‘Yes, yes, of course. Anyone should be able to recognise a duck. But it took you to recognise this one…Look, Peg, we’ve got another companion, a duck.’
He had forcibly to loosen Peg’s fingers from off the floorboards, and, turning her over, he held her shivering body close to his for a moment as he said, ‘It’ll be all right. Once it is light they’ll have the boats out searching and we’ll be picked up.’
When a few minutes later he felt the floor tilt sharply, he said hastily, ‘I think it’ll be better if we all lie flat again and take a firm grip on the boards.’
‘But the duck!’
‘It’s all right, Aunt Sophie, the duck will be all right. Look, it’s wanting to come near you. Lie flat, that’s it, like that. Now put your arms out. There, you see, it’s lying in between them.’
‘Martha!’ He pointed downward, and Martha laid her shivering body alongside that of Sophie’s. She had never felt so cold in her life before. Try as she might she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering, and it was as if Harry had heard their rattling for he said now, ‘If we lie close together we’ll keep warmer. Move close to Miss Sophie, Peg. That’s it. That’s it.’
When the moon disappeared again he began to talk. He talked about everything: about his boyhood, about his youth, about his hospital training, even about Doctor Pippin. The only thing he didn’t talk about was his marriage. At what stage in his talking his arms went around Martha, he didn’t know, but they were lying clasped tightly together when the dawn broke, and so stiff were they that their untwining took some embarrassing time.
It was as the light got stronger that the floor began to tilt at a sharper angle. It was as if the pressure of the daylight was forcing more debris beneath it.
‘It’s…it’s tilting. It’s tilting more and…’
He took hold of her arm as he muttered, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right…’
The last word had hardly left his lips when there was a roar as if dam gates had burst open. The next minute the whole floor was upended and they were all being tossed and swirled in a maelstrom of debris.
As Martha screamed she had a fleeting glimpse of Peg, her mouth wide open as if she were calling someone. She saw her enfolded in Aunt Sophie’s arms like a child; then her own head was forced below the mad swirling waters and she was lost in what she knew to be death for a moment before she was wrenched from it by the most excruciating pain. It was as if her hair was being torn from her scalp.
Her head above water now, she was clinging to something, an animal, hanging on to its legs while it in turn was borne down the river on something else.
She was still clinging to the animal when its progress was checked. She wasn’t aware of the branch overhead, or the hand that was clutching it, nor the painful slow struggle that Harry had in easing the dead sheep and the hen cree it was lying on around the branch and towards where the land sloped upwards.
He himself didn’t know from where he drew the strength to unclasp her hands from the sheep’s wool and drag himself and her up the slope, and not until they were well above the waterline did he let her go. And then, his hands dropping from her shoulders, he collapsed by her side …
When he awoke it was to the sound of voices calling over a distance and a light so strong he couldn’t look into it. He didn’t seem to have any feeling in his body, only a surprised feeling in his mind that he was alive— Or was he? He opened his eyes again and realised he was looking up into bright sunlight. So that was all right. But he couldn’t seem to move. What had happened? Where was he?
The voices came to him again, but nearer now, and he cast his glance downwards and now saw two men in a boat rowing towards the bank below him, and on the sight of them, memory flooded back, and as he gasped out, ‘Martha! Martha!’ he heaved himself onto his side and saw her lying like one dead.
He was on his knees bending over her when the men reached him, and one exclaimed, ‘Why, doctor! Aye, I’m glad to see you. They’d given you up, along with t’others. But who have we here?’
Now the men were on their knees, and the second man said, ‘Poor beggar! Who is she? Well, whoever she is she’s done for by the look of her.’
‘No! No!’ Harry sat back on his heels. ‘She’s…she’s still breathing.’ He looked about him now as he asked, ‘How far are we from the road?’
‘Oh, some way, doctor. There’s a vehicle, but the boat’s the best bet. Just leave it to us, we’ll get her down, ’cos you look as if you could do with a bit of help yourself.’
As the men settled Martha in the bottom of the boat and then helped Harry in, he asked, ‘Have you seen any sign of an oldish woman, and a small girl?’
The taller of the two men who was now pushing off from the bank with an oar, nodded quickly saying, ‘Aye, they picked two up like you say from near the bridge down below earlier on this mornin’. They were clinging together, like a mother and child sort of.’
‘Are they all right?’
‘Aw, I wouldn’t know that, doctor; there was a number of bodies all mixed up with cattle and such, but they looked dead to me. Still, you can never tell. The poor body there looks a gonner, but you say she’s still breathing. It’s a case of where there’s life there’s hope. But I should say there’s little hope for many who came down the river last night. I’ve seen a few floods in me time but never one like this— Guess it’ll alter a lot of lives, this flood.’
Yes, he too guessed it would alter a lot of lives, and none more than his own if she didn’t survive this ordeal.
He put his hand down and placed it on her sodden breast and prayed as he had never ever done before.
Three
She didn’t know how long she had lain here, whether it was hours, days or weeks, and at times she didn’t know whether she was alive or dead. She had been sure she had died and was resting in one of the many mansions of heaven when she had opened her eyes onto a window, through which she saw the sun shining onto the limb of a tree, and when nearer still her eyes had come to rest on a bowl of white and yellow roses, from which she imagined there came a perfume. But when a human voice said, ‘There now. There now. Off you go to sleep,’ and she had looked up into the face of Doctor Pippin, she knew she wasn’t dead, but just dreaming.
Following this, the dream took on a strange pattern. It always took her to the same room. Sometimes it was filled with light, sometimes it was lit by a lamp, but each time the dream occurred she was allowed to see a little more of the room, pieces of furniture, all shining. In one dream she actually saw someone polishing a chest of drawers. She had a round, merry face and a mass of auburn hair on which was perched a starched cap.
In another such dream she saw the doctor…Harry sitting by her side, and she imagined he put his lips to hers. That had been a very sweet dream. Another time Aunt Sophie and Peg were sitting by the side of the bed. She had cried during that dream. Oh, she had cried long and bitter. Then someone had given her a drink and the dream had faded, as all her dreams did.
There was one dream that disturbed her greatly. It was when the sun shone through the window and onto Roland’s stiff, white, angry face, in a sharp contrast to the expression on Mildred’s who was standing by his side, because her expression was bright with a hauteur that suited her yet made her seem like a stranger.
Roland was not looking at her, he was talking to someone behind her. He was saying, ‘It’s in a dreadful state; everything inside is ruined, but it hasn’t daunted my fiancée. As she said, perhaps after all it was better to make a clean sweep.’
‘Or a thorough wash-out.’
‘I can’t see anything amusing about the situation, doctor.’
‘No, no, perhaps you can’t, young man. Perhaps you can’t.’
She recognised Doctor Pippin’s voice and the laughter in it and she thought, That was very good, a wash-out. And now he was talking to Mildred. ‘I’ve heard that you are going up to the Hall as Lady Brockdean’s companion. Is that right, Mildred?’
‘Yes, quite right, doctor. Lady Brockdean came to the shop and made the suggestion herself. As Master William is to be married shortly and will then leave for France and Miss Rosalind is in Switzerland taking the cure, she said she would be rather lonely, and so she approached me.’
‘And you like the prospect?’
‘Oh yes, I feel I’m amply suited to such a situation and I mean to give her ladyship every satisfaction.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you will. The bookshop will miss you. I heard that you were very good as a saleswoman.’
‘Whatever I take on I aim to do thoroughly, doctor, but I never liked my position in the shop; in fact, I disapproved of it from the beginning. I made this quite plain to Martha Mary.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you did. Lots of things were made plain to Martha Mary, too many things in fact; that’s why she’s in the state she’s in now.’
‘You are blaming us?’ Roland’s voice was sharp, and the doctor’s was equally sharp as he replied, ‘Yes; if you want plain speaking, yes, I’m blaming you, I’m blaming all of you. She’s been nothing but an unpaid servant for years.’
‘You have no right…’
‘Don’t raise your voice in this room, sir, and for that matter don’t raise your voice in my house either. Now will you both please go along, for Martha isn’t really aware of your presence.’
That was a strange dream, very strange. Mildred. Fancy dreaming that Mildred was going to get her heart’s desire and live in the Hall in close proximity to Lady Brockdean. It was a fantastic dream.
Some time later there followed a sweet dream. She blinked in the strong light and looked up at Nancy with young Robbie Robson by her side. Nancy was full of concern for her but she was a different Nancy; perhaps it was the dress she was wearing; she had never seen her look so pretty, it was blue with three velvet bows at the neck. But Nancy didn’t speak, she just cried.
And now here was the recurring dream of looking through the window at the tree, then letting her eyes rest on the bowl of roses. But today they had changed colour for they were pink and red, and Doctor Pippin had come into this dream again. She couldn’t see him but she could hear his voice like a deep whisper saying, ‘It’s time now; you must let her come to gradually, and as I said last night, she’ll need care for a long time.’
‘I know that; I’m prepared for it.’
‘And have you considered my proposition?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Well, come on, what is it? You’re not usually so reticent.’
Martha found that she, too, was waiting for Harry’s answer and she hoped it came before the dream faded, as it was apt to do.
‘Well, it’s as I have already said. If I were to accept it your home would be a very crowded house. You’ve been used to your own way of life for so long; comings and goings would likely irritate you…and you’d have to take into account that when I, too, am irritated, I’ll be an unpleasant customer to live with.’
‘Yes, I know all that, and your last remark I certainly have taken into account, but after weighing it all up I decided I’d choose the irritation rather than live the rest of my years, few or many, with only the port bottle for company, or comfort. And from that you’ll gather that when I put the proposition to you it wasn’t really out of kindness but selfishness on my part…’
‘But if I took the property up the street we’d only be six doors away. Have you thought of that?’
‘Yes, but six doors are six doors and I want people round me.’ The last words were muttered, then they rose to a smothered laugh as he ended, ‘Even Aunt Sophie. And you know something? It’s my belief she’s not half as muddled in the head as she makes out at times. Anyway, she had the sense to survive and is in fitter shape than any of you and it’s thanks to her the little maid was saved too, for without her she wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
‘Don’t forget the duck.’
The softly joined laughter floated round Martha as the dream faded; then like an echo she heard Harry’s voice, saying, ‘Well, thank you. Thank you doctor, and for my part I’ll see you never regret it.’
Regret it…regret it…regret it…regret it.
‘Wake up. Wake up. That’s a girl. Come on.’
‘The water…Harry…the water.’
‘It’s all gone. It’s all over.’
‘Where am I?’
‘In my home, Doctor Pippin’s house.’ He paused a long moment before he said, ‘Our house.’
She stared back at him, then asked quietly, ‘Am I ill?’
‘You have been.’
‘How long?’
‘Oh, a fortnight or more.’
‘Aunt Sophie and Peg…I…I dreamed…’
He was bending down, his face close to hers now as he said softly, ‘You won’t believe this but Aunt Sophie’s alive and well.’ He raised his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘She’s upstairs in her room at this moment with Peg waiting on her.’
‘They’re alive?’
‘That’s what I said, they’re both alive.’
‘And…and we’re in Doctor Pippin’s home?’
He paused for a long moment before he said softly, ‘Our home from now on. Your home when you’re well enough to be mistress of it…Now! Now! you mustn’t. Don’t cry, my dear. Don’t cry. You must save all your energy and strength to get well because you know a doctor can’t have a wife who’s abed all day…Aw, please, please, don’t cry like that. I never want to see you cry again. If it lays with me you’ve done all the crying you’ll ever do, because from now on I’m steering your life, do you hear? Look at me, Martha.’ He put his hand gently under her chin. ‘Did you hear what I said? I’m steering your life, and that’s whether you like it or not.’
‘But…but we can’t all live here.’
‘We can. The doctor wants it that way, and particularly he wants you. And something more I’ll tell you now, I’ve got the strong feeling he’s planned that you should come here and be mistress of this house from the moment I came back after my first visit to The Habitation. He’s a wily old beggar is our Doctor Pippin. He always says he never does anything without putting himself first. It’s meant to be a joke, but since you’re here, and I’ve tied myself for life to him as a partner, I’ve got me doubts about the joke.’
‘Oh, doctor…’
‘Harry.’
‘Harry, what…what am I expected to say?’
‘Well, you could say you liked me a little bit…Well, don’t you just…just a little?’
She was looking straight up into his eyes as she murmured, ‘More than a little…’ There came a quirk to her lips as she ended, ‘Well, at least at times.’
He put his head back now and laughed, saying, ‘That’s my Miss Martha Mary Crawford. Oh, what a mouthful of a name that is. And I’m afraid it won’t sound any better when it’s Mrs Martha Mary Fuller.’
‘It’s an awful name…Martha Mary.’
‘No, it isn’t, my dear.’ His voice was gentle, his eyes held a soft depth. ‘I was only teasing. It’s a very special name, to be kept for special occasions. Ordinary times I’ll merely address you as Martha, but on special occasions when I’m flaming mad at you, then I’ll bawl, Martha Mary! Or as, like now, when I want to say to you, I love you, I’ll say Martha Mary, do you hear me, I love you, Martha Mary.’ His face moved down to hers.
‘Oh, Harry, Harry.’
‘Martha Mary. Martha Mary.’
The End
Miss Martha Mary Crawford Page 33