Still Charlotte did not move. She seemed mesmerized by the growing pool of blood. In the end Mercy had to send a small boy after the doctor. All the time she had been pressing hard below the cut with her thumbs, and talking encouragingly to the semi-conscious Lilian. Slowly the terrible gushing began to ease, as with great relief Mercy saw Doctor von Herwath come striding towards them.
‘What has happened?’ he asked, then continued without waiting for a reply, ‘Ah, a cut, and a very nasty one.’
Mercy half expected him to make some remark about this being the inevitable result of fooling about on skates, but he did not.
‘There, let me see…’ he said. He regarded Mercy’s makeshift bandage. ‘Ah yes, this is good. I will simply bind this a little tighter for you now, then I think we had best take you to the hospital to have it seen to properly. You, sir! I presume you were driven here? Go and fetch your car! Quickly, someone! Give me a scarf or something absorbent to use as a bandage…’
He did not need to ask. While Charles dashed off, eager to help, Mercy had already been tearing strips from her cambric petticoat. Doctor von Herwath took them without comment, just as he accepted her help unquestioningly. While he worked he talked calmly to Lilian.
‘You have been very brave. It must have been an alarming experience for you. Happily it looks far worse than it really is. I must say, you chose to have your accident at exactly the right moment, when there was someone nearby who knew what to do.’
Mercy thought he was referring to himself. She was surprised to find him looking in her direction.
Charles came hurrying towards them, the chauffeur, his arms full of rugs, following behind.
‘The car’s here,’ he puffed. ‘We’ve got it as close to the end of the pier as possible.’
His arrival seemed to galvanize Charlotte into action.
‘Then let’s get this poor girl to hospital at once,’ she declared, taking over as though she had been in charge from the start. ‘Wrap those rugs about her. Charles, you and Adams shall carry her to the car. The doctor and I will follow on behind. Don’t worry, Lilian, my dear, I’m coming to the hospital with you.’
Lilian, however, seemed distressed by this arrangement. Doctor von Herwath noticed her reaction.
‘Miss Dawson-Pring,’ he said. ‘Is that lady over there not one of your party?’ Everyone looked towards the edge of the rink, where Zena sat, pale, trembling and forgotten.
‘She looks very shaken,’ the doctor continued. ‘It is my advice that you get her home quickly. This lady here can come to the hospital in your stead.’
‘Nonsense—’ began Charlotte.
Doctor von Herwath did not let her finish. ‘There is no time to argue,’ he said. Turning briefly to Mercy he said, ‘Come!’ and set off after the injured Lilian at a great pace.
In spite of the seriousness of the situation Mercy had to bite back a smile as she trotted behind him. She had never seen Charlotte so nonplussed before. The doctor’s manner certainly brooked no contradiction.
When they reached the hospital the sister on duty would have shepherded Mercy into a waiting-room, if the unfamiliar surroundings on top of the shock she had already suffered had not unnerved Lilian.
‘Don’t leave me!’ she begged weakly, clutching at Mercy.
‘Let the lady stay!’ said Doctor von Herwath.
The sister obviously objected to such unorthodox procedure, but because she dared not say anything she expressed her indignation by bustling about in a flurry of carbolic and starched cotton.
‘I can’t go on calling you “this lady”. What is your name?’ demanded the doctor. It was the first remark he had made directly to Mercy since they had left the pier.
‘It is Mercy Lisburne. Mrs Lisburne,’ she stated.
‘Mercy. How appropriate,’ he said, ignoring her careful emphasis; and he almost smiled.
Before she could reply the duty doctor arrived. That both men knew each other well was immediately apparent.
‘A very neat piece of work,’ remarked the duty doctor, as Lilian’s emergency bandage was removed. ‘You are a very fortunate young lady, having such a first-rate fellow on hand at your accident.’
‘Little of the credit is mine,’ said Doctor von Herwath. ‘Mrs Lisburne had the matter well under control by the time I got there.’
‘You did?’ The duty doctor glanced up briefly at Mercy and smiled. ‘In that case, should you ever need to go out to work, we’d be glad to have you.’ He was only half joking.
Mercy thought how ironic it was that now she had no need of employment she was being offered a job. She could remember very clearly a time when she was desperate enough to have considered anything. Nursing would have seemed a marvellous opportunity.
Lilian’s wound had scarcely been dressed when a nurse announced, ‘Mr Manning is here, sir.’
This was the first time Mercy had ever seen Lilian’s husband, and she found it hard to imagine the pale studious-looking man who entered married to the effervescent Lilian. Yet clearly he was fond of her, the look of anxiety on his face as he saw his wife lying there was proof enough. More surprisingly, Lilian evidently had far more regard for him than she ever betrayed when she was in the company of Charlotte’s set. At the sight of him she exclaimed, ‘Henry, oh Henry, I needed you so!’ then promptly flung her good arm round his neck and burst into tears.
Mercy watched the scene with an unexpected throb of pain. Once she and Peter had been as loving, a very long time ago.
‘I think we can safely leave Mr Manning to look after Mrs Manning for a few minutes while she recuperates,’ said the duty doctor, tactfully ushering everyone else out of the room. ‘Have you a car waiting, Mrs Lisburne? Or would you like me to call a taxi for you?’
‘We sent the car away,’ said Mercy, ‘and to be honest I think I would like to walk for a while.’
Now that the excitement and drama was over she was beginning to feel rather shaky. What she needed was some fresh air.
‘A good idea. I will join you,’ said Gunther von Herwath. ‘Where did you learn to cope so well in an emergency?’ he demanded suddenly, it is not something you learned in the company of Miss Dawson-Pring and her friends.’ His command of English was almost faultless. Only his clipped accent betrayed the fact that it was not his first language.
‘It was simply common sense. As for coping – I was extremely thankful to see you come hurrying up. I doubt if I could have bandaged Lilian’s hand firmly enough to have stopped the bleeding properly.’
‘You would have managed.’ Doctor von Herwath spoke with complete assurance. ‘You say you used only your common sense, yet you did exactly the right things. Most importantly, you did not panic at the sight of blood.’
‘I have three brothers and a sister, all of whom had their fair share of accidents and disasters when they were small. I suppose I’ve grown used to binding up cuts and gashes.’
‘Your nurse must have been a woman of sense and enlightenment to have left you to deal with the injuries of your brothers and sisters. Though I suppose she might equally have been lazy, and not shown much concern for her charges.’
‘I’m afraid you are wrong on both counts,’ laughed Mercy. ‘We didn’t have a nurse. We were far too poor.’
‘You do surprise me. I took you for a lady of wealth. You dress so elegantly and you seem much at home in the company of people like Miss Dawson-Pring.’
‘I am fortunate in having a very generous husband.’ Mercy paused for a brief moment, conscious that she did not often think of Peter in such a complimentary way these days. ‘When he married me I was working in a laundry,’ she continued.
‘I think you are not being serious with me.’
‘I promise you, I am speaking the truth,’ smiled Mercy.
‘How remarkable!’ He paused, as though considering what she had said. When he spoke it was explosively. ‘Then why do you waste your time so?’ he demanded.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mercy wa
s quite startled by the violence of his expression.
‘Why do you waste your time with frivolous people like Miss Dawson-Pring and Mrs Manning? It can have been no easy matter, rising from your humble background. It must have taken determination and intelligence – yes, and courage too. I have seen how calm you can remain in a crisis. Yet, with these excellent qualities you insist upon behaving in a silly, frivolous manner.’
‘I object to being called silly or frivolous, sir!’ Mercy retorted indignantly.
‘I expect you do,’ he said. ‘You can’t deny it, can you? The playing at being a butterfly or a gypsy beggar, and all the other mindless amusements of the well-to-do lady! Those are no occupations for a woman like you! You are wasting your abilities, and that is wrong!’
‘Really, sir, I’ve never heard such impertinence!’ Mercy’s anger was all the sharper because, in her heart, she agreed with him.
‘I speak the truth!’ He uttered the words in such a matter-of-fact manner that she found herself unable to argue.
Instead she said coldly, ‘There is a taxi over there. Would you be kind enough to hail it for me? I have walked far enough.’
He did as he was requested without comment. Silently she got into the car, and reached out to close the door, only to find him holding it firmly.
‘It is time you stopped frittering away your life,’ he said. ‘I shall expect you at Ivy wood tomorrow to see the work we do. Two-thirty would be convenient.’
Mercy opened her mouth to protest, but she was too late. He had slammed the door shut and ordered the driver to move off. She sat bolt upright in her seat, too tense to relax against the cushions. Her encounter with Gunther von Herwath had left her feeling as if she had been grappling with a whirlwind. Part of her was furious at his dictatorial manner, while the rest of her agreed with everything he had said. He had put her dissatisfaction clearly and succinctly into words. Her life was empty and useless. And she knew it. Her early years had been spent struggling to survive. She was used to fighting. Now, there was no fight, no struggle, no purpose. Doctor von Herwath had offered her a solution, though offered was something of a misnomer. It had been more of a command.
She told herself that she would certainly not go to Ivywood the next day, that wild horses could not drag her anywhere near that awful man.
What else will you do, if you don’t go? asked a persistent inner voice. Visit your hairdresser? Spend an hour or two playing bridge? Would that really be more interesting than going to Ivywood?
She postponed her hairdressing appointment, cancelled her bridge afternoon, and ordered the car for two-thirty the next day. Being late would be her gesture of independence. She had no intention of letting this German doctor think she automatically danced to his tune.
Chapter Thirteen
The entrance to the Ivywood Clinic was immediately off the road. It had once been a private residence and like so many houses in Torquay it was built on the side of a steep hill. From the outside it seemed a modest enough place, well maintained but very plain. The solid oak door bore a shining brass plate engraved with the words THE IVYWOOD CHEST CLINIC, ADMINISTERED BY THE IVYWOOD TRUST, REG. CHARITY. Underneath it said MEDICAL DIRECTOR – DR GUNTHER von HERWATH. His name was followed by a bewildering array of letters. The qualifications of Doctor von Herwath were certainly impressive. Mercy pushed open the door and entered.
The interior of Ivywood was suitably hushed, and a faint odour of carbolic hung on the air. Nevertheless, it was bright and cheerful. The cream walls looked freshly painted, and there was a well cared for air about the place. A middle-aged woman in a spotless white overall was watering a flourishing selection of pot plants. As Mercy entered she turned and put down her watering jug.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked with a pleasant smile.
‘My name is Mrs Lisburne. I think Doctor von Herwath is expecting me.’
‘Ah, yes, Mrs Lisburne. The doctor said you’d be coming. He is with a patient at the moment, so he asked me if I would show you into the sitting room. I am Miss Beech, the receptionist, secretary, clerk, oh, and gardener too, when the need arises.’ She laughed, indicating the row of flowerpots. ‘Doctor von Herwath is a great believer in having plants in the clinic. His theory is that we must pay attention to the needs of our patients’ spirits as well as their bodies, otherwise they have no chance. He has some very interesting ideas, does the doctor. We are so lucky to have him, really we are.’
All the time she had been talking Miss Beech had been guiding Mercy across the entrance hall and down a short flight of stairs. Now she opened a door and ushered her into a large room, bright with spring sunshine. From the huge window it was possible to see the whole of Torbay.
‘Will you sit down?’ Miss Beech indicated one of the numerous comfortable armchairs in the room. ‘As you see, no one is in here now. The patients are resting. Fresh air, nourishing food, and lots of rest! That’s what Doctor von Herwath always insists upon. He’s quite a martinet about it.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ said Mercy.
Miss Beech smiled at her tone.
‘He does have his funny ways, doesn’t he? You’ll get used to them when you’ve been here a little while.’
‘I’m only here on a visit,’ protested Mercy.
Miss Beech smiled again. She seemed to smile rather a lot.
‘I said exactly the same thing myself,’ she said. ‘Yet here I am, working at Ivywood for a fourth year. Once Doctor von Herwath meets someone whom he thinks will fit into our little team he can be most persuasive. I had better warn you, he has decided you would be good for Ivywood and Ivywood would be good for you.’
‘Doctor von Herwath seems to be taking a lot on himself!’
‘Oh, he said it in the nicest way. He chooses his helpers with such care. It’s an honour to be asked, truly it is.’
Mercy could not agree, but she felt that any objection would be a waste of breath – Miss Beech had about her the beaming certainty of a dedicated disciple.
Gunther von Herwath entered the room at that moment. He moved briskly, his white coat flapping, the papers in his hands fluttering with the draught he created.
‘It is quarter to three,’ he observed. ‘I said to come at half past two. Of course, I knew you would be late.’
‘I nearly didn’t come at all,’ retorted Mercy.
‘Nonsense, you always intended to come!’
‘I certainly did not!’
Instead of replying the doctor turned to Miss Beech.
‘The post has just arrived,’ he stated. ‘I am expecting the medical notes for Mr Blake.’
‘Of course, Doctor von Herwath! I’ll go immediately and look!’ Miss Beech hurried away.
‘Does everyone leap to your orders?’ asked Mercy in exasperation.
He regarded her steadily, the intense gaze of his hazel eyes making her uncomfortable.
‘We have twenty patients here,’ he said. ‘Most with families who depend upon them. Goodness knows, we cannot promise to cure them! But at least we can help them, ease their suffering; and sometimes, if we are lucky, we can extend their lives. With so much depending on them the staff at Ivywood have far too much sense of responsibility to waste valuable time in arguing. You have seen our sitting room where our patients congregate. Now I will take you to the dispensary.’ He set off at a great rate.
‘Aren’t you wasting valuable time showing me round?’ asked Mercy, trotting to keep up with him.
‘If you are to help here you must know where everything is and how it is used. Have you noticed the covered terrace?’ he continued, ignoring her protests. ‘It runs the whole length of the front of the house. The patients spend much time there, filling their lungs with good fresh air. And here is the dispensary. We pride ourselves that no other clinic in the town has one so adequately stocked or up to date. Now we will go to the kitchens and see the domestic arrangements.’
He took Mercy through the house at a terrific rate, yet somehow managing to explain
the various functions and services so well that by the time they had finished and returned to the sitting room she could not help being impressed. By now there was a dozen or so people in the room. One occupant proved to be a small, spare man, whose face bore the hectic flush of his complaint. He looked up and grinned as they entered.
‘What’ve you been roped in for, missus?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘You’ll ’ave to watch yourself with the doctor, you know. Before you know it you’ll be working ’ere, ’e’ll be treating you like a dog, and you’ll get no thanks for it. No, nor any wages, either.’
‘You don’t want to take any notice of this fellow,’ said Doctor von Herwath without rancour. ‘He thinks because he is our oldest inhabitant he can say what he likes.’
‘’Course I do! ’E’s been trying to polish me off for four years and not succeeded yet! That entitles me to speak my mind.’ The small man grinned and held out his hand. ‘Matt Thoms is the name, and pleased to meet any friend of the doctor’s. You mind my warnings now.’
Mercy took his hand in hers. It was hot and light, and so frail she might have been clasping dry twigs.
‘Thank you for putting me on my guard, Mr Thoms,’ she smiled.
‘I reckon you’ve got his measure. But if you ’ave any trouble, you just tell me. I’ll soon sort ’im out. I ain’t afraid of ’im just because ’e wears a white coat.’ The words were belligerent, but said with a wide smile.
‘If you keep on like this, Matt, we will have no one working for us,’ the doctor pointed out calmly. ‘You should be encouraging Mrs Lisburne, not trying to frighten her away.’
‘You’ve got a point there. Goodness knows it’s a treat just to look at ’er! I only want ’er to know what she’s letting ’erself in for.’ Matt Thoms winked up at Mercy and said in a stage whisper, ‘’E’s all right really, is the old doc, but someone’s got to keep ’im in ’is place, else ’e’ll start thinking ’e runs the show.’
To Dream Again Page 26