Mimi swallowed the temptation to tell him that the tea was intended for their patient. Picking the kettle up and finding it empty, she went to fill it up at the sink.
* * *
Rafe stood at the end of the path, surveying the small cottage for any signs of life, and Mimi knocked on the door again. No answer.
‘I don’t suppose we’ve got the wrong address...?’
‘Nope. This is the right one.’ Mimi bent down to shout through the letterbox. ‘Toby. Open the door.’
Obviously she’d been here before. Or maybe she knew the elderly man who lived here. They’d been summoned by a concerned neighbour, who had noticed that he was limping and had seen an infected sore on his leg.
‘Do you think he might not be able to get to the door?’ Rafe suggested, wondering if they were going to have to break in.
‘Shouldn’t think so. He’s probably hiding out in the kitchen.’ Mimi walked to the side of the cottage, squeezing through the narrow space between the wall and a waterlogged hedge, and Rafe followed, avoiding the branches that sprung back behind her.
She clambered over a low wall, walking past a small kitchen garden to the back door. He stopped and waited, reckoning that Mimi probably knew what she was doing. She pressed her face against the glass, rattling the handle.
‘Toby, open up.’
There was a short pause, and Mimi banged on the door again. Then it opened, to reveal an elderly man.
‘You might have said it was you...’
‘Can we come in, Toby?’
‘You’d better. You’ll catch your death out there.’
Mimi entered and Rafe hung back from the door as Toby eyed him suspiciously.
‘This is Dr Chapman.’
‘Where’s the other lad?’
‘Jack’s up at the top of the hill, in Holme. He’s a bit tied up at the moment.’
Toby nodded sagely and beckoned Rafe inside. A black and white collie was sleeping by the fire and raised its head to inspect the visitors, then rested it back onto its front paws. The little kitchen was old-fashioned, yet clean and neat as a new pin.
‘What can I do for you?’ Toby sat down at the kitchen table, its polished surface dark and pitted from years of use.
‘Mrs March called us. She says you’ve got something wrong with your leg.’ Mimi’s tone was firm, but she was smiling.
‘It’s nothing.’ The old man’s chin jutted in a show of defiance. His face was like the surface of the table, dark from years spent in the open air, with deep lines at the side of his eyes.
‘No, probably not. But the thing is, now I’m here I have to have a look at it. Those are the rules.’
‘And him?’ Toby gestured in Rafe’s direction.
Mimi looked around, a trace of the smile that she’d bestowed on Toby still lingering on her face. After the uneasy truce between them, which seemed to have started to crumble as soon as it was made, it was like a ray of sunshine. ‘Yeah, he’s got to look at it as well.’
Toby sniffed. ‘One of you not good enough, then.’
Mimi directed a bright grin at Toby and the old man’s face softened. ‘Come on, Toby. Give me a break, eh?’
Toby shrugged and Mimi knelt down in front of him, pulling a pair of gloves from her pocket and carefully rolling Toby’s trouser leg up. Halfway up his calf, a large sore blazed red against the pallor of his skin.
‘Have you been wading in flood water?’ Mimi voiced the first question which occurred to Rafe. Flood water frequently carried a high concentration of bacteria, and in the circumstances it was the most likely candidate for turning a small injury into an angry, obviously infected wound like this.
‘Mebbe...’ Toby shrugged non-committally.