The Matchmaker
Margaret Williams felt a twinge in her chest and decided to call the doctor. It wasnt that she was seriously illshe just had no one to talk to.
The doctor who arrived was new, someone Margaret had never seen beforea young, slender woman with red-rimmed eyes. Poking out of her bag was a long cucumber.
“Come in,” Margaret invited her inside.
Flustered, the doctor left the bag with the cucumber in the hallway, slipped 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 warmed to the young woman, feeling a mix of sympathy and curiosity.
“Heart trouble?” the doctor asked softly, sitting beside the bed where Margaret had lain down.
“Thats the one, the blasted thing,” Margaret confirmed. “Thump, thump, thump. Sometimes in my heels, sometimes in my knees, sometimes in my earsand other places Id be embarrassed to mention.”
The doctor, with delicate fingers, picked up her stethoscope and listened to Margarets back and chest, frowning as she did so, her plucked eyebrows knitting together.
“My knees,” Margaret suggested. “Theyre pounding something fiercemaybe have a listen there?”
The doctor shook her head firmly, making it clear knees were out of the question.
“Arrhythmia,” she declaredthen suddenly burst into tears so violently that Margaret was startled.
“Is it that bad?” Margaret gasped, her heart now hammering like a jackhammer.
“No, not youme!” the doctor sobbed. “Youll take some pills and be fine, but II”
And then Margaret brightened. A proper conversation was on the horizon, and just like that, her heart stopped racing.
“Husband trouble?” Margaret asked matter-of-factly, fastening her dressing gown.
“I dont have a husband!” the doctor wailed. “Thats the whole problem!”
“Ah, boyfriend dumped you, then,” Margaret deduced.
“Ill write you a prescription,” the doctor sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve and fishing out a crumpled prescription pad.
“Oh, hold on with the pills,” Margaret said, waving her off. “Lets have some tea first.”
“Im on duty,” the doctor hiccuped, scribbling something illegible.
“So am I,” Margaret said firmly, marching off to the kitchen to brew some chamomile.
The doctor shuffled after her, miserable, still wearing her stethoscope in her ears.
“Take those out!” Margaret scolded, pulling jam, biscuits, and chocolate-covered marshmallows from the cupboard.
The doctor yanked them out and burst into tears again.
Only now did Margaret realise how young she really was. Freckles on her nose, chapped hands, and eyes full of despair.
“Right, out with it,” Margaret commanded, settling at the table.
“I wrote you good tablets,” the girl in the white coat blubbered. “Really good ones!”
“Forget the tabletstell me why youre crying!”
“Allergies,” the girl lied unconvincingly, sipping the scalding tea.
Margaret got up and checked the thermometer outside.
“Bit late for that, love. Its springten degrees out there!”
“Late?!” the girl wailed. “Well, then its nerves!”
She shoved a whole marshmallow into her mouth.
Seizing the moment of silence, Margaret pounced:
“Let me diagnose you. Youre crying because your bloke left you for someone elseam I right?”
“Yeth!” the girl nodded, marshmallow muffling her voice, fresh tears plopping into her tea.
“Ah!” Margaret was delighted by her own accuracy. “And the other womanlet me guessyour friend?”
“Sisther!” The girl swallowed the marshmallow and, for some reason, stuck the stethoscope back in her ears.
“Your own sister?!” Margaret gasped, clutching her chestthough her heart was now beating steadily, eager for the drama.
“Stepsister,” the doctor sniffled. “But basically the same.” She listened to her own heartbeat with the stethoscope, then pulled it out. “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 Welsh druid. The stuff loosened tongues, lifted spirits, and gave women a sudden urge to marry.
She poured the doctor a shot.
The girl downed it without protest, her face clearing, and before Margaret could ask, she spilled everything.
“I loved Peter, Peter loved mewe were together three years! He was writing his thesis, meant to get a flat in grad housing, then wed marry. Have kids, buy furniture, take out a car loan. Peter studies nuclear fusion. No metal can withstand his experiments! His only hope was tungstenbut even that failed If it hadnt, hed have finished his thesis by now. We loved each other, went to the cinema, kissed in stairwells, sat in cafésproper romance. I treated patients in my spare time; Peter hunted for metals that could survive his fusion. Thenout of nowheremy younger sister shows up. Gorgeous! Trained as a singer. Peter took one look and forgot all about fusion. Didnt even mention tungsten again. Started spouting nonsense about singing like Ed Sheeran. I knew right then. Love at first sight Passionate, reckless, blind. My sister liked that my Peter was working on his thesis. She dropped out of music school and moved here under his ‘nuclear-fusion safety net.’ I shouldve fought for him, for our futurebut Ive got shifts, always shifts!
“Yesterday, Peter proposed to her. She said yes, and I nearly hanged myself. As physicists sayalmost ‘plasma-coated the vacuum pump’! Im the third wheel in this nuclear-pop duet.”
The doctor stuck the stethoscope back in her ears and, with detached cheer, ate all the raspberry jam.
Margaret rubbed her hands gleefully and fetched her laptop.
“Wow!” The doctor was so impressed by her elderly patients tech-savviness she pulled the stethoscope out again. “Whats that for?”
“Were finding you a husband!” Margaret slipped on her glasses, booted up the laptop, and clicked away like a hacker.
“Oh no, dont!” The doctor leapt up. “Please! Internet love isnt for me!”
“Loves love, however you find it,” Margaret muttered, squinting at the screen. “Here42, divorced, no kids, works in a bank, loves travel, pork pies, and dogs.”
“He can keep the dogsIm scared of them! Cant bake, hate travelling. And 42?! Hes practically a pensioner!”
“Fine, next. Thirty-three, single, corporate manager, loves brunettes, blondes, redheads. Hobby: sex. Tired of flings, wants one steady but ‘varied’ relationship. Hmm, maybe not him either”
“Wait,” the doctor spluttered, “are you some kind of matchmaker?! Whered you get these ‘candidates’?!”
“I am,” Margaret confirmed. “Professional matchmaker. Been out of work two weekshence the heart trouble. Bloody global crisis. People wont date or marrytoo scared of commitment. Even dumping mistresses to save money. Then you turn upheartbroken, arrhythmic, ‘allergic,’ and wired for sound! I swear, heaven sent you!”
“Listen, I dont need”
“Whats your name?”
“Mary. I mean, Marina.”
“Mary-Marina, you must get revenge on that physicist! Must!” Margaret clicked faster. “Aha! Here we go. Favourite name: Marina. Must be tall, model figure, blue eyes, dimples. Ugh, forget him. Dimples, really? Next! Twenty-five! Lives in LA! Millionaires son! Villa and yacht! Handsome!” She rubbed her hands.
The doctor peered over her shoulder.
“Ew!” she shrieked. “Hes hideous! Looks like an orangutan!”
“But hes loaded!” Margaret protested. “Villa! Yacht! Handsome! Better than scraping metals with fusion!”
“I dont want a millionaires son,” the girl dug in. “His dad croaks tomorrow, and Im stuck with this ape! I dont even speak Americanhowll I get work in LA?!”
Margaret stared sternly over her glasses.
“Never had such a picky client,” she muttered. “Most claw at millionaires!”
Blushing, the doctor poured herself another shot of the druids brew, gulped it, and suggested:
“Can I pick my own candidate?”
“Not how its done,” Margaret frowned. “Thats my job.”
“Oh, come off it,” the doctor grinned. “Your jobs plying clients with tea and sweet talk. Ill find my own man. Give me that saucer with the blue rim!”
Margaret slid the laptop over. Never had she had such a stubborn client. Never had a doctor sobbed in her kitchen.
Five minutes later”This one!” The doctor jabbed the screen. “Him!”
“Mary-Marina, youre mad!” Margaret gasped. “Hes a joke listing! Just for laughs! La-di-da!” She mimed gaiety.
“No, this is the one,” the doctor insisted. “Thirty, single, reindeer herder. Names Mike.”
“Reindeer herder!” Margaret yelped. “Hes a Sami! Lives in the tundra!”
“Perfect,” the doctor said. “I want the tundra. Him or no one.”
“Well, Mary-Marina,” Margaret sighed, draping a shawl over her shoulders, slipping on slippers, and heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Mary-Marina blinked.
“To fetch the reindeer herder.”
“The tundra?!”
“No, next door. Hes my neighbour!”
“And the LA millionaire?”
“My friends neighbour. She lives in America.”
“Wait! I was joking!” The doctor panicked, grabbing her cucumber bag.
But Margaret, first out the door, locked her in.
“Help!” the doctor tried.
“Helps coming,” Margaret promised.
Ten minutes later, she returned with Mike, flowers, and champagne.
The doctor was weeping by the window, listening to her own heart through the stethoscope.
“Mike,” the reindeer herder introduced himselfand handed her a Sami diamond.
“Marina I mean, Mary Or mouse. Whatever,” the doctor mumbled, blushing as she examined the diamond under the lamp.
“Mouse is fine,” Mike murmured. “I love white mice.”
“I cant take this,” she said firmlypocketing it.
“Take it!” Mike begged. “Ive got more.”
Margaret felt like a third wheel. She always knew when to leave couples alone.
“Soreindeer herder or diamond miner?”
“Herder. Brother mines diamonds.”
“Brother” the doctor groaned. “God, Im such an idiot! Can I check your thyroid?”
“Why?!” Mike paled. “I dont have one!”
“God, Im an idiot When do you go back to the tundra?”
“When you say.”
“Im an impossible idiot. Forgive me.”
“Champagne?”
“I want to jump out the window.”
“Champagne first, then we jump,” Mike offered.
Margaret slipped out unnoticed. As she locked the door, a champagne cork popped.
Outside, dusk had fallen. The bench by the house was empty.
Margaret sat and listened to her heart. It wasnt achingjust buzzing with curiosity.
Whats happening with Mike and Mary-Marina? Will it work? Will it last?
Again, no one to talk to.
Shed only listed Mike as a joke. He studied economics, lived near Tromsø, and had zero plans to marry. He visited his aunt during term breaks and was the buildings darlingfixing leaks, hanging curtains, unblocking drains, measuring blood pressure, or just listening to old ladies endless stories.
Mike repaired the unrepairable, cured the incurable, predicted economic trends, andmost importantlycould talk for hours over three kettles of tea. Honestly, Margaret had never met a kinder soul. But he was Sami, and in her matchmaking mind, that meant only a Sami woman would do. Shed listed him as a lark”Look, even reindeer herders!” Mike knew and didnt mind, figuring no Sami women would turn up in her clientele.
And nowdiamonds, champagne, joint window-jumping!
Margaret tiptoed to her window. Her flat was on the ground floor. Through the open pane came laughter, clinking glasses, lively chatter.
She wasnt surprised. Mike fixed the unfixable. What was one heartbroken doctor to him?
Easy.
Mike had laughing eyes, high cheekbones, a herders generous soul, and a touch of the shaman.
Margaret smiled, crossed herself toward the window, and returned to the benchwhere she found Antonia from the third floor walking her poodle.
Someone to talk to at last!
“That Mike! Not such a confirmed bachelor after all! And our GPher fiancé dumped her! And he gave her a diamond! And shes throwing herself at him! Wants to jump out windows! He calls her ‘mouse’!” Margaret babbled.
“No! The new doctor?! Oh!” Antonia gasped, pulling out roasted sunflower seeds.
Margaret happily recounted her “heart trouble,” the nuclear fusion disaster, the LA millionaire, and the doctors stubborn self-matchmaking.
Antonia nodded, spitting husks into a newspaper cone.
“Now theyre drinking champagne,” Margaret finished.
“Not anymore. Theyre drunkjumping out windows,” Antonia said, nodding at Margarets flat.
“Oh! I locked them in!” Margaret jumped up. “Hang on, lovebirds, Ill let you out!”
“Sit!” Antonia yanked her sleeve. “Theyve escaped. Lookskinny things! Squeezing through the bars!”
Sure enough, the doctor was wriggling through the window bars, cucumber bag in hand. She dropped lightly to the ground and yelled:
“Come on, Sami-Mike! Its not high! No parachute needed!”
Mike eeled through the bars and toppled onto her. They rolled in the grass, laughing and punching each other like kids.
“Well, its started,” Antonia sighed. “Whats your cut, Margaret?”
“Let them marry first,” Margaret grumbled. “They might just tumble about, then hell vanish to his reindeer, and shell crawl back to her physicist”
“Oh no!” The doctor suddenly jumped up. “Ive got a call! Old man next doors ill!”
“Lets go together,” Mike said. “I can cure anything.”
“You cant! Hes got a hypertensive crisis!”
“No such thing!”
“There is!”
“Isnt! For herders, no. For normal people, yesotherwise the old man wouldnt be ill!”
“Your patients just lonely. Thats not illnessits a state. Cured with tea, a shot of whisky, dominoes, and long chats. You cant manage aloneIm coming!”
Arm in arm, they headed off.
“Oh, Id better call Matthew!” Margaret realised. “He calls doctors just to chat! Hell ruin their fun with his old-man rambling.”
“Why dont you marry Matthew, save doctors and Samis the trouble?” Antonia said.
“Me? No! He hates dogs. And youre six months olderyou marry him!”
“I dont want him. Hes not Sami,” Margaret sniffed, hurrying inside.
“Now everyone wants Samis,” Antonia sighed. “Wherell we find enough? One turns up, and hes snapped up.”
Matthew answered instantly, as if hed been waiting for Margarets callcrisis forgotten.
“Theyre already here!” he laughed when she warned him not to spoil the doctor and Samis fun. “Mary-Marinas making tea; Mikes playing chess with me.”
“Chess?!” Margaret blinked. “Talented lad, that Mike”
“Reindeer herder!” Matthew boasted.
“I matched them,” Margaret bragged.
“Wow!” Matthew cheered. “Great work! Whats your fee?”
“Dunno yet. Let them file for marriage first.”
“Who gets married these days? Everyone cohabits!”
“These two will,” Margaret said. “Sami take weddings seriously.”
Distant laughter crackled down the line, then Mikes voice: “Checkmate!”
“Checkmate?!” Matthew roaredand hung up.
Margaret was alone again with her laptop. Her heart no longer ached, and she didnt feel like talking. Just knitting and watching telly.
A week later, the doctor called.
“How are you, Margaret?” she asked sweetly.
“Fine, thanks,” Margaret said cautiously, wondering how to ask about Mike.
“My physicist had a huge row with my singer sister,” the doctor blurted.
Margarets blood pressure spiked. So thats why Mike had vanished! Heartbroken, hed probably fled back to Tromsø
“The physicist crawled back to me. Said hed finally found a metal that withstands fusionhimself! Turns out he never cared for my sisteronly me!” the doctor rattled on, confirming Margarets fears. “Sister left; Peters on his knees with flowers in his teeth.”
“I see,” Margaret sighed, bracing for a full-blown crisis. “I see”
“But I told him to shove his fusion,” the doctor giggled. “Mike and I are moving to Tromsø in a month. Renting till then.”
“What?!” Margaret yelped. “Tromsø?! Its freezing!”
“Its boiling,” the doctor corrected, sounding like an expert. “Youve no idea, Margaret!”
“I offered you LA,” Margaret laughed. “And you”
“LAs for the old and poor. Whats your fee for a successful match?”
“A couple of little Samis,” Margaret cackled, crisis forgotten. “A couple of little Samis,” Margaret cackled, crisis forgotten.
The doctor giggled, then whispered, “Were already trying.”
Margaret nearly dropped the phone. “Be careful with that shaman touch!”
“Dont worry,” the doctor said. “He says reindeer know when to run.”
And for the first time in years, Margaret fell asleep with a smile, the hum of her heart steady and bright.
