doctor in tow, Aidy raced off in the direction of his surgery.
Ty had just returned from his morning calls and was busy at his desk, updating the notes of the patients he’d just called upon. He’d had very little sleep the previous night, having been called out for most of it to deal with a breach birth, and it was only thanks to his skills that the child survived. As tired as he was, he was having a job focusing on his work. He was hungry, too, having had no time for any breakfast as he’d overslept and only just made it in time for morning surgery.
He hadn’t realised he’d dozed off until he was shocked awake by the door unexpectedly bursting open. A woman came rushing in, proclaiming, ‘You’ve got to come quick, Doc! It’s me gran, she’s hurt really badly.’
He stared over at her, sleep dazed for a moment, as he gathered his wits, then recognition of the intruder struck. This was the woman who had rudely erupted into his surgery only days ago. Now here she was, disrespectfully interrupting once again.
‘I see you haven’t yet learned to knock before you invade someone’s privacy. And it’s Doctor Strathmore,’ he told her.
Aidy hadn’t time for what she perceived as his pettiness right now. She reiterated, ‘My gran’s hurt really badly, Doc. You got to come and see her now.’
The woman hadn’t exaggerated how ill her mother was the last time she had fetched him so he had no reason to believe she was summoning him on a wild goose chase now. His first priority was to the patient.
‘Name?’ Ty demanded. Memory stirred within him of the last time he had asked her the same question and he added, ‘The patient’s name, not your own.’
Aidy’s hackles rose that he hadn’t given her credit for not making the same stupid mistake again. This man was so arrogant, so annoying. She inwardly fought with herself not to snap a response. After all she couldn’t afford to antagonise him and risk his refusing to have anything to do with her.
‘Bertha Rider. You’re wasting your time looking for her record card, though. Gran is very proud of the fact she’s never in her life suffered from anything bad enough to warrant seeing a doctor over. Well, until now, that is.’
Ty got up from his chair, pulled on his jacket and grabbed his bag, indicating to Aidy that she should lead the way to where her grandmother was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was after seven when the family all gathered round the sofa upon which Bertha was lying, a worn, patched blanket covering her.
Marion knelt on the floor beside her, looking at her grandmother earnestly. ‘I don’t like to see you hurt, our Gran,’ she wailed.
Despite her extreme discomfort, Bertha managed to quip, ‘I’m not that happy about it meself, ducky.’
‘D’yer want my comic to read?’ offered George from the other end of the sofa.
She flashed him a pained smile. ‘Not now, love. Maybe later, eh?’
‘I hate that Mrs Nelson,’ piped up Betty, perched on the arm of the sofa to one side of her brother. ‘I’ve a good mind to push her out the door meself. See how she likes it.’
‘I’ll come with yer and help yer do it,’ offered George, his face screwed up in hatred for the woman who had caused his beloved grandmother such agony from a broken leg and wrist as well as bruising to other parts of her face and body that had hit the cobbles.
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Aidy told them in no uncertain terms as she arrived in the room carrying a cup of sweet tea for Bertha. Although she was having a hard job herself controlling a desire to confront her mother-in-law and repay the compliment. But all that would do would be to lower herself to Pat’s level, plus show her siblings that it was all right to repay violence with violence. ‘If there is any justice in this world, that woman will get her comeuppance one day. But not from us. So if I hear of any of you going anywhere near Mrs Nelson, then none of you will be able to sit down for a week. Is that clear?’
Their sister’s warnings were never idle. They all vigorously nodded their heads.
‘Good. Now clear out of the way and give Gran air to breathe and me room to give her a drink,’ she ordered them, adding as an afterthought, ‘In fact, go out and play, but be