21st April 1940

I’ve spent most of today in bed, being spoon fed brandy by Joan and sleeping inbetween.  I had no sleep at all last night but I feel awake now and I want to write down everything that happened.

Dr B collected me at the station, like he said he would.  He was so attentive, I had a rug tucked round my knees and he had a couple of flasks in easy reach, one with tea in and the other with whiskey, which I will never drink again as long as I live.  I can still smell it now.  It was on his breath.  He drove us for miles, right out of town, up into the hills and then a bit further.  I thought we might end up back at home, but we turned off and went the other way towards Wyke.  After a bit we stopped at a big wayside pub.  One of those big modern looking ones set back from the main road with a car park and everything.  So we went inside and it was lovely.  He’d even booked a table for us to have a three course meal.  I let him choose what we had – some locally caught fish then a lovely pudding with custard!  He said we should have wine with our meal so I had a big glass.  After that he took me into the bar and got me a gin.  After the wine I felt all relaxed and didn’t really worry about having too much and what might happen.  He seemed to be sat closer and closer to me until he was practically on my knee.  He ordered me  another gin and then whispered in my ear that he was in love with me and would I like to take a room for the night?  I just didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t expecting that at all and I dashed to the ladies’ room to catch my breath and think what to do.  I had decided  to insist that he drive me home that instant and went back to the bar when I saw that there was a commotion  around the table where we had been sitting.  As I got near I saw that Dr B was just slumped, face down onto the table with his arms dangling down by his sides.  A young woman pushed through them, saying that she was a nurse.  She felt all over for a pulse and couldn’t get one. She said it looked like heart attack.

Well, she was right.  He was taken to the infirmary and I got dropped home by the police, who asked me all sorts of questions about him that I couldn’t answer.  They went to do some investigating and came back later to tell me that he had died of a heart attack and also that he was married with four children.  Mrs F was cross that her evening got spoilt and Joan has been giving me her disapproving look.  I think it will be in a newspaper and what if they mention me?  It’s the curse it has to be.  Even Joan says she’s beginning to wonder.