Here’s a link to Part Two
My calls were finished well before tea time, but rather than heading home, I returned to the surgery to complete my notes. Reverting to old habits this week, I claimed it made more sense to keep all the files in the surgery, but even to my own ears the argument sounded feeble.
Excuses depleted, it was time to head home. I shrugged my shoulders into my coat and patted my pockets for my keys. My hand found its way to my breast pocket again, and I felt the silk of Shelagh’s scarf cool against my fingers.
Her face appeared before me as it was this morning before I left, the same combination of anguish and bitterness that made me turn away; that very same combination I had seen after that disastrous interview. It hurt to breathe suddenly.
Shelagh had what she wanted now, the Agency’s approval assured that. From the very start, there was a baby between us, and today’s letter would finally make that dream a reality. Despite my blunders, the adoption agency approved us as parents. I wanted to feel relief, but couldn’t.
The shrill ring of the telephone brought me back to the present and I picked up the receiver.
Peter Noakes was never one for hyperbole, but his strained response to my questions over the phone made it plain the situation was urgent. Guilty in my eagerness to avoid home, I rushed to the aid of Lady Browne.
A brief examination confirmed my suspicions. The only remaining care we could offer was palliative. Morphine would help ease my patient through the worst of the pain, but I could offer no relief for the uneasiness and tension that filled the room.
Nurse Noakes was never one to fade into the background. Her personality, even more than her size, made others notice her. Curiously, in her own sitting room, she seemed to shrink. Aside from an overly-cheerful greeting, she had little to say as I examined her mother.
Lady Browne’s illness did nothing to diminish the force of her own personality, however. She reminded me of some career officers from my Medical Corp days, autocratic and cold, but there was an added layer of bitterness that hinted at deep discontent. She would hold the ramparts against her disease, but at great cost.
As Nurse Noakes fled the sitting room to see to the routine tasks of preparing the sickroom, it seemed obvious that she felt the cause of her mother’s disappointments. I knew enough of the family’s past to be concerned that these last days could be more than they could handle.
Peter Noakes stood in the doorway, his face lined with concern. He turned to Nurse Lee and opened his arms to his son. “I’ll have him, then.” The toddler quickly settled in his father’s arms. “Cup of tea, Doctor?” He gestured towards the kitchen.
I nodded back. “Yes. Thank you.” I lifted my case and followed him to the back of the house.
The police sergeant moved about the warm room, the child in the playpen never far from his attention. He had an ease with the child I admired. Peter Noakes was no stranger to the day-to-day care of his son.
I wondered if I felt a bit of envy, as well. Timothy was born almost precisely the same time as the NHS, and while I had Marianne to tend to my family at home, I was on my own with the new healthcare system. Rather than witness my son’s milestones, I learned of them late at night, or sometimes over the telephone lines. Another regret.
I cleared my throat. “I’d have thought your mother-in-law would be in private hospital. Are there any circumstances I should be aware of concerning Lady Browne’s care?”
Steam rose from the kettle as Sgt Noakes filled the teapot. He sighed heavily, as if he were choosing his words carefully. Finally, he answered. “Lady Browne and Sir Arthur have…gone their separate ways, and I’m afraid it’s left her a bit skint at the moment.” He carried the teatray to the table. “She was on her way to leaving our home when she had this attack. If she’d been anywhere else, I’m sure she’d have kept it from us.”
Freddie pulled himself up to stand in his playpen and squawked in time to his bounce. His father smiled at him, and passed a biscuit to the outstretched hand. “Don’t tell Camilla,” he confided. “She doesn’t like him to have sweets, but the poor little man can’t help it. He’s got his dad’s sweet tooth.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “With Timothy and me it’s cheese. Shelagh says we should have been mice.”
Sergeant Noakes chuckled.“Nice to be taken care of though, isn’t it?” His face grew grave. “To tell you the truth, Doctor, it’s Camilla I’m most worried about. She and her mother have never been close–well, that’s an understatement. Boarding schools and yearly visits–my wife’s got a tender heart, Doctor Turner. She pretends it doesn’t bother her, but it does. And now Lady Browne’s so ill, I’m afraid Camilla’s heart will break.”
My eyes stayed on my teacup. Peter Noakes needed a listener right now, not my advice.
“Lady Browne is so committed to her own dignity, she won’t even discuss what’s right in front of her. A good row, that’s what they need. Instead, Camilla’s family let it all fester. And now it’s too late to fix it. Camilla will watch her mother die and never be able to say the things she needs to, or hear the things she needs to hear.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Such a waste. I know they love each other, but the walls are too thick.”
Young Freddie tossed a cloth lion from his playpen and his father stooped to pick it up. His hand caressed the fine dark hair on the boy’s head. “I can’t imagine turning away from this little fellow, not in a million lifetimes. He’s brought us more joy than we ever imagined.”
At that moment the man turned his face away from me. Perhaps to disguise his emotions, he reached down to his son and lifted him into his arms. “How ‘bout a hug for your old man, then, hey?”
I was suddenly desperate to get away. I stood and announced, “I’m off then, Sergeant. Nurse Lee will know exactly what to do, but if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call me.” I made for the kitchen doorway and turned back. “I’m really very sorry, Peter. Shelagh and I…”
I couldn’t finish, but he understood. He reached out and clasped my outstretched hand.
*”From the very start, there was a baby between us”–this line is taken from a quote by Stephen McGann in series 3 promotional materials. Here’s a link to @bannatnd.tumblr.com’s post back from December 2013.
My Little Yellowbird 