Give me one more chance, the girl begged again, pulling a dainty handkerchief from the small pocket of her coat and briskly wiping her nose. The handkerchief was white, edged with a pale blue trim, and dotted with tiny flowers in the corners.
Touching, thought Professor Andrew Yates. Ah, how the lad can tell Im not one for womens tears.
No hope this year. Try again next year, love. In the meantime, how about I get you a job as a wardboy in the hospital? Its gritty, its hard, but youll get a good look at the inside, if thats what you fancy, he said, surveying the bustling courtyard of the medical school where a gaggle of students milled about. Imaginewhite coats, shiny tools, spotless corridors, sunshine streaming in, and you, halfgodlike, nodding at patients while they stare at you with pleading eyes. Not that youd actually be a deity, of course, the professor added, leaning under the girls jaunty cap and pausing. Youve got so many freckles, Poppy! The sun must love you, smothering you in kisses.
He burst into laughter, his mirth sparked by the girls lightcopper freckles and the thought of the sun lavishing its affection on Poppy. He also thought of his wifes birthday, the country cottage theyd soon visit, the pike and perch swimming in the pond, and the bees buzzing in their hives. In his mind, he was even chatting with the insects, giving them a lecture on common sense.
Poppy raised an eyebrow, puzzled. The professor is laughing Strange. This whole thing feels wrong, improper! I prepared, but Ive mixed everything up, my hands trembling as I fumbled with my ticket, fearing to even lift my eyes. What a mess
Uuh Im not laughing at you, Poppy, youre a lovely young lady, Andrew stammered. Well thenice cream? I cant, its scorching today! He tugged at his shirt collar, clutching his battered briefcase under his arm. Dont get the wrong ideaIm not taking you to a fancy restaurant or a ballet. Just a simple scoop. Here, take this, he rummaged in the pocket of his tweed jacket, pulling out crumpled notes. Buy us both some ice cream. Ill wait on the bench. Over there! He gestured broadly.
Poppy squinted, shrugged. Which flavour? she asked softly.
Any you like, and be quick. Otherwise Ill be left with a soggy spot and no wardboy job for you. Off you go, Poppy! He watched, delighted, as the tiny, slenderfooted girl scurried toward the icecream vendor.
Girl, youre just a child at heart! he muttered, shaking his head. Where did that come from?
Settling onto a bench and placing his briefcase beside him, Andrew fished out another handkerchief from his coat. This one was massive, covered in an atrocious bluegreen check, undeniably hideous. He dabbed his forehead and neck, grimacing. Disgusting! Being sweaty, tired, and old is repulsive. Its awful to feel grand next to this freckled, delicate girl. Not because I want to flirtGod forbid! I love my wife more than life itself; I never stare at students. Its just sad that life has passed me by, leaving me to admire the youthful, bold, stubborn Poppy. She and her kind have a bright future, and we old, balding, veteran types can only watch.
He stared intently at the approaching Poppy, who looked embarrassed.
Why are you studying me? she asked, handing him a paperwrapped icecream bar. Heres your vanilla.
What about you? he snapped, irritated by her empty hands. I said get two. Youre not listening! What now? Ill tell you! He widened his eyes, looking like the pike hed hoped to catch tomorrow. Nothing! Youre told what to do, yet you ignore it! You
No, I get it! Ill do it now! she exclaimed, darting back to the vendor, buying another scoop, and flopping onto the bench beside his briefcase.
Eat, Andrew ordered. Then goodbye. Ive got a lot to dogetting my wife to the cottage, loading parcels, lugging bags. Eat, eat! Where are you off to?
Poppy wiped the corner of her mouth with a finger, shrugging. The ice cream was overly sweet and greasy, making you thirsty instead of satisfied.
So you dont know where you are? Andrew huffed, stamping his foot. Youll be staying with Aunt Lena, right? She said the flat isnt exactly a palace, so you should move on. Anyway, where do you live? Where did you come from? he asked, chewing.
Doesnt matter. Just take me, will you? Give me another exam, please! I can explain three tickets, four I got confused and panicked, she stammered.
Give it a rest, love. Dont let your head get tangled. How will you work then? Youll cut out a spleen instead of an appendix! Impossible! he scolded, pointing a finger.
Its different! Want more ice cream? Two scoops? Poppy grabbed his arm; he jerked away, huffing.
No thank you. I dont recommend excess. Off you go, Poppy. I must be offmy wifes waiting. He rose, saluted, and sauntered down the park path without looking back. The girl in the redandwhite cap sighed dejectedly, remaining on the bench. She tucked a tiny suitcaseno bigger than a toyinto the shrubbery.
All right, thats it, she muttered, her freckled nose trembling. Home will laugh at me. No one believed Id study medicine
In the little hamlet of Eastwick, a semirural settlement split by a winding lane of traffic between rows of tidy terraced houses and thatched cottages with cheerful shutters, nobody really expected the grasshopperlike Poppy to get into medical school and one day stroll the local infirmary in a pristine coat, directing nurses, the oldest of whom was nearing sixty.
The Eastwick hospital was a shabby threestorey block with yellowgreen mouldy patches on the walls and drafty windows. The chief medical officer, Dr. Nigel Finch, was a redcheeked, swollennose sort of man with blue veins visible beneath his skin, dark dry lips, and perpetual bags under his eyes. He rarely left his office, claiming he wasnt obliged to take on fresh, modern staff, and was constantly in a foul mood.
Poppy had prepared to face him, but shed bombed biology and genetics. It wasnt meant to be.
Andrew Yates had vanished from sight, while Poppy lingered on the bench, still clutching her icecream stick.
Now I just want a drink, she thought, pulling her suitcase from the shrubbery, glancing around, and heading for the bus stop, hoping to catch the evening coach before darkness fell.
She was terrified of walking alone at night, every rustle in the hedges seemed like a ghost. Her grandmother, a chatty storyteller, had filled her childhood with myths of demons and forest spirits. The night soundscreaking fences, snapping branches, a distant roosters crow, barking dogsmade her shiver under the covers. Even the grandfathers snoring in the next room, whistling and muttering, oddly soothed her.
Who would dare enter if an old mans snoring like that? she mused before finally drifting off.
Now the old man in the hospital, Dr. Finch, had passed away from pneumonia. Hed prescribed eternal poultices instead of proper treatments. He died in two days, still grumbling.
A nurse named Tamara Egerton walked past, muttering, What a ordeal
The dark lane to the house from the station was still the samehedges, trees, abandoned brick houses full of whoknowswhat. A tiny figure dragged her suitcase, sniffling, through the gloom. Why? Why hadnt Professor Andrew believed her? She could have excelled.
Didnt get enough points, love? Try again next year, the professor seemed to tell her in his mind. Why cling to him? You trusted him for no reason.
A lanky lad named Vicky caught up with her, scooped up her suitcase, and handed it back. What are you doing here? You didnt think Id believe youd get in, did you? Poppy snapped, Give it back, Ill carry it myself!
Calm down, love, Vicky grumbled. Ive been rooting for you forever. My aunt called, said you were coming back, so I waited. He stopped, and Poppy threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, then clinging to his chest, wailing like a child.
He finally kissed her. It was awkward, soggy, like two fledglings pecking. Poppy stared, then leaned in, and they shared a brief, tender moment.
Its odd, but Im glad youre back, Vicky whispered. If youd stayed, Id have visited you.
She nodded. Everything seemed alright, except for the latestage grief for the old doctor.
A gust of wind rattled a window, and Professor Andrew, now a bit older, a little dustier, but still spry, snatched a list of applicants from a clerk named Nadine, flipping through it frantically.
Ah! Karson, Carter, Carrow Oh dear, the names! he muttered, running a bony finger down the columns. Looking for someone specific?
Nadine, eyes weary, removed her glasses, breathed on the lenses, and dabbed them with a white handkerchief edged in blue with floral corners. From where did you get that? Andrew asked.
Its from the market. There were ones with yellow flowers, but I like this better, she replied, tucking the kerchief into her bag.
Never mind! Kettle, Colby, Kostya, Kurr Lord! Where is she? He glared at the pregnant Nadine, who, embarrassed, pulled out an apple and began chewingshe always ate when nervous.
She isnt here! She didnt turn up! Ive been stressing my wife, Tessa, over this! I called the dean, begged for a spot out of the usual competition, but they said no places. Ive rattled the whole department, and she still didnt come this year. Thats why you shouldnt trust the applicants, Nadine!
Nadine nodded, Shell never trust anyone again, thats painful.
Soon Professor Andrew was spotted among the posted admission lists, spectacles slipping down his nose, looking disgruntled.
Looking for a protégé? laughed Dr. Faye Barlow, a sharptongued senior lecturer. Not everyone gets lucky.
Im not looking for anyone! Andrew snapped, pulling his arm free from her grasp and marching toward the icecream trolley.
He bought a doublescoop, sat on his bench, and ate contemplatively.
Fine then, he sighed. Ive got a pike in the pond, perch, and my wifes birthday again Why do I remember that one girl?
He thought of Poppy, whod offered nothing in return but a promise to study hard. Pure, naïve, and oddly refreshing.
Later, at the cottage, his wife Tessa smiled as men grilled sausages, sang by the guitar, and talked about fishing and football. The women, including the birthday girl, lounged on the veranda, laughing over fashion magazines.
Everything was fine until Andrew suddenly went pale, trembling, clutching at his throat. Everyone swarmed, feeling his pulse, shouting diagnoses. Tessa, unaware, was still sipping tea. The car sped toward the village infirmary, a bleak threestorey building with yellowgreen mould on the walls and a cracked plaster ceiling.
Wheres the emergency ward? shouted the driver, Igor, as they barreled down the country lane.
The whole place is a ward! the groundskeeper retorted, shrieking about a distant relatives death from a heart attack.
Enough! Call a doctor! Wheres the nearest GP? Igor demanded, slapping the drivers shoulder.
Tessa burst through the cottage door, only to find it locked. She pounded on the wood, yelling until finally a door creaked open. Dr. Finch, blearyeyed and smelling of cheap whiskey, staggered out.
Quiet, love! Stop banging, itll split your head! he barked, then shuffled inside.
Later, Andrew lay in a cold, empty ward at dawn, the windows barely letting in light. He tried to move his hand toward his wifes, but couldnt. He moaned and closed his eyes.
The door opened, and a nurse in a blue coat with a headscarf entered, adjusting her coat. She lifted his head gently.
Water? Lets have some water, she said, pouring a glass. Andrews eyes widened.
Poppy? You? he whispered, his freckled nose twitching.
Yes, Professor Yates, she replied, smiling. Dr. Finch says theres no heart attack, just something else. Drink up, you look pale.
He sipped, grateful.
Where are you, Poppy? Ive been looking through the lists for two years, he muttered, but she placed a finger over her lips, urging him quiet.
Ill be back next year, I promise. The last time I left, Vicky was waiting at the station, we married, had a little boy named Sam. I took a job as a wardboy, learned a lot, and now Im determined to fix this place, she said, pulling a blanket tighter.
What can I learn here? This is horrendous! Andrew whined.
Its horrendous, the nurse agreed. Thats why I wanted to be a doctor, to change things. This hospital is a dumpmould, drafts, no proper care.
Break it down, break the whole lot! Andrew shouted, pounding the blanket with his fist. No more
Tess, calm down! You cant shout like that, she pleaded, patting his arm.
Poppy chuckled, You look like a wizard with a beard, Andrew.
What? Im not a wizard, he retorted, flustered.
She took his hand, led him to a cupboard, and poured tea with ginger biscuits. Dont worry, the doctor here is just tired.
Later, a lanky man named Colin, his hair unkempt, entered the ward. Hed long since given up on his white coat, now a grayishyellow, stained as his life.
Hey, old chap, Andrew said. Did you recognize me? I thought Id vanished!
Yeah, Im still around, Colin laughed weakly. I fought in the war, tried to help people, but there were no supplies. So I gave up, let the younger folk come in, and now Im left with the old ladies. Poppy keeps buzzing about you, like a dragonfly! Shell get into med school, tiny bloke or not, theyll sort it out.
Andrew blushed, Ill teach her, promise.
Colin sighed, Well keep fighting, mate. Write letters, ask for help.
The night fell, and Andrew, now a frail figure, watched the garden outside his window, the overgrown weeds and cracked fence. He thought, Better that Im still here, watching.
Colin, go have breakfast! Poppy called, opening the kitchen door.
Im coming, love, he replied, stepping out.
Andrew, with a strange pride, read the admission list for the fifth time, his eyes finally landing on a name hed long hoped for:
Poppy Whitaker, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker.
Shed been admitted. Now Colin would have his turn soon enough. Andrew, with a sigh, headed back to the icecream trolley, muttering, If I had my mountain of pike and perch, I might just get away with this.
