“Damn! Damn! Damn!” she shouted “I can’t move the bloody thing!” stepping from the car, she looked around helplessly, thumping the side of the vehicle in frustration. Then she looked at Steven again as her stomach turned over. Walking backwards and forwards shaking with furious anger, she gradually bought her temper within limits, then slowly pulling great gulps of air into her lungs, calmly returned to the back of the vehicle.
Working methodically, she took the spare wheel from its cover and removing the car from the valve released the air from the tyre until it was flat, then holding it firmly, jumped into the trench, gasping at the coldness of the water hitting her body as it swirled around her legs. Knowing the bottom of the ditch had been gravelled the previous year, she dropped the wheel into the water, rolling it as near to the trapped leg as it would go, and wedged it upright under the tree.
It took valuable time squeezing the flat tread of the tyre between the trench floor and the angle of the fallen oak. But, finally grunting with satisfaction she returned to the car to get the foot pump. Her clear brain was telling her she only had to lift the obstacle a fraction to get Steven free. So, hooking the air hose up to the valve, she rested the pump on the tree. Pulling herself up with it, only to find that standing upright and working the pump at the same time was extremely difficult. But, slowly the tyre began to swell. Stopping pumping, she looked at her handiwork, then jumping back into the water, worked it by hand and watched the rubber bite into the rough bark of the tree. She knew that speed would be essential when the oak moved, frightening her that once the tyre was fully inflated, the dead weight may cause it to roll.
Her eyes were on Steven when the tree creaked loudly and shifted slightly. The pump was now taking a lot of her strength to work, causing her shoulder muscles to ache from the strain. Then, quite suddenly, the tree lifted causing the wheel to move, but she was on an all station alert. Plunging her hands into the freezing water, she grabbed Steven’s leg, snatching it clear as the stricken oak, propelled by the inflated tyre, popped like a cork from a giant champagne bottle, shooting it further up the dyke. Quickly she released his head from the safety of the anorak before the tree rolled to a dead stop, creating a wave of water which showered down on them. Phyllipa didn’t even notice, her body was way past the “I’m freezing cold!” time. She was numb, soaked to the skin with ice loaded water. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she tried pulling her ex boss from the water, but he was heavy. Puffing, blowing and cursing she slowly edged him to the bank, Exhausted by her efforts joined him for a few minutes on the grass while she regained her breath. Looking at her wristwatch, then at the dark sky still brimming with angry snow clouds, she inspected her charge. He was pale and his body was shivering. Massaging his face with her hands, his eyelids fluttered as he muttered something incomprehensible. Wearily getting to her feet, she lay the anorak on the wet grass, rolled Steven’s body onto it, then grasping the sleeves hauled him slowly to the passenger door of the Aston Martin. Owing to the height of the door still, getting him into the car was going to be difficult. Phyllipa gnawed at her bottom lip as she desperately sought the answer.
Walking back to the ditch she reluctantly jumped into the water once more and recovered the spare wheel. Rolling it back to her car, she lay it down, then mustering the last of her strength, dragged Steven on to it, then pushed him up into the seat, tied the seat belt around him.
Making sure he was comfortable, she threw the spare wheel back into the boot, then dragging her tired body, sat behind the steering wheel, started the engine and slowly drove back to the road. But, progress was difficult owing to the conditions and she needed what little strength remained to keep the car moving over the snow covered grass but gradually reaching the field gate, the vehicle passed through on to the road. Picking up speed, Phyllipa continually shrugging off the cold that was now creeping over her entire body, headed for the motorway.
It was the quickest route to the Cottage Hospital. She could have taken Steven back to Rosewood, but a telephone call for an ambulance might have lost valuable time. Turning the car heater to full blast, she nudged the car through a roundabout, flashed down onto the arterial, joining the traffic. It was busy but not overcrowded as she put her foot down, increasing her speed. Her passenger was muttering to himself with his head on his chest. With her left hand, Phyllipa checked the tension on the seat belt, sighing with relief that all was well.
Moving the car into the overtaking lane to get past a thirty ton truck who was hogging the middle one, she became aware of flashing lights behind her. Flipping the rear mirror with her hand to cut the dazzle, her foot went further into the throttle. The speedometer was touching ninety five when the car rejoined the centre lane but now the flashing lights were on her right plus a metallic voice ordering her to pull over on the hard shoulder.
“Damn it!” she cursed, pulling the car to a halt as she watched the police car creeping up behind. “This is not the time to get nicked for speeding Phyllipa.” Lowering the window she greeted the patrolman. “I’m in a hurry!” she protested “You certainly are!” He agreed opening his notebook as he peered inquisitively into the car. “Ms Gore isn’t it? I thought I recognised the car.” The sleet was belting his face, building puddles on his collar.
Phyllipa breathed a sigh of relief. He was the local copper, known to her family. “My companion is injured! It is vital that I get him to hospital as quickly as possible.” She told him. Putting his notebook back into his pocket, the patrolman walked round the car to the passenger side as Phyllipa opened the door for him. “He’s cold.” He said looking at her injured friend. Going to his own vehicle, he returned with a blanket which he pushed around Steven’s shoulders. “That should keep him a little warmer, what happened?”
“I’m not quite sure.” She replied, pulling the blanket tighter around her passenger. “But I think an oak tree fell on him! His leg has gone and he is rambling a bit, but he is still alive, thank god!”
The police officer looked closely at her. “You are soaking wet.” He said returning to his car again. Phyllipa bit her lip in frustration, she wanted to get on. Finally, coming back he handed her a blue police anorak. “ put this on.” Phyllipa eased her painful shoulders into it, glad of the warmness. The patrolman pointed to his car. “Stick on my tail, I’ll get you to the hospital and my control will alert the medical people at the hospital. Stay close!”
Phyllipa followed him, marvelling at the way the two cars could get through traffic as quickly as they did. Any congestion faded away through sheer authority of the flashing blue lights, and it only appeared to be a relatively short time before they were pulling up at the hospital entrance and Steven was being wheeled away on a stretcher.
Gratefully sinking into a chair in the hospital lounge, Phyllipa rested her face in her hands. Somewhere in her life, she concluded, she had probably been as tired but she couldn’t remember when.
“You look cold!” A voice said, as a soft blanket was hung around her shoulders and a warm towel was placed in her hands. Phyllipa looked up into the face of a smiling nurse. “Here drink this!” A large beaker of hot coffee was thrust into her hands. “I think it’s a large brandy which I need.” The nurse rummaged in a drawer of her desk. “Purely medicinal!” She explained, producing a bottle and topping up the coffee with cognac.
Phyllipa felt the golden liquid almost reach her feet as she gratefully drank it. thanks! I needed that.” She murmured , closing her eyes.
The nurse was vigilant, and was familiar with the tell-tale signs of someone pushed past their physical capacity. Moving quickly, her ready hands grabbed Phyllipa as she slipped from the chair to the floor.
Chapter 20
A pale moon cut through the window of Phyllipa’s bedroom. She wriggled her body under the sheets, opening her eyes, and closed them again as the pain from the cuts and bruises signalling their dislike of any sort of movement.
“Urgh!” She murmured “Am I alive?”
“Very much
so!” A voice answered.
“Opening her eyes again, she saw the anxious face of her father peering down at her. How do you feel?” she sat up wincing again from her aching limbs. “First how is Steven?”
“He had a comfortable night!”
“Good!” she ran her hands through her hair. “I’ve a few bruises and I ache in places that only god has seen.” She looked at her hands covered in red weals and cuts. “There are sore.” She complained, inspecting her fingernails. “Just look at them! Apart from all that, I’m one hundred percent.”
“You had me worried.” Her father admitted.
“How did I get home?”
“One of the hospital ambulances brought you.”
She groaned “Oh! That means my car is still at casualty!”
“It’s in the garage, I had it collected.”
Once more she closed her eyes, stretching the sore muscles as they wrenched at her body. Pulling her parents face down towards her, she kissed his cheek. “Please get lost father! I’m getting up!”
“The doctor and I thought you should rest.”
Frowning, she sat up again. “There is nothing wrong with me. A couple of hours in the Jacuzzi will sort me out. And, I do have to go places. I have things to do and people to see.” Glancing at her bedside clock, she showed surprise. “Six thirty? A.m.?”
“P.M.” her father replied. “You have been fast asleep for almost twenty four hours.”
“Urgh!” pulling the sheets over her head, Phyllipa snuggled her body down into the bed again. “Good night father! Please don’t bang the door!”
The day the nurse popped her head around the door. “You have a visitor. Doctor! Ms. Gore.”
Any signs of tiredness had completely gone from Phyllipa as she entered the office of the hospital which had taken Steven in. her eyes was packed with dancing health and she was dressed as if she had just walked off some high fashion catwalk.
Rising at the crack of dawn, after a marathon sleep, she had breakfasted with her father.
“Do you feel as good as you look?” he had asked her.
“My hands are a little raw and there a few bruises niggling somewhere, but apart from that I feel absolutely wonderful.”
“We would not like to think you are going to make a habit of swimming through ditches in sub zero temperatures.” His tone was chiding*.
She looked at her father carefully. When he referred to himself in the plural she knew he was being extremely serious. “I am hoping the occasion will not present itself again. But, I had to act fast or Steven would have drowned!”
Her father looked at her with pride. “Yes, so I believe.” He poured himself some more coffee. “Are you going to visit him?”
She nodded. “I thought I would drop by to see if he wants anything.”
“Well, perhaps you would give him my regards.” She had kissed him, got into her car and driven to the hospital. Her face tingled with anxiety as Steven’s doctor introduced himself. “It’s nice to meet you Ms Gore.” Grasping her hand in greeting, , he caused Phyllipa to wince at the pain from her injured palm.
“How is Steven this morning?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.
The doctor flicked a switch causing an arrow of light to crawl behind a line of X-Ray films clipped to a screen. “He slept well and as you can see we have some lovely snaps of him.” He explained, almost gleefully. Grabbing a pencil from the desk, he speared it at some opaque areas on the picture. “Let’s take him from the top, shall we? He must have got a couple of bangs on the head from something, but, happily although there was a slight concussion, it is nothing serious.” He looked at his visitor’s face again and envied his patient. “We’ve CAT scanned him and
*- Chiding (meaning) To scolder or rebute
everything looks quite normal. He has some nasty bruising but they will sort themselves out, and he was very cold.” He put his hands together as if in prayer “Just a touch of hypothermia! Not serious now, but we reckon another thirty minutes of exposure and it could have proved fatal.” He grinned as he warmed to his story. “Anyway we banged some jump leads into him and got his body equalised. That’s the good news!”
Phyllipa’s heart sank and it showed in her face as she listened.
“It’s not bad, bad news, as such. It’s just a question of time. Injured people come in here and expect instant recovery, in fact some of them demand it. We would love to oblige them, but, mother nature has her own yardstick and who are we to argue with her.” He tapped the X-Ray again, moving the point of his pencil up and down the skeletal lines “This is Steven’s left leg.” He dug the pencil in again. “His tib and fib got squashed a bit!”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry! This bone is the Tibia. See how it shines. Wonderful bone! Get’s bashed about a lot! Hockey sticks and cricket balls, all that sort of stuff.”
Phyllipa’s eyebrows went up again. “Yes, well, shinbone to you.” He carefully explained. “Lies on top of the Fibula…” he pointed the pencil again. “Here! This thinner bone has a hairline fracture, but not to worry, that will mend. It is the Tibia which is going to take time. It was crushed, shattered in three places but for now we have plated it.” He tossed the pencil back on his desk. “There was also some surface damage to the leg itself, but, fortunately his riding boot afforded him some protection.”
“Are you saying his injuries could have been worse?”
“Very much so.,to a certain extent the leather spread the force of the blow. If he had been wearing trainers or something like that, he would have lost his leg!”
Phyllipa shivered.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“No thank you.”
The doctor politely showed her to the door. “I won’t keep you from your friend. We will be monitoring him for two or three days, then we will look at his leg again.” He shrugged his shoulders. “After that, it will just be rest, rest and more rest!” he shook his head. “Don’t think he is going to be crawling around on crutches in a week or two, because that is not going to happen! If he does as he is told, his leg will be as good as new again O.K? But if he doesn’t, he will limp for the rest of his life!”
Phyllipa nodded. “As you say doctor, he will just have to do as he is told won’t he? Thank you for the anatomical trip.”
He smiled at her “You are very welcome, Ms Gore, anything you wish to know anytime, I am here.”
The nurse ushered her into a lift. “We’ve put him in room one four nine.” She explained. “It’s high up with wonderful views of the countryside.” The elevator braked and suddenly Phyllipa was looking at her ex boss propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows. The room seemed to be full of flowers. He looked up as she entered.
“You have a visitor Steven!” the nurse announced as she checked his damaged leg which was enveloped in plaster and hoisted in the air by chromium pulleys hanging from a tubular gantry. “Press the bell if you should need me.” Smiling at them both, she eased herself from the room.
Phyllipa bent over the bed, kissing Steven on his cheek, and sat down on the chair provided. “My father sends his regards.”
“And you?”
“I’m here to see if there is anything I can do for you?”
“Is that all?”
She nodded. “That is all Steven.”
He sighed. “thank you for the flowers!”
The tone of each of them was formal, like business colleagues meeting at a yearly sales convention.
“It was the least I could do.” Her voice was cold.
His face twisted in a wry smile. “I have phoned you.”
“Really!” she fibbed “I didn’t know.”
“I thought it was time we talked to one another.”
“What about?”
Running a hand through his black hair, he shifted his body to a more comfortable position, causing the hardware supporting his injured leg to murmur in protest. “Come on Phyllipa, you know what about.”
�
��Perhaps you would like to tell me what the hell you were doing out riding on a morning that wasn’t really suitable?” she nodded at him. “I know my father would like to know as well.”
“I felt a little guilty about not exercising Sultan.” He explained. “I knew that no-one else could handle him, so I came over and tacked him up. We were trotting by the ditch when I felt something hit me and pulled me from the saddle.” He looked at her almost accusingly. “At that time the weather wasn’t very bad. It was a bit blowy, but the storm came in pretty fast and suddenly I was in the ditch wet through with a tree across my leg.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And that’s it!” his eyes looked at, enquiringly. “Is Sultan O.K?”
She nodded. “Yes! He’s got a few cuts and one or two bruises, but we have had the vet to him and he’s alright.” She smiled. “You’ve got to thank him for being rescued.”
“I thought I had you to thank.” He voice creaked with emotion. “You saved my life!”
“It was just a stroke of luck that I was standing looking out of the library window when he dashed past. If he had taken the short way back to the stables as he normally does, it is doubtful that you and I would be having this conversation.”
For a few seconds he closed his eyes, as if savouring his miraculous escape, he opened them again. “Please let me explain my behaviour.”
Phyllipa looked at her wristwatch. “I can give you three minutes!” he flung his arms out in supplication. “I was wrong about you.” He admitted. “I was wrong about your intentions towards the company, and I was wrong about everything else. June told me about the bet with your father…”
“She had no right to tell you!” Phyllipa interrupted, glaring at him.
“Well, she did! And she also told me about your generosity and it all sounded pretty wonderful to me.” He tried to hold her gaze again, but she just stared back at him. “Apart from my love for you…”
His Lordships Daughter Page 15