Hospital in the Highlands

by Anne Vinton

  Though Flo Lamont was eager to meet her sisters, she would still have wished that car ride with Robert Strathallan five times as long. With some people it is so easy to be on friendly terms, and this, she told herself, was one such relationship. She had known members of the medical staff to be so conscious of their status that they never encouraged fraternization with lesser fry, who were there simply to carry out their orders. She had also known doctors who—ventriloquist-wise—had one voice which they kept for issuing edicts regarding their patients, and quite another that was used for whispering compliments into the ears of any pretty nurse in their vicinity. But Mr. Strathallan was the same person both on and off duty, and it was not difficult to like him as he was, without guile, and minus the common urge to increase his professional stature where he could at the expense of lesser fry.

  As the car stopped outside Rowans she felt rather embarrassed when Robert Strathallan so obviously lingered expectantly.

  “Well—sir—” she said, “I’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure you want to go home now.”

  “No, not particularly. I can come in for a moment.”

  He bounded up the steps as she fished for her key in the small pocket of her dress.

  “Can you manage?” he asked brightly. “I have a flashlight in the car.”

  Her engagement ring dropped ringingly on to the stone and off on to softer soil.

  “Was that your key?” he asked, groping.

  “No.” Flo was flustered. “It’s all right, Mr. Strathallan. I have my key. It was—only a button or something,” she lied, and flung open the door revealing the panelled hall, softly lit by lamplight at this hour.

  “Come in for a drink, sir. I haven’t seen my sisters yet.” An invitation and sharp hint all in one, it seemed. He only cared to acknowledge the invitation, however, and followed her into the sitting room where both Meg and Fay were sitting looking absolutely out of their element.

  “Hello!” Flo kissed each sister in turn while they both regarded the visitor. “Mr. Strathallan kindly brought me home. We’ll have a drink to celebrate, shall we?’

  “To celebrate what?” Fay asked stonily.

  “You didn’t tell us there was no electricity,” Meg accused.

  “Well”—Flo laughed as she busied herself with bottles and glasses at a sideboard—“frankly I haven’t missed it, dear. Where’s Pixie?”

  “She’s in bed, of course, at this hour,” Meg stated, implying that as it was now almost midnight it was no decent hour for anyone to be coming home. “What kept you, Flo?”

  “Work, of course. There was an emergency operation.”

  “We’re seeing a lot of you today, Mr. Strathallan,” Fay decided, as he handed her a glass of sherry. “How come? Do you hang about waiting for damsels in distress to appear, or something?”

  “Not as a rule,” he said mildly, “but one hopes, of course.”

  “Flo never mentioned you in her letters,” the green-flecked eyes narrowed speculatively.

  “I never actually met Mr. Strathallan until today,” Flo said from where she was leaning against the fireplace, still wearing her outdoor uniform. “He performed the operation. He’s our new consultant surgeon at the Glen.”

  “Oh, is he?” Fay decided a little more respect must be shown their neighbor. Physicians and surgeons were on a par with artists and musicians in her opinion. They were possibles should one require an escort at any time. “Married?” she wanted to know.

  Flo flushed, which did not escape her inquisitive younger sister, but she, also, wanted to know the answer.

  “No,” smiled Robert Strathallan. “I have a wee handicap from a wife’s point of view. I’m rearing my young brother, Hamish. He’s rising seventeen. It’ll be four or five years before I can bring a mistress home to Glen Lochallan.”

  “A mistress?” Fay smiled mischievously.

  “In good Scots a mistress is the wife and woman of the house, Miss Lamont,” he bowed in her direction, as though anxious to help in her education.

  “Your house is named Glen Lochallan, like the town?” Flo asked hastily.

  “At one time Glen Lochallan town was part of the estate, Miss Flo. My forefathers rallied to the Jacobite cause where the fishmarket now stands, alas!”

  “Alas for the Jacobites or the fish?” Fay asked.

  Meg, who had been sulking, now saw that Flo was becoming distressed and decided to rally to her aid.

  “You said you were going to bed ages ago, Fay,” she said sharply. “Come along with me, now. Maybe Mr. Strathallan wishes to discuss the operation with Flo.”

  “No, please stay,” the young laird begged. “It is I who must go. Goodnight, all!”

  “I’ll see you out,” Flo said, hurrying into the hall ahead of him. Fay glued her eye to a keyhole.

  “I smell a rat,” she decided from her stooping position. “Did you notice how those two looked at each other from time to time? And she wasn’t wearing her ring. I’m watching to see if he kisses her.” There was a short silence, then the front door closed and was locked and barred. “He didn’t,” Fay said disappointedly, and stood up. “She’s coming back and she’s mad, I can tell.”

  Flo re-entered the sitting room and stood with her back to the door as though barring her sisters’ exit from her wrath.

  “How could you?” she asked with difficulty. “How could you be so brash and rude? I was so ashamed I could have died!”

  Fay surveyed her as though she was some curiosity.

  “We were just being ourselves,” she said sweetly. “It was you, dear sister, who were out to impress.”

  “I don’t understand you,” Flo said tiredly.

  “Don’t you? I think you’ve got your eye on friend Strathallan and his lordly acres, if I must put things more clearly, and I can’t say I blame you if that’s your line of country. I only hope you’re not being greedy and keeping poor old Jim dangling, too.”

  “I’ve told you I only met Mr. Strathallan today. About three hours ago, to be exact.”

  “It takes only five minutes to fall in love,” Fay said, surveying the scarlet rose hips of her finger nails.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, please.” Flo realized she had been nearer to losing patience with her family than ever before in her life, and now she fought to regain her old, easy-going attitude toward them. “I’m sorry if you don’t find Rowans all you expected, and that I couldn’t meet you to bring you here myself. I’m tired now, and I’m sure you are. I’m not on duty until midday tomorrow, so we can talk in the morning.”

  “Yes, let’s go to bed,” Meg agreed, and they all went upstairs together.

  Half an hour later Flo crept down and opened the heavy front door as quietly as possible. She carried a small electric torch and by its light found what she sought, then—half weeping—she kissed the modest ring as she rammed it on her finger and surveyed it.

  “Jim!” she cried with closed eyes. “Oh, Jim, don’t let me forget you, darling! If you can hear me, come home now. Now!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Flo’s natural equanimity had returned by morning. She had spent an hour, before sleeping, in writing to Jim, and somehow that had brought him nearer and compensated somewhat for the fact that in her heart she had been guilty of denying him.

  There was a letter from him in the morning’s mail, and though she opened it eagerly she was soon sighing as she waded through whole paragraphs filled with gray details of affairs at the mine. If he had not signed himself “Yours—with all my love,” it might have been a brother’s letter or one from a casual friend.

  “This sort of thing isn’t enough,” Flo complained bitterly, and she thought of the letter she had written in the quiet of the night, telling of her love and longing and loneliness, urging Jim to fly home and marry her, even though it meant going back again to finish his contract.

  The extravagance of some of the phrases she had used now embarrassed her. Would they embarrass the reader, who never believed in committin
g his heart to the medium of writing paper?

  Flo promptly tore up the letter she had written and determined to write something even Jim’s grandmother could read without blushing.

  “We’re simply not an impassioned couple,” she decided, albeit with regret, and was glad of Pixie’s sudden tomboyish appearance from out of doors, where she had become damp and grubby in less than half an hour.

  “It’s super here, Flo,” the youngster rejoiced. “Auld Willyum’s going to let me wheel the barrow after breakfast.”

  “After this week you must start school, dear.”

  “I know. That’s the worst of it.”

  Meg and Fay came into the dining room together.

  “I never slept a wink for the silence,” Meg complained. “After Princess Street...!”

  “Did you say silence?” Fay asked derisively. “It’s noisier here at unearthly hours than ever it was in Edinburgh. When it was dark there was a wretched owl hard at it, and I’d only just closed my eyes when the wood, pigeons began.”

  “Willyum calls them cushy-doos,” explained Pixie, “but I slept like a log.”

  “You’re probably made of the same stuff,” Fay quipped. “When do we eat?”

  “Janet will bring breakfast in as soon as it’s ready,” Flo said calmly.

  “I’d better go and hurry her up—”

  “No, please don’t,” Flo stayed the other, more firmly. “She’s easily flustered.”

  “You’re telling me! Where did she escape from?”

  “Janet is not very bright mentally,” Flo proceeded, “but she is astute enough to know it, and she does her best. I won’t have her upset, Fay.” She looked levelly at the other for a moment.

  “Go on,” invited Fay. “Tell the poor relations exactly where they stand.”

  Meg flushed.

  “I do think we all want to know that, Flo,” she said sharply. “We feel a bit like flotsam at present. I’m sure we don’t want to stay where we’re not welcome.”

  Janet blundered her way in at that moment with a large tray from which emanated the appetising fragrance of bacon and kidneys. Flo relieved her of this, then came coffee and wonderful ' warm rolls. When all were served Flo turned to the eldest.

  “You’re all very welcome at Rowans,” she said sincerely, “and I won’t have you thinking for one moment that you don’t belong here with me. Where else should you go? I merely ask that you try not to upset Janet in any way until she’s used to you, because it’s difficult to get help in these out of the way places and she’s an extremely good domestic worker and cook. If you upset her, or taunt her, she’ll go off to her room and you’ll either go dinnerless or have the job to do for yourselves. So Fay must watch her tongue unless she’s addicted to washing up.”

  “Am I to act as—as housekeeper, or not?” Meg asked, still on the defensive.

  “You’re to consider yourself at home, primarily. You’re not my housekeeper, you’re my sister.”

  “Flo means that you’ll do the same tasks but not expect to be paid,” Fay said nastily.

  Though Meg looked uncomfortable Flo merely smiled, however, at this.

  “You used to be a very sweet child, Fay,” she said quietly. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing, that’s the trouble. I want to be a whole musician, but I’m half a one. I want to be a whole woman, and I’m half one of those, too. I’m halfway to nowhere and so frustrated I could scream.”

  “Please don’t.” Flo poured more coffee for all. “You’re not alone, you know, Fay. I wanted to go to medical school but I had to be content with nursing, and Meg, who had high hopes of becoming a portrait artist, finished up taking a diploma in interior decorating. I think your career is more in your own hands than either mine or Meg’s was. You can practise for hours here.”

  “I need a tutor.”

  “When you had a tutor he said you needed practise. At least you’ve got your violin, and if you work hard we’ll have to see what can be done, in time.”

  “In time!” Fay snorted ungraciously. “This place gives me the pip—”

  “I’m sorry I can’t move the house to Edinburgh to oblige you.”

  “I said last night I would like to do your lounge”—Meg volunteered. “I could see it in sunshine yellow and turquoise, and if we have loose covers for the furniture.”

  “Yes, yes, all in good time. Please excuse me, now, I’ll discuss dinner with Janet.” Flo almost ran from the room and Meg relapsed into her usual despondency.

  “No encouragement, you see?” she grumbled. “I could have passed the time very nicely if she had given me to go-ahead. I can’t sit in that room as it is. I just can’t!”

  Pixie had been ploughing steadily through the remaining rolls on the dish: she emitted crumbs as she rounded on her two elders.

  “Hasn’t it occurred to you that Flo might be hard up because of us? There’s all new furniture in my room, Auld Willyum told me, and four canna live as cheaply as one. Paint costs money, and so does material for loose covers. Do you think it’s up to Flo to keep us occupied and happy? I think she’s done enough.”

  Fay had struck the younger girl before Meg could stop her. Pixie struggled unavailingly for revenge until Flo reappeared and separated the combatants.

  “Here! Here! No fighting. Out you go into the garden, Pixie. Make the most of your few days’ holiday. What are you going to do, Fay?”

  “Whatever you advise, wonderful, clever, self-satisfied sister. If you tell me to run and play in the garden, I shall probably go.” Fay flounced out.

  “She must think me a dreadful prig,” sighed Flo.

  “It’s not you. She hits out at everybody lately. I think she’s a bad lot.”

  “Don’t say that, Meg. It’s not so long since she was in pigtails and captain of her school. I’d like to give her whatever it is she needs, poor kid.”

  “I think I’d rather wish her what she deserves,” Meg said, venomously for her. “Of course, it’s not the same with you. There’s nothing happened to you which she can use as a cat o’ nine tails on your back. If—if Jim ever jilted you, you wouldn’t remember the pretty little school kid she once was. You’d just want to shut her beautiful, taunting mouth for ever, as I do, sometimes!”

  Flo looked unhappy.

  “I suppose I’m more out of touch with you all than I imagined. If I may be frank, Meg, it seems that you’re as distorted in your outlook as Fay pretends to be. You can’t still be minding as much about Keith Bexley...?” the question was hopeful, but the eldest sister positively scowled.

  “Of course I still mind, and just as much. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “I thought time was the sure healer. Thousands of engagements are broken every year, but life goes on. It has to. Would you take Keith back?”

  “Some hopes of that ever happening! Look at me!”

  “I am looking at you, and I think if you cut Keith right out of your thoughts there’d be precious little scar left in no time. I’m sure you’ve forgotten all that was less admirable about Keith Bexley and have made his memory a sort of deity which, while being above and beyond you, is still worshipped and so dominates your life. Keith was no god, Meg. He wasn’t worth those years of sacrifice.”

  Meg breathed hard, trying to feel outraged and angry. “Who knew him better, you or I?” she demanded.

  “I’m beginning to think everybody knew the real Keith better than you, Meg. You loved a myth.”

  “Take him away and there’s nothing left, Flo. Nothing. Why do you try to cut the very ground from under my feet like this?”

  “Maybe I hope to see your feet more firmly planted dear. Anyway, you used to be quite a good actress when we were at school together. Do you think you can at least act the part where Keith means nothing to you any more? Once Fay finds her barbs glance off you she’ll soon stop trying to hurt you through him. As long as she succeeds in getting a reaction I’m afraid she’ll persist. She tries to find a weak spot in everybody. Me, too.
I suppose it’s her way of exhibiting power.”

  “She thought she had found yours last evening when you were attracted to the Strathallan of Glen Lochallan, as he calls himself. She was really quite taken aback when it emerged that you had only just met him yourself. Nevertheless she still hoped; she was keyhole-peeping at you both when you were saying goodnight.”

  “How utterly ridiculous can that girl be!” Flo exclaimed quite heatedly.

  Meg showed her surprise.

  “I thought you knew her so well!” she smiled crookedly. “You’re as annoyed as though the absurdity was the truth. Is it?”

  Flo swallowed and turned away to the window.

  “Look, Meg,” she said at length, ,“I have to show a certain amount of respect to the senior staff of any hospital where I happen to be working. I don’t want romance read into my every smile or glance or the commonest of courtesies I extend. I’m engaged to be married to Jim and that’s that.”

  “Does he know?”

  “I should hope Jim knows. He did give me a ring.”

  “I meant Mr. Strathallan, which you must have guessed. Does he know you’re engaged to be married?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. Is one expected to volunteer private and personal information upon introduction?”

  Meg smiled maddeningly.

  “You are touchy about him, though, aren’t you? I think it’s a good thing it’s me giving you the third degree and not Fay. She’d say she smelled a rat.”

  “What either of you smell doesn’t alter the facts,” Flo said more calmly. “I’m afraid I take my job too seriously to indulge in romantic escapades. Father always called me old sobersides. Remember?”

  “Yes. He also called you still waters, and we—he said—were three laughing streams. Laughing! My God! What is there to laugh about in a situation like this?”