her cloth into the bucket, ran to the landing and called down to Lucy, who quickly made her way upstairs, brushed her hair and sat nervously on the edge of the bed, waiting to greet him.
Though deep down she knew it was unfair, Lucy harboured a certain distrust of doctors. It had started when Barney fell ill and they could do nothing to help him. To Lucy’s mind, doctors were all the same – authoritative and full of good advice, but as yet they had not managed to instil any degree of confidence in her. There was one exception and that was Dr Raymond Lucas, from her old home outside Liverpool. He had been a true and trusted friend, and even now Lucy valued his letters and friendship.
Interrupting her thoughts, the knock sounded on the door for the second time. ‘Come in.’ Like a rebellious child, Lucy remained seated.
The door inched open and a smiling face peeped in at her; with his cheeky grin and that ridiculous cap of thick brown hair, the doctor looked far younger than his early thirties. ‘Am I all right to come in?’ he asked gingerly. ‘Or am I likely to get my head chopped off at dawn?’ He knew Lucy well by now, and was aware that his visits were unpopular.
Lucy laughed and the atmosphere eased. ‘I’m not that much of an ogre, am I?’ she asked, shame-facedly.
‘There are those who might argue the point.’ Straightening his shoulders, he pushed open the door and sauntered in.
Lucy asked him pointedly, ‘You’re not about to put me through the grinder, are you?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do whatever’s necessary to satisfy myself that you haven’t been overdoing it.’ He peeked at her with suspicion. ‘And have you?’
‘What?’
‘Been overdoing it?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Lucy hoped he would leave before coming into contact with Elsie, who was certain to have her say on the matter.
‘Mmm.’ Slowly nodding his head, he made that peculiar sound that some doctors make when they’re not quite sure what to say. ‘Mmm … ah.’
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’ He ventured forward. ‘And if I don’t believe you, it’s no one’s fault but your own.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean, I need you to be honest, but sometimes you tell me one thing and do another. How am I supposed to know if you’re following my instructions when you won’t tell me the truth?’
‘Huh!’ Lucy couldn’t help but like him. ‘So now I’m a liar, am I?’
Fearing he might have got on the wrong side of her, he suggested meekly, ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, that is not what I meant at all. Perhaps we should forget the conversation so far and start again, what do you think?’
Lucy smiled her sweetest. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’
With a twinkle in his eye, he made the smallest bow and to Lucy’s amusement, greeted her with a bright, ‘Good morning, Mrs Davidson.’
‘Good morning, Doctor Nolan.’ Bright as a button, Lucy’s quick smile betrayed her enjoyment. ‘How very nice to see you,’ she lied beautifully.
Placing the big black bag on the bedside table, Dr Nolan opened it and took out his stethoscope. ‘And how are you today?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Doctor.’ Unbuttoning the top of her blouse, Lucy prepared herself for the shock of the cold stethoscope against her skin.
‘Have you anything to report?’ he asked gently.
‘No, nothing.’ Sensing the game was over she replied in serious tone, ‘Everything is just the same as it was the last time you were here.’ She was determined not to reveal how her arm still hurt like the devil after trying to shift that heavy cleaner out of the cupboard, for which Elsie had rightfully given her a scolding.
‘So, no aches or pains then?’ He proceeded to examine her, discreetly ignoring Lucy’s visible shudder as the cold receptacle pressed against the flat of her chest.
Lucy shook her head. ‘No more than usual,’ she answered. ‘There are times when my joints feel as though they’ve locked together, and other times when I feel I can carry the world.’
‘No change there then?’ he said, concentrating now on the job in hand of checking her blood pressure.
‘Not really, no.’ She laughed out loud. ‘I was flattered this morning when Elsie accused me of being ambitious enough to take down curtains, and clean all the windows.’ She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Those days are long gone, more’s the pity.’
Lucy remembered the time when she could throw a pitchfork of hay on top of a wagon, or carry an injured lamb on her shoulders, but that was in another life. If she could bring it all back, she would. But it was gone, all but in her sorry heart.
A few moments later, after a thorough examination, the doctor put away his instruments and closed the bag. ‘It seems you’re no better and no worse, so you must be following my instructions after all.’
Lucy smiled triumphantly. ‘Isn’t that what I told you, Doctor?’
‘So it is,’ he replied. ‘So it is – but you need to remember you’re not the young woman you once were and your joints aren’t quite so flexible. I’m not saying you can’t do certain things – of course you can – but you must take care not to aggravate your condition. And that includes getting all hot and bothered about things.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Good.’ He wrote out a prescription. ‘Your blood pressure is slightly up. Take one of these each morning, and an hour’s rest in the afternoon. Right?’
‘Whatever you say. You’re the doctor.’
‘I’ll call again in a few days to check your blood pressure, just to be sure.’
Glad that the examination was over, Lucy relaxed. ‘Are you ready for tea and biscuits?’
‘Need you ask?’ It had become a ritual; a bit of a banter, then the examination, before tea and biscuits. He had come to look forward to it. ‘That’s the main reason I come to visit,’ the young man teased. He picked up his black bag. ‘A few quiet moments in that delightful kitchen of yours sets me up for the day.’
Inching herself off the bed, Lucy slipped her shoes on. ‘You haven’t forgotten how I like mine, have you?’
He shook his head. ‘Strong, with a little milk and two sugars.’
‘That’s it.’ She waved him away with a gesture. ‘Off you go then. You make your way down, and I’ll follow on.’
By the time Lucy arrived in the kitchen, the doctor was pouring out two cups of tea and had got out a plate of Elsie’s home-baked shortbread. ‘I can’t stay long,’ he told Lucy. ‘I must check on Maggie Craig; she’s not too far away from giving birth.’
Lucy tut-tutted. ‘That’s her eighth in as many years. If you ask me, it’s not Maggie as wants checking on, it’s her old man. Quickest way to help Maggie and cut your work down into the bargain, is to chop it off for him. That’ll give everyone a rest, won’t it?’
The doctor laughed. ‘It’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘He’s a selfish bugger, though. If it was him having the babies, he wouldn’t be so quick to make them.’
She thought of her dead son, little Jamie, drowned these past twenty years or more, and her heart was sore. ‘Mind you,’ she went on in a softer voice, ‘there is nothing more magical than holding a child in your arms.’
The doctor looked up to see the sadness in her eyes; he had seen it before and had been curious.