A Kind of Magic. Betty Neels

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      ‘Scissors, please,’ said Rosie, ‘a bowl of cold water and a napkin. How long will it take the doctor to get here?’

      She took her grandmother’s hand and gave it a heartening squeeze. ‘I’m so sorry, Granny, we’ll have you comfortable in a little while.’ She was carefully cutting the black stocking, and easing it off the swollen foot.

      ‘I don’t know much about it, but I don’t think it’s broken. I’m going to lay a cold cloth over it. There…and if someone will help me we’ll put some cushions behind you; you’ll feel easier sitting up a little.’

      One of the waitresses came in with a cup of tea, and the hotel owner came back to say that most fortunately Dr Finlay at Crianlarich had just returned from early-morning fishing, and was driving over. They were to make the patient comfortable, but were not to move her.

      Rosie studied her grandmother’s pale face anxiously. ‘How far away is Crianlarich?’ she asked,

      ‘Twelve miles, but it’s a good road. He’ll be a wee while yet; ye’d best have a cup of tea while waiting.’

      She drank her tea gratefully, applied more cold cloths, and made quiet, heartening small talk—to be interrupted suddenly by Mrs Macdonald.

      ‘We are so near home…’

      ‘Would you like me to telephone Uncle Donald, Granny? Perhaps we could…?’

      ‘Certainly not. When your father saw fit to let Donald have his family home I washed my hands of the whole affair.’

      Rosie murmured a nothing. She knew that her grandmother had blamed her father for leaving Scotland, and that he had never told her how he had come to lose most of his capital and been forced to make the heart-rending decision to hand over the house to his prosperous cousin. Privately Rosie had never understood why her uncle couldn’t have lent her father the money to come about, but he was a hard man, made harder by the wealth he had acquired by marrying an heiress. She had never liked him anyway; years ago when she had been on a visit to his house she had come upon him beating one of his dogs. She had caught his arm and hung on to it and kicked his shins, calling him a brute, and then screaming at the top of her voice until several people came running to see what was the matter. He had never forgiven her for that.

      Her grandmother was looking alarmingly pale. Rosie renewed the cold compress, persuaded her grandmother to take a sip of brandy, and prayed silently that the doctor would come soon.

      Her prayers were answered; the slight commotion in the hotel entrance heralded the doctor’s arrival.

      He came in unhurriedly, an immensely tall, broad-shouldered man, dark-haired and dark-eyed with a long straight nose and a firm mouth. He wasted no time.

      ‘Doctor Cameron,’ he stated. ‘Doctor Finlay was called to a birth, and he asked me to take over. What is the trouble?’

      He gave Rosie a nod and a quick questioning glance; she could have been yesterday’s newspaper, she reflected with a touch of peevishness.

      ‘My grandmother fell. Her ankle is swollen and very painful…’

      He took Mrs Macdonald’s hand. ‘A nasty shock for you, Mrs…?’

      ‘Macdonald,’ said Rosie. ‘My grandmother is eighty years old.’

      He gave her a look which put her in her place. ‘Let’s look at it.’

      He was very gentle, keeping up a steady flow of quiet questions as he examined the swollen joint. ‘A sprain—a nasty one, but I think nothing is broken. It will be best if you stay here in bed for a few days with your ankle bandaged, and when you are more yourself you must go to Oban and have an X-ray. You live in Scotland?’

      ‘Edinburgh. My granddaughter and I were taking the train tour of the Highlands.’ Mrs Macdonald opened her eyes and studied his face. ‘And where are you from, may I ask?’

      He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’m staying with Doctor Finlay for some fishing.’ He smiled at her suddenly and with great charm. ‘Now I want you to rest quietly while that ankle settles down. I shall write you up for something to relieve the pain, and within a couple of days or so you should be well enough to go for an X-ray. If it is, as I think, a sprain, then there is no reason why you shouldn’t go home and rest there. Now I am going to strap it firmly, and later, when you may get up, a viscopaste stocking must be applied.’

      Mrs Macdonald might be a crotchety, selfish old lady but she had courage; she uttered no sound as he attended to the ankle, and when Rosie said urgently, ‘Oh, Granny’s fainted!’ the doctor said calmly, ‘Good, pass me that crêpe bandage and let us get finished before she comes round.’ He gave her a quick look. ‘You have arranged to stay here?’

      ‘Not yet.’ She spoke sharply, ‘I’ve had no time.’

      ‘Well, see about it now, will you? Get a room, and I’ll carry Mrs Macdonald up, then you get her undressed and in bed, and I’ll take another look at her before I go.’

      There were two rooms on the first floor, she was told, with a communicating door and, providing she was prepared to pay for it, fortunately room service was available.

      ‘Good, we’ll have them. Could someone get the bed ready for my grandmother? The doctor will carry her up…’

      There were plenty of willing helpers; Mrs Macdonald was carried up to her room and laid on the bed, and a chambermaid stayed to help get her into bed, offering a nightie and extra pillows, and helping Rosie to arrange a chair at the foot of the bed so that the bedclothes might be draped over it.

      The doctor nodded approvingly when he came to see his patient again.

      ‘Your grandmother will do very well,’ he observed. ‘I can see that you’re a sensible lass. From these parts?’

      ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Well, I was born near here but we live in England now.’

      He stood studying her, looking down his long nose in a manner which she found annoying. ‘Married?’

      ‘No.’

      He smiled. ‘A woman of refreshingly few words.’ Then he added to surprise her, ‘Are you all right for money?’

      ‘Why, yes, thank you. It is kind of you to ask.’

      ‘Nothing kind about it—common sense in the circumstances. It would have gone on the bill.’

      She ignored this. ‘Will you come to see my grandmother again? She is old, it must have been a shock…’

      ‘I’ll be over tomorrow, in the morning.’ He stared at her, and added, ‘Unless you would rather Dr Finlay took over the case?’

      ‘Why do you say that? Granny is perfectly satisfied…’

      ‘Good.’ He spoke carelessly. ‘Perhaps by tomorrow you and I will like each other a little better. Good day to you, Miss Macdonald.’

      He had gone leaving her bewildered and decidedly ill-tempered.

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