New Doctor at Northmoor

N
EW DOCTOR AT NORTHMOOR

by

ANNE DURHAM

For one reason or another, Doctor Mark Bayfield had managed to get on the wrong side of every member of the Kinglake family before he had even started his new job at Northmoor Hospital. So wasn’t it going to lead to trouble when he turned out to be the only doctor who could get to the bottom of young Gwenny Kinglake’
s illness?

CHAPTER I

Gwenny Kinglake jumped off her bike and pushed it the last few hundred yards up the rough track to
Mrs.
Yeedon
’
s cottage.
Mrs.
Yeedon was one of Gwenny
’
s mothers
’
names on her list. She came under the heading of
‘
over seventy, alone, unable to shop or sew, tenacious—won
’
t go into Old Folks
’
Home—and to be watched over
’
.
Mrs.
Kinglake had seven such names on her list and all her friends had only six. So far
Mrs.
Kinglake hadn
’
t really noticed that going to all the other names because the way was not too hard on the tyres of her new car allowed her daughter to practically lift her precious seventh name from her.

Gwenny liked going to
Mrs.
Yeedon
’
s. The cottage wasn
’
t a period one, so it wasn
’
t one of those tiresome things that for some unknown reason attracted the tourists to the district, so
Mrs.
Yeedon really was alone, and Gwenny could do things for her and have long, long talks with her at the same time. With Gwenny,
Mrs.
Yeedon dropped her act of being a little odd and very hard of hearing, and discussed the ladies of the district with a spicing of malicious humour that Gwenny appreciated. She made cowslip wine that was out of this world, in Gwenny
’
s inelegant language, and she was teaching Gwenny to tat.

‘
Best not let your mother know,
’
Mrs.
Yeedon observed that hot August afternoon, as Gwenny at last arrived at the cottage.

Gwenny carefully propped the bike against the whitewashed wall of the cottage and stood back to look critically at it. Bike and wall blended charmingly
because both were stained with weather and time. The bike didn
’
t matter, it could be replaced. But something would have to be done about the walls of the cottage.

‘
I
’
ll speak to Ted Meakin,
’
Gwenny said, half to herself.
‘
He
’
d come up and give it a coat of paint one week-end, if I asked him.
’

‘
Never mind the walls of my cottage,
’
Mrs.
Yeedon said severely.
‘
White they may not be, but you
are
white, miss—a sight too white for my peace of mind. That
’
s what I say—best not let your mother know how it knocks you up, pushing that bike up my hill.
’

‘
It
’
s not a hill, it
’
s only an incline, and it
’
s a hot day, and if you let my mother know I look a bit washed out, you and I will fall out,
’
Gwenny said, but she swayed a little.

The old woman took her into the cottage.
Mrs.
Yeedon was surprisingly strong for one who was considered to be small, bent and infirm enough to be
‘
put away
‘
in a place where there were plenty of people to give an eye to her.
‘
I
’
ll make you a tisane,
’
she said firmly.
‘
None of my wine for you today, my lass. You need something to do you good.
’

She stood over the stove, brewing up the kettle and mixing odd-smelling things in a curious pot with a close
—
fitting lid.

‘
You
’
re going to poison me,
’
Gwenny said, with a faint sound that resembled a choking giggle.

‘
Aye, you can laugh,
’
Mrs.
Yeedon continued.
‘
Time was when they come to me for herbs and such to cure their woes. Then time was they
’
d have called me a witch—some did
!
That was when they began to get free doctoring. Aye, there
’
s some as
‘
d rather go and sit in the waiting-room all morning instead of setting a slow
—
cooking casserole for the children
’
s dinner, and a-cleaning up of the house. Lazy, some of these women nowadays.

Aye, well, child, drink this up, and you
’
ll feel better. And don
’
t tell your mother.
’

Gwenny drank it and felt better.
‘
Of course, I want my head searching, don
’
t I, for letting you brew things for me? I mean, it
’
s mad, isn
’
t it, with a doctor in the family—well, there are some who might be rather rude about my brother Laurence
’
s skill as a doctor—but still, they wouldn
’
t like it at home, but I feel much better, and deliciously wicked.
’

‘
You look better,
‘Mrs.
Yeedon said critically.
‘
You
’
re perking up. I can hear. Got plenty to say for yourself all of a sudden. Well, tell me this much. What made you look so miserable before you started climbing my hill?
’

‘
You were looking at me through your field glasses,
’
Gwenny indignantly accused.

‘
Of course I was. Living here all by myself, I always look through my glasses to see who
’
s coming. What
’
s troubling you, lass?
’

Gwenny was silent.

‘
Is it your mother, and that list of hers? Don
’
t mind her, my girl. Every woman needs something to do, once her children are grown up, and your mother
’
s very good to old people, in her way. Generous, too. And it
’
s not all the old ones as are awkward, like me, about accepting help from others,
’
she finished, with a grim smile.

‘
It
’
s not my mother especially,
’
Gwenny admitted.

‘
Then it
’
s that sister of yours,
’
Mrs.
Yeedon pronounced.

‘
You don
’
t like my sister Priscilla,
’
said Gwenny, trying to sound indignant but not managing very well. Priscilla hadn
’
t treated the old lady right, and
Mrs.
Yeedon was unforgiving.

‘
I always said that sister of yours would never make a nurse
‘
she began, but Gwenny cut in fiercely.

‘
Yes, she has. She
’
s passed her First Year exam, anyway. Well, she got through,
’
she added, honesty struggling with loyalty, and winning.
‘
It isn
’
t that. Oh, I
’
ll tell you. Perhaps you can give me some advice. It
’
s a sort of
...
well, a feeling in the air at home. It
’
s rather peculiar, really. They
’
re all pretty angry, for different reasons, and yet, it
’
s funny—it
’
s all against one man.
’

‘
Which man?
’
Mrs.
Yeedon grunted, busily feeding her bird.

‘
He
’
s a doctor. In London. At least, I think. Priscilla
’
s furious with him. I can
’
t quite make out whether she showed too plainly that she liked him and he coolly snubbed her
‘

The old woman broke in with a dry chuckle,
‘
Sensible chap!
’

‘
—
or whether she got into trouble with him because she was doing something she shouldn
’
t
.’

‘
Could be,
’
the old woman commented.

‘
Well, you know how vague Priscilla is, when she
’
s telling people anything. And she twists it so much to suit herself that I get the feeling that there isn
’
t much of the original story left. Aren
’
t we different, Priscilla and me? There
’
s only eighteen months between us, but sometimes she makes me feel she
’
s so much older than me. She
’
s really sophisticated and experienced.
’

‘
Too smart,
’
the old woman said.
‘
I always told your mother that letting that girl go to London was the worst thing she could do. Never told your mother anything else after that, because she thought I was getting past it. Ah, you can say your mother and her friends don
’
t think I
’
m in my dotage and ought to be put away. I know they do.
’

‘
Of course they do,
’
Gwenny scolded,
‘
because you pretend it
’
s so when they visit you. You only do it for fun, but they don
’
t think it
’
s fun. You
’
ll be sorry one of these days.
’

The old woman grunted. ‘
Well, much good may it do me, either way. Didn
’
t help over that sister of yours. Is that all you
’
re worrying about?
’

‘
No, not actually. No one would have taken much notice of it really—I mean, Priscilla
’
s always falling out with some man. Only—and this is odd—this man, this doctor, has also upset our Laurence.
’

‘
Has he?
’
Mrs.
Yeedon dropped what she was doing and came to plump herself down on a hard-backed chair and stared at Gwenny.
‘
Know why, my lass?
’

‘
Ye-es, I think so. Something to do with preventing our Laurence from getting a job. At least, I think so. Again he
’
s awfully vague, and I get the feeling, too, that Laurence
’
s new girl-friend is something to do with it. Queer, isn
’
t it? You just mention this doctor and everyone jumps and gets all fierce. I
’
ve never known them to be like that before, over anyone else.
’

‘
Jealousy,
’
Mrs.
Yeedon commented.
‘
I wouldn
’
t think another word about it.
’

‘
Oh, I don
’
t know,
’
Gwenny objected.
‘
Laurence is very nicely fixed up at his hospital, I would have thought. And even you can
’
t say my father was ever jealous of anyone, now can you?
’

‘
No, I
’
ll say that for your father. The doctor is as nice a fellow as ever I come across, allowing for him being for all these here new-fangled drugs and all against my herbs.
’

Gwenny hid a smile, and turned the conversation to a subject they both liked discussing—the possible sale of Fairmead.

‘
If I had a lot of money,
’
Gwenny began, settling cosily on the old chair bedstead with the black cat and the six new kittens,
‘
I
’
d buy the whole place, just as it stands, I think. I
’
d give it to myself for my eighteenth birthday.
’