Busman's Holiday by Andrews Lucilla

Author:Andrews, Lucilla [Andrews, Lucilla]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: hospital fiction, medical romance, doctors and nurses, hospital romance, nursing stories, nursing fiction, nurse fiction
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Medical Romance)
Published: 2019-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

During the next three weeks I often saw David taking that cobbled path on his free evenings. For several days after Aunt Joey’s accident, those were the only glimpses I had of him. Aunt Joey’s arm was now in a temporary plaster and he called daily to see her, but as he always ‘just happened’ to mention the approximate time of his next visit, I took the hint and kept out of his way.

At first Aunt Joey queried, ‘Why not walk Psmith later, dear?’ Very shortly and without my having to explain one word, that became, ‘Good idea not to waste this sun, particularly as the long-range forecast for August is so poor’.

A couple of mornings after her return from hospital, she was writing letters in the sitting-room and I was making our elevenses, when Psmith’s ‘’Ware! Stranger!’ bark, preceded an unusually determined ring at our front door bell. I switched off the kettle, hurried into the hall and opened the door to the great surgeon who was Helen Vintner’s father.

Had I come face to face with the famous Sir Martin Blake on-duty, I would have been instantly reduced to a nervous jelly. I couldn’t feel nervous of the neat, retired gentleman in comfortable tweeds carrying a huge bundle of dahlias. He was just the very nice ‘Mr. Blake’ I had met in his own garden and though his stern, weathered face under his magnificent head of white-grey hair was unsmiling, his deep-set hazel eyes had a very kindly twinkle.

I beamed. ‘Hallo, Mr. Blake! How are you ‒ oh my goodness! I know now that I should’ve said, Sir Martin!’

That produced his rare and enchanting smile. ‘My dear young lady, I assure you I am infinitely more accustomed to ‒ and between ourselves have a nostalgic preference for ‒ the “Mister”. Well, well! Having a busman’s holiday, I hear! Tch. Tch. Tch.’ He clicked his teeth with his tongue. ‘Tiresome fracture, a Colles. And how is your patient?’

‘Doing very well, thank you. Won’t you come in and meet my aunt?’

He hesitated, ‘I would be honoured to do so, but possibly this is an inconvenient moment? Is Miss Allendale resting?’

My beam widened. ‘It takes more than one arm in a temporary plaster and sling to make my aunt rest in mid-morning! She’s writing letters with her good right hand and I was about to make coffee. Won’t you join us?’ He bowed and stepped into the hall still clutching the dahlias. ‘Would you like to put down your flowers?’

‘Flowers? Bless my soul! Slipped my mind!’ He handed me the bunch. ‘I cut them for you early this morning. They’ll enjoy another drink, now.’

I thanked him warmly and took him to meet Aunt Joey. She was very polite, but as always when meeting with a contemporary for the first time, she immediately retreated into a quiet shell of shyness. Sir Martin was equally polite and quiet and much more formal than with me alone. I had to do all the talking during what must have seemed to us all an endless half-hour.

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