Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Jack certainly wasn’t getting preferential treatment, he mused, as he peeled off his filthy overalls at the back door, wincing at the distinct pong of cow manure.
At the moment he was getting all the on-call night shifts, but he couldn’t complain, it was work and he was single.
Devon and his dad had lives and partners to go home to.
He stumbled into the big farmhouse kitchen, scratching at his stubble as he glanced at the clock.
Half-past seven. Having been on-call last night, attending an emergency at midnight followed by another visit at five o’clock this morning, all he wanted to do was fall into bed and grab a couple of hours’ kip before having to start work at eleven.
Although a cup of coffee and a piece of toast first wouldn’t come amiss.
‘Morning, darling,’ said his mother. ‘A late one?’
‘Yes, I’m just back,’ he said blinking at her with bleary eyes. So much for having no job at the practice. Jane had now gone down with pneumonia and he was covering for her, plus doing the extra work created by Devon doing all his farm visits. He didn’t think he’d ever been so tired in his life.
‘I’ve received the most annoying news. Gillian Coster has double-booked herself.’
Jack nodded, knowing he was expected to know who Gillian Coster was.
His mother had an army of volunteers at her disposal for a host of projects – meals on wheels, hospital transport, library-book distribution runs – as well as running the WI and heading the village hall roof fundraising committee.
She always had her finger in a dozen pies at any one time.
‘I’m not sure what I’m going to do.’ She picked up the slice of toast he’d removed from the toaster and took an absent-minded bite. ‘I can get Freya Wilson to take Mrs Doubleday at midday but that means Doris is going to have to wait a few hours.’
‘Is any of this supposed to make sense to me? I’m brain dead after being up all night.’
She looked up at him, her eyes clearing. ‘Sorry, darling. Thinking out loud. I’m in a bit of a pickle this morning. Doris had an accident yesterday. She’s at Stoke Mandeville, but I’ve had a call that she’s being discharged right now. I had Gillian on standby because I thought this might happen.’
‘Right.’ His mother’s brain always ran at warp speed, although he was never sure if she really expected the rest of the family to keep up.
They’d all become adept at non-specific, non-committal responses to tide them over.
‘And what’s wrong with Doris?’ He couldn’t imagine her being ill.
The older woman always struck him as bombproof and was often Audrey’s chief partner in crime.
Despite a twenty-year age gap, the two of them were double trouble.
‘Silly old fool fell off a step ladder and broke her leg,’ said Audrey angrily. ‘I told her to be careful. She thinks she’s invincible and she’s not.’
Jack put an arm around his mother. Audrey only got angry when she was upset.
‘Is she all right?’
‘No, she’s not. She’s going to be in a cast for six weeks and that selfish son of hers won’t lift a finger. He makes me so cross. He’s lucky to have her. And there isn’t anyone to pick her up today until after four o’clock. She’s all on her own.’ Tears of frustration welled in his mother’s eyes.
He pulled her into a hug. ‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll go and get Doris.’ He spoke through an enormous yawn.
‘Are you sure, darling? You do look a bit grim.’
Jack ran a hand across his gritty eyes. ‘Give me all the details and I’ll head off straight away.’
‘Oh, thanks, Jack. That’s wonderful.’
* * *
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Doris, her mouth pinched tight, sitting in the hospital waiting room.
For once she looked all of her eighty years, hunched in a wheelchair and clutching her handbag to her chest; one of her scrawny legs, encased in a black cast (only Doris would choose black), propped up in front of her.
‘I’m your transport today,’ said Jack, glad that he’d come as much to take the worry from his mum’s face as to help Doris. She looked as if she’d shrunk overnight.
‘Well, that’s very annoying,’ said Doris, folding her arms over the top of her handbag. ‘I’m not speaking to you.’
‘I’m sure you’ll get over it,’ said Jack easily, as he took the handles of the wheelchair.
‘Mmph,’ said Doris. ‘Where’s Gillian?’
‘Double-booked herself, and when Mum mentioned you were going to be stranded here for hours I jumped at the chance to rescue you,’ said Jack.
‘Charming me is not going to work, you know. I’m very cross with you.’
‘You and the whole village, it would seem,’ said Jack with a long-suffering sigh. He was finding it hard to get through each day with the cold shoulders and monosyllabic conversations – and that was just at work.
‘You’re a fool, you know.’
‘So I’ve been told,’ said Jack equably. There was no point telling her to mind her own business. Doris had known him forever and he was sure she felt perfectly justified in pointing out his shortcomings.
Doris lapsed into silence as he pushed her across the car park to the car. It took a bit of manoeuvring to get her out of the chair and into the front seat, during which time she stared stonily ahead without saying a word.
He stowed the folded wheelchair in the boot and got into the driver’s seat, sending a sidelong glance at Doris’ severe profile.
‘I’ve decided I may forgive you, but you have to help me.’
‘I am helping you,’ said Jack, trying not to smile at her imperious tone.
‘I cannot fathom why you’d let someone like Bets go but it’s not for me to interfere.’ She shot him an angelic smile as he started the engine.
‘No, Doris.’
‘But your loss is someone else’s gain. It’s obvious she deserves someone better.’
‘I appreciate your candour,’ said Jack, the corner of his mouth turning up despite the insult. ‘I completely agree,’ he added, deciding to be the bigger man and play along.
‘Good. I’ve decided to help her find a new man.’
‘That’s very noble of you.’ He drove out of the car park on autopilot, the route a familiar one after multiple trips to A&E over the years. Rugby injuries, falling-out-of-trees accidents and one burst-appendix incident.
‘Don’t humour me, Jack,’ she said with a snooty sniff. ‘I’m serious. And you are going to help me.’
‘Me? What? Am I going to interview potential candidates?’
‘Don’t be facetious. I’m going to set up a profile for her on Hinge.’
‘Not Tinder,’ said Jack, hiding another smile.
Doris pursed her lips. ‘I might be old but I’m not stupid. Everyone knows Tinder is for hook-ups.’
‘And does Bets know about this yet?’
‘Of course she doesn’t. You know what she’s like. Very independent. We’ve decided—’
‘We?’
‘A group of like-minded souls.’
‘Oh God, not the WI mafia? Please don’t tell me my mother is involved.’
Doris gave another one of her superior sniffs. ‘Of course she is.’
Jack rubbed at his temples. ‘Of course she is.’ Could things get any worse in this scenario?
‘We’ve decided to set up a profile and get a few candidates lined up and then she can see what’s out there.’
‘And you think Bets is going to agree to any of this?’ Bets might be as chirpy and cheerful as a cockapoo puppy but, also like a small unruly puppy, she could be stubborn if she didn’t want to do something.
He smiled to himself. Then again, she could be very persuasive when she did want to do something, sweeping you along with her unbounded enthusiasm until you were bowled over into doing something you’d not planned to do but somehow ended up enjoying.
He thought of the time in Bristol when the gig they’d been going to had been cancelled and instead, she’d dragged him and a couple of friends into the nearby bingo hall.
Among that group of friends, it had become a legendary night out, crowned with several wins …
and legendary hangovers the next morning.
Sadly he wasn’t in touch with those people anymore.
A twinge of regret tugged at him. He’d let them fall by the wayside – his own fault, too busy trying to keep up with the cool crowd.
‘We’ll see,’ said Doris lifting her chin like Boudicca going into battle.
‘So why are you telling me this?’ He was curious as to her motivation. ‘Am I supposed to be jealous or something?’
‘Good God, no. You’ve missed the boat there.
’ Her matter-of-fact and derisive response made him pause for thought.
Was Doris being serious? Suddenly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Bets moving on …
without him. He’d always assumed he’d be the one moving on and the thought made him a little ashamed of his arrogance.
In fact he felt a little sick that he’d taken Bets for granted and not even realised it until now. What a dick. He didn’t deserve her.
Doris was still talking. ‘You’re a man, you liked her once. Presumably found her attractive.’
Jack clenched the steering wheel. ‘Yes, I did find her attractive,’ he ground out, feeling a little insulted at the insinuation.
‘I think she’s attractive.’ The image that popped into his head, Bets with her wide mouth stretched in that irrepressible grin and the mischievous light in her eyes, refused to be dislodged.
‘But,’ he added hastily, ‘it’s not about looks.
’ Although his teenage self had fancied her the very first time he’d laid eyes on her.
He remembered that burst of pleasure whenever he saw her on the school bus.
Taller than the other girls, she’d always stood out, always smiling, always a little dishevelled with her curls exploding as if she’d just raced to get to the bus stop.
The memory brought with it an inexplicable flash of heat in his belly.
‘Well, I know that,’ she said pointedly, as if he didn’t. ‘You’re going to help me write her profile.’
‘I’m going to what?’ he asked with a choked splutter. Now he hadn’t seen that one coming.
‘You’re my secret weapon.’
The twenty-minute drive home was going to be a long one.