by Anne Mather
‘You keep out of the way, Holly,’ ordered Lucinda, herself emerging from the back of the station wagon. ‘Samuel and the doctor are capable of carrying Mr Kane into the house. You got his bed all turned down and ready? Good. Now, you go and put the kettle on. We may be needing some hot water bottles.’
‘Hot water bottles?’ echoed Holly blankly, trying to catch a closer glimpse of Morgan over Lucinda’s unyielding shoulder. ‘Is he all right? Is he still unconscious? Luci—you’ve got to tell me! I’ve been almost——’
‘He’s going to be all right.’ It was the younger Dr Harding who answered her, coming round to the rear of the vehicle to open up the doors. ‘But he’s chilled to the bone, and there’s always the danger of pneumonia. I suggest you do as Mrs Fletcher says and leave his immediate care to us.’
Holly swallowed her indignation and made a helpless gesture. What could she do, after all? she reflected. It wasn’t as if she had any first aid training even. That was one thing the expensive finishing school had not covered.
Nevertheless, she was grateful for the reassuring smile Simon Harding cast in her direction. He really had proved to be a tower of strength, and without his intervention, she didn’t know what she would have done. His uncle had been in no fit state to attend to anyone, and she had been unutterably grateful when Simon had offered his services. It turned out that he used to spend his holidays on the island, too, though he was some years older than Holly and therefore never a part of her scene. However, he did know Stumper’s Cove as well as she did, and it had been at his suggestion that she came straight back to the house to prepare for the patient’s arrival.
The waiting had seemed endless, and with darkness falling Holly had begun to fear the worst. But they were back now, she told herself fiercely, trying not to think how long Morgan might have been lying unconscious, and she held herself stiffly in control as Samuel and Simon Harding carried him into the house on a make-shift stretcher.
To her relief, his eyes were open now, though he was very pale and there was a bandage circling his head. However his lips parted wryly when he caught sight of Holly’s agonised face. ‘I told you I was no good with horses,’ he murmured, his grey eyes dark with fatigue, and she was relieved that he didn’t seem to remember the reason he had been riding Trader.
‘Are—are you all right?’ she stammered huskily, but before he could answer, they had transported him through the kitchen and into the hall beyond.
‘You got that kettle on yet?’ asked Lucinda sharply, bringing up the rear, and Holly flushed.
‘Yes,’ she said defensively, gesturing towards the stove, and Lucinda nodded.
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes, after I see what’s needed,’ she averred, bustling after the men, and Holly slumped down on to the bench by the table, feeling completely useless.
Samuel’s appearance in the doorway gave her some respite, and she lifted her head to look at him. ‘Is he going to be all right?’ she asked, unable to wait until Lucinda was prepared to enlighten her, and the boy shrugged.
‘I don’t think it’s anything serious,’ he replied after a moment. ‘The doc did say there was some swelling at the base of his spine, but he doesn’t seem to be paralysed or anything.’
‘Paralysed!’ Holly was horrified. ‘You mean—he could be?’
‘No.’ Samuel hunched his shoulders. ‘Aren’t you listening to me, Miss Holly? I said he’s not paralysed. He can move his legs. The doc checked that out.’
Holly swallowed. ‘And was he conscious—when you got to him, I mean?’
‘Only just.’ Samuel grimaced. ‘I think he was still in a state of shock. You know—what with passing out and everything.’
‘Hmm.’ Holly cupped her chin on one hand, and expelled a heavy sigh. ‘Oh, Lord! It’s all my fault! If he really has hurt himself, my father’s going to hit the roof!’
‘And is that all that matters to you, young lady? What your father will say?’ Lucinda’s reappearance, carrying the blanket they had used to wrap Morgan in while he was lying on the ground, caused Holly no small discomfort. But she looked at the housekeeper defensively, hoping Lucinda had not heard everything she had said, and the black woman clicked her tongue with some impatience. ‘It’s lucky for you Mr Kane ain’t seriously hurt,’ she declared, bundling the dirty blanket into the washing machine. ‘Encouraging him to ride that animal! In heaven’s name, were you hoping he’d break his neck?’
No.’ Holly was mutinous. ‘And I didn’t encourage him to ride Trader. He—he just took off on him.’ She paused, and then added weakly, ‘I—suppose he wanted to see what it was like.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’ Lucinda was scathing. ‘What really happened out there? That’s what I’d like to know. Must have been something for him to ride off and leave you!’
Holly shrugged. ‘We—we had a difference of opinion,’ she mumbled reluctantly, avoiding the housekeeper’s knowing gaze. ‘As you might have expected. I didn’t exactly invite him here, did I?’
Lucinda regarded her for several seconds longer, and then abandoned her efforts. For the moment she had enough to do, coping with the doctor’s demands, but Holly knew better than to suppose she had heard the last of it.
For the next half hour, the housekeeper was kept busy, running up and downstairs with cups of tea and hot water bottles, helping Simon Harding make his patient comfortable. The ugly gash on Morgan’s temple had to be cleansed and re-dressed; several other cuts and bruises had to be attended to; and there were soiled dressings to remove, and blood-stained dishes to be sterilised; a hundred-and-one small duties to be attended to before the doctor came downstairs again.
By the time he did, Holly was tense and apprehensive, still not entirely convinced that Morgan was going to be all right. When she heard the heavier footsteps on the stairs, she came to the door of her father’s study where she had been waiting, and without hesitation Simon Harding walked to meet her.
The lamps had been lit, but even in their warm glow Holly’s face was still pale. Her eyes were wide and anxious, and there was a revealing tremor about her lips. The fears she had been endeavouring to bank down were still very much in evidence, and the young man felt his senses stir at her unguarded vulnerability.
‘Is he going to be all right?’
Although she had already asked that question of both Samuel and Lucinda, Holly couldn’t prevent the words tumbling from her tongue. She had to have his reassurance, the reassurance of someone with first-hand knowledge of Morgan’s condition, and Simon gave her a gentle smile before stepping past her into the room.
‘Do you think I could have a drink?’ he suggested, nodding towards the tray still residing on the cabinet, and Holly quickly gathered her wits.
‘Of course,’ she said, walking stiffly across the room. ‘What would you like? Rum? Whisky? Sherry?’
‘Just a can of Coke, if you don’t mind,’ Simon responded easily, following her. ‘Yes. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter if it’s not chilled.’
The Coke looked unpleasantly warm, but Simon didn’t seem to mind. He swallowed half the contents of the can at a gulp and then, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he surveyed her with calm deliberation.
‘He’s comfortable,’ he said, indicating that she should sit down, but Holly was too tense to relax.
‘Comfortable?’ she echoed. ‘What does that mean? Is he going to be all right or isn’t he? Samuel said something about your being concerned about paralysis. There—there’s no fear of that, is there?’
Simon considered for a moment, and then shook his head. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘No, I’m pretty sure that’s not a problem we’re going to have to deal with. I suppose Samuel was referring to the fact that there is some swelling around the spinal area. As far as I can ascertain at the moment, that’s all it is—swelling. A natural result of his fall, wouldn’t you say? That cove is honeycombed with exposed roots. My guess is he injured both his head and his back by falling on them.�
�
Holly nodded. ‘And—and when will you know for sure?’
‘Whether the swelling means anything more serious?’ He shrugged. ‘About a week, I guess.’
‘A week!’ Holly gulped. ‘Ha—have you told—Mr Kane that?’
‘I assume he knows,’ remarked Simon drily. ‘He’s pretty stiff. I doubt if he’ll even be able to get out of bed for the next few days. But as soon as he can, we’ll take him into the hospital in Charlottesville for some X-rays.’
Holly caught her breath. ‘I see.’
Simon frowned. ‘You do realise Mr Kane won’t be able to leave for at least ten days?’ he exclaimed. ‘I understand he works for your father. I think you should let him know.’
Holly nodded again. ‘Yes. I think so, too.’
‘Well …’ Simon smiled now. His professional mission accomplished, he evidently felt able to be more expansive. ‘I hope I’ve been of some service.’
‘Oh——’ Holly lifted her head. ‘You know you have.
I—I don’t know what I’d have done with your—your uncle——’
‘… much the worse for wear,’ filled in Simon drily, when she faltered. ‘I know. The old man’s just let things go since my aunt died. That’s why I’m here. My father was concerned about him.’
Holly listened, trying to feign interest in the Hardings’ affairs while her brain buzzed with the implications of what Simon had so casually related. Morgan was going to have to stay here, at least for another ten days. And although that might suit her purposes, she could well imagine how her father was going to react.
‘I always liked the island,’ Simon was saying now, and Holly made a concerted effort to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘I may just decide to stay, after all. I know it’s what my father is hoping for. But perhaps that’s because he and my mother are hoping to retire here themselves in about five years.’
Holly blinked. ‘You’re—you’re thinking of taking over your uncle’s practice?’ she ventured, realising she had not been paying attention, and Simon nodded.
‘That’s what I said,’ he remarked ruefully. ‘I guess you weren’t listening. What’s the matter? Don’t you want an uninvited guest?’
‘Oh, no.’ Holly made a helpless gesture, realising her reactions could be misconstrued. ‘I—er—it’s just—I know Mr Kane will be expected back in London. He—he’s my father’s personal assistant, you see, and—well, he—my father, that is—isn’t going to be very pleased.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Simon chuckled. ‘You think your father’s going to blame you. Well, I shouldn’t worry about it. It’s not as if Mr Kane isn’t old enough to make his own mistakes. I daresay he’s more concerned about what his wife’s going to say. He is married, isn’t he? I seem to recall him mentioning something about his sons.’
Holly’s nerves tightened. ‘He—he’s divorced,’ she answered quickly, twisting her hands together. ‘I—is there anything special we should do to help him? I mean—I assume you want us to keep him in bed.’
‘That shouldn’t prove too much of a problem,’ responded the doctor equably. ‘Not in the immediate future, anyway. And don’t worry. I’ll be back to see him again in the morning. For tonight, I’ve given him a sedative, so he should sleep. Your housekeeper has my instructions. I don’t think you’ll find any difficulties. Mrs Fletcher seems perfectly capable of handling the situation.’
Holly silently agreed with him but, after he had gone, she couldn’t resist the temptation to see Morgan for herself. After all, she had been instrumental in causing his accident, however many excuses she might find for herself.
Morgan was lying flat on his back when she tiptoed into the bedroom. His eyes were closed, and the lamplight cast hollowing shadows across his cheeks. The bandage she had noticed earlier looked very white against his hair, but less so against his skin. His usual tan had abnormally receded, and even his lips had a bluish tinge. Lucinda had obviously arranged the bedding so that it covered his chest, but he had pushed it back to his waist. In consequence, there was a feathering of goose flesh across his body, which contrasted sharply with the moistness of his skin. He was sweating, yet he was shivering, too, and Holly’s hands trembled as she pushed them down the seams of her trousers.
‘What do you want?’
Morgan’s enquiry set her nerves jangling, and she saw to her dismay that his eyes were open now. His earlier mockery, which might have been for Lucinda’s benefit, had quite disappeared, and his weariness was palpable as he looked at her through narrowed lids.
‘I—I came to see if—if there was anything I could do,’ she stammered awkwardly, moving towards the bed. ‘How do you feel? Are—are you in pain? Is there anything I can get you?’
‘Like a telephone?’ enquired Morgan flatly. His mouth compressed. ‘How long am I supposed to stay here?’
‘I thought Dr Harding had told you.’
‘No. He only said I should rest up for a couple of days. Unfortunately, he does not know your father. Where Andrew Forsyth is concerned, sprained backs don’t exist.’
Holly felt terrible. ‘It’s all my fault.’
‘You could say that.’ Morgan was dry. ‘However, you were not responsible for my ineptitude.’ He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. ‘I must have been crazy!’
Holly licked her lips. ‘You mean—you mean—to ride off on Trader?’
‘That, too,’ said Morgan grimly. ‘But I was thinking of something else.’
Holly sighed. ‘It’s not important.’
‘Oh, I agree!’ Morgan was emphatic. ‘However, it happened, and I have to deal with it.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I behaved like a fool, and there’s no excuse for that. I’m sorry.’
Holly held up her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does.’ Morgan’s lids sagged for a moment, then he forced his eyes open again. ‘Damn Harding!’ he muttered. ‘Whatever it was he gave me is making my brain sluggish.’ He blinked rapidly before adding, ‘Before I flake out, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll get in touch with your father. I was going to telex him myself tomorrow, but now I think you’d better use the phone. I assume there are phones in Charlottesville you can use.’
Holly shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’
‘What do you mean, you suppose so?’ Morgan’s eyes glittered for a moment, but he was growing weary. She could see it.
‘I mean—we’ll talk again in the morning,’ said Holly, the anxiety that had been gnawing at her for the past few hours giving way to an unsteady sense of relief. Morgan was going to be all right. She was suddenly convinced of it. And, although she had her father’s anger to face, she had been granted an unexpected term of reprieve.
CHAPTER SIX
HOLLY drove home from Charlottesville with a heavy heart. For once, she had not found solace in her work at the school, and even Paul Bergerac’s clowning had not been able to lift the sense of depression that was gripping her. Stephen had been sympathetic, of course, but she could not confide her problems to him. In fact, all the members of the school staff had offered their commiserations to Morgan, and she could hardly complain about his continued presence when it wasn’t his fault.
No, what troubled Holly most was the realisation that what had begun as a ploy to evoke her father’s anger with Morgan was fast becoming something else. Since that fateful morning at the slave village, she was finding it increasingly difficult to understand her own feelings, and while she kept telling herself that nothing had changed, she knew it had.
Not that Morgan seemed to share her dilemma. On the contrary, since he had arrived on the island his attitude towards her had veered from studied tolerance to outright contempt, the latter culminating in the row they had had two days ago.
It had been her fault, of course. She had not done what he had asked her to do, and she had known that sooner or later she would be called to account. Even so, had not Lucinda chosen to play advocate, she might have been able to delay the evil day.
‘Don’t you think you ought to go and see the man?’ she had argued the day after Holly was supposed to have spoken to her father on the telephone. ‘I think you owe it to him to tell him exactly what your Daddy said, don’t you?’
Holly was sitting on the verandah at the time, one bare foot resting on the slatted wood two steps down, her other leg hooked up in front of her to support the sketch pad she was using. She had been intent on her subject, the charcoal moving swiftly and surely across the paper, blocking out the insistent voice of her conscience. But Lucinda’s intervention had been sharp and unannounced, and Holly started violently when the irate tones interrupted her.
Tilting her head mutinously, her thumb smudging the unwary stroke the housekeeper’s question had instigated, Holly had endeavoured to maintain her independence. ‘I’ll see him later,’ she answered carelessly, without looking up. ‘Oh—and don’t make me any lunch, will you? I’ll just have a sandwich when I’m ready.’
‘Will you?’ Lucinda’s disapproval was unmistakable and, in spite of her determination, Holly was disturbed. ‘And just when is later, may I ask? Seems like you’ve been avoiding that man ever since you got back from town.’
Holly expelled her breath a little nervously. ‘It’s not your concern, Luci,’ she retorted, hoping the housekeeper would go away, but Lucinda was not appeased.
‘You ever think he might wonder if I’m giving you his messages?’ she exclaimed fiercely. ‘He’s been asking to see you ever since I took in his breakfast this morning. You did do as he asked you, didn’t you? You did tell your father about Mr Kane’s accident?’
‘Of course.’ At last Holly was forced to meet the housekeeper’s accusing eyes. ‘I contacted Daddy, just as I said. Now, do you mind if I get on with my work?’
‘Your work!’ For once Lucinda was scathing of her talent. ‘Don’t you care that that man’s lying there, worrying himself sick over all the time he’s wasting? And you could ease his mind. But you won’t.’