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She bore Shakespeare away to his doting mistress, made an appointment in her neat hand and went back to the surgery where a small boy was standing, clutching a pet rat. She didn’t care for rats or mice, but years of helping her father had inured her to them. All the same, she shuddered slightly as she took the animal from its anxious owner. There was nothing much wrong; advice as to diet and a few words of encouragement, and the small boy went away happy to be replaced by Major Digby with his Labrador. Since he and her father were old friends, a good deal of time was spent in talking about the good fishing locally, the chances against Farmer Bates planting sugar beet instead of winter greens and the vagaries of the weather. Beatrice, aware that she was no longer needed, left the two gentlemen, tidied the waiting-room and went along to the kitchen, where her mother was putting a batch of loaves to rise.
‘I wonder where he lives?’ she asked as Beatrice walked in. ‘I have no idea, Mother. London, I would suppose, since that was where Great-Aunt Sybil went to see him. Probably he likes driving long distances.’
Beatrice spoke rather tartly, and Mrs Browning gave her a quick look.
‘Oh, well,’ she observed, ‘we aren’t likely to see him again.’
She was wrong. It was exactly a week later that Mr Browning had a heart attack—very early in the morning, on his way back from checking Lady Lamborne’s pet donkey. Beatrice, coming down to make early morning tea, found him lying at the kitchen door. He was conscious, but cold and clammy and a dreadful grey colour, and when she felt for his pulse it was fast and faint. She wasn’t a girl to lose her head in an emergency; she put a cushion under his head, covered him with the old rug which was draped over one of the Windsor chairs, told him bracingly that he was going to be all right and went to phone Dr Forbes, fetched her mother and then went back to crouch beside her father.
Dr Forbes was there within ten minutes, listened to Beatrice’s calm voice, examined his old friend and told her to ring for an ambulance. ‘We’ll have to go to Salisbury,’ he told Mrs Browning. ‘I’ll give him an injection and we’ll keep him on oxygen.’ He patted her arm. ‘I think he’ll do, but it’s hard to tell for the moment. Thank heaven that Beatrice found him when she did.’
‘You stay with him while I put some things in a bag for him,’ said Beatrice. Her voice was quite steady, but her hands shook. ‘You’ll go with him? I’ll stay and sort things out here.’
She was back with the bag within minutes, and urged her mother to get what she needed, ready to go in the ambulance. Her father was quiet now, but he looked so ill that she felt sick with fright, although nothing showed of that upon her pale face. She held one limp hand in hers, and stared down at her father, oblivious of everything else, so that she didn’t see Dr Latimer get out of his car at the same time as the ambulance drew up.
A large, gentle hand on her shoulder made her look up. ‘Tell me what has happened, Beatrice.’ His voice was calm and matter of fact, so that she answered him readily.
‘Father—I found him here—Dr Forbes says he’s had a coronary thrombosis.’ She saw the ambulance for the first time. ‘He’s to go to Salisbury. Mother’s going with him.’
Her voice had been steady enough, only it didn’t sound like hers.
Dr Forbes had been talking to the ambulancemen; now he came to his patient. He paused when he saw Dr Latimer. ‘We’ve met,’ he said at once. ‘You gave a talk at the seminar in Bristol last year… Latimer—Dr Latimer, isn’t it?’
He launched into a brief description of Mr Browning’s collapse, and Dr Latimer said, ‘Do you mind if I come to Salisbury and take a look? I know Dr Stevens, we were students together…’
‘I’ll be glad of your advice—I suppose Dr Stevens will be in charge of him?’
‘Oh, yes, but Mr Browning is a friend…’
He bent down and plucked Beatrice on to her feet to make way for the ambulancemen with their stretcher. ‘Beatrice, find your mother, will you? I’ll drive her into Salisbury; we’ll get there ahead of the ambulance. Will you stay here?’
She said in a wispy voice, ‘I must let several people know—farmers, mostly. The small stuff I can manage on my own…Will—will you telephone me if you go to the hospital with Father? I expect Mother will want to stay there.’
‘As soon as we know what’s happening I’ll give you a ring, but stay here, Beatrice, until you hear from me.’
She nodded and went upstairs to find her mother. Mrs Browning, usually so matter of fact and competent, had gone to pieces for the moment. Beatrice took off the pinny she was wearing, got a jacket from the wardrobe, found her handbag and shoes and tidied her hair. ‘Dr Latimer is here, he’s driving you to the hospital so that you’ll be there when Father gets there. He knows the consultant there too, so Father is going to get the best possible care.’
Her mother gave her a blank look. ‘Your father’s never been ill in his life. It’s like a dream—a bad dream.’
Beatrice agreed silently and led her downstairs. The ambulance was just about ready to leave, and Dr Forbes was getting into it to be with his patient. Dr Latimer was waiting patiently at the door, and as they reached him Beatrice said urgently, ‘You will let me know?’
‘Yes. Come along, Mrs Browning.’ He put an arm round her shoulders as he smiled at Beatrice and walked to the dark grey Rolls-Royce parked to one side of the drive. He opened its door and urged Mrs Browning inside, got in himself and, with a wave of the hand, was gone.
Beatrice went slowly inside. There was a great deal to do, but just for a minute she was bewildered by the speed of it all, and the suddenness. It was a blessing that Ella had spent the night with a schoolfriend, but she would have to let Carol and Kathy know. As she went into the house, Mrs Perry, the elderly woman who came each morning to help in the house, caught up with her.
‘I saw an ambulance, Miss Beatrice. ‘as one of them dogs bitten your dad?’
‘Dogs?’ Beatrice gave her a blank look. ‘Dogs—oh, no, Mrs Perry, my father has had a heart attack. My mother has gone with him to the hospital.’
‘Oh, you poor love. I’ll make a cuppa, it’ll pull you together. And don’t you fret, he’ll be fine—them doctors are clever old fellows.’
She bustled into the kitchen and Beatrice went along to her father’s study and opened his appointments book. Miss Scott, who acted as his receptionist-cum-secretary, would be in presently, but in the meantime there were several people expecting him that morning—farmers mostly. They would just have to get hold of another vet.
She began to telephone, drank the tea Mrs Perry brought her, and went along to the surgery. Her father’s practice was mostly widespread among the estates and farms round the village, but there was always a handful of family pets needing pills or injections and occasionally a stitch. The small patients in the surgery now were easily dealt with, and she attended to them with her usual calm; she had helped her father for years and no one thought of disputing her skill. The last patient, old Miss Thom’s elderly cat with ear trouble, was borne away, and Beatrice put the surgery to rights, tidied the waiting-room and started off towards her father’s study. Miss Scott would be there by now and she would have to talk to her. The phone ringing stopped her, and she raced back to the waiting-room and snatched up the receiver.
The voice at the other end sounded reassuring and, at the same time, bracing. ‘Beatrice? Your father’s in intensive care and is holding his own nicely. Don’t leave the house, I’ll be with you in half an hour.’
He rang off before she could say a word. Just as well, as she found that she was crying.
She felt better after a good weep, and with a washed face, well made-up to cover her red nose and puffy eyelids, she went to find Miss Scott. That lady was sensible and middle-aged and could be relied upon to cope with any emergency, and she was sorting the post, bringing the books up to date and going through the appointments book. She looked up as Beatrice went in, and said with real sympathy, ‘I’m so sorry, Beatrice—what a dreadful shock for you all. Your father will be all right, of course; he’s very fit and he’ll have the best of care. Mrs Forbes told me that Dr Latimer has been called in for consultations—a splendid man, it seems. How fortunate that he happened to be here.’
For the first time Beatrice paused to wonder why he had been there, anyway. ‘He phoned a few minutes ago. Father’s holding his own. I waited to phone Carol and Kathy and Ella…’
‘Quite right, my dear. You’d like to do it now? I’ll go and have my coffee with Mrs Perry.’
Carol and Kathy took the news with commendable calm, and both said at once that they would come home just as soon as they could arrange it. Ella wasn’t easy; Beatrice spoke to her headmistress first, so that she was half prepared to hear Beatrice’s news. All the same, she burst into tears and demanded to come home at once.
‘Of course you shall,’ promised Beatrice, ‘just as soon as I get some kind of transport. Be a good girl, darling, and try to be patient, just as Father would expect you to be. I’ll ring you just as soon as I’ve fixed something up—there’s rather a lot to do.’
Her sister’s voice came, penitent in her ear. ‘Sorry, Beatrice. I’ll wait and not fuss. But you won’t forget?’
‘No, love.’
Miss Scott came back then and they set to work ringing round neighbours and neighbouring vets, fitting in the patients already booked by her father. They had almost finished when Dr Latimer joined them.
Beatrice jumped to her feet. ‘Father—how is he?’
‘Holding his own, as I told you; if he can hang on a little longer, he’ll be out of the wood.’ He bade Miss Scott a polite good morning and Beatrice introduced them. ‘We’re handing over most of father’s patients for the moment—I’ve dealt with the minor stuff in surgery this morning.’ She lifted unhappy eyes to his. ‘I’m not sure what we should do…’
‘Get a locum,’ he told her promptly. ‘Your father will need an assistant for a few months. I know you do a great deal to help him, but it will have to be someone qualified if he’s to keep his contacts with the local farmers.’
She could have hugged him for his matter-of-fact acceptance of her father’s recovery. ‘Of course, I’ll get in touch with the agency he uses sometimes—if he’s on holiday or something…’
She smiled for the first time that day, and Dr Latimer studied her unhappy face without appearing to do so. ‘Your father will be in hospital for a week or two, and when he’s home he won’t be able to do much for a time. Do you know of anyone he might like to work for him?’
She shook her head. ‘No. They’ve always been different, and they’ve never been here for longer than three weeks.’
‘Well, see what you can do. Get him here for an interview; it may make things much easier if you like him. Did you ring your sisters?’
‘Yes. Carol and Kathy are driving back, they should be here quite soon. Ella’s at school; I promised her I’d fetch her as soon as I could. I dare say Carol will fetch her.’
‘Where does she go to school?’
‘Wilton…’
‘We’ll go and get her now, shall we? Perhaps I should explain things to her…’
‘Oh, would you? She’s got her exams, and Father was anxious that she should pass well; if she could be reassured it would help a lot.’
Sitting in the soft leather comfort of his car, she said rather shyly, ‘You’re being very kind, and I’m most grateful. I know Mother will be too when she knows. You do think Father will be all right? Dr Stevens is very good, isn’t he? Did he think he would recover?’ She stopped and the bright colour washed over her face. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon, you’re much cleverer than he is, aren’t you? I mean, you’re very well-known—Mrs Forbes said so. I expect Dr Stevens does what you suggest, doesn’t he?’
A small sound escaped Dr Latimer’s lips. ‘Well, more or less—we pool our knowledge, as it were; he was good enough to allow me to take a look at your father. Is your Miss Scott reliable? Could she be left for a couple of hours while I take you to the hospital? Your mother wants to stay the night, and asked me to fetch some things for her. There is no reason why all of you shouldn’t see him for a moment.’
‘Thank you, I know we would all like to do that. But don’t you have to work? Don’t you have patients in London and hospital rounds and—and things?’
He said gravely, ‘I take an occasional day off.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. If you turn down the next street, the school’s half-way down.’
Ella was waiting, red-eyed and restless. When she saw Dr Latimer she rushed to him and flung her arms around him. ‘It’s you. Oh, I’m so glad, now Father will be all right. How did you know? Had you come for breakfast?’
He didn’t answer her questions, but said cheerfully, ‘I’m going to take you to see your father, but first Beatrice has to put a few things together for your mother. She will stay at the hospital for a day or two while you help Beatrice to look after the house and the animals.’
He stowed her in the seat beside him and Beatrice got into the back, relieved at the placid way in which he had dealt with Ella, and once they were back home again he exhibited the same placid manner with Carol and Kathy, prevailed upon Miss Scott to stay until they returned, piled them all back into the car and drove back to Salisbury. And Beatrice sat in front beside him, listening to his advice, given in a diffident voice but sound none the less, so that, when he suggested that it might help if he were to be present when she interviewed any applicant for the post of assistant at the surgery, she agreed without a second thought.
‘And it should be as soon as possible,’ he reminded her, ‘so that whoever comes has settled in nicely before your father returns.’
‘I’ll phone as soon as we get home,’ she promised him. ‘How shall I let you know if someone comes for an interview?’
‘I’ll leave you my phone number.’ He drew up before the hospital entrance and they all got out. Ella was crying again, and he paused to mop her face. ‘Your father is on a life-support machine, so there are a number of tubes and wires attached to him; don’t let that frighten you. And you may only stay a few moments. Come along.’
Mrs Browning was sitting on a chair outside intensive care; she looked as pale as her daughters, but gave them a cheerful smile. She looked at Dr Latimer then. ‘I’m eternally grateful,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without your help. And I do believe you when you say that Tom is going to get better.’ She gave him a sweet smile. ‘May the girls see him?’
‘Certainly. Two at a time, I think. I’ll just make sure that they won’t be in the way…’
He disappeared, to return presently with a white-gowned Sister. ‘Carol and Kathy?’ he suggested. ‘You’ll have to put on white gowns. Sister will show you.’
They were only gone for a minute or two, and then it was Beatrice’s and Ella’s turn. ‘And not so much as a snuffle from you,’ warned Dr Latimer, giving Ella a gentle push.
Beatrice had steeled herself to see her father’s grey face once more, but despite the tubes and wires he looked more like her father again, with colour in his face, and apparently asleep. The sight of him acted like a tonic upon her; he was alive and he was going to get better. Dr Latimer had said so. She quelled a great desire to burst into tears, and urged Ella back into the waiting-room.
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.’
