High Master of Clere (23 page)

‘
It
’
s nothing very much. I
’
ve done it before,
’
she told Verity, who was counting linen with her.
‘
It
’
s just that, while one has it, one can
’
t—ouch
!’
She broke off, pressing her hand to the small of her back, and Verity ran to her, alarmed by the blanching of her face.

Verity ordered,
‘
You must go back to bed and I
’
ll ring Dr
.
Wales,
’
though Matron protested that all she needed was a couple of aspirins and to lie flat for an hour, Verity overruled her and after helping her to undress, telephoned to Bob.

Bob came, approved Matron
’
s self-prescription but ruled that the
‘
lying flat
’
must be total and must continue for at least two days, when he would see her again.

‘
She oughtn
’
t to raise herself, even to feed. Can you fix that?
’
he asked Verity.

‘
Easily. I
’
ll cut up her meals and spoon them to her myself,
’
Verity promised, and when Matron reminded her of the Norwich expedition, was more than half glad to be able to cry off it.

The departure of the mini-bus at noon left Clere emptier than it had been for months or was likely to be again for many more.

There remained one or two maids in the school houses, Rosa and Matron and Verity. From the window of Matron
’
s room Verity watched Martin taking his under-gardener and a tumbril to the shore to collect seaweed for the garden beds, and even the men working on the new wing during the morning disappeared at lunchtime in the final and abandoning way builders have. It was as if the onslaught of the wind had beaten Clere to a state of coma, and the effect was almost eerie.

Under protest Matron drank from a feeding-cup and took minced fish from a spoon, claiming that she had every sympathy with the hospital patient who had once told her sourly that in his opinion the only person capable of feeding or washing a face was the man who lived behind it. She fretted continually about all the work she should be doing, but after lunch Bob
’
s sedatives took over and she fell asleep.

When that happened Verity decided to walk into the village to post a letter. She propped a message on Matron
’
s bedside table—
‘
If you wake, stay put
—
or else! Shan
’
t be long away
’
—not knowing then how soon she would be back; nor that she was not to reach the village that day.

She had just stepped outside when she heard it
—
a high long cry, driven down the wind, which stopped her in her tracks, chilling her blood.

What could it be? She knew most of the seabirds
’
calls and she was fairly sure the sound had been human, not animal. There—again! But as she turned into the wind and began to run, a boy was running towards her from the direction of the new wing.

She waited, recognizing him. He was one of the builder
’
s apprentices, his name was Ron and he had a special buddy, Ted. Panting, he almost fell into her arms, incoherencies fighting for utterance and nervous tears starting.

His clutch on her arm was vice-like.
‘
It
’
s Ted, miss! Up on the platform! He
’
s hurt! That
’
s him callin
’
out—don
’
t you hear him? He
’
s bad
—
something terrible. I don
’
t know what to do for him
...
bleeding
...’

‘
He
’
s bleeding?
’
Verity took Ron by the shoulders and shook him steady.
‘
Now, tell me what
’
s happened
?
Quickly
. Because if he is bleeding, it
’
s important that I know what to tell the doctor. What is Ted doing up the tower, anyway? I thought you had all knocked off work for the day
?’

‘
So we had, miss. The gaffer said that was too windy, so he took us off. We thought—Ted and me—that we was off for the day, so we left our tools behind. But the gaffer, he had another job lined up and he went spare when we said
—’

‘
All right, Ron, cut it.
What happened to Ted
?’

‘
I
’
m tellin
’
you. We was sent back to fetch our kits and just as we was co
m
in
’
down Ted says,
“
That girder we didn
’
t finish f
i
xin
’
this morning looks out of true to me
”
and lays a holdt of it, and the end of it springs free—they
’
re whippy like, see
—
and hits him right here
’
—Ron
’
s fist went to his lower ribs—
‘
and cuts clear into him—Awful!
’

Verity winced too, but realized she must summon at least enough surface composure to serve both Ron and herself.

She said,
‘
Listen. You
’
ve got a first aid cabinet on the site
?
Then take from it cotton wool and linen enough to make a big pad. And scissors to cut through Ted
’
s denims—yes,
cut
—and lay the pad over file wound and hold it on to help to staunch the blood. He
’
s lying down? Then
don
’
t
move him. Just the pad—you understand?
’

It was little enough, but all she felt she could trust to the boy while she summoned expert help and attention for Ted. For a moment she looked after Ron to make sure he went, then ran herself to the telephone to ring Bob
’
s number.

It was
Mrs.
Wales who answered, saying, to Verity
’
s sick dismay, that Bob was out, she didn
’
t know where. She had been resting when he had left.
‘
He could be back any minute, of course. Is it something urgent, dear?
’

Verity explained quickly, adding,
‘
I
’
ll have to call Dr
.
Wilks at Grangeover instead. But ask Bob to come as soon as he gets in, in case he can get here first, will you,
Mrs.
Wales?
’

‘
Of course. Meanwhile, why don
’
t you dial
999
for the Brancaster ambulance to save time?
’

Verity did that after ringing Dr
.
Wilks, only to find him out too, though she left the same message for him as for Bob. Some valuable minutes were used in explaining her right to call the ambulance
out. Then she ran to Matron
’
s room to seek her advice.

At Verity
’
s touch on her shoulder Matron woke at once. But she was dazed by the sedative and at first did not grasp the gravity of Verity
’
s news. When she did,

‘
Is the boy still conscious?
’
she asked.

‘
He was.
’

‘
Then as he mustn
’
t be moved and he can
’
t be brought down until one or other of the doctors and the ambulance come, I
’
ll have to go up to him.
’

‘
You can
’
t
!’

‘
Nonsense. I must
—’
But since the morning
her spine had
‘
locked
’
and the effort even to sit up was too much.

She lay back, sweat beading her forehead.

‘
You
’
re right. I
’
m a broken reed. But if the lad is still losing blood, minutes count. So someone
must
...
One of us
must
—’

Momentarily Verity had to close her eyes against her vision of the tower; the nightmare climb she would not dream of attempting in calm weather, let alone in a gale-force wind. Then, praying she had never told Matron of her fear of heights, she said,
‘
Yes, that means me. What must I do when I get up there?
’

Matron put out a hand and grasped hers.
‘
Verity, my dear, I
’
m sorry. But you do see I
’
ve got to send you? And thank goodness you
’
re trained in
First Aid. So listen
—
You know the first thing
to see to is the bleeding, and if he is still conscious and no help has come, you must put him out.
’

‘
You mean—give him something to do that?
’

‘
Not
by mouth. He might choke. Can you administer an injection, do you think? You
’
ve watched me.
’

Verity nodded doubtfully.
‘
But may I? I mean
—’

‘
Strictly speaking, no. But I
’
ll take full responsibility for both the dose and giving you the order. Circumstances make their own rules. So take the key to the drug cupboard and bring back the D.D. cabinet and a syringe to me.
’

Minutes later—and it was consolation at least that so few had actually passed since Ron came running
—
Verity was at the foot of the first ladder up the scaffolding. She craned upward. A month ago the top platform had been three times her own height lower than it was now and she had funked it then. But it was no good funking it now. Somehow she had to cope
...
had
to. She began to climb.

At first it was no worse than climbing a ladder to reach a high apple, though she would usually choose to forgo the apple. And after all, men and boys swarmed up and down the tower several times a day. Nothing to it, most people would say. And hadn
’
t Ira Cusack gone up these same ladders without a second thought?

But as she went higher Verity knew that reason had as little to do with this primitive panic within her as it had with the fear of thunder in some people or with claustrophobia in others. It wasn
’
t to be reasoned against, only accepted and fought, if you must fight it, as she must. She tried to concentrate on the need for her errand, on Matron
’
s trust that she would be equal to the job when she got there. She peered up to see if she could spot Ron looking down. If she had only thought of it, she might have signalled him down, to make the climb up behind her, guarding her. At least, so far as she could tell, Ted
’
s agonized cries had stopped, which could mean he was no longer aware of pain
...

Feverishly she kept her mind busy as she climbed.
And of course the important thing, people said, was never to allow yourself to look down
—

She looked down.

Far below the earth whirled and tilted, seemed to run up to her, receded
...
steadied for long enough to make her aware that something was crawling on it down there. The something halted. A car. Bob
’
s
or Dr
.
Wilks
’
s, please God
—
But the universe
was tilting again and, sobbing in her throat, she crossed her arms on the rung above her and dropped her head on them, shutting the horror out.

She lay on the ladder, nerving herself to open her eyes and go on. There was a shout from below, but the wind blew away her answering call and she dared not glance down again nor take a hand from the ladder to wave a signal that she was going on up
...
some time.

There was no second shout and perhaps she blacked out briefly. For the next thing she knew was that the ladder was vibrating under someone else
’
s weight on it. Then whoever it was reached a rung or two lower down and his hands were on the uprights at her waist level, his body close behind her own.

She looked at the hands, at the tweed of the sleeves above them. Daniel
’
s hands.
Daniel
’
s
...
?
How could they be? His nearness prevented her turning more than her head as she faltered,
‘
You?
But
—
You
’
re still in Switzerland
...
aren
’
t
you?
’

He was unamused at the absurdity.
‘
Yes. Sliding down the Matterhorn. And what do you think you
’
re doing? Are you mad?
’
he demanded.