**The Matchmaker**
Margaret Whitby felt a tightness in her chest and called for a doctor to visit her at home. It wasnt that she was terribly unwelljust that there was no one to talk to.
The doctor was new, someone Margaret had never seen beforea young, slender woman with red-rimmed eyes. Sticking out of her bag was a long cucumber.
«Come in,» Margaret invited the doctor inside.
The young woman awkwardly left the bag with the cucumber in the hallway, took off her boots, and stepped into the living room. Margaret had never known a doctor to remove their shoes in a patients home, so she immediately felt a wave of warmth and sympathy for her.
«Your heart?» the doctor asked softly, sitting by the bed where Margaret had lain down.
«Thats the one, the wretched thing,» Margaret confirmed. «It keeps thumping awaysometimes in my heels, sometimes in my knees, even in my ears. And, well, other places Id rather not mention.»
The doctor pressed her stethoscope against Margarets back and chest, frowning slightly as she listened.
«My knees,» Margaret suggested. «Its pounding there something awfulmaybe have a listen?»
The doctor shook her head firmlyno knees would be examined today.
«Arrhythmia,» she declaredand then suddenly burst into tears so violently that Margaret was startled.
«Is it that bad?» Margaret gasped, feeling her own heart hammer like a jackhammer.
«No, not youme!» the doctor sobbed. «Youll take some pills and be fine, but me I»
And just like that, Margaret perked up. The chance for a proper chat had arrived so clearly that her chest loosened and her heartbeat steadied.
«Did your husband upset you?» Margaret asked briskly, buttoning her dressing gown.
«I dont have a husband!» the doctor wailed. «Thats the whole problemI dont!»
«Ah, so a boyfriend dumped you,» Margaret deduced.
«Ill write you a prescription,» the doctor sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve before pulling out a crumpled prescription pad.
«Never mind the pills,» Margaret cut in. «Lets go to the kitchen for tea.»
«Im on duty,» the doctor hiccuped, scribbling something down.
«So am I,» Margaret retorted and marched off to put the kettle on.
The doctor trailed after her, shoulders slumped, stethoscope still dangling from her ears.
«Take that thing out!» Margaret barked, pulling jam, biscuits, and chocolate-covered marshmallows from the cupboard.
The doctor yanked the stethoscope freeand promptly started crying again.
Only now did Margaret notice how young she really wasfreckles on her nose, chapped hands, and utter despair in her eyes.
«Right, out with it,» Margaret ordered, sitting down with satisfaction.
«Ive written you good pills,» the girl in the white coat wept. «Very good ones!»
«I dont need pillstell me why youre crying!»
«A-allergy to cold,» the girl lied unconvincingly before burning her tongue on the tea.
Margaret stood to check the thermometer outside.
«Bit late for that, love. Its springten degrees out there!»
«Late?!» The girl burst into fresh tears. «Then it must be nerves!»
She shoved an entire marshmallow into her mouth.
Seizing the chance, Margaret blurted:
«Fine, Ill diagnose you. Youre crying because your bloke left you for someone elseright?»
«Rrrright!» The girl nodded through the marshmallow, tears plopping into her tea.
Margarets heart leapt with triumph. «And this other womanshes your friend, isnt she?»
«My sissster!» The girl swallowed the marshmallow and, for some reason, plugged the stethoscope back into her ears.
«Your real sister?!» Margaret gasped, clutching her chestthough her heart was actually beating steadily, eager for the drama.
«Half-sister,» the doctor sniffled. «But might as well be real.» She listened to her own heartbeat, then pulled the stethoscope out again. «Ive got arrhythmia too. Got any valerian?»
«I do!»
Margaret jumped up and fetched a homemade tincturea recipe known only to her, her grandmother, and a shaman from Mongolia. The stuff loosened tongues, lifted spirits, and made one fiercely eager for marriage.
She poured the girl a shot.
The doctor downed it without protest, her face brightening before she spilled everything.
«I loved Peter, Peter loved methree whole years! We thought, once he finished his thesis, got a flat from the uni, wed marry. Have a baby, buy furniture, take out a car loan. Peter studies nuclear fusionno metal can withstand his experiments! His last hope was tungsten, but even that failed. If it hadnt, hed have his degree by now. We loved each othercinema dates, kisses in stairwells, café trips. I treated patients in my free time; he hunted for metals that wouldnt melt. Thenout of nowheremy baby sister shows up. Gorgeous! Trained as a singer. Peter took one look and forgot all about fusion. Started babbling that he could sing like Ed Sheeran. I knew right then. Love at first sightreckless, blinding. My sister fancied his thesis prospects, dropped out, and moved in under his nuclear-fusion security. I shouldve fought for him, for our futurebut between shifts and call-outs»
She took a shaky breath.
«Yesterday, Peter proposed to her. She said yes. I nearly hanged myself. Or as physicists saynearly imploded the vacuum chamber with plasma! Im the third wheel in this nuclear-pop duet.»
The doctor jammed the stethoscope back in her ears and, with eerie calm, demolished the entire jar of raspberry jam.
Margaret rubbed her hands and fetched her laptop.
«Wow!» The doctor gaped at the tech-savvy pensioner. «Whats that for?»
«Finding you a husband!» Margaret typed swiftly.
«Oh, no need!» The doctor bolted up. «Im not doing online dating!»
«Doesnt matter how you find lovejust that you do!» Margaret squinted at the screen. «Here: 42, divorced, no kids, banker, loves travel, sausage rolls, and dogs.»
«Let him love dogs without meIm terrified of them! Cant bake, hate travelling, and forty-two? Hes practically retired!»
«Scratch that,» Margaret agreed. «Next: 33, single, corporate manager, loves brunettes, blondes, redheads. Hobby: sex. Tired of flings, wants one steady but varied relationship.» She snorted. «No, not him either.»
«Are you a matchmaker?!» the doctor spluttered. «Whered you get these candidates?»
«Professional matchmaker,» Margaret said. «Two weeks without workthats why my hearts playing up. Global crisis. People wont marry, wont commit. Even dumping mistresses to save money. Then you show upheartbroken, arrhythmic, allergic to cold, lugging that stethoscope! Heaven-sent, you are!»
«I dont need»
«Your name?»
«Mary. Well, Marianne.»
«Mary-Marianne, you must ditch that idiot physicist!» Margaret typed faster. «Aha! Here we go: 25, San Francisco, millionaires son, villa, yacht, handsome!»
The doctor peeked at the screen. «Ugh! He looks like a gorilla!»
«But hes loaded! Villa! Yacht! Handsome! Better than scraping metals with fusion!»
«I dont want a millionaires son. If his dad croaks, Im stuck with this ape! And I dont speak Italianhowll I work in San Francisco?!»
Margaret glared over her glasses. «Never had such a picky client. Millionaires usually get snatched up!»
Blushing, the doctor poured herself another shot. «Can I pick my own?»
«Not how it works,» Margaret grumbled. «This is my job.»
«Your jobs plying clients with tea and chatter. Ill choose my own!»
Never had Margaret dealt with such a wilful client. Never had such a weepy doctor darkened her door.
Five minutes later: «This one!» The doctor stabbed the screen.
«Youre mad!» Margaret gasped. «Hes a joke listing! Just for laughs!»
«No, hes perfect. Thirty, single, reindeer herder. Names Mike.»
«Reindeer herder?! Hes a Laplander! Lives in the tundra!»
«Exactly!» The doctor beamed. «I want tundra. Him or no one.»
Margaret sighed, threw on a shawl, and headed out.
«Where are you going?»
«To fetch your reindeer herder.»
«The tundra?!»
«Nonext door. Hes my neighbour!»
«And the millionaire?»
«My friends neighbourin America.»
«Wait! I was joking!» The doctor lunged for her cucumber bag.
But Margaret locked her inside and returned ten minutes later with Mike, flowers, and champagne.
The doctor was sobbing by the window, stethoscope pressed to her chest.
«Mike,» the herder saidand handed her a Lapland diamond.
«Mariannewell, Mary. Or mouse. Whatever suits,» she mumbled, inspecting the gem.
«Mouse suits me,» Mike murmured. «I adore white mice.»
«I cant accept this,» she saidpocketing it anyway.
«Take it! Ive got more.»
Margaret slipped out, sensing the couple needed privacy.
«Soherder or diamond miner?»
«Herder. Brother mines diamonds.»
«Brother» The doctor groaned. «God, Im an idiot. Mind if I check your thyroid?»
«Why?! I dont have one!»
«Christ, Im impossible When do you go back to the tundra?»
«When you say.»
«Im a fool. Forgive me.»
«Fancy champagne?»
«I fancy jumping out the window.»
«Champagne first, then we jump,» Mike offered.
Outside, Margaret listened at her windowlaughter, clinking glasses. She wasnt surprised. Mike fixed unfixable things. A heartbroken doctor? Easy.
She smiled, crossed herself, and joined her neighbour, Ethel, walking her poodle.
Perfect for gossip.
A week later, the doctor called.
«How are you, Margaret?»
«Fine,» Margaret said cautiously.
«My physicist had a flaming row with my singer sister,» the doctor announced.
Margarets blood pressure spiked. So thats why Mike had vanishedback to Lapland, heartbroken
«Peter crawled back to me on his knees. Said hed found a metal that withstands fusion: himself! Turns out he never loved herjust me! Shes gone; hes begging with flowers in his teeth.»
«I see,» Margaret whispered, bracing for a stroke.
«But I told him to stuff his fusion. Mike and I are moving to Lapland next month!»
«What?! Its freezing there!»
«Its scorching,» the doctor laughed. «Youve no idea!»
«I offered you San Francisco.»
«San Franciscos for the old and poor. Whats your fee for a successful match?»
«A couple of little Laplanders,» Margaret cackled. «Ill love them like my own!»
**Life Lesson:** Love often arrives in the most unexpected wayssometimes with a cucumber, a stethoscope, and a reindeer herder. The heart wants what it wants, even if it defies all logic.
