A Kind of Magic

‘Edinburgh. My granddaughter and I were taking the train tour of the Highlands.’ Mrs Macdonald opened her eyes and studied his face. ‘And where are you from, may I ask?’

He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’m staying with Doctor Finlay for some fishing.’ He smiled at her suddenly and with great charm. ‘Now I want you to rest quietly while that ankle settles down. I shall write you up for something to relieve the pain, and within a couple of days or so you should be well enough to go for an X-ray. If it is, as I think, a sprain, then there is no reason why you shouldn’t go home and rest there. Now I am going to strap it firmly, and later, when you may get up, a viscopaste stocking must be applied.’

Mrs Macdonald might be a crotchety, selfish old lady but she had courage; she uttered no sound as he attended to the ankle, and when Rosie said urgently, ‘Oh, Granny’s fainted!’ the doctor said calmly, ‘Good, pass me that crêpe bandage and let us get finished before she comes round.’ He gave her a quick look. ‘You have arranged to stay here?’

‘Not yet.’ She spoke sharply, ‘I’ve had no time.’

‘Well, see about it now, will you? Get a room, and I’ll carry Mrs Macdonald up, then you get her undressed and in bed, and I’ll take another look at her before I go.’

There were two rooms on the first floor, she was told, with a communicating door and, providing she was prepared to pay for it, fortunately room service was available.

‘Good, we’ll have them. Could someone get the bed ready for my grandmother? The doctor will carry her up…’

There were plenty of willing helpers; Mrs Macdonald was carried up to her room and laid on the bed, and a chambermaid stayed to help get her into bed, offering a nightie and extra pillows, and helping Rosie to arrange a chair at the foot of the bed so that the bedclothes might be draped over it.

The doctor nodded approvingly when he came to see his patient again.

‘Your grandmother will do very well,’ he observed. ‘I can see that you’re a sensible lass. From these parts?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Well, I was born near here but we live in England now.’

He stood studying her, looking down his long nose in a manner which she found annoying. ‘Married?’

‘No.’

He smiled. ‘A woman of refreshingly few words.’ Then he added to surprise her, ‘Are you all right for money?’

‘Why, yes, thank you. It is kind of you to ask.’

‘Nothing kind about it—common sense in the circumstances. It would have gone on the bill.’

She ignored this. ‘Will you come to see my grandmother again? She is old, it must have been a shock…’

‘I’ll be over tomorrow, in the morning.’ He stared at her, and added, ‘Unless you would rather Dr Finlay took over the case?’

‘Why do you say that? Granny is perfectly satisfied…’

‘Good.’ He spoke carelessly. ‘Perhaps by tomorrow you and I will like each other a little better. Good day to you, Miss Macdonald.’

He had gone leaving her bewildered and decidedly ill-tempered.

CHAPTER TWO

ROSIE was kept busy for the rest of the morning; she telephoned Elspeth and promised to ring again that evening, then she phoned her mother.

‘Are you going to let Uncle Donald know?’ she asked, ‘Inverard is barely a dozen miles from the hotel; you could go there…’

‘Granny won’t hear of it. Oh, Mother, I’d love to see it again, only not with Uncle Donald there, and I think Granny feels the same. She never did like him…’

‘Will you be all right? Is there anything we can do, Rosie?’

‘Nothing, Mother, for the moment. I’ll phone you tomorrow when the doctor’s been again.’

She spent the rest of the day with her grandmother, leaving her only for long enough to have a meal and answer the anxious enquiries of the train manager. Their luggage had been sent back to Bridge of Orchy in the late afternoon, and was there anything that he could do to help them? He added that the crew and passengers on the train sent their best wishes for Mrs Macdonald’s speedy recovery.

‘We shall be doing this same trip next week,’ he reminded her, ‘and if you are still at the hotel we shall call on you both. Perhaps you will leave a message if you depart before then?’

She thanked him; he had been kind and more than concerned for their welfare, although it had been no fault of his or his staff. She felt even more grateful when their luggage arrived, and with it a splendid basket of fruit for her grandmother with the train staff’s best wishes.

Dr Cameron had left sleeping pills for her grandmother so that the old lady slept for a good part of the night. All the same, she woke in the early morning wanting her pillows rearranged, a cup of tea, and Rosie’s company.

The hotel bedrooms had tea and coffee, sugar and milk arranged by an electric kettle. Rosie made tea for them both, and sat with her grandmother until that lady dozed off once more, enabling her to return to her own room, shower and dress, and do the best she could with a tired face.

Dr Cameron came soon after breakfast. Mrs Macdonald, refreshed after a wash, a changed nightie and a light breakfast, greeted him with a tart, ‘Well, young man, and what do you intend to do this morning?’

His expression remained professionally calm. ‘Merely a quick look at that ankle. How did you sleep?’

He glanced at Rosie standing on the other side of the bed. ‘Rather wakeful?’

‘I have had considerable pain,’ said Mrs Macdonald waspishly. ‘Rosie gave me tea—oh, about four o’clock this morning, I suppose, and another of your pills; I dozed off eventually.’

The old lady then asked her granddaughter, ‘At what time did you leave me, Rosie?’

‘Ten to six, Granny.’

Dr Cameron gave her a hard stare; that would account for her pallor and her cross face. ‘If I might see this ankle?’ he prompted gently.

The limb was inspected, pronounced as satisfactory as circumstances allowed, and made comfortable.

‘Quite satisfactory,’ pronounced Dr Cameron, ‘but I believe that you will benefit from a change of sleeping tablets. A good night’s sleep is essential.’ He forbore from looking at her heavy-eyed granddaughter as he spoke. ‘I have a busy day ahead of me; perhaps it might be as well if your granddaughter were to return to the surgery with me now, collect them, and return with me—I have to go further along the road to a shepherd’s croft on Rannoch Moor.’

He didn’t wait for Mrs Macdonald to object to this. ‘If you could come right away?’ he asked Rosie. ‘I have Finlay’s patients to visit…’

It would be simply lovely to have a breath of air. ‘You’ll be all right, Granny?’

‘It seems that I shall have to be. Tell someone that I shall be alone until you return; I can only hope that I shall not need your services.’

‘Try and have a nap,’ said Rosie, ‘I shan’t be long.’

She fetched a cardigan, and followed the doctor out of the hotel, to squeeze into the small, shabby car, hardly suitable for two splendidly built persons, and be driven away without more ado.

It was a bright clear morning, the country through which they drove was remote and grandly rugged, snow-capped mountains filled the horizon, late primroses carpeted the rough grass. The lonely moor was at their backs as they climbed to Tyndrum Upper and over the viaducts towards Crianlarich.

Rose sighed with the pleasure of it all, and the doctor asked,

‘You know this part of the world?’ He glanced at her. ‘You said you were born near here?’

‘Yes.’