Читать книгу His Perfect Bride? - Louisa Heaton - Страница 9

DR OLIVER JAMES was just packing up for the day when his father, Patrick, put his head round the door.

‘Got a minute?’

Olly looked up, his bright blue eyes curious. ‘Yeah, sure. What’s up?’

His father was the senior GP at their practice in the village of Atlee Wold, although not for long. He was taking early retirement, and he’d hired a locum to fill his space until a more permanent doctor could be found.

‘That new locum I told you about. She’s here. I thought I’d introduce you.’

Right. The new locum. It was a day he was dreading—his father stepping down and away from the practice—and the arrival of a locum brought that day another step closer.

And he was exhausted. It had been a long, cold day. With all the snow outside, it had taken a long time for his consulting room to warm up and he’d spent his time in between seeing patients sipping hot tea and leaning against the ancient radiators. What he really wanted, more than anything else, was to go home and take a long, hot shower and maybe not emerge until he could summon up the energy to get dry and fall into bed. Perhaps with a mug of cocoa?

But even a shower wasn’t on the night’s agenda, because it was his turn to be on call. Which meant a night trying to sleep fully dressed on his bed, ready to pull his shoes on if his pager sounded. Oh, and a coat, of course, with a scarf and a woolly hat and gloves. And hoping to hell that his old four-wheel drive started up.

‘Is she here? I didn’t know she was coming today?’

‘Well, she’s not here, exactly. She’s at the village hall, running a class.’

Olly raised his eyebrows, impressed. ‘She’s not been here five minutes. How is she running a class?’ What was she? Wonder Woman?

His father laughed. ‘When she came for her interview she put up flyers. Haven’t you seen them? Belly-dancing classes at the village hall? All ages, both sexes welcome.’

Olly smirked. ‘Belly dancing? She’ll be lucky if anyone turns up to that. The old dears round here consider knitting to be their only exercise, and the men their hanging baskets. Can’t imagine any of them shaking their wobbly bits in the village hall. Besides, it’s freezing.’

‘Well, I said we’d pop in, show our support, and it will give you two the opportunity to meet. You’ll be working together for a while—until I get a permanent replacement.’

There it was again. The harsh reminder that his father was leaving. That things were changing. That he had no say in it.

‘She doesn’t want to do it?’

He didn’t quite understand locums. Why travel from one place to another, never really staying anywhere, never getting to know people? Why didn’t they just put some roots down somewhere? He knew he’d hate it if it were him.

‘She’s not sure. But she wants to give the place a trial run.’

‘Shouldn’t we be the ones to offer her the trial run?’

Olly was quite territorial about their practice. It had been in the James family for some time. His own father, and Patrick’s father, Dermot, had run it before him. The fact that his father had sought a female locum also annoyed him. His father was probably trying to matchmake again. Find Olly a wife, who would then provide them all with the next line of doctors for the village of Atlee Wold.

‘We can but see. She’s a charming girl. I think you’ll like her,’ his father said, with a twinkle in his eyes that was obvious in its implication.

‘Dad, you’d make an awful Cupid.’

His father frowned in wry amusement, his brow furrowing into long lines across his weathered forehead. ‘Why?’

‘Because the wings wouldn’t suit you and I’m not sure I’d want to trust you with a bow and arrow.’

‘Don’t know what you mean. Besides, you’ve got no worries there, son. She won’t match any of the criteria on your “perfect wife” list.’

Olly laughed. Everyone joked about his list. Even if he didn’t. There was a serious point to it, after all. If a woman were to be his wife, then she’d need particular qualities. The wife of a country doctor had to have certain standards. Respectability, loyalty, charm, an inner beauty and a calm head on a solid pair of shoulders. Someone who could hold the fort and rear the children. Okay, it might make him seem a bit Victorian in his thinking, but what was wrong with wanting a dependable woman?

‘Good. I’d hate to think you were Cupid in disguise. Like I said, with your eyesight the arrows could end up anywhere.’

Patrick helped his son pack up, switch off all the lights and then make sure his call bag was stocked with anything he might need for the night. Then, despite the snow, despite the cold, and despite his tiredness, Patrick and Olly got into Olly’s four-wheel drive and set off for the village hall.

It really wasn’t very far. Less than a mile. But the snow was thick and still falling. The towns and busy roads in the cities might have grit and salt, but here in Atlee Wold, a Hampshire backwater, they seemed to be lacking everything except table salt from the village shop, which the locals had put out. Some had even put out kitty litter to grit their pathways. Those that were able to shovelled the pathways of those that weren’t.

Theirs was a strong community, where people helped each other out where they could. But Olly really hadn’t expected that there would be nowhere for him to park in the village hall car park! Or that the pathway would be so well trampled by the many feet that had passed that he could actually see the pavement.

Or that there’d be the beat and throb of loud exotic music clearly heard from some distance away.

‘Well, I’ll be …’

He parked his four-wheel drive by a tall hedge and when he pushed open his car door to get out it sent down a spray of snow on top of him. Some of it went down the back of his neck and top and he shivered as the icy crystals tickled his spine.

‘Ugh!’

Patrick laughed. ‘Looks like a full house.’

‘You don’t have to be so delighted.’

The village hall was lit along its gutters with old Christmas lights that hadn’t yet been taken down, and from the windows bright yellow light flared. There was the sound of Indian music, loud but muffled, emanating from the building itself, with an earthy beat.

Olly shook his head with disbelief. How had a complete stranger managed to rabble-rouse an entire village to do belly dancing? He might have expected the hall to be full if it was a gardening class or crochet, bingo or a knitting circle, but belly dancing?

Part of him just couldn’t wait to meet this Wonder Woman. An image of her was building in his head. She was a GP, so she had to be somewhat sensible. Someone middle-aged and quite strait-laced who did belly dancing because it was just something different? Perhaps she had to fight for attention and this was her way … As his father said, not a woman to threaten his list of the attributes a ‘perfect wife’ ought to have.

Belly-dancing instructor was nowhere on the list at all!

Shaking the snow from his shoulders, he entered the village hall after his father. There was a small foyer that they went into first, with a tuck shop to one side. Then there were two large rooms in the village hall and one was in darkness. From the other the music blared.

‘You ready?’ His father had to raise his voice to be heard.

‘Of course I am!’ he called back, pulling open the door.

But he stopped in his tracks when he saw the woman leading the class. His dad even bumped into him from behind.

Olly gaped open-mouthed at the new locum GP.

This is not what I expected.

She was petite—elfin, almost—with a graceful, slim, but womanly figure which he couldn’t help but notice due to her clothing. Or what there was of it. Her dark, almost black hair was cut short at the back, but at the front it was long and multicoloured—cyan blue, purple and pink streaks fell across her face. Her arms were layered with bangles and she had a red jewel in her belly button and she twirled and swirled and sashayed as she led the class in ‘undulation one’.

‘All right, Olly?’ his dad asked, staring at his son in amusement.

How can this woman be a GP? She doesn’t look like one.

But what was a GP supposed to look like? There was a shimmery wrap around her waist, tightly sheathing her perfectly curved bottom, and it tinkled and glimmered as she moved. Then, as she pointed her tiny feet, he noticed tattoos and nail polish and toe rings, before his eyes rose back up to her face to see large brown eyes, rosy cheeks and a cheeky smile.

Patrick leaned in closer to his son to whisper in his ear. ‘Close your mouth. You look like a hungry hippo.’

Olly did as he was told and swallowed hard. This wasn’t a GP. She looked like a pixie. An imp. Or a fairy. Yes, that was it—a fairy.

If she turns around I’ll see she’s got wings on her back.

But there were no wings. Just another tattoo. He couldn’t make out what it was from this distance …

And the hall was full! Here were people and patients that he knew well. People who suffered from arthritis and hip problems and knee problems. And here they all were, shaking their booty with the best of them, smiles plastered across their faces.

They must be off their meds.

Or their heads.

One of his patients, Mrs Macabee, noticed him from her position midway down the class. ‘Ooh, hello, Dr James! Fancy seeing you here! Are you joining us?’

He watched Mrs Macabee tilt her hip up and down, up and down. He blinked his head to clear the image, remembered what he was there for and then smiled politely. ‘Sorry, Mrs M, I don’t dance—and besides, I’m here on business.’ He had to raise his voice to be heard.

‘This is business?’ She laughed as she followed their new GP in her instructions.

He simply couldn’t believe it. Here was half the village, packing out the small hall—young and old, self-respect be damned, all kitted out with hip scarves and coin-edged skirts, shaking their backsides and waving their arms about.

The music was catchy, though, and he was unaware that his foot had been tapping to the beat until it suddenly stopped and everyone started clapping each other. Their new GP was thanking everyone for coming … patting herself down with a soft, pink towel.

There were lots of people fighting over each other to go to her and thank her for so much fun, the best time they’d had in ages, et cetera, et cetera.

Olly pursed his lips as he waited for everyone to file out after handing back their belly-dancing garb. He nodded hello at a lot of them.

His father looked bemused. ‘Why are you smiling so much?’ he asked his old man.

‘It’s the look on your face.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’

Patrick laughed. ‘What’s right with it? You look like you’ve been sucking lemons.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

His father was being silly. Of course he didn’t look that way. Why would he? That would imply that he was jealous of this woman or something, wouldn’t it? And he had nothing to be jealous of! So she’d got the village out to an exercise class … So what?

The pixie came over, towelling her face dry. ‘Hi!’

She was still full of energy, it seemed, and appeared quite happy with the way the class had gone.

His father stepped forward to make the introductions. ‘Lula—this is my son, Oliver. Olly, this is Dr Lula Chance.’

He held out his hand to shake hers, aware of how much the bangles jingled as he did so. ‘Lula? That’s an odd name—where’s that from?’

‘It’s short for Louise. I prefer Lula. Like hula.’

He looked at her bare slim waist and womanly curves. ‘And do you?’ he asked, dragging his eyes back up to her face.

‘Do I what?’

He swallowed hard. ‘Hula?’

She beamed a dazzling smile in his direction and it was like being smacked in the gut.

‘I’ve been known to.’

She was patting her chest with the towel, attracting the attention of his gaze, and he had to fight really hard to keep his eyes on her face.

‘So you’re the guy with the list?’

Olly’s cheeks coloured—and not from the cold. ‘I am. Nothing’s private here, it would seem. Welcome to village life.’

Patrick laughed and laid a hand on Lula’s shoulder. ‘Well done, Lula! Getting everyone out like that! Your class seemed a success!’

She nodded, her blue, purple and pink fringe quivering around her face. ‘I hope so. The first class was free, to get people interested. The real test is in seeing if they come back and pay for it.’

‘The real test is making sure none of them have a heart attack. Have you got oxygen on standby?’ Olly asked.

Patrick laughed at his son. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now—to business. Have you moved in yet?’

‘My boxes are in the car. You’ve got the key to the cottage?’

Olly looked up, his sulk gone. ‘Which cottage?’

She frowned. ‘Erm … Moonrose Cottage, I think it’s called. Is that right, Patrick?’

Patrick? She’s calling him Patrick? What happened to Dr James?

‘Moonrose? You’re moving into Gran’s old cottage?’

His father looked at him sternly. ‘Yes, she is—and you’re going to help her.’ He handed over the key.

His dad knew how he felt about Moonrose Cottage! It might be his gran’s old place, but it was also where his own mother had grown up. The place had special memories. If they let it out to this pixie then God only knew what she’d fill it with. Parties, or raves, or something equally mad. Moonrose was a quiet, sedate house. Charming and conservative and quintessentially English.

‘But I’m on call.’

‘And Lula, here, has offered to be on call with you whilst you help her unpack.’ He grinned. ‘Isn’t that kind of her?’

Olly looked at Lula and raised an eyebrow at those large brown eyes twinkling madly at him and doing weird things to his stomach and other body parts.

‘It is. Thank you, Lula. Though you must be tired—travelling, running a dance class, moving in, going on call?’

‘I like to pack a lot into life.’ She dabbed at her chest with the towel and again he had to concentrate really hard not to look.

‘You don’t say?’

Patrick stepped away. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Olly, I’ll walk back home—it’s not far. You go on with Lula and I’ll see you both in the morning.’

He shook Lula’s hand and then waved goodbye and stepped out, leaving Olly and Lula alone.

Olly felt uncomfortable. There were no women like Lula in Atlee Wold. Vivid and bright and crazy and …

And what?

‘So, Moonrose Cottage, eh?’ He stared at her hair. So many colours … like a rainbow.

‘Yeah … Strange name, I thought.’

‘It’s after the Blue Moon roses my gran planted when she was a little girl. They’re all around it and they won prizes in the village show. If you’re still here in summer you’ll see them in bloom. They’re quite beautiful.’

She smiled. ‘I’m sure they are.’

‘So, shall I give you a hand to pack all this bling away?’ He pointed at the box full of coin-edged skirts and multicoloured scarves she’d given to his patients.

Lula laughed. ‘Thanks. It is a lot of bling. The hall warden said I could store it below the stage.’

‘Okay.’

He helped her lift a large bag through the stage door opening. They were about to leave when Lula pointed out a couple of boxes covered by thick blankets.

‘Could you help me take those out? They’re mine. I couldn’t leave them in the car.’

Olly nodded and hefted the two boxes one on top of the other, hearing metal clank inside. Then they left the village hall, pulling the door closed after switching off the lights.

Outside, the snow was lit by the fairy lights, so it blinked softly in reds and blues, yellows and greens. It was really quite pretty, and had the effect of making Lula look even more multicoloured than she had been before. Like a peacock.

Definitely a magical fairy.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He blinked. ‘Sorry?’

‘You were staring. At me.’ She grinned.

Olly licked his lips, thinking quickly. ‘Ah, right … yes. Erm … I was just wondering where you’d parked your car? I don’t see one.’

She pointed, her hand seeming to twinkle in the lights as they reflected off her rings and bangles. ‘I parked down the road. I wanted the patients to be able to park close.’

‘That’s kind.’

She accepted the compliment. ‘Thank you. I try to be. So …?’

‘So …?’

‘Will you drive in front? Show me where the cottage is?’

Of course! Idiot! Stupid!

‘Sure. But let’s make sure your car starts first.’

‘Oh, she always does.’

‘She?’

‘Betsy.’

‘Your car is called Betsy?’

‘Betsy the Bug.’ She stopped in front of a red car with large black polka dots on it, like a ladybird.

Once again Olly was left standing mute and blinking. After a moment he managed, ‘Cute.’

‘I think so. Here—why don’t you put that large one in the front? This small one can go in the boot.’

Her engine rumbled into life straight away and he pointed out his four-wheel drive, further up the road. Lula said that she’d wait for him and he walked back up to his car, his boots crunching in the snow, muttering to himself.

‘Dad, I’m going to kill you … What on earth have you done?’

As a choice of locum she was a tad … out there. Not the sort of locum he’d expected his father to hire. There had to have been plenty of other doctors he might have chosen from. Sensible, sedate people. The type to blend in with village life.

Not this firecracker …

His four-wheel drive started first time and he indicated to pull out, noticing her following him through the high street. He took a left and kept looking in his rearview mirror to make sure she was still there. Still following.

He thought of his ‘perfect wife’ list.

She didn’t match any of the items on it.

But he felt mysteriously intrigued by her.

Bewitching. That’s what she is.

Lula followed Olly through the village roads, realizing she’d made a big mistake. When she’d come for her interview with Patrick, she’d known she was getting involved with a father-and-son team and that had seemed fine. But Patrick was a silver-haired fox, with sparkling, kind eyes, and she should have just known that the son was going to be drop-dead gorgeous. However, she hadn’t worried too much about it. She’d concentrated much more on her other reason for coming to Atlee Wold and assumed that Patrick’s son would be just another person to work with.

But when he’d walked into that village hall … It had been as if a film star had walked in. She’d half expected to see paparazzi following him in. Gorgeous and sexy, yet a down-to-earth guy. She’d tried to ignore him so that she could carry on with her class. She’d even stumbled over her steps. But thankfully no one had seemed to notice.

And now she was following him. Through the snowy streets. In Betsy. Following his old jalopy.

Olly had pulled up outside a small thatched cottage surrounded by tall briar wood. It looked pretty, and she could only imagine how gorgeous it might look in the summertime, with its white walls and blue roses, butterflies and bees flitting about the place. There was an arched trellis over the front door, with what looked like an ancient Russian vine growing over it.

It really wasn’t that far from the GP surgery, or the village hall, and she hoped that tomorrow she could try walking in to work. She had a pair of wellies somewhere in one of the boxes she already had in the car. A small removals lorry would drop off her other stuff tomorrow.

He stood back so she could make fresh tracks in the snow to the front door, and then he passed her a key.

Smiling, she took it and tried to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry—I’ll look after the place.’

‘I’m sure you will. Shall we get the lights on, the fire burning and then get your boxes in?’

Lula nodded. ‘Sounds great.’ Though it might be a bit awkward, the two of them alone before a roaring fire …

The key turned easily and she pushed open the door, wondering what to expect. Patrick had agreed to let the cottage out to her at a reduced rate and the price was very reasonable. She certainly wouldn’t be able to get a place in London at the rate he’d given her—not even a bedsit! And here she was with the key to a beautiful, thatched, two-bedroom cottage.

Inside, she found the light switches and gasped in delight. The low roof created an immediate intimacy in the small rooms. The lounge furniture was covered in white sheets, but when she removed them she found old, chintzy chairs, with scatter cushions made from patchwork, and an old green leather sofa. The walls were whitewashed, with exposed dark beams, and there was a good-sized fireplace already stacked with logs.

‘Shall I start the fire for you?’ Olly said.

Lula smiled. ‘That’s okay. I can do it. Why don’t you get me those boxes from Betsy?’

He nodded, but she could tell he would have been a lot happier playing with the fire.

Typical man.

She liked Olly already. He was charming and old-fashioned and very English. He had classic good looks, with dark blond hair and bright blue eyes like Chris Hems-worth. Just my type. But, despite the handsome looks and the knockout body, she hoped she didn’t have to worry about there being an attraction between them whilst they worked. It wasn’t the sort of thing she was looking for. Not here. There were other reasons for her being in Atlee Wold and romance wasn’t one of them.

The firelighters worked quickly and Lula soon had a bright orange flame licking at the wood. There was a stack of old newspapers to one side, and she screwed up a few and inserted them into gaps in the wood to help it. Soon the crackling flames had taken hold and the fire began to build. She stood warming her hands as Olly came barging in, carrying the larger of her two blanketed boxes.

‘What’s in this thing?’

She took it from him, looked around and saw a table in the corner that looked suitable. Setting the box down, she freed the blanket and whipped it off. ‘Say hello to Nefertiti and Cleo!’

She saw him take a step back, his mouth open in shock and horror. ‘Are they … rats?’

Lula grinned and bit her lip as she stooped down to open the door of the cage and both rats—one dark brown and one pure white with pink eyes—climbed out onto her hands and ran up her arm to sit on her shoulder. ‘Dumbo rats. Aren’t they beautiful?’

He looked carefully at her, as if judging her sanity. ‘They’re rats.’

‘They’re very intelligent animals.’

‘So are dolphins, but you don’t have two of those, do you?’ He watched the rats play around under the dark wisps of Lula’s hair, their noses and whiskers twitching. Then he had a sudden dreadful thought. ‘What’s in the other box? The one in the boot of your car?’

Lula grinned. ‘Anubis. You’d better get him—he’s on a heat pad especially.’

Olly put his hands on his hips. ‘What is Anubis?’

She tilted her head to one side, amused by his reaction. ‘I’ll get him. Here.’

She reached up and took hold of the two rats from under her hair and planted them on his shoulder. She could see how he froze and winced and twitched at each of their movements as they gave him a good sniff. Their little pink noses and whiskers tickled his ears.

Olly stood frozen, as if rigor mortis had set in. ‘Please hurry.’

Lula chuckled, threw her jacket on and rushed out into the snow. Pretty soon she came back with the smaller blanketed box and put it on the coffee table. There was a cable and plug for this one, and when she pressed the wall switch a small light came on inside the blanket.

Olly stood awkwardly with the two rats running about his shoulders. ‘Could you take these?’

Lula laughed. He looked so funny standing there, with his shoulders all hunched up by his ears and two rats perched on his shoulder, trying to sniff the hair on his head. She scooped them up easily and placed them back in their cage.

Olly let out a big breath and then brushed off his shoulders. ‘Thanks. So, Anubis … what is he?’

She looked at him slightly askance. ‘He’s my big challenge.’

‘Challenge? Why?’

‘Because I’m scared to death of him, and as I’m determined to beat all my fears I’ve borrowed him from a friend until I get over that fear.’

Olly gave a single nod. ‘And that fear is called …?’ Though he had a suspicion.

Lula removed the blanket. ‘Arachnophobia.’

In the small tank, amongst some wood and soil, was a large, very dark, very hairy, red-kneed tarantula.

He peered closer. ‘It’s bigger than my hand.’

‘Isn’t he a beauty?’

‘I thought you were scared?’

‘I am. But I can still appreciate how gorgeous he is.’

‘And it’s your aim in life to pick this thing up?’

She nodded. ‘One of my aims. Eventually.’

Olly shook his head. ‘You’re madder than a boxful of circus clowns.’

They both laughed, but then Lula shivered and headed over to the fire and stood with her back to it, hands stretched out behind her. ‘Freezing!’

‘Shall I get the rest of the boxes?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind?’

‘It depends … Are there any more zoo creatures in Betsy?’

Lula smiled. ‘Just woolly jumpers.’

‘Safe enough. Though you might have warned me earlier that I was handling livestock.’

They’d unloaded all the boxes, and Lula had put her clothes away and freshened up, when Olly’s phone rang. The out-of-hours doctor service informed him that one of his older patients in the area was suffering from chest pains. Could he go?

‘It’s Mr Maynard. He lives out on one of the farms. We’ll take my car.’

Lula nodded. It would be best to start with, until she got to know her way around—where the best roads were, what shortcuts there were. And this was a good way to meet some of the patients who couldn’t make it into the surgery for various reasons. She was particularly drawn to find all of those patients who tried to keep themselves hidden away and make sure she saw everyone.

As Olly drove he filled her in on Mr Maynard.

‘He’s eighty-two years old and lives alone. His farm was a dairy once, but he never married or had kids and during the nineties everything just fell to pieces. He had to sell his herd and now he lives in the farmhouse alone.’

Lula thought it sounded a very lonely existence. ‘How does he get out and about?’

‘He doesn’t. His arthritis is bad, so he doesn’t drive. Molly from the village shop goes up twice a week with his shopping and drops it into his kitchen. He generally looks after himself.’

‘Any other health conditions I ought to know about?’

‘He’s got high blood pressure, but he’s on medication for that.’

‘Ramipril?’

Olly nodded. ‘And a diuretic.’

The diuretic had been included to help reduce fluid in the body. The more fluid there was to be transported in thin arteries, the higher the blood pressure, so a diuretic helped to reduce fluid build-up.

Driving through the village at night was quite surreal. Everywhere was covered in snow, and yellow lamplight lit the way every thirty yards or so, until eventually they hit the outskirts of the village and the lamplight disappeared. They had to rely on the four-wheel drive’s headlights, and with thick snow still falling it was very slow going.

Lula wondered how on earth Molly at the shop would even get to Mr Maynard’s farm with the ground covered like this. Did she have a four-wheel drive?

A sign appeared—’Burner’s Farm’—and Olly turned into its driveway. They were bumped and jostled along as he drove down the pitted road and eventually an old stone farmhouse appeared, surrounded by old barns and outbuildings in a crumbling state of decay. It was hard to see the property’s true state at night, but Lula could see that there were sections of roof missing from the barn due to the snowfall, and that all the old machinery was decaying from lack of use.

Alighting from the car, Olly grabbed his bag and he and Lula trudged through the snow to the farmhouse door. Olly banged on it quite hard, before pushing it open and calling out. ‘Mr Maynard? Donald? It’s Dr James and Dr Chance.’

‘In here,’ a croaky voice called back.

The hallway was dark, but at the end of it was a brightly lit room from which warmth poured. Lula was glad he had a coal fire on the go, and was keeping warm at least. Their patient was sitting in a chair with blankets round him, and at his side were the remains of a hot dinner and a glass of red wine.

‘Donald? This is Dr Chance—she’s new at the surgery. How are you?’

Mr Maynard peered past Olly at her and beamed in a giant smile. ‘Well, hello, dear, and what a pretty little thing you are!’

‘Hello, Mr Maynard. How are you doing?’ She sat down beside him, instantly taking in whatever information she could—the colour of his skin, whether or not he seemed clammy, his respiratory rate—but he looked good. He was a healthy colour, not out of breath and with no signs of sweating.

‘I’m all right now. They just panic at the other end of the phone, don’t they?’

She felt sure he was referring to the people who manned the out-of-hours doctor service. She herself didn’t think they panicked, but they had to respond urgently if a patient mentioned chest pains. It could be life-threatening.

‘What made you call in tonight?’

‘Well, my chest was hurting, my dear, and when you’re all alone you convince yourself you’re about to kick the bucket at any moment so I rang up. But I had a damned good belch and felt a lot better. Just indigestion, I think—all stuff and nonsense. No need for you to have come out and checked on me.’

She shook her head, smiling, and patted the back of his hand. ‘There’s every need to check on you. Now, while we’re here, let’s check your blood pressure and pulse—is that okay?’

He let them do their tests, and he seemed quite well. His blood pressure was in the normal range for him and his pulse rate was steady and strong. He had no pain, and they could see that he’d eaten a particularly strong curry, so perhaps he was right and it was just indigestion he’d experienced.

‘You’re on your own out here, Mr Maynard?’ Lula asked.

‘Call me Donald, dear.’

‘Donald.’ She smiled.

‘I am. Been this way for years—lost my Teddy eight years back.’

‘Teddy?’

‘The dog,’ Olly said. ‘Gorgeous Border collie, he was.’

‘That he was,’ said Donald.

‘Don’t you miss getting out and about, Donald? You must get bored, being here in these four walls all the time?’

‘I do … but what am I going to do? I don’t like bingo, and I don’t like going down the pub—it’s not my thing. I like a bit of culture, me, and there ain’t no culture in Atlee Wold.’

Lula nodded in understanding. ‘You like wine?’ She pointed at his glass.

‘Only the good stuff!’ He chuckled.

‘Well, you leave it with me, Donald. Let me see what I can arrange.’

When they got back in the car Olly looked at her questioningly. ‘What are you planning?’

‘I know someone who knows someone else. I think we can get Mr Maynard out and about and enjoying life again. Why should he be stuck at that farm with just memories? There’s life in the old dog yet.’

He smiled. ‘He seemed to like you.’

‘He’s a nice guy.’

‘He is a nice guy. But I’ve been trying to get him involved with village life for years and he’s never budged from that chair.’

She smiled mysteriously. ‘Perhaps he needs something more than just this village? Never underestimate the power of a good woman.’

He looked at her askance. What was wrong with ‘just’ the village?

Perhaps she bewitches her patients, too.

The next morning Lula telephoned a colleague’s friend in Petersfield, who ran coach holidays, and told him about Donald Maynard. After a quick discussion they found a trip for Donald that they thought would suit him down to the ground. It was a tour of wineries in the Loire region of France, over three days, stopping off at some lovely B & Bs along the way and all at a greatly reduced price.

Lula rang Mr Maynard and asked him if he could be ready in a week’s time to catch a bus, if it collected him from the end of his driveway.

Donald was thrilled. ‘Chuffed to mint balls’ was his expression, and he couldn’t thank Lula enough. She put the phone down at her end, feeling delighted that she’d been able to help a wonderful old man who deserved to enjoy life, despite his years.

She got herself ready for work. Determined to walk to the surgery, she rooted around for her wellies. With her woolly hat and scarf on, she was ready to go, and she opened her door, expecting to set straight off. She wanted to make a good impression on her very first day at the surgery.

But someone had left a cardboard box on her doorstep.

And inside something was crying.