over and everything else. I
believe the garden is a’ to be done over as weel, a’ the lawns reseeded, and the broken stonework built up.’
‘Good enough. Maybe we’ll have the duke back as our neighbour.’
‘Seriously, sir, that’s the talk in the town. For him or the duchess for, as ye ken weel, at one time it was their hoose.’
As Finlay moved away, Janet, who had been listening to the conversation called out: ‘Sir! Did he say when the duchess would move in?’
‘Not until you’ve had news of it, Janet.’
Having delivered this long-delayed compliment, Finlay looked in at the surgery to assure himself that Dr Cameron was dealing with a manageable number of patients and then walked casually along
the Gielston Road to see if the burn was running full enough to be fishable. Never had he felt so well, so much master of himself and, in plain truth, the practice, as if he had become the head
doctor and not Dr Cameron, with his bogus appendix stuck on the mantelpiece.
As the days passed, the old house next door, so long neglected, began to re-emerge, recreated as the beautiful residence it once had been. Not pretentiously large but perfect in structure and
design. So, too, with the garden which began to bloom in company with the house with green lawns, replanted flower beds and a paved walk down the side of the house, which would give access to both
the side door and the sunken garage, also with a paved courtyard.
Steadily the house advanced towards completion and still Janet had failed to pierce the mystery of the new owner. The lawn was now a mass of primroses, daffodils and crocuses.
‘Dr Finlay, sir,’ said Janet one morning. ‘I’ve had the great privilege of seeing inside the hoose . Early this morning one of the workmen, Jock Blair, let me in to
look round, and I can tell you, from what I have seen with my own eyes, that it’s absolutely lovely. All the fine antique furniture has been polished, and the wonderful carpets spread out
– Jock tellt me they was frae Persia and Turkey, and worth a pretty price. Mind ye, sir, when ye’re inside it dinna seem big, it’s as snug as can be. I’m sure it’s the
duchess who has bought it. I’ll keep my eye skinned to see when she arrives.’
Spring had now come and with the onset of the warm weather the restored house and resplendent garden did indeed become a delight to the eye. All the workmen had left, and it stood alone in its
beauty. As the practice was light Finlay would stroll up and down after breakfast enjoying the perfect scene, often joined by Janet who, with a lively interest, awaited the arrival of the
duchess.
One morning a car appeared quite suddenly, rounding the far corner. It was a big, shining, continental car, and one of the highest quality. The lady at the wheel drew up at the kerb and stepped
nimbly out, enabling the onlookers to observe that she was quite lovely and fashionably attired in a smart grey dress, scarlet silk scarf and a fetching black toque. After having scanned the house
intently, she turned, ran up to Finlay and flung herself into his arms. Showering him with passionate kisses, she murmured, ‘My dearest darling! At last, at last! And forever!’
Janet, shocked out of her wits, uttered a mild shriek. ‘Oh God! The duchess is kissing our Finlay! Kissing and kissing him.’ And with a final strangled cry she ran like mad into her
kitchen.
Meanwhile the lovers continued to cling to each other in a close embrace.
‘Oh, Grace, my darling. I felt this would never come true. For years I have wept for you, longed for you . . .’
‘And now I am yours, my dearest, most faithful love. Our son has told me how you wept for me.’
‘Ever since our first tender kisses, I have loved, loved only you, and no other woman.’
‘Well, now, my darling Finlay, your fidelity will be rewarded. Come and look through the lovely home I have bought for us.’
Encircling his waist with her arm she led him to the
believe the garden is a’ to be done over as weel, a’ the lawns reseeded, and the broken stonework built up.’
‘Good enough. Maybe we’ll have the duke back as our neighbour.’
‘Seriously, sir, that’s the talk in the town. For him or the duchess for, as ye ken weel, at one time it was their hoose.’
As Finlay moved away, Janet, who had been listening to the conversation called out: ‘Sir! Did he say when the duchess would move in?’
‘Not until you’ve had news of it, Janet.’
Having delivered this long-delayed compliment, Finlay looked in at the surgery to assure himself that Dr Cameron was dealing with a manageable number of patients and then walked casually along
the Gielston Road to see if the burn was running full enough to be fishable. Never had he felt so well, so much master of himself and, in plain truth, the practice, as if he had become the head
doctor and not Dr Cameron, with his bogus appendix stuck on the mantelpiece.
As the days passed, the old house next door, so long neglected, began to re-emerge, recreated as the beautiful residence it once had been. Not pretentiously large but perfect in structure and
design. So, too, with the garden which began to bloom in company with the house with green lawns, replanted flower beds and a paved walk down the side of the house, which would give access to both
the side door and the sunken garage, also with a paved courtyard.
Steadily the house advanced towards completion and still Janet had failed to pierce the mystery of the new owner. The lawn was now a mass of primroses, daffodils and crocuses.
‘Dr Finlay, sir,’ said Janet one morning. ‘I’ve had the great privilege of seeing inside the hoose . Early this morning one of the workmen, Jock Blair, let me in to
look round, and I can tell you, from what I have seen with my own eyes, that it’s absolutely lovely. All the fine antique furniture has been polished, and the wonderful carpets spread out
– Jock tellt me they was frae Persia and Turkey, and worth a pretty price. Mind ye, sir, when ye’re inside it dinna seem big, it’s as snug as can be. I’m sure it’s the
duchess who has bought it. I’ll keep my eye skinned to see when she arrives.’
Spring had now come and with the onset of the warm weather the restored house and resplendent garden did indeed become a delight to the eye. All the workmen had left, and it stood alone in its
beauty. As the practice was light Finlay would stroll up and down after breakfast enjoying the perfect scene, often joined by Janet who, with a lively interest, awaited the arrival of the
duchess.
One morning a car appeared quite suddenly, rounding the far corner. It was a big, shining, continental car, and one of the highest quality. The lady at the wheel drew up at the kerb and stepped
nimbly out, enabling the onlookers to observe that she was quite lovely and fashionably attired in a smart grey dress, scarlet silk scarf and a fetching black toque. After having scanned the house
intently, she turned, ran up to Finlay and flung herself into his arms. Showering him with passionate kisses, she murmured, ‘My dearest darling! At last, at last! And forever!’
Janet, shocked out of her wits, uttered a mild shriek. ‘Oh God! The duchess is kissing our Finlay! Kissing and kissing him.’ And with a final strangled cry she ran like mad into her
kitchen.
Meanwhile the lovers continued to cling to each other in a close embrace.
‘Oh, Grace, my darling. I felt this would never come true. For years I have wept for you, longed for you . . .’
‘And now I am yours, my dearest, most faithful love. Our son has told me how you wept for me.’
‘Ever since our first tender kisses, I have loved, loved only you, and no other woman.’
‘Well, now, my darling Finlay, your fidelity will be rewarded. Come and look through the lovely home I have bought for us.’
Encircling his waist with her arm she led him to the
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