by Cathy Sharp
‘Dr Raymond thinks it may be the only way.’
‘Where is she?’ Peter moved towards the pile of concrete and brick rubble that had trapped the old lady. He had to crouch down to look underneath to see her lying there, pinned by her leg and bleeding.
‘Hello, Jessie,’ he said in a calm voice. ‘What did you go and do this for?’
‘Wasn’t my bleedin’ fault,’ Jessie snapped and then she recognised him and gave a cackle of laughter. ‘Got you, did they, doc? Stupid lot – can’t they just get on with it and pull me out?’
‘I’m going to give you an injection so you don’t feel the pain, Jessie – will that be all right?’
‘Long as it’s you, doc. Only bleedin’ hurry up, I’m ’ungry.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you are, Jessie,’ Peter said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
He went back to the other doctors and policemen. ‘Once I’ve given her the morphine, what do you intend to do?’
‘We’ll have to cut her leg off to free her,’ one of the doctors said. ‘That concrete is too heavy to shift and if we leave her any longer, she will die.’
‘Take her leg and you condemn her to a lingering death,’ Peter objected. ‘I think once she’s out for the count I can move her.’
‘Not sure we can let you do that, sir,’ Constable Jones told him. ‘To get her out you’ve got to lift that heavy slab of concrete and it could bring the whole thing down on you.’
‘I need something to prop it with,’ Peter said and one of the firemen produced a handy-looking jack. ‘Yes, that looks good, I’ll use that.’
‘Are you sure you want to take the risk?’ Constable Jones asked while the others looked on and shook their heads.
‘I’ll give yer a hand,’ the young fireman offered. ‘I’m Mike and she reminds me of my gran – fiery old girl.’
‘Thanks,’ Peter said. ‘I’ll tell you when we can start.’
He went back to where Jessie was trapped and then crawled through the narrow aperture to her side. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.
‘I knew yer would come,’ she said just as the needle touched her skin.
Peter looked at the concrete trapping her as she drifted into sleep. He had to lever it up and secure it and then drag her out and get out before the released weight forced the whole thing to collapse.
Crawling back out, he spoke to the young fireman.
‘We’ll lift it easily with the two of us and that jack should hold it long enough to pull her out. As soon as we get her free, we go – understood? The weight won’t hold long.’
‘We know,’ the young fireman said. ‘I wanted to try earlier but they wouldn’t let me – you seem to have more clout.’
‘Let’s get her …’ Peter knew there was no time to waste. Jessie would die if she was left to bleed much longer and the whole lot could come down at any time.
There was just room for the two of them to stand, half bent over and apply the pressure to lever the concrete slab from Jessie’s leg. Had she been awake the pain would have been too much for her to bear, but they had to work swiftly and having her limp and unconscious was the only way. Peter signalled for his helper to drag her out and then to keep going. He could feel the weight shifting and knew if he let go it would slowly collapse.
‘We’re out, sir – get out yourself.’
Peter heard the shout and let go. He heard the cracking from above his head and knew the debris was shifting. Head bent, he started to run in a crouch as fast as he could. He could see the light and knew he was nearly out, but the debris was falling on his shoulders and something hit his head, rendering him unconscious as the whole thing collapsed behind him.
CHAPTER 35
Rose hurried home from work that evening and changed into a pretty dress, fluffed out her hair and applied a little lip rouge and a touch of powder to her nose. She sprayed a few drops of her precious perfume on her wrists and looked at the clock. It was just twenty past seven and Peter would be here shortly.
Downstairs, Beattie and Danny were baking cakes. Beattie pointed to a box on the countertop. ‘Those are for you to take into the ward tomorrow, Rose. Danny baked them and decorated them with butter icing and they’re good.’
‘Thank you, both of you,’ Rose said with a smile. She opened the lid to peep inside. ‘Gosh, they do look lovely – the children and the staff will enjoy these, Danny. You’re so clever.’
‘Well, Beattie showed me how and I do like cooking for people,’ Danny told her and Rose nodded, then asked the question that had been hovering in her mind.
‘Will you mind having to work with Mr Phillips in the woodyard, Danny?’
‘No, I reckon I’ll enjoy it,’ Danny said and looked thoughtful. ‘I can still cook in the evenings and at the weekends and when I’m old enough to look after myself I can decide what I really want to do …’
Rose looked at him with approval. Danny was such a lovely and loving boy and she wondered how a brute like Jim Bryant could have fathered him. It was sad that he’d had such a hard life with his father but she was sure that he would be well looked after by Ted Phillips and Beattie would still be in his life.
The clock had crept round to seven thirty while they talked. Rose fetched her coat and put it over the back of a chair ready. She looked expectantly at the door, wondering where Peter was going to take her.
‘Are you excited?’ Beattie asked and she smiled a little nervously.
‘Yes, excited and nervous,’ Rose told her. ‘I like Peter a lot, Beattie, but it took me ages to trust him and I still feel a bit apprehensive.’
‘I’m sure he cares for you,’ Beattie said. ‘Anyone would.’
Rose saw her glance at the clock. The hands hadn’t moved much even though each second seemed like a minute.
At a quarter to eight, Beattie put the kettle on. ‘He must have been delayed,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it was to do with that big accident, Rose. The hospitals must have been overrun with emergencies.’
‘Yes, they were, but I thought he would let me know if he couldn’t get away …’
She sat down and drank the tea that Beattie offered and then a small piece of cake when the minutes kept ticking by and still Peter didn’t come. At nine o’clock, Rose ate a sandwich and put her coat back in the hall cupboard. Peter wouldn’t come now. She felt upset but not angry because she was still willing to believe that he’d been detained by his work – and yet surely, he could’ve got a message to her somehow?
It was a quarter to ten and Rose was about to make a cup of cocoa to take up to bed when a knock came at the front door. She ran to answer it, staring in shock as she saw Matron standing there.
‘Matron!’ Rose cried. ‘What is it – what has happened?’
‘May I come in, Sister Rose?’
‘Yes – yes, of course.’ Rose led the way into the hall and then the kitchen where Beattie had taken over making their cocoa. She turned to face Matron and discovered that she was shaking. ‘Please tell me what has brought you here?’
‘It was lucky I was still at the Rosie, as I was about to leave for home to pack my things. As you know, I’m going away for a few days with Lady Rosalie and her son – however, there is another train I can catch later. I thought this more important, Rose …’ She paused, then, ‘I received a message from the London Hospital,’ Matron said, looking upset. ‘As you know there was a terrible explosion that hurt several people and killed one today …’
Rose went cold all over. ‘Please, tell me …’
‘I believe you may have had an arrangement to meet Dr Clark this evening?’
‘Yes.’ Rose sat down because her legs were suddenly weak. ‘We were going to dinner.’
Matron nodded, looking serious. ‘I’m told he was a hero – went into a dangerous situation and propped up the debris so that an old lady could be rescued. Unfortunately, before he could get out it collapsed on him, trapping him and rendering him unconscious.’
Rose licked her lips. �
�Is-is he still alive?’
Matron looked at her for a moment before replying. ‘Yes, at the moment, although they are not certain whether he will last the night. And if he does …’ She took a deep breath. ‘It may be that his spine is crushed. It’s early days and they can’t be sure he’ll walk again even if he lives.’
A cry of despair left Rose’s lips even though she wasn’t aware of it. Beattie came to stand by her, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
‘I am so very sorry to give you this news,’ Matron said sadly. ‘Of course, he is lucky to be alive. If it had not been for Constable Jones and a young fireman, who pulled him out, he might be dead already.’
‘I must go to the hospital,’ Rose said. ‘Do you think they will let me see him?’
‘Apparently, he had your name on something inside his jacket pocket and that’s why they contacted me. I’m not sure if he has any close relatives left alive – so I imagine you will be considered his next of kin. So, yes, they will allow you to visit, Rose.’
‘Thank you, I’ll go now,’ Rose said and looked at Beattie. ‘I’ll stop at the hospital all night if need be so don’t sit up for me.’
‘And I shall not expect you in tomorrow,’ Matron said. ‘You will let me know if you need more time off?’
‘Yes – and thank you for coming, Matron.’
‘It was the least I could do.’
Rose hurried to fetch her coat and came back with it and her handbag. Beattie embraced her. ‘I’ll be here for you, love, but don’t worry about us.’ She looked at Rose anxiously. ‘How will you get to the hospital?’
‘I’ll get a taxi cab from the rank on the corner of Silver Street. They work until midnight.’
‘You’ve got enough money?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Rose said, gave her a quick hug and left.
It was still fairly light because it was a warm summer evening and Rose walked quickly to where she knew the taxis waited for business. Her heart was beating like a drum and Matron’s words were burning in her head, but Rose wouldn’t let them in. Peter couldn’t die – not now, when they’d just found each other. If he lived, she could cope with the rest, she’d decided that instantly. Rose was a nurse and knew how to look after people. If he couldn’t walk, they would get him a wheelchair and she would devote her life to caring for him.
Doctors made the worst patients, all the nurses said so, but Rose would do whatever it took to give him the best quality of life he could manage – it would take patience from both of them and she knew that a vigorous man like Peter Clark would resent it. No, she wouldn’t let herself expect the worst. Sometimes miracles happened and perhaps Peter’s injuries wouldn’t be as bad as they feared. But first he had to survive the night – and if she was with him, perhaps she could somehow will him to live …
Sarah gave a little cry of relief when she saw Steve come in at last. He was late home and she’d guessed he was caught up in the terrible accident and had spent the afternoon trying not to worry too much. Then she saw the bruises to his face and the sling supporting his arm.
‘Steve! What happened?’
‘It’s quite a long story, love,’ he told her. ‘Put the kettle on and I’ll tell you.’
As Sarah made tea and a ham sandwich, Steve’s story unfolded. He’d been called to the accident along with half of the police in London’s East End. He described how they’d all stood about, wondering what to do, until Dr Clark had turned up and insisted on going in and dragging the old lady, Jessie, out to save her leg.
‘And now he’s in hospital fighting for his life,’ he said as she put the tea in front of him. ‘Mike Corrigan and I managed to pull the debris off him and get him into the ambulance but he looked to be in a bad way.’
‘It was a brave but foolish thing to do,’ Sarah said and Steve nodded.
‘Yes, incredibly brave. The others were all for cutting her leg off to free her without disturbing what amounted to a ton or more of debris but he said that if they did that she might as well be dead because that was what would happen to her, stuck in an old people’s home.’
‘And now he’s at death’s door.’
‘The medics who patched me up weren’t hopeful. He had a concrete block fall on his spine and a smaller piece hit his head, so two serious injuries. It will be a miracle if he lives – and if he does, they’re not sure he’ll walk again …’
‘Poor devil!’ Sarah said and shuddered. ‘Does he have a family?’
‘He had Sister Rose’s name on a piece of paper in his pocket with her address so they’ve taken her as his next of kin, because no one knows.’
‘I believe she’s always liked him a lot,’ Sarah said. ‘Poor Sister Rose – she and Beattie are losing Danny and now this.’
‘Yes, it doesn’t seem right, but I think Ted Phillips will play fair with them over Danny.’
‘Yes, but that doesn’t help Sister Rose much if the man she loves is either dead or a cripple for the rest of his life.’ Sarah looked at him sadly, distressed for the nurse she liked as a friend.
‘No, it doesn’t, Sarah. I wish I’d stopped him doing it now, but it seemed such a good thing to do.’
‘Heroic but foolish in hindsight,’ Sarah said as her husband demolished his ham sandwich. ‘You wouldn’t ever do anything so daft, would you?’ She looked at him anxiously.
‘I’ve got too much to lose,’ Steve told her. ‘I have a family to look after, Sarah and I think Dr Clark probably doesn’t have much family these days. Not that I can claim to know him.’
‘I don’t think many of us do. Jenny Brown was seeing him for a while but she said he didn’t talk about family and she didn’t ask.’
Steve nodded. ‘Well, he’s going to need someone, so let’s hope Sister Rose is willing to visit and help out a bit. I’ll see what I can do when the time comes, naturally, but we don’t know he’ll survive the night yet …’
It was eleven thirty the next morning when Rose returned home. Beattie came to her at once, taking her coat and bag and looking at her anxiously.
‘Are you all right, love?’
‘I’m tired,’ Rose admitted. She glanced at her friend, her face creasing in distress as she struggled against her tears. ‘He made it through the night, Beattie, and about an hour ago he opened his eyes and knew me.’ She choked back a sob. ‘He apologised for standing me up!’
‘So, he isn’t damaged up here, then?’ Beattie touched the side of her head. That had, of course, been one fear and it was a relief to know he wasn’t brain damaged. ‘Thank God for that.’
‘Yes,’ Rose said, and a glimmer of a smile showed. ‘They think he will live now unless he has a relapse, which could still happen. But they also say he can’t move his legs …’
‘Oh, Rose! I’m so sorry!’
Rose shook her head, brushing away her tears. ‘I’ll take care of him, Beattie. ‘I’ll work shorter hours and look after him and we’ll manage somehow.’
‘You could bring him here,’ Beattie offered instantly. ‘He can have Danny’s room and we’ll share the nursing. I mean, I’m no nurse but I can help wash him and bring him drinks and food.’
‘Oh, Beattie!’ The relief showed in Rose’s face. ‘I couldn’t ask such a sacrifice of you.’
‘What sacrifice? Do you think I’d be happy if you had to move out and live in poverty to look after him? No, Rose, you’re my family and I’ll stand by you, love. If he lives long enough to leave hospital you will bring him here and we’ll share the nursing. That way you can keep on earning a living, for how else would you live?’
‘They threw away the mould when they made you, Beattie,’ Rose told her, eyes glistening. ‘I can’t tell you how much that means to me.’
Beattie hugged her. ‘I was lonely before you came into my life, Rose, and then you brought me Danny. I know he won’t be here all the time, but he’ll visit and so will Ron and Ted – and Ted will give us a hand with whatever we need.’
Rose looked at her.
Beattie seemed pretty sure of Ted Phillips’ willingness to help. Their friendship must have got stronger without her realising it. She smiled at her friend and thanked her.
‘I need to get some sleep and then I’ll go back to the hospital. Thank you, Beattie, you’ve made things so much easier.’
Rose wasn’t sure Peter Clark would accept their help and his grandmother, from what he’d told her, was too old and frail to get involved. He was bound to feel resentful and angry when he realised that he might never walk unaided again. A life confined to a wheelchair wasn’t much of a life for a man who had been fit and healthy until he risked everything to help an elderly woman. Tears stung her eyes but she brushed them away impatiently. She couldn’t afford tears. She had to be strong, because Peter would only accept help if she convinced him it wouldn’t bother her to look after him.
All she wanted to do was to put her arms about him, hold him and tell him she loved him, but if she did that he would probably decide he couldn’t ruin her life and go off somewhere to convalesce alone – or he might turn his face to the wall and decide it wasn’t worth the fight.
CHAPTER 36
Being a doctor made it all too easy to diagnose your own problem, Peter thought as he lay in bed and realised that he couldn’t feel his toes and couldn’t move his legs. He felt a wave of regret and self-pity as he understood that, even if he lived, he might be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
‘Sod it!’ he muttered and the nurse tending the cuts on his legs looked at him anxiously. He shook his head. ‘No, you didn’t hurt me, nurse. I can’t feel a damned thing …’
A look of pity flashed in her soft eyes and he felt a spurt of anger. He wasn’t a poor, helpless creature to be pitied or cried over and, in that moment, he determined that he was going to live and, if it was humanly possible, he would regain some kind of mobility. Peter knew the odds: his spine had been damaged and if it was just bruising and minor damage, he might get some mobility back. However, if the cord had been cut or too badly squashed, then it would take a bloody miracle to get him on his feet again. But whatever, he wouldn’t give up and he wasn’t going to be pitied.