New Doctor at Northmoor (6 page)

Clem made convulsive gulps, so Gwenny kindly interpreted :
‘
What do I want to go there on a hot day like
this for? Well, I
’
ll tell you. They
’
re moving in today
—
at least, this
Dr.
Bayfield is. I want to watch them move in. I adore watching moving vans, don
’
t you?
’

Clem didn
’
t. He shook his head violently and made more noises, but Gwenny couldn
’
t be persuaded to make further effort to translate. She said instead,
‘
You
’
re getting like my family for trying to stop me doing something I want to. Are you going to drive me round the back or will I get off here and walk up the drive
?’

Clem drove on. The road to the back of the estate was bumpy and rutted, and it hadn
’
t been improved by the arrival of the removal vans. They blocked the entrance anyway. They were big ones. Although the new owner had bought everything, lock, stock and barrel, much of the older stuff was either being taken away to store or to be cleaned and renovated, and he had accumulated a great deal of stuff of his own. And they were all very busy indeed—too busy to be bothered with poor Clem, who was almost frantic with anxiety at what he had on the floor of his cabin.

Mark Bayfield, in jodhpurs and a turtle-necked sweater, came out and asked the men what the trouble was.

‘
Some local bloke who can
’
t talk properly,
’
was the laconic answer.

Clem recognized a doctor when he saw one, and hesitated. Long ago he had been told that an operation would cure his stutter, or at least remove part of the impediment, but he couldn
’
t face it. He couldn
’
t now, he had never been able to face the thought. He backed out of the arena and drove Gwenny away.

The sight of her slumped on the floor of his van bothered him dreadfully, but he didn
’
t know what to do. He had wild thoughts of taking her to the hospital and dumping her outside, but he was afraid of the porters. When he had deliveries to make at any hospital or doctor
’
s house he usually pretended to have a cold and to have lost his voice. But he had to do something about Gwenny.

Finally he remembered
Mrs.
Yeedon, and drove Gwenny back there, but by then she had come to, and was sitting up, looking very ill.

Mrs.
Yeedon scolded Clem shrilly. She, like Gwenny, could understand him when he tried to talk. Clem told her why he had brought Gwenny back, but instead of
Mrs.
Yeedon thinking it a clever idea, she was furious.

‘
You
’
re a nincompoop, Clem, and that
’
s the truth I There was a fine opportunity for you to deliver that poor child into the hands of a real doctor, and what do you do? You bring her back to me, you fathead! Oh, get along with you, do!
’

‘
Don
’
t scold him,
’
Gwenny pleaded weakly from
Mrs.
Yeedon
’
s best couch.
‘
He insisted on driving me right up to the house. If he hadn
’
t, I might still be lying somewhere half-way along a drive that no one ever uses. I might have been there for hours and no one would have known! It
’
s me you ought to scold, for going there in the first place.
’

Clem flashed her a brilliant smile of gratitude, but
Mrs.
Yeedon chased him back to his van before coming back to ask Gwenny to tell her all that again.

Gwenny did, and at last, having finished, she lay looking at
Mrs.
Yeedon with eyes so large and dark-ringed that the old woman was almost brought to the point of walking down to the main road and the callbox, and ringing up Gwenny
’
s own father to come and collect her.

Only the thought of what Gwenny herself would have to say to such a course stopped her.

‘
What beats me
,’
she said at last, in extreme exasperation,
‘
was why you wanted to go over there at all. A sensible girl like you should know that the young gentleman wouldn
’
t want callers before he
’
d even moved in.
’

‘
I wanted to ask him something, that
’
s all,
’
Gwenny said faintly.

‘
Dear life, what would you have the nerve to ask the man, bless us, in the middle of having his home shifted into a strange place
?’

‘
It was important to know, if it was true
.’

‘
I may be an old woman, but I
’
m not all that stupid, though folks might think so, for I
’
m sure I can
’
t see, even if I had fifty pairs of eyes, what it is you want the truth of, miss.
’

‘
Darling, darling
Mrs.
Yeedon, my family—all of them
—
are saying he
’
s done things to them. Awful things
!
I just can
’
t, I won
’
t believe it
!’

Mrs.
Yeedon sat down.
‘
Lovey, you
’
re not well. Why should you think your family believe bad things of a man they don
’
t even know yet? He
’
s a stranger to the district.
’

‘
I know. That
’
s what
’
s so awful about it,
’
Gwenny muttered, turning her head from side to side.

Mrs.
Yeedon felt her head and her face. Both were very hot and her face decidedly damp.
‘
I must get us a cold compress,
’
she muttered to herself, and got some ice-cold water from the well to wring out a towel in.

When
Dr.
Bayfield arrived, he saw Gwenny lying on the couch with a towel twisted round her head, and her eyes shut in her dead-white face. The old woman was crouching over the fire brewing herbs.

She looked so much like a witch that Gwenny, opening her eyes at the sound of his footsteps, was moved to say
as quickly as she was able,
‘
She isn
’
t a witch really. She just likes to look like one, and she
’
s good to me.
’
She closed her eyes again. Mark Bayfield came over and looked down at her, then turned to
Mrs.
Yeedon and introduced himself.

‘
Mark Bayfield—I
’
m a doctor, at Northmoor Hospital, as from next Monday. Your new neighbour.
’

Mrs.
Yeedon appreciated his height and good looks and that clipped manner of his. She almost but not quite curtseyed. It was like going back to her extreme youth when the old squire, then a young man, had come to her cottage.

‘
I
’
m honoured to have you visit me, doctor,
’
she said, but she couldn
’
t resist adding dryly,
‘
though I mind you
’
ve likely come to see the young lady. She tells me she called in the middle of your removal.
’

‘
Did she?
’
He seemed quite surprised.

‘
Yes,
’
Mrs.
Yeedon said tartly,
‘
but you wouldn
’
t have seen her, on account of her being on the floor of the driver
’
s cabin of a van. She
’
s poorly, proper poorly.
’

‘
I know.
’
He sounded vexed.
‘
Have you spoken to your father, young woman?
’
he demanded of Gwenny.

She raised her eyes, and he was shocked to see the change in her. It was too quick, much too quick.
‘
No,
’
she whispered.

‘
Why not?
’

‘
Wanted to,
’
she muttered.
‘
Tried to. Couldn
’
t. Too many people there. All talking.
’

He glanced at
Mrs.
Yeedon, his brows raised.

She said, in an undertone which he caught but Gwenny didn
’
t (because of the roaring in her ears):
‘
The sister
’
s home, and the brother. Folks are saying hereabouts that when those two are ho
m
e together, there
’
s trouble in it somewhere.
’

‘
I see.
’
He looked at the pot the old woman was holding, and nodded.
‘
Very good for our fevers, but not the one she
’
s got. Don
’
t give it to her, please.
’

She sighed.
‘
I thought as much. Felt helpless all along, I did. Can you do aught for the child, sir?
’

He motioned to the doorway where he could talk more freely. When they were well beyond Gwenny
’
s range of hearing, he asked bluntly,
‘
Her father—difficult
?’

Mrs.
Yeedon
’
s face was expressive, though she said dutifully, as became a sometime (if unofficial) midwife and one who had worked with doctors,
‘
He
’
s a good man, though he has his little ways.
’

‘
Quite,
’
said Mark Bayfield. He appreciated her choice of words. To one who knew both
Dr.
Kinglake
’
s son and daughter as well as he did, it was a nice brevity of words about a man whose children clearly took after him. Both Laurence and Priscilla no doubt meant well, but they certainly had their little ways.

‘
It is not, in your considered opinion, likely to make things any easier for Gwenny Kinglake if I take her at once into hospital
?’

Mrs.
Yeedon gave it serious thought, then she pronounced,
‘
No, sir, it would not make things easier. How would it be if you was to take her into hospital on my behalf? Seeing as I
’
m screaming to anyone who
’
ll listen to remove the young lady from my little cottage because I
’
m of the belief she
’
s contagious? You couldn
’
t swear to it that she wasn
’
t, could you, sir?
’

‘
I could not,
’
he gravely informed her.
‘
But I might feel I ought to drive her home, to her own father, considering I
’
m not officially in office until next week.
’

‘
Ah, but then, sir, you see, that wouldn
’
t answer, because I can tell you, seeing as I know, that there
’
ll not be a body in that house. Not even the housekeeper, fat lot of good she
’
d be anyway.
’

‘
Oh? Can you be sure of that
?’

‘
So sure I can tell you where everyone will be!
Mrs.
Kinglake at her meeting,
Dr.
Kinglake fishing, Master Laurence over at Whitegates Farm to look at Dick
’
s finger but mostly to see Dick
’
s sister, the hussy, and the other daughter went to Uxmarket shopping.
’

‘
How do you know all that?
’
Mark Bayfield asked softly. Clearly it would be wise to be on the right side of this old woman, who was such a staunch friend of young Gwenny Kinglake.

‘Mrs.
Kinglake
’
s taken the small car—saw it go by myself. The doctor telephoned the farm where he was going—Joe told me when he brought the milk, and he told me about young Laurence, too.
Mrs.
Trippett saw Joe in the lane and told him about the others and he told me. I don
’
t go out much,
’
she finished with dignity,
‘
so folks keep me posted as to what
’
s going on.
’

‘
I see. Well, it does alter things, doesn
’
t it? It
’
s the hospital, I think. I must do some telephoning.
’

‘
I
’
ve not got one,
’
she said regretfully, but she told him where the nearest callbox was, and watched him go very thoughtfully indeed.

Gwenny was looking at her in a questioning sort of way when she went back.

‘
Dear lamb, can
’
t you say a word, then?
’
the old woman crooned.
‘
He
’
s a very nice man, your new man at Fairmead,
’
she assured Gwenny.
‘
He
’
ll take care of you. He knows more magic than your old Yeedon does. There now, don
’
t fret. Just you do as he tells you, my lamb. I can feel it in my bones: it
’
s going to be all right.
’