Dr Finlay's Casebook by AJ Cronin Read Free Book Online Page B

warmly.
    This was too much for everyone. Even Janet, who had been listening at the door, went away cackling to the kitchen. At last Finlay said, ‘How good of you to come first to me, Bess. Will you
take tea here? Or would you like me to drive you home?’
    ‘Home, darling,’ said Bess.
    Janet, watching from the window as they piled into the car, threw up her hands and wailed:
    ‘That’s Finlay for ye! After I’ve made him a lovely tea, wi’ the treacle scones he’s sae fond o’, he’s off like a flash and I’ll no’ see him
till his evening surgery. Ah weel! I canna waste such a lovely tea, I’ll just sit down in the kitchen, stir up the fire and eat it a’ masel’.’

Dr Cameron’s Appendix
    Lovely autumnal weather was blessing Tannochbrae with blue skies and bright sunshine that warmed the crisp, cool air. Of course, the practice was always busy at this time of
year but, as he sat down to a good breakfast of porridge and sweet milk followed by grilled kippers and toast, Finlay felt that he might manage to get off to the moors with his new gun for an hour
in the early afternoon. As Janet brought in his second kipper he remarked pleasantly, ‘I’m surprised that Dr Cameron has not appeared for breakfast – he loves a morning like
this.’
    ‘No, Dr Finlay,’ Janet formally replied. ‘Our chief is not down yet. In plain truth I question if he will come down at all. When I took in his morning coffee and his shaving
water he was still in his bed, without a word, layin’ there prostitate.’
    ‘Prostrate, surely, dear Janet,’ Finlay corrected with a laugh.
    ‘It may amuse you, Dr Finlay. But if you had seen him, ye might have thought it was no laughing matter.’
    Finlay was certainly not laughing at his chief’s indisposition, slight though it may be. He knew very well that Dr Cameron was essential to their joint practice; not only to take over a
fair portion of the work, but to lend his authority and support in all important and difficult decisions.
    With this in mind, Finlay, having downed his second kipper, and third cup of coffee, hurried upstairs to his chief’s room, expecting to find him shaving, a lengthy and serious task with,
of course, the open blade.
    Dr Cameron had risen from his bed, and though unwashed and unshaven, was trying to dress himself in his full professional attire. The will was obviously there, but when he saw Finlay, the worthy
old doctor staggered slightly, just saving himself from falling by a dramatic clutch at the big wooden end of his bed.
    ‘No, sir, you must not get up. Not under any circumstances.’ And supporting him with both arms Finlay laid him back again on the bed, studying him with an anxious eye.
    ‘I’m heart-sorry to bother you, dear Finlay, but I don’t feel quite up to the mark this morning.’
    ‘Do you have any pain, sir?’
    ‘Some twinges in the left lower abdomen.’
    ‘Let me have a look, sir.’ As Finlay gently passed his hand over the affected area his chief winced perceptibly. ‘Is there any stiffness there, lad?’
    As Finlay gently touched it with the flat of his hand, the muscle stiffened and became tense.
    ‘It seems to me, sir, that your appendix is involved.’
    The sufferer emitted a sigh that was half a groan.
    ‘That damned appendix of mine has been troubling me off and on for years.’
    ‘Surely you think it time for you to have it out, sir?’
    ‘What! At a time like this, the turn of the seasons, one of our busiest o’ the entire year?’
    ‘But sir, when your health is concerned . . .’
    ‘Do you think I would lie down now, give up at our busiest time o’ the year?’
    ‘But, sir . . .’
    ‘Leave you to carry the whole weight o’ the practice on your own back, with anything up to thirty cases to visit every day; and the surgery chock-full every morning and night, and
odd times o’ the day as weel! Never, Finlay. I’d see myself in my grave first.’
    Ignoring this panegyric Finlay produced his