Читать книгу The Fifth Day of Christmas - Бетти Нилс - Страница 8

IT WAS COLD and dark when they left the next morning after the ample breakfast Madge had insisted upon them eating. And the road was like a skating rink. Julia clutched her hands tightly together under her cloak, sitting very stiff and upright beside the doctor, expecting every minute to go off the road or land upside down in a ditch.

‘Sit back,’ commanded her companion quietly, ‘nothing’s going to happen. You aren’t frightened?’

‘I’m terrified!’ declared Julia.

‘You must have realised that it would be like this?’

‘Yes, of course I did.’ She spoke crossly.

‘And yet you came with me?’

‘Well, I—I’m sure you’re a good driver,’ she answered lamely.

‘So you trust me as a driver as well. Good. Go on trusting me, Julia. Lean your head back and relax—I shan’t take any risks.’

She did as she was told and found to her surprise that after a little while she was actually enjoying the nightmare journey in an apprehensive sort of way, and when presently the doctor asked her if she was warm enough and then went on to talk about a hundred and one unimportant things, his quiet voice never altering its placid tones, flowing on through even the most hair-raising skids, she found herself answering him in a quite natural voice, and if her lovely face was a little paler than usual, there was no one to remark upon it.

Once on the main road the going was easier, although woefully slow in places so that when they reached Newcastle the doctor judged it wise to order sandwiches with their coffee in case it might prove difficult to stop later on.

The M1, when they got to it, was almost clear of snow, however, although lumps of it, frozen solid, added to the hazards of the already icy surface, but traffic was sparse at first and there was no fog so that they made good progress; so much so that south of Doncaster the doctor suggested that they should stop for lunch.

‘There’s a place I’ve been to before,’ he said, ‘a mile or two off the motorway. I think it’s called Bawtry.’

It was pleasant to get off the monotonous highway for just a little while, and the old coaching inn where he stopped looked inviting.

‘I’m sorry about my uniform,’ said Julia as they went inside. ‘I don’t look very glamorous.’

He gave her a sideways glance. ‘And what makes you think that I like a glamorous companion?’

She said in a prosaic voice, ‘I thought men did.’

He took her arm because the pavement was still slippery. ‘Not always,’ he said, half laughing, ‘in any case you’ve no need to worry; with your looks you could get away with anything you choose to put on.’

He said it so carelessly that she felt doubtful if he meant it as a compliment. She sighed and he said at once, ‘You’re tired, you need a meal.’

The food was good and the dining room pleasantly warm. They ate roast beef with all its traditional accompaniments washed down with burgundy, and while the doctor contented himself with the cheese board, Julia, who had a sweet tooth, applied herself to a chocolate soufflé. She ate with relish and as she put down her fork, remarked, ‘You know, food you haven’t cooked yourself always tastes different—besides, we had rather a monotonous diet at Drumlochie House, didn’t we?’

‘But excellently cooked. We were all glad there was no bread, yours was so delicious.’

‘I enjoyed baking it,’ said Julia simply. ‘What time shall we get to London?’

‘Almost a hundred and sixty miles—it’s hard to say. Three hours normally, but I should think we might double that allowing for slow going and hold-ups. Getting bored?’ he asked with a smile.

Julia shook her head, wishing very much to tell him that she was enjoying every minute of his company. Instead she remarked, ‘Not in the least. I like motoring, though I don’t do so much of it.’

‘Hasn’t James got a car?’

She pinkened. ‘Yes—a Morris, but he doesn’t believe that you should travel fast on the roads nor that you should use a car solely for pleasure.’

The doctor choked. ‘Good God—what kind of pleasure?’

‘Well, short trips to the sea, somewhere where we could do the shopping at the same time, and—and picnics…’

‘Sandwiches and a thermos flask?’ he wanted to know.

‘Yes. James considers eating out is a great waste of money.’ Her already pink cheeks went a little pinker. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, that sounds rude and ungrateful just after you’ve given me such a gorgeous lunch. I—I didn’t mean that at all; I love eating out and driving miles. I’d forgotten what fun it was.’ She sounded wistful.

‘I can see that I shall have to rescue you from James.’

‘How?’

‘By a method which will prove quite infallible.’ The doctor’s voice was light. Julia decided that he was joking. She asked equally lightly,

‘Do tell me.’

He shook his head, ‘No—not yet, but I promise it will work.’

They got up to go and Julia, still persisting, asked, ‘You mean if I take a job away from home for a long time he might forget me?’

‘Something like that.’

The short winter’s day was already dimming although it was barely two o’clock. Julia looked anxiously at the sky as they got into the car. ‘It’s not going to snow again, is it?’ she asked worriedly.

‘I shouldn’t think so. If it does and it gets too bad we’ll just have to stay the night somewhere, but I don’t think that will he necessary.’

She settled down as he started the car, drawing her cloak around her, thankful for the warmth and comfort. Presently she closed her eyes; they were back on the M1 once more and there was nothing to see, only the road running ahead of them and the traffic weaving in and out of the lanes in a never-ending, tiring pattern. The doctor was doing a steady fifty, overtaking whenever he had the opportunity; he didn’t seem disposed to talk. She opened her eyes and peeped at him once; his good-looking profile looked stern and thoughtful. Immersed in dreams of Miss Marcia Jason, thought Julia pettishly, and closed her eyes again, sternly dismissing her own dreams. She opened them a few moments later, aware of something wrong, although the man beside her had made no sound. They were on the point of passing an articulated lorry and as she looked behind her the doctor accelerated to a sudden breathtaking speed, sliding ahead of it with seconds to spare as a car, roaring down the motorway, passed them within inches. Julia caught a glimpse of its occupants laughing and waving. ‘That was a bit near,’ she said in a voice which quavered just a little. ‘I’m glad you’re a good driver.’

The doctor sounded grim. ‘Yes, so am I—they’re the sort who cause a pile-up. He passed us at over a hundred and twenty.’

‘What were we doing when you overtook?’ Julia wanted to know.

He grinned. ‘Never you mind,’ he replied, ‘but it was either that or being pushed into the next world…’ He broke off and said something harsh and sudden in his own language, and Julia watched with silent horror as the car, careering madly half a mile ahead of them, tried to pass a huge transport which was on the point of crossing into the fast lane, and even as she watched she was aware that the doctor had slowed and was edging back on to the slow lane and on to the hard shoulder of the road, to stop close to the appalling chaos.

The transport driver, in a last-minute attempt to avert disaster, had slewed to his left, but the oncoming car had been too fast for him. It was wedged, no longer recognisable as a car, under the huge back wheels, its recent occupants lying untidily around it. Even as they were looking, two more cars crashed into it.