by Penny Jordan
Tilly tried to explain that Dr Fleet frowned on the old ‘remedies.’ Furthermore, he was not agreeable to her dispensing them.
‘What’s he gonna give me instead, then?’ Mrs Stopps demanded loudly. ‘A new pair of ears?’
‘No, but he’ll examine—’ Tilly shouted back but the elderly lady shook her head.
‘Look, I’m as deaf as a post, Tilly gel. If I sit on that chair any longer me bum will take root to the wood. Now, himself ain’t gonna know you’ve put camphor and oil in me ears if no one tells him, is he?’
The blackmail worked, and Tilly saw to Mrs Stopps. As word got round that Tilly was ‘seeing,’ the queue slowly diminished.
But when Mrs Mount arrived with Grace it was a different matter. ‘My girl is worse than ever today. Just look at her! She ain’t gonna be able to walk ’ome.’
Grace looked very ill as she slumped on the chair. ‘We’ll lay her on the couch and try to make her comfy while you wait,’ Tilly said at once.
With Mrs Mount’s help she took the child to the couch under the stairs that was used for very sick or fainting patients. Tilly shooed away the children who were scrambling all over it, and drew a blanket gently over Grace’s thin, fevered body.
‘The young doctor didn’t know what it was the other day,’ Mrs Mount complained. ‘He told me to bring her back the next day if she weren’t no better. But what wiv one fing and another I was too busy. There’s other kids at home, and I have to get me neighbour to come in and watch them while I’m away.’
Tilly knew how difficult it was for people like Mrs Mount. Most island families comprised five or six children at least, some as many as ten or thirteen. Catering to their families’ needs wore the women out very quickly.
Mrs Cribbens tapped her on the shoulder. ‘’ Ere, Til, give us some of that green linctus, ducks, will you? The one you always doles out for me cough. Then I’ll be off and out yer way.’
And so it went on. By half past three Tilly was still tending to the needs of the sick and distressed on her own. She was no longer concerned about the young doctor’s approval. If she was able to help alleviate suffering, she did her best to do it.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS close to half past four when the doctor returned.
‘I’m sorry to be late,’ he apologised in a breathless voice to Tilly, who was on her knees in the surgery, attending to the swollen ankle of eight-year-old Georgie Parker. ‘Uncle is staying for a few days at St Mary’s. There are tests that need to be done and can’t be rushed. I stayed to see him through some of them, which of course delayed me.’
‘But he had no personal effects with him,’ Tilly burst out, climbing to her feet.
‘I saw that he had all he needed,’ he replied, swiftly removing his coat and hat. ‘Now, may I ask why you are wrapping this boy’s leg in a particularly strange-looking bandage?’
Giving the young doctor the benefit of the doubt—he had endured a long and difficult day at the hospital for the benefit of Dr Tapper—she returned her concentration to the invalid. ‘Georgie was kicking his ball and went over on his ankle. This is a compress soaked in arnica, a herb that’s reputed to help reduce swellings.’
He looked very confused. ‘What old wives’ tale is this?’
Before Tilly could reply the door opened and Georgie’s mother stood there. ‘Is he done yet?’ demanded Mrs Parker, looking flustered. ‘Only I got the rest of the family to see to and me husband’s dinner to cook.’ She nodded to the doctor. ‘Is it all right if I give yer me sixpence at the end of the week, Doctor, as I’m skint at the moment?’
Dr Fleet nodded abruptly. ‘Yes, that’s quite all right, Mrs Parker.’
‘Good, I’ll see yer gets it.’ She took one look at her son and crooked her finger. ‘Come on, Georgie, take me arm and ’op the best you can.’
Tilly helped Georgie to his feet. ‘You must see that he puts his leg up and rests, Mrs Parker. And a teaspoon of Milk of Magnesia if he fails to obey.’
‘Yer—two teaspoons I shouldn’t wonder,’ agreed Mrs Parker, and Georgie let out a loud protest—the first he had made during his treatment. His mother grabbed his arm and propelled him out of the room.
‘Milk of Magnesia!’ The bewildered expression was back on the doctor’s face. ‘Why, I’ve never heard of such a thing! Milk of Magnesia should only be used in a case of constipation or indigestion!’
‘But Georgie doesn’t know that,’ replied Tilly calmly. ‘As you saw by his reaction, he hates the very thought of it. The threat is enough to make him do as his mother tells him.’
With a frown on his face, the doctor took his seat at the desk. ‘Well, you had better tell me who else you’ve seen to whilst I’ve been gone.’
Tilly decided the long list—and the explanations—could wait. ‘I think you had better see Grace Mount first.’
‘Grace Mount? The young girl who came before?’
‘She’s much worse, I’m afraid.’
‘But why didn’t her mother bring her back the following day if she wasn’t any better?’
A scream outside caused them to rush into the passage. Mrs Mount was in tears as she shook her daughter’s shoulders. ‘I can’t wake her!’ she screamed. ‘What’s happened to my Grace?’
The doctor firmly took hold of her and sat her down on a chair. After briefly examining Grace, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into his room.
Tilly tried to restore calm in his absence, though Mrs Mount was very distressed, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later that Tilly was able to join the doctor.
‘She’s very ill, Tilly,’ he confirmed as he drew the blanket over Grace. ‘I must get her to hospital quickly. It will take too long to call an ambulance, so I’ll drive her there myself. I’m sorry, but everyone must wait again.’
After he had taken Grace out to the car and driven off, Tilly tried to comfort Mrs Mount. ‘What’s going to happen to my Grace?’ she sobbed.
Everyone crowded round and offered their sympathy. All the pale, anxious faces stared up at Tilly. They had all seen the little girl in the doctor’s arms and knew she was very ill. The whispered word amongst them was what they all feared, and Tilly had seen it before, in the infirmary of the orphanage and amongst the poor and sick of Hailing House.
‘The Dip’, as diphtheria was known, was a cruel disease that could spread rapidly in the community. Was Grace the first to suffer its symptoms?
It was seven o’clock and all the patients had been seen—though Dr Fleet had been very quiet on his return.
When the doors were closed, and Tilly had tidied and swept the passage, she went into the doctor’s room. He had removed his jacket and was rolling up his shirtsleeves.
‘Tilly, where do we keep the carbolic?’
Tilly’s heart sank. Carbolic disinfectant was used liberally when an outbreak of disease was threatening. ‘It is diphtheria, then?’
He shrugged slightly. ‘It’s yet to be confirmed, but I’m afraid it looks like it.’
‘What will happen to Grace?’
‘They’re transferring her to an isolation ward. All we can do is hope that it was caught in time and she has a strong enough constitution to fight it.’
Poor Grace, Tilly thought sadly. She hoped the little girl would be strong enough to endure, but she was so thin and undernourished, and the terrible disease was heartless.
‘I will call this week to examine the rest of the family. Meanwhile we must set to work.’
They filled two pails with water and poured in the strong-smelling disinfectant. Tilly would have mopped the floors herself, but the doctor insisted on helping. When everything had been cleaned, there was a rap on the door. Tilly went to answer it.
‘Sorry to bovver you, Miss Tilly,’ Frank said as he stood outside. ‘But we was wondering if you was all right? Molly tried her hand at cooking ternight, and it’s going black in the stove. I dunno what it was like in the first place, mind. You know what Molly’s cookin’ is l
ike.’
Tilly glanced at the big wall clock. It was almost eight. She hadn’t realised it was so late. ‘I’m coming now, Frank. Tell Molly I’m on my way.’
‘Another patient to be seen?’ the young doctor asked when she returned to his room where he was cleaning his desk.
‘No, it was only Frank. He was wondering where I’d got to.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve kept you so late.’
‘It couldn’t be helped.’
‘I don’t want to alarm you, but please watch Frank, Cessie and Molly for any relevant symptoms. A fever, swollen glands and unusual spots or sores. I’m sure you know well enough what to look for.’
‘Should I be in the least bit concerned, Dr Fleet,’ she assured him as she put on her coat, ‘I would be knocking on your door no matter what time of night it is.’
Before she left he put his hand on her shoulder, and Tilly jumped at his touch. As she turned to look at him his eyes flickered gently, a soft, warm expression filling them even though seconds before they had looked tired and exhausted. His fingers lingered, seeming reluctant to let her go, and his words were gentle when he spoke, filled with deep concern. ‘I hope you mean that, Tilly. I shall always be here for you if you want me.’
She nodded silently, unable to find her voice. Returning him a hesitant smile, she tried to calm the butterflies his words had set loose in her stomach. Once more she had to try to calm her scattered emotions as she left and ran down the airey steps. His touch had sent everything out of her mind!
Molly was waiting anxiously downstairs. The table was set and something that looked very much as if it had once been a pie was standing in the centre of it.
‘I left it to cook a bit long,’ Molly announced as her red curls bounced around her sticky face. ‘We can eat the middle bit, though. That ain’t burnt.’
When Cessie and Frank came into the room, they all began laughing. Tilly joined in the fun too, beginning to recover from the intimate moment she had shared with the doctor. She also kept quiet about her plans for the rest of the evening. A soak in carbolic was what every child dreaded. Many pans of water would have to be boiled on the stove and the tin bath brought in from the closet. Everyone hated the clinging, overpowering smell that lingered on the skin and hair for days and was the invisible badge of disease.
Tilly tried to break open the rock hard crust of the pie with a spoon.
‘You need a saw for that,’ Frank laughed.
‘A sharp one,’ Cessie giggled.
When the crust broke in two there were cries of delight and more laughter as the pie was divided between them. Despite having to chew very hard, most of it was eaten.
As they enjoyed themselves, Tilly’s thoughts, having at last settled, strayed to Grace. Had the doctor got her to the hospital in time? Did any of the other children have symptoms? Would there be an outbreak—the outcome every family dreaded?
Tilly knew that word would have spread quickly by now. Women all over the island would be filling baths of carbolic tonight, just as she would. It was the only weapon they had, and one that even Dr Fleet had been swift to use to fight the disease.
For the rest of the week Tilly watched Frank, Molly and Cessie very carefully. She reminded them to wash their hands regularly and avoid when possible all the coughs and sneezes that abounded. As Dr Tapper always reminded her, it was better to be safe than sorry. The doctor, meanwhile, informed each and every one of his patients that any sore throats, fevers or skin infections should be reported immediately.
Consequently the passage was full each day. There was no word on Grace, but on Friday, after the last patient had been seen, Dr Fleet called Tilly to his room. He had returned to his rather withdrawn disposition, but every now and then she thought she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, though what she couldn’t describe.
‘On Sunday I was going up to St Mary’s to visit Uncle William,’ he told her. ‘But in the circumstance I’ve decided against it. Although we’ve no confirmation about Grace’s illness, I don’t want to risk Uncle’s health. Instead I’m writing to him, saying nothing of our concerns here, and will suggest that after his treatment he recuperates with my mother in Bath. As I have no immediate plans to leave the country I’ll reassure him that I’m happy to act as his replacement until he is well enough to return. If you would like to add your letter to mine?’
Tilly nodded. ‘Thank you. I’ll write tomorrow and put it through the letterbox.’ Even though she missed Dr Tapper a great deal, she knew it would be foolhardy for him to return, even if he was feeling better. She also understood that the young doctor was tactfully suggesting that she said nothing of the recent developments in her letter.
‘And one thing more,’ Dr Fleet added quietly. ‘Miss Rosalind Darraway, the young lady who visited the other night, has kindly offered her services as she has some nursing ability. I’m sure you’ll make her welcome.’
Tilly was confused again. Why did Dr Fleet want someone else to assist in surgery? Was he dissatisfied with her work? Was he angry with her for treating the patients in his absence? Because of the possible epidemic they had been so busy she hadn’t been able to explain her side of the story. And even if she could, would he have listened? She thought they had been growing closer, but now she wondered.
It felt a very long day and an even longer night as she sat by the fire after the children were in bed. What would it be like to work with Miss Darraway? Perhaps she would prove a great help if there was an outbreak of illness.
On Saturday she wrote to Dr Tapper and mentioned nothing of the dramas that had taken place. Instead, she wished him a speedy recovery and told him that all his patients hoped he recovered soon. That night she slid the letter, care of Dr Fleet, through the letterbox upstairs.
On Monday when she arrived at work Dr Fleet was already in surgery. He was unpacking two very large boxes of books.
‘Good morning, Tilly.’
‘Good morning, Dr Fleet.’
‘As you can see, I’ve been busy.’ He smiled an almost lovely smile. ‘Don’t worry, my uncle’s medical effects are safely stored in the scullery cupboards.’
Tilly could hardly believe it. All the shelves were empty! Dr Tapper’s dispensary had vanished. In its place were rows of handsomely bound books and piles of papers.
‘Thank you for your letter, Tilly. I enclosed it with mine and have posted them off, together with a few medical periodicals. I’m certain our news will cheer Uncle William, and I took care to assure him that his patients are in safe hands and will be well looked after.’
Tilly wasn’t convinced they would be after what she had seen today. Her thoughts must have shown on her face as he frowned at her. ‘You’re looking a little pale,’ he observed, his dark eyes pinned to her face. ‘Now that Rosalind will be coming to help, would you like to take a short leave?’
Tilly looked startled. ‘No—no, that’s not necessary. I’m quite well.’
He frowned and put down the books he was holding. ‘Please don’t upset yourself over this small change. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I would like to assure you that I am not unsympathetic to my uncle’s methods of medicine. But, just as Uncle trusted his techniques, so I trust mine.’ He sighed softly as he studied her disappointed face. ‘I’m not asking for your approval, Tilly, just your co-operation. I hope this will be possible from now on.’
Quietly she left the room. She just never knew what to expect with this young man. How long would it be before Dr Tapper was well? What was going to happen next? How she missed James at moments like these! She wanted his comfort and advice. Why had he had died and left her so alone?
Arnold Wise was the first patient of the day. ‘Come to have me stitches out, Tilly gel. Can you make it snappy, love, as I got the brewery ’orses arriving today? Wiv your light touch, I reckon I’ll be as good as new again.’
A suggestion, Tilly decided, that was certain not to meet with the young doctor’s approval.
T
he following morning, Miss Rosalind Darraway swept in. She was dressed in a very regal beige coat with a high collar, and a black cloche hat with a bow on the side, and she carried a travelling bag made of the finest soft leather.
‘Where is Harry?’ she asked immediately, frowning at the gawping patients.
‘He’s with a patient at the moment,’ Tilly replied as she returned twelve-month-old Tommy Knox to his mother’s lap. His face, hands and knees were filthy, but he had a big smile on his face.
‘When will he be free?’
‘Very soon, I should think.’
‘Are all these people to be seen today?’ Miss Darraway’s expression was shocked as she surveyed the curious faces staring up at her. At Tilly’s nod, she waved her hand. ‘Well, you must tell them we shall be away for several hours, as my father is collecting us for lunch.’
Tilly thought she heard an almost audible gasp from the passage. She wondered if she should explain that the people here, once seen, would quickly be replaced by others. Lunch for the doctor and herself comprised a cup of broth and slice of bread. This was usually eaten rapidly, between patients.
But Tilly decided the news would be better coming from the doctor himself. As she returned the mop to the bucket, little Tommy escaped from his mother’s grasp.
‘Our Tommy’s taken to you, miss,’ called Mrs Knox, casting a toothless but friendly smile at Miss Darraway. ‘You can pick’ im up if yer like. He won’t bawl. He’s a good little chap, is Tommy.’
‘Oh!’ Rosalind exclaimed, looking perplexed. She stepped back quickly, out of the child’s grasp. ‘Where can I change?’ she asked Tilly hurriedly.
Tilly pointed along the passage. ‘The scullery is warm and has a mirror on the wall.’
Rosalind gasped. ‘I’m afraid a scullery won’t do. Please tell Dr Fleet that I’m using his rooms,’ she called as she ascended the staircase.
‘Blimey, is royalty paying us a visit?’ Fred Larkins chuckled as he watched her go.
