A Kind of Magic Page 5

  ‘I’ll let you have any news when I see your grandmother in the morning,’ he promised. ‘Now go to bed as quickly as you can.’

  He put a finger under her chin and kissed her gently.

  ‘Rather an eventful day,’ he added, and pushed her gently through the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT WOULD be prudent to get out of her still damp clothes before she went to see if her grandmother was still awake, Rosie decided. She was greeted with sympathy by the head waiter, who offered to get her something to eat.

  ‘Oh, that really would be kind, I’m famished.’ Her eyes strayed to the clock. ‘Heavens, it’s after ten o’clock! A sandwich would do, and a pot of tea please, and could it possibly be brought to my room? I’m so wet still, and I must get out of my things.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Miss Macdonald.’ He was a kindly man, and a little sorry for her, tied to the old lady for hours and hours on end.

  In her room she got into her dressing-gown, and peeped into her grandmother’s room. The old lady was sitting up in bed reading, but she put the book down when she saw Rosie.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded peevishly, ‘You ungrateful girl, jaunting off in that fashion, leaving me alone among strangers.’

  Rosie, longing for a hot bath and a large pot of tea, pulled her dressing-gown more closely around her.

  ‘I went for a walk, Granny,’ she began patiently. ‘It rained—very hard—Dr Cameron came by in his Land Rover and gave me a lift, only he couldn’t stop because he was going to an emergency.’

  Her grandmother uttered a sound which could have been ‘pish’ or ‘tush’, indicative of her disbelief.

  ‘Rubbish, of course he could have stopped here. I have never heard such nonsense! I suppose you wanted to spend the afternoon with him?’

  Rosie giggled, sneezed, and then blew her pretty nose. ‘Granny, we don’t like each other. He’s the last person I would want to spend an afternoon with, and I’m sure he feels the same. Only one wouldn’t leave one’s worst enemy to walk miles in such a downpour.’

  Her grandmother said, ‘Huh! So where was this dire emergency?’

  Rosie sneezed again. It had to be said. ‘Inverard, Granny. Uncle Donald.’

  Mrs Macdonald said quickly, ‘Well, I don’t want to hear about it. Now you’re here you can pour me some of that lemonade and do my pillows. I suppose I’d better have one of those pills Dr Cameron sent. You had better go to bed yourself, Rosie, and let us have no more traipsing around. I must say I expected more consideration from you.’

  Rosie considered answering this, and decided not to. She fetched the pill and the lemonade, arranged the pillows just so, switched off the lights except for the small bedside lamp, kissed her grandmother goodnight, and went thankfully back to her room. Someone had put a tray there—a plate of toasted sandwiches, cheese and biscuits, a bowl of yoghurt and a large pot of tea. She ran the bath, bore the tray into the bathroom, set it on a stool by the bath, and lay in its comforting heat while she demolished everything on the tray. There was a small glass of brandy lurking behind the teapot; she prudently saved it until she was curled up in bed before she tossed it off. She wasn’t in the habit of drinking brandy; she spluttered and choked, aware of its comforting warmth before she fell instantly asleep.

  Mrs Macdonald was still tetchy in the morning, and since she had nothing more to say about Rosie’s absence the previous day Rosie said nothing as well. After breakfast she helped her grandmother into a chair and settled the injured limb on a stool, and awaited the arrival of Dr Cameron. She felt heavy-eyed and out of sorts, and from time to time, to her grandmother’s annoyance, she sneezed.

  The doctor arrived at his usual hour, immaculate in his elderly tweeds, looking in the very best of health. Rosie wished him a rather cold, terse good-morning, and sneezed again.

  ‘A little under the weather?’ he wanted to know kindly. ‘I’ll let you have something to check that cold—nasty things, colds.’

  He had spoken blandly, but he was amused, too. She frowned heavily at him. ‘Thank you, it’s nothing—just a summer cold. I don’t need anything for it.’

  ‘You will take whatever Dr Cameron gives you, Rosie,’ said her grandmother. ‘You may be a great, healthy girl, but if I were to become infected it might be a serious matter.’

  Rosie didn’t reply; to be described as a great, healthy girl did nothing for her ego. She avoided the doctor’s eye, and with a slightly heightened colour turned back the light shawl which shrouded the injured ankle.

  ‘Very nice,’ he pronounced presently. ‘Tomorrow you shall try walking with the crutches I shall bring with me. I think that you might make arrangements to go home within the next few days. Do you have a car, Mrs Macdonald?’

  ‘Certainly not. If necessary I hire a car and a chauffeur. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I shall be going to Edinburgh on Saturday; I can offer you and Rosie a lift.’ He noticed Rosie’s questioning look. ‘Not in the Land Rover.’

  Mrs Macdonald wasn’t exactly mean, but she didn’t believe in spending money on something which could be obtained without it. She accepted with alacrity. ‘You have a practice in Edinburgh?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Yes. You have made a splendid recovery, Mrs Macdonald. I will write a note to your doctor and give him details.’

  ‘Oh, but I wish you to attend me until my ankle is quite healed.’

  ‘I can hardly do that, Mrs Macdonald. I’m sure that you will be quite satisfied with your doctor’s treatment if any is needed.’

  ‘In that case I shall expect you to visit me—not professionally.’

  ‘I shall be delighted to do so…’

  He was interrupted by one of Rosie’s sneezes, and he turned round to look at her.

  ‘I think I must deal with that before it gets too severe.’ He opened his bag and shook out some tablets. ‘Take one now and then four-hourly. I’ll bring enough for the full treatment when I come tomorrow.’

  He had bidden them goodbye and was almost at the door when Mrs Macdonald asked, ‘Donald Macdonald—is he dead?’

  ‘No; there is very little to be done, however. He has a history of heart trouble. I’m sorry, Mrs Macdonald.’

  ‘I haven’t set eyes on him for years. He didn’t deal fairly with Rosie’s father…’ Her voice held no feeling.

  Rosie remembered the lonely figure on the sofa.

  ‘Granny, please…’ She bustled the doctor through the door and shut it firmly on her grandmother.

  ‘She doesn’t mean it,’ she told him. ‘She’s old.’

  He stood looking down at her. ‘Yes. Do your parents wish to be informed?’

  ‘Oh, yes. They haven’t seen Uncle Donald for a long time—not since we left Inverard. They have never spoken of him, though they have never borne him a grudge. I think that they might like to know how he is. Granny will be furious; you see, she can’t forgive him, not even now…’

  ‘Why don’t you phone now?’

  He swept her willy-nilly down the stairs, and picked up the telephone on the reception desk.

  ‘An urgent call,’ he said blandly, and stood beside her while she dialled.

  Her mother answered. ‘Darling,’ she began before Rosie could get a word in edgeways, ‘you have to be back at your job on Monday. Will you be able to get here by then?’

  Rosie drew a deep breath and explained.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said her mother when Rosie paused. ‘The poor
man—not that I like him, but one has to be sorry… What kind of man is this Dr Cameron?’

  ‘Just a doctor, Mother,’ said Rosie evasively, aware that he was standing beside her, listening to every word. ‘Will you tell Father? And I’ll let you know how Uncle Donald is. And will you let them know at the office, please?’ She paused to think. ‘Once Granny is back home I should be able to come home straight away.’

  ‘That will be Sunday or Monday?’

  ‘Yes, I hope so. I’ll ring you again tomorrow.’

  She put down the receiver as several people came in through the hotel entrance; the Royal Scotsman was in the station, and the train manager and the two stewards, as well as the guide, had come to visit her grandmother.

  ‘I’ll leave you,’ said Dr Cameron, and was gone before she could say goodbye.

  It was nice to see their cheerful faces and hear their friendly voices. They had flowers and fruit with them, and Rosie took them upstairs to her grandmother before going in search of someone to bring coffee to her room. They couldn’t stay long; Jamie had to go almost at once, as the coach was taking the passengers on the scheduled trip, and the other three had to go again after half an hour, since the train was due to leave.

  Rosie was sorry to see them go; she had liked them all, and they had been more than kind and thoughtful.

  ‘I’ll come again,’ she promised, ‘but I don’t know when.’

  They hugged her in turn, bade Mrs Macdonald a more dignified farewell, and hurried back to the train. A brief visit, but it supplied a topic of conversation for the rest of the morning. Her grandmother, reflected Rosie, hadn’t mentioned Uncle Donald once.

  Her leisure that afternoon was brief; Mrs Macdonald, now that she had her crutches, intended to waste no time in becoming an expert in their use, which meant that Rosie had to be there to give help when needed, and when her grandmother was tired she insisted that Rosie should start to repack their cases.

  ‘There’s still a whole day, Granny,’ Rosie pointed out.

  ‘You have nothing better to do,’ the old lady remarked. ‘You may just as well occupy yourself usefully as moon around out of doors.’

  Dr Cameron was late the next morning. He gave no reason for it, though, merely took another look at the ankle, watched his patient on her crutches, pronounced her fit to go home to the care of her own doctor, and reminded them that he would call for them about ten o’clock on the day after tomorrow.

  He enquired after Rosie’s cold, and went again after the briefest of visits. He hadn’t mentioned Uncle Donald; Rosie, with a muttered excuse to her grandmother, ran down the stairs after him, and caught him up as he was going through the hotel entrance.

  ‘Uncle Donald. Is he any better?’

  He paused on the step. ‘He is conscious—in Intensive Care—but I think it unlikely that he will recover.’ He stared down at her thoughtfully. ‘Do you wish to see him?’

  ‘There isn’t anyone else…’

  ‘No. I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Granny…’ she began.

  ‘Leave her to me, just be ready.’

  After the stormy weather the day was fine and Rosie longed to be out of doors, but there was little chance of that; she repacked, and read the Daily Telegraph from end to end as usual, perambulated to and fro with her grandmother on her crutches and, while the old lady slept, did her nails and washed her hair, all the while wondering if she was doing the wise thing in visiting the hospital to see her uncle. Dr Cameron had said that he wasn’t likely to recover, and he had no family now.

  Dr Cameron came earlier than usual; he sat down as though he had the whole morning in which to do nothing, listening to her grandmother giving forceful opinions about this, that and the other, and only when the old lady had talked herself into a good mood did he observe casually that it might be a good idea if Rosie were to get some fresh air. ‘I’ll take her with me.’

  He smiled charmingly at her, and turned to Rosie.

  ‘Ready? It’s rather a splendid morning. I’m going over to the youth hostel; you can take a stroll while I’m there—it will help to shake off that cold.’

  He swept Rosie away before her grandmother could make any objection, urged her into the Land Rover, and drove away.

  ‘Are you really going to the youth hostel?’

  ‘Of course, I have to deliver some tablets on Dr Finlay’s behalf.’

  Her nod was friendly and he drove in silence for quite a time, but presently said, ‘I shall be all of five minutes there. We will go on to Ballachullish and down to Oban; it’s the long way round, but quicker than turning back.’

  He gave her a faintly smiling glance. ‘Not that I am in a hurry.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure you can spare the time.’ She settled back to enjoy the drive.

  They stopped just outside Oban at a small hotel, and had coffee before driving on to the town and the hospital. Donald Macdonald was still in Intensive Care, but since Dr Cameron seemed to be known by everyone they encountered as they went through the hospital entrance, and Dr Douglas came to meet them, there was no objection to Rosie’s visiting him.

  ‘He’s not too good,’ said Dr Douglas, leading the way, ‘but he’s conscious. He’ll be glad to see you.’

  Rosie wasn’t sure about that. She greeted her uncle quietly and with caution; he might take umbrage at the sight of her, and that would do him no good at all. She remembered his sudden surges of temper. But here, she saw at once, was a man who had no temper left in him; he was too ill.

  She sat down by his bed, taking care to avoid the various tubes and portable machines encircling it.

  He managed a smile. ‘Coals of fire, Rosie?’

  ‘No, Uncle. But Father and Mother will want to know how you are getting on when I go home. I phoned them—they hope you will feel better soon.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ he whispered.

  ‘True, all the same. I’m going home on Monday, Father will phone the hospital each day.’ She caught Dr Douglas’s glance and got up.

  ‘I mustn’t make you tired.’ She squeezed the hand she had been holding. ‘Get better soon.’

  Dr Cameron was standing quietly behind her; she was surprised to see that he had taken off his car coat, and had a stethoscope swinging from one hand. There was a ward sister too, as well as Dr Douglas.

  ‘I shan’t be long,’ said Dr Cameron. ‘Wait in Sister’s office, will you?’

  He opened the door for her, polite and faintly impatient for her to be gone.

  Later, once more in the Land Rover, she said, ‘Everyone knew you there—have you a practice in Oban?’

  ‘No. I go to the hospital occasionally.’

  He had answered her coolly, but she persisted. ‘The landlord at the hotel said that you were staying at Dr Finlay’s…’

  ‘He was quite right. There is some splendid fishing hereabouts. You must know that.’

  Which didn’t answer her question, and made it difficult to pursue the subject. She said with something of a snap, ‘Uncle Donald is in good hands—I like Dr Douglas.’

  ‘He would be glad to know that; he’s taken a fancy to you—you could do worse, he’s got a good practice and should go far…’

  Rosie’s bosom swelled with indignation. ‘Well, really, whatever will you say next?’ She paused to take breath and he added carelessly,

  ‘He’s not married?’

  She ground splendid teeth. ‘You’re awful—I�
��ve never met a man like you…’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that.’

  ‘Are you married?’ She hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts out loud, but once said there was no taking it back.

  ‘Er—no. But I’m hopeful of being so in the not too distant future.’

  For some reason his answer depressed her. Vaguely she supposed that she was sorry for the girl. Before they came to open warfare she supposed that she should change the conversation.

  ‘What a pleasant morning,’ she observed in a polite voice which would have frozen a kettle of boiling water.

  The doctor gave a bellow of laughter. ‘Are you burying the hatchet or offering an olive branch? I’ll settle for either, at least let us part on speaking terms.’

  They were almost at the hotel, and he went on casually, ‘I’ll be here at ten o’clock tomorrow if that suits you and Mrs Macdonald?’

  ‘Oh, yes. We can be ready by then. You’re quite sure it’s convenient? We’re not taking up your time?’

  ‘Not in the least. I did tell you that I have to be in Edinburgh tomorrow.’

  He stopped the car and got out, and went to open her door.

  ‘Thank you for taking me,’ she said frostily, ‘I’m very grateful.’

  He nodded, and stood watching her until she had gone inside and then got back into the Land Rover and drove himself away.

  Rosie, sneaking a quick backward look at him from inside the door, could see that he was smiling. It puzzled her, for she had not said anything to amuse him.

  Back with her grandmother she assured that lady that she had had a very pleasant drive.

  ‘I can see that; you have quite a good colour—there is nothing like exercise in the fresh air,’ remarked Mrs Macdonald, who seldom ventured into the outdoors.

  Rosie forebore from telling her that the colour was the result of her vexatious conversation with Dr Cameron, and offered to accompany her down the corridor outside the bedroom on her daily exercise with her crutches.