Promise the Doctor (8 page)

Discussion about the hospital, Matron Penrose and the girl with the dog whose name Pete was annoyed with himself to discover he’d forgotten to ask lasted them most of the way home. By that time Joy had decided the episode of the night they had first been to see Fernbank was over and forgotten between them, but when she invited Pete in to share their evening meal as he had done all these long years past, he shook his head.

‘I’d rather not, Joy, thank you all the same,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want to upset you any more before you go. I’ve enjoyed today,’ he added unexpectedly, ‘and I hope it won’t be long before I’m back with you all again, then things can go on as they used to do.’

‘Maybe so,’ Joy agreed as they said goodnight and she turned into her home alone, but she knew in her heart that things would never ‘go on’ between herself and Pete in the old way, not ever again, and somehow she hoped with all her heart that he might encounter someone else, someone like the girl whose dog had run away, in whom he could really be interested and who would be interested in him and with whom he could and would fall deeply and sincerely in love.

There was little further time to worry-about either Pete or anyone else. Her goodbyes to Marcia and the others at the Wilborough General had to be said, her farewell made to Matron, then she was walking down the steep hill and to the bus home for the very last time.

The week which followed was a chaotic blur ever afterwards in Joy’s mind. She had not realized that in almost twenty years of living in one house, a family could collect so much stuff which was not worth their while to take with them when they left!
At’
last everything was sorted, crated and packed. The great day arrived, and Mr. Anderson came down to their house to tell them Doctor Quentin had telephoned to say the ambulance would be along in about half an hour.

‘I don’t want to get there first and be all by myself with a pair of strangers!’ Lana wailed, and refused to be consoled until Joy volunteered to ride in the ambulance with her and would, therefore, be there when Lana arrived.

The moving van, a very large one, went off with the twins sitting at the front with the driver and his mate. Aileen, who had said she and Cousin Emma would travel down by train, was surprised and obviously more than a little touched when, at the last moment, just as she was saying an almost tearful farewell to Mrs. Jarvis who had been’ her neighbour for twenty years, Pete arrived and announced that he had managed to get the afternoon off and would drive Aileen and Emma in the wake of the ambulance and the furniture van.

The ambulance went first, and the last Joy saw of Cranberry Terrace was the furniture van outside the door of her late home, her mother and Cousin Emma standing by Pete’s mini, and those neighbours with whom they had grown friendly over the years offering advice and help whether it was wanted or not.

The journey, so far as the ambulance and the driver and his helper were concerned, was quite uneventful, but Lana, who could see nothing from where she lay, grew bored and fretful as the miles sped by. It was all in vain for Joy to talk to her of the beauties of the May countryside through which they were speeding. She could see nothing of it, and although Joy opened the windows so that the scent of the freshly growing countryside could reach her, Lana still grumbled and remained irritable throughout the long journey.

Joy was heartily thankful when the ambulance at last turned in at the Shore Road. In a few minutes, she thought, she would be able to distract Lana’s attention from the slight discomforts of the journey, and in new surroundings and amongst new faces, it would not be long before her sister set out to charm everyone, as she always did. The ambulance stopped at the gates of Fernbank, and to Joy’s unutterable relief she saw Quentin Moyser leave his own car across the road and station himself at the gates of the house as the men opened the doors of the ambulance and prepared to lift Lana out.

Accustomed as she was to the effect of her sister’s undeniable beauty on those who encountered it for the first time, in some way it had never occurred to Joy to think of what possible effect Lana might have on Quentin. She need not, she felt, wait for words. One look at his face as he smiled down at the fragile figure on the stretcher seemed enough to tell her all she wanted to know. With a muttered word or two about going inside to tell Mrs. Wrenshaw they had arrived, she left them, Quentin still standing at the head of the stretcher, but as she talked to the sympathetic housekeeper and her husband, she felt the first cloud pass over what had seemed such a cloudless and promising future not only for her little family, but for her own happiness in the days which lay ahead.

CHAPTER VIII

There was little time for introspection that first evening. The twins and Aileen, and Cousin Emma too despite the fact that her rheumatism was paining her rather more than usual, insisted on a complete tour of the house, from the deep, mysterious old-fashioned cellars to the attics themselves.

‘You go ahead and take your dear ma round, Miss Joy,’ Mrs. Wrenshaw insisted. ‘I’ll get some tea ready for everyone. I have most of it ready, so it won’t take many minutes, but you’ll have time for a quick sort of general inspection, as it were. I hope,’ she went on anxiously, ‘you don’t mind me calling you Miss Joy and Miss Lana? You see, when the three Miss Barnes were all here it seemed easier to say Miss Muriel, Miss Una and Miss Laura rather than to have to say a great deal more to make certain their father knew which one I was talking about.’

‘We don’t mind in the least,’ Joy assured her. Lana, she noted, was already talking animatedly to Quentin, who had drawn up a chair by the side of her couch. ‘Come along, Mum,’ she invited, leading the way up the wide stairs. She must not, she reminded herself firmly, look as though the attention Lana was already receiving was hurting her as quickly as this! In an effort to show she was totally carefree, she hurried her little party from room to room, scarcely conscious that Pete had installed himself at the tail end of the procession and was making his usual careful survey of his surroundings.

‘If nobody else wants it,’ Aileen said wistfully as they came back to the ground floor, ‘I’d like
very
much to have the room you said was the mo
rn
ing-room in the old days, as a bed-sitting-room or else a small office. I looked round as we came through, and there appears to be plenty of scope for a secretarial bureau.’

‘There’s a great deal more in the town itself, Mrs. Benyon,’ Pete confirmed. ‘I think it’ll go like a bomb!’

‘If I can build up a nice steady business that will do for me,’ Aileen said firmly. ‘I’m not like you young things, wanting the earth on a platter in under five minutes!’

Laughing and talking together, with Mr. and Mrs. Wrenshaw reluctantly consenting to take their tea with the friendly family, Joy soon forgot the slight unease which had swept over her when she had first seen Quentin and her sister together.

Quentin, who had accepted a cup of tea but refused to eat, saying that his mother would have prepared a meal and would be expecting him at home, came abruptly from Lana’s side and stood beside Joy’s chair, stooping so that he could speak under the cover of the conversation without any of the others hearing what he had to say.

‘What a beautiful girl your sister is,’ he began. ‘It’s more than a shame she should be tied to that couch or her bed! I honestly don’t think she need be housebound much longer, though. I’ve had a chat with her, and she’s to come to St Lucy’s in the morning for an examination. We’ll know then if my diagnosis is confirmed or not. If it is, then I’m certain we will be able to help her. She’s hurt inside,’ he added abruptly. ‘We must find her some means of wanting to live again, to belong.’

‘That’s what the other doctors have said, I told you,’ Joy answered quietly. ‘It’s my own firm conviction as well. But I’ve tried everything I can think of.’

‘Then we must think of something else, mustn’t we?’ Quentin commented agreeably, placing his cup on the table and preparing to leave. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow evening, maybe,’ he said before he left. ‘I do casualty duty one morning and two evenings a week at St Lucy’s. They’re very short-staffed, you know.’

Joy made no comment, and the twins, who had taken to Doctor Quentin without any reservations, accompanied him to the door. Joy looked across at where Lana was lying, an open book on her knees, but her sister was not looking at the opened page. She was staring into space and a strange little smile played round the corners of her lovely mouth, just as though, Joy thought bemusedly, she had secret dreams of her own which she could not or would not share with any of them.

Pete left early, as he had only been granted the afternoon free from business and still had the drive back. Aileen looked questioningly at Joy as he rose to go, but Joy made no move, and it was left to Aileen to see him off. She came back to the others, a little sad, for after all these years it was like seeing one of her own family leave the nest and she felt much as she had done when Joy had gone off to do her training.

‘Pete seems delighted with the place and the town,’ she reported. ‘I don’t think it will be long before he’s found a niche for himself around these parts. Thank goodness there’s plenty of room in Fernbank. There’s even a little shed at the bottom of the garden where he can do all the pottering he wants to do with his car, his bits of woodwork and his photography and the like without getting in anyone else’s way.’

‘I’m going up to bed, if you don’t mind, Mother,’ Joy bent and kissed Aileen goodnight. ‘I think everyone knows where he or she is to sleep and all the rest of it. I want an early start to my day tomorrow. I don’t intend to be late!’

‘And we’ll have an early start doing something about all this excess of furniture and what-have-you,’ Aileen spoke to Mrs. Wrenshaw as she too rose to follow her daughter. ‘Whatever else we do, though’—she glanced round the dining-room at the dark red paper, the brown glossy paint—‘we must do something to lighten and brighten this place up a little. I can’t
bear
to live in drab surroundings.’

‘There’s a man—a retired man—lives just down Russet Drive,’ Mrs. Wrenshaw informed them. ‘He’s very good at paper-hanging and painting and all that sort of thing. Been in the decorating business all his life, and he only said last week he was bored to tears since he had retired ... he might welcome a job like this where he could take his time. You wouldn’t
want it
all done in a great hurry, would you?’ she ended anxiously.

‘My goodness, no!’ Aileen laughed. ‘That would be both too great an upheaval and too expensive. One room at a time, starting’—she wrinkled her brow—‘in here, I think. But we can go into all that tomorrow. Lana dear, Mrs. Wrenshaw has made up your bed in what apparently used to be the study. You can have your couch wheeled from there into the conservatory and from there out into the garden on fine, warm days. Cousin Emma, will sleep downstairs too, there’s a charming alcove in what’s now to be your bedroom, and it just takes a three-quarter bed. You won’t be alone at night then, and also it will save Cousin Emma having to climb the stairs so often.’

The twins, who had been given adjoining bedrooms, went off first, protesting loudly that tomorrow they intended to move themselves and their possessions up to two of the attics. At last all was quiet and peaceful, and the household settled down to sleep, but Joy lay wide awake for a long time, listening to the sound of the sea which was sufficiently close as to be soothing and yet far enough away not to be, at this time of the year at any rate, disturbing.

If coming to Vanmouth meant new life for Lana, then it was indeed wonderful, and she would be grateful to Miss Barnes to the end of her days. If their coming to Vanmouth was going to bring happiness to Quentin Moyser, if he was going to find his happiness with the lovely Lana whom he was so certain he could help to recovery, then Joy was happy for his sake. It would be enough, she told herself, and at the time she firmly believed it, knowing little of the ways and wounds of love, if she could know
he
was happy and that Lana loved him as Joy felt certain he would love Lana. The adoration, she told herself, was there in his eyes as he looked at her, as it had been in the eyes of so many men, ever since Lana entered her teens.

But Lana had a hard streak which only those who knew and loved her well realized was there. Lana loved money and the power money brought. She joked about it, laughed about it, but all her life she had resented the fact that they were not rich people. Would she love Quentin enough not to mind that he was not unduly wealthy, that although, as he had told Joy, the practice was a good one, there was always a lot of money going out, and he was by no means a millionaire?

‘I won’t let her hurt him,’ Joy vowed as she tried again to settle off to sleep, but even as she closed her eyes she knew there was as yet no answer to the question ... what could she do to prevent such a disaster happening to the man to whom she herself was so suddenly and so deeply attracted?

She was up early and almost ready to leave the house when a young man driving a battered little two-seater ran down the path and knocked at the door. Joy, who had been on the point of opening the door to go out, stared up at him.

‘Nigel Webster, at your service,’ he noted the clean, crisp uniform and grinned at her. ‘I’m a houseman at St Lucy’s, Sister Benyon. Doctor Moyser senior asked me to call and collect you. There isn’t enough accommodation up there at the hospital, so one or two of us live out. I can call for you whenever I’m not on night duty,’ he added quickly, running ahead and opening the door of the car for her. ‘Saves all that walk up the hill. It’s pleasant enough, but a drag.’

‘Nothing like the sharp, steep hill to Wilborough General though,’ Joy said thankfully. ‘I used to be quite breathless when I got to the top if I’d missed the early bus and was a little late. I intend to get some sort of vehicle for myself, though, now we’re here. But,’ she added disconsolately, ‘I’ll have to learn to drive first.’

‘I’ll teach you, if you like,’ Nigel offered. ‘We must get together and arrange it,’ but although she thanked him Joy knew she would do no such thing. She would go to the motoring school of which she had been told. She didn’t intend to start off her career at St Lucy’s by having her name coupled with that of a young houseman, however friendly he appeared to be.

The day passed pleasantly and quickly enough. Joy saw nothing of her sister, although she heard from Nurse Byecroft, a friendly girl who appeared to know whatever was going on in all departments of St Lucy’s, that Lana’s appointment with the specialist was fixed for ten-thirty that morning.

When Joy returned home at the end of the day, being driven back to the shore road end by another friendly nurse who shared a car with her sister, it was to learn that Quentin had just called and left again.

‘He said to tell you his diagnosis was correct,’ Lana reported suspiciously. ‘Just what did he mean by that? Does that mean I have to go into hospital again? He left a note for you ... over there.’ She pointed with one long, slender finger with its freshly painted nail.

‘Thanks.’ She ripped open the envelope and drew forth the single sheet of notepaper covered in a surprisingly clear and readable handwriting. It did not take many minutes to read the brief note, then she glanced across to where Lana was watching, openly suspicious of Quentin’s verdict.

‘Well?’ Lana demanded as Joy still stared at the unmistakable signature ‘Always yours, Quentin’. With an effort she pulled herself together and told herself not to be idiotic enough as to read meanings into things which were probably never intended. Maybe, since he was such a naturally friendly person, this was his customary method of signing letters which were personal rather than purely of business purpose.

‘Doctor Quentin simply says he agrees with the specialist opinion and that a physiotherapist, a Miss Amy Calvin, will call here two mornings each week, beginning in the morning. Also a masseur, a Mr. Hugh Tate, will call twice each week from now onwards, beginning the day after tomorrow, and that in a few weeks’ time you should be able to attend the outpatients’ department at St Lucy’s, so,’ she added more to herself than to Lana who had apparently lost interest once she knew the verdict upon herself, ‘I shall have to get my little car as quickly as possible and try and get enough lessons in to pass the test before you start there!’

‘If Doctor Quentin and his father have as much influence as all that,’ Lana retorted crisply, ‘then I don’t see why an ambulance can’t come for me when I start with the clinic, if I ever do.’

‘I think you will.’ Joy suddenly was certain that this indeed was the beginning of a new phase for them all, Lana included. Just how or in what way Quentin’s treatment was going to help she did not allow herself to stop and think, but somehow she was very certain things were going to change.

Her opinion did not alter as the days went by. Doctor Franklyn had always called once or twice each month, to check on Lana’s general health and to try yet again to urge her to make the attempt to enter once more into general living. Nurse Brown, the friendly district nurse who had served the Wilborough area which embraced Cranberry Terrace, had called regularly to give Lana her bath and to see that lying in bed and on her couch so many hours of every day she did not develop sore patches on her skin, the curse of those confined to their beds for any length of time.

Now, she found, Doctor Quentin called in
every
day, seldom at the same time for two days in succession, but always, before the little household went to bed at night, his car had been parked outside, sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes, often in the evenings, for an hour or more.

By the middle of June, when Lana’s couch had been wheeled daily into the garden now bursting into a glorious mass of perfume and glowing colour, and Lana herself had begun to develop the beginnings of an attractive light tan, Joy found she was growing almost reconciled to the fact that Doctor Quentin was paying court to her sister, although Lana, having asked many questions and memorized the answers, about the difficulties of being the wife of a busy general practitioner, and about the income and outgo of a shared practice such as Quentin had with his father, certainly offered him little encouragement.

‘She’s friendly and polite enough,’ Joy mused one afternoon when she was off duty, ‘but nothing more. And I’m not certain I can see any great improvement in her interest in living, though I must say her general health appears to have improved. Quentin must feel he’s rather hitting his head against a brick wall, trying to rouse her from this deadly feeling of being reconciled to remaining a beautiful log to the end of her days.’