Steady Now Doctor (12 page)

“Darling,” she said, “would you be very understanding and leave me on my own for a few minutes?”

Andy was taken aback, but Mary was so tense and serious he said, “Of course my love,” and went off into the lounge.

Mary stood in the hall for about five minutes, then he heard her wandering through all the rooms of the house accompanied by the small sounds that people make when they pick up objects to examine them and then replace them. She was gone at least a quarter of an hour and Andy had become seriously worried about her when she came into the lounge, tears streaming down her face, and clung to Andy sobbing.

“Oh my love,” said Andy, “have I upset you?”

“No darling,” said Mary slowly composing herself, “I just feel I'm in a fairy-tale. I have been looking around at every nook and cranny of our own house. For the first time in my life I have a home of my very own, and, oh, my dearest, dearest love, I have you. I am truly the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Well,” said Andy relieved, “you happen to be holding on to the luckiest man in the world.”

They stood for a while holding each other until Mary said, “As a good housewife I must get my house in order.”

They began to unpack and put things away. In the kitchen were boxes of goods previously ordered in by Auntie Rob, and enough to feed an army for six months. Mary made sure that everything was unpacked and put in its proper place. There were continual squeals of pleasure as she discovered things she had missed on her first tour of inspection. At last they were finished. They had a cup of cocoa, cuddled up together in the lounge in front of the gas fire and then to bed, exhausted.

On their first morning Andy was woken by Mary bringing in a tray of tea. In the background there was a noise of surf breaking on the beach and seagulls squabbling.

“No tea in bed this morning, I have to show you the real treasures of the house,” said Andy. He slipped on his dressing gown and went outside to move wooden protective shutters from the lounge windows. He came back in, opened the doors and pulled two deck-chairs and a small table out on to the patio. Mary put the tea tray on the table and then took in the panoramic view. The Appledore lifeboat was swinging on its moorings, the trawler, the
Lundy Gannet
, was on its way to Lundy, trying to beat the tide, and the John Bros, ferry was making its way slowly from Instow to Appledore.

“Oh love,” she said, “is all this true? Do you know that this is only one of the few times I have actually seen the sea, it is unbelievable, I feel I'm in a dream. I'm collecting each precious moment just in case something awful comes along to stop it. The very best thing about it all is my most beloved husband. Darling, will you always love me?”

“Well, pixie,” said Andy, “I can only guarantee it until you're eighty five, then you'll have to re-negotiate.”

She managed to kiss him and pour a cup of tea at the same time. “Why do you call me pixie?” said Mary.

“Just because you are a pixie,” said Andy, “you're far too nice to be a human. Perhaps one day we'll find a unicorn together and you can ride it along Instow sands.”

“You're an idiot,” said Mary. “What's the programme today?” “Well,” said Andy, “we have to rouse in three hours and make our way to the Marine Hotel for lunch, then we have to come back here and relax after our efforts and watch the world go by, but first I think we ought to have another snuggle in bed.”

“It sounds perfect,” said Mary, ruffling his hair.

This became the pattern they established over the next few days, patiently and tenderly getting to know each other. On about the fifth morning Andy woke with a start to find the bed beside him empty and strange noises coming from the kitchen. Not waiting to put on his dressing gown he rushed through, alarmed, bursting in the kitchen to find Mary dressed, hair tied up in a scarf, taking crockery out of a cupboard to add to the ever growing pile on the kitchen table.

“Are you all right love?” he queried.

“Of course,” said Mary, “as soon as I've had my good morning kiss.”

“Darling,” she said, standing back, “please indulge me, I am fulfilling a lifetime's ambition, I'm being a housewife,” and she repeated, “it is a lifetime's ambition.”

“So,” said Andy, “you want to spend your honeymoon doing housework.”

“It sounds silly,” said Mary, “but I expect in a way I do, so please don't be cross.”

“I'll make one condition,” said Andy.

“Anything,” said Mary.

“Promise,” said Andy.

“Anything, I promise,” said Mary.

“Well,” said Andy, “I would like to be your first lieutenant and help you.”

“Oh Andy,” said Mary, “you're such a love, these last few days have been heaven, but I've been itching to get my fingers on this, our own house, I want to scrub it from top to bottom and wash all the sheets and curtains. Fancy, I could have a whole line of washing flapping in the breeze, plus, I want to eat you for breakfast, lunch and tea. I nearly asked you last night if I could start to spring clean, but it would have sounded so silly.”

“My love,” said Andy, “I am with you all the way. It is now 7.30 a.m., let's go back to bed for an early breakfast.”

People spend their honeymoons in different ways, few devote it to spring cleaning. For two weeks they turned out the house from top to bottom, the washing line was always full. They went by bus to Bideford and Barnstaple shopping. Andy couldn't keep his eyes off Mary, he had never seen anyone so sublimely happy.

The bulk of their shopping was done from the Post Office stores in Instow where they were soon regulars. One day a tall smiling, handsome-looking lady introduced herself in the shop as Margaret King, wife of Rex King, one of the Consultants who had interviewed Andy when he went up for the job at the North Devon Infirmary. She said that she hoped they would come and have dinner with her once they were installed in the North Devon Infirmary.

“I don't have to ask if you are enjoying your honeymoon,” she said, “you could not look happier.”

“It's just been wonderful,” said Mary, “we've been . . .” and if Andy hadn't pressed his foot hard on hers, she would have plunged into the spring cleaning, laundry, et cetera. She managed to tail off her sentence rather tamely saying, “We've just been pottering about having a lazy time.”

“Well, make the most of it,” said Margaret King, “the rest of married life is just hard work. See you soon,” and strode out of the shop.

“Thank you darling,” said Mary as they walked home, “she would have thought I was a loony if I had really told her what we've been doing. Has it been all right darling? When I look at things from a distance I have been so selfish, what about you, you've been so patient, has it been what you've wanted?”

“There's only one thing I want,” said Andy, “and that is you're just never out of my sight, I've loved every minute of it. It's what you and I want. What other people want or think doesn't matter. I usually make a mess of things, I'm a sort of walking disaster, the most successful thing I have ever done in my life is to persuade you to marry me,” and he kissed her on the nose, “I will cherish you.”

“Vice versa,” said Mary, “I feel so lucky it's like achieving one's wildest dream and finding it's even better than you thought it possible.”

Andy stood back looking at her. “There's something we must do straightaway,” he said.

“What?” queried Mary.

“Dash back, put on our bathing costumes and jump into the sea, otherwise,” he said, “we're going to spontaneously combust.”

They ran back to the house hand in hand laughing like a couple of children.

They were walking along the beach, their arms around each other after dusk settled over the estuary and lights in Appledore across the water began to twinkle.

“Is that the moon shining over there?” said Mary.

“No,” said Andy, “it's your ultra clean house shining.”

“Ouch,” he said as Mary pushed him into a puddle.

“I was wanting to say something serious, or rather ask something serious,” said Mary.

“I know,” said Andy.

“You can't know,” said Mary.

“But I do know,” said Andy.

“All right, clever clogs,” said Mary, “tell me what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest that we ask Auntie Rob and my father down for our last week.”

“That's incredible,” said Mary, “you read my mind.”

“It's quite easy,” said Andy, “all I have to do is to work out what is the nicest possible thought you could have, then name it.”

“God, I love you,” said Mary.

“Vice versa,” said Andy, “and what is more, I completely agree with you.”

“It really would be lovely, our first guests. Oh darling,” said Mary, jumping with excitement, “when can we ask them?”

Andy replied, “I spy a phone box 200 yards down the road.”

The excitement back at home was almost overwhelming. They rang Auntie Rob whose squeaks could be heard down the Instow Prom. She had rushed next door to fetch Andy's father. They had just enough time to decide that they'd be coming down in two days, before Andy ran out of coins.

The next two days were a frenzy of cleaning and shopping. At last the day came with Andy and Mary popping out and looking to see if they were coming. Then suddenly, they arrived and it was all embraces, kissing, and everybody talking. Mary took Auntie Rob off on a tour of inspection, while Andy made a pot of tea.

It was the beginning of another wonderful week and with a car they were able to explore all the local beauty spots, Clovelly, Ilfracombe, the beaches of Croyde, Woolacombe, Westward Ho!, Barnstaple, Bideford, Lynton and Lynmouth, with cream teas in most of them. Mary was turning out to be the daughter that Auntie Rob had never had, and the one his father had always wanted. Mary's happiness was complete now she had real parents who loved her.

Andy used to watch her as she and Auntie Rob clucked round the house doing housewifely things. His father was content to stretch out in a deck chair and watch the goings on on the river.

On the last day of their honeymoon he moved them to their furnished flat in the North Devon Infirmary. It was a spacious three bedroom flat. They knew that they would be able to go to Instow for at least one night a week when Andy had his half day, and every third weekend from Friday night to Monday morning. During their year at the North Devon Infirmary they were to have a month's holiday, so the move was less painful than it could have been.

Auntie Rob and his father were staying on at Instow for a further week. With Auntie Rob making quite sure that it was Mary who had invited her to stay, she wasn't assuming that she had any right to the property.

Alone in the flat, Andy took stock then said, “Well, my love it's work tomorrow.”

“But you love your work darling,” said Mary.

“Yes, perhaps,” said Andy, as he took her in his arms, “but I love you a great deal more.”

Chapter 11

One of Each

The North Devon Infirmary was a lovely old building, much older than St Daniel's and, like St Daniel's, needed a great deal of money spent on it. Unlike St Daniel's though, everything was neat and clean. The vast majority of the nursing staff were local, and all the consulting staff were general practitioners, even though they all sported specialist qualifications, FRCS, MRCP and one FRCP. There was a happy atmosphere of kindness and caring. Both Andy and Mary settled in immediately.

The resident hospital staff consisted of Andy, Senior House Officer, or Junior Registrar if you wanted to flatter him, and both a pre-Registration House Physician and House Surgeon - in this case, both girls doing their first hospital jobs. In addition to all his many duties, Andy had to see the girls through procedures like lumbar punctures, putting up drips and giving simple anaesthetics in Casualty, in much the same way that David Hudson had instructed him in his first job at St Daniel's.

The new aspect of Andy's work was obstetrics and gynaecology. He had done his routine twenty deliveries as a student at St Jane's but that seemed 100 years ago. The North Devon Infirmary only took in abnormal deliveries, often very abnormal.

There were only twelve maternity beds in the hospital to serve an area stretching from Bude in North Cornwall to Lynton and Lynmouth. There was no way you could just decide to come into hospital and have your baby just because you wanted to. Unless there was some complication, it was a home birth or in one of the maternity nursing homes scattered through the district, many of which had virtually no equipment, but they did have electric light and running water, which was not always available at home. In his early general practice days, Andy always swore that he'd delivered by the light of a burning faggot.

At the Infirmary Andy learnt how to put on forceps, and was even allowed to do a Caesarean operation before his year was up.

Mary had been put as a Senior Nurse on Fortescue Ward under the care of the short, almost square, bespectacled Sister Sweet who was sweet by name and sweet by nature. Mary was impressed by the friendliness of everyone, both nurses and patients. It took her a little while to realize that most of the staff knew many of the patients outside the hospital and were answerable to them and their families in and out of hospital. There was a lot to be said for this formula, it led to the high standard of care both nursing and medical.

Andy and Mary did not fraternize in the hospital itself, and the fact that she was the wife of a doctor did not inhibit her colleagues. She soon made friends, and before long the flat was full of nurses and their boyfriends enjoying parties and trips to the beach. Andy and Mary tended not to ask people out to Instow, keeping this precious portion of time to themselves. They were both very busy and very happy.

The midwifery, which took up a lot of Andy's time, was one area of medicine where you could almost guarantee a happy ending. The two pre-Registration House girls, Pamela and Alice, were both hard workers but were, of course, inexperienced and needed a lot of mothering, Alice more than Pam.

Pam was a short-haired elfin type of girl, but always in command. Any man in Casualty who got a bit fresh was soon put in his place. Alice, on the other hand, was very religious, prone to tears, and highly indignant when Rex King, her physician referred to her as ‘an accessory nipple'.

He had written a prize-winning paper on this subject.

What we often take for moles in our chests are in fact accessory nipples, a reptilian manifestation and, as Rex would say, “a remnant of primitive physiological mechanisms”. People who had these moles or nipples had special links with asthma and eczema and Rex always got excited whenever a patient, man or woman, appeared with them. He kept in his office, a print of a picture of a woman feeding from three breasts. Alice did not like this at all.

Both Dr and Mrs King were very kind to Andy and Mary, often having them to meals. Margaret King had been a nurse and living close to Instow they were the privileged two who did get invited to Andy and Mary's home. Andy thought that Rex was the best instinctive diagnostician he had ever met and throughout his medical career he never met his equal.

The weeks flew by. They loved the precious weekends when they were able to get to the house at Instow. Mary was always doing something to improve it, painting, putting up curtains, and prowling round second-hand and antique shops and, after storms, beach combing, so the house gradually began to fill up with glass fishing floats, corks from nets and pieces of wood in such strange shapes that they could have been sculpted.

It was soon summer to enjoy a whole month off, the hospital getting a locum to cover Andy's absence. Auntie Rob and his father came down for the first week, and they were no intrusion. It was such a pleasure to have them and to see their pleasure in coming. Auntie Rob had baked enough food to last them months, and in addition, she'd brought a host of other presents.

Andy remembered how, before his mother's death, they almost scorned this lonely widow who was their neighbour, nothing malicious was intended, it was just the way people who have lost their partners tend to be treated. Perhaps as a single person they offer a sort of threat, a loose missile. Even people like Auntie Rob, who was no threat to anyone. Safely married couples clung together. When they lost a partner, friends or neighbours initially did everything they could to help and support them, then tended to veer away and treated them as if they were odd, often creating eccentrics. But now Auntie Rob had an escort in Andy's father, a most beloved daughter in Mary and a loved son in Andy. She'd never been happier and life had never been fuller.

It was a good summer and for the next three weeks after they'd gone Andy and Mary were almost continually in their swimming things. With the help of Auntie Rob and his father they had acquired a dinghy with an outboard motor and a lug sail. They went up the Torridge on the tide as far as Weare Gifford for picnics and cream teas and down river on a calm day over the Bar to fish for mackerel. They had a day on Lundy Island travelling there and back on the
Lundy Gannet
, climbing up the steep cliff to the plateau with the pub, the church, a few cottages, wild goats, peacocks and some cattle.

A few days before their holiday was due to end, Mary said plaintively, “Couldn't we stay here for ever?”

“Sadly there's no chance, my love,” said Andy, “there is not likely to be a vacancy in the practice around here for years, I've been looking. It's down to poring through the Medical Journals when we get back. I have to learn to drive and we have to acquire a car.”

“Oh dear,” said Mary, “that reminds me, I've got my finals in four months, I know I shall fail.”

Andy took her face in his hands and said, “In the whole course of human history it has never been known for the wife of a knight in shining armour to fail her nursing finals, especially when she is a pixie.”

“You're just a gorgeous idiot,” said Mary, “why do you keep on calling me pixie?”

“Just because you are a pixie,” said Andy.

“You really are an idiot,” said Mary, “and you make me so happy, if I were to die tomorrow.”

Andy stopped her almost curtly. “Don't ever say that my love,” and quite suddenly the room that had been filled with warmth and laughter seemed cold.

“I'm sorry,” said Mary, “I forget sometimes about your mother, will you forgive me if I make you some egg and chips?”

“Only on one condition,” said Andy.

“Anything,” said Mary.

“Well, you must let me stick my chips in the yolk.”

Life was still good when they returned to the North Devon Infirmary after their month's holiday, but not quite so good as it had been before. Great changes in their lives were looming ahead. Andy had been taking driving lessons, but he was not a natural and failed his first test. Now there was a panic with extra lessons to get him through by the end of the year. This was essential if they were to go into general practice as they hoped. Some of his weekends off were taken up going for interviews for practice vacancies. He was singularly unsuccessful, except on one occasion when having obviously failed in his interview, and not much liking the partners who interviewed him, having reached the surgery door to leave, was called back to find the attitude of the partners completely changed, now almost subservient.

“Excuse me,” said the senior partner, in the friendliest of tones, “are you by chance
the
Dr Andrew Howard who hooked for the St Jane's Rugby team?”

“Yes,” said Andy, puzzled.

“Well,” said the senior partner, almost incontinent with excitement, “the post here is yours if you want it.”

Andy floundered, tried to look keen, thanked them profusely and said how grateful he was but that he would just have to consult his wife. He left beaming faces, knowing full well there was no way he would go there again. He got back to Barnstaple as quickly as he could. When he got back in the flat with Mary she couldn't believe it.

“Do you mean to say they changed their minds just because you were good at hooking a ball out of the scrummage of players?”

“Yes,” said Andy, “it makes you sick. Here we are desperate to get into general practice and the only one that invites me is not because I am a good doctor, it's because I was a good hooker. I wasn't even a good rugby player.”

They had, together, to write a most careful letter saying how sorry they were that they were not accepting this particular post.

Mary had seen Andy play rugby. On two or three Saturdays, he played for Barnstaple, who had a first class team. He played for Barnstaple against Bideford in the local derby, Mary watching with Rex King. It was a real local derby, friendly but really tough, and Andy came out very bruised and battered, limping with one hand lacerated.

“You must make him stop this game,” said Rex, “however much he loves it. Nobody in general practice wants a partner who can't use his legs and hands,” and that was the last game Andy played.

Andy was almost in despair of finding a practice that he liked before his term at the North Devon Infirmary finished. Each week he scrutinized the pages of the
British Medical Journal
, nothing really interested him, and he didn't get interviews from those he wrote to. Then one week, unexpectedly there appeared the plummiest of all practices, not too many details about it, but it was Kangerford on the River Thames in the Thames Valley. He thought there would be thousands applying for it, but nothing ventured nothing gained, so he wrote off his usual letter. To his great surprise he was summoned for an interview. He went up by train and took a branch line from Reading to a small station called Cholsey, and then on to a tiny terminal line to Kangerford itself. He was able to walk down from the station, and having a few minutes to spare, he walked round this lovely little market town. He thought how lucky he would be to land this, but the chances must be just about nil.

Two very pleasant elderly doctors greeted him at their surgery which was a building in the grounds of a small community hospital. They were quite honest, they were both feeling their age, they wanted some new blood to do their midwifery and perhaps a great deal of the night calls. They offered him the job almost before he sat down. He couldn't understand it, perhaps there was some catch and they had not been able to get anybody. It seemed unlikely, but on the other hand this was really a plum practice.

“Have you had many applicants?” asked Andy, puzzled by being accepted so easily.

“Seventy-three to be exact,” said Stephen Hewitson, the senior of the two. “If you are puzzled why we have offered you the job so early, you will have to speak to my favourite nephew, a certain Dr David Hudson of St Daniel's Hospital, he said we could not do better than you. He does visit us from time to time, so if you do join us you will see something of him again.”

“Good old David,” said Andy.

“Of course,” they said, “do bring your wife up to meet us and have a good look round before you decide.”

Dr Shaw, the junior of the two, took him round to look at the surgery and at the empty flat upstairs which was usually used for putting up locums but would be available for Andy's use if he took the job. They also had a look around the little community hospital which had some geriatric beds, about eight midwifery beds and a Casualty department. It all looked too good to be true.

Two weeks later he came up with Mary. Everybody liked each other on sight and the area, though not quite like Instow, was a very close second. There was a lovely little town, plenty of open country and the river. Both of the partners' wives, Mrs Hewitson and Mrs Shaw, were ex-nurses and of course had known each other for years and made Andy and Mary most welcome.

On the way back on the train Andy said, “Aren't we lucky.”

Mary kissed him on the nose. “They're lucky to get you,” she said.

“Rubbish,” said Andy, “you're just prejudiced. All we have to do now is to get through my driving test.”

“Hmm,” said Mary, “there is also the small matter of my finals.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry love,” said Andy, “I'm being selfish, I'm sure you'll pass.”

They snuggled up together and dozed for the long journey back to Devon.

Andy did pass his driving test but had become increasingly worried about Mary. Her exams seemed to have got to her. She looked pale, and wasn't eating much.

“Please don't worry,” said Andy, “we have a good future all fixed. It would be lovely if you got your exams, but it isn't life and death.” Andy had not seen Mary behave like this before. He thought he was the main worrier of the two.

The exams arrived and Mary was physically sick before both the two written papers. She really did not look well. Then the final day, the viva voce. Mary was sick in the morning again.