Promise the Doctor (19 page)

They found Sam outside the door of his study. Inside the room the light still burned on his desk and on the walls, but it was evident he had been intending to go somewhere ... maybe, Aileen thought now, in pursuit of his son, when the heart attack brought on no doubt by his own rage had overtaken him.

‘Loosen his collar, please,’ she directed the man, ‘and then switch on all the heating you can find. Get some blankets ... anything,’ and even as he started to obey her instructions she was dialling the number of Fernbank.

CHAPTER XIX

Quentin rose, stretched and yawned, smiling across at Joy, who was beginning to feel rather tired after her unexpected evening of gaiety, the evening which had started so happily and ended with Michael’s unexpected entrance. Michael was in his usual place, on the low chair beside Lana’s couch, and afterwards Joy wondered If it had been this instinctive placing of himself in the usual position which had prompted Quentin’s next words.

‘We must do this sort of thing more often, Sister Benyon!’ he said teasingly. ‘After all, all work and no play isn’t good for either Jack or Jill!’

‘It
has
been fun,’ Joy agreed, accompanying him to the door, which in itself was something unusual, but which he seemed in some undefined way to be waiting for tonight. ‘I wish that hadn’t happened between Michael and his father, though.’

‘It had to come,’ Quentin told her, opening the door. ‘Sam will have to remember that his children are grownup people now, with minds and lives of their own, and that they’re both intelligent people, and therefore he ought not to expect them to behave like a couple of puppets of which he holds the strings. He wouldn’t respect them if they never stood up to him. Great heavens!’ he broke off suddenly as he stood out on the top step. ‘What on earth’s happening? Come round to the back of the house with me, Joy.’

There was no doubt as to what ‘that’ was when they reached the back garden of Fernbank. The stacks of timber, some of the chalets and heaven alone knew what else were well ablaze in the half-created holiday village next door.

‘Back to the phone,’ Quentin directed. ‘We must get the fire brigade.’

‘What could have happened?’ Joy was asking the questions as she hurried beside him and he flung the answers over his shoulder.

‘Who knows? Lots of things could have started a conflagration like that, I suppose. That will be for the police, the insurance companies and, I suppose, the fire brigade to decide. Right now...’

Before he had time to finish the sentence the telephone shrilled loudly. Quentin was nearest, and he snatched up the receiver, determined to deal as quickly as possible with whoever their caller might be.

‘Quentin?’ He recognized Aileen’s voice, strained though it was. ‘It’s Mrs. Benyon,’ she told him. ‘I came to the Mount. I felt I
had
to come. It’s as well I did. Sam’s ... he’s lying on the floor outside the door of his study. He’s cold and clammy to touch, and his face is a dreadful grey colour ... and I don’t like the sound of his breathing.’

‘Feel in his coat pocket or look on his desk,’ Quentin said crisply. ‘He carries—or should carry—little glass capsules for these attacks. Break one in a handkerchief and hold it under his nose. He also has some small white tablets. Give him two, and keep him as warm as you can. Loosen his collar and any tight clothing...’ He heard her quick whisper that she had complied with what he had said except for the capsules and tablets. ‘Good,’ he went on cheerfully. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be along in a few minutes, but when he comes round keep him as quiet as you possibly can, there’s a dear.’

‘What is it?’ Joy asked. ‘Who was that? It sounded like Mother’s voice from where I’m standing.’

‘It was.’ Quentin was dialling the emergency service as he spoke. She waited until he had given the details of the address, telephone number and service required, then as he hung up, assured the brigade would be on its way almost before he had time for anything more, he turned to Joy.

‘Sam’s had a heart attack,’ he said briefly. ‘He knows he ought not to allow his emotions—particularly his anger—to get the better of him, but don’t worry. He’ll be all right. Your mother appears to have coped extremely well. If you’ll just let Michael know about the fire
and
about his father, I’ll be on my way to the Mount to see what I can do for Sam.’

Joy lost no time in complying with Quentin’s orders, for orders they were. She went first into the living-room and told the others what had happened, then raced upstairs to hammer on the doors of the two rooms occupied by Pete and Michael. ‘She shouted her information between the two doors, and within minutes the two young men, who had barely had time to start to undress, were downstairs and out in the garden looking at the holocaust over the fence and wall which divided Fernbank from the proposed holiday village.

‘It’s got a good hold,’ Pete muttered. ‘It looks as though it’s consuming something highly inflammable.’

‘That’s the stack of creosoted boards,’ Michael burst out so suddenly and so loudly that Pete jumped. ‘If it gets along that way the next thing’s the petrol and diesel stores for the machines and vehicles, then the cabin with Dad’s plans and papers. I left them there today ... I intended to take them home with me and put them in the safe and I forgot.’

He was gone before Pete had realized what he was about to do, and from inside the house they could hear Lana calling at the top of her voice, demanding to be carried out to ‘see’.

‘We can carry her between us.’ Joy glanced at Pete. ‘Chair fashion.’

Pete nodded, but he wanted to be active, doing something, anything to help this conflagration from
spreading
. They carried Lana out of doors to where Jenny had already placed a chair, one of the old-fashioned armchairs with high backs and wooden arm rests
which had been part of Miss Muriel’s legacy. Emma, who had stayed to don a warm coat, came out then with a thick travel rag which she tucked round the shivering girl in the chair.

‘I’ll go and call the twins,’ Jenny muttered. ‘They’ll want to see this ... it’s a sight they’ll never see again throughout their lives, I hope.’ But she was too late. The twins had heard Joy’s call to Pete and Michael and were already glued firmly to the attic windows, resisting Jenny’s entreaties to ‘Come down from there! If the fire spreads, or a spark or something catches on Fernbank, you’ll both be trapped!’

She went on her way to Aileen’s room, opening the door when she received no answer to her knocking, and when she came down, white-faced, to tell Joy her mother was missing, the girl realized for the first time just how much their little family had evidently come to mean to the devoted couple who shared their home.

‘Don’t be so upset, Jenny.’ Joy put her arm round the old woman’s bowed shoulders. ‘Mother’s all right. She telephoned a while ago ... that was her call, just as we were going to ring the fire brigade. She went to the Mount. It’s as well she did. Mr. Bainbridge had had a heart attack, and if she hadn’t gone...’

‘That’s why the fire’s got such a good hold, then?’ Jenny muttered, although it was plain she wasn’t really thinking about the fire or the holiday village.

‘I suppose so,’ Joy agreed. ‘Come and sit down outside. You can keep an eye on Lana, if you will, and make certain none of the sparks get on to her rag. I’m going to see if I can do anything to help.’

‘I don’t suppose so.’ Jenny listened intently. ‘I heard the Vanmouth brigade come along a few minutes ago. That’s another one ... and another ... I should leave it to the firemen, Miss Joy. It’s their job, and they’re trained to know what they’re doing.’

There didn’t appear to be anything much anyone could do. From their vantage point at the attic windows the twins, excited beyond belief, shouted down reports as to what was going on.

‘They’re playing some special stuff from their hosepipes on to the far corner,’ Rex informed them. ‘Looks like that foam stuff they use sometimes, like a froth off the top of the washing machine. I expect that’s because there’s petrol or something there.’

‘Where’s Michael?’ Lana’s urgent fingers were pulling at the fringe of her rag, her eyes were wild with fright, and she looked round in a state of such distress that Joy was instantly by her side.

‘He’s around somewhere, darling,’ she said quietly. ‘Maybe he’s gone to meet Quentin and his father ... and our mother. She was at the Mount. Mr. Bainbridge had worked himself into another heart attack.’

‘That was what Michael was afraid of,’ Lana said feverishly. ‘He’s been warned not to get excited, and he seems to spend most of his waking life in just that state.’

‘There’s Quentin, with Mother and Mr. Bainbridge,’ she said quickly. ‘I must go and find out if there’s anything I can do.’

‘Where’s Michael?’ Sam demanded as soon as Joy drew level with them. ‘I must see him. I said some dreadful things to him a little while ago.’

‘Take it easy, Mr. Bainbridge.’ Quentin had gone inside and brought out another chair which he placed on the garden almost beside Lana’s own. ‘Sit down and keep calm, please! There isn’t a thing you can do to help. Everything’s being handled by the brigades, and they seem to be winning.’

‘I want Michael!’ Sam reiterated in an angry tone. ‘If I don’t tell him now that I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean half I said, I may never do.’

‘You may never have the chance, sir,’ Pete said quietly, coming to stand between Sam’s chair and that upon which Lana sat, suddenly tense, her arms resting on the wooden arms of the chair. ‘He ... went round there. Said he had to get some plans and papers and things from the cabin.’

‘Merciful heaven!’ Sam’s jaw dropped and Joy took an instinctive step forward, fearing a second attack, but he made a tremendous effort towards self-control, and when he spoke his voice was suddenly that of a very old man. ‘If he comes back all right,’ he muttered almost to himself, ‘he can ... do as he likes from now on. In fact it might be a good idea to hand my part in the business over to him completely. I’m getting beyond all this sort of thing, and he has plenty of sound ideas of his own, if only he’s spared to come back to us.’

Aileen came and stood by the chair. Wordlessly she picked up one of his strong hands as they rested on his knees, but neither of them spoke a word. There was no need of words at that moment. With all her heart she was praying silently that the ‘miracle’ which Michael had joked about earlier in the evening would really happen, and that when all this was over, Michael would be safe and Sam have learned his lesson without having had to pay too high a price to do so. ‘I’m going to have a word with one of the firemen,’ Pete said suddenly, close beside them. ‘I’ve got an idea...’

He too was gone, running round to where he had caught sight of the man he recognized as being the mechanic in charge of the fire service vehicles. He had met the man on the day he had brought Joy to her interview at St Lucy’s, for Barry Vermont, the fireman in question, had been attending the casualty block, having injured his finger two days before.

‘There’s a man somewhere in that lot, ‘Pete jerked his head in the general direction of the hottest and fiercest part of the fire. ‘Young Mr. Bainbridge. Your folks appear to be getting things under control there, but I was wondering about getting him out. Can you manipulate a crane?’ he demanded.

‘I manipulate the turntable ladder,’ Vermont returned, grinning. ‘Don’t see there’s all that much difference ... why?’

‘There’s a crane over there,’ Pete pointed, ‘a cubic yard effort. They take materials around in it in a thing like a big bucket. I was thinking ... if we could get it just in front of the cabin...’

‘I get you,’ Barry nodded. ‘It’s simple ... but he’ll burn his hands on the metal, though there’s nothing we can do about that.’ He was hurrying as he talked and spoke over his shoulder. ‘How did you know it was there?’ he queried.

‘Because I did an inventory of this site only two days ago,’ Pete answered. ‘Look, there he is now!’

In the garden of Fernbank everyone was tense with excitement. There seemed little or no danger now of the fire spreading to their own abode, but there still remained the danger of explosion, and already the chief of the brigade had warned them they should seek safety.

‘You’ll not get much of a blast here, I agree,’ he had told them as they demurred, ‘but I had to warn you. The risk’s your own.’

Lana, sitting erect in her chair, had her gaze riveted to the cabin where so much of importance—at least according to Michael—was kept. She knew there was a small safe, but he had told her often it wasn’t ‘one would expect Dad to have, not even on a site ...’ and instinct told her that was where he had gone. She tensed in every muscle as she saw him suddenly appear at the scorched and blackened remains of the door of the hut, a dazed look on his face, but the all-important papers and files clasped firmly under his arm.

Deftly Barry swung the big crane round until the huge bucket hovered close to the ground before him. With all her heart Lana willed him to move, to take the few steps forward and to step into the bucket and be lifted to safety.

Quentin, standing with Joy, saw the look on the girl’s face as she half lifted herself out of the chair, raising herself by the strong wooden ar
m
rests. This was the moment for which he had been waiting, this would show the results of all the patient weeks of persuasion, coaxing and encouragement he had devoted to the sister of the girl he wanted to help more than anything in the world. Gently, careful not to startle Lana, he touched Joy on the arm, and together they watched as Lana, looking exactly as though she were walking in her sleep, rose unaided from the hard supporting chair and took one hesitant step forward.

Beside her Jenny caught back the little cry which sprang to her lips. Joy’s fingers, digging into her arm, told the older woman that the miracle she was certain she was witnessing was by no means unhoped-for or unexpected, and she sat silent, her lips moving in wordless prayer, as she watched, along with Joy and Quentin, Lana hold out her arms, standing upright, looking straight at Michael.

He had seen her, and’ the joy in his face had to be seen to be believed. With his free hand he signalled to the fireman in control of the crane, and, like a majestic prehistoric monster, the bucket was swung high in the air, Michael barely visible inside it, and gently and efficiently lowered into the garden of Fernbank on the other side of the fence.