Chapter 13
I sat up so fast that for a moment I felt quite dizzy, although of course that might have been the effects of the wine.
I hung on to the edge of the bed until everything calmed down and then I reached for my laptop.
I’d left it on top of the dressing table in a jumble of adaptors, plugs and cables, and it took me a few minutes to untangle everything.
Then I made the cup of tea after all and sat back down on my bed with my laptop on my knees.
Search: Doctor Bill
Even as I waited for the information to load up, I could suddenly vaguely remember him. And then I wondered why it had taken me this long to put the pieces together and realise who he was.
As time went by, some of the presenters became more well known and had begun to appear on other programmes as celebrities. And Doctor Bill had been one of them.
He had started out as the resident doctor on Marvellous Mornings, popping up from time to time to talk about flu and immunisation, or perhaps giving expert advice on varicose veins or the problem of glue sniffing in schools.
He had always been well-dressed in a suit and tie, well-spoken and polite, even when faced with the most outlandish theories.
He’d had a fan base of women who should have known better who sent in silly questions to his ‘Ask Doctor Bill’ spot.
He became quite a celebrity himself, appearing on cooking shows and panel games where he would be pawed rather embarrassingly by other female panellists, the sort of thing that these days would never be allowed.
And then he had simply disappeared from screens everywhere, almost overnight.
There had been no explanation, no scandal, no awkward photographs of him emerging bleary-eyed from hotels or nightclubs.
No claims that he had been something of a predator or unpleasant to work with.
And not that I would have read them, but I couldn’t remember any kiss-and-tell exposés in the Sunday papers from fading starlets desperate for attention who had hooked up with him. Nothing.
I scrolled through the links to find out more.
There were images of him, with longer, dark hair.
He’s been much younger, of course, obviously taken in his television days, some with celebrities grinning next to him.
There were pictures of him with the rest of the Marvellous Mornings team when they celebrated their first anniversary, and there was a very brief Wikipedia post which said nothing very much.
Dr William McKenzie James, born in Dorset, qualified from medical school in Oxford, worked for Médecins Sans Frontières in Europe and Africa for several years before pursuing a career in media on Marvellous Mornings.
He appeared several times on Ask the Doctor, Medical Matters and a regular on Your Health Your Choice, and then left to pursue other interests.
Married Selena Montgomery 1988–1990. No children. Update needed on this post.
There were a few old posts from people wondering what had happened to him. And that was all.
I frowned, wondering what the mystery was, and then I drank my tea and opened the shutters. A kitten came zooming in, scuffed up the bedside rug and went out again.
Perhaps Will had just gone back to being a doctor, and there was no mystery at all.
But then I discovered there had even been a fan club, The Bill-Lovers, started by a woman called Fifi in the West Midlands who, for a small yearly fee, would send updates and photos, allegedly signed by him.
I clicked on the most recent link, which was from nearly a decade ago.
No news to report this year, Bill-Lovers. And sad to say I’ll be closing down this site. Remembering Doctor Bill with love and hugs. Or should that be Heimlich manoeuvres? Haha! I’m sure you miss him as much as I do. Sad face.
I had a message last month from a Bill-Lover in Spain who thought she saw him at the beach in Marbella, but having seen the photo, I don’t think it was.
And I’m sure Doctor Bill wouldn’t have been serving ice cream anyway.
Even if he did give her an extra flake. Which of course is exactly what he would have done. If it had been him.
I know you lovely fans will miss talking about our favourite Doctor Bill moments. I think the best one was when he was spotted in Waitrose buying asparagus. I never eat it now without thinking of him. Wasn’t he gorgeous, ladies? Signing off for now, Fifi.
I looked back at the images of him as a young man again, recognising the same lovely eyes, kind face and tall frame.
There were even some of him at awards ceremonies in a DJ, and didn’t he scrub up well.
In a couple, the elegant blonde woman beside him was identified as his wife Selena.
My word, she was a stunner – tall, willowy and gorgeous.
What a fantastic couple they made, and yet…
I sat back and stared into space. Flipping heck.
I’d discovered the whereabouts of the elusive Doctor Bill, and he had resurfaced all these years later here, on a painting course when he wasn’t actually doing any painting as far as I could tell.
He’d taken me out to dinner and been incredibly friendly.
And he’d kissed me. Goodness, that would give the Bill-Lovers something to think about.
What should I do next? Should I tell the others, confront him with the news that I knew who he was?
No, of course not. I wasn’t going to do any of those things.
Apart from anything else, it would undoubtedly mean that Dennis would want a long consultation with him about his ankle, his cholesterol medication and who knew what other medical problems. People always did that to doctors, didn’t they?
Try and get some free advice. I pulled a face in sympathy.
The best thing to do was nothing. I would carry on as though I didn’t know. And treat him exactly the same. But would I be able to do so when I had just now seen photographs of him smiling as he met the Queen, a couple of prime ministers and two of the Spice Girls?
I would do my best. And I definitely wouldn’t mention my problems with my knee or ask him what he thought about statins.
* * *
That evening, Jillian was determined we would all go out together. Why she kept on trying to round us up, I had no idea. We had all been quite happy spending time with the people we liked and really didn’t need to be treated like an unruly school party.
Just after six thirty we assembled around a table in Trofí ton Theón, which Beryl said translated as Food of the Gods.
Jillian stood at one end of the table, while the waiters hovered with menus behind her. She wanted to explain about our trip to the vineyard the following day, and had even printed out some sheets of paper explaining where it was and what to expect.
‘Everyone enjoys this tour,’ she said, a bright smile fixed on her face. ‘Everyone.’
‘Even the tee-totallers?’ Effie murmured, taking one of the sheets and passing the rest on.
She was rewarded with a hard look.
‘And I know you will enjoy it too. It’s just a short ride in the minibus and we will be leaving the hotel at two o’clock, so don’t be late or Gregor will go without you. He’s a great fan of the place.’
‘I hope he won’t be joining in?’ Dennis said. ‘His driving is bad enough without adding a wine tasting into the mix.’
Jillian gave an exasperated sigh.
‘No, of course not, but apparently his daughter was married there a few years ago. It’s a gorgeous place with lovely views, of course. A great location to take pictures, perhaps to use later for a painting, if some of you ever get round to doing any,’ she added quietly.
‘She means us,’ Effie muttered. ‘Well, I’m definitely not going to do any painting now, just to annoy her.’
I smothered a snort of laughter.
‘There is no actual meal, just a few tasty nibbles which have been specially selected from local suppliers to complement the various wines,’ Jillian said. ‘I have quite a good palate.’
‘Me too,’ Beryl said, ‘although mine is covered in acrylics. Perhaps I should clean it off, although I don’t think Van Gogh ever did. I saw his at a museum once, it was a right old mess.’
‘I mean palate, not palette,’ Jillian said, annoyed.
‘Of course, I’m just being silly,’ Beryl said.
‘And then you can buy bottles of your favourite wines at a discount if you want to. Some of them are really good value. An absolute bargain.’
‘Are they more than four euros?’ Effie asked, her expression innocent.
‘Well, yes, of course they are,’ Jillian said. ‘But some of the bin-ends are very reasonably priced.’
‘Not that great then,’ Beryl murmured.
Jillian rapped on the table with the back of a fork to hush everyone.
‘Now that I have you all here for once, and it’s obvious that my work with the handouts has been a waste of time, I am just going to remind you that tomorrow morning is free time, and late afternoon we will be going to the vineyards for the wine-tasting experience.
The day after that I have arranged a still-life session, which will be for everyone, and will be up on the roof terrace at ten thirty. I do hope all of you will be there.’
Jillian sent a sharp look down to our end of the table.
Will was sitting almost opposite me, and we exchanged quick glances.
I gave him a rather nervous grin, and he smiled back.
Could I think of him just as Will any more, or would I forever imagine him standing by the lovely Selena outside a London theatre at the Royal Variety Show, getting a Blue Peter badge from presenter Yvette Fielding or having an interview with the programme’s canine sock-puppet mascot Marvellous Monty about going to the vet.
Hmm.
‘That sounds like a group directive to me. We’d better comply or she might turn nasty. Have you had a good afternoon?’ he said as we scanned our menus.
‘We had some local wine. It was four euros from the supermarket.’
‘And was it nice?’