The People's Friend

Had she been listening to our conversati­on all this time?

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“I never get to know people as a locum. Nor how things turn out for them,” he said.

He asked about me and I told him about being overseas and coming back to live in England and how Gran was my roots. He told me he’d gone to boarding school and had spent holidays with his grandmothe­r, too.

“It’s good that your grandmothe­r has someone to take care of her,” he said.

“But she’s taking care of me at the moment!” I squirmed, still cross with myself for being so helpless.

“I’m sure she loves it,” he said.

When he stood up to go, he ran a hand through his hair.

“Well,” he said. “Thank you for the tea. I suppose I should make my way back to my digs and find out what’s for dinner.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

“How are you at peeling onions?” Gran said.

“I shall give them my best bedside manner,” he said solemnly and I laughed again. It felt good.

Talking to Gary was easy and he seemed like a person who’d be straightfo­rward and honest, unlike the twotiming Sam.

I wondered where the good doctor would be based when I was back on my feet. I hoped it would be somewhere not too far away.

As we sat in the kitchen I reflected that I’d told Gran I’d sort out my own romance, although I hadn’t planned on throwing myself down her steps to do it.

Still, I wouldn’t put it past Gran to have put a spell on the stones if she’d thought it would help. She’d do anything for me, my fairy grandmothe­r. n

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