Fate wants us to get to know each other
"Mrs Gillespie is next, Patrick," Shelagh said, putting the file of said patient on her husband's desk.
"Mrs Gillespie? As in Caroline Gillespie?" Patrick asked puzzled. "She hasn't, -"
Shelagh interrupted him: "No, she is not a regular patient of ours, she is one of Dr Matthews' patients. You are his locum during his sick leave."
"Oh, I see, send her in, please," Patrick said, looking at his new patients' file his wife had just brought in.
"Mrs Gillespie, good afternoon," Patrick looked up and greeted the blonde woman who entered his office right after Shelagh had left.
"Good afternoon, Dr Turner," Mrs Gillespie replied, smiling her beaming smile. "What a coincidence, isn't it? It seems fate wants us to get to know each other," she chuckled. "This is the third time we have inadvertently encountered each other in not yet three weeks."
Patrick had had gotten up from his chair and extended his hand to Mrs Gillespie. He nodded towards the visitor's chair and sat down when she did.
"So what brings you here today?" Patrick asked.
"My arm. I wanted to wait for Dr Matthews to be back. But after my neighbour told me this morning that he is going to be ill for what seems like another week, I thought I should have this seen to," she said while she carefully rolling up her blouse, followed by slowly removing a bandage covering an infected wound the size of a cigarette packet.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. "When did this happen?" He got up from his chair, hurried around his desk and carefully reached out for Mrs Gillespie's arm while he sat down on the second visitor's chair.
She drew in a sharp breath when he touched her skin near the wound while examining it. "It is alright, go on," she hissed, when Patrick stopped his actions, looking into her face. "It happened last Friday. The boys were due to visit for the weekend, both of them, and I was in a hurry to get the ironing done. I moved too quickly and clumsily so that I bumped against the ironing board and the hot iron fell on my arm."
Mrs Gillespie took in another sharp breath when Patrick lightly squeezed her skin in an attempt to assess the state of the infection.
"I cleaned the wound but I must not have taken sufficient care and I was distracted with all my children home, so by Monday it had become infected."
"It is Thursday now, Mrs Gillespie," Patrick scolded mildly. "You know yourself you are a bit late." He looked at her earnestly. "Now, I am going to clean it properly," he explained, "and I am going to prescribe an antibiotic. I am afraid you may be close to a sepsis given the size of the inflammation, so I would like to see you in two days time again."
Patrick took a kidney basin, antiseptic and sterile cotton from a drawer and began to meticulously clean his patient's wound. Mrs Gillespie kept biting her teeth and occasionally drew in a sharp breath, trying to remain calm.
"Didn't you say one of your boys was with the navy? So he is home now?" Patrick asked.
"Yes, Gerald is with the navy, the middle one. He is staying with his brother in Earls Court at the moment. He got back from Australia last week and he is due to leave for France later this month again. He's been out for over six months. I have never been without any of my children for such a long time. But I better get used to it," she added, her face momentarily sad.
"You must have been happy then to have had all three of them with you?" Patrick asked.
"Oh yes," Mrs Gillespie laughed, "this happens so rarely by now." Gerald spending most of the time on some ship and Thomas hardly visits his old mother ever since he has gotten engaged."
"Oh, please, whom do you call old?" Patrick laughed. "Just the other day someone asked Angela whether I was her grandfather while I was out with her and the baby."
Mrs Gillespie raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? This was not very polite. But don't you agree that men have an advantage over women? For us, there is an end to having children which may enhance one's perception of being old. Not that I mind, I wouldn't want to have a little one anymore. Not at my age. Grandchildren are another thing, though. Thomas and Sophie are planning to get married next spring and I can't wait to become a grandmother."
Patrick contemplated for a while, still cleaning the wound on Mrs Gillespie's arm.
"Well, according to your file, you are indeed a few years younger than me, if you allow me to be so bold," he finally said. "We are five years apart, if I calculated correctly." He looked at her, a part of him dreading her reaction at him mentioning her age, but his patient kept looking at him with an amused half-smile.
"I hope Timothy is going to wait a few more years before I become a grandfather. With two little ones in the house, I am looking forward to the time where they become more independent. I am amazed at how I have seemingly erased all memories of the time Tim was so little."
Mrs Gillespie smiled warmly. "I understand. As much as I miss them, I don't miss the time when they were so little," she laughed. "Though they are never again going to cuddle and kiss you so much. And before you know it you will walk Angela to the altar and she is going to kiss another man."
"Oh, never," Patrick chuckled. "I think a father never wants to think of his little girl leaving him." He reached for a bandage and carefully put it on Mrs Gillespie's arm. "Now I am going to cover the wound. Please leave the cover on and keep your arm clean and dry. I am going to write a prescription for an antibiotic and I will see you in two days to check on the wound."
Mrs Gillespie got up while Patrick began writing the prescription. "Thank you, Doctor." She smiled her radiant smile and Patrick had to wilfully release her hand after holding it a bit longer than might be considered appropriate in his situation.
A few weeks later, Patrick walked home from the surgery. His car needed maintenance and Fred had promised to take care of it until next morning. After Patrick had arranged for a colleague to cover his afternoon rounds and evening calls, he had opted to walk home to enjoy a good half hour of time all by himself before playing with the little ones.
Even though it was mid-November, it was a very sunny and mild autumn day, a perfect day for a little stroll, Patrick mused. He was walking along the street thinking about how winter wasn't far away now. He was already seeing a steadily increasing number of patients suffering from flu and various respiratory diseases. He thought about whether he should increase the weekly hours of his chest clinic when he heard a familiar voice calling "Good afternoon Dr Turner. This is an unusual sight, seeing you on foot."
He looked up and noticed Mrs Gillespie standing in front of her house, trying to move a heavy wooden table all by herself.
"Do you need a hand?" he asked and entered her garden.
"Oh now, if you have to go home, never mind, I'll muddle through," the woman laughed.
Approaching her, Patrick thought she was looking radiant. A few strands of her blonde hair had come loose and the tiniest beads of sweat were covering her nose and forehead, all causing her to glow in the late afternoon sunshine.
"How in the world did you move this thing outside, and why?" Patrick asked while he put his hands on the piece of furniture to lift it.
"Caroline helped me put it outside this morning. It needed a treatment with furniture polish and I didn't want to do it inside because of the smell. It is my late husband's grandmother's dining table, our most treasured piece of furniture. And our heaviest one, I believe", she laughed. "I thought I could just leave it outside but I just heard on the radio that it is going to rain tonight."
Mrs Gillespie was now standing opposite Patrick, each one gripping the table at their end.
"Now, let me count to three," she said and did as she had announced. Both lifted the table and they slowly carried the heavy item inside, Patrick first, walking backwards and Mrs Gillespie following him.
"Where to?" Patrick panted, backing into the house.
"End of the hallway to your right, into the living room," Mrs. Gillespie shouted from her end of the table.
Once they had set down the table, Mrs Gillespie beamed at Patrick. "Thank you very much, doctor, I appreciate your help."
"Well, this is what neighbours are there for," Patrick replied, smiling. "If you consider three streets in between still as neighbours." He carefully rubbed his back, trying not to let on he was feeling an uncomfortable sting.
Mrs Gillespie responded with her bell-like laughter and cocked her head in the fashion that had struck Patrick a few times as very attractive by now. She adjusted her hair and asked: "This time would you allow me to invite you for a cup of tea?"
Patrick nodded in accordance. He wasn't yet expected at home and his family could wait. When had he last done something without either work or family anyway?
Half an hour later Patrick and Mrs Gillespie sat in her kitchen and she poured them both their third cup of tea, this time adding a generous splash of whisky from a bottle she had just taken out of one of the kitchen cupboards. "I think we earned this one. And with the breeze coming up outside you'll appreciate a bit of warmth when going home later, now that the sun has vanished. Not that I want to throw you out," she said, looking him into his face. "I rather enjoy your company, I am afraid to admit."
Patrick chuckled. "Why afraid? Didn't you think I was able to do conversation?"
Mrs Gillespie laughed. "Oh no. But you always seem so busy and so earnest. From getting to know Timothy I know you are a decent father. But it is only now that I have gotten to appreciate your humour and wit, I didn't know you were such a funny man. Most men your, well, our age, have somehow lost their sense of humour along the way. Don't ask me why," she said, pulling a face at Patrick.
"Or maybe it is just me not being used to male company anymore," she added, blushing slightly, casting down her eyes.
"I am sorry you haven't been able to find another man appreciating your kindness," Patrick said. He instantly realized what he had said and cleared his throat: "I am sorry, that didn't come out as I intended. I find you a very kind and gentle woman, very pleasant company. You deserve happiness, that is what I wanted to say."
Mrs Gillespie smiled. "Maybe I wasn't looking for one."
"I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Patrick hurried to say.
"Oh no, Dr Turner, none taken. In fact, for years after Martin's death, all of my friends and family kept suggesting I should remarry. But at first it hurt too much and then I began to appreciate my independence. I was a secretary when I met Martin, he was working at a bank. We got married, we had a child, I stayed at home. I stayed at home for almost 15 years, when before I had earned my own living for almost five. But Martin wouldn't have it, he didn't want people to think he could not provide for us."
Patrick nodded. "I think this is what most men think. With Shelagh, I could never stop her from working. She quit her work when we got married but I always knew she would return. In fact, she recently went back to midwifery full time and even though I would never say anything to her, it has added a bit of a strain to us. You know, childcare, the household, there is still a lot where we have yet to establish new routines. But she is happy and she excels at her profession, this is why I would never want her to not work."
"You really are a decent man," Mrs Gillespie said. "Well, I am not sure if I will be excelling at my profession anytime soon", she continued after a pause.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Why is that?" he asked.
"I received my notice two weeks ago. I used to be a secretary at Milton's tea traders. Son took over from father and wanted a fresh start, so half of his father's former employees had to go," she explained with a sad voice. "Almost all of the office staff, those working in direct contact with him."
Instinctively, Patrick reached out and lightly patted her left hand which lay on the table, next to her tea cup. Stella slightly winced at his touch but relaxed very quickly. "I am sorry," he said. "You don't deserve this."
Mrs Gillespie laughed bitterly. "No, no one really does. So I have been doing all sorts of things around the house," she paused and made a waving gesture with her right hand, "I am one for keeping me busy. We do have a modest amount of savings from Martin which will keep us going for a while, but I am not made for sitting home idle."
Patrick smiled warmly at her. "No, indeed, you don't strike me as the idle type," he said. Suddenly, he realized that his hand was still resting on hers. He quickly pulled it back and an awkward silence fell onto the two, only interrupted by the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Both stared into their almost empty cups for a while until Mrs Gillespie looked up again and said: "We do seem to get along quite well. How about first names? With us being similar in age, what do you think? I am Stella."
Patrick looked at her in surprise: "Erm, yes, thank you. Patrick, …Patrick."
Stella extended her hand across the table, a happy grin spreading widely over her face. She looked girlish, Patrick thought and it made him grin, too. "Well, thank you, Patrick. The first mature friend I have made in quite a while."
Patrick took her hand and squeezed it a bit more tightly and quite a bit longer than he normally would. Both looked at each smiling happily for a while until Stella asked: "Another cup for the way? I am certain it must be quite cold outside by now."
Patrick looked at her intently and slowly pulled back his hand. "Erm, I think I better go. I have been intruding more than I should have. Thank you for the lovely company."
"It is me who needs to thank you," Stella smiled and both got up from the kitchen table. "You did the heavy lifting. Don't think I didn't notice that you bent your back. You need to be more careful. We are not getting any younger, Patrick."
Patrick looked at her and laughed. "Oh Stella, you got me there. Yes, I did probably hurt my back a bit, but it was worth it for the tea and tipple, not to forget the good company."
Stella walked Patrick to the front door. "Good bye, Patrick," she said once he had put on his coat. "Good bye Stella," he said and both looked at each other again before Patrick turned around and left for his own home.