A Kind of Magic. Бетти Нилс

Fetch in some more peat, Robert, will you? The fire’ll need banking for the night.’

      ‘Woman, it’s but five o’clock.’

      ‘And a long night ahead of us, Robert.’

      ‘Stay here, will you?’ asked Dr Cameron as Rosie reached the bedroom. ‘I’ve some phoning to do. No need to do anything, but give a yell if he comes round.’

      She sat down close to the bed, her eyes glued to her uncle’s unconscious face. It was quiet in the room save for his slow breaths, so quiet that she had to strain her ears to hear them. It seemed an age before the doctor came soft-footed through the half-open door. He said nothing, checked his patient’s pulse once more, and then sat down on the other side of the bed.

      Presently he looked across at her.

      ‘Go down and get those wet things off; your Mrs MacFee is seething with anxiety for fear you will catch cold. Then come back here—I might need you.’

      He could have been giving orders to a nurse on a hospital ward. Polite, impersonal, and quite sure he would be obeyed.

      She did as she was told, and didn’t say a word. In the kitchen she was given a scalding cup of tea, and was told to go up the back stairs to Mrs MacFee’s room, strip off her clothes, and put on the dressing-gown she would find behind the door. It was a voluminous garment, very woolly, and she wrapped it around her person with a sigh of relief as Mrs MacFee came trotting in with her tights.

      ‘You put these on, my lass, and button up that gown all the way down. Come and sit in the kitchen by the fire—your things will dry in no time.’

      ‘I’m to go back upstairs,’ Rosie insisted.

      ‘Like that? Whatever next…?’

      ‘He’s a doctor, Mrs MacFee,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s concerned with Uncle Donald—I could be there with nothing on at all and he wouldn’t notice!’

      She gave the elderly cheek a quick kiss, nipped through the upstairs passages, and slid into the room without a word.

      If the doctor noticed her appearance he gave no sign. ‘He is regaining consciousness. Sit where he can see you.’

      So she sat close to the bed again, and sure enough her uncle’s eyelids soon fluttered and opened. He closed them again at once, and then after a minute opened them again. ‘Rosie?’ His voice was a thread of sound.

      ‘Yes, Uncle.’

      ‘Strange you’re here—I’ve been thinking about you…your father…’ He closed his eyes again, and she looked at the doctor, who looked calmly back at her and didn’t speak.

      ‘Never liked me much, did you?’ went on the weary voice. ‘Kicked me when I beat that dog. Sorry about that. So long ago. I’ve been a fool.’

      Rosie took one of his hands in hers. ‘That’s all over and done with, Uncle… The doctor’s here, you were taken ill.’

      The tired face turned slowly on the pillow. ‘Don’t know you. Married to Rosie, are you?’

      Dr Cameron looked faintly amused. ‘Indeed not. Your own doctor was out on a case, and I got your housekeeper’s message on the car phone. Dr Douglas will be with us very shortly and it is to be hoped that you can be taken to hospital in Oban as soon as you are fit enough to move.’