Free A Late Phoenix by Catherine Aird

have?”
    â€œMasters were a young couple with small children at the time and the Draycotts had a daughter who would have been in her twenties then.”
    â€œI was wondering if the cellars had been common to both houses.”
    â€œMarjorie.” Miss Tyrell smiled faintly. “Marjorie Draycott. She isn’t your skeleton, Doctor. Far from it. You’ve met her already.”
    â€œI have? When?”
    â€œShe’s Marjorie Simmonds now.”
    â€œMrs. Simmonds! Well, I never. Not the one who’s so overweight and worried about it?” There had been positively nothing skeletal about the woman he had in mind. “Yesterday morning’s surgery …”
    â€œThat’s right.” Miss Tyrell’s thin face twitched a trifle acidly. “Fair, fifteen stone, forty-five, five children …”
    â€œThe classic gallbladder picture,” murmured William academically. It had been really rather interesting to see a textbook case come alive so vividly.
    â€œYou gave her a lot of advice …”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œShe won’t take it.”
    â€œNo,” agreed William. He sounded apologetic. “I have a duty to give it nevertheless. The choice about taking it is hers. The patients’ freehold, you might call it.”
    Miss Tyrell looked blank.
    William hastily went back to the visiting list in front of him. “I’ve seen Gilbert Hodge. He’s agreed to see a surgeon about his ulcer. Will you fix him up with an appointment at the hospital?”
    Miss Tyrell snorted. “I didn’t think he’d want Vittoria Street even though he’s one of the richest men in Berebury. And definitely the meanest,” she added. “Long pockets and short arms, that’s his trouble.”
    â€œHe doesn’t look well off …”
    â€œDon’t let that fool you, Doctor. He owns a string of shops, no end of other property and a couple of small businesses and that’s all without counting his builders’ merchant’s yard.” She sniffed. “That’s not small either. Two acres at least.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œAnd he started from nothing at all after the war. With his gratuity. First these building things and then property speculation. He gets Mark Reddley to do the developing side and Garton to build.” Miss Tyrell’s lips tightened. “Before the war, Doctor, all he was was a storeman at Corton’s.”
    â€œI saw Jane Appleby, too …”
    Miss Tyrell’s face softened momentarily. “A nice girl. Always was. Many’s the time I’ve had her on my knee as a baby.”
    William took a second look at Miss Tyrell and tried to imagine her in this maternal role.
    He failed.
    â€œWhat about Mrs. Caldwell?” she asked.
    â€œNothing doing,” said William. “Not today, anyway. I might just look round there after supper …” Mentioning supper brought Mrs. Milligan—that execrable cook—to his mind. He didn’t know how long he could put up with her. He asked how long she’d been with Dr. Tarde before he died.
    â€œOnly a month.”
    â€œAnd before that?”
    Miss Tyrell’s expression eased. “He had Mrs. Cardington. She died in May. She’d been here for years and years. She had a heart attack and went quite suddenly. Of course, she wasn’t young any more …”
    â€œWhat about Dr. Tarde’s wife?” enquired William. He’d done his business with an executor, a second cousin who was a solicitor somewhere in the North of England. “And children?”
    She shook her head. “His wife died soon after they were married. Before my time. They didn’t have any children. There was just his niece Margaret.” Miss Tyrell pursed her lips. “She liked to be called Margot. She was his wife’s sister’s girl. She used to spend a fair bit of time here in the old days but she went off