A Dream Rides By (19 page)

A low conversation developed, all about the dreadful weather and how the blizzard was so much worse even than the heavy snow of ten years previously. There hadn’t been any wind then, Mrs Huggins recalled, not like now when she had found it hard to locate the station, the snow was blinding her so. Ling was sitting by the window and indeed could see nothing but driving shafts of white. To her amazement, the powder was seeping in at the top of the closed windows and around the doors, and, when she looked up, it was even blustering in through the air-vents.

‘Oh my!’ Mrs Huggins exclaimed. Withdrawing her handkerchief, she crammed it into the crack at the top of the window. Her action precipitated a flurry of activity as everyone followed suit, stuffing paper or anything else they could find into the tiny, one would have thought impenetrable, gaps.

The train slowed and stopped. Ling met Fanny’s gaze and her pulse began to race. Oh, dear Lord! Surely they hadn’t become stuck? But an instant later, they began to creep forward again.

Ling peered out of the window. She could just about see that the engine was dragging them through a drift at least five feet deep. The engine was gaining speed again, and Ling released a sigh of relief, but they had a long way to go yet, across exposed moorland. Despite their efforts, the snow was still determined to force its way into the compartment. Already, a white layer was scattered across the floor and settling on the passengers’ laps and shoulders. The older man even opened his umbrella and gave it to his wife, but it was to little avail as the fine particles merely blew in underneath.

The train was moving along steadily now, although slower than normal, and Ling would be glad when they chugged into Yelverton Station and perhaps escaped the worst of the blizzard on the moor. But suddenly, without warning, the train lurched to a standstill. The passengers were jolted forward and Ling was flung on to the floor, putting out her hands to protect herself. It was all so quick she wasn’t sure what happened. But the next thing she knew, she was lying in a crumpled heap and her wrist, which had been throbbing from her earlier fall, now burned in agony.

An uncanny silence sang in her ears, followed by groans and low cries of, ‘Are you all right?’ and the sound of people moving slowly. Ling heard a voice, strange and yet oddly familiar, as if it came from the deepest recess of her mind, ask with concern, ‘Are you all right, Fanny?’

Somehow Ling felt comforted by the voice and a wave of peace washed over her as Fanny answered in the affirmative. It was only then that Ling became fully aware of the acute pain that scorched through her wrist. She cried out, cradling it to her chest, and then she felt a strong arm about her shoulders, raising her up, and that soothing voice spoke calmly and confidently once again.

‘It’s all right, Ling. I’ll take care of you. I really
am
a doctor this time.’

For a few seconds, Ling was totally stunned. And then a quiet excitement began to ferment deep down inside her, making her feel like a young girl, the same girl who had been rescued from beneath the crushing wheels of a steam engine by a valiant knight on a white charger.

She pulled herself up short, ashamed. That was years ago. She was a married woman now, with responsibilities on her shoulders. Tangled emotions ripped through her, tearing away that moment of pure joy as Elliott’s strong arms carefully raised her from her undignified position on the floor.

‘Fanny, are you sure you’re all right?’ she asked at once, for surely Fanny was far more important than she was just now. To her relief, Elliott was already taking care of the situation.

‘No pain anywhere, Fanny?’ his clear, calm voice enquired as he squatted down in front of Fanny so that she could hear his words. Good Lord, he remembered Fanny’s problems after all that time!

‘No.’ Fanny shook her head and then grinned. ‘Oo, the babby just kicked,’ she said coyly.

‘There you are then, Ling. The little one will be fine. Nicely cushioned in its bag of fluid as nature intended. Unlike your wrist.’

‘And everyone else?’ Ling asked.

In the dim glow from the carriage lamp, she saw Elliott colour slightly. In his anxiety over
her
, he had forgotten the others who had been subjected to the same violent jolt.

‘My wife’s a little shaken,’ the middle-aged man replied, ‘but ’tis all.’

‘And ’twill take more than that to hurt Mary Huggins,’ the plump, friendly woman announced cheerily.

‘There, you see.’ The corners of Elliott’s mouth curved upwards as he looked straight at Ling, and her heart at once began to race. She realized now he was the gentleman who had been sitting in the far corner, hidden by the turned-up collar of his coat and his hat, which must have been knocked off in the commotion since it was no longer on his head. Even so, Ling wondered if she would have recognized him. Gone were the boyish good looks. His face was slightly haggard, as if he had much to worry him, but it remained a strong, handsome face, which would instil confidence in his patients.

‘We’ve not moved yet.’

‘Driver’s trying, mind.’

The concerned voices as the great wheels indeed squealed on the metal track drew Ling from her dazed state. The engine driver was evidently attempting to coax the train forward, but it wouldn’t budge, and even when he put it into reverse it shunted but an inch or two as the wheels ground uselessly on the snowbound rails.

‘Seems we’m stuck fast.’

‘Saints preserve us!’

‘Well, let’s not get too worried yet,’ Elliott said sensibly. ‘I suggest you all see if you can find anything else to stop the snow blowing in while I see to this young lady’s wrist.’

There was a general mumble of agreement and everyone searched in their pockets for anything that might be of use, leaving Elliott to sit beside Ling and take her hand gently but firmly in his, cautiously flexing it this way and that.

‘I slipped over on the way to the station,’ she told him, her flesh tingling at his touch. ‘Or at least, we were both blown over by a gust of wind. I’m worried about Fanny.’

‘Hmm.’ Elliott glanced briefly at Fanny as she concentrated on stuffing her handkerchief into the air-vent above her head. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her. She looks as if she’s near her time.’

‘She is. I was taking her to the workhouse infirmary.’

Elliott raised an eyebrow, and Ling was grateful that he didn’t press her as the gravity of their situation began to grip her chest in an iron hold. What if . . .? Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about!

‘Well, if I have to deliver her baby on the train, it’ll be a sight cleaner than many of the places I’ve delivered babies before. Now, can you make a fist for me? Good. And now squeeze my hand as tightly as you can. There. Just a sprain.’ He nodded at her, looking up with that half smile once more. ‘I seem to be making a habit of telling you that, don’t I, Miss Southcott? I’ll just strap it up for you to make it more comfortable.’

‘Mrs Mayhew now.’ The words were blurted out in a rush as if she must put a stop at once to the longing, the regret that had seized her.

‘Ah.’ Elliott’s tone was flat as he reached up to take his medical bag from the luggage rack, but it seemed for just an instant that he shot her a wistful glance. Or was she imagining it as her pulse tripped and began to beat even faster?

‘Barney,’ she went on, for her own sake rather than his. To drive away the guilt. She should
not
feel like this!

‘Oh, yes, I remember. You married him. Well, congratulations! When was that?’

‘Five years ago.’

‘Really? Now just hold your hand like that for me. That’s right. And did his broken arm mend well? It was nasty as I remember.’

‘Yes, it did. But . . . how did you know about it?’

‘Well, I met him. At the quarry. I came to see you before I left for London. To give you my address so that you could write to me. Barney said you weren’t there so he was going to pass it on to you. Don’t you remember? I’d have liked it if you had written, but I can understand why you didn’t. Miles away, and I
was
there seven years. There, that’s done. It should feel better now.’

Ling stiffened with shock. Had Barney deceived her all those years ago? Had he been that jealous? Suspicion and dismay heaved in her breast as all the frustrations she had thought to have buried long ago vaulted to the surface again.

She was thankfully distracted by the older man suddenly springing to his feet. He at once pulled down the window and the wind roared into the compartment, driving a hail of white snowflakes over the travellers.

‘Need any help?’ the man’s voice boomed to whoever was outside. There was evidently a reply, and then the window was heaved shut, the storm battering against the glass again.

‘Sorry ’bout that. That were the guard. Appears the engine’s stuck in a drift right up to the chimney. He and the driver and the fireman are trying to dig us out, but sounds like a hopeless task to me.’

An apprehensive murmur circulated among the passengers and Ling saw Fanny’s face blanch. She had heard the man’s stentorian announcement well enough. Ling squeezed her hand and smiled. She was pretty anxious herself, but somehow Elliott’s presence had given her confidence.

‘Looks like we’ll be here for some time,’ declared the man with the loud voice. ‘So we might as well introduce ourselves. I’m Sergeant Watts.’

Ah, that explained his manner, Ling thought to herself, and then saw the young lad in military uniform instantly stand to attention. ‘Private Hancock, Sergeant,’ he said, saluting briskly.

Elliott caught Ling’s eye as he snapped shut his medical bag and winked surreptitiously at her. He still had that reserved sense of humour, and Ling’s heart sang because that special link she had felt between them during those long ago celebrations seemed to have survived.

‘At ease, Private,’ Sergeant Watts commanded, and the soldier immediately relaxed again. But at the same time, the eyes of the youngest passenger shone with admiration.

‘Edward Worth, mail-boy, in charge of the mailbags,’ he repeated proudly from earlier on the journey. ‘’Tis my duty to accompany them all the way!’

‘And I’s Palk, sir. Samuel Palk, porter in the Goods Department on the GWR.’

Mrs Huggins had no need to introduce herself again but jauntily did so anyway. Elliott held out his hand and Sergeant Watts took great delight in pumping it up and down. There followed a general shaking of hands as if Elliott had led the way to this ritual, which seemed to bond these strangers together. A hubbub of conversation broke out among them. But their words went unheard by Ling’s tormented mind. All she could think of was that she could have remained in contact with Elliott all those years, and who knew how different her life might have been?

‘I expect he just forgot,’ she muttered, for that was what she wanted to believe. ‘Barney. Your note. I would have written.’

She blinked at Elliott, waiting for his reaction. He seemed pleasantly surprised and his mouth stretched into a smile. ‘I’d have liked that,’ he answered quite naturally.

‘I’d have liked to have heard about London. And your work.’ And a great deal more besides, she thought to herself.

‘Oh, most of London is overcrowded and very dirty. I spent all my time studying or working at the hospital. Or treating people in their filthy slums. I relished every minute of my training and learnt from some of the finest surgeons in the country. But I can’t tell you how relieved I am to be back in Tavistock again.’

Ling nodded politely, since this must seem nothing more than a friendly conversation. But some overwhelming force drove her to ask the next question, something so powerful she could not fight against it. ‘And I imagine you must have brought a wife with you? What does she think of our part of the world after London?’ Her thoughts were spinning in a tortured dance. She wanted desperately for Elliott to be married, to be out of reach of her own fantasies, which she had thought to have died long ago. Please God . . .

‘A wife? Good heavens, I hardly had time to eat and sleep, let alone go courting! And I’ve been so busy since I’ve been back that socializing remains a luxury. Much to my mother’s chagrin. She would have me introduced to every eligible young lady in town if . . .’

The remainder of his sentence was drowned as the guard reported back. Useless. He would strike out for Dousland Station. The driver and fireman would remain in the cab. The words seemed far away, in another universe that existed entirely separately from Ling’s anguished mind. Elliott’s mother. The haughty, imperious woman had obviously considered her beneath her son. Or was she maligning Mrs Franfield? Perhaps she had merely forgotten to pass on the message, just as Barney might have omitted to . . . The sword of fate twisted painfully somewhere below Ling’s ribs. Coincidence or betrayal on both counts? But what did it matter? It was all too late. She was a married woman. And anyway, she knew so little about Elliott. Oh, it must just be the tension of being marooned on the train and not knowing what was in store for them all!

‘We looks like gingerbread men with icing sugar sprinkled on top,’ Mrs Huggins was saying brightly, since the snow was still managing to blow in through every packed crevice.

‘Oh, don’t talk about food, missis. I’m starving.’

‘Try to think of summat else then. How’s about a song?’

She proceeded to lead them all in some traditional tunes, which for a while took their minds off the blizzard, which continued to rage about them with no sign of abating. But the merriment gradually faded as the vicious gale drove relentlessly against the windows and shook the carriage like a plaything. Outside it was pitch black beyond the snow piling up against the glass panes. It was like being wrapped inside a chrysalis with no earthly idea of how they might ever emerge.

Within the hour, the guard was back, declaring that in the dark, with the wind and the lashing snow, he would never have reached Dousland Station alive so there was certainly no chance of being rescued that night. Mrs Watts moaned pitifully and her husband patted her hand. Fanny’s eyes were wide as she glanced towards Ling for reassurance, and, in her turn, Ling swivelled her gaze to Elliott.