by Betty Neels
Dr Latimer went away presently, excusing himself on the grounds of a brief consultation with Dr Stevens, leaving them to drink coffee a nursing aide had brought them.
They said goodbye to their mother when he returned, and he drove them back to Hindley, to share the sandwiches which Mrs Perry had made and write his phone number down for Beatrice, with the reminder that she was to phone him as soon as she had an applicant to be interviewed. He wished them all a cheerful goodbye, and for Beatrice at least the house seemed very empty when he had gone.
But she had little time to sit and be sorry for herself; the most pressing necessity was for someone to carry on the practice while her father was away. While her sisters scattered to do the various jobs around the house, she went to the study, found the address of the agency her father had always used and phoned them.
It had been a miserable day so far, now lightened somewhat by the news that there was a newly qualified vet on their books who might be exactly what Beatrice was looking for. An appointment was made for the following day, and she went to find her sisters and tell them the good news.
‘If he can come straight away, we shan’t need to hand over too many of father’s regular accounts. I can manage the surgery for a few more days, and we’ll just have to go on as usual. I expect Mother will come home as soon as Father is out of danger.’
She spoke with a confidence she didn’t feel, although Dr Latimer had told her with quiet certainty that her father would recover.
Dr Latimer phoned again around teatime; Mr Browning was showing a steady improvement, their mother would stay the night at the hospital, but if everything was satisfactory in the morning she would return home by lunchtime. ‘Everything all right your end?’ he wanted to know.
‘Yes, oh, yes, we’re managing. There’s someone coming from the agency tomorrow morning, about eleven o’clock.’
‘I’ll be with you before then.’ He hung up with a brief goodbye.
Tired out with anxiety and worry, they all slept soundly, but Beatrice was up soon after six o’clock, to let Knotty out into the garden, feed the cat, Wilbur, and make a cup of tea. Perhaps it was too early to ring the hospital, she decided, and then changed her mind, knowing that she wouldn’t be content until she had news of her father.
He was continuing to improve, said Night Sister; they hoped to take him off the life-support machine very shortly, and perhaps Beatrice would like to telephone later in the day.
Beatrice drank her tea and set about the day’s chores. There were several cats and dogs convalescing behind the surgery; she attended to them, fed Knotty a dish of tea and the bread and butter he fancied for his breakfast, and then went to wake the others.
Breakfast was almost a cheerful meal. ‘I’ll wait and see Mother,’ said Carol, ‘and then if everything is all right I’ll go back—I can go straight to the hospital if—if I have to.’
‘And I’d better go back, too,’ decided Kathy, ‘but you’ll let me know at once if I’m wanted?’
Beatrice looked at Ella. ‘You’d better go to school, love—Father will be disappointed if you don’t do well in your exams. Yes, I know you don’t want to—supposing we wait until Mother gets here and I drive you back in time for this afternoon’s paper—biology, isn’t it? Father would be so proud if you got good marks for that.’
Beatrice was clearing away after surgery when her mother arrived, and with her Dr Latimer. Her mother kissed her and said quickly, ‘Oliver brought me back—such a good man and so clever. Your father’s going to be all right, and we have Oliver to thank for that. He’ll stay if you want him to just to cast an eye over this locum you’ve arranged to see.’
‘You didn’t mind me seeing to that, Mother? We must keep the practice going well until Father can take over once again.’
‘I’m only too thankful that you were here to deal with everything.’
She turned round as Dr Latimer came in with her case, and Beatrice said, ‘I’ll get Mrs Perry to bring in the coffee; there’s still half an hour before that man comes.’
She smiled at him and thought how tired he looked—she had thought of him as a youngish man, but he looked pale and lined in the morning light. She was too worried about her father to bother much about the doctor; she went off to the kitchen and laid a tray while Mrs Perry made the coffee and got out the biscuits. By the time Beatrice got back, the other three were there as well as Miss Scott, and since everyone had a good deal to say and a great many questions to ask no one noticed that the doctor was rather quiet.
The doorbell interrupted them. ‘You go, dear,’ said Mrs Browning. ‘You know as much about the practice as your father. Do what you think best.’
By the time Beatrice had reached the front door, Dr Latimer was beside her. ‘The study?’ he asked, and went there while she went to the front door.
Worried though she was, she couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised by the sight of the young man on the doorstep. James Forbes was young, too, but thick-set and slow and pompous; and Dr Latimer, regretfully, seemed a lot older than she had at first thought. This man was splendidly different. She blushed faintly at allowing her thoughts to stray so frivolously. Guilt made her voice stiff. ‘Mr Wood? Will you come in?’
He smiled at her, self-possessed and charming. ‘Miss Browning? The agency did explain…’ They shook hands and she led the way across the hall to her father’s study, where Dr Latimer stood looking out of the window.
He turned round as they went in, and she introduced them. ‘Please sit down, Mr Wood—would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘I stopped in Salisbury, thanks.’ He glanced quickly at the doctor, who met his look with a bland one of his own. ‘I understand your father needs a locum for a month or two. I’m planning to go to Canada in the near future, so perhaps we might suit each other.’
He smiled at Beatrice, who smiled back; he was really rather nice and they might get on well together… She explained about the practice. ‘I have been helping my father for several years; I’m not trained, but I do a good deal round the surgery and help with operations.’
He asked all the right questions and she had time to study him. He was good-looking, with dark hair curling over his collar, pale blue eyes and a delightful smile. She found herself hoping very much that he would take the job.
Dr Latimer had said almost nothing, and she thought pettishly that he might just as well not be there; he was certainly giving her no advice. Not that she would have taken it; when Colin Wood suggested that he might start in two days’ time, she agreed with a readiness which made the doctor raise his eyebrows, but since she wasn’t looking at him that escaped her notice.
Only as she was explaining the working hours and when he might expect to have some free time did the doctor ask gently, ‘References?’
‘Oh, of course.’ Colin Wood shot him an annoyed look, and turned it into a smile as Beatrice looked up. He fished in a pocket and produced an envelope which the doctor took from him before Beatrice could do so. He read the small sheaf of papers closely, murmured, ‘Entirely satisfactory,’ and handed them back again. ‘Were you thinking of a contract of any sort?’ he asked casually.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Beatrice sharply, ‘if we have a gentleman’s agreement.’ She looked at Colin Wood. ‘You are prepared to work here until my father can manage without help?’
‘Oh, of course,’ he said easily, and laughed. ‘There, I’ve said that before a witness—what more can you want?’
‘Would you like to see over the clinic?’ offered Beatrice. ‘And your room—there’s a small sitting-room you can have, too.’
He rose with alacrity. ‘May I?’ He turned to Dr Latimer. ‘I’ll say goodbye, sir. I’ll have to go straight back and pack my things.’
They didn’t shake hands; the doctor bade him a grave goodbye and stood watching them from the window as they crossed the wide sweep of gravel to the surgery on its far side.
Presently he went back to the dra
wing-room where Mrs Browning was sitting with the three girls.
‘You approve?’ asked Mrs Browning.
‘He has excellent credentials and, what is more important, Beatrice likes him. He can come in two days’ time.’
‘You’ll stay for lunch?’
He shook his head. ‘I would very much like to, but I want to take another look at Mr Browning before I go back to town. But I’ll be down again and I will keep in touch with Dr Stevens.’
‘You’ll wait to say goodbye to Beatrice?’
‘Will you do that for me? I’m glad that things have been settled so quickly.’ He shook hands and within a few minutes had driven away; a few minutes later Beatrice came in with Colin Wood, who was introduced to them all before saying that he simply had to go but looked forward to seeing them again in a couple of days.
Beatrice saw him away in his showy little sports car, and went back to her mother and sisters.
‘Where’s Dr Latimer?’ she asked, and in the same breath, ‘Well, did you like him? I think he’ll be splendid—’
‘Oliver,’ said Mrs Browning gently, ‘has gone back to check on your father’s condition, then he is driving up to London, presumably to work at one of the hospitals. I only hope that he gets a rest during the day; he was up all night…’
‘All night? Oh, I didn’t know; that must have been why he was so quiet.’
Her mother said drily, ‘Probably. You’re satisfied that Mr Wood will do all right, darling?’
Beatrice nodded. ‘Oh, yes, Mother. I’m sure he will, and he doesn’t want a contract or agreement or anything in writing; he plans to go to Canada in a few months and wouldn’t want to stay anyway. He says there aren’t many good openings for a man without capital. He’s ambitious.’
‘I didn’t like him,’ said Ella suddenly.
‘Why ever not?’
‘I don’t know—I just didn’t like him.’
‘Well, that doesn’t really matter, for you’ll not see much of him.’ Beatrice spoke with unusual tartness. ‘There’s the phone—Father…’
It was Dr Stevens. ‘Your father is recovering well, phone here for news some time in the evening. There is no need for your mother to come again today; she needs a rest anyway. Dr Latimer will be down to see him tomorrow afternoon. I suggest your mother comes then, and she can talk to him then about your father.’
‘I’ll tell her. Thank you for all you are doing, Dr Stevens.’
‘It’s Dr Latimer that you should thank—we had a very anxious few hours during the night, but he dealt with the complications. He’s a very sound man, you know; you were lucky to have him.’
‘We are very grateful,’ said Beatrice, and put down the receiver slowly. Of course they were grateful, and she felt suddenly guilty because, in the pleasure of meeting Colin Wood, she had forgotten the doctor.
She did her best to make up for it the following afternoon. She and her mother had visited her father, who was conscious now and feebly cheerful, and then they were ushered into Sister’s office, where Dr Latimer and Dr Stevens were murmuring thoughtfully together. They turned impassive faces towards them as they went in, shook hands and offered chairs.
‘Well,’ began Dr Latimer, ‘your husband is coming along very nicely, Mrs Browning, but it will be a slow job—you do realise that? We’ll keep him here for a week or two, and when you get him home he will have to take things easily for some time.’ He smiled then, and Beatrice thought once again what a very nice man he was.
She said, ‘We are truly grateful to you, Dr Latimer. We can never repay you…’
‘My patient’s recovery is payment enough, Beatrice,’ he told her coolly, and for some reason she felt snubbed, not by his words but by his manner—perhaps in hospital he was impersonal to everyone, but he wasn’t the man who had watched the sunrise with her on Midsummer’s morning, or if he were he was taking care to hide it.
She accompanied her mother back home, and after they had all had tea Carol left to go back to her rooms in Salisbury and Kathy went off with her fiancé. ‘In the morning you can go back to school, Ella,’ said Mrs Browning. ‘The house will seem empty.’
‘Mr Wood will be here,’ observed Beatrice, and felt a little surge of excitement.
CHAPTER THREE
COLIN WOOD arrived the following morning with a great deal of luggage, several tennis rackets and a set of golf clubs. He was charming, too, and offered to start work at once.
‘Well,’ said Beatrice, ‘I must say that’s nice of you—I saw to morning surgery—there wasn’t anything I couldn’t manage by myself, but Mr Dobson—he has a big farm a mile or two down the road—wants someone this afternoon. He’s not quite happy about a cow due to calve. I told him you might be here in time to go.’
‘Splendid, that gives us time to go through the appointments book. I’ll unpack, shall I?’
He breezed away to his room and Mrs Browning watched him go with a faint frown. ‘He’s very—very self-assured…’
‘A good thing, Mother dear. We must keep this practice going until Father can get back.’ She gave her parent a comforting hug. ‘And he will be; this morning’s report was very reassuring. I’ll get the coffee, then Mr Wood and I can get down to the books.’
She went to bed tired that night, but satisfied with the day. She had driven her mother to the hospital that afternoon, and there was no doubt that her father was better. When they got home again it was to find Mr Wood back from the Dobson’s farm, sitting at her father’s desk in the surgery, checking the appointments for the evening surgery. He had had tea with them but hadn’t sat over it, declaring that he wanted to go through the files and get to know as much as possible quickly. So Beatrice had joined him, showing him as much as she could before surgery started, and then stayed with him to give him a hand with the ease of long competence. And after supper she spent half an hour with him while he looked over the next day’s appointments.
She closed her eyes, happier than she had been for several days. Colin Wood was the perfect answer to their difficulties; what was more, she liked him.
The days fell into a regular pattern again: morning surgery, outside calls, taking Knotty for his walk, helping around the house and taking her mother to see her father each afternoon, and then evening surgery and more work, going through the next day’s appointments. Her father’s practice was a large one, and scattered, and she could see now that he would have to have a partner or at least an assistant other than herself—indeed, he should have had one months ago, for although she acted as his right hand she had no qualifications. She began to hope that when eventually her father came home he would take to the idea of keeping Colin Wood as his partner.
Dr Latimer had come to see them, arriving quietly just as they had finished the afternoon clinic; he didn’t stay long. ‘Mr Browning is doing very well indeed,’ he told Mrs Browning. ‘Another week or ten days and you will have him home again, although you do understand that he must do very little? But there is no reason why he shouldn’t do some desk work if he feels like it.’
He had smiled kindly at Mrs Browning, and added, ‘Of course, Beatrice and Mr Wood will bear the bulk of the work for the moment.’
Beatrice said quickly, ‘Of course, Colin has taken everything over without a hitch.’ She glanced warmly at the young man, and the doctor watched her without appearing to do so.
He said placidly, ‘I’m sure you must feel very grateful to Mr Wood. I take it that everything goes smoothly with your father’s practice?’
Beatrice beamed at him. ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’ And then, feeling that she should show some interest in him as well, ‘Are you very busy? Would you like to stay for supper?’
‘I should like very much to stay,’ he told her, ‘but I must get back to town this evening; I never quite catch up with my work, I’m afraid.’
Colin Wood laughed. ‘You need someone to organise you, like Beatrice, sir. She keeps my nose to the grindstone…’ He smiled across the room at her. It
was full of charm, and held a hint of possessiveness.
The doctor got up to go. ‘I shall be seeing Mr Browning in a few days’ time; I hope I shall have good news for you then.’
He bade Mrs Browning goodbye, nodded to Beatrice and Colin Wood and went away, accompanied by Mrs Browning.
‘Seems a nice enough old boy,’ said Colin when they had gone. ‘A bit slow, but I dare say he’s good at his job.’
Beatrice said sharply, ‘He’s not old, and he’s quick enough when someone’s ill…’
Colin gave her a quick glance. ‘I’m not criticising him; he’s quite famous, isn’t he? I must say he’s been wonderful in his care of your father.’ He added contritely, ‘I shouldn’t have said that he was old—he’s not. Somewhere in his thirties, I should suppose.’ He smiled disarmingly and she forgave him at once. She liked him; that was, she liked him almost all the time. Sometimes he said or did something which struck a note of doubt in her mind, but she forgot that quickly enough. He was beginning to fill her thoughts, so much so that James, when he had encountered her in the village, had been given short shrift and told once and for all that she had no wish to marry him.
‘I’ve been saying so for months,’ she told him reasonably, ‘but you never would listen. But I do mean it, James. We wouldn’t suit, you know you don’t really love me. It’s only because we have seen each other on and off for years and years. And there isn’t anyone else, so you don’t have to mind…’
He hadn’t minded all that much, either, and she felt free at last. Free for what? she asked herself, and immediately thought of Colin.
He was very efficient and he wanted to know as much as possible about the practice. Indeed, one morning after surgery she had gone into her father’s study to fetch something and found him sitting at the desk, looking through the accounts for the previous year with a neat summary made by Miss Scott showing just what the income for the year had been.
