Matilda's Wedding Read online

  The surgery was crowded in the morning; it was always the same on a Monday. The waiting room filled up, the air redolent of wet coats and a strong whiff of manure from the two farm workers, badly bruised by a slight mishap with a tractor. But it was heartening to find that there were no new flu patients.

  The surgery ended late and the doctor went away immediately. He had wished Matilda good morning in his usual detached manner, left her a couple of letters to answer and made no mention of a bath. She tidied up and got ready to leave, to be stopped by Kitty coming into the waiting room.

  ‘If you don’t mind coming into the kitchen, miss, there’s coffee ready there. And Mrs Inch says could you look in on her before you have your bath. I’ve put out fresh towels for you.’

  The coffee was hot and fragrant and Kitty was a friendly girl. Matilda drank it thankfully with Sam at her feet and Kitty sitting opposite her at the table. And presently she went to see Mrs Inch, who was sitting in a chair by the gas fire in her room.

  ‘I’m better,’ she declared, ‘fit for work, but the doctor won’t hear of it. Says I must take things easy for a day or two. I’m obliged to you, miss; you’ve been that good to me! Going to have a bath now? No one will disturb you so take your time; it’s a sight better here than going over to the pub.’

  Matilda agreed, listened to Mrs Inch’s mild gossip for a few minutes then took herself off to the bathroom again. Sheer luxury, she reflected, lying in a foam-filled bath…

  It was obvious that the worst of the flu epidemic was over; there were no new cases during the next few days and those who had been laid low were back on their feet. Matilda phoned home to say that she would be returning in a few days’ time, and spent happy moments doing sums on any bit of paper handy. She had been paid overtime—the doctor had waved aside her objections to that—and she had had little chance to spend much money. Her mother would expect to have some of it and there were always unexpected or forgotten bills which her father had mislaid. Still, there would be enough over for her to go to Taunton again. A new mac, she decided, looking out of the window at the cold drizzle…

  The waiting room was almost back to normal with its contingent of patients the next morning, for which Matilda felt thankful; she wasn’t feeling as energetic as usual. A bit of a headache and a wish to climb into a warm bed somewhere and sleep. There wasn’t time to think much about it, though; the doctor came punctually and the first of the patients went in. For once she found the surgery hours dragged; it seemed to her that he was being very slow that morning, which as it happened wasn’t the case at all. It was only a short while after ten o’clock when she closed the door on the last patient and the doctor put his head round the surgery door.

  ‘I’ll see you this evening, Miss Paige,’ he said, and nodded in a perfunctory manner and was gone.

  Matilda sat down at the desk and began sorting patients’ notes, but presently she laid her head down and closed her eyes. She really felt rather peculiar—hot and cold and aching. She sat up. This wouldn’t do at all; she would go over to Mrs Trickett’s and lie down for a while. She had a list of things her mother had asked her to bring with her and she would have to go to Mrs Simpkins’ shop later.

  She got to her feet, took a couple of steps and fell in an untidy heap.

  Dr Lovell, back from his morning visits, returned Sam’s enthusiastic greeting and went into the drawing room to open the doors so that they might both go into the garden. It was a chilly day but dry and he stood for a moment, enjoying the quiet and peace of it all. The last few weeks had been tiring. Perhaps Miss Paige would like a few days off; she had worked hard without a single grumble.

  He whistled to Sam and went to have his lunch, paid a brief visit to Mrs Inch and got into his car again. The flu epidemic might be on the wane but his practice was wide-flung and with winter approaching there was always more illness.

  He went to his study when he got back at around four o’clock and then went to the surgery. And the first thing he saw was the light shining under the waiting-room door.

  Matilda had woken up several times, aware that she should get up, call for help, make some kind of a noise, but it was too much trouble; she closed her eyes again and prayed for her headache to go away. She had fallen into another uneasy doze when the doctor opened the door, but she roused at the sound of his voice.

  She said weakly, ‘Watch your language, Doctor,’ and then, ‘I should like to sit down for a while—with a hot-water bottle and a cup of tea.’

  He didn’t waste time on talk but scooped her up and carried her out into the hall and up the staircase and into one of the bedrooms, where he laid her on the bed, took off her shoes and covered her with the quilt.

  She lay looking at him, shivering, and he said gently, ‘It’s all right, Matilda; you’ve got the flu. Kitty will come and help you to bed and I’ll give you something for that head.’

  She stared at him with bright, feverish eyes; she felt terrible but everything would be all right now. She croaked an answer but he had already gone.

  When she opened her eyes again Kitty was there, undressing her and shrouding her in one of Mrs Inch’s nightgowns, and then it was the doctor again, bending over her, listening to her chest and sitting her up against her pillows while Kitty held her and told her to say ninety-nine.

  She dozed then until Kitty came again with a cup of tea and a jug of lemonade. The doctor was there too; it was he who lifted her up again and held the cup to her mouth so that she could drink, and then, with a nod to Kitty, turned her gently and plunged a needle into her behind.

  ‘Ow,’ said Matilda, and two tears crept down her cheeks. He wiped them away and told her to go to sleep in a kind voice, and since staying awake wasn’t too pleasant she closed her eyes.

  They flew open again almost at once. ‘You called me Matilda.’

  ‘So I did,’ said Dr Lovell, and laughed. A gentle, friendly laugh which sent her to sleep at once.

  He stood looking down at her, half hidden in Mrs Inch’s old-fashioned nightie. She was very pale and her hair was all over the pillow in an untidy tangle. Studying her face, he saw the delicately arched eyebrows and the curling eyelashes and felt surprise that he had never noticed them before. But of course he had never really looked at her. He had accepted her as a second Miss Brimble…

  He went to see Mrs Inch then, and that lady tut-tutted and observed severely, ‘Only to be expected, sir; the poor young lady’s been on the go for two weeks or more and never a grumble from her. I shall come down tomorrow and sit in the kitchen. Kitty can manage if I’m there to tell her what’s what and it’s Mrs Murch’s day for the rough cleaning. And who’s to manage the surgery for you?’

  ‘Oh, I can see to myself, Mrs Inch. If you come downstairs I must insist that you stay in the kitchen and do nothing. You think that Kitty can manage?’

  ‘Lor’ bless you, sir, of course she can, and she’ll look after Miss Paige a treat.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Inch. I’m going to phone Mrs Paige; she might have some suggestions of her own.’

  But when presently he suggested to Matilda’s mother that she might like to visit her daughter—stay in his house for a few days and look after her if she wished—he was met with a flurry of excuses.

  ‘But I might get the flu,’ objected Mrs Paige. ‘I am so delicate, Doctor, that the least breath of infection would have severe consequences. Matilda will be on her feet again in no time; she is really very healthy. I know she doesn’t look much…’ When the doctor said nothing, she went on hurriedly, ‘What I mean is that she’s small and doesn’t look strong… Should she go to hospital? I really can’t have her home.’

  ‘No, Mrs Paige.’ His voice was detached, professional. ‘She isn’t well enough to move and in any case I wouldn’t think of doing that. Mrs Inch will look after her and I shall of course treat her with antibiotics and make sure that she is fit for work again.’

  ‘Oh, Doctor, that would be splendid. Give her my love, please, and we
shall be glad to have her home once she is well again.’

  He put down the phone and stood thinking for a moment then dialled another number.

  ‘Mother? I have a small problem; is Aunt Kate still with you? She is? Do you suppose she would care to stay for a few days here with me? It’s like this…’

  He put the phone down presently and went in search of Mrs Inch.

  She listened to what he had to say and nodded with approval. ‘Miss Paige is a clergyman’s daughter and a proper young lady. We don’t want her worrying, do we? When will Miss Lovell be coming?’

  ‘Some time tomorrow afternoon; she will drive over.’

  ‘Well, that’s settled, sir. Miss Paige isn’t one to lie about doing nothing. I dare say she’ll be on her feet and away the moment she’s fit.’

  ‘But not before I say she may,’ said Dr Lovell.

  Later that evening he went to see how Matilda was and found her awake and not well enough to care two pins where she was or why. Which saved a great deal of explaining. He dosed her with an antibiotic, gave her a drink and turned her pillow. She said in a small, hoarse voice, ‘Thank you, I’m very comfortable now,’ and dozed off.

  But last thing that night as he was going to bed he took another look at her and found her hot and restless. Mrs Inch was long a-bed and so was Kitty; he bathed her hot face, gave her a drink, pulled a chair up to the bed and took a hand in his.

  ‘Don’t go,’ said Matilda. ‘I don’t feel very well…’

  ‘I know, but I promise you will feel much better tomorrow. Close your eyes and go to sleep and if you wake in the night just call out. I shall hear.’

  ‘You’re a different you!’ said Matilda, voicing a thought from the chaos inside her poor head and presently falling into a deep sleep.

  She woke early and the doctor was there giving her a pill and a long cool drink, then she slept again. When she woke for the second time it was to find Kitty, murmuring in a comforting voice and proffering tea. And it was Kitty who washed her face and hands and put her into another of Mrs Inch’s nightgowns.

  She was asleep again when the doctor came to see her after the morning surgery but later, when she roused, it was to find Mrs Inch, dressed in a dressing gown but looking almost her normal self, bending over her.

  ‘I’m being a great nuisance,’ said Matilda. She would have said more but her headache was still troublesome. She drank the lemonade she was offered and closed her eyes again. But not to sleep; she hadn’t felt well enough to bother about being where she was, but now the thought that she was in the doctor’s house, making a nuisance of herself, began to bother her. A few tears crawled down her cheeks but she couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away and presently she dozed off.

  When she opened her eyes again the doctor was looming over her, to be replaced by an elderly face with a beaky nose and crowned by white hair.

  ‘I’m Aunt Kate,’ said the owner of the hair, ‘come to stay with my nephew Henry. And you, child, are Matilda?’

  Matilda nodded. ‘But please go away. I’ve had the flu and you mustn’t get it.’

  ‘Bless the child, I never catch anything—ask Henry.’

  The idea of asking the doctor any such thing struck Matilda as amusing. She said in a polite, tired little voice, ‘I hope you will enjoy your stay with the doctor.’ She allowed her thoughts to spin into words. ‘He must be glad to have you; he’s been so busy—he must be very tired and he never complains, you know.’ She rambled on, ‘He’s kind and he makes you feel safe, if you see what I mean, even if he doesn’t like you very much.’

  Aunt Kate’s blue eyes narrowed but all she said was, ‘Yes, you’re so right. Now I’m going away to have my tea and presently someone will bring you tea and some bread and butter. You’re feeling better, child.’

  She spoke with such conviction that Matilda indeed felt better.

  Aunt Kate found the doctor in his study, on the phone. She sat down and listened to the one-sided conversation and when he put the phone down said, ‘Who was that, Henry? You sounded very smooth.’

  ‘Mrs Paige—Matilda’s mother.’

  ‘Indeed—then why isn’t she here with her daughter?’

  ‘She is anxious not to get the flu.’ The doctor sounded bland. ‘She has told me that she has a delicate constitution.’

  ‘Pooh,’ said Aunt Kate. ‘I mustn’t ask any questions, must I, if she’s one of your patients? Has the child a father?’

  ‘Oh, yes, a delightful man, retired after a severe heart attack, has to take life easily. A clergyman.’

  ‘And Matilda?’

  ‘Their only child and I know very little about her, Aunt Kate; she is a quiet girl with a sharp tongue at times. Very efficient and hard-working.’

  ‘And certainly no beauty,’ said Aunt Kate. ‘No boyfriend?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ The doctor frowned. The idea of Matilda having a boyfriend rankled.

  It was two days before Matilda felt better but by no means well. She had taken her pills, swallowed drinks and done her best to eat the tasty small dishes Mrs Inch cooked for her, dimly aware of the doctor’s visits and the frequent visits from Aunt Kate, urging her to drink this or eat that, or go to sleep. And sometimes it was Mrs Inch or Kitty bending over her, washing her, changing her nightie. She should be worrying about something, she thought fretfully, but it was too wearying to do so.

  On the third morning, though, she woke with a clear head, aware that she really was feeling better. She told the doctor so when he came to see her before he went to the surgery and he studied her pale face and agreed that of course she was; another day or two and she would be out of bed, feeling quite her old self. She ate her breakfast with the beginnings of a good appetite, sitting up in bed so that she could see out of the window. For November it was a fine day, with a washed-out blue sky and thin sunshine.

  ‘It’s going to be a lovely day,’ said Matilda when Aunt Kate came to visit her.

  And it was until Kitty went to answer the door after lunch and Lucilla swept past her.

  She was in a rage and prepared to vent it upon anyone. It was a pity that Mrs Simpkins, enjoying a gossip with her sister who lived in the village of North Curry where Lucilla’s family lived, should have mentioned Matilda’s illness and that she was being cared for at the doctor’s home. The news had reached Lucilla’s ears quickly enough and she’d lost no time in driving to Much Winterlow to see for herself.

  She addressed Kitty in peremptory tones. ‘What’s all this talk of that girl staying here in the house? Where’s the doctor? Why wasn’t I told?’

  Kitty backed away. ‘The doctor’s away on his rounds, miss, and Miss Paige is lying sick upstairs…’

  ‘Of all the nonsense—she should be sent to hospital. Why hasn’t she gone home? She has one, presumably? I shall wait for the doctor.’

  She pushed past Kitty and flung open the drawing-room door.

  ‘Come in—Lucilla, isn’t it?—and sit down,’ said Aunt Kate. ‘You seem upset. Henry won’t be back for some time but I’m sure you will stay a little while and have a cup of tea with me presently.’

  Lucilla said, ‘Miss Lovell—I didn’t expect to find you here. I heard some tale about Henry’s receptionist being here…’

  ‘Indeed she is—very ill with flu; too ill to move. How fortunate that I was visiting Henry and have been able to look after her. There has been such a lot of flu about, hasn’t there? It is most kind of you to come all this way to ask after her.’

  ‘Yes, well…has she no home to go to?’

  ‘Her parents live in the village but she has a semi-invalid father and I understand that her mother is very delicate.’

  Aunt Kate fell silent, knitted a row of the garment she was working on and added gently, ‘Such a hard worker; I’m told that she was a great help to Henry during these last difficult weeks. Such a pity that after helping so many people she should have been struck down herself.’

  Lucilla said, ‘Oh, yes,’ in an insinc
ere voice and Aunt Kate, glancing at her with bright blue eyes, decided that she definitely didn’t like the girl. Beautiful, but no heart, she decided silently, and began a series of polite enquiries about Lucilla’s family. She didn’t much care for her family either; it would be a disastrous marriage if she managed to get Henry to the altar. Aunt Kate reflected thankfully that Henry was no fool; he had been attracted to Lucilla—after all, she was a beautiful young woman—but he would want more than beauty in the girl he chose to marry.

  Aunt Kate heaved a sigh and hoped that Kitty would have the good sense to bring the tea tray without being asked to do so. Mrs Inch would still be having her afternoon nap and Kitty might be busy in the kitchen and not notice the time.

  The door opened and Kitty came in, set the tray down on the small table by Aunt Kate and assured her that she would take tea upstairs to Miss Paige when she went to rouse Mrs Inch.

  Aunt Kate poured tea, offered cake, and polite small talk, and wished that Henry would return. But there was no sign of him and presently Lucilla said, ‘I won’t stay; Henry will probably be late and the evenings are so dark for driving. May I go and tidy myself…?’

  ‘Of course, Lucilla. You know where the cloakroom is, don’t you?’

  Lucilla smiled and went out of the room but not to the cloakroom. She ran silently up the staircase and opened doors just as silently until she opened the door into the dimly lit room where Matilda was in bed. She had been asleep but turned her head and half sat up as the door opened to stare at Lucilla. She said in a still hoarse voice, ‘Hello. It’s Miss Armstrong, isn’t it?’

  Lucilla came and stood by the bed. She said in a satisfied voice, ‘You look frightful; you’re not exactly eye-catching when you are on your feet but now you look like a washed-out hag.’ She laughed. ‘And to think I was worried…!’

  She had gone again before Matilda could say anything. But what was there to say anyway? She didn’t cry often but now the tears welled up and she let them trickle down her cheeks. If she was a washed-out hag what would a few tears matter?