by Sue Peters
'I don't know about moving the driver.' Keir still looked desperately pale, a dark streak showing across his forehead where he had brushed his hair from his eyes. His once neat head was now as wildly dishevelled as Nan's had been when they first met, but she had no desire to remind him of it. 'The seat's wrenched almost off it's moorings,' he examined the bucket seat intently. 'If we could manage to lift it out between us, we could carry him on that without disturbing him until we get to the hospital.'
'We'll manage somehow.' The driver took off his jacket and tossed it into his cab. 'We'll carry him as he is, seat and all.' With a supreme effort they got hold of the seat between them and eased it out of the wreck, and slid it across the floor of the ambulance so that it rested more or less upright.
'I'll stay in the back and hold it steady.' Keir crouched beside it, and Nan winced at the sight of the young boy it contained. He only looked about twenty or so. Perhaps the sports car had been a present for his coming of age?
'Will he live?' she asked tautly, several hours later.
'He's got a fighting chance, now. So has the girl.' Her uncle collapsed limply into a chair in his office at the hospital, where Nan had waited, unable to go home until she-knew. 'Another half hour and it would have been too late.'
'It's a good job you thought of that girl and her horses,' Keir admitted, accepting a cup of tea from her with eager hands.
'Even carthorses still have their uses.' It was the wrong time to remind him, Nan knew, his face was as white and exhausted as Oliver Gray's from their lengthy, concentrated battle.
'Hendrick and Watson came over from Hopminster to help out,' her uncle named two fellow consultants from the town hospital. 'It isn't often we have anything quite so wholesale,' he told Keir. 'We use the theatres here in rotation, to make sure they're always ready. They've all been in use today,' he told Nan, 'the emergency one as well.'
'We could have sent the two fracture cases to the town hospital,' Keir began. 'They'd probably have better facilities there.' Despite his tiredness his voice was critical.
'It was better for help to travel to them,' Oliver Gray disagreed. 'The vet and his wife were both badly shocked. And as for the other two, the car driver and his passenger ...' He lapsed into silence, sipping his tea.
'They would have died before they reached Hopminster,' Nan finished his sentence for him grimly, and turned to look directly at Keir. 'You've already seen two reasons for keeping the Cottage Hospital open,' she told him bluntly.
CHAPTER THREE
'I'll give the vet at Hopminster a ring, and warn him what's happened.' Oliver Gray broke into the awkward pause that followed Nan's remark, and she looked up quickly.
'I promised Helen we'd look after Timmy.' She consulted her watch. 'He's due out of school in another half hour.'
'Best thing you could do,' her uncle nodded approvingly. 'Go along and collect him while I warn the other vet. Oh, I'd better tell the telephone exchange as well,' he remembered, 'so they can trap Marriott's calls until we've got something worked out. It's a good job we're still on the old-fashioned system in some ways,' he told Keir cheerfully, 'machines can't do things for you in an emergency, and human beings can. Mrs Bell at the Post Office will cope for us.' He reached for the phone and Keir stood up.
'I'll come with you to collect the boy,' he offered. 'Your uncle's staying on here for a while, so I shan't be needed.'
'I'll need the Land-Rover,' Nan conceded. She did not need Keir, but she could not very well tell him that. 'We'll have to collect Timmy's clothes and things from home. How long! do you think his parents will be in hospital?'
'Reckon on a couple of weeks or so,' Keir suggested. 'We can't discharge either of them until they're fit to cope for themselves, let alone the child.' He spoke easily, making no comment on Nan's outburst about the hospital, using the child's need as a no-man's-land where it was safe for them both to tread. Nan watched him as he swung himself up into the passenger seat, of the Land-Rover. His face had lost its whiteness, and his eyes the haunted look that they had held at the scene of the accident. He seemed as self-confident as ever.
'You go in, I'll wait here,' he told her as they pulled up at the school gates.
'I want a word with his teacher first.' Nan walked across the playground, wondering worriedly how to break the news to a six-year-old that his parents had both been injured in a road accident.
'Will they have plaster on, like I did?' Timmy's small, freckled face was grave.
'That's right. Only they'll have theirs on their legs, not on their arms,' Nan thanked heaven for a child's calm acceptance of facts. She had forgotten Timmy had broken a wrist the year before. 'So they won't be able to walk about for a bit, that's why Uncle Oliver's making them stay in bed.'
'Did you draw on it?' Timmy handed over his satchel to Nan and clambered up into the Land-Rover beside Keir.
'Draw on what?' Keir shot Nan a look that appealed for help.
'The plaster, of course.' The boy eyed him reproachfully, and light dawned on Nan.
'Timmy had a plaster on his wrist last year,' she threw the information at Keir casually, praying he would understand. 'I told him you put a plaster on his mummy and daddy this afternoon.'
'Teacher drew a face on mine, an' all the class writ their names on it,' Timmy remembered importantly. 'Only their front names, there wasn't room for the others.'
'I was going to draw on them, but the plaster wasn't dry enough.' Keir's lips twitched, and he drew the boy on to his knee, and Nan felt the tension ooze out of her, leaving her limp. She had not realised how much she had dreaded telling Timmy. And she had not expected any help from Keir. He did not seem the type who would have any sort of rapport with children, and yet here he was talking to the little boy as easily as if he had known him all his short life.
Timmy must see something I can't, below the surface, she decided with a shrug. She had to admit that she herself found Keir's air of self-contained sophistication repelling.
'Can Sauce an' Fluffy come to stay, as well?' There was just the hint of a tremble in Timmy's voice as they drew up at the gate of the vet's cottage, and Nan jumped down.
'Yes, of course they can,' she agreed readily. 'You brought Sauce with you the last time you came, so he'll settle down happily enough.' And would help his small master to do the same, she thought thankfully. The short, hairy mongrel— 'he's a mixture of all sorts,' Helen had laughed, 'hence his name'—had already sensed their presence, and was setting up a vociferous welcome from the direction of the outhouses. 'Who's Fluffy?' Nan stopped, suddenly wary. 'I thought your pony was called Beauty?'
'He is,' Timmy replied calmly. 'Fluffy's a hamster. Someone brought him to Daddy because they didn't want him, and they said I could keep him if I liked.'
'A hamster!' Nan's eyes widened with dismay. 'You'll have to carry him yourself,' she told the boy firmly. 'I can't bear mice!'
'He isn't a mouse, he's a ...'
'I know, you said.' Nan shivered.
'Girls!' Keir laughed in a superior fashion, and put his hand on Timmy's shoulder, man-to-man style. 'They're terrified of furry things, aren't they? You and I'll go and get Fluffy, and leave Nan to collect your clothes. By the way,' he added casually, 'Steve Whitworth said she'd collect your pony later, and keep it in her stables to look after until your father is out of his plaster. She told me to tell you.' He followed the boy through the gate and along the crazy paving path that was narrowed to half its width by a wild tangle of Michaelmas daisies. 'Incidentally,' he paused and looked back at Nan, 'how are you going to get into the house to collect Timmy's things?'
'With the front door key,' she replied shortly. 'Helen let me have it from her handbag when I said we'd take Timmy.' She resented Keir's lofty attitude about the hamster. The gleam in his black eyes as they met her own told, her he was laughing at her, and her vexation rose when the key in her hand failed to turn as she inserted it into the old-fashioned lock.
'Give it to me.' Keir gave a hiss of
exasperation as he saw the size of the implement. 'This is more like a key to a dungeon than a house!' He broke off shortly, becoming aware of the boy close beside him.
'Not many people bother to lock their doors at night round here,' Nan retorted. 'Contrary to popular belief, gipsies don't run away with children,' she said bitingly, 'and there's usually a dog or two on the premises—like here.' The sounds of canine welcome hurried from the outhouse and raised a crescendo on the other side of the front door. 'The vet keeps his surgery double-locked with modern mechanism, the same as Uncle Oliver,' she interpreted Keir's raised eyebrows correctly. 'There's no more chance of his drug cupboard being raided than there is the one at Minster House.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' Keir said shortly, straining at the key with every sign of impatience.
'You don't do it right.' Timmy reached up and put both his hands round the key. 'You only have to push it half way in—see?' The big, round-handled key turned with smooth precision, and Nan chuckled.
'You can hold the hamster instead,' she told Keir. She felt cheerfully vindicated, and bent to stem the eager approaches of the wriggling black and white mongrel that hurled itself with happy impartiality at both herself and the boy.
. 'Mind your ankles, he nips,' she warned Keir maliciously.
'I'm surprised he can see to bite.' Keir looked down at the hairy bundle with a scornful stare, and Nan's patience snapped.
'He may not be able to boast a pedigree, but he's Timmy's own,' her voice held hostile warning.
'I didn't mean ...' Keir looked taken aback.
'Fluffy's out the back.' A small paw reached up and commandeered Keir's sleeve, interrupting him, and Nan made for the stairs. She did not care what Keir meant, so long as he did not upset the boy.
'Is there anything you specially want me to bring?' she called over the banisters.
'Only my 'jamas, the same as last time.' Timmy had his mind on more important things than clothes, and Nan smiled and made her way into his bedroom. She had seen Helen raid a big chest of drawers for his things when he came to stay with them before, and Nan did the same now.
'Tee-shirts, overalls—they'll do for playing in ...' She made a pile on the bed, added a small pair of shorts and a couple of woollies, and looked round, seeking inspiration. She did not want to make more than one journey if she could help it. His toilet articles were easy, they were grouped on the glass shelf over the wash-basin in a corner of the room. The vet and his wife had made an excellent job of modernising the cottage, she thought appreciatively, without in any way detracting from its oak-beamed charm.
'Mind your head,' she advised Keir, descending the stairs as he re-entered the hall.
'Too late,' he replied sourly. 'I've already knocked myself nearly unconscious on a beam in the kitchen.' A red weal across his forehead showed where it had made contact, and Nan winced.
'I didn't think to warn you …'
'I shan't want him.' Timmy forestalled her half apology by pointing to the battered-looking Teddy bear she carried tucked under her arm.
'I thought he might want you,' she countered tactfully. 'Oh well, I might as well take him now, I don't want to go all the way upstairs again.' Six-year-old self-confidence in broad daylight was one thing, she thought, but tucked in a strange bed at night, the familiar feel of a Teddy might make the difference between sleep and sobs. 'You can keep him on your lap, though,' she pointed to the cage containing a small golden ball of fur, with shuddering aversion.
'He won't bite, he's not big enough—look!' Timmy held out his hamster for her inspection.
'I'll take your word for it.' Nan backed away hastily, and trod on Keir's foot.
'Easy, I need both of them for walking.' He put out his hands to steady her, turning her to him while he looked down into her face with a grin. 'You know, for someone who doesn't turn a hair at a road accident, to be scared of a little thing like a hamster,' he began.
'I'm entitled to an aversion or two,' Nan shrugged out of his grasp quickly. His look—his touch—disturbed her, as did his nearness, she discovered suddenly, and confusion added asperity to her voice. Its tone implied that he might be the second aversion, and he turned away, his lips tightening, to address the boy.
'Why not sit in the back and have Sauce on the seat with you?' he suggested. 'You'll have more room that way. I'll hold Fluffy's cage while you get in.' He ignored Nan, and she had a momentary qualm, but she quickly stifled it. She had not laughed at Keir when he showed signs of stress. She admitted she did not know the cause, but the stress had been evident just the same, so why should he sneer at her now ?
'Up, Sauce!' She opened the driver's door and snapped her fingers at the mongrel, which took the familiar route over the top of the front seats and into the back one.
'Now have Fluffy's cage on the seat next to you,' Keir handed it over when the boy was settled. 'It'll ride steady there.'
Timmy took it from him, and to Nan's relief relinquished it happily enough to Rose on their arrival at Minster House, upon her promise that she would find his pet a warm corner in the scullery where he could come and visit it at any time he pleased. 'I don't mind him,' she assured Timmy, 'even if Miss Nan does,' and she carried the cage away with an unruffled air that Nan envied.
'I was going to take my sunflowers to the harvest festival.' The sight of a row of yellow moon faces outside the drawing-room window reminded Timmy, and his lips drooped despite the tempting tea which confronted him.
'You can still take them.' Mary Gray spooned red jelly into a bowl, and added a generous dab of cream on top. 'In fact, you can take mine as well, if you like,' she offered.
'Can I?' His face brightened, and he twisted round in his chair to inspect them more thoroughly. 'They're not as big as mine ...'
'There speaks a true gardener,' laughed Oliver Gray. 'You'll have to get some manure to feed them with when you go and see your pony. Steve Whitworth will fill a bag for you,' he gave the boy an interest and a promise that he could still see his pony, at one and the same time.
'Did you manage to settle the vet's practice?' Keir asked him interestedly.
'Oh yes, the vet from Hopminster has lent his assistant until Bob's on his feet again. He'll go and take the daily surgery and see to any calls, so the place won't be empty. It's a good job it isn't spring,' Oliver Gray said thankfully, 'the vets aren't over busy at this time of year. Mostly in the autumn it's domestic pets and the occasional dog-fight,' he grinned.
'Three vets, and only two doctors in the district,' Keir murmured.
'There are more animals than people 'hereabouts,' Nan countered sharply, stung by his comment. Nothing in Minster was right for the man, she thought angrily. If he preferred the organised life of a city practice, why had he bothered to come?
'Mrs Whitworth's on the phone, miss.' Rose pushed her tousled head through the door. 'She wants to speak to you about a game of tennis, she said.'
'I'd forgotten that.' Nan jumped up, grateful for the interruption. Whenever she and Keir were together they seemed to strike sparks off one another, she thought impatiently. It was like having an electric current between them. 'I thought you suggested tennis at the weekend,' she told the receiver.
'I thought it might be a good idea this evening, instead,' Steve's disembodied voice came back. 'That was a pretty horrible experience this morning.' Her voice was grave. 'I thought an hour on the courts might buck us all up. Even the new doctor looked a bit shaken.'
So Steve had noticed it, too.
'I think he's used to his patients being nicely tidied up before he sees them. Not in the raw, as it were.' For some reason Nan found herself defending him. From what? I suppose it's because he's Uncle Oliver's partner, she thought, and dismissed him from her mind. 'How about seven o'clock at the Club?' she suggested. 'That will give us an hour or so before it gets dusk. With you and David as opponents, that will be more than enough,' she finished with a chuckle.
'You'll be able to have a rest half way if you want on
e.'
Steve's voice sounded suddenly mischievous. 'Marcia the Manor said she'd be there as well.' She laughed aloud at Nan's groan. 'Sorry, but you know how naive David can be,' she excused her husband tolerantly. 'Marcia came down here for a ride with that seedy-looking young brother of hers, after I took the Shires back this morning, and as usual she was complaining of feeling bored.' Steve's voice sounded incredulous. Like most busy people, she could not imagine anyone being bored. 'David mentioned we were thinking of having a game with you and Keir, and he invited them along,' she said ruefully.
'I'll go and tell Keir we're playing tonight instead of at the weekend,' Nan volunteered. 'But whether he comes or not, I'll be there,' she promised. 'Steve wants to know what your pony likes for his supper,' she told Timmy casually, re-entering the drawing-room. 'I've left the phone off the hook for you, go and tell her,' she sent the delighted boy on his way, and added to Keir, 'Steve's brought the game of tennis forward to tonight, but you needn't feel obliged to come if you don't want to. There'll be another couple at the Club for a game if you'd rather not?' She hoped he would decide not to come.
'Who are the others?' Mary Gray asked interestedly.
'Marcia and Rodney Lisle. Steve calls her Marcia the Manor,' she smiled.
'Poor Marcia, the family has never settled down,' her aunt said sympathetically. 'Such a pity, the Manor's a lovely old house.'
'It's probably not big enough for the Lisles,' her husband surmised shrewdly. 'The family—er—entertain rather lavishly.' His expression betrayed his distaste.
'The Manor—isn't that the place you said was sheltered by that high wall?' Keir turned to Nan with interest.
'That's it,' she answered. 'You saw the house itself from the hill, the one that lies below the wood, a stone's' throw away from the church.'
'It looks a delightful old place,' Keir exclaimed. 'Not very big as manor houses go, as you say,' he deferred to his partner, 'but it looked roomy enough for most tastes.' His voice questioned that of the present owners.
'Marcia says the wall makes her feel shut in,' Nan said flatly.