by Betty Neels
She had shown her surprise, and he had said quickly, ‘I wanted to look up the treatment for Mr Gregg’s pigs—I seem to have got hold of the wrong file.’ He gave her an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry about that, but there is rather a lot to cope with all at once…’
Her sudden feeling of suspicion faded. ‘That’s all right; I think you’re managing beautifully. It must be very difficult, taking over at a moment’s notice. The treatment files are on the second shelf. You’ll find the pigs under G—Miss Scott is a wizard at keeping things in order.’
‘It’s a large practice, too,’ he observed as he put the file back. ‘I can’t think how your father managed on his own; there’s work enough for two at least. Of course, he had you, and I must say you’re as good as any vet.’
She pinkened delightfully and shook her head. ‘But not qualified. When he’s home again he will have to have someone besides myself.’
He said lightly, ‘Well, I might decide that I don’t want to go to Canada, after all.’ He smiled. ‘There’s more than one reason why I might want to stay.’ He was looking at her very intently. ‘A man wants to settle down, you know. I thought that I was footloose and fancy free, and Canada for a year or so seemed the answer, but now I’m not so sure.’
She didn’t pretend not to understand him; it never entered her head to do so. Her colour deepened, but she returned his look honestly.
‘You have only been here a week or so. It’s too soon for you to decide anything.’
He had crossed the room and taken her hand. ‘Dear Beatrice, some things don’t need deciding—they just happen.’
She had lain awake that night for quite some time thinking about him. She had her daydreams like any other young woman, now she was allowing them free rein. Colin liked her, perhaps more than liked; what could be better than a partnership with her father? The practice would stay in the family, they could live nearby, and when her father retired they could stay on in the house and her parents could move to a smaller house in the village. It was almost too good to be true. She allowed common sense to take over for a moment. She wasn’t quite sure that her feeling for Colin was anything stronger than liking; he attracted her, she liked to be with him and she thought about him a lot, but she was still uncertain. She had, naturally enough, fallen in love several times, but she had fallen out of it again without either pain or regret; she wasn’t, truth to tell, quite sure how one was certain that one was in love. She had always imagined that one was quite sure with not a single doubt, but at the back of her mind she had to admit to herself that there were vague doubts she couldn’t put a finger on. Perhaps, she decided, on the edge of sleep, one was never absolutely sure…
The days slid into a week, and then two, and her father was coming home again. Dr Latimer had been to see them again, confident that her father would be almost as good as new, provided he took things easy.
‘And no worry of any kind,’ he advised. ‘No accounts or finance for the moment, and don’t let him get tired. He can advise from his desk, see patients if he wants to, provided that there is someone to do the actual work. But no night calls or sudden emergencies. I’m sure you and Mr Wood will be able to arrange that between you.’
He was in the drawing-room, sitting opposite Beatrice and her mother. ‘He’s settled down nicely?’ He looked at Mrs Browning.
‘Yes.’ Mrs Browning sounded hesitant. ‘In fact he seems to have taken over completely, if you know what I mean, although I’m sure that’s just my fancy.’ She glanced at Beatrice. ‘Beatrice tells me that he’s splendid in the job, and I’m sure we’re very lucky to have him.’ She paused. ‘Only I hope that when Tom gets back home Colin will understand that he will want to take charge again…he behaves rather as though the practice is his.’
Beatrice frowned. ‘I think you’re worrying about nothing, Mother.’ She spoke gently, but there was an edge to her voice. ‘Colin wouldn’t dream of usurping Father’s place.’
She looked at Dr Latimer and found his intent gaze fixed on her and went red. ‘I don’t know what we should have done without him,’ she spoke defensively. ‘I like him—we get on very well.’
She looked away crossly because Dr Latimer was smiling and the smile held mockery.
He went presently with the promise that he would examine Mr Browning at the hospital three weeks later. ‘Dr Stevens knows everything there is to know; if you’re at all worried, let him know, he will deal with any problem and Dr Forbes is close by. I think that you have no further need to worry, provided Mr Browning takes care.’ He shook hands. ‘And remember, no worries or sudden surprises.’
Two days later Mr Browning came home, looking almost as good as new. Dr Forbes called almost as soon as he was home, checked that he hadn’t suffered from the journey, advised him to go slow for a week or two, and told him to be sure and call him if he were needed. On the way out, he stopped to speak to Beatrice. ‘I’m sorry that you and James…’ He coughed. ‘Known each other all your lives; rather took it for granted…’
She came to his rescue. ‘That’s why,’ she told him gently. ‘We’re more like brother and sister, you know; James will realise that when he meets the right girl.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, my dear; I hope that you meet the right man, too.’
Beatrice was almost sure that she had, but she wasn’t going to say so.
Colin was a tower of strength during the next few days. Indeed, she thought worriedly, too much so, for her father was inclined to be irritable at Colin’s assumption of so much of the practice. At least, it wasn’t so much that he had shouldered the major share of it, it was his satisfied air at taking everything upon his shoulders… She longed to tell him this, but she was afraid that if she did he might resent it and leave; something which was the last thing she wished for. He was beginning to fill her life and her thoughts, and it worried her that no one else shared her opinion of him. True, her mother was unfailingly polite and thoughtful for his comfort, but Ella made no secret of her dislike of him, and after the first few days it was only too apparent that her father, while agreeing that he was very good at his job, had no liking for him. This was something which Colin smoothly ignored, for he never mentioned it to her and she had to admire him for that; indeed, in her eyes, he could do very little wrong. He was always charming and kind to her, letting her know in a dozen ways that she mattered. She wished that there was someone who would lend a sympathetic ear to her worries. Dr Latimer would have done very well, she reflected, only he seemed to have disappeared into his own particular busy world, and when her father would go to hospital for an examination, even if he were there, there would be no chance to talk.
But she had her chance. A week or so after her father had returned home, she came in from feeding the animals convalescing behind the surgery, and found him sitting in the garden, stretched out in one of the garden chairs, talking to her father. It was a warm day, and she had been up early to attend to a litter of puppies before she had started on her usual chores. She was hot and tired, her nose shone and her mane of hair had come loose of its plait. Over and above that, her father had been annoyed because Colin had altered a treatment which he had been in the habit of using for years. Life was getting complicated, and now here was Dr Latimer, looking cool and immaculate and faintly amused.
She wished him good morning in a cross voice, which he chose to ignore. ‘Busy?’ he asked unnecessarily. ‘And on such a lovely day, too. Have you been up the hill lately?’
‘I haven’t had the time.’ She bent to pat Knotty’s head as he sat by her father. ‘Have you come to see Father?’ She frowned at his amused look. ‘I mean, to examine him?’
‘No, that will come in a week’s time. Besides, he looks pretty fit to me. I was coming this way and I had half an hour to spare.’
They had had coffee; she longed for a cup herself and said, still cross, ‘It’s a lovely day, as you said. I dare say you will be gone before I get back…’
‘You have surely fini
shed for the morning in the surgery?’ asked her father. ‘We always had half an hour to ourselves before I did my rounds. I see no reason to change my ways—’
Dr Latimer interposed smoothly, ‘Come back here when you’ve done your hair or whatever; we might take a stroll. You look as though you need a little time to yourself.’ He met her vexed look with a placid blue stare, so that she found herself agreeing…
She felt more in tune with her world when she had done her face and brushed her hair. She ran down to the kitchen and drank a glass of lemonade her mother was making, and, much refreshed, went into the garden again.
‘That’s better,’ observed Dr Latimer. ‘Shall we go and look at the world from the top of the hill? Knotty is dying for a walk. So is Mabel.’
‘Mabel?’ Beatrice just stopped herself in time from asking who is Mabel? She followed him out into the lane. His wife? A small daughter? A girlfriend? Not possible, he would never have left them sitting in the car.
Mabel, she discovered as they reached the car, was an amiable Labrador, lolling on the front seat by the open window.
‘Oh, why didn’t you bring her in?’ cried Beatrice.
‘She hasn’t met Knotty, and they might have romped around and disturbed your father. Besides, she rather fancies herself guarding the steering-wheel…’
He let the dog out and Mabel was made much of before trotting off ahead of them with the amiable Knotty at her heels. The doctor strolled along in a comfortable silence, and Beatrice’s ill temper left her. They had begun their climb up the hill before he asked, ‘Something’s wrong? Tell me about it.’
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to unburden herself to him, and it all came out in a muddle of doubts: her father’s scarcely concealed antipathy towards Colin, Ella’s frank dislike. ‘And it’s all so unfair,’ she mumbled. ‘He works so hard—you have no idea…’ The doctor, who had a very good idea of what hard work was like, merely made a soothing sound, and she went on, ‘He manages so well, he’s even gone through the books with Miss Scott. She didn’t want him to, but he said he had to know as much about the practice as possible.’
‘The books? You mean the appointments and the various cases?’
‘Oh, those too—no, the account books. Just to get some idea, he explained; he’s very conscientious…’
‘And you like him.’ It was a statement, not a question.
She said defiantly, ‘Yes, I do—he’s—he’s young and alive and he’s—well—fun.’
‘Of course,’ the doctor’s voice was just sufficiently sympathetic. ‘I dare say he’s ambitious too.’
‘Oh, yes—he wants his own practice, but of course he’s only been qualified for two years and he hasn’t the capital.’
Dr Latimer was surveying the landscape below them. ‘He’s young enough to work for that,’ he commented, ‘and he’ll be the better for it.’
She agreed doubtfully; Colin wasn’t a man to wait for what he wanted, but it seemed disloyal to say so.
The silence between them lengthened, until she said slowly, ‘I did wonder if Father would make him a partner…’
The doctor’s gaze was still on the scenery. ‘It’s early days yet,’ he counselled. ‘Give him time to—er—er—discover Colin’s worth.’
She said gratefully, ‘You’re such a nice person to talk to. I’ve been wanting to talk to someone; I can’t worry Mother, Ella’s too young—besides, she doesn’t like Colin—and Kathy and Carol aren’t at home.’ She added quickly, ‘I don’t want advice…’
‘Regard me as an uncle or an elder brother—I’ll promise never to advise you, Beatrice. But for what it’s worth, I’ll listen.’
She gave him a grateful look. ‘Thank you. I think I’m a bit muddled.’
‘Things have a way of sorting themselves out,’ he pointed out comfortably. He whistled to the dogs. ‘I would like to stay longer, but I must get back to town.’
‘To the hospital?’
They started down the hill with the dogs racing ahead. ‘I have an out-patients session this afternoon…’
She asked, for something to say, ‘You don’t work in the evenings?’
‘Sometimes.’ He smiled. ‘This evening I’m giving myself the pleasure of dining out.’
‘Is she pretty?’
He cast her a sidelong glance. ‘Yes, extremely so.’
For some reason his answer annoyed her: she said pettishly, ‘Oh, that’s nice; I dare say she has lots of time to buy lovely clothes and have her hair done…’
His smile was instantly suppressed. ‘Indeed, yes. She is one of the lilies of the field—neither toils nor spins.’ He added blandly, ‘She dances delightfully.’
‘Then I expect you will have a simply wonderful time.’ Beatrice spoke with something of a snap.
They were turning into the drive and she said, ‘I must check on Mrs Sim’s cat; there should be kittens some time today.’ She stopped and held out a hand. ‘Thank you for letting me talk. It must all seem very petty to you after your life and death work.’
‘No. Life is never petty, Beatrice.’ He put up a finger and gently tapped her cheek. ‘I hope the kittens arrive safely.’
He went on towards the house, leaving her feeling that she had had something taken away from her.
But she forgot that almost at once. Mrs Sim’s Siamese was about to produce her kittens and Beatrice stayed with her until four tiny creatures were tucked up against their proud mother, who squinted at Beatrice and purred her delight before accepting the milk and chopped liver she was offered. By the time Beatrice got back to the house there was no sign of Dr Latimer. She hadn’t expected him to be there; all the same, she felt disappointment, quickly forgotten when Colin got back from his visit to an outlying farm.
The afternoon clinic was short; she cleared up after it, and since there was an hour or so in which there was little to do she suggested to Colin that they might go for a walk.
‘My dear, I have a mass of paperwork to get through— Miss Scott overlooked some accounts, and I’m trying to sort them out.’
‘Accounts? That’s not like her.’ Beatrice leaned over the desk and took a look. ‘Oh, you don’t have to bother about those—Father won’t send those in for a few months—Bruton’s Farm had bad luck with their sheep this year and the bill is enormous; they’ll pick up again, but they’ve got to live in the meantime. And these—’ she sorted through a handful ‘—they’re all smallholders who are only just beginning to make things pay. They won’t get their accounts for another six months.’
She picked up the small sheaf of papers and put them tidily back on the shelf.
Colin frowned. ‘But that’s not the way to run a successful practice; if they use the vet, they must pay for him.’
‘And so they do, the moment that they can afford to.’ She added coolly, ‘It’s Father’s practice, Colin.’
He got up from behind the desk and came to stand by her. ‘My dear girl, I had no intention of interfering. I’m sorry—I wanted to help.’
He smiled at her apologetically and she forgave him at once; she was half in love with him, she supposed, and it was difficult to resist his charm. She said, ‘That’s all right—come and see the kittens. They’re a nice little bunch. Mrs Sims will be delighted—she relies on breeding them to help out her pension.’
She forgot, or almost forgot, the small episode, and a week went by like most weeks; plenty of work mitigated by her father’s rapid recovery and glorious weather. Kathy’s wedding was only a few days away, and the whole house was in cheerful turmoil, with Mrs Perry polishing and helping out in the kitchen, a marquee erected in the garden and a great deal of toing and froing by the ladies of the household, trying on their wedding outfits and experimenting with hair-styles. But somehow they managed to create a quiet oasis around Mr Browning, who was left to sit peacefully in the garden or his study. He was beginning to take an interest in the practice once more, and expected Colin to see him each day so that they might
discuss the various animals to be seen and treated. And outwardly, at least, Colin appeared to welcome this, although several times he changed the treatment Mr Browning had ordered and did what he wished to do. He was careful not to let this be known, and since he was a good vet no harm came to his patients, but he derived satisfaction from edging his way deeper and deeper into the practice. Another few months and he hoped Mr Browning might accept him as a partner, even though he had no money to put into the practice. In the meantime he was pleasant to everyone, worked hard and remained the best of friends with Beatrice.
The weather held, and Mrs Browning’s secret nightmare, that it might rain on the wedding day and spoil all her careful arrangements, melted before blue sky and bright sunshine. The caterers arrived, the wedding cake was carefully set on its stand and the bouquets were delivered.
Beatrice had got up earlier than usual; wedding or no wedding, the animals needed attention. She had a hurried breakfast in the kitchen and went to her room, poking her head round Kathy’s door as she went.
Kathy looked beautiful, and Beatrice said so before tearing off to have a shower and get into her bridesmaid’s dress, which was of pale rose wild silk, the long skirt veiled with chiffon, the bodice quite plain, the ballooning sleeves ending at the elbow in tight bands. It was a style which suited Carol and Ella as well as herself. She took pains with her hair, winding it into a chignon and fastening the little wreath of silk roses around it. Surveying herself in the pier glass in her mother’s room, she hoped that Colin would approve…
There were a lot of guests; the Brownings had lived in the village for several generations and they were liked; besides, Kathy’s bridegroom came from a large family. The village church, half-way up the main street, was packed with best summer dresses and morning-suits with a fair sprinkling of villagers in new hats and stiff white collars. Beatrice, with Ella and Carol, waiting in the porch for her sister and her father to arrive, was gratified to see that all those who had the use of their legs had come to watch the bride go to her wedding.
