New Doctor at Northmoor (20 page)

Catherine Allen came in later with Gwenny
’
s tray, when Cosgrove went off duty. Gwenny drove herself to ask about Willow House.

‘
What
’
s it like?
’

Catherine dimpled and flushed.
‘
Oh, it was meant to be a secret. Has it got around already? Mark won
’
t be pleased—er, I mean the R.M.O., of course!
’

‘
Don
’
t you think Fairmead is a nice house?
’
Gwenny asked fiercely.

‘
What do you know about Fairmead?
’
Catherine asked blankly.

‘
I know it like the back of my hand,
’
Gwenny told her bitterly.
‘
I knew it when the Walkers lived there. I used to sit in the long gallery and in the mauve
drawing room
—’
She broke off and bit her lip.
‘
Well, he
seemed pretty keen on it at first, but I suppose you don
’
t like it!
’

‘
If you want to know,
’
Catherine said spiritedly,
‘
I think one might as well live in a museum and have done with it, but that
’
s only my opinion! Don
’
t quote me
!’

So there it was. But Gwenny couldn
’
t leave it alone.

‘
Is he going to sell Fairmead, then?
’
she asked tautly.

‘
I don
’
t know. I shouldn
’
t think so,
’
Catherine said.
‘
A man can have more than one house, I suppose, can
’
t he?
’

Gwenny watched her flounce out, and joined the ranks of her family in hating the Bayfields, whose money seemed to be like the contents of the bottomless well in the story. She had no fear of Catherine putting around that conversation of theirs. To Gwenny it was just asking for a bit of information about a house that her own mother wanted to buy.

But to Catherine, it was a personal affront. Willow House was small and easy to renovate, when compared with Fairmead, but it had none of the decayed grandeur of Fairmead. It had smarted, to be told by Mark that Willow House was being bought for her, regardless of whether she had wanted it or not. She would have liked
Mark to make her a present of Fairmead, the more important house, in spite of the fact that she didn
’
t personally like it.

Really, that Kinglake brat ought to be taught a lesson, she told herself. And Mark ought to be put in his place, too. He had been too uppish with her for words, just lately. And no one, no one in the world was going to tell her that Mark was merely impersonally interested in that Kinglake girl.

Mark was coming towards her at that moment. With a gleam in her eye, Catherine Allen said softly, as he passed,
‘
I wouldn
’
t go in there just yet, darling. She
’
s putting on a pining act for her rich beau.
’

He stopped.
‘
What on earth are you talking about, Catherine?
’
he asked, in a dangerously quiet voice.

Catherine thought better of mentioning the man who was sending Gwenny the flowers, and contented herself with saying,
‘
Now she
’
s contagious again, she
’
s had to give up all hope of persuading him to come and visit her, so she
’
s taking it out on everyone else. I was glad to come out of her room
!’

‘
Are you talking about Miss Sansom?
’
he asked icily.

‘
No, darling, Miss Kinglake,
’
Catherine said primly.
‘
And she
’
s been pretty cagey about this rich man of hers, I can tell you
!
And all the time we
’
d felt sorry for her because she seems so alone. You just can
’
t tell, can you? They say it
’
s the quiet ones who are the deepest
!’

Mark knew Catherine pretty well, but she seemed so certain of her facts, and Gwenny had been cool to him, to say the least. Any friendliness had come from him to her, never in reverse. He had to be honest: her own manner had been consistent from the first time they had met on the old drive at Fairmead, and she had shown him nothing but hostility. Hostility for the stranger poaching on her preserves, hostility towards the man who appeared to have done outrageous things to her family; and now she had made it clear that she didn
’
t like being treated by him and wished she could go home. That much he had gathered, the last time he had visited her. On top of all that, Catherine
’
s remarks didn
’
t seem unreasonable.

He altered his mind and went to see Tilda Sansom instead of Gwenny. Gwenny heard his voice across the passage and waited for him to appear, but he didn
’
t come. She wanted badly to ask him if he had had any hand in the buying of
Mrs.
Yeedon
’
s cottage, or whether it had just happened that for some reason best known to the property company interested, that cottage had been bought and
Mrs.
Yeedon had been given permission to stay in it for the rest of her life. Of course such things did happen sometimes when there was the possibility of an outcry locally, if it looked as if a big company was going to cause hardship to just one local person who was well-known. Yet it was odd, wasn
’
t it? She was so worried about
Mrs.
Yeedon, and
Mrs.
Yeedon was so fretful about her future—and now it had become mysteriously straightened out?

But on cold sober thinking, Gwenny had to admit that it would really be no concern of Mark Bayfield
’
s. He had seemed hardly interested when she had told him about her fears for the old woman and the cottage. All he was concerned with was his personal battle with the pneumonia, not the person who was suffering from it. He had said as much. He had said as much when he had been condemning sentimentality about the patients.

No, Gwenny thought, he wouldn
’
t be the one to try and keep the cottage for the old woman, so she had nothing to thank him for. He was only interested in marrying Catherine Allen, and buying Willow House for her. Gwenny loathed her, loathed Mark Bayfield, loathed the whole Bayfield family—and she turned her attention to wondering who could possibly be sending Gwenny Kinglake those expensive daily floral offerings. Who could the rich man be?

But next day the flowers didn
’
t come.

CHAPTER XI

Now a different phase began. The flowers left a big gap and everyone talked about it. Cosgrove said,
‘
Hello, no flowers today?
’
and Catherine Allen stared blankly at the space where they had been, and raised her eyebrows as high as they would go.
‘
What, has he deserted you, little one? Had a row, perhaps?
’
And Sister commented on the stoppage of the flow. Sister had been glad of them. As each fresh bouquet arrived, she took the one from the day before and put it on the wards. Now there were only the wilting ones from yesterday and nothing to replace them.

Part of the different pattern was that the R.M.O. never came into the room alone, but brought several other people with him—Sister or Staff, Sir Giles, or his own houseman. Gwenny never had a chance of speaking to him personal and private any more.

Well, she asked herself savagely, why want to speak to him personal and private, since he was going steady with Catherine Allen? Catherine so cock-a-hoop that she practically danced around the place, and didn
’
t flirt with any man, except the R.S.O. and that, Gwenny considered, was positively indecent. She saw him go to the room Tilda was in (of course, he was still looking after that broken arm of Tilda
’
s, she supposed!) and Catherine stopped in front of him at the door, and they looked at each other with the special message-sending
—
message-receiving look of people who were secretly in love. Gwenny had seen it before, and had often wondered what it would be like: what it would be like to look at Mark Bayfield like that, and to have Mark Bayfield look back at her like it.

There she was again! Dreaming about him, when he was to marry Catherine Allen presumably, because hadn
’
t he acquired Willow House for her? And Catherine Allen was flirting with Arthur Peake! Gwenny was so angry, she felt like saying something to Arthur Peake about being disloyal to the R.M.O., only she never got the chance. Arthur Peake never came into her room any more, after those first few times which mysteriously coincided with the appearance of Catherine Allen with a water jug or tray.

She lay staring at the ceiling, feeling at times very ill, and at others almost her old self. It came and went, the fever which she now shared with Tilda, and she often wondered if Tilda hated the onset of the burning fire that raged through her, and the shivering afterwards, the pains in the joints, and the desperate craving to fall asleep and forget everything. But she could get no word to Tilda, nor from her.

It was into this existence that an event plunged which was to turn Gwenny
’
s world upside down. It happened with the ambulance bells one afternoon not long afterwards. Cosgrove, at the window, commented,
‘
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble. I see all the signs of another little lot from our famous by-pass! Funny, it
’
s supposed to cut out accidents, not send more of them in to us. Such a lot that by-pass cost, and it
’
s given us even more work. Oh, that
’
s funny!
’
she said, and her face changed and she broke off, and turned away from the window.

‘
What
’
s funny?
’
Gwenny wanted to know.

‘
Nothing. Just thought I saw your brother Laurence get out of that ambulance. Oh, I must have been mistaken. He
’
s gone back to London, hasn
’
t he?
’

Gwenny was frightened again. She had had this feeling the day that Tilda came into hospital.
‘
I don
’
t know. I suppose so. I don
’
t know why he was still down here, anyway. Please find out for me!
’

Cosgrove hesitated. She was feeling decidedly guilty about having mentioned the thing at all to Gwenny. She supposed she ought to try and put it right now, before it was too late, and Gwenny Kinglake relapsed into her usual upset.

‘
I could ring down to Casualty, I suppose. Your sister is working down there for the rest of the week. I could ask for her. Would she tell me, do you think?
’

‘I
don
’
t know, but try! Try!
’
Gwenny urged. Cosgrove came back some time later and said,

‘
Casualty is in a bit of a state. It seems that your clot of a brother rammed Sir Giles
’
s car.
’

Cosgrove had no tact at a
ll
. Seeing Gwenny
’
s face, she hastily amended,
‘
Here, take it easy! No harm done—at least, not to Sir Giles. He wasn
’
t in the car at the time. The poor old chauffeur caught it, and he got off lightly, they say. But honestly, what he
’
ll have to account for! That car of Sir Giles
’
s cost the earth and Sir Giles will be livid
!’

‘
Laurence! Is he hurt
?’
Gwenny gasped.

‘
No. At least, a few scratches here and there, and a natty bandage round his head, which you
’
d expect, wouldn
’
t you, considering it was just a long scratch. Men! They can
’
t take it
!’

‘
It
’
s serious, I know it is,
’
Gwenny wailed.

‘
Not so serious that they
’
re stopping him from coming up to see his girl-friend,
’
Cosgrove said calmly.
‘
I expect he
’
ll take the bandage off before he goes in there,
’
and Gwenny saw she was quietly laughing.

The R.M.O. wasn
’
t laughing, however, when he came in later. He came in alone, which was odd, and he didn
’
t even tell Cosgrove to busy herself in the comer. He said, without preamble,
‘
Did you arrange for Miss Sansom to go to a vet in Uxmarket on your behalf?
’

Gwenny
’
s heart sank. That would be Laurence letting that out, she supposed, but why, why? He had been the one who had asked for it to be kept secret.

She hesitated about admitting it, but Mark Bayfield hadn
’
t much patience, that was obvious.
‘
You must tell me
!
It happens to concern your welfare as well as hers! I want to know just what happened.
’

‘
I did tell you part of it, didn
’
t I? Oh, well, I
’
ll tell you, then. Old Jock
’
s bird was ill and he couldn
’
t get to a vet himself, so I asked her to go.
’

‘
Why her? She couldn
’
t drive, not with that arm and leg!
’
the R.M.O. snapped.

But he was waiting to know just why, so Gwenny was forced to tell him.
‘
My brother Laurence wanted to meet her on neutral ground, to explain something.
’

‘
I see. To explain why he was already committed elsewhere, I suppose.
’
He was so angry he seemed to have forgotten Cosgrove standing hovering, lapping it all up.

‘
That
’
s not true
!’
Gwenny stormed.
‘
My brother Laurence is in love with her! He wants to marry her!
’

‘
It seems a very unlikely story,
’
observed Mark Bayfield.

‘
I also arranged for someone to drive her there, and to pick up the bird, because I didn
’
t think she
’
d like to go into old Jock
’
s cottage. Well, it
’
s a bit messy, and she—well, all she had to do was to take the cage to a vet she knows, and my brother said he
’
d pay the fees.
’

‘
And then?
’

‘
And then my brother was to take Tilda in his car somewhere for the rest of the day and to take her home.
’

‘
I see. Why didn
’
t you tell me all this before?
’

‘
It
’
s no use getting angry with me,
Dr.
Bayfield. Why should I tell you—I mean, what interest could it have for you to know what my brother Laurence wanted to arrange for his girl-friend
?’

‘
No, well, I don
’
t suppose you would see the connection,
’
he snapped, and went out.

In less than no time, before even Cosgrove could think of questions to frame, in order to get all that out of Gwenny once more, he was back again with Sister, and one of the path. lab. people, and a receiver with a syringe in it, and some evil-looking fluid in it.

‘
What
’
s this?
’
Gwenny asked faintly.
‘
I don
’
t want that stuff
!’

They proceeded to give her the injection without any more preamble, and she was
‘
under
‘
in no time at all.

It was a wonderful release, that time. When she again opened her eyes, she felt so much better than she had done for a long time that she couldn
’
t believe it.

She cautiously moved her arms and the joints didn
’
t hurt, and she tried sitting up, and nothing went swimmy.

The door had been left ajar, and Sister came in almost at once, and when she saw Gwenny was awake, she called someone, and in a very little while Gwenny
’
s room was full again: the R.M.O., of course, and Sir Giles, and Sister and Staff, and the junior with the inevitable trolley
of instruments, and they all churned round the bed. Then followed more tests and examinations, and Gwenny felt the old depression returning.

‘
No, I think that
’
s the answer!
’
the R.M.O. said at
last, straightening up and looking round at them all, and Sir Giles snorted. Gwenny waited for
him t
o say
s
omething about hysteria again, but he didn’t. Instead, he glared at Gwenny, and said heavily, ‘You couldn’t,
of
course, admit you’d been fooling about with a vulture riddled with disease, could you, young woman? It
would have
saved a great deal o
f
trouble all round,’ and
h
e stumped out.

The R
.M.O. didn’t look pleased at that. Gwenny said indignantly, ‘I
don’t know of any vulture
!
What’s he
talking about?’

Sister said, ‘It seems, my dear, that you’ve been going to a cottage where an old man keeps a selection of birds that were brought from Central Africa,
I
believe, and one bird’s bug infected you.’

The R
.M.O. tightened his lips. He was still busy
giving Gwenny an injection, so Sister said nothing else.

Presently they all went out, but the
R
.M.O. came b
ack, hesitated, and finally offered
the information: ‘Your friend Miss Sansom happened to know a vet who had worked in A
fr
ica and was int
erested in this particular bird.
You have him to thank for your cure
, really,’ and then he went out.

G
wenny
felt crushed. He might have told her about it first,
instead of letting other people into the secret and then pe
r
mit
t
ing Siste
r
to t
e
ll her.
What
was the matter with him?
H
e didn’t look pleased or triumphant or anything: just plain annoyed
!

And Sir Giles looked as
if he
loathed her
! But of course,
that would
b
e because h
e
didn’t like his theory of hy
steria
being discarded so
p
eremptorily
, she supposed.

She offered the idea to Nurse Cosgrove later, when she came in to clear up.

‘Hello.’ she said
heartily
to Gwenny. ‘
How does it feel to be
demoted
fr
om the “important” list?’

‘Am I demoted
?
’ Gwenny asked.

‘You certainly are, from everything! No longer contagious. And look at me! No more protective garments.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they’ve isolated the bug. A series of quick injections and you’re cured!’

‘So you’ve hear that I’ll be alright again. Really alright?’

‘Didn’t the R.M.O. tell you?’

‘He didn’t tell me anything. I think he hates me,’ Gwenny said miserably.

Cosgrove couldn
’
t tell her any more,
so Gwenny
tackled Priscilla when she came
up later.

Priscilla said,
‘
Well, you
’
ve created
a furore, haven
’
t
you? Everyone
’
s seething with the story!
Now per
haps you
’
ll keep out of those filthy old
cottages!
’

‘
I won
’
t give up my friends!
’
said
Gwenny, looking
stormy.

‘
You may have to!
This
has opened
up a very big
field of enquiry. It all started with the
vet discovering
the bird was diseased all through
and he put it down.
’

‘
Oh, no! Poor old Jock!
’
Gwenny burst out.

‘
Don
’
t be a clot, infant.
It was the first sensible thing
anyone
’
s done in this whole miserable
business. Then
he tried to get in touch with old
Jock, in case he had any
more diseased animals (he knows
all
about
it, seeing he
was in Africa and interested
in
birds!)
but he didn
’
t
know where the owner lived, so
he contacted the very
formidable grandfather of Tilda
Sansom.
’

‘
Oh, no!
’
Gwenny wailed.
‘
He was the last person
to know about it! He
’
s worse
than Tilda
’
s father
!
Now
he
’
ll know about Tilda meeting
Laurence
—’

‘
I
know it,
’
Priscilla agreed.
‘
That
’
s Laurence
’
s silly
fault. He shouldn
’
t have fooled
about with some other
girl (but you know all about
that, of course!) and so of
course Tilda
’
s father was livid,
and he contacted Daddy,
thinking Laurence was home,
but Laurence had gone
back to London, so Daddy
telephoned his hospital and
Laurence got a wigging over
that.
’

‘
But
if
Laurence was
in London, how came he to ram
Sir Giles
’
s car
—’
Gwenny
began, but Priscilla broke
in: