Matilda's Wedding Read online

  He didn’t answer, merely stood aside for her to follow him back into the surgery. As they went in, the door leading to the house opened and a tall, bony woman came in with a tray of coffee.

  Matilda bade her good morning. ‘How nice—coffee, and it smells delicious.’

  The doctor eyed her with an inscrutable face. Matilda had seemed so meek and quiet during her interview. He said firmly, ‘While you drink your coffee, please make a note of various instructions I wish to give you.’

  She didn’t need to look at him to know that she had annoyed him. She said, ‘I talk too much,’ and opened her notebook, her nose quivering a bit at the aroma from the coffee pot.

  ‘Be good enough to pour our coffee, Miss Paige. I should point out that, more frequently than not, you may not have time for coffee. This morning was a very small surgery and normally I depart the moment the last patient has gone, leaving you to clear up and lock the door and the cabinets. I should warn you that the evening surgery is almost always busy.’

  He opened a drawer and handed her a small bunch of keys. ‘If I am held up then I rely upon you to admit the patients and have everything ready, or as ready as possible, for me. Miss Brimble was most efficient; I hope that you will be the same.’

  Matilda took a sip of coffee. Strange, she mused, that, of all the millions of men in the world, she should have fallen in love with this coldly polite man with cold blue eyes and, for all she knew, a cold heart as well.

  ‘I shall do my best to be as like Miss Brimble as possible,’ she told him, and after he had given her a list of instructions she asked, ‘Do you want me for anything else, Doctor? Then I’ll just tidy the waiting room and lock up.’

  He nodded, not looking up from the pile of notes on his desk. ‘I shall see you this evening, Miss Paige.’ He glanced up then. ‘This is not a job where one can watch the clock too closely.’

  She got up and went to the door, where she said in a quiet little voice, ‘I expect you miss Miss Brimble. We must hope for the best, mustn’t we?’

  She closed the door quietly behind her and the doctor stared at it, surprise on his handsome face. But presently he allowed himself to smile. Only fleetingly, though. Miss Paige must conform to his ways or find another job.

  Matilda went home, donned an apron and began to load the washing machine. Her father was in the study; her mother was getting coffee in the kitchen.

  ‘Well, how did you get on?’ she asked. ‘I don’t suppose it was hard work. Is he nice? Your father has to see him within the next few days. Such a nuisance that he has to see the doctor so often; I should have thought that once he had got over his heart attack he would have been cured.’

  ‘Well, he is cured, Mother, but it’s possible to have another attack unless a doctor keeps an eye on him. He’s feeling fine, though, isn’t he? This is the ideal life for him…’

  Mrs Paige said fiercely, ‘Oh, it’s perfect for him but what about me? There’s nothing to do here in this poky little village…’

  ‘It’s not poky. It’s really quite large and Mrs Simpkins was telling me that there’s always something going on. There’s amateur theatricals in the winter, and bridge parties, and tennis in the summer and cricket. Once you get to know the people living here—’

  ‘And how do I do that? Knock on people’s doors? We’ve been here almost two weeks.’

  ‘If you went to the village more often…’ began Matilda. ‘Everyone goes to the village shop…’

  ‘Everyone? Who’s everyone? No one I can make a friend of. When I think of the pleasant life we had at the vicarage—my friends, the interesting people who came to see your father…’

  ‘I’m sure there are interesting people here, too,’ said Matilda. ‘Are you going to have coffee with Father? I had some at the surgery. Shall I make a macaroni cheese for lunch?’

  Her mother shrugged. ‘What is he like? Dr Lovell? A typical country GP, I suppose.’

  Matilda didn’t answer that; she didn’t think that Dr Lovell was typical of anyone, but then, of course, she was in love with him.

  She took care to be at the surgery well before five o’clock. She had the patients’ notes ready on his desk and was sitting at her own desk in the waiting room when the first patient arrived. The doctor had been right; there was a steady stream of patients—several nasty coughs, a clutch of peevish children and two young men with bandaged hands. She had seen from the notes that most of them had come from outlying farms, and since they all appeared to know each other the room was full of cheerful voices interspersed with coughing fits and whining small voices.

  There was no sign of the doctor and it was already well after five o’clock. Matilda left her desk to hold a fractious toddler while its mother took an older child to the loo. She was still holding it when the surgery door opened and the doctor invited his first patient, an old man with a cough, to come into the surgery.

  He looked at Matilda with raised eyebrows but made no comment and by the time he called for his second patient she was back at her desk, busy with the appointments book, very aware that she was being looked over by everyone there. After all, she was a newcomer to the village, and although Mrs Simpkins had given her opinion that Matilda was a nice young lady—a bit quiet, like, but polite—the village had no intention of making up its mind in a hurry.

  Parson’s daughter, they told each other—well, Miss Brimble had been that, too, but twice this one’s age. They bade her a lot of cheerful good evenings as they went home and over their suppers gave their varied opinions: a nice enough young lady, not much to look at but with a ready smile.

  As for the doctor, dining at the Reverend Mr Milton’s table that evening, he professed himself satisfied with his new receptionist. He had no more to say about her than that, though.

  The week progressed. Tuesday was an evening surgery only for he held the post of anaesthetist at Taunton Hospital and spent the day there. On Wednesday the surgery bulged with victims of the first serious chills of winter and on Thursday there was no surgery in the evening. Matilda enjoyed her work although she wished it could have been conducted in a clearer atmosphere than the surgery, redolent of damp coats and the earthy smells clinging to farm workers who came in straight from their work. But she had found her sensible feet by now and she was happy despite the doctor’s chilly politeness towards her. At least she saw him each day and sooner or later he would stop comparing her with Miss Brimble and decide that she was quite nice, really…

  And, Matilda being Matilda, she already had a few plans. A potted plant for the waiting room, a small vase of flowers for the doctor’s desk, a chamber pot for the small children—she wondered why Miss Brimble hadn’t thought of that—and some container where people could put their dripping umbrellas. There were still a lot of odds and ends her mother had consigned to the garden shed; there might be something suitable there…

  After the first morning she had politely refused coffee after the morning surgery, standing by his desk, listening to whatever it was he needed to tell her and then bidding him a cheerful good morning, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  There was no point in sitting there drinking coffee when he was so obviously unaware of her. She would then tidy the waiting room, lock up and go home.

  There was an envelope on her desk on Friday morning. She had asked at her interview if she could be paid each week and in cash, and he had agreed without comment. She put it in her handbag and bade the first patient good morning. Her father had taught her that money was no easy path to happiness but she couldn’t help feeling rich…

  There was a small branch of her father’s bank in the village, open on three days a week for a few hours. Matilda paid most of the money into his account, bought sausages from Mrs Simpkins and went home, treading on air.

  There was a car parked outside the gate when she reached it: an elderly Rover, immaculately kept. It belonged to the Reverend Mr Milton and she was pleased to see it for it meant that that gentleman had come to visit h
er parents. He had called briefly a day or so after they had moved in but the place had been in chaos and he hadn’t stayed.

  He was in the living room and his wife was with him. Mrs Milton was a small, placid lady with a kind face, and according to Mrs Simpkins was very well liked in the village.

  Matilda shook hands and, bidden by her mother, went to fetch more coffee, sorry that she hadn’t brought some biscuits with her. She handed around second cups and sat down to answer Mrs Milton’s gentle questions.

  She liked her job with Dr Lovell? Such a dear, good man but very overworked; so fortunate that he had found Matilda to replace Miss Brimble. And did Matilda play tennis? In the summer there was a flourishing club—and amateur theatricals in the winter. ‘You must meet some of the younger ones here,’ said Mrs Milton.

  Mrs Paige interrupted her in the nicest possible way. ‘Matilda isn’t a very sociable girl,’ she said. ‘Quite a homebird in fact, which is so fortunate for I’m not very strong and all the worry of my husband’s illness has upset my nerves.’

  Mrs Milton said that she was sorry to hear it. ‘I was hoping you would enjoy meeting a few people here and perhaps join me on one or two of our committees. We do a good deal for charity in a quiet way. And the Mother’s Union flourishes. Lady Truscott is our president and we meet each month at her house. The Manor, you know…’

  ‘I shall be delighted to do that and give what help I can.’ Mrs Paige had become quite animated. ‘And anything else that I can do in my small way.’ She gave a rueful little laugh. ‘This is all so strange. And I do miss the house—and the social life attached to the church. And, of course, the ease with which one could obtain things. It seems I must go all the way to Taunton to a hairdresser.’

  ‘There’s Miss Wright in the village; she is really not at all bad. I must confess that I go to Tessa’s in Taunton. If you would like it I’ll give you her phone number and if you mention my name I’m sure she will fit you in.’

  ‘That’s most kind. It would have to be on the day the bus goes to Taunton; I’m told that there is one.’

  ‘You don’t drive?’

  ‘No, unfortunately not, and, of course, Jeffrey isn’t allowed to, so we sold the car.’

  Mrs Milton turned to Matilda. ‘You don’t drive, my dear?’

  Matilda just had time to say yes, before her mother said quickly, ‘There seemed no point in keeping the car just for Matilda’s use. She enjoys walking and there is a bicycle she can use.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Mrs Milton, ‘I’ll be glad to offer you a lift the next time I go to Taunton. Matilda, too…’

  ‘One of us has to stay home just in case Jeffrey isn’t well, but I’d be glad of a lift; it’s most kind of you to offer. Perhaps I could fit it in with the hairdresser and have time for a quick shop. I’m sure the shop in the village is excellent but there are several things I need which I’m sure aren’t stocked there.’

  ‘We will arrange something soon and I’ll let you know about joining our committee.’ Mrs Milton got to her feet. ‘I’m glad you have come here to live and I’m sure you will be happy once you have settled in.’

  She caught her husband’s eye and he rose reluctantly from the earnest talk he was enjoying with Mr Paige. Goodbyes were said and Matilda saw them out of the gate and into their car, waving them away with a friendly hand.

  ‘A very nice girl,’ said Mrs Milton, ‘but I don’t imagine she has much of a life. Her mother…’

  ‘Now, my dear, don’t be too hasty in your judgement, although I do see what you mean. We must endeavour to find Matilda some friends.’

  ‘I wonder how she gets on with Henry?’

  ‘Presumably well enough; I don’t imagine he’s a hard taskmaster. Once they have got used to each other I’m sure she will prove every bit as efficient as Miss Brimble.’

  Which wasn’t what Mrs Milton had meant at all, although she didn’t say so.

  Mrs Paige followed Matilda into the kitchen. ‘Did you get paid?’

  Matilda stacked cups and saucers by the sink. ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘Good. If Mrs Milton phones I can go to Taunton. I need one or two things as well as having my hair done. If you’d let me have twenty-five pounds? You must see that if I’m to meet all these women I must look my best, and you’ll have the rest of your money…’

  ‘I’ve paid it into Father’s account at the bank.’

  ‘Matilda—are you out of your mind? His pension will be paid in in a week or so and we can open an account at the shop.’

  ‘There’s a gas bill overdue and the plumber to be paid…’

  Mrs Paige said tearfully, ‘I can’t believe that my own daughter could be so mean.’ She started to cry. ‘I hate it here; can’t you understand that? This poky little house and no shops and nothing to do all day. There was always something at the vicarage—people calling, wanting advice or help; things happening.’ She added, ‘Of course you don’t care; I don’t suppose you miss your friends and it isn’t as if there were any men keen on you. It’s just as well, for I doubt if you’ll meet anyone here who’ll want to marry you.’

  Matilda said quietly, ‘No, I don’t suppose I will. I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Mother, but perhaps you will meet some people you will like when you see Mrs Milton again.’

  She took some notes out of her handbag. ‘Here is twenty-five pounds.’ She laid the money on the table. ‘I’ll get lunch, shall I?’

  Her mother said something but she didn’t hear it, for she was fighting a strong wish to run out of the house, go somewhere where she wasn’t reminded that she was dull and plain and mean. Life would have been so different if she had been pretty…

  She gave herself a shake. Self-pity was a waste of time; and life wasn’t all that bad. She had a job, she liked the village and the people she had met were friendly, and there was Dr Lovell. If they hadn’t come here to live she would never have met him. The fact that he didn’t like her overmuch made no difference to the fact that she was in love with him. That coloured her dull days and perhaps in time, if she could be more like Miss Brimble, he would like her after all. She didn’t expect more than that; her mother had made it plain that there was nothing about her to attract a man such as he.

  She got the lunch, listened to her father’s cheerful comments about their visitors and her mother’s plans to go to Taunton and then, with Rastus for company, Matilda went into the garden. It had once been very pretty but was now woefully overgrown. She began raking the leaves which covered the patch of grass in front of the house.

  It was chilly and there was a fresh wind, so that her hair blew free from its tidy pleat, and she had tied a sack over her skirt. The doctor, driving past, thought she looked very untidy, obviously not bothering about her appearance. He dismissed her from his mind and was vaguely irritated to find himself remembering all that pale brown hair, tossed about by the wind.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THERE was nothing about Matilda’s appearance on Monday morning to remind him of her scruffy appearance in the garden. The picture of neatness, she dealt with the patients with good-humoured patience and real pleasure, for she felt that she had been accepted by the village, included in their gossip as they waited their turn. It was to be hoped, she reflected, that Dr Lovell would accept her, too…

  It was a chilly, drizzly morning and she was glad that she had lugged the chimney pot she had found in the garden shed down to the doctor’s house and installed it in the waiting room. It wasn’t ideal but at least it was somewhere to put the umbrellas. She was sure that the doctor hadn’t noticed it; hopefully he wouldn’t notice if she brought some of the neglected chrysanthemums from the back garden and put them on the table in the waiting room—and on his desk; they might cheer him up…!

  The surgery over, she tidied up, received a few instructions about the evening surgery, refused his offer of coffee and went down the street to the shop. Mrs Simpkins sold everything, or such was her proud boast and sure enough from the depths of her shop
she produced a small plastic pot.

  ‘That’s what I call sensible,’ she declared. ‘Miss Brimble never thought of it. Well, a maiden lady such as she were wouldn’t ’ave, would she? A real blessing it’ll be for all the mums with little ’uns.’

  She peered across the counter through the shop window. ‘Doctor’s just gone past so you can pop across with it.’

  Which Matilda did.

  At home she found her mother in the best of good spirits. Mrs Milton would be going to Taunton on Wednesday and had offered her a lift. ‘You only work in the morning,’ she reminded Matilda, ‘so you can be here with your father. I don’t know how long I shall be gone; perhaps Mrs Milton will ask me to tea. Will you make some coffee? Your father has a headache; a cup might make him feel better. I must iron a few things—perhaps you would get a fire going in the sitting room? It’s such a miserable day.’

  After lunch Matilda, in an old mac and headscarf, went into the garden. The back garden was quite large and so overgrown it was hard to see what it was once like. But almost hidden against the end fence were the chrysanthemums, deep pink and a bit bedraggled. She picked the best of them, filled a vase for the living room and put the rest in a plastic bag to take with her to the surgery that evening. And while she was about it she rooted round in the garden shed and found two vases. No longer neglected, the chrysanthemums perked up, in one vase on the waiting-room table, and the other on the windowsill in the surgery. Several patients remarked upon them but if the doctor noticed he didn’t choose to say anything…

  In fact, he had seen them the moment he entered the surgery, given them a quick glance and turned his attention to his first patient. He hoped that Matilda wasn’t going to strew cushions around the place or nurture pot plants on the windowsills. Perhaps he had better nip any such ideas in the bud…

  But he had no chance to do so that evening; a farm worker on one of the outlying farms had fallen off a ladder and he was needed there. He left with a brisk goodnight, leaving Matilda to pack up and lock the doors. And, of course, the next day there was no surgery until the evening.