To Please the Doctor Read online

  TO PLEASE THE DOCTOR

  Marjorie Moore

  Dr. Duncan McRey was a most difficult person, thought Jill Fernley, and almost as bad was Brenda Malling, her staff nurse. Jill loved her work in St. Joseph’s Hospital, but hated the intrigues and friction of community life.

  Brenda was jealous of Jill’s success, but why, oh! why had Dr. McRey to be so unfriendly to nurses when he was so gentle with children? Was he like that to all women?

  This was a question which came to concern Jill more and more before at last she found the answer.

  CHAPTER ONE

  There might be, Jill Fernley knew, many places in England with ill-chosen names, but as she was jolted along the front of Sunsand Bay in an ancient station taxi she was quite sure that no resort could be more inappropriately named than this! Firstly, the sea, washing up on the stony shore, had no resemblance whatever to the regular semicircles of the geography books, and no sun could have found the strength to pierce the overhanging mist; the reference to “sand” was nothing less than a gross misrepresentation of the truth since no one, however zealous, could ever have found more than a few grains adhering to those shelving expanses of sea-washed pebbles.

  Turning away from the misted window, Jill leaned back against the worn cushions of the cab. None of these things were really very important since she hadn’t come to Sunsand on a holiday, she’d come to take up the post of Sister at St. Joseph’s Hospital, and neither the geographical nor geological disadvantages of Sunsand really mattered. It would of course, be disappointing if the attractions of the post had been equally misrepresented, but Jill hardly thought that likely. Dr. Laine had not only recommended it but had herself sponsored Jill’s application, and from what Jill could recall of Harriet Laine, she was nothing if not completely reliable.

  It would be grand meeting Harriet again. She was a unique character, and during their school days they had been the greatest of friends. On leaving school Harriet made up her mind to study medicine, but Jill, owing to her father’s death and her mother’s clinging dependence, had been unable at that time to take up a career, and for two wasted years she had accompanied her mother on a dreary round of social activities, bridge afternoons, cocktail parties, and the like, worthless occupations of which Mrs. Fernley never seemed to tire. Nor did she attempt to understand her daughter’s complete indifference. During those years Jill had reluctantly given up any idea of independence and satisfied herself with a few hours of voluntary welfare work at an East End hospital. Her mother’s remarriage suddenly changed everything. Not only was she no longer necessary, but in this changed ménage she did not even feel wanted. It was Harriet who had advised her to take up nursing, and had assured her she was just the type of person needed. Jill had gone into training and, as her friend had prophesied, she passed her exams, with the minimum of effort and rose quickly to be a Staff Nurse at one of the largest General Hospitals in London.

  Eddies of white mist blowing inland from the sea had now completely blotted out the landscape. The promenade—or what apparently passed for a promenade, was entirely deserted and the ugly little shelters, which showed through the mist every few yards, seemed to be the only break in a completely flat landscape. Jill gave an involuntary shudder; she wasn’t easily depressed, but she began to wonder whether a nice steady job as Staff Nurse in a London hospital wasn’t after all preferable to a Sister’s job in the back of beyond!

  The jolting of the taxi now became more definitely pronounced; the mist, too, increased visibility through the window was reduced to nil, and Jill couldn’t help wondering with some dismay whether they were still on the road or whether, confused by the mist, they weren’t now traversing the shingled beach towards the sea! She wasn’t left long in doubt; with a screech of brakes the car drew to a standstill.

  “Dr. Laine’s ‘ouse, Miss.” The taxi man threw open the door and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Jest up the drive, I won’t come no further, the road’s that rough.”

  Jill couldn’t believe that any road could be rougher than the last few yards they had traversed, but since she felt she’d prefer to be on her feet, she let the statement pass. While she searched her bag for the fare the driver set her suitcase on the ground. “Nasty mist comin’ up,” he remarked conversationally. “Won’t be able to see nothin’ in an hour or two.”

  As far as Jill was concerned she could see just “nothin’ ” now, but it was at least gratifying to know that even a “local” had considered the weather worthy of comment, so although it was November, it wasn’t perhaps of such common occurrence as she had feared. Groping her way forward, she found the gate and unhooked it, then, realizing that it had been hooked open and not shut, changed her direction accordingly and advanced along the gravelled drive. No doubt the familiar London ‘Pea Souper’ was much to be deplored, but there was quite a lot to be said for a guiding curb and an occasional lamp-post.

  “So there you are!”

  Jill had never been more pleased to hear a friendly voice and to grasp Harriet’s welcoming hand. She gladly relinquished her suitcase into the care of the waiting maid as Harriet drew her into the hall and closed the door. The contrasting comforts of the cosy lounge hall after the dreary drive from the station was comforting; the room was yet unlighted, but a piled log fire burning brightly in the grate sent dancing shadows across the panelled walls and the dark oak furnishings. With a sigh of sheer joy, Jill crossed the intervening space to the open fireplace and, pulling off her gloves, held her chilled fingers to the blaze.

  “This is wonderful!” She turned a smiling face to her friend. “What a lovely place you have! This room, it’s perfect! Inside anyway, I couldn’t see a foot ahead of me outside.” She laughed as she allowed her companion to relieve her of her coat.

  “You haven’t changed a bit. Do you realize I haven’t seen you for—I suppose it’s nearly four years, isn’t it?” As Jill nodded in agreement, Harriet Laine appraised her friend.

  Jill Fernley certainly made an attractive picture as she stood before the fire. Her soft wool dress displayed the perfectly balanced lines of her figure, and as she sank into the armchair which Harriet indicated, there was a lithe grace in every movement. The flickering shadows from the fire brought a coppery sheen to the brown hair which curled softly like a halo round her head and enhanced the almost transparent fairness of her skin. Her violet eyes, heavily lashed, held a hint of laughter which was reflected in the curving line of her lips and the animation of her expression. It was a vivid face, one not easily forgotten.

  “Well, what’s the verdict?” Jill laughed happily. “You make me feel like a specimen under a microscope. Have I grown old or something?”

  “No I still say you haven’t changed a bit.” Harriet Laine seated herself in the armchair facing her friend. “Last time I saw you was at the Savoy. You remember we had tea together. It was when your mother remarried; you were discussing future plans, it was then I suggested nursing. You haven’t regretted that decision, have you?”

  “Not a bit.” There was no doubting Jill’s sincerity. “I love it.”

  The statement undoubtedly gave Harriet pleasure; her face pleasing, if not beautiful, expressed her delight. “I’m so glad— and this job, I’m thrilled you took my advice and applied for it. It’s just the thing for you.” She stopped speaking as the maid, who had relieved Jill of her suitcase, now returned with a tea trolley. Although pouring out and attending to her guest’s needs, Harriet went on speaking. “St Joseph’s is a general hospital of course. This children’s annexe is a fairly new idea, but it was badly needed and is proving a huge success. I expect Matron told you all about it at your interview with her in London; you’ll have charge of this research job under Dr. McRey. H
e is a brilliant man, and was professor at Edinburgh. I’m lucky to be his assistant, he is a positive inspiration.” She paused as she offered a plate of home-made scones. “A bit tricky to work for perhaps—but you’ll manage all right.”

  Jill looked up quickly; there had been an unmistakable effort on Harriet’s part to gloss over her last words. “Now what exactly does that mean? Come on, Harriet, I know you of old, let’s have the worst,” she persisted with an encouraging smile.

  “I’ve told you, Duncan McRey is difficult, but I get on with him very well. He’s a real Scot and a bit, dour.”

  “I imagined he might be with that name,” Jill commented dryly. “But go on, let me hear the worst.”

  “He hasn’t much time for the social graces—or women, but he is so kind with the children,” she added hastily as if that piece of information might soften the baldness of her former statement. “I tell you he lives for his work, and with the results he achieves, believe me it’s worth living for!”

  For a few moments Jill contemplated her friend in silence. Harriet hadn’t changed either; she would probably always be an ageless person. There was a charm about her smile which made up for any lack of beauty. Her dark hair, severely dressed, added to the calm serenity of her expression. Harriet had never given much time to her appearance, her work had always been the most important factor in her life. “Harriet, you are stalling,” Jill told her severely. “You’ve let me give up a cushy job in London to come to—what? A God-forsaken seaside town which I can’t even see for mist, to work for an impossible Scot who hates women!”

  That’s putting things much too strongly,” Harriet protested with a deep laugh. “This work is interesting, you wouldn’t have got any further at Baldwins, you know that. You were just in a groove. This job’s made for you, so I decided it was time to wake you up.” She handed cigarettes and took one herself, drew deeply, then exhaled before continuing. “I thought it would be a good idea for you to stay with me tonight, we’d get a chance for a long chat, then I’ll take you to hospital tomorrow and introduce you around. It’s a modern building, built on the hut system; you passed it coming from the station. It’s much nearer the town than this place; I’m almost five miles out. Did you see it?”

  “Don’t be silly, I couldn’t see anything; we hadn’t gone five minutes from the station when this mist dropped down.”

  “Duncan has a house quite close to hospital. The other honoraries visit us from London. Duncan hates living in town, so he makes Sunsand his headquarters, although his appointment to the Children’s Hospital in London takes him up there twice a week,” Harriet explained, then enlarged again upon the importance of the work in hand, Duncan McRey’s new techniques in the treatment of children’s diseases, his successes and disappointments, arousing Jill’s interest until she shared her friend’s enthusiasm.

  “It all sounds enthralling,” Jill admitted. “There must be whole fields to explore in chest technique...”

  For the next ten minutes they were so deep in the discussion that they were scarcely aware that the trolley had been removed and only the fast-gathering shadows recalled Harriet to the time. “Goodness! It’s past six! I’ve got one call I must make, it won’t take me long. I’ll show you your room and you can be having a wash while I’m gone.”

  “I’d like that ... I think your maid took my bags up; I sent my trunk direct to hospital. I’ve only a few things with me,” Jill said as she followed her friend up the stairs and into the room which had been prepared for her. It had that same old-world charm as the lounge. Its very simplicity lent an air of warmth and comfort, and the coal fire burning in the grate added a welcoming touch. The drawn chintz curtains shut out the dreary vista of the wintry night, and Jill was deeply aware of that homelike atmosphere so lacking during her years at hospital. She couldn’t help wondering what quarters awaited her at St. Joseph’s; they hadn’t been too good in London, but at least she had got used to them, and through the years managed to imbue them with something of her own personality.

  “Everything you want?” Harriet gave a hasty glance round the room. “Mrs. Sidons, the maid you saw, is a treasure. I leave everything to her. By the way, she’ll be out this evening. I often get my own evening meal; actually I rather enjoy having the place to myself for a few hours. Have a rest and change and I’ll be back in half an hour, then we’ll have a meal and finish our chat.” She crossed to the window and pulled aside a curtain. “The mist seems much worse. I’ve got to get to Stene; it’s only about three miles, but this weather will slow me down, so I may be longer than I said. But don’t worry, I know every inch of the road; anyway, the fog may only be in patches.” Harriet suggested optimistically. “It’s not uncommon in this district, it’s just a sea mist.”

  “I don’t care what you call it,” Jill laughed as, unzipping her dress, she pulled it over her head; for a moment her words were muffled, and Harriet only heard an injunction to go carefully and not to hurry.

  The journey had left Jill feeling untidy and dirty and she was thankful to wash and change her crumpled dress for a comfortable house gown. The soft blue velvet suited her to perfection and enhanced the coppery glints of her hair. It was a relic of the days when she had trailed round fashionable hotels with her mother. With a final glance in the mirror, Jill left her room and descended again to the lounge. Following her hostess’s instructions, she mixed herself a drink from the tray which was already set out on a side table, then taking a cigarette she sat back in the armchair prepared to enjoy a quiet half-hour before the fire.

  Harriet had certainly managed to interest her in the new job which she would start in the morning; she wouldn’t have dreamed of changing if Harriet’s unexpected letter hadn’t spurred her to action. Maybe it was all for the best, change was always good—so long, of course, that it was a change for the better! For a time Jill was entirely lost in her thoughts, then, with a feeling of uneasiness she glanced at the Jacobean clock on the mantel—already past seven ... She rose to her feet and, crossing to the window, drew aside the heavy brocaded curtain. Shading her eyes from the lighted room, she tried to pierce the impenetrable darkness, but without avail. Nothing could be seen, nothing but a swirling mist of fog.

  There was little she could do but await Harriet’s return, so with a shrug of resignation Jill returned to her armchair. She had scarcely settled down when the strident ring of a bell cutting through the silence brought her to her feet. It had been so unexpected that it had been almost frightening, and it was a moment or two before she regained her composure. It could only be the front or back door; possibly Harriet had forgotten her key. Satisfied with the explanation she crossed eagerly to the front door and threw it open. “I’m so glad you are back, I was beginning to worry!” She broke off with a stifled exclamation as a man’s tall figure emerged from the enveloping, mist and, pushing his way unceremoniously past her, entered the hall, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “Don’t stand there with the door wide open, there is enough fog outside without having it inside, too.”

  The words and tone, and indeed the whole appearance of the intruder were so unexpected that Jill stared at him with undisguised astonishment. It may have been due to the low-beamed ceiling of the lounge, but Jill thought he must be the tallest man she’d ever seen. The turned-up collar of his heavy overcoat half concealed his features, but she was aware of a thick thatch of fair hair and a pair of steely blue eyes staring her with unconcealed antagonism.

  “Who on earth are you?”

  The man’s voice was cultured and held a warm resonant quality, but even those assets didn’t, in Jill’s opinion, lessen the abrupt tone of the question. “I think I am entitled to ask that question,” she responded with a quiet dignity, and although she unconsciously pulled herself up to her full height, she felt insignificant beside the man confronting her. “I happen to be a friend of Dr. Laine’s. She is out; if you want to see her perhaps you’ll come back later, she should be in shortly.”

/>   “What, go for a walk—in this—or perhaps wait outside, is that what you mean?” He gave a short laugh, and to Jill’s consternation began to divest himself of his heavy coat. “I’ll wait here if it’s all the same to you,” he announced as he flung his coat over the back of a nearby chair and advanced towards the fire. “Who left that blasted gate swinging, on a night like this, too? It came smash at me, caught me on the hand—look.” He stretched out his hand to display a jagged graze across the knuckles.

  Jill’s momentary fear at the intrusion had now left her; for a brief second she had conjured to her mind every kind of disaster from theft to murder. The stranger’s opening remarks were scarcely encouraging, but there was something about his appearance, divested of his overcoat which allayed any doubts she might have harboured as to his purpose. Appraising his tall figure from beneath her lowered lashes, Jill had to admit that he was, in his own particular way, an extremely attractive person. His eyes beneath low, even brows possessed an uncomfortably penetrating quality, the features were clear cut, the firm line of the jaw almost aggressive yet tempered by an unexpected gentle curve of the lips which Jill felt sure, when he smiled would change his whole expression. His conversation so far had been far from encouraging, yet almost to her own surprise she found herself interested rather than affronted with this man’s attitude. Suddenly she became aware of his hand, which he still held out for her inspection.

  “It’s certainly a nasty cut. Would you like a bandage or something?”

  “Damn carelessness leaving that gate swinging, it might have done even more damage,” he repeated aggrievedly.

  “I rather think I did that, it was so misty when I arrived I didn’t realize...”

  “I might have guessed,” her companion broke in. “Harriet wouldn’t be so careless.” He gave her a scathing glance from beneath lowered brows. “How about that bandage?”