nice boy, though I say it myself. Image of his mother - pity she died before he grew up. Ah, well, water under the bridge, water under the bridge.”
I thanked Judith for lunch, and tried to say how happy I was to be living with them - for indeed, the thought of having a room in this lovely house was much more attractive than having to find digs somewhere in the town - but she hardly responded, just sitting amidst the remains of lunch with a sulky look on her dark face.
Peter showed me to the turret room, which was indeed lovely. Perfectly round, with two deep windows facing each other, a pretty four-poster bed and delicate white and gold trimmed furniture.
“It’s enchanting!” I said, as Peter set my cases down. “Fit for a princess in a fairy tale!”
Peter’s face lost its relaxed look, and he stood very still, looking round. Then he sighed and said: “That was what it was meant for -”
I looked puzzled, and he said a little wearily: “We had a baby daughter. She would have been - almost nine if she’d lived. But she died at three months - meningitis. Judith, well, Judith hasn’t been the same since. We knew she could never have any more babies, after little Emma was born, and when - when she died, part of Judith died with her.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said, and impulsively put my hand on his arm. He smiled down at me, and closed his own hand over mine.
“It’s sweet of you to be so sympathetic,” he said. “Of course, it’s not so bad for me. I’ve got my work, but Judith - she has nothing. She just sits, and broods - I’ve tried to persuade her to find some sort of outside interest, but there - she won’t or can’t. So - she -” he swallowed. “You must have noticed. Everyone does. She drinks too much. She can’t help it, and it could be worse, I suppose. I mean, she’s never - incapable.”
The Doctors of Downlands Page 2
