A Match for Sister Maggy (7 page)

Mevrouw Doelsma gasped, ‘Good heavens, Paul! Cobber's far too strong for her. Was she all right?'

The doctor inspected the roast partridge on his plate before replying.

‘You are alarmed for Sister MacFergus, my dear mother, whereas I was alarmed for Cobber.'

His mother looked indignant.

‘Paul, sometimes I have no patience with you! I hope that one day, when you do fall in love, it will be with a woman who refuses to be ignored for a horse!'

This remark made her son laugh and restored his good humour, so that the rest of the meal was spent cheerfully enough making plans for her forthcoming trip to Leiden.

After their coffee, Mevrouw Doelsma declared her intention of going to the kitchen and having a word with Mrs Pratt. Paul lighted his pipe and strolled across to his study. Maggy was coming down the stairs with her tray as he crossed the hall. She reddened when she saw him, but said nothing when he took the tray from her and said quite gently,

‘You have no need to carry trays, Maggy.' He put it down, and went on, ‘Will you come into the study for a moment?'

He opened the door for her, and she went in, still saying nothing. She had not been in the room before. It was lofty, with large windows overlooking the garden at the side of the house. The walls were panelled, and besides the enormous desk it was furnished with a selection of comfortable leather armchairs, piled untidily with books and papers which the shelves around the walls could no longer accommodate.

‘Sit down, Sister,' he said quietly.

Maggy sat, her large capable hands folded in her white starched lap, her serene manner hiding her chaotic thoughts.

He came and stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets, and she studied his shoes—nice hand-made ones, not too new. She had no doubt that he was looking at her, and very crossly too, she was certain. She had no intention of meeting his gaze.

When he spoke, his voice was still quiet, but it sounded friendly.

‘Maggy, I must beg your pardon.'

Her intention not to look at him was forgotten in her astonishment. Her head jerked back so that her eyes could verify what her ears had heard. Her mouth hung very slightly open.

‘I had no right to speak to you as I did this morning; it was most uncivil of me—' he paused. She smiled warmly at him, but he chose to ignore this, looking severely over her head. ‘Nevertheless, I must ask you not to ride Cobber unless I give my permission.'

Maggy stiffened slightly. ‘I should not have ridden him; I have said I was sorry, sir…but I can manage him.' She encountered his furious glance, and stopped.

‘Are you suggesting that you should ride Cobber whenever you wish? Indeed, Sister MacFergus, I hope that I am not an unreasonable man, but you must at least allow me my own horse!' He sounded as angry as he looked. ‘My mother tells me that you have been driving the Daimler. You have your driving licence with you. I hope? I must take Pratt's word for it that you are competent, I suppose.' He spoke with an icy politeness; he had quite forgotten that only a few minutes before he had been begging her pardon.

Maggy rose to her feet, brows a rigid line above blazing eyes. It was obvious that she had inherited the temper of the more belligerent of her Highland forebears.

‘Ye're an angry wee man, Doctor, and not worth the answering, and I'm none so mild mesel' at the present.'

He watched while she crossed to the door and went out, closing it very quietly behind her, and presently began to laugh.

 

Maggy tucked her patient up for her afternoon nap, and went to her room to write letters; she thought that the less she saw of the doctor, for a time at least, the better. She was feeling ashamed of herself. She had behaved badly, and now she would have to apologise; he might even ask her to return to England. She stopped writing, aghast at the idea, until common sense told her that he was unlikely to take such a step. He had only to tell Pratt and the groom that he didn't wish her to drive the car or ride. Maggy fancied that he was a man who expected and got his wishes obeyed. She would have to walk. She looked out of the window at the pleasant, placid scenery, stretching away flatly to the horizon, and suddenly wanted hills and heather; she struggled with a strong desire to burst into tears, and presently sat down and wrote several long and slightly mendacious letters.

She had tea with Mevrouw Doelsma and then helped her downstairs to the front door, where Pratt was waiting to take them for a drive. Maggy settled her patient in the back seat and got in beside her, saying: ‘I'd like to sit beside you today, I can't enjoy the scenery if I'm driving.'

Mevrouw Doelsma agreed that this was a good idea, and the first part of the journey was passed pleasantly discussing the various landmarks they passed. Presently Maggy brought the conversation round to the proposed trip to Leiden, which interesting topic kept them engrossed until their return to Oudehof.

When they went down to dinner, the doctor was waiting for them in the drawing room. He greeted them pleasantly, and enquired after his mother's day. During dinner he included Maggy meticulously in the conversation, treating her with a frosty politeness which chilled her to the bone. When she had settled Mevrouw Doelsma by the fire once more, she excused herself on the pretext of writing letters, and escaped to her room. When she returned an hour later, she found them playing bézique and laughing a great deal; it was impossible not to notice how different the doctor looked when he laughed. Maggy thought wistfully that it would be fun to laugh with him; the possibility seemed unlikely.

Mevrouw Doelsma took a long time to put to bed—pills and blood pressure, TPR and checking carefully that her ankles hadn't swollen. At last she was lying comfortably against her pillows, with the bedside lamp adjusted, and book, glasses and bell all within reach. They wished each other a friendly goodnight, and Maggy went to her own room and to bed. She didn't think Dr Doelsma was expecting her downstairs again.

The bell woke her at once; she was out of bed, scuffing her feet into her slippers and putting on her dressing gown
as she went. Mevrouw Doelsma looked small and white in the big bed, and there were beads of sweat on her forehead; her eyes implored Maggy, who took one all-embracing, understanding look and fetched a basin. She lifted Mevrouw Doelsma with one strong young arm and held her comfortably in its circle.

‘That delicious lobster ye had for dinner,' she said practically. ‘Ye'll feel better in a wee moment, and when ye are, I'll fetch the doctor…'

‘I'm here.' His voice came from behind her.

She didn't turn round, but said in a sensible voice,

‘If you'll go to the other side of the bed and hold Mevrouw Doelsma while I change the bowl…?'

He complied, and she heard him talking low-voiced to his mother. When she returned to the bedside, he had his mother's wrist in his fingers. Maggy fetched the BP box and wound the cuff on to Mevrouw Doelsma's arm, saying comfortably,

‘You don't need to worry; the doctor'll tell you it's bilious ye've been.'

She handed the stethoscope across the bed to him, and tossed her hair, hanging loose around her shoulders and down her back; she was completely unself-conscious, intent only on her patient.

Dr Doelsma examined his mother, then handed the stethoscope back to Maggy without looking at her.

‘Maggy's right, Mama. You've no need to worry; it's not a heart attack, it's lobster! You feel better already, don't you?'

His mother nodded. ‘How silly of me! I'm so sorry to have got you both out of bed for nothing.'

‘I'm not minding,' said Maggy calmly, ‘and I doubt the doctor's minding either.' She looked across the bed. ‘Will you be kind enough to support your mother, sir, while I
shake up the pillows?' She pushed up her dressing gown sleeves the better to work. The cord of her dressing gown had worked loose too, she undid it and wrapped the garment closely around her, pulling the cord tightly around her neat waist. The simple action, guilelessly done, made her seem very young and childlike despite her size. She shook the pillows with a vigorous grace, and having rearranged them to her satisfaction waited while the doctor laid his mother back amongst them.

‘There,' she said cheerfully, ‘I'll sponge your face and hands, and make you a cup of tea, and you'll be asleep again in ten minutes or so.'

She padded noiselessly around the big room collecting what she needed, and went back to the bed to find the doctor sitting on its edge, his mother's hand in his large one. He looked quite different; his rather tousled hair made him look very young, despite the elegant silk dressing gown he was wearing. They smiled at each other in a comfortable friendly fashion and he got up.

‘I'll go and put the kettle on. I'll be back in ten minutes, will that be all right?'

Half an hour later Mevrouw Doelsma, now pleasantly sleepy, said goodnight for the second time. Her son had brought a cup of tea, and told her bracingly that there was nothing for her to worry about, and she could now go to sleep. He kissed her cheek gently, said goodnight and went away, leaving Maggy to switch on the small night lamp before she too went to her room.

It had become quite chilly. She looked at her watch, it was almost three o'clock. She got the cooling bottle from her bed and crept downstairs to fill it. There was a lamp burning in the hall, but the dining room was in darkness. Maggy made her away through it to the kitchen door and
opened it. It looked very cosy. There was a brown earthenware tea-pot on the table, with cups and saucers, and a milk jug and sugar bowl. Dr Doelsma was making toast. He looked up.

‘Ah, there you are! I was going to bring it up to your room.' He saw the hot water bottle she was clutching, took the toast from toaster and said, ‘Butter these, will you, while I fill your water bottle.' He didn't seem to expect an answer, so she obediently took the toast and buttered it, while he filled the hot water bottle and took it up to her room.

‘I could have taken it,' Maggy said rather weakly when he came back.

‘I'm sure you could.' He poured the tea. ‘You are, I think, able to do most things very well.'

He handed her a cup, then fetched one of the old-fashioned ladderback chairs and set it behind her. ‘Sit down.' He pulled up a second chair opposite to her, and handed her a slice of toast. They drank and munched in restful silence until he asked suddenly,

‘Maggy do you like me?'

She put down her cup carefully. Her cheeks were pink, but she looked at him honestly.

‘Aye, Doctor.'

‘Even when I'm a wee evil-tempered man?'

The pinkness spread, but she replied steadily, ‘Yes, even then.'

He went on conversationally, ‘I like you—and admire your capabilities. Do you think we could be friends?' He held out a firm, well kept hand. ‘I apologise again, Maggy.'

Maggy took the hand, and her own was immediately engulfed in its clasp; it felt very comforting. She said rather timidly, ‘I was very rude; I'm sorry too. I thought you would send me back to England.'

He raised dark eyebrows at this, and then burst out laughing.

‘My dear girl, surely you know that we would be lost without you? It's only because you are here that I am able to spend so much time in Leiden, and go to Utrecht whenever I wish.'

Stien lived in Utrecht. Of course, he would want to go there whenever he could. The thought hurt Maggy like a physical blow. She took a drink of hot strong tea and nearly choked at his next words.

‘Will you ride with me tomorrow, Maggy?'

She didn't trust herself to look up, but said shyly, ‘Thank you, I'd like to.'

‘Er—I'll ride Cobber this time.' She did look up then, to find him smiling at her. He went on: ‘But I'll tell Piet that you are to exercise him when I'm not here.' He took no notice of her attempt to thank him, but continued, ‘I'm heaping coals of fire, aren't I? We'll take Mother for a run in the car tomorrow, and you shall drive; and don't think that I said that because I don't trust you to handle a car.'

He smiled again, and this time Maggy smiled back. She might not have his love, but to have his friendship would be worth a great deal to her. She wondered if Stien knew how lucky she was. She got up, collected the cups and saucers and stacked them neatly in the sink.

‘I think I'll go to bed. Thank you for the tea, Dr Doelsma.' She stood, drooping with sleep, her hair hanging unheeded around her shoulders, her eyes enormous in a face devoid of make-up.

He looked at her briefly, then away again. ‘Shall we say seven-thirty tomorrow?'

‘Yes—that's provided Mevrouw Doelsma is all right.'

He opened the door for her, and Maggy said good-night and walked sleepily across the dining room and out into the hall, and up the stairs. Long before Paul turned out the lights and went to his own room, she was fast asleep.

 

They rode for almost an hour before breakfast, the doctor immaculate in riding kit, Maggy in her old slacks and thick sweater. She wasted a few moments wishing that she had other clothes to wear, then forgot about them as she swung herself easily on to Biddy's friendly back. If she envied the doctor Cobber, she gave no sign. As they turned for home, they broke into a brief gallop, and he held Cobber in, so that they raced neck and neck, until he allowed her to win by a short head. They pulled up outside the stables, and Maggy slid out of the saddle to make much of Biddy and give her the sugar lumps she loved. Her hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail, had come loose from its ribbon and her face glowed with happiness. She had been chattering to the doctor like an old friend. They left the horses with Piet, the groom, and went back to the house. At the door she paused.

‘That was lovely,' she said. ‘Thank you.'

He stood aside to let her pass, looking down at her. ‘A delightful ride,' he said. ‘We must do it again.'