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‘I’ll take that as a yes. You’ve been with your grandson up at the farm, have you?’
‘The lad needed some help to get all the animals inside. The pasture’s waterlogged.’
‘And when was this?’
‘Day before yesterday.’
‘Okay. This looks as if it hurts.’ Mimi gave Toby no chance to reply, clearly suspecting that he wasn’t about to admit it if it did. ‘I’d like the doctor to take a look at it, and he’ll tell us what needs to be done.’
Toby raised one eyebrow, pursed his lips and regarded Rafe steadily. The effect was something like the assessing stare of his first tutor, back when he was a student. Rafe took his coat off, hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and bent to examine the leg.
‘Yes, there’s some infection there.’ Rafe stated the obvious and tried not to notice that Mimi was rolling her eyes. ‘I’ll get some antibiotics and we’ll dress the wound...’
‘That’s okay. I’ll get them.’ Mimi was on her feet already. ‘I’ll pop in to see Mrs March on the way, and I need to make a phone call.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ Rafe supposed that the visit next door and the phone call were going to be about making sure that Toby was looked in on every day. The wound would heal, but not if he didn’t take care of it. She caught up her coat and breezed through to the front door, leaving Rafe and Toby staring at each other.
‘Nice girl. Reminds me of my Joan.’ Toby broke the silence.
‘This is her?’ Rafe craned over to look at the photograph on the sideboard, and Toby nodded. ‘She’s beautiful.’
‘That she was. Right up until the day she died.’ Toby’s eyes lingered for a moment on the image. ‘Had a temper, like your girl.’
‘She’s not my girl. We’re just working together.’
Toby gave a short barked laugh. ‘My Joan and me, we used to argue like cat and dog, but we never let the sun go down
on a quarrel. Five kids to show for it, and twelve grandkids.’
‘Sounds like good advice.’ Rafe wondered what Toby would think of letting things simmer for five years.
‘It is. You and your girl...’
‘She’s not my girl, Toby.’
‘Aye. Well, take your eyes off her when she’s not looking, and look her in the face when she is, and then I might believe you.’
There was no answer to that. Not one that Rafe could think of anyway, and that allowed Toby to warm to his theme.
‘Sun’s almost down. Puts you on borrowed time.’
Rafe had been congratulating himself that, whatever their private differences, neither he nor Mimi had allowed them to bleed into their work and they’d remained entirely professional in front of their patients. But it appeared that he’d been mistaken.
‘It’s...complicated.’ Rafe decided that denials weren’t going to work this time. Toby might be elderly, but that was no reason to treat him as if he was stupid.
‘No, it’s not. You find a girl you like and, if she likes you, you lead her up the hill to the church.’ Toby folded his arms in a gesture of finality.
The front door slammed, saving Rafe from the difficult task of working out how to answer that. Mimi’s footsteps sounded in the hall and Toby twisted around in his seat as she appeared in the kitchen doorway.
‘Right. I’ve spoken to Mrs March and she’s given me your daughter’s number.’ She waved a piece of paper at Toby and put the dressings down on the table, avoiding Rafe’s gaze when he went to thank her. He wondered if she watched him when he wasn’t looking, and wished he’d thought to ask Toby.
‘Are you going to call her, or would you like me to do it?’ Mimi gave Toby her most persuasive smile.
‘Since you’ve come all this way, best you do something.’ Toby’s retort was accompanied by a slight gleam in his eye.
‘Yeah, right. Because you wouldn’t want me to be bored while the doctor sees to your leg.’ Mimi grinned at him good-humouredly and pulled out her phone, turning her back on Rafe as she dialled the number.
He had been about to ask Mimi to assist him, but apparently he was going to have to juggle scissors, tape and a dressing pad on his own. That wasn’t what worried Rafe. What worried him was the feeling that he and Mimi weren’t so much working together as working in close proximity to each other.
