A Kind of Grief by A. D. Scott Page A

was always interfering, especially at the old people’s home, formerly the workhouse, and how she was only helping because she was after some old person’s inheritance. Calum knew, as did most in the district, that this was a Council Home, and people there had nothing. Some didn’t even have visitors, Elaine told him, and they were happy to see Miss Ramsay because she listened to their stories about the old days.
    â€œThe doctor gave evidence for the prosecution. He was their first witness.” Calum was remembering the morning session and how, in spite of his education and his reputation as a good doctor, he did not go over well in the witness box. “Too sure of himself” was his mother’s phrase, and in this case she was right. The defense had torn him to shreds.
    â€œYou have the toxicology report on the mother’s blood?” the fiscal had asked.
    â€œThe patient came to me too late to do tests,” Dr. Jamieson had replied.
    â€œIn other words, no.”
    â€œHerbal concoctions can clear the blood quickly, and—”
    â€œThis herbal concoction Miss Ramsay gave the unfortunate woman, was that identified?’ ”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œIt was Rubus idaeus .”
    â€œOtherwise known as raspberry leaves.”
    â€œYes. It is suspected that in sufficient quantities, and taken early enough in a pregnancy, they can affect the tissue of the womb, causing—”
    â€œSuspected? I see. And in what quantities are we talking about, a cup full, a pint, a gallon?”
    â€œIt’s not an exact science, but a large dosage,” Dr. Jamieson, young, red-haired, impulsive, sure of himself, had now been defeated. Then again, he had not agreed with the charges against Miss Ramsay to begin with.
    â€œNext they called Nurse Ogilvie,” Calum told Joanne.
    â€œFor the defense?”
    â€œNo, the prosecution. But it may as well have been for the defense, for all the good it did the fiscal’s case.”
    â€œMiss Ramsay was in the habit of visiting strangers in the old people’s home, was she not?” had been the first question.
    â€œI’m not sure if you could say they were strangers. Miss Ramsay comes from a well-known family who, up until the war, were major employers hereabouts, so as a child she knew many of the old people she visited, or their families.”
    â€œBut why would she visit them?”
    â€œSimple charity.” Nurse Ogilvie had supplied the answer from her personal standpoint, from her understanding of the Gospels. It had been said with such conviction, such directness, it had taken the procurator fiscal some moments to recover.
    â€œNow, these teas she supplied. Did you know about them?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œDid you approve?”
    â€œI approved of the chamomile tea to calm the nerves. And the cocoa she made in the nurses’ kitchen. And the soups she brought in a flask—chicken soups, vegetable soups. She always made sure they was not too hot, not too cold, and she spoon-fed those who couldn’t manage themselves.”
    â€œYes, yes. But how can you be sure they were not tainted in any way?”
    â€œWhy would they be? Besides, Miss Ramsay always brought some for the nurses. Delicious they were too.”
    â€œSo Miss Ramsay, a self-styled recluse, would often visit the hospital to sit with old people?”
    â€œNot often. Mostly on Sundays when we were short-staffed as—”
    â€œWas she supervised?”
    â€œThe residents’ areas are open.”
    â€œAnd these teas, these herbal medications?”
    The sheriff had intervened. “We’ve already covered this.”
    â€œThe procurator fiscal is an experienced prosecutor,” Calum told Joanne, “but he was beaten by Nurse Ogilvie’s honesty. It was hard to see why the charges went to trial.”
    â€œAgreed.” Joanne could not see why either.
    â€œIt was said