A Dream Rides By (3 page)

The shriek of metal scraping on metal as the engine-driver wrenched on the brake-lever in his battle to bring the tons of heavy steel and ironwork to a screeching halt. Clank, lurch, hissing of steam. The weight and power that would crush a human form like a twig. Would it take her? She would have to wait and see. But it wouldn’t. It was unreal. None of this was happening. She had the vague sensation of being moved, dragged. Smelt the heat, the coal fire, the hot engine-oil.

‘Well done, sir!’ The voice was nearer this time. ‘Can I have some help here?’

She was moving again, flying, feeling discomfort now. Oh, it had been better before, so she let herself sink beneath the waves of oblivion where it was peaceful and safe.

She could hear voices again, one of them familiar and comforting.

‘Let me in! I be her best friend! We’m from the quarries. Us was yere together.’

‘Yes, I saw,’ the other voice cut in tersely. ‘’Twas you pushed her on to the line.’

‘No! Well, yes, but ’tweren’t my fault. I were pushed from behind and—’

Ah, Barney. She would be all right now. She could come back. She struggled to focus her mind, claw her way back to reality.

‘Barney.’

That was her own voice, wasn’t it, yet it sounded so weak and feeble. Her muscles still refused to work; she couldn’t open her eyes. And then she felt Barney crush her against him, safe and warm.

‘No!’ another voice she didn’t recognize, a young man’s this time, commanded. ‘Lie her down on the floor and raise her legs.’

‘Who the hell d’you think—’

‘I’m a doctor. Now, do as I say.’

Oh, no. Please don’t argue. I feel sick as it is.
The black curtain enshrouding her vision began to lift and, as she moaned softly, her eyelids flickered open. The first thing she saw was Barney, an expression like thunder on his face, and then her gaze wandered about the strange room. She was lying on the floor of what must be the ladies’ waiting room. A vile wave of fear washed through her as she remembered falling beneath the huge, terrifying monster of the train.

‘What . . . what happened?’ she whispered hoarsely.

‘You was pushed off the platform,’ she was told by an older man, who she guessed by his uniform must be the stationmaster. She saw him throw a disparaging glance in Barney’s direction. ‘Accidental, like,’ he added tightly. ‘But then this young gentleman saved you. A doctor, he be,’ he concluded with a deferential bob of his head.

It was only then that Ling noticed, kneeling down next to her, the rider of the striking dappled horse that had streaked past them at such speed. He had taken her wrist, and now he looked up and smiled.

‘Your pulse is settling nicely now so you should start to feel better.’

‘Yes, I am,’ she answered, surprised at how quickly the queasiness had passed.

‘Good. Now I want you to keep your head still and follow my finger with your eyes.’

She obeyed meekly, but she would much rather have continued studying his face, which was very handsome in a quiet, steadfast sort of way.

‘Excellent,’ he pronounced, smiling again, and, behind him, the stationmaster cleared his throat.

‘Can you manage now, sir? I really should be getting back to my duties. Though I’m not sure I should be leaving this young girl alone with you two gentlemen.’

‘I am a man of the professional class,’ the young doctor assured him, ‘so I believe I am to be trusted. But is there anyone we can fetch for the young lady?’

‘Oh, Barney, find my parents, would you?’ Ling asked, beginning to feel like her normal self. But, as she lifted her eyes to Barney’s, she caught the stranger’s gaze on her before he quickly turned away in embarrassment. Then she saw Barney give an ill-tempered frown as he followed the stationmaster out of the waiting room, allowing the door to slam closed behind him.

‘Do you have any pain anywhere?’

Ling was glad to allow her attention to be drawn back to the handsome stranger. ‘My ankle’s throbbing. I think I twisted it as I fell.’

‘I’ll take a look, if you’ll permit me. But first I should like to feel over your head and you must tell me if it hurts anywhere. I believe you only fainted, but we should make sure you didn’t hit your head. No, just lie still,’ he instructed as she went to sit up.

He proceeded to remove her hat, which had only stayed attached because of the long pin Mary had fixed through it that morning. Then he brushed the hair back from each of her ears in turn, appearing to check them for Ling didn’t know what, before carefully moving his hands over her skull. Ling kept still, her head clearer now and the strange situation beginning to dawn on her. Here she was, alone with this most polite but nonetheless unknown person, who she was now allowing to remove her boot and sock. And yet somehow she felt perfectly at ease with him.

‘You seem . . . very young for a doctor,’ she faltered.

He raised a bashful eyebrow at her. ‘I’m not a doctor,’ he admitted somewhat sheepishly. ‘At least, not yet. I’m a medical student. I’ve been assisting Dr Greenwood in Tavistock for the past year. But, next month, I’m off to London. To Guy’s. To become fully qualified. It’ll take years, mind. Now, can you push against my hand?’

The examination was uncomfortable, but he was very gentle, his long fingers cool on her puffed ankle. He seemed unhurried and thorough, his lips softly pursed in concentration, and Ling felt disappointed when the door burst open and Barney marched back in with Arthur, Mary and Fanny on his heels.

‘Ling!’ her mother cried, flinging herself on her knees and wrapping her elder daughter in her arms.

‘No need to cry, Mother! I’m proper clever now.’

Nevertheless, Mary’s shoulders shook convulsively, and it was Arthur who held out his hand. ‘We can’t believe what happened,’ he said gravely. ‘I must be thanking you, sir, from the bottom of my heart.’

‘You was that brave, sir, jumping down in front of the train like that!’ Mary added her gratitude as her husband vigorously shook the fellow’s hand.

‘Is that what you did?’ Ling suddenly remembered what the stationmaster had said about the young stranger having saved her, and she sat up abruptly, her eyes wide, aware of a shiver of pleasure slithering down her spine.

‘This young gentleman risked his own life to save yourn, and if he hadn’t, ’tis certain ’twould have been a wake and not a celebration we’d be having now! And as for you –’ Arthur spun round, his normally gentle demeanour flung to the four winds – ‘as her friend, and a young man at that, I expected you to take care on my daughter, not push her under a bloody train!’

Barney had been standing grinding his teeth in black resentment at the praise being heaped upon the stranger, but now Ling noticed the colour flaming into his face. She knew that her father, usually such a mild man, must have been furious to have used such language. She saw Barney take a step backwards,but then brace his shoulders as youthful indignation flared within him.

She had to go to his rescue. ‘Oh, it wasn’t Barney’s fault! The crowd was jostling and—’

‘Hmm.’ Arthur’s forehead pleated fiercely. ‘Well, I suggest you make yersel scarce for today, boy. We’ll take care on our daughter ourselves.’

Barney lifted his chin, and Ling saw his eyes move beneath his swooping brows. He must have understood her father’s anger as he obediently backed out of the room, though with a churlish scowl on his face. Through the open door came the sound of the Tavistock Volunteer Band striking up the first rousing march with which it was to lead the procession of flag-waving children towards the centre of Princetown, cheered on by the gathered crowds who were not only celebrating the arrival of the new railway but the salvation of the young girl who had fallen into its path.

Barney clenched his jaw and went to join them.

‘I don’t think it’s broken, just badly sprained.’

The young gentleman examining Ling’s ankle glanced up and his mouth widened into a smile, accentuating the strong line of his jaw and revealing evenly set teeth. Ling felt a thrill of excitement. He was so quiet and unassuming, as if putting his own life in danger to rescue others was something he did every day. He was obviously well educated – which was attractive to Ling in itself – and, although far above her in social rank, he put on no airs and graces. His eyes smiled warmly at her, a deep blue with a hint of green in them, and his fair hair fell in a roguish wave over his broad forehead. It was his hair more than anything that Ling recognized, for the horseman on the moor had been bareheaded, unusual in anyone, let alone someone wealthy enough to be riding a horse. So perhaps he possessed some secret determination in his character that was not immediately apparent. All the more intriguing!

‘Are you sure, Mr . . . er . . . Dr . . .?’ Arthur questioned him. ‘I mean no offence, but you seem mighty young . . .’

‘Franfield, sir. Elliott Franfield. And you’re right. I’m not a doctor yet, just a medical student. But I have dealt with many a twisted ankle. Under supervision, of course, but it is a common injury, and I’m positive it isn’t broken. But it should be strapped up and rested as much as possible.’

Ling was happily impressed. But, just then, a loud knock rapped on the door, and Ling looked up to see Mrs Warrington sweep into the waiting room like a whirlwind. The stunningly beautiful lady hurried across to Ling, her expressive face melting with relief.

‘Ling, my dear. When I heard it was you! And you must be the young man . . .’

It seemed to Ling that the spacious room was suddenly filled with the woman’s presence, but that was Rose Warrington for you! Her violet-blue eyes darted from side to side as she looked from one face to the other, and then she squatted down on her heels by Ling’s side in the most unladylike fashion.

‘Oh, my dear child, I hope you’re not hurt!’

‘Just twisted my ankle,’ Ling answered easily. ‘Mr Franfield’s learning to be a doctor and he assures me it isn’t broken.’

‘Oh, what a relief!’ Ling saw Mrs Warrington glance at her bare foot, which was still resting in Elliott Franfield’s hand. ‘Well, it certainly doesn’t look like when my husband broke his ankle. Black and blue ’twas, and that swollen! My dearest, would you take a look?’ she called over her shoulder to the tall, lean gentleman lingering hesitantly in the doorway. ‘You must have been terrified, poor lamb,’ Mrs Warrington sympathized, turning back to Ling, and, a moment later, Mr Warrington and Elliott were exchanging words over Ling’s foot, asking her when it hurt as they carefully moved it this way and that.

Ling herself was somewhat bewildered as she was being engaged in two conversations at once, but she felt compelled to answer Rose Warrington first. ‘Not really. It all happened too quickly. I remember falling and then the train coming. I must have fainted because I don’t remember anything else. The next I knew, I was in here and . . . and Mr Franfield was taking care of me.’ She turned her eyes back to the two men discussing her ankle, aware of the rush of colour into her cheeks as she looked at the younger of them and hoping no one else had noticed.

‘I saw plenty of twisted ankles in the army,’ Mr Warrington said, nodding, ‘and I agree with Mr Franfield that it just needs strapping. I’ll see if the stationmaster has a medical box.’

He went outside, and Ling was almost disappointed when Elliott lowered her heel on to the floor again.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have introduced myself. Rose Warrington,’ the good lady at once went on, holding out her gloved hand to the bemused Mr Franfield and shaking his heartily. ‘We live at Fencott Place, the other side of Princetown. Perhaps you know it?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have that pleasure. I live in Tavistock and don’t usually venture so far on to the moor. And I’m afraid any spare time is spent with my head in a medical textbook. But I thought I would grant myself a day’s leave and witness the magnificent sight of the railway arriving here in Princetown. And am I glad that I did!’ he concluded, turning his steady gaze on Ling once more and causing her to shiver with delight.

‘Arthur Southcott,’ her father introduced himself, touching his forelock. ‘Quarryman at Foggintor. This is my wife, and these are our daughters: Ling, of course, and Fanny.’

‘Fanny, dear, how are you today?’ Ling realized that Mrs Warrington had raised her voice a little for Fanny’s benefit and then Fanny dipped a silent curtsy in return. ‘Ling is assistant at Foggintor School of which I suppose you might say I am patron,’ Rose went on to explain to the young gentleman. ‘Which is how we know each other.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Elliott smiled again. ‘Well, it’s my pleasure to meet you all. And I’m so glad I was able to be of some assistance.’

‘Assistance? Good heavens, you saved my life!’

Ling was overjoyed at the opportunity of both thanking the affable young man and showing her admiration. She was feeling herself again now and, when he blushed with embarrassment, her heart soared. She loved Barney, of course, but Mr Franfield was brave, kind and gentle, to say nothing of his good looks, as well as intelligent and – ah, there was the rub – educated and from a class she could never aspire to. He was the stuff of dreams – so she might as well enjoy his company while she could!

‘I assume you’re on your own, Mr Franfield?’ she enquired, hoping her eagerness was not too apparent. ‘So, would you care to join us for the day? It would be much more fun for you than being on your own.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the horror on her father’s face at her forwardness.

Elliott Franfield appeared equally astonished, his eyebrows lifted into his forehead, but almost immediately he broke into a boyish grin. ‘Why, thank you very much. I should be honoured.’

Ling’s chest swelled with happiness. She might nearly have been killed less than half an hour ago, but it seemed unreal, already a half forgotten dream. And without it, she would never have met the horseman who had drawn her attention earlier on. Her ankle throbbed, but it wasn’t
so
bad, and it was worth it to have Mr Franfield attend to it!

Seth Warrington returned with the bandages from Stationmaster Higman’s medical box and, holding Ling’s ankle while the student doctor strapped it most expertly, nodded approvingly at Elliott’s handiwork. A reserved man was Mr Warrington, somewhat of a mystery, and there were some strange rumours as to his background. Ling had heard it said he was leading a campaign for prison reform and, in particular, something to do with an appeal system. It was also rumoured that he had once been a cavalry officer. Ling had decided she quite liked him, and if Mrs Warrington was so devoted to him that was good enough!