Matilda's Wedding. Betty Neels

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      Rastus, nicely full, sat and stared at her. ‘You’re not much help, are you?” said Matilda.

      It was pouring with rain on Monday morning. Matilda, wringing herself dry before she opened the surgery door, mopped her face and tugged her wet hair back into a semblance of tidiness and, still a bit damp, got out the notes for the morning’s patients. She then opened the door, casting a quick look round the waiting room as she did so. It was spotlessly clean and the chrysanthemums she had brought from the garden made a cheerful spot of colour beside the tidy pile of magazines on the table; the place was nicely warm too.

      The first patients arrived, shedding wet macs, umbrellas and leaving muddy marks on the floor, and punctually at eight o’clock the doctor opened his door and requested the first patient.

      By the time the last patient had left it was well past ten o’clock. Matilda started to tidy the place, lock away the notes, rearrange the magazines and collect up forgotten gloves, a scarf or two and a child’s plastic toy, and, tucked away in a corner, a shopping bag of groceries. She would take it over to Mrs Simpkins’ shop since the surgery door would be locked…

      The door opened and the doctor stood looking at her.

      ‘You had better have a cup of coffee before you go,’ he said briskly.

      Matilda put the shopping bag on the table. ‘Thank you, Doctor, but I’d rather not stop.’

      ‘You mustn’t allow hurt pride to interfere with common sense,’ he observed. ‘Far be it from me to send you out into this weather without so much as a warm drink inside you.’

      ‘Hurt pride?’ said Matilda, and then added, ‘Oh, the first morning when you told me not to watch the clock. Oh, that’s all right; I’m not one to bear a grudge!’

      She smiled and went past him into the surgery where the coffee tray stood on his desk.

      ‘You are happy working here?’ asked Dr Lovell, taking his coffee and offering her a biscuit from the tin.

      ‘Yes, thank you.’

      ‘It is rather a quiet life for you,’ went on the doctor. ‘Miss Armstrong wondered if you found life here dull.’

      ‘How kind of her to concern herself about me,’ said Matilda in a quiet voice which gave away none of the powerful rage engulfing her. The interfering busybody… A first step towards getting her the sack.

      ‘She pointed out that you are very young for such a dull job. Of course Miss Brimble was elderly.’

      ‘As long as you are satisfied with my work,’ said Matilda, ‘I wish to stay here. And if I stay long enough I’ll be elderly like Miss Brimble! Won’t I?’

      She put down her coffee cup. ‘Is there anything you would like me to do before I go?’

      ‘No, I think not.’

      ‘Thank you for the coffee. I’ll be here this evening.’

      She skipped through the door, locked up and went out into the rain, crossing the road to the shop.

      ‘Someone left their groceries at the surgery,’ she told Mrs Simpkins. ‘Shall I leave the bag here? Or if you know who the owner is I could take it.’

      ‘Bless you, miss; that’s a kind thought. It’s old Mrs Harding’s weekly shopping. Lives just down the street, number fourteen on the other side. She’s that forgetful. If it’s not troubling you…’

      Mrs Simpkins leaned comfortably across the counter. ‘Saw you in church,’ she said. ‘Very nice you looked, too—a sight better than that madam with our doctor. Mrs Inch— ’is ’ousekeeper, you know—told me she acted like she was in an ’otel. Can’t think what ’e sees in ’er.’

      ‘She’s quite beautiful,’ said Matilda. ‘I’ll have a piece of tasty cheese, Mrs Simpkins, and some of those dry cheese biscuits.’

      Mrs Simpkins reached for the cheese. ‘Bin inside ’is ’ouse? Lovely, so I’m told—furniture ’anded down from way back in the family. Bin in the village for years and years. ’E don’t need to earn ’is living, of course; plenty of family money as you might say. A fine catch for that Miss Armstrong.’

      She reached up for a packet of biscuits. ‘I hear your mum’s going to Lady Truscott’s for the charity committee meeting. Don’t see much of ’er in the village, though. Poorly, is she, like your dad?’

      ‘No, no, Mother’s very well, but you know how it is when you move house. But we’ve settled in nicely and my father is so much better now that he has retired.’

      Matilda said goodbye, and left to deliver the shopping bag, then hurry home in the rain. Mrs Simpkins, watching her go, thought what a dull life she must lead with two elderly parents and no young man.

      Another week went by and another pay day, and even after bolstering up the housekeeping purse and paying the small outstanding debts Matilda had some money. True, her mother had wheedled some of it for herself so that she might go to Taunton once again. She must look her best when she went to Lady Truscott’s, she’d pointed out; she would make do with the clothes she had but her hair must be trimmed and set and a few highlights added. Surely Matilda could understand that. ‘And really you have nothing to spend your money on, Matilda. There’s nothing to be done about your hair except bundle it up like you do, and you don’t need to look fashionable. No one sees you at the surgery and you’ve got that winter coat once it gets really cold.’

      All of which was perfectly true. Matilda said nothing for the simple reason that if she did she might say something she would regret afterwards.

      But on the following Tuesday, her day free until evening surgery, she took the local bus to Taunton. She hadn’t told her mother or father that she was going until she’d taken them their early morning tea.

      ‘That’s right, my dear,’ said her father. ‘You go and have a pleasant day. Have you sufficient money?’

      She kissed the top of his head. ‘Yes, thank you, Father.’

      There was no chance to say more for her mother had sat bolt upright in bed. ‘You’re going to Taunton? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gone with you; I need several things. How thoughtless of you, Matilda—and why do you want to go?’

      ‘To shop,’ said Matilda, ‘and I must go now or I’ll miss the bus. I’ll be back before tea.’

      ‘I should feel mean, but I don’t,’ said Matilda to herself, hurrying down to the bus stop outside Mrs Simpkins’. There were several people there already, and the doctor, standing at his dining-room window, watched her join the little group. He thought idly that if he had known she had wanted to go to Taunton he would have given her a lift for he would be at the hospital for most of the day. He turned away and went to eat his breakfast.

      Matilda hadn’t much money but she knew what she wanted. The doctor only saw her during surgery hours, so it made sense to make herself as attractive as possible during that time. Well, not sense, actually, since he never looked at her, but even if she had no hope that he would like her that wasn’t going to stop her from doing something about her looks.

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