CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Christmas

The saving of Sam Bevan greatly increased Andrew’s popularity. He received smiles from people who had taken no notice of him before. Medical cards began to come back to him.

Owen was delighted, ‘Didn’t I tell you that this would happen?’ he said.

Andrew’s new degree also improved his position in the town. Denny, now abroad, did not yet know about his success. But Freddie Hamson wrote to Andrew to say how pleased he was.

‘It’s a pity that we never see Freddie nowadays.’ Andrew remarked to Christine. ‘Hasn’t he written a nice letter?’

‘Yes, very nice – but most of it is about himself!’ Christine replied.

The next few weeks passed very happily. On the evening before Christmas, Andrew returned home from the surgery with a pleasant feeling of peace and goodwill. As he entered the house, he saw at once that Christine had the same feeling.

‘Shut your eyes and come with me!’ she said, holding out her hand.

She led him into the kitchen, where, on the table, lay a number of packages, each with a little note. Andrew realized at once that these were presents from his patients.

‘Look, Andrew!’ Christine cried. ‘A chicken and two ducks! And a lovely cake! And a bottle of wine! Isn’t it kind of them? Isn’t it nice that they want to give you these presents?’

For a moment he could not speak. This generous sign that the people of Aberalaw had begun to like him touched him deeply.

Walking up and down the kitchen, he said: ‘That’s how poor people should always pay their doctor, Chris. No money, no bills! If a patient is poor, let him give the doctor something that he can afford. If every doctor stopped thinking about how much money he could make, the whole system would be better.’

‘Yes, dear.’

Next morning, Christmas Day, was fine and bright. After breakfast, Andrew went out to see his patients. Dinners were cooking in all the little houses, and his own was cooking at home. In every street, people called out:

‘Happy Christmas, Doctor!’

Their cheerful behaviour, so different from that of a year ago, made Andrew very happy.

Except for Chenkin, whom he did not want, the only patient who had not come back to him was Tom Evans. Andrew suddenly decided to call on Evans and wish him a happy Christmas. After knocking once, he opened the front door and walked straight into the kitchen. There, he had a shock. The kitchen was almost empty; and Evans was sitting on a broken chair in front of a miserable fire that gave no heat. On his knee sat his little girl, who was four years old.

Suddenly Evans turned and saw Andrew. An expression of shame and anger spread across his face. Andrew saw that Evans was ashamed at being found in such a state by the doctor whose advice he had refused. Andrew felt sad and awkward; he wanted to turn and go away. But, at that moment, Mrs Evans entered the kitchen.

She was so surprised to see Andrew that she cried out: ‘What’s the matter, sir? He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?’

‘Mrs Evans,’ Andrew replied, looking down at the floor, ‘I would like us to be friends. It’s Christmas, and – well, I would be so pleased if the three of you would come round and help us to eat our Christmas dinner.’

‘But, Doctor-‘ she began.

‘You be quiet!’ Evans interrupted her angrily. ‘We don’t want help from anybody!’

‘What do you mean? I’m inviting you as a friend,’ said Andrew

‘Eat your Christmas dinner yourself!’ Evans shouted. ‘We don’t want it.’

Andrew turned to Mrs Evans. ‘You persuade him, Mrs Evans. I shall be really sorry if you don’t come. We’ll expect you at half past one.’

Before either of them could reply, he left the house.

The Evans family arrived, washed and brushed and looking very uncomfortable. At first it seemed as if the Christmas dinner would be a failure. But then, by good fortune, Andrew accidentally upset his soup on to the table. There was a silence. Then the little girl burst out laughing. The next minute, they were all laughing.

After the meal, Christine led Mrs Evans and the child into the living room, leaving Andrew alone with Evans. The two men sat in silence for a time. Then Andrew said: ‘I’m sorry about your arm, Tom.’

‘You’re not as sorry as I am,’ Evans replied.

There was a pause. Then Andrew continued: ‘Will you allow me to speak to Mr Vaughan about you? I have a little influence with him, and I feel certain that I could persuade him to find you some easier work to do.’

Evans did not answer. He said nothing. He was in tears; his whole body was shaking.

At half past three the Evans family left and Christine and Andrew went into the living room.

‘You know, Chris,’ Andrew said, ‘that poor man lost the use of his arm because of Oxborrow. He’s the man to blame! When Evans left me, he went to Oxborrow who gave him the wrong treatment. Oxborrow knows nothing – nothing! There ought to be a law to-‘

‘Andrew, dear!’ Christine smiled at him from her chair. ‘Do stop talking about your work. I want to tell you something important!’

‘Yes?’

She laughed silently. ‘Come over here.’

He sat on the chair beside her. ‘Well? What is this great news?’

She gave another little laugh. ‘Andrew – I’m going to have a baby.’

‘A baby? Really? You mean…’

‘Yes. I’ve been trying to tell you all day.’