Sad Day In PB

(More news will follow shortly about a series of workshops I am to do at a big book festival... all very interesting and exciting.)

THE INDECISION OF DOCTOR KERR

Doctor Kerr visited twice. The second time he was accompanied by Marjory. He looked worried after the first call at old Tom’s house. Gave instructions to the minister to phone if things got any worse. Said the same thing to Lillian.

Back at his desk in the surgery after that first visit, he made a note in Tom’s medical records. The old man’s breathing was more laboured. His pulse was racing and he was falling in and out of sleep. Doctor Kerr’s hand was shaking as he wrote. More than usual, he noticed. He sat back in his chair and bit on the end of his pen. He felt uneasy. He should be doing more, he thought.

When Marjory came in with a cup of tea, he was lost in thought. She seemed to know what was in his head. She suggested that maybe it was time to phone the hospital. That was what had occasioned the second visit to old Tom’s, Marjory carrying his black leather Gladstone bag and Doctor Kerr looking serious and concerned.

Old Tom was no better. Marjory passed the stethoscope to Doctor Kerr and opened the buttons on old Tom’s pyjama shirt. She took old Tom’s wrist and counted his pulse against the second hand of her nurse’s watch pinned to her jacket. They consulted together in whispers and the minister saw them come to some sort of agreement.

Doctor Kerr asked if Lillian knew where the phone was. Then Marjory made the call.

Lillian packed a small bag of essentials: toothbrush and clean pyjamas and old Tom’s slippers. She knew that he would not be up and about in the hospital but packing the slippers seemed somehow hopeful, as if it could happen. She also slipped a letter into the bag, one of the letters from Tom’s daughter, Angela, and a black and white picture of her when she was a girl at the school.

‘Someone should be with him,’ said Doctor Kerr, expecting that Lillian would offer.

‘It’s the least I can do,’ said the minister quickly. He picked up a pack of cards from the bedside table and slipped them into his pocket. There was something hopeful in that, too.

The ambulance came within the hour. It came in silence and no blue lights flashing. Still it drew the attention of villagers in the street. They collected in small knots of concern and conjecture. Guthrie and Eileen came out onto the road to see what was about. Christine came out too, and Evelyn. Morag stood at the door with her scissors and her comb in her hand and asking again and again who it was. Men from 'The Ship' came out, too, and hid the bottles they were drinking from behind their backs in case respect was called for. And Callum from the bakery; and Struan Courtald in his waistcoat with the buttons done up, though he tried not to stare; and Athol Stuart, all the while looking to see where Mad Martin might be.

There was not much to see when Old Tom was carried out to the street, strapped to a stretcher and with an oxygen mask over the bottom half of his face. The minister climbed into the ambulance beside Tom.

Mr Struan Courtald did not think the minister being there was a good thing. There were others in the street who had the same thought.

The doors of the ambulance closed and it moved quietly back the way it had come. Marjory stood with her arm around the shoulders of Lillian and together the watched it leave, watched it till it could no more be seen and the street had emptied in front of them. Doctor Kerr stayed inside the house. He was looking for his stick. He was sure it should be with his bag. Maybe he'dleft it at the door. Maybe he hadn't brought it this time. He wasn't sure.