A Kind of Magic Page 6

  ‘We are to be ready by ten o’clock in the morning,’ she reminded her grandmother. ‘I’ll order your breakfast a little earlier, shall I? So that you don’t have to hurry.’

  ‘I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think so—doctors usually have a busy day, don’t they?’

  They were ready by ten o’clock; Rosie had prudently allowed time for paying the bill, saying their goodbyes, and making sure that their luggage was in the foyer so that when Dr Cameron arrived they were waiting for him.

  His good-morning was brisk; obviously he had no time to stand about passing the time of day. He helped Mrs Macdonald down the steps, and Rosie and the porter with their cases followed.

  The car parked at the bottom of the steps wasn’t what she had expected—a dark blue Rolls-Royce.

  Her grandmother had stopped at the car doors.

  ‘How very kind,’ she observed in her commanding voice, ‘to consider my comfort and hire a car in which I can travel without being jarred and jolted.’

  The doctor was stowing the crutches in the boot, and didn’t look up. ‘I think you will be comfortable enough. I’ll help you into the back seat; there is a cushion for your foot.’ He glanced up. ‘Rosie, get in front, will you?’

  A good many of the hotel staff had come out to see them off. Mrs Macdonald waved in a regal fashion, pronounced herself as comfortable as it was possible to be, and expressed the hope that the journey wouldn’t take too long.

  ‘Two hours, perhaps a little more. We will go down on the A82, by-pass Glasgow, and join the motorway to Edinburgh.’

  He took the A819, going south, drove round the head of Loch Fyne, and joined the A82 running alongside Loch Lomond. He drove fast, and beyond an enquiry as to his passengers’ comfort had little to say.

  The journey was half done before Rosie plucked up the courage to say, ‘We simply cannot allow you to bear the expense of hiring this car. I’m afraid we didn’t think about it, but if you will let us know…’

  ‘I’m on good terms with the owner; there’s no question of paying.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s very good of your friend to let us travel in it.’ She glanced at his rather stern profile. ‘You’re not—that is, it’s really so?’

  He turned to look at her down his handsome nose. ‘I am not in the habit of having my word questioned.’

  ‘No, no. I’m sure you’re not,’ said Rosie soothingly. ‘I just wondered. I’m sorry if I ruffled you.’

  ‘Neither do I ruffle easily.’

  They went almost the length of Loch Lomond before he spoke again.

  ‘You are glad to be going home?’

  In her mind’s eye she saw the remote majesty of the Highlands, the towering black mountains, the waterfalls, the bracken, the heather and the breathtaking beauty of it all.

  ‘I shall be glad to see my mother and father,’ she told him.

  That was true, only she was leaving her thoughts and her heart at Inverard. She wondered what would happen to the house if her uncle were to die. There were remote cousins on his side of the family, but they had lived for years in Canada, and would hardly wish to uproot themselves.

  ‘You will fly back?’ he asked idly.

  ‘Perhaps, in a day or two. I believe Granny has made some arrangements with her own doctor—I don’t know if she has to go to hospital. If so, I’d better stay until that’s seen to.’

  He made a non-committal reply, and began a casual conversation about the country they were driving through. They joined the motorway shortly, and on the outskirts of Glasgow he turned south to avoid the city’s heart, and picked up the motorway on its eastern outskirts. It was barely forty miles to Edinburgh on the M8, it took that number of minutes to reach the city, and when Rosie offered directions Dr Cameron said, ‘It’s all right, I know my way.’ And very shortly after he drew up before Mrs Macdonald’s door.

  Elspeth had the door open before they were out of the car, with Aunt Carrie peering over her shoulder, getting in each other’s way while the doctor lifted Mrs Macdonald out of the car and carried her up the steps.

  She was received with a good deal of fuss while he returned to the car to fetch the crutches and the luggage. Rosie had hung back a little so that Aunt Carrie and Elspeth could make much of her grandmother, but she took the crutches from the doctor so that he could deal with their cases, and ushered him into the house.

  He said pleasantly, ‘Let everyone see how well you walk again, Mrs Macdonald,’ and handed the crutches to her with a smile.

  Mrs Macdonald was at her most gracious. ‘Let me introduce you—my daughter, Caroline, and Elspeth, our housekeeper. This is Dr Cameron who has so kindly driven us back and looked after me so well. Rosie, go with Elspeth and bring coffee to the drawing-room.’

  ‘I must be on my way, Mrs Macdonald. If I might give Rosie one or two last-minute instructions until your doctor calls…?’

  ‘Well, I suppose that you are a busy man. Rosie, go into the dining-room with the doctor. I shall go to the drawing-room; come there when you are ready to go.’

  In the gloomy dining-room Rosie asked, ‘Should I stay longer? I’ve arranged to go home on Tuesday.’

  ‘No need to stay. The sooner your grandmother starts gentle walking the better. Her own doctor will be round to see her, will he not? I think it likely that she will be able to manage with a stick within a very short time.’

  He smiled suddenly. ‘It hasn’t been quite the holiday you expected, has it?’

  ‘Well, no, but it was lovely to see Inverard again.’ She sighed without knowing she did so. ‘Thank you for bringing us back, it was very kind. Are you sure you won’t have coffee before you go?’

  ‘I’ve things to do, I’m afraid.’ He held out a large hand and engulfed hers. ‘It is a great pity that we need to part when we are beginning to be friends.’

  ‘Oh, are we?’ She went rather pink. ‘Well, yes, perhaps… You will want to say goodbye to Granny…’

  Mrs Macdonald was sitting in an upright chair, intent on telling her daughter every detail of her mishap. ‘You are going, Doctor? I shall tell Dr MacLeod how very helpful you have been. You are sure that I shall be all right on the stairs? I managed very well at the motel for the last day or so, but I am nervous…’

  ‘Don’t be, Mrs Macdonald, you are perfectly safe, only don’t put your weight on that foot until your doctor says you may.’

  He shook hands with her and with Carrie, said goodbye, and Rosie went into the hall to see him out. Elspeth was already there, waiting to see him out of the door, so she said lamely, ‘Well, goodbye, Doctor,’ and watched him go, surprised at the regret she felt at the sight of his vast back disappearing into the street.

  Dr MacLeod came to see them later that afternoon, pronounced himself very satisfied with the ankle, and said that he had made arrangements for Mrs Macdonald to go the Royal Infirmary on Monday morning.

  ‘For an X-ray,’ he assured her. ‘Nothing to be alarmed about. If it is satisfactory you won’t need those crutches, just a stout stick. The appointment is for ten o’clock. I shall see you there.’

  Mrs Macdonald was enjoying being the centre of attention. She was accustomed to being the most important person in the house, anyway; now she basked in the sympathetic attention she was getting. She recounted every detail of each day since they had set out on the train together, with her opinion about the hotel, the train, its staff, the weather and the food.
It took the rest of the day, and she never once mentioned Uncle Donald. Rosie wondered if she should tell Aunt Carrie, and decided not to—for the moment, at any rate.

  Only when their combined efforts had got her grandmother up the stairs and into bed, and she and Aunt Carrie were having a cup of tea before going to their own beds did she ask, ‘Did you have a good time, Aunt Carrie? Go out at all?’

  Her companion blushed. ‘Oh, Rosie, dear, I did… You can’t imagine… He’s very anxious that we should…I’m too old…’

  ‘I don’t suppose that being in love has anything to do with age,’ observed Rosie. ‘Of course he wants to marry you; you’re still pretty, you know, and you’d make a splendid wife, just the thing for a solicitor. You’ve spent years looking after Granny, who really doesn’t need looking after, especially since there’s Elspeth. Is he on the phone?’

  Aunt Carrie nodded.

  ‘Good. Ring him up this evening—it’s only half-past nine, and tell him you’ll marry him, and ask him to come here, and you can tackle Granny together.’ She added carefully, ‘I don’t want to pry, but has he enough money to marry?’

  ‘He’s senior partner in an old firm of solicitors; he’s quite comfortably off, and he has a lovely house, not big, you know, just right.’ Aunt Carrie, having uttered a long sentence without pause, let out a huge sigh.

  ‘Good,’ said Rosie, intent on her matchmaking. ‘Will you promise to do that? Do it while I’m here if you like.’

  ‘Your grandmother will be angry.’ She caught Rosie’s eye. ‘Very well, dear. I’ll phone him and ask him to come tomorrow—when?’

  ‘Tea-time. Granny will have had a rest.’ She got up. ‘I’m going to bed, Aunt Carrie; I’ll leave you to phone—now?’

  Sunday was an eventful day. Lying in her bed at the end of it Rosie reviewed its happenings. It had gone smoothly enough until tea-time, when Mr Brodie had arrived. To her relief, Rosie had seen that he was a man of determination. Nothing much to look at, perhaps, but very suitable for Aunt Carrie, and it was obvious that he loved that lady dearly. Over tea and Elspeth’s shortbread she had been the unwilling but fascinated witness of his level-headed battle with her grandmother. Mrs Macdonald, taken unawares, and then subjected to the solicitor’s dry-as-dust arguments, found herself outflanked, the ground taken from under her feet and not a leg to stand on. Finally she had conceded that there was no reason why Aunt Carrie shouldn’t marry if she wished. Even her caustic ‘ridiculous at her age’ had conjured up no more than a slight lift of the eyebrows from Aunt Carrie’s suitor. He was made of stern stuff, Rosie reflected. She closed her eyes well content with the day’s happenings.

  It was fortunate that, in the bustle of getting off to the hospital in the morning, her grandmother had little time to grumble about her daughter. Rosie had prudently suggested that her aunt should keep out of sight until they had left, and her grandmother, full of her own affairs, hardly noticed that she wasn’t there. Getting the old lady into the taxi took time, and she complained bitterly as it sped through the city, disregarding the cobbled streets away from the main roads. The Royal Infirmary was on the other side of Princes Street, beyond the Grassmarket, towering over the narrow streets and ancient houses around it. Rosie helped her grandmother out of the taxi, went in search of a porter and a wheelchair, and with five minutes to spare presented the pair of them at the X-ray department.

  There were any number of people waiting, and she felt uncomfortable as they passed the rows of patients and were ushered at once into the X-ray room. Her grandmother, never particularly mindful of other people’s convenience, had taken it for granted that she should be attended to at once, and when the X-ray had been taken expressed the hope that she wouldn’t be kept waiting for too long. The radiographer, a brisk man, muttered something, and Rosie wheeled her grandmother away to the waiting-room before the two of them could cross swords.

  It was fifteen minutes before a student nurse came to fetch them, wheeling the old lady into a small room, and hurrying away again.

  ‘Why am I brought here?’ demanded Mrs Macdonald crossly and, when Rosie pointed out in her calm way that it might be to await the result of the X-ray, told her to hold her tongue until she had something sensible to say. So Rosie stood mute, studying the only picture on the wall, a print of Princes Street. She wished she were there now, browsing round Jenners with plenty of money in her purse.

  The door opened and Dr MacLeod came in, followed by Dr Cameron. Rosie felt a surge of pleasure at the sight of him, instantly followed by surprise. Unlike Dr MacLeod he was wearing a long white coat, and looked somehow unapproachable.

  He bade her a cheerful good morning, and greeted Mrs Macdonald with brisk kindliness before assuring her that her ankle was very nearly as good as new.

  ‘A stout stick,’ he told her, ‘and a helping hand from time to time. You have done splendidly.’

  Mrs Macdonald had found her voice. ‘I was under the impression that you were a general practitioner, helping Dr Finlay.’

  Dr Cameron smiled a little, but it was Dr MacLeod who answered her. ‘A small misunderstanding,’ he said smoothly. ‘This is Sir Fergus Cameron, the professor of orthopaedics at this hospital, and senior consultant for the region. You were most fortunate in having his services when you sprained your ankle.’

  Rosie blushed with shame when her grandmother said sharply, ‘On the National Health, I hope?’

  Sir Fergus spoke then, his voice mild. ‘Naturally, Mrs Macdonald—indeed, I would gladly waive all fees for the pleasure of making the acquaintance of yourself and your granddaughter.’ He stood there, a genial giant, smiling pleasantly, and Rosie wished very much that the ground beneath her feet might open up and swallow her.

  He shook hands with her grandmother with the remark that Dr MacLeod would keep her under his eye for a time, and, with nothing but a murmured goodbye to herself, went away.

  Dr MacLeod was inclined to fuss. A porter had to be fetched, a visit arranged, and five minutes was wasted while Mrs Macdonald forecast a gloomy future for herself.

  ‘I am not strong,’ she declared. ‘My health is probably unimportant to those around me, and I do my utmost to make light of hurtful ailments…’

  Her doctor patted her hand. ‘You are remarkably fit for a lady of your years,’ he assured her, ‘and I shall keep my eye upon you.’

  Rosie went ahead to get a taxi, hoping for a glimpse of the professor; there was no sign of him. Not that it mattered, she told herself crossly. He had taken not the slightest notice of her, and why should he?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ROSIE caught an inter-city train to London the next morning after bidding goodbye first to Aunt Carrie, who in a flurry of half-finished sentences begged her to come to the wedding, ‘As soon as it can be arranged. Elspeth knows of a good woman who will come in to help with the house.’

  Rosie had kissed her warmly. ‘I’ll come if I possibly can,’ she had said.

  Elspeth had hugged her and handed her a packet of sandwiches for the homeward journey. ‘It was a joy to have ye, lass. I’ll take good care of your granny.’

  Lastly, her grandmother, sitting in the drawing-room reading the newspaper had bidden her farewell. Rosie had thanked her for her holiday, which was a bit silly, but she knew it would be expected of her, and her grandmother in her turn offered no thanks for Rosie’s care of her. Indeed, she had said dourly, ‘You’ll miss all the gallivanting with Dr Cameron.’

  ‘Did
I gallivant?’ asked Rosie with interest, and had to bite back the words on her tongue when her grandmother said,

  ‘And much good it did you, but I dare say it amused him, pretending to be a country doctor.’

  Rosie, sitting in her second-class seat, eating her sandwiches and washing them down with British Rail coffee, found that Mrs Macdonald’s remark still rankled.

  It was lovely to be home. There was a great deal to talk about, not least her unexpected visit to Inverard.

  ‘You see, I didn’t know—Dr—not Dr, Professor Cameron, only he’s Sir Fergus as well—couldn’t stop as it was an emergency call. It hasn’t changed, and Mrs MacFee is there still, and old Robert…’

  ‘And no one else? Has he no friend living with him? Surely he is not alone?’ asked her father.

  ‘Well, there wasn’t anyone there, and as far as I know no one went to see him at the hospital. I went—I had to.’

  ‘Of course you did,’ said her mother. ‘He’ll recover?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got the phone number. The—the professor said it was impossible to tell at the moment.’

  ‘Was he nice, this professor? Scots? How strange that he didn’t tell your grandmother who he really was.’ Her mother added with a casual air, ‘Elderly, I dare say—I mean, being a professor one would expect him to be.’

  ‘Not even elderly, about thirty-five or six, I should think—he’s a very big man, and tall. Dark, good-looking. Most of the time we didn’t get on together. His own doctor was really rather nice, though—quite young and friendly.’

  ‘I had better telephone the hospital,’ said her father. ‘And you are sure that your grandmother wishes to have nothing to do with him?’

  He came back presently. ‘No change. I spoke to Dr Douglas—he asked after you, Rosie.’

  ‘Oh, did he?’ She felt her mother’s interested eye upon her, and went a little pink. ‘He has been looking after Uncle Donald for the last year or two, I believe; he seemed very nice.’