curls, both of which had long since vanished into a balding high forehead, and a rather corpulent but still imposing figure.
A happily married man, now with an elevated position as physician to the royal household, I was witnessing a new side to my stepbrother’s personality. I realised that sex is not something we recognise in our siblings and this was a very different Vince, a man who was undoubtedly attractive and very successful with the ladies, and without question most appealing to his female patients.
The Balmoral visit, where he and Elma had first met, was casually mentioned. Then, as her face clouded, Vince offered sympathy for her husband’s appalling accident at which she switched to her usual angry comments. Not regarding his treatment in hospital, but her own reception and the extraordinary behaviour of those in charge of Felix, to say nothing of the grim presence of a policeman at his bedside.
Vince listened, an occasional shake of his head indicating silent condemnation of such outrageous behaviour.
‘I am so sorry, Mrs Rice. Is there something I can do for you? Would you like me to go in and have a look at him?’
She considered this for a moment, and then said slowly, ‘Oh, would you do that, Dr Laurie?’ And clasping her hands, ‘Yes, indeed. I would be so grateful. Obviously, with all your influence, they could not refuse to admit a
royal
physician.’
And as Vince shrugged modestly, she added, ‘I am sure they would never deny you the right to see someone you had met in Her
Majesty’s
presence at Balmoral Castle.’
The talk turned to how long Vince was staying and so it was arranged that Vince would visit Felix the next day.
I was certain, and so I imagine was Elma, that she would accompany him, but as if anticipating this suggestion, he said, ‘In the first instance I believe it would be more effective if I saw him in private, in my professional capacity, being acquainted with their patient and so forth.’
Elma agreed a little reluctantly and it was arranged that she should wait in the reception area and, when the moment was appropriate after Vince’s consultation with the doctors, once again pay her usual melancholy visit to her husband’s bedside.
She left us soon afterwards.
We watched her cross the garden and head towards the hill, with Rufus bounding ahead, barking fiercely.
Turning to Vince, I asked, ‘Any second thoughts?’
He gave me a quizzical glance. ‘What do you mean, “second thoughts”?’
‘I gather at first meeting you were not particularly impressed, and I am wondering whether, on closer acquaintance, your opinion has now improved?’
He grinned. ‘I think she plays her part as the adoring wife very well indeed.’
‘You think that’s an act,’ I said indignantly. ‘What a horrid thing to say, Vince. Quite unworthy of you.’
He made a modifying gesture, shook his head. ‘Perhaps she is as sincere as she appears in her affection. After all, it is not until we lose someone close to us that we realise their true worth. And in Mrs Rice’s case that worth is considerable – a vast fortune is involved.’
I felt disappointed. ‘That is extremely cynical, Vince. Not much evidence of your usual kindness of heart.’
He smiled. ‘And you, my dearest Rose, are once more a victim of your excess of that particular quality.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I demanded.
He shook his head. ‘Only that you have known MrsRice a very short while. What is it – weeks, rather than months and years?’
I felt angry and misjudged, wanting very much for him to like my new friend, but Vince carefully forestalled me. Observing my expression and guessing as of old that I was going to argue, he stood up and said, ‘It’s a lovely day, and do you know what I would like?’
I shook my head, still annoyed with him.
‘I would love to visit the funfair down the road,’ he said. ‘We had the circus, of course, at Balmoral, but I haven’t been at a funfair for
A happily married man, now with an elevated position as physician to the royal household, I was witnessing a new side to my stepbrother’s personality. I realised that sex is not something we recognise in our siblings and this was a very different Vince, a man who was undoubtedly attractive and very successful with the ladies, and without question most appealing to his female patients.
The Balmoral visit, where he and Elma had first met, was casually mentioned. Then, as her face clouded, Vince offered sympathy for her husband’s appalling accident at which she switched to her usual angry comments. Not regarding his treatment in hospital, but her own reception and the extraordinary behaviour of those in charge of Felix, to say nothing of the grim presence of a policeman at his bedside.
Vince listened, an occasional shake of his head indicating silent condemnation of such outrageous behaviour.
‘I am so sorry, Mrs Rice. Is there something I can do for you? Would you like me to go in and have a look at him?’
She considered this for a moment, and then said slowly, ‘Oh, would you do that, Dr Laurie?’ And clasping her hands, ‘Yes, indeed. I would be so grateful. Obviously, with all your influence, they could not refuse to admit a
royal
physician.’
And as Vince shrugged modestly, she added, ‘I am sure they would never deny you the right to see someone you had met in Her
Majesty’s
presence at Balmoral Castle.’
The talk turned to how long Vince was staying and so it was arranged that Vince would visit Felix the next day.
I was certain, and so I imagine was Elma, that she would accompany him, but as if anticipating this suggestion, he said, ‘In the first instance I believe it would be more effective if I saw him in private, in my professional capacity, being acquainted with their patient and so forth.’
Elma agreed a little reluctantly and it was arranged that she should wait in the reception area and, when the moment was appropriate after Vince’s consultation with the doctors, once again pay her usual melancholy visit to her husband’s bedside.
She left us soon afterwards.
We watched her cross the garden and head towards the hill, with Rufus bounding ahead, barking fiercely.
Turning to Vince, I asked, ‘Any second thoughts?’
He gave me a quizzical glance. ‘What do you mean, “second thoughts”?’
‘I gather at first meeting you were not particularly impressed, and I am wondering whether, on closer acquaintance, your opinion has now improved?’
He grinned. ‘I think she plays her part as the adoring wife very well indeed.’
‘You think that’s an act,’ I said indignantly. ‘What a horrid thing to say, Vince. Quite unworthy of you.’
He made a modifying gesture, shook his head. ‘Perhaps she is as sincere as she appears in her affection. After all, it is not until we lose someone close to us that we realise their true worth. And in Mrs Rice’s case that worth is considerable – a vast fortune is involved.’
I felt disappointed. ‘That is extremely cynical, Vince. Not much evidence of your usual kindness of heart.’
He smiled. ‘And you, my dearest Rose, are once more a victim of your excess of that particular quality.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I demanded.
He shook his head. ‘Only that you have known MrsRice a very short while. What is it – weeks, rather than months and years?’
I felt angry and misjudged, wanting very much for him to like my new friend, but Vince carefully forestalled me. Observing my expression and guessing as of old that I was going to argue, he stood up and said, ‘It’s a lovely day, and do you know what I would like?’
I shook my head, still annoyed with him.
‘I would love to visit the funfair down the road,’ he said. ‘We had the circus, of course, at Balmoral, but I haven’t been at a funfair for
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