Marrying a Doctor: The Doctor's Girl - new / A Special Kind Of Woman

‘I found them, luckily,’ she explained to him. ‘I can’t afford to slip up, can I, Sam? I don’t wish Miss Priss to be too worried about her mother, but I do hope she won’t come back until I’ve saved some money and found a job where you’ll be welcome.’

Sam paused in his wash and brush-up and gave her a look. He was going to be a handsome cat, but he wasn’t young any more, so a settled life would suit him down to the ground. He conveyed his feelings with a look, and Loveday said, ‘Yes, I know, Sam. But I’ll not part with you, I promise.’

At the end of the week she found an envelope with her wages on her desk, and when she thanked the doctor he said, ‘I’ll be away for the weekend. You’ll be here in the morning? Take any phone calls, and for anything urgent you can reach me at the number on my desk. Set the answering-machine when you leave. I have a patient at half past nine on Monday morning.’ At the door he paused. ‘I hope you have a pleasant weekend.’

At noon on Saturday she locked the consulting rooms and went to her little flat. With Sam on her lap she made a shopping list, ate her lunch and, bidding him to be a good boy, set off to the nearest shops. The porter had told her that five minutes’ walk away there were shops which should supply her needs. ‘Nothing posh,’ he said. ‘Been there for years, they have, very handy, too.’

She soon found them, tucked away behind the rather grand houses: the butcher, the baker, the greengrocer, all inhabiting small and rather shabby shops, but selling everything she had on her list. There was a newsagent too, selling soft drinks, chocolates and sweets, and with a shelf of second-hand books going cheap.

Loveday went back to her flat and unpacked her carrier bags. She still wasn’t sure when she could get out during the day, and had prudently stocked up with enough food to last for several days. That done, she sat down to her tea and made another list—clothes, this time. They were a pipe dream at the moment, but there was no harm in considering what she would buy once she had saved up enough money to spend some of it.

It was very quiet in the house. Todd had locked up and gone home, and the place would be empty now until he came again around six o’clock on Monday morning. Loveday wasn’t nervous; indeed she welcomed the silence after Miss Cattell’s voice raised unendingly in demands and complaints. She washed her hair and went to bed early, with Sam for company.

She went walking on Sunday, to St James’s Park and then Hyde Park, stopping for coffee on the way. It was a chilly day but she was happy. To be free, with money in her purse and a home to go back to—what more could she ask of life? she reflected. Well, quite a bit, she conceded—a husband, children and a home…and to be loved.

‘A waste of time,’ said Loveday, with no one to hear her. ‘Who would want to marry me in the first place and how would I ever meet him?’

She walked on briskly. He would have to love her even though she wasn’t pretty, and preferably have enough money to have a nice home and like children. Never mind what he looked like…She paused. Yes, she did mind—he would need to be tall and reassuringly large, and she wouldn’t object to him wearing specs on his handsome nose…

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ said Loveday. ‘Just because he’s the only man who has spoken to you for years.’

She took herself off back home and had a leisurely lunch—a lamb chop, sprouts and a jacket potato, with a tub of yoghurt for pudding—and then sat in the little armchair with Sam on her lap and read the Sunday paper from front to back. And then tea, and later supper and bed.

‘Some would call it a dull day, but we’ve enjoyed every minute of it,’ she told Sam.

The week began well. The nurse, whom she seldom saw, had treated her with coolness at first, and then, realising that Loveday presented no risk to her status, became casually friendly. As for Dr Fforde, he treated her with the brisk, friendly manner which she found daunting. But such treatment was only to be expected….

It was almost the end of the week when he came earlier than usual to the consulting rooms. She gave him coffee and, since she was for the moment idle, paused to tell him that Sam had turned into a handsome cat. ‘And he’s very intelligent,’ she added chattily. ‘You really should come up and see him some time…’

The moment she had uttered them she wished the words unsaid. The doctor’s cool, ‘I’m glad to hear that he has made such a good recovery,’ uttered in a dismissive voice sent the colour into her cheeks. Of course the very idea of his climbing the stairs to her little flat to look at the cat was ridiculous. As though he had the slightest interest…

She buried her hot face in the filing cabinet. Never, never, she vowed, would she make that mistake again.

Dr Fforde, watching her, wondered how best to explain to her that visiting her at the flat would cause gossip—friendly, no doubt, but to be avoided. He decided to say nothing, but asked her in his usual grave way to telephone the hospital and say that he might be half an hour late.

‘Mrs Seward has an appointment after the last patient. She is not a patient, so please show her in at once.’

The last patient had barely been shown out when Mrs Seward arrived. She was tall, slender, with a lovely face, skilfully made up, and wearing the kind of clothes Loveday dreamed of. She had a lovely smile, too.

‘Hello—you’re new, aren’t you? What’s happened to Miss Priss? Has Andrew finished? I’m a bit early.’

‘Mrs Seward? Dr Fforde’s expecting you.’

Loveday opened his door and stood aside for Mrs Seward to go in. Before she closed it she heard him say, ‘Margaret—this is delightful.’

‘Andrew, it’s been so long…’ was Mrs Seward’s happy reply.

Loveday went back to her desk and got out the afternoon patients’ notes. That done, she entered their names and phone numbers into the daily diary. It was time for her to go to her lunch, but she supposed that she should stay; they would go presently and she could lock up. He would be at the hospital during the afternoon, and there were no more patients until almost four o’clock.

She didn’t have long to wait. They came out together presently, and the doctor stopped at the desk and asked her to lock up. ‘And since the first patient is at four o’clock there’s no need for you to come back until three.’

His voice was as kind as his smile. Mrs Seward smiled too. On their way down to the car she said, ‘I like your receptionist. A mouse with green eyes.’

The extra hour or so for lunch wasn’t to be ignored. Loveday gobbled a sandwich, fed Sam, and went shopping, returning with her own simple needs and weighed down by tins of cat food and more books. She had seen that the funny little shop squeezed in between the grocer and the butcher sold just about everything and had noticed some small, cheap radios. On pay day, she promised herself, she would buy one. And the greengrocer had had a bucketful of chrysanthemums outside his shop; they perhaps weren’t quite as fresh as they might have been, but they would add a cheerful splash of colour in the flat.

The doctor arrived back five minutes before his patient, accepted the cup of tea she offered him and, when the last patient of the afternoon had gone, bade her goodnight without loss of time.

‘They’ll go out this evening,’ said Loveday aloud. ‘To one of those restaurants with little lamps on the tables. And then they’ll go dancing. She’s quite beautiful. They make a handsome pair.’

She locked up with her usual care and went upstairs to give Sam his supper and herself a pot of tea. She would have a pleasant evening, she told herself: an omelette for her supper and then a peaceful hour with one of the second-hand books.

‘I’m becoming an old maid,’ said Loveday.

There was news of Miss Priss in the morning; her mother was recovering from her stroke but must stay in hospital for another ten days. After that she would return home and be nursed by Miss Priss and a helper. There was every chance that she would recover, and then Miss Priss would be able to return to work once arrangements for her mother’s comfort could be made.

The doctor told Loveday this without going into details, and although she was sorry for Miss Priss and her mother, she couldn’t help feeling relief. She had known that sooner or later Miss Priss would be back, but the longer she could stay the more money she could save, and with some experience and a reference from the doctor she would have a better chance of finding work. She must remember, she told herself, to curb her tongue and not talk about herself or Sam.

As a result of this resolution the doctor was at first faintly amused and then puzzled at her wooden politeness towards him. She had become in the short time she had been working for him almost as efficient as Miss Priss; she was discreet, pleasantly attentive to his patients, willing to come early and work late if need be, and disappeared to her little flat so quietly that he barely noticed her going. And always there when he arrived in the mornings. It was what he expected and what he paid her for, but all the same he now had a vague sense of disquiet, so that he found himself thinking about her very frequently.

A few days later she went down rather earlier; there were more patients than usual today. The doctor would expect everything to be ready for them.

There was a man on the landing outside the consulting rooms, standing easily, hands in pockets, looking out of the landing window. He turned round to look at her as she reached the door.

He smiled at her and said good morning. ‘I hoped someone would come soon. I’d love a cup of coffee.’ At her surprised look, he added, ‘Oh, it’s quite all right, Andrew won’t mind.’

When she still stood there, looking at him, he added impatiently, ‘Open up, dear girl.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Loveday. ‘I don’t know who you are, and even if you told me I’m not to know whether it’s the truth. I’m so sorry, but if you want to see the doctor then you should come back at nine o’clock.’

She put the key in the lock. ‘I have no intention of letting you in.’

She whisked herself inside, locked the door again and left him there. He had been sure of himself, demanding coffee, behaving as if he knew the doctor, but he could so easily be intent on skulduggery…

She set about her morning chores and had everything just as the doctor liked and the coffee ready when he came in.

The young man was with him and they were both laughing.

The doctor’s good morning was said in his usual quiet manner, but his companion told Loveday, ‘You see, I am a bona fide caller. Are you not remorseful at your treatment of me? And I only asked to be let in and given coffee.’

‘You could have been a thief,’ said Loveday.

‘Quite right, Loveday,’ interposed the doctor. ‘You did the right thing and, since my cousin hasn’t the good grace to introduce himself, I must do it for him. Charles Fforde, this is Miss Loveday West, who is my most efficient receptionist.’

Charles offered a hand, and after a tiny pause she shook it.

‘What happened to Miss Prissy?’

‘I’ll tell you about her. Come into my room. There is time for coffee, but you must go away before my patients arrive.’ The doctor opened his door. ‘I should be free about one o’clock; we’ll have lunch together.’