Give me another chance, the girl pleaded again, pulling a handkerchief from the tiny pocket of her coat and dabbing at her nose. It was white, edged in a soft blue trim, with tiny flowers stitched into the corners.
Andrew Whitaker watched her, a wry smile tugging at his lips. How touching, he thought. She can feel itI cant stand a womans tears.
No hope for you, he said, his tone dry. Try again next year, love. In the meantime, how about I get you a job as a ward assistant in the infirmary? Its grim work, but at least youll see the inside of the place youre so eager to join. He swept his gaze over the bustling courtyard of the medical college, studded with students in white coats. Imagine the pristine gowns, the gleaming instruments, the sunlit corridorspeople looking up to you like demigods, nodding politely while they beg for a bit of mercy. Isnt that the dream?
He leaned closer, his eyes flicking to the freckles dusting her cheek. Youve got a dozen freckles, Miss Redford! The sun must love you, its kissed you all over.
Suddenly, a burst of laughter escaped him. The freckles, the suns affectionate kisses, his wifes birthday at the country house, the trout and pike bobbing in the pond, the buzzing bees in the hivesall of it seemed to swirl into a ridiculous, joyous tableau. He imagined himself chatting with the bees, trying to teach them sense.
Daisy Redford raised her head, narrowing her eyes. The professor is laughing thats odd. Everything feels wrongshed prepared, then mixed everything up, fidgeted with the ticket in her sweaty palms, afraid to look up. She sighed, What a mess
Andrews voice softened. Im not mocking you, Daisy. Youre beautiful. He tugged at his shirt collar, his battered leather briefcase clutched under his arm. How about some icecream? Its scorching today. He flipped his collar, Dont think Im taking you to a fancy restaurant or a ballet. Just icecream. Here, take this. He rummaged in the pocket of his tweed jacket, pulling out a crumpled fivepound note. Buy yourself and me a cone. Ill wait on the bench.
Daisy shrugged, her eyes shining. Which flavour? she asked softly.
Anything. And quickly. Otherwise Ill be left with a damp mess, and youll never make it as a ward assistant. He chuckled, watching her tiny, wavering steps toward the icecream stall.
Little girl, youre practically a child! he muttered, shaking his head. How did you end up here?
He perched on the bench, placing his briefcase beside him, and drew out another handkerchiefthis one huge, patterned in garish bluegreen checks, an eyesore compared to Daisys. He brushed his forehead, wiping sweat from his brow, grimacing. Its disgustingbeing sweaty, tired, old. Its repulsive to stand beside this freckled, delicate girl and feel the urge to flirt. God forbid! I love my wife more than anything; I never look at students that way. Its just sad to watch a life pass by while Im left admiring someone else’s youthful spark. SheRedfordhas the whole future ahead of her, while were left here, balding, wornout, past our prime.
Daisy clutched the icecream, her hands trembling. Why are you watching me? she asked, voice cracking. Heres your conedouble scoop, as you asked. She thrust the wrapped treat toward him.
What about you? Andrew snapped, eyes narrowing at her empty hands. I told you to get two. Youre not listening! What now? Ill tell you. He widened his eyes, looking like the pike hed planned to catch the next day. Nothing! Youre told, yet you do nothing! You ignore.
No! I understand! Ill goright now! she shouted, throwing the pinkandwhite cap back onto the stall, grabbing another double scoop and sprinting back. She plopped onto the bench beside his briefcase.
Eat, he commanded. Then be off. I have a lot to domy wifes cottage, loading the car, hauling suitcases. Eat your fill. Where are you headed?
She wiped a corner of her mouth with a finger, shrugging. The icecream was overly sweet, cloying, too rich. Im not sure where I am, she muttered, eyes darting.
Dont you know where you belong? Andrew snapped, stamping his foot. Youre staying with Aunt Liza for now. Her relatives are coming from the far northMoorfield, I thinkso Ill have to leave. The flat isnt exactly spacious.
Right, Aunt Liza said I should behave, that the flat isnt a playground. So Im staying, but Ill leave soon. He sniffed, amused at her mispronouncing his name, Andrew Whitaker. He raised a finger. Youll have another exam, I suppose? Im tired of hearing you stammer. How will you manage at work if you keep mixing up things? Youll end up cutting a spleen instead of an appendixabsurd!
You cant cut one thing for another, she protested, eyes wide. Its different. Want more icecream? Two?
She grabbed his wrist; he jerked away, snorting. I dont want it. And Id advise you not to indulgeexcess is useless. I must go; my wife awaits. Return next year, perhaps.
He rose, bowed, and strode down the parks path without looking back. Daisy, her whiteandred cap drooping, let out a sigh and remained on the bench, tucking a tiny suitcaseno larger than a toyinto the shrubbery.
This is it everythings over, she whispered, cheeks wet with tears, hand trembling on her lap. Theyll laugh at me at home. No one believed Id become a doctor
In the modest village of Ashford, split by a winding road into the old terraced houses on one side and the newer council flats on the other, no one truly believed that a diminutive girl like Daisy could ever graduate from medical school and walk the wards in a white coat, issuing orders to nurses half a century older than her.
The local hospital was a crumbling threestorey building, its windows patched with old newspaper, the walls stained with yellowgreen mould. The chief surgeon, Dr. Nigel Fenton, was a sallow, redcheeked man with blue veins spiderwebbing his nose, a perpetually puffy face, dark cracked lips. He rarely left his office, refusing to hire modern staff, always in a foul mood.
Daisy had prepared to confront him, but shed failed every subjectRussian, biology, geneticsher dreams slipping away.
Andrew Whitaker had vanished from sight, leaving Daisy alone on the bench, still clutching the melted icecream stick.
Now I just want a drink, she muttered, pulling the suitcase from the bushes and heading toward the bus stop, hoping to catch the evening train before darkness fell.
She feared walking alone after dusk, each rustle of a bush a phantom, every creak a ghost. Grandmothers tales of demons and forest spirits haunted her, making her cling to the coat of her childhood. The night soundsbranches snapping, chickens clucking, a rooster crowing, dogs barkingmade her shiver beneath the blanket of fear.
Her grandfather, now dead from a lung infection, had once snored loudly, a sound that oddly comforted her. His death left the house silent, except for the occasional cough from the old doctor who still prescribed herbal poultices.
A sanitary worker, Mrs. Tamara Egerton, passed by, muttering about the exhausted doctor. The dark road home remained littered with overgrown hedges and abandoned brick houses, rumored to be haunted.
A lanky boy named Owen, carrying a battered suitcase, caught up with her. What are you doing here? he asked, halflaughing. You didnt think Id believe youd get in? Daisy snapped, Give it back, Ill carry it myself! He grinned, Ive backed you up more than anyone. Aunt Liza called, told me you were heading back, so Im here. He pulled her into a sudden, fierce hug, then, breathless, pressed his cheek to her chest, whimpering like a child.
Their kiss was clumsy, wet, like two fledglings pecking. Daisy blinked, then pulled him closer, his lips forming a tiny pipe as he leaned in.
This is odd, but Im glad youre back, Owen whispered after they broke apart. If you stayed, Id have come to you, I promise.
Daisy nodded, a smile breaking through the gloom. Somewhere, the wind rattled the windows of the infirmary, and Andrew Whitaker, now in a slightly older, woolen coat, rummaged through a stack of admission lists, his fingers trembling.
Karas Carrow Carrington he muttered, scanning names. Where is Redford, Daisy? He glanced at Nurse Nadine, who was adjusting her spectacles, wiping her own bluetrimmed handkerchief.
The handkerchief? he asked. Bought it at the market. There were yellowflower ones, but this one I like better. Nadine blushed, tucking the cloth into her bag.
Nothing! he snapped. Where is she? She didnt turn up! Ive wasted my wifes patience, my dear Tawife, over her. I even begged the dean for a special place for herhe refused. All those students, they think Im a fool.
Nadine, now pregnant, sighed, pulling an apple from her purse and chewing nervously. Shes not here, she said, eyes wide. Im sorry.
Andrews face flushed. Ill keep looking. He stormed out, jabbing at the icecream cart, buying a double scoop and sitting back on the bench, chewing thoughtfully.
Fine, he muttered. Shell be the one to change things. My pond still has pike, my wifes birthday is coming up, and Ill remember her.
The scene shifted to the cottage garden where his wife, Tessa, and friends sang and grilled sausages, talking about football and fishing. Suddenly, Andrew clutched his chest, turned pale, and began gasping.
Everyone scrambled, checking his pulse, shouting for a doctor. The old road was dark, streetlights flickering. An angry driver cursed the overturned fuel tanker blocking the way.
Wheres the nearest hospital? someone shouted. Take a detour to the village infirmary. The car careened toward the modest, damp building with its yellowgreen mouldy walls.
Inside, a janitor barked, Theres a heart attack! Call a doctor! The doctor, Dr. Fenton, staggered in, reeking of brandy, his face flushed crimson.
Quiet! he shouted at Tessa, who was sobbing. Stop making a scene! He pushed past her into the ward.
Andrew lay in a cold, empty room, the dawn barely lighting the grimy windows. His wife lay slumped in a hard metal chair, halfasleep. He tried to reach for her hand but couldnt move, a soft moan escaping his lips.
The door opened and a young nurse in a blue coat entered, her headscarf fluttering. She adjusted it, approached the bed, and gently lifted his head. Water? she asked, offering a glass.
Redford? You? Andrew whispered, his freckled nose twitching. The nurse smiled. Im Daisy Redford. Dr. Fenton says theres no heart attacksomething else. You must rest. Drink.
She poured water, and he sipped gratefully.
What are you doing here? he asked, voice hoarse. Ive been searching the admission lists for two years. You youre the one who slipped through. Daisy placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.
Ill come back next year, for sure, she said. When I left, I met Owen at the station, we married, had a boy named Sam. Hes tiny, I cant leave him. I became a ward assistant as you suggested, learned a lot, and now Im heading back to finish my studies.
Where? Andrew asked, bewildered. In this dump? What can you learn here? Daisy sighed, Its terrible, but thats why I want to be a doctorto change it all.
The chief will tear you apart, the professor snarled, like he does to every patient who thinks he can cut an appendix and ends up slicing the spleen.
Impossible! Daisy shouted, eyes wide. Its all different. Want another cone? Two?
She grabbed his arm; he jerked away, hissing, Dont indulge. Its excess. He rose, pounding the blanket. This place is rottenmould, drafts, no proper care!
Tess, calm down, Tessa cried, shaking him gently. You cant shout like that.
Daisy smiled, You look like a wizard, Dr. Fenton, with that beard. She teased, Your beard could eat you alive.
Redford! You you he stammered, tears welling.
Im Daisy Redford. And youre Professor Whitaker, not some sorcerer. She offered tea with ginger biscuits. Dont worry, we have a decent doctor, just very tired.
A lanky man named Colin, gaunt and dishevelled, shuffled in. Hed once been a hopeful surgeon, now a shadow of his former self, his white coat greyyellow with grime.
Im back, Colin croaked, I thought Id vanished. I fought wars, tried to help, but there were no supplies. I gave up, watched the young ones come and go, and now only the old women remain.
Teach Daisy, he muttered, shell be the one to fix this place. Shes got the spark.
Andrew, his face flushing, sputtered, Well write, well fight. We must.
The night deepened, the infirmarys windows flickering with dim light. Andrew lay silent, the cold air whispering through the corridors. Outside, a wind rattled the shutters, and the scent of damp plaster lingered.
A nurse entered, placing a glass of water on the bedside table. Mrs. Redford, would you like some tea? she asked, eyes kind.
Daisy took the cup, nodding, Yes, thank you. She glanced at Andrew, who opened his eyes faintly. Ill be back next year, I promise. She turned, her voice steady, And Ill make sure this place changes.
Andrew watched her leave, the list of names still hanging on the wall: Redford, Daisy Eleanor. He smiled, a thin, rueful grin, and shuffled toward the icecream cart, ready to buy another cone for the next round of hopes.
