A Summer Idyll

Phoebe nodded happily. If this was Aunt Kate’s little whipper-snapper then she liked him. She closed the door after him and went back to her cooking. Life was suddenly full of promise. She hadn’t thought of Basil even once.

CHAPTER TWO

AUNT KATE, while showing no gratitude for her supper, ate all of it, reminded Phoebe that she would have a glass of hot milk at nine o’clock precisely and told her grudgingly that she might go downstairs and eat her own meal. But first she needed her pillows shaken up, her spectacles, glass of water, and the local newspaper. Only then did she add: ‘At least your cooking is passable, and don’t forget my milk.’ She added: ‘I shall be perfectly all right for an hour or so. When you’ve cleared up you can unpack your things.’

‘Yes, Aunt Kate.’ Phoebe spoke mildly, her thoughts on supper.

She had had the forethought to leave the front door on the latch, and before she had done more than clear the tray, a thin elderly woman came quietly in. She was dressed in a thick skirt and a grey cardigan, which, with her pepper-and-salt hair cut severely short and her pale face, gave Phoebe the impression that she was looking at an etching. They shook hands and she changed her mind. Mrs Thirsk had the bluest eyes she had ever met, and when she smiled her whole face lit up.

‘Supper’s on the table, Miss…’

‘Call me. Phoebe, please, Mrs Thirsk.’

‘Phoebe.’ The smile came and went again. ‘But I’ll just see to these…’

‘You leave them. The doctor said you were to go straight over.’ She studied Phoebe’s small, too thin figure. ‘You look as though you could do with a good hot meal.’

‘Oh, I could—there’s been no time…’

‘And nothing in the house, I’ll be bound.’ Mrs Thirsk went to the sink and filled the bowl with water from the kettle. ‘I’ve brought my knitting,’ she stated. ‘Take your jacket, it’s chilly.’

Phoebe nodded, slung her cardigan over her shoulders and went out of the house, across the green, to tap on the solid wooden door of the doctor’s house. It was a good deal grander than her aunt’s, of white bricks, with a tiled roof and Elizabethan chimneypots to match and latticed windows. She stood back to get a better view just as the door was opened.

‘Come in,’ invited Dr Pritchard, ‘it’s rabbit stew with dumplings—one of Mrs Thirsk’s masterpieces.’

The hall was square, with a curved staircase to one side of it and several doors leading from it. The floor was of flagstones covered for the most part with rugs with a carved chest along one wall. A large black labrador pranced to meet Phoebe as she went in, sniffed her fist and barked cheerfully.

‘Beauty,’ said Dr Pritchard, ‘I hope you like dogs?’

‘Oh, yes, but I’ve never had one of my own.’ She gave him a rather shy smile. ‘I like cats too.’

‘In the kitchen,’ he said briefly, ‘a basket full of them; Venus has just had kittens.’

He pushed open one of the doors and she went past him into the sitting room, a low-ceilinged, beamed and cosily furnished room, with chairs pulled up to the log fire in the wide hearth.

‘You could do with a glass of sherry,’ stated the doctor, and handed her one before she could answer. ‘Do sit down.’

They didn’t talk much as they had their drinks, only a few questions and answers; how long was it since she had been there? How far was she with her training? Did she intend to resume that later on?

To all of which she replied a little vaguely, since she hadn’t really thought about it yet. And over supper the doctor kept the conversation on general topics while they ate with healthy appetites. It was only when they had carried the dishes to the kitchen, admired Venus and her kittens and taken the coffee tray into the sitting room that he started to tell her about Aunt Kate.

‘Of course, she can’t last out much longer,’ he explained. ‘She’s worn out and her heart is already weak. I’ve done what I can, but she refuses to go into hospital or a nursing home and the nurse I arranged for was given short shift. How about you? You’ve not had much to say so far.’

‘Well, I’ve not had much time to think about it, have I? Phoebe’s quiet face was turned to the fire. ‘Of course, I shall stay even if Aunt Kate dislikes it, and she will in a few days, even though she insisted on my coming. She’s never liked anyone in the family and I’m the only one left now. She says it’s my duty.’

She glanced at the doctor watching her intently. ‘There’s nothing else to do,’ she added simply. ‘But I’d much rather not.’

‘Any ties?’ he asked idly, and when she looked puzzled. ‘Boy-friends and so forth?’

Phoebe went pink. ‘No.’ She had the urge to tell him all about Basil and how coming to Aunt Kate’s had solved that problem for her, but after all, she had only just met him. When she didn’t say anything he said slowly: ‘Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it? Now, as to treatment…’

He was all at once the doctor.

‘When he had finished she said: ‘I’ll do my best, Dr Pritchard. Do you come every day to see Aunt Kate?’

‘Oh, yes. Just a quick check up, you know.’ He smiled at her very kindly. ‘And don’t forget to pass on any problems, however small.’

It seemed the right moment to go and he made no effort to keep her, but walked across the green to her aunt’s door and waited until Mrs Thirsk opened it, said a few brief words to Phoebe and went back with her. Phoebe, closing the door slowly, watched them go, comforted by the fact that they were within shouting distance.

Aunt Kate was sitting up in bed reading. As Phoebe went in she looked up and asked: ‘My milk—is it ready? It’s more than time—and I have some pills to take.’

‘Yes, Aunt, I’ll fetch the milk now and your pills. Is there anything I can do for you before you have them?’

Aunt Kate rapped out a list of small wants. ‘And mind you lock up properly,’ she ended breathlessly ‘I never trusted that other creature.’ She fell into a fit of coughing and finally gasped crossly: ‘For heaven’s sake, Phoebe, don’t just stand there!’

It took almost an hour to settle Aunt Kate for the night. When she was at last satisfied that everything had been done to her satisfaction, she lay back against her pillows, allowed Phoebe to shade the bedside light and declared herself ready for sleep. ‘And don’t forget that I like my tea at seven o’clock,’ she commanded as Phoebe bade her goodnight.

There were chores to do downstairs, but presently she locked up and went to her room where she unpacked and undressed. The room looked better already with her own things scattered round it. Tomorrow she would get some flowers and look in the cupboard on the landing and see if there was a more colourful bedspread.

Aunt Kate was asleep, looking old and frail, so that Phoebe, peeping round the door, felt a pang of real pity. With any luck, she would sleep the night through. Phoebe crept into the bathroom on the other side of the landing and turned on the old-fashioned geyser and presently sank into a hot bath. The day had been long and eventful and she was tired. It was an effort to get herself out and into her bed, and once there she was asleep at once.

She was used to getting up early. She was downstairs in the kitchen in her dressing gown making tea when Aunt Kate rang her bell. Phoebe picked up the tea tray and hurried upstairs, to find the old lady irritable and impatient.

‘Still in your dressing gown?’ she wanted to know. ‘I hope you’re not lazy…’

Phoebe wished her good morning, sat her up against freshly shaken pillows and offered her pills and tea. ‘I’ll dress while you drink your tea, and then I’ll freshen you up before breakfast.’

She prudently didn’t wait for Aunt Kate to disagree, but whisked herself back to her own room, got into a grey wool dress which did nothing for her at, all, tied her hair back with a ribbon to save time, and went back to Aunt Kate.

Aunt Kate was as firmly against being washed and put into a clean nightie as Phoebe was determined that this was to be done. Phoebe won. A stint on Women’s Medical Ward had taught her how to get round elderly ladies who wanted to do exactly the opposite of what was asked of them; calm, kindness and never-ending patience were three virtues she had acquired and she was by nature a kind girl. Aunt Kate, almost without realising it, found herself washed, clad in another of her old-fashioned nightgowns, her hair combed and pinned into a tidy knot, and then she was lifted into a bedside chair, where she sat watching clean sheets being put on her bed and wearily scolding at the extra washing which would have to be done. Phoebe popped her back into bed while she was still complaining. ‘There,’ she said, ‘isn’t that better? I’ll get your breakfast.’

Coddled egg, thin bread and butter and a cup of tea, nicely arranged on a tray—even Aunt Kate could find no fault with that. Phoebe went back to the kitchen and boiled an egg, made some toast and a pot of tea and sat down at the table to eat her own breakfast, while she made a list of the shopping which had to be done. She hadn’t finished when Susan arrived, accepted a cup of tea, and declared her intention of giving the kitchen a good going over. ‘But I’ll tidy up first, miss, only Miss Mason don’t much like me in her room.’

‘Then I’ll do it—you see to the rest of the house, Susan, just as you always do. Dr Pritchard doesn’t come until after surgery, does he? I’ll go out as soon as I’ve seen to my aunt and do the shopping.’

Aunt Kate had eaten most of her breakfast. ‘And what do you fancy for your lunch?’ enquired Phoebe. ‘I’m going to the shops presently. What about a morsel of chicken and potato with some mashed parsnips?’

‘Chicken costs a lot of money,’ observed Miss Mason.

‘Cheaper than meat, Aunt Kate. And I’ll get a marrow bone and make soup—that’s nice with toast for supper.’ She added carefully: ‘I’ll need some money.’

Aunt Kate put her hand under the bedclothes and withdrew a purse, she had sat with it in her hand while Phoebe had made the bed. ‘I’m a poor old woman,’ she said with mournful mendacity. ‘We’ll be starving at this rate.’

‘I’m a good manager,’ Phoebe assured her, ‘but there really is nothing in the larder, and you need good nourishing food. The milkman called just now and said you only had a pint every other day; I asked him to leave a pint each day. I can make milk puddings and custards which won’t cost much and will do you good.’ She added cunningly: ‘There’s masses of rice in the kitchen cupboard, and semolina too—no need to buy those for weeks.’

‘You’ll use up everything there is,’ demanded Aunt Kate, ‘and not waste my money!’

Phoebe was nipping round the room with a duster; she could have written her name on the old-fashioned mantlepiece. Obviously the nurse had either not bothered, or Aunt Kate had refused to let her keep the room clean, let alone tidy. The floor could do with a good Hoovering, only she doubted if Aunt Kate had such a thing in the house. Oblivious to her aunt’s complaining voice, she wiped down the ledges and the table tops, and collected newspapers, pacifying her aunt with the paper which had just arrived. Promising to be back to give her her elevenses, she got a jacket and let herself out of the house. It was only just after nine o’clock and the street was quiet, although there were several cars outside the doctor’s house, Phoebe walked the short distance to where the shops were—the butcher’s, the general store and Post Office, and tucked in between these, a bow-fronted window full of small antiques. She paused a moment to peer at these before opening the door of the stores. There was no one in the shop, but the old-fashioned bell at the door brought a small round woman from the door behind the counter.