Quintin Jardine - For The Death Of Me

She was as relieved as the rest of us, and she’d had a sleepless night too. Prim was with her: she had called her an hour before, asking anxiously for any news. I was touched that she’d been as scared as the rest of us, but I was struck too by something else, the ease with which she seemed to have fitted back into our circle, in spite of her efforts to wreck me a year earlier. It spoke volumes about something, but at that moment I was too damn tired to figure out what it was.

I slept for the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon; in fact, it took Conrad’s knock at the door to waken me. ‘Time to get ready, Oz,’ he called, ‘if you still want to see your nephews, that is.’ I had agreed with Ellie that we would take Mary’s car and pick her up from St Andrews. Harvey was in court in Edinburgh that day and she would go home with him. I reckoned that Mary would want to be closer to Dad for the next few days, as, indeed, I did, so I had asked Conrad to book three suites in the Caley Hotel.

It’s amazing how much better you look when you’re a super-resilient old bastard and you don’t have a pipe down your throat and a tube up your knob. I’m not saying that Mac the Dentist looked as if he’d be on the golf course any time soon when we saw him at six that evening, but he was several hundred per cent improved on the version we’d seen in the morning.

We didn’t crowd his small room. . he wasn’t given private treatment because of me but because he had health insurance to pick up the tab. Instead I let Mary and Ellie go in first, then followed when they’d had ten minutes.

‘You’re here, are you?’ he croaked. ‘I must have been fucking near the wooden waistcoat, then.’ There was that old twinkle in his eye, one which, I feared for a while I’d never see again.

‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ I told him. ‘You ever give me another night like that and you’ll wish you had pegged it.’ I wanted to hug him, but since that was out of the question, I contented myself with sitting by his bedside, taking his hand and holding it against my face. ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.

‘Damn silly question, son, if you don’t mind me saying so. At the moment it’s as if somebody’s shaved my chest with a chain-saw, but I’m sure it’ll get worse in the days to come. I think I preferred it when I was dead.’

‘What did you score anyway?’

‘Net sixty-nine: I birdied the last two holes. It was probably holing that last putt that did it.’

‘That’s not what the consultant told me. He said it could have happened at any point of any round you’ve ever played.’

‘You might never have been born in that case.’ He looked up at me, suddenly solemn. ‘How’s Mary handling it?’

‘She’s fine now.’

‘Good, good. Losing her daughter and her husband within the space of a few years wouldn’t have been much fun. Tell you something,’ he whispered, ‘that I hope you’ll appreciate. When I was in Never-never Land, I saw Jan. I remember it quite clearly. She was on the other side of a bridge: she waved to me and she called out, “Hello, Uncle Mac,” like she used to when she was a kid. I never could work out how Alex More could up and leave a daughter like her and a wife like Mary. Stupid bastard. . not that I’m complaining, mind.’

‘You’ve done okay out of it. Now shut the fuck up and don’t tire yourself out.’

I didn’t really need to tell him that: he was so heavily sedated that it wasn’t long before he drifted off, back into the curious, wacky, private world of the heroin medicated.

He was better next day, more alert, and as he had predicted, obviously less comfortable as the pain-killing dope was lessened.

The day after that, he was out of bed in a chair.

The third day after his op he was shuffling around in his slippers and we were able to have a longer talk, during which I persuaded him to agree to something I’d been pressing on him for a while. He could have retired years before, and become a full-time golfer. He hadn’t, not because he needed extra years on his pension but because, as a dentist in a rural practice, he felt a loyalty to his patients. I’d tried the loyalty-to-Mary gambit often enough before, but he’d pointed out in his inimitable way that she was a patient too, and that my argument had just disappeared up its own arse.

This time, though, I had a stronger hand in the poker game between us. ‘You’re going to have to get a locum in,’ I said casually.

‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘Don’t bloody know how I’m going to go about it from here, though.’

‘It’s done,’ I told him. ‘A woman called Carol Salt starts tomorrow, that’s Monday, if you’ve lost track of time. She lives in Crail, she’s thirty-four, and she’s looking to get back into practice now that her second child’s going to nursery.’

‘How the hell did you. .?’

‘I asked Conrad, a couple of days ago, to speak to the health board. They came up with her name straight away and I gave her a call. I saw her yesterday and we agreed terms. She’s coming in on a locum basis initially, with a view to buying the practice.’

He drew me one of the longest looks I’ve ever had from him. ‘I just love it when you get authoritative,’ he drawled drily. ‘Is that Dallas Salt’s daughter?’

‘That’s her; he practised in Dunfermline, didn’t he?’

‘Aye, but he’d gone private before he retired. I heard that he offered to hand over to her but she turned him down.’

‘That’s right. She told me that she believes in the NHS and wants to work in it.’

‘Good for her, then. But tell her to forget about buying the practice: if she wants it, once she’s seen what fills my waiting room, she can have it. My patients aren’t a commodity to be sold. She can pay me a fair rent for the surgery, but that’ll be that.’

I grinned at him. He thought it was triumph, but it was pride: I’d known he’d say that, but I hadn’t volunteered it to Carol.

‘Right,’ he said, sipping from a glass of water,‘now you’ve sorted out my life, it’s time you got back to your own.’

‘I know. Your surgeon’s told me you’re now officially on the convalescent list, so I’ve booked a plane back to Cannes on Tuesday.’

‘A plane.’ He shook his head, then winced. ‘My son, hiring bloody planes. Why don’t you just buy one?’

‘Not one, a fleet, actually; Susie and I have been thinking about buying an air-charter company. There’s money to be made there.’

‘Get away with you. You don’t know what to get up to next, you two.’ He frowned. ‘Have you heard from Tom’s mum lately?’ The question took me by surprise but he’s always been good at that. My dad’s always had a fondness for Primavera; he didn’t know the whole story of what happened last year, only that she was a bit silly and got banged up for deception, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have shut her out. Like son, like father, I suppose.

‘Last Wednesday, as it happens. She came out to Monaco to visit him. She was as cut up as the rest of us when she heard what happened; she sends her love.’

‘You give her mine too, when Susie’s not listening.’ He winked. ‘You got the rest of the summer off?’

‘Yes, just like you. Once you’re out of here, by the way, I want you and Mary, and Jonny and Colin, through at Loch Lomond. There’s a pool to swim in and plenty of ground to walk around. It’ll be good for your recovery.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘You will, for sure. I’ve told Mary and Jonny to make sure it happens.’

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘if my oldest grandchild’s on-side, I’d better go along with it. He’s grown into a formidable young man.’

‘That he has. He has a formidable girl-friend too; his mum’s a bit worried about that, if you know what I mean.’